#steve rogers fanfiction
Dark!Steve Rogers x College!Reader
Summary: Who knew a broken washing machine would lead to finding out you’ve been stalked
Warning: dub-con, dry humping, sexual tension, dark steve, mentions of stalking, breath play
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” You groan, kicking your foot against the washing machine for extra measure. The metal sends a throbbing pain through your big toe, your face contorting in pain. You try another method of jostling the machine to life, shaking it.
It doesn’t work.
You have to go to work early in the morning, you need to wash your uniform tonight. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, you don’t want to know what she’ll do if you don’t wear your uniform. Your apartment is infamous for things falling apartment, you should be used to this by now.
“Clem, can you help me with the washing machine?” You call out. Normally, she calls the maintenance workers, uses her amazing charm, and gets them to fix the machines without charge. That’s something you’ve never been able to understand about her. Clementine can get whatever she wants, whenever she wants. You’ve never had that privilege, especially not with boys.
Not that you want that privilege, but it would be nice to have right about now.
“Can’t, I’m getting ready,” Clementine calls out, the hum of her hairdryer starting up. Great, you think. She must be going on a date. Which means you’ll be all alone tonight, bored out of your mind.
You sigh, almost ready to accept defeat, when Clem steps out of the bathroom. “Why don’t you just take your stuff upstairs? Bucky won’t care if you use his washing machine.”
Clem and Bucky had a fling months ago, but it was serious enough for you to meet him. He hung out with both of you several times, so it wouldn’t be that awkward if you went up there. Right now, it seems like your only option. You gather up your laundry basket, pushing the hair out of your face.
“Can you text him and let him know I’m coming over?” You ask, walking over to the door. Clem pulls out her phone, stopping immediately. “I just remembered he won’t be home, but that’s alright. You know he never locks the door,”
You groan, hating the thought of just barging into someone’s apartment. But you know Bucky doesn’t have a roommate, so what’s the worst thing that can happen? You quickly say your goodbye to Clem, wishing her luck on her date, and head up to Bucky’s apartment. Just as she said, the door is unlocked.
You make a bee line for the washing machine, humming to yourself. You love Clem, but it’s peaceful being by yourself. You’ve never been the roommate type, preferring to live by yourself and do your own thing. Once you get your laundry in, you take it upon yourself to prance around the apartment, curious to see how the infamous Bucky Barnes lives.
You step into his room, examining the walls and the counters. It’s nothing like you thought it’d be… It’s clean. Bucky has surprisingly good taste when it comes to decorating. You walk over to the window, your eyes trained on the view from the apartment.
He has such a better view of the city than you do.
In your amazement, you step on something warm and wet, the substance mushing between your bare feet. You gag, fuming. You take back everything you said about Bucky being clean. You hate Bucky right now.
You can’t even look down, you almost don’t want to know what you stepped on. You run, squealing, to the nearest bathroom. “Gross. Boys are disgusting,” You mumble, feeling the substance tracking through the apartment. You immediately strip out of your clothes, throwing them in the hallway. You feel disgusting, there’s no telling what you just stepped in.
You turn the water on the hottest setting, the warmth immediately cleansing you. You still can’t bring yourself to look down at your foot, worried you’ll puke in the shower. You scrub yourself clean with a random body wash, doing a shit job of keeping your hair from getting wet. Once you feel like you’re clean, you hop out of the shower, grabbing a nearby towel to dry off with.
You dry yourself off, bending down to pick up your clothes. When you grab them, you realize that they’re soaking wet. You groan and drop them back on the floor. Could this day get any worse?
You quickly wrap the towel around you, making your way to Bucky’s room again. You desperately search through his closet for a t-shirt, knowing you can always give it back to him once your laundry is done. You drop your towel on his floor, your (h/c) curls dropping down your back. You slip his big shirt over your head, immediately inhaling the scent. There’s something about being in a big t shirt that makes you feel so safe and comfortable.
“Buck, is that you?” You hear a voice call out. Your eyes widen, your hands grabbing at the bottom of the shirt, pulling it down over the tops of your thighs. “Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, searching for somewhere to hide. Who could this be? You thought nobody would be home!
You stay silent as your eyes frantically move around the room. “You’re finally doing your own laundry?” The voice asks, adding a chuckle to the end of the sentence. You hear the footsteps getting closer, your body freezing in its spot. The first thing you see is a blond haired boy dressed in a white tank and grey sweats rounding the corner. He raises an eyebrow as soon as he sees you, his cheeks heating up.
“Oh, um, sorry. I didn’t realize Bucky had someone over,” The boy says, his eyes drifting down to your exposed thighs. Your heart stops as your hands fumble to pull your shirt over your legs, your cheeks heating up.
“Oh, he doesn’t, I uh… He doesn’t know I’m here,” You say, trying your best to redeem yourself. Who is this guy, and why is he in Bucky’s apartment? Then again, he could say the same thing about you. You’ve been friends with Buck for a while— you’ve never even heard of this guy.
Steve furrows his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side. “Should I be concerned?” He quips, the corner of his lips turning up. You hadn’t realized how illegal the situation seemed until just now. Here you are, in someone else’s apartment, admitting the owner has no idea you’re here.
You frustratedly sigh, throwing your head back. All you wanted was to have a relaxing night alone, now, you could be getting arrested for breaking and entering. “Bucky is a friend of mine, I came over to use his washing machine. I didn’t think anyone would be here,” You explain.
With the explanation, Steve’s body relaxes, smirking at your awkwardness.
“I'm Steve, I'm one of Bucky's good friends," Steve explains, moving forward to shake your hand. You awkwardly let go of the bottom of your shirt, extending your hand out to his. Steve's hand radiates warmth, sending a shot of warmth throughout your whole body.
“Uh, I’m y/n,” You say, not sure where your relationship with Bucky falls. You can’t just flat out say you suspect Bucky is fucking your roommate.
Steve smiles, looking over his shoulder. “Leave it to Buck to not even be here when I visit from Boston,” He jokes, the smile still on his face.
You awkwardly laugh, wishing you were anywhere but here. Steve is an attractive guy, which makes it even more worse! You've never been great with guys, which is why you're home alone while Clem is on a date. You can't help but notice his broad shoulders threatening to break through his incredibly tight shirt, the way you can tell he's not shaved his face in a few days.
"I should go," You say, moving to push past Steve. Steve frowns, reaching forward and grabbing the end of your shirt. The action spins you around, lifting the shirt slightly above the waistband of your panties.
"Don't be silly... Your laundry isn't even done," He says, a smirk on his pink lips. You gulp, glancing over your shoulder, trying your best to avoid eye contact.
"I can come back in the morning and get it, it's not a problem," You mutter, barely even audible. You don't trust yourself around this stranger. You can already feel your wetness pooling in your panties, simply by the dominance he has asserted over you. This isn't like you, you don't get turned on by strangers. You just need to go home, have a quick session with your vibrator, and go to bed.
Steve steps closer to you, tightening his grip on your shirt. "Come on, I need somebody to keep me company until Buck comes back," He suggests, his voice dropping an octave. You finally look into his eyes, feeling your self control slowly slipping away.
"I'm not very interesting... I don't know how I'd keep you company,"
Steve smirks again, only releasing his hold on your shirt to gently grip your chin. "I've got a couple of ideas," He mumbles, eyeing your lips. You can feel your legs weakening as you clench your thighs together, your tummy turning. There's something about this guy that you just can't shake-- a feeling that something isn't quite right.
"I need to leave," You say, your voice firm. Despite your increasing desire, you don't trust him. You can't give in.
Steve uses the hand on your chin to keep you steady as he slips his other hand to the back of your shirt, slipping it down to your butt, giving it a gentle squeeze. "So you're telling me you don't want me to kiss you right now?" He asks.
His face is centimeters away from yours, his eyes staring into yours. You've never felt such electricity between you and another person. Your breathing picks up, your hands trembling. "Don't you dare," You whisper, barely recognizing your own voice. Steve raises his eyebrow, taking the statement as a challenge.
Giving you no time to protest, Steve's lips crash against yours, his warm tongue instantly invading your mouth. Your body melts into his as his arms wrap around your waist, your hands resting on his chest. You whimper against his lips, being completely taken aback by this kiss. You'd been kissed before, sure, but never like this.
Steve places a hand on your jaw, pulling you impossibly closer to him. The simple movement brings you back to reality, causing you to pull away. Steve furrows his eyebrows, his eyes searching for an explanation as to why you had pulled away. You exhale shakily, your lips swollen from the assault. "Why are you doing this?"
Steve chuckles under his breath, cocking his head to the side. "Doing what?"
"Kissing me... You don't even know who I am," You say, feeling his hands roaming your body. He almost distracts you from your own question when his hand slips under the waistband of your underwear, giving the flesh a harsh squeeze.
"I know more about you than you think I do," Steve murmurs, leaning forward to kiss you once more. Steve towers over you, reaching down far enough to slip his fingers between your folds, gathering your slick on his fingers. The bold action startles you, your breath hitching in your throat.
You hadn't expected him to move so fast, but you can't deny that you like it. You whimper against his lips, feeling helpless against his actions. You find yourself frozen in your spot, trying your best to hold back your moans. Steve dips a finger in your waiting hole, teasing you with the tip.
You pull away once again, your cheeks burning red. "Please," You whisper, watching Steve smirk down at you. "Touch me,"
Steve doesn't waste any time, pulling his hand out of your panties and lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, working to pull his white tank over his head. As soon as you get a glimpse of his broad shoulders, any doubt about whether or not you want to go through with this goes out the window.
Your hands explore his shoulders as he kisses your neck, kneading and smacking your ass. "Love your body," He murmurs, sucking a hickey on the side of your neck. You feel him stumble against the couch, earning a giggle out of you. "Wanted you for so long,"
You squeal as he plops you down on the couch, hovering over you. His blue eyes have gotten darker, his lips pinker. "Tell me you want me," Steve demands, his hands wandering over your body. You arch your back, pouting your bottom lip out.
"I want you," You repeat, wrapping your legs around his waist. Steve grinds against your center, a devious smile on his lips. "Beg for me," He demands, his cock hardening against you. You can feel your cunt sticking against your panties, soaking through the thin fabric. You hate begging, but you'd do anything this man told you to.
"Stevie,” You whine, the nickname rolling naturally off your tongue. “Please fuck me, I wanna feel you, need to have you,” You mumble, already cockdrunk. You don’t even know if you’re making any sense, but it feels like the right thing to say.
Steve chuckles, his hand sliding up your body, giving you an extra hard thrust, making you wish there were no clothes between you. He wraps his strong hand around your neck, squeezing ever so gently. “I knew I’d have you begging for me, knew you’d be so good for me,” He groans, his fingers tightening around your neck.
You try to inhale, only to find that he’s squeezing your throat a little too hard. Not enough to restrict your breathing entirely, but hard enough to make you struggle for air. “S-Steve,” You struggle, your hands on his wrist. You try your best to wriggle out of his grasp, but the action only seems to turn him on more.
Steve smiles darkly, staring into your eyes. It’s only now that you realize you’ve seen those eyes before. You don’t know where, you don’t know when, but you recognize those eyes.
Just when you think you can’t take any more, Steve lets go, leaving you gasping for air. You quickly scurry off of the couch, your eyes wide. “Steve, what the fu—“
Before you can finish your sentence, you hear the click of a doorknob, making you jerk your head to the apartment door. You see Bucky and Clem standing there, attached at the hip. The messy hair and smeared makeup makes it clear why they came back to the apartment. You have almost no time to process to fact that they were out together.
Bucky furrows his eyebrows, cocking his head. “Steve, what are you doing here?”
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we deserved better ⤿ one
THE MIDDLE OF A START
pairings: stucky x reader, steve x reader x bucky
chapter warning: n/a
a/n: wow okay i wasn’t expecting that many people to like the prologue! but thank you all! if you want to be tagged please let me know and i will add you to the list! happy reading!
prologue, chapter one, chapter two
January of 1943, New York, New York. Quite a place to be in the 40’s. Actually, New York was quite the place to be anytime. With a huff you trudge through the snow, cradling a shopping bag close to your chest as you made your way through, passing by people who were captivated by the sights of the city. But you weren’t captivated by it at all, why would you be? You grew up here, it was all you knew. To others it’s a wonder, big tall buildings and more being built, construction was kinda everywhere. New people every day, some with the hopes of being able to make it on broadway, wanting to see the new, modern times. It was quite a place, New York.
Soon your little house came into view, causing you to walk faster. The thought of being inside a somewhat warm place sounded heavenly right now, your arms were starting to ache also. With a huff you make your way up the steps, watching the ground as you did so- the steps were a little lopsided and no matter how many times you go up and down then you still have that itching anxiety that you will trip up or down them, so you like to watch and make sure you wont do so. Once atop the last step you shift the bag around to start digging your hand into your pocket, brows furrowing in as you search for the pesky key. Right as your hand closes around it the door opens, standing in his 5’4” glory was none other than Steve Rogers, your boyfriend. You, Steve and Bucky all lived together. You and your two boyfriends.. yes, You Steve and Bucky were all dating one another. No one knew about you three, the only one who did was Sarah, rest her soul.
A smile was present on the scrawny male as he stared at you happily, opening the door wider as you made your way past him and into the warm house hold. “You know you can just knock on the door?” Steve calls to you as he shuts the door and locks it, having to use some force to shut the old door. You only had to take a few steps to get into the small kitchen, everything about the house was small, but it was cozy and did its job. “I know, sometimes I just don’t feel like knocking on my own door.” You replied with a small laugh, starting to unload the small amount of groceries you bought. You three didn’t have a lot of money, but you all made do.
“Is Bucky still asleep?” You mumbled out to Steve in question as you started to put the things away, “No.” You heard right behind you, and it wasn’t Steve he replied to you, you turn around and smack Bucky with the loaf of bread. “James! Don’t scare me like that.”
You reprimanded him, Steve laughing in the back as he moves to sit on the barstool. “C’mon doll! Lighten up, I didn’t mean to spook you that hard.” He replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Bucky was much taller than you, Steve was also a few inches taller than you and he liked to poke fun at you about that. But you let Steve do that, it made him feel better about himself.
With a huff you squint your eyes at Bucky before looking behind him at Steve. “You couldn’t have warned me that he was right behind me? You two are such menaces, I don’t know how I manage to put up with you both.” You snark playfully, a twinkle in your eye as you place your hands on your hips after you placed the bread onto the counter.
“Because you love us?” Steve questions, resting his elbow onto the counter and his chin in his hand as he leans on it, an innocent smile on his face. Bucky soon nods his head, making his way to stand behind Steve as he was sat, placing his hands on the other males shoulders and resting his chin on his head. “Yeah, because you love us.” He said, pressing a kiss to the side of Steve’s cheek, which caused the skinny blonde to blush. “Lucky for you both, I do love you both dearly.” You replied with a fake, sad sigh. Moving to put the small bundle of things away. “Oh,” Bucky says from behind you, unwrapping himself from Steve as he picked something up off the counter. “This came in the mail today, addressed to you- seemed important.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, handing the white envelope to you. With furrowed brows you gently took it from his hands, turning it over and seeing your name written neatly along with ‘important’ and ‘confidential’ in red, bold letters. Nervously you looked between Steve and Bucky before back at the letter and opening it up. You leaned your back against the counter as you read through the letter, heart dropping into your stomach as you had to reread it a few times. All color drained from your face, hands starting to shake.
Steve and Bucky quickly noticed your change, bolting up and quickly moving towards you. Steve stood to your side as Bucky stood in front of you. “Doll?” Bucky broke the silence, one hand going to gentle cradle your shaking wrist. “I have been recruited to be an army nurse.” You whispered out, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly.
You never wanted to be a nurse, everyone said you would be a great nurse. You were loving and kind and so helpful, but its not what you wanted to be. Most women were dropping everything right now to go and be an army nurse to help the soldiers as much as they could.
But you just wanted to be a teacher, you wanted to help children learn new things in life. Help bring up the new generation of life. Bucky and Steve were silent next to you. You placed the letter onto the counter.
America had joined the second world war, and now so had you.
taglist: @youlightmeupfinn @animegirlgeeky @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @snakesonastarship
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Lipstick stains and proposals
Steve rogers X fem! reader
Summary: Steve was planning to propose to you, but emergency lockdown protocols meant staying at home for another week to say the least and he didn't want to wait and instead he would propose to you in your favourite room
Warnings: just fluff don’t worry lol, also like domestic fluff to the fullest so get ready!
main taglist | main masterlist | covid drabbles masterlist
Reblogs appreciated as always!
"Steve are you ready to go?" you called out from your room
"Doll i think we'll need to cancel our plans today" Steve said coming into your room standing behind you
"What?! What happened?" you questioned, standing up from the dresser at where you were getting ready, you turned towards Steve, in a deep blue suit that brought out his beautiful blue eyes
"They had to put up an emergency lockdown because cases raised again today" he sighed sadly and pulled you by your waist towards him, and nuzzled his face into your neck
"Oh my God, not again?!" you said feeling your mood dampen
"I'm sorry honey" he said pulling you closer and kissing your forehead softly
"Its not your fault Stevie" you said bringing your hand caressing his cheekbones softly and kissing him on he lips gently
he kissed back immediately without hesitation, and pulled you towards him even more by your waist
after what seemed like hours both of you pulled back from the kiss, and you noticed that your lipstick had transferred on his lips and had overlined his lips a little
you let out a laugh seeing your lipstick on his lips and Steve looked at you confused
"Baby my lipstick is on your lips, and it may have overlined your lips a little" you chuckled
he looked at you and turned towards the dresser mirror to see his now crimson lips, he let out a little laugh
Suddenly he had an idea, and he pulled you along with him towards your art room both of you seemed to adore, you guys spent most of your time in that room during the lockdown, whether it was painting together, or painting each other or just watching the other paint
The room held too much meaning to the both of you so Steve wanted to propose to you there if he couldn't propose in central park where you had your first date
you were confused, but he got down on his knee and you knew what was coming, you gasped looking at Steve and then at the tiny velvet box in his hand
"Honey, I have loved you since what seems like forever, will you marry me?"
"Yes! yes a hundred times yes! I love you so much darling"
"I love you too doll" Steve said pulling you in for a kiss
COVID drabbles taglist: @pansyspet @acciorxses @cynical-frog @dont-mess-with-nat
General taglist: @marauders-lupin, @brutalrebelkid, @angel4you, @one-happy-silent-geek-girl, @dogsandcatsandmiscellaneousstuff, @notnowsamosa, @couldibeanymorechaotic, @fatpotatosaysmoo, @dont-mess-with-nat, @anotherteenageroninternet @cynical-frog @pansyspet @marvelandnothingelse
Marvel taglist: @queen-asteria04, @thighs-of-betrayal-blog, @toomanynotifications, @the-soul-in-the-sixth-sense @willothewhisper
Steve Rogers taglist: @knopewyattworld @the-soul-in-the-sixth-sense, @fangirllife98
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Love Bites: Chapter 1
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader/You (no use of Y/N)
Rating: Explicit for sex, 18+ only please and thank you
Warnings: Fluff. It’s fluff. Just fluff. Halloween fluff.
Chapter Word Count: 3.2K
Summary: Your brain supplied the helpful memory of the charity lottery from a few weeks ago. It had been in the papers, all of the members of the Avengers offering themselves up to go trick-or-treating with the lucky winners. The amount of money raised for the children’s hospital had been staggering.
Which would explain why Steve Rogers himself, fully decked out as Captain America, was on your doorstep.
Chapter 1: Trick or Treat
You surveyed yourself in the mirror. While your outfit was the stereotype to end all stereotypes, you’d done yourself proud.
Black shoes with thick high heels. Black fishnet thigh-high stockings. A short, frilly skirt, with a black crinoline peeking out from below the hem. A black and purple bodice that pressed your breasts together, creating cleavage that practically reached your toes.
Your hair was perfectly arranged. Your lips, bright red. Your eyes, shadowed and sultry, complete with lush fake lashes. A black choker collar adorned your neck, and silver earrings in the shape of spiderwebs dangled from your lobes.
The piece de resistance sat on your dresser. With a satisfied nod, you picked up your pointed hat and placed it atop your head, securing it with a few pins.
Sexy witch. Good to go.
Your neighborhood always went all out for Halloween. The quiet residential streets all had sidewalks and were well-lit, and the houses were full of families with young children. You’d lived there for a few years now, and had watched in amusement as the holiday decorations had grown increasingly more elaborate.
You’d joined in the fun, in your more reserved style. The laser projections and the animatronic ghosts and skeletons weren’t for you, but your cozy little townhouse had electric candles in each window, and your front bushes had been adorned with orange lights. A jack-o-lantern glared from your porch, and you’d placed more electric candles in orange and black paper bags on the edges of your steps.
The sun hadn’t even set yet as you headed downstairs to make sure everything was ready, but the fun always started early. Your broom - of course, an absolutely necessary prop - sat by the door. On your porch, a large folding table had been arranged, loaded with trays of full-sized candy bars. You had a bowl of bright red apples as well, and one of small boxes of raisins. Finally, because you knew that there were a few children in the neighborhood that had food allergies, there was a bowl of glow sticks and glitter pens and puffy stickers.
That was for the kids.
You cast a glance over to the bar in your dining room. Spiked hot cider in a thermal urn; another urn full of coffee, and ready-to-go bags of popcorn and trail mix for hungry, sugar-weary adults.
Your cat looked at you inquisitively from underneath the dining room table, blinking her wide green eyes and swishing her fluffy black tail. She was intrigued by the commotion, as she was every year, but at the first sound of…
As predicted, Vixen took off, a solid black streak darting up the stairs for the safety of your bedroom. You would find her much later, snoozing on your pillow, safe from the threat of hyper children.
You smiled. You could already hear the excited shouts even through your front door, and you grabbed your broom.
Two hours later, you sat down on the stairs, giving yourself a welcome few seconds off your feet. It had been a busy night even for Halloween, and you attributed it to the perfect weather outside. A hint of chill in the air; a faint breeze blowing, enough to rustle the dried leaves that were still clinging to the trees. But not cold, not cool enough to have to wear coats and cover up costumes.
And it was a full moon tonight: the icing on the cake.
You sipped your cup of cider and nibbled a handful of trail mix, enjoying the brief break. From the experience of years past, you knew it wasn’t going to last.
Yep. Right on schedule.
There was no noise coming through your door; it must be a small group of children waiting. Once again, you grabbed your broom, preparing to cackle in proper witchy fashion as you opened the door.
The sound died in your throat.
Faintly, you heard the “Trick or treat!” that the little astronaut on your porch called out as she held up her plastic pumpkin bucket. Your eyes, however, were riveted on her escort, and you gripped your broom tightly for support.
Your brain supplied the helpful memory of the charity lottery from a few weeks ago. It had been in the papers, all of the members of the Avengers offering themselves up to go trick-or-treating with the lucky winners. The amount of money raised for the children’s hospital had been staggering.
Which would explain why Steve Rogers himself, fully decked out as Captain America, was on your doorstep. Right down to the shield on his back.
Television and photos didn’t do him justice. He wasn’t wearing his helmet, and the blue eyes were even more crystalline. The blond hair glowed in the lights from your porch. The jaw was so sharp it could have cut glass. And the build...ohhhh, the build. The suit had to have been designed to highlight every individual muscle, because that was the only explanation for how good it looked.
All of that had paraded across your mind in the space of a second.
The little astronaut yelled “HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!” at you, breaking you out of your thoughts. For the first time, you noticed the even-smaller alien hiding timidly behind the astronaut. The kids must live in your neighborhood.
You yanked your brain back to something resembling functioning, cleared your throat, and cackled again. “Hellloooo, my pretties! Happy Halloween!”
The astronaut started jumping up and down excitedly, almost knocking over the alien behind her. “You’re a witch! You’re a witch!”
“Be careful…” you admonished, the assumption of your role helping you to focus on the kids and not the blond Avenger standing on your porch. “If you’re nasty, mean little children...I’ll turn you into toads!!!”
Shrieks, from the children, and it made you grin. Witchily, of course.
A low rumble of laughter from off to the side. A quick flash of white teeth. You were mildly surprised to discover that you’d remained vertical when slammed with that smile.
The astronaut and the alien were reaching for the tray of candy bars when another group of kids arrived, this one much larger and shepherded by a few teenagers that were desperately trying to appear aloof and way too cool for this. You watched, amused, as Steve was elbowed out of the way by a group of Ghostbusters, a doctor, a dinosaur, and all five of the Power Rangers.
The kids swarmed over your offerings, giggling and arguing with each other about their selections, and then promptly moved off to the other side of your porch. Heated negotiations appeared to be taking place as they peered into each others’ bags and buckets, treats beginning to exchange hands.
You heard a tiny sigh from your right, and looked over. Bright blue eyes met yours, muscled shoulders drooping just the tiniest bit.
“Long night?” you murmured, although with the noise that was coming from the other side of the porch, you weren’t exactly worried about being overheard.
Steve shook his head at you. “It’s insane,” he murmured. “It’s been a long time since I hung out with kids...I forgot how much energy they have.”
You sympathized. You were a little tired, and you hadn’t been running around keeping track of any kids; you’d gotten to stay inside.
“You want a drink?” You jerked your head towards the inside of your house. “I’ve got some stuff for adults inside.”
“Uh…” He glanced over at the group of children, plainly tempted.
“Come on. They’re going to be haggling for at least another five minutes. That’s long enough to at least have a quick cup of cider. You look like you need it.”
He chuckled. “I really do. All right. Hey, Maria?” he called. The astronaut looked up briefly. “I’ll be just inside, OK? Don’t go anywhere without me.”
The astronaut - Maria, apparently, and you guessed it was Maria Luna from a few houses down, although it was impossible to tell for sure with the helmet - nodded, and turned back to her negotiations for a bag of M&Ms that looked almost as big as she was.
You, for your part, led Steve inside your house, feeling like you wanted to pinch yourself. It had been a busy night, but you still had plenty of food, and you gestured at your dining room table. “Help yourself. I always try to have things that are grab-and-go. Do you want cider or coffee? The cider’s got rum in it...”
“Cider sounds great, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
You filled an insulated cup for him as he plucked a sack of trail mix from the tray, and you chuckled as he opened it and poured half the little bag into his mouth. His eyes closed briefly as he chewed.
“Thanks so much,” he mumbled, around his mouthful of cashews and peanuts and raisins. “I really needed this.”
You chuckled again as you handed him the cup. “How long have you been going?”
He looked down at his wrist, at the watch that looked like it was complex enough to calculate quantum physics and do your laundry. “Couple hours, I think. I’m supposed to do the whole neighborhood with them. Or as long as they want to go.”
You leaned against your bar cabinet as he drank deeply from the cup of cider. “It’s amazing that you all are doing this. What a great idea.”
He shrugged with a smile. “It was all Bruce. He’s got connections at the hospital...somehow he sweet-talked the rest of us into it. But hey - it’s one night for me and a ton of money for the kids. It’s worth it.”
“That’s Maria Luna and her little brother, right?”
“Yeah.” Steve grinned, and it did interesting things to your insides as that smile flashed again. “They’re pretty cute. He keeps staring at me when he doesn’t think I’ll notice.”
You could understand the kid’s motivation. Steve drew the eye; even aside from his handsome looks, there was something about him decked out in his full suit that pulled attention. An aura of command and being in charge. Which, to be honest, was also doing interesting things to your insides.
You offered him a smile. “It’s a fun neighborhood for Halloween. I think you probably lucked out. Most of the houses do stuff for the adults along with the children.”
“Yeah, I’ve run into some of it. It’s been hard to stop though, the kids want to just keep going to the next house. And the next one. And the next one. And the…”
He trailed off, but you were laughing, forgetting for a minute that Captain America was standing in your dining room making small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, things should start shutting down in an hour or so. The adults all want to get to the big party. You want some more cider?”
Steve nodded, even as he raised an eyebrow. “Big party?”
“Yeah. Have you been to Exeter Lane yet? It’s a couple streets farther up.”
“Not yet. We started at the south end and we’ve been working our way north.”
“Well, once you get up there, the houses get really big. You think we’ve got the good stuff down here, it’s nothing compared to what they hand out. And the Musas - they have the house with the giant fountain out front, you’ll know it when you see it - they do a big adults-only party every year after trick-or-treating is done.”
Steve took another sip of cider. “Sounds like a really good time.”
“It is. They get a band, and they turn half of the house into a haunted mansion. It goes until like four in the morning. The teenagers in the neighborhood make bank babysitting because no one wants to miss it.”
“Wow.” Steve chuckled. “Seems like you’re going to have a pretty fun night. I’m probably going to fall into bed and try not to look at sugar for the next week.”
You laughed again. And with what came out of your mouth next, you must have made your cider a lot stronger than you’d originally thought.
“Well, if you aren’t busy once you’re done...do you want to come?”
Steve’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head, and you could relate. Your surprise at your own words must have shown on your face, because he hastily started talking at the same time you did.
“I wasn’t trying to…”
“I mean, if you aren’t…”
You stopped, and grinned at him sheepishly. He was doing the same right back at you.
“I wasn’t fishing for an invite,” he said quietly. “I really just thought it sounded fun. That’s all.”
“I can bring a plus one,” you answered. “And it is fun. You...you should come. If you aren’t too tired.”
The air in the room had changed, and it had gotten a little...thicker, somehow. There was a new tension that had appeared, as Steve appeared to grasp that you’d been serious with the invitation.
You’d been distracted by the appearance of him on your doorstep until now. But now...for the first time since he’d walked into your house, you became aware of what you were wearing. The fishnet thigh-highs. The tiny little skirt. The red, red lips. Your cleavage, on full display.
And you noticed that Steve was noticing, too. His eyes lingered a little bit as neither of you said anything, smiling shyly at one another, him still holding his cup of cider.
There was a shriek from outside, arrowing into the dining room through the open front door. “MISTER CAPTAIN SIR!!!!”
Steve laughed, and coughed, and the tension in the room dissipated. His smile was still shy, but it had changed a little bit, becoming a little bit more sure.
“Duty calls,” he said softly. “But...what time should I be back for the party?”
Omigod. Omigod. Omigod. Omigodomigodomigod.
“Um…” You looked over his shoulder at your dining room clock. Yes, you were still capable of telling time, even though most of your brain cells had suddenly gone on strike when confronted with the knowledge that Steve fucking Rogers was now your Halloween date. “Nine or so? It starts at eight. But we can go whenever you’re done.”
He nodded. “I...um...I’d kind of like to find something else to wear. If you don’t mind.”
As tempting as the idea was to show up with Captain America, your brain did deliriously observe that for him, it wasn’t exactly a costume. Which didn’t matter. At all. But there was the recognizability factor...
“Yeah…” You giggled. “You’d probably draw a lot of attention if you went like this. Wear whatever you want.”
“Are you wearing that?”
You nodded. “I was planning to.”
“Okay then.” He smiled. “I’ve got an idea...I think I can throw something together that works. I’ll pick you up here around nine. Can I get your number in case I’m running late? Or early?”
“MISTER CAPTAIN SIR!!!”
In a daze, you exchanged numbers before Steve quickly headed out the door. You mumbled a “see you later” as he left, staring at your phone in your hand like you were expecting it to spontaneously combust. The screen still cheerfully informed you that Steve Rogers had been added to your contacts.
New shrieks echoed from outside, and they propelled you into action. You struck your pose in the doorway, broom in hand, cackling out your greetings at the new group of kids even as the inside of your head screamed at you.
You’d checked your phone frantically in between each group of children, until finally resorting to hiding it in the couch cushions. You’d still hear the tone from incoming texts, but it kept you from constantly looking at it.
Not that you’d had a ton of time. The busy night had continued; the table on your porch looked like a category five hurricane had passed by. You’d surprisingly gone through nearly everything, including the fruit and the non-food toys.
It had been quiet for about the last fifteen minutes, and you were starting to tidy up, setting the empty trays and bowls in your kitchen to wash later. Once that was finished, you hurried upstairs to touch up your makeup, although your lipstick was as immaculate as when the evening had started.
Part of you was convinced that what had happened earlier had been a hallucination. You made a deal with yourself that if he didn’t show up, you were leaving for the party at nine-fifteen sharp and you were going to have a fantastic time, no matter what.
But you’d checked your phone about six times. That new contact Steve Rogers stared up at you, very real indeed.
Your throat closed up. You stopped breathing. Your stomach began an Olympic gymnastics floor routine and was clearly going for gold.
Somehow, you made it down the stairs and opened the door. Your mouth fell open.
The first thing you registered was the least interesting sight in front of you. A sleek black Ferrari was parked at the curb, engine idling.
The second thing you registered was the vampire standing on the porch. You couldn’t help the tiny sigh that escaped your mouth.
You wondered exactly what wardrobe options were available to the Avengers that Steve had been able to ‘throw’ this together. You started at his feet and worked your way up, just appreciating.
Shiny patent leather black dress shoes. Black dress trousers, clearly a luxury fabric that draped in the right places and hugged in the rest, a lover’s embrace for his muscular legs. A black and crimson vest over a charcoal grey shirt, and instead of the classic lace jabot, a crimson silk ascot. A black cape, lined in more crimson silk, swirled down from his shoulders.
He’d whitened his face and lined and shadowed his eyes, and it changed his appearance enough where it wasn’t absolutely clear that it was Steve Rogers. A good likeness, surely. But perhaps not the real thing.
He smiled at you. Fangs appeared - good ones, not the cheap plastic kind. You gulped.
“How do I look?”
You started laughing at the cheesy accent he’d tried for, and he grinned, the fangs appearing again.
“You look great.” You smiled. “Did you just have all of that lying around?”
“Well…” He winked at you, and your insides went all gooey. “Sometimes our missions can get pretty interesting. Are you ready to go?”
You took a quick inventory. The night had cooled, but not enough to warrant a coat, and you knew that the party was going to be plenty warm. You reached over and grabbed your purse and your broom, proud that your hand only shook a little bit. This is not happening. This is not happening.
Steve smiled once more, and held out his hand, encased in a black silk glove. He put the accent on again, although you didn’t laugh this time, more entranced as his voice dropped to a low, sultry purr.
“Then, my dear, your chariot awaits.”
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learn to love
chapter 11 - waiting game
summary: steve and y/n don’t get along. now, they have to.
pairings: au!steve rogers x fem!reader
warnings: alcohol, mentions of depressive feelings/episodes, disordered eating habits, weight loss, general angst
a/n: hi all! writers block has cleared for the moment and here is the chapter! unedited but is anyone surprised?
y/n never ended up sending steve the venmo request. upon the arrival to her apartment, she kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto her bed. she sobbed into her pillow. she could not handle the pain of her consequences. there was nothing else in the world that she wanted more than steve. she had never yearned for anything so badly. she felt as if she had ripped out a piece of her soul and left it in his car.
an hour or so later, she collected herself and stepped out of her room to find herself home alone. she let out a sigh of relief, and returned to her room. she opened the window and unpacked her suitcase. she changed her sheet, put on a load of laundry, and took a quick shower before sitting down in front of the television with a glass of wine in hand. she has been through enough heartbreaks to know that the world would not stop for her. she did not realize that she had been shaking the whole time until she brought the wine glass to her lips. after taking a small sip, she placed it on the coffee table and wrung her hands out.
“no more crying,” she told herself as a tear slipped down her cheek.
things were not much better for steve. he drove straight to the gym. he parked, popped the trunk, and opened his suitcase to look for work-out appropriate gear. all of his clothes had been neatly folded by y/n. his heart skipped a beat and then broke a little more. he rummaged through until he found a pair of sweatshorts and a t-shirt. after changing, he went straight for the punching bag. he wrapped his hands and set it up with no effort and then began his assault. he let out his pain, frustration, and sadness with each jab. her words echoed in his head and he could not shake them off. he swung around and kicked his leg out, nailing the bag a little too hard and causing it to fall from the hook. he glared at it, chest heaving. he could feel the stares of the other people there. he put the punching bag away and unwrapped his hands. he was shaking.
steve called into work the next day, saying he had a headache. it was true. he spent the day in his room, a glass of scotch never too far away.
y/n forced herself to get ready for work. she felt like shit. she was exhausted psychically and emotionally and her mind, body, and heart all screamed at her to stop but she pushed through. when she emerged from her room in the morning, natasha was in the kitchen, her morning coffee in hand.
“you look like shit,” she commented, bringing the mug to her lips to blow on the steaming contents.
“traveling is exhausting,” y/n replied. she headed to the fridge and opened in, glancing inside to see if there was anything that would make her appetite return. there wasn’t.
“how was it?” the redhead asked.
“it went,” she paused, searching for the right words, “as expected. we argued a lot.” she sent out a little prayer to any god that was listening that her roommate wouldn’t press the matter. she would fall apart if she had to talk about it. she grabbed a can of cold brew from the door of the fridge and cracked it open. she hoped it wasn’t obvious that her hands were shaking.
“i guess my predictions were off,” natasha chuckled.
y/n exhaled a small sigh of relief and offered her a small smile. “you can say that,” she remarked.
she made it through the workday with only three breaks to the bathroom to cry and wipe her snot away with scratchy toilet paper. after she left, she went home where she threw ingredients from the pantry and fridge into a pan to make some semblance of a meal. she poured herself a glass of wine, picked at her dinner, then stepped into the shower. she retired to her room where she watched a random show. eventually, she was lulled into a dreamless sleep. she awoke the next morning to a text from an unknown number.
Hello. It’s Thor. Steve gave me your number :)
she deleted the text.
all of her days blurred into one. she did the same thing everyday, with the exception of a grocery run and trip to the liquor store once a week. natasha would invite her to go out and she would politely decline. soon enough, summer neared its end. it hung over her like a storm cloud.
she was laying in bed with a throw blanket on and watching a sitcom when there was a knock on her door. she paused the show. “come in,” she called.
natasha pushed open the door and leaned against the wall. her curtains were drawn, but a cool breeze caused them to flutter. she knew something had happened between her and steve, as they were both in the same state of melancholy but neither of them told anyone the events of the trip. she knew she would find out eventually. she was an expert at the waiting game. “you have two options,” she began. “come with me to sam’s labor day party,” she held up her index finger, “or let your social life die in this room with you.” her middle finger joined the other and she wiggled them in the air. “choose wisely.”
y/n sucked in a breath. “work has been so stressful. my social battery is completely drained.” same excuse as always.
“two options,” natasha repeated. “bye-bye friends or hello free alcohol and dinner.”
“i want to stay home.”
“okay then, say it,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “say, ‘i choose to let my social life die in this room with me.’”
“i-” y/n opened her mouth and then shut it. she stared at natasha for a moment before kicking off her blanket. “damn you’re good,” she grumbled.
“i know,” she grinned. “you have thirty minutes to get ready.” she turned around to leave and closed the door.
“hello free alcohol and dinner,” y/n mumbled to herself.
she rolled out of bed. she found a summery midi dress in the back of her closet and changed into it. it was a hand-me-down from a friend who didn’t want it and hadn’t zipped the last time she attempted to wear it, but now the zip easily glided up. her lifestyle change had caused her to lose weight. she did minimal makeup and brushed her hair, which was, for the most part, styled from when she last washed it. she stared at herself in the mirror and couldn’t seem to recognize herself. her face was thinner. she reached up to touch her cheek but was interrupted with another knock.
“ready to go?”
“i don’t know if this is a good idea,” she replied.
“okay, then say it. ‘bye-bye social life.’”
“no,” y/n responded. “i’m ready.”
the pair stopped at the liquor store for a moderately priced bottle of wine before they reached sam’s house. natasha pressed the doorbell and a moment later the door swung open to reveal the smiling man. “long time no see!” he pulled y/n in for a bear hug.
she had been lost in her mind for so long that she had forgotten what comfort felt like. she melted into him and reciprocated the hug.
“i’m here too,” natasha joked, poking sam’s arm. “and i brought wine.”
“great to see you, too,” sam rolled his eyes then pulled away from y/n and gave her roommate a hug. “come in, we’re just about to get started on dinner.”
natasha had no problem sauntering into the house where y/n heard the sounds of everyone greeting her. she lingered in the entry-way for a moment, trying to pick out steve’s voice from the symphony. sam noticed her hesitation.
“what’s been keeping you away this summer?” he asked.
“work has been really hectic. everything just keeps piling up. i’m putting in overtime but i still can’t manage to get on top of things. by the time i get home, i’m too tired to do anything else,” she told him. it was true. she had been pouring herself into her work.
“that’s a shame. we’ve missed you around here, but i understand how it can be,” he nodded. “sometimes, when there’s a mountain of things to do, there can be just one thing that lightens the load. oftentimes it’s buried deep underneath and you have to dig around to find it and fix it,” he paused, letting his words steep in her mind, “maybe there’s some neglected or forgotten project. when you get around to it, it’ll make the mountain moveable.”
she wanted to burst and tell him about all the events that had transpired on her trip to boston. tell him about her regrets, her fears, and her heartache. instead, she took a deep breath and gave him a close-lipped smile. “thank you for the advice. i take it that things are going well at the V.A?”
“as smoothly as they can. it’s one day at a time for a lot of those folks. i just try to help and make those days a little more manageable.”
“since when have you been bashful? i like this new sam,” she joked, nudging him.
“whatever,” he chuckled. “now, are we gonna stand here all night or are we gonna go eat some dinner?”
just on cue, her stomach grumbled. they both dissipated into a bout of giggles. “does that answer your question?”
“okay, then let’s go!”
she mustered every ounce of courage in her body and followed him into the kitchen. she kept her eyes on her feet and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. although, she hadn’t heard his voice, she knew in her heart that steve was there. she could feel it. it was as if his heart was tugging on hers, begging to be reunited. she put her feelings aside as best as she could.
when she entered the kitchen, she raised her gaze up and locked eyes with steve. the feelings all came rushing back.
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No Strings Attached - Pt.8
Y/N vs. The Everything
Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series
More info here and on the Attached masterlist
Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 7100
It’s time to deal with the fallout of the events at the mall - and you’re not dealing with the all that good. But you’re not alone... not until it’s time to say goodbye at least.
Warnings: mention of gun violence and a GS wound (not reader), blood, hospitals, guilt & angst, the government being noisy af, a bit of fluff, language
A/N: Enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not really. But if want to know a bit, check out this post.
A/N: Having a long week? Have a long chapter 😅 Pretty much the last one from this series.
Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist
⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰
The ride to the hospital seemed fuzzy – everything was.
The bright lights of the ambulance, the smell of antiseptics, Casey’s serious face as he bullied the paramedics into letting you ride with them by flashing his badge.
The crimson of Steve’s blood, then the sharp noise of metal and rubber against the hospital floor as they wheeled Steve into surgery.
On autopilot, you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom and accepted washed clothes, unable to tell in retrospect who had brought it to you.
The bleak blue and grey of the hospital room, the drab white of the sheets. The steady beat of Steve’s heart amplified by the beeping of the machine that monitored it.
He had been lucky they said, it was ‘just a graze’, just as Sarah told you, but you still cried your eyes out, because the doctor could tell you all this information thanks to one simple reason – Steve had listed you as his medical next of kin.
The moment you learned, you didn’t care about the secret Bucky had been keeping from you and, more importantly, Steve; you gladly let him hold you as you broke down.
You must have fallen asleep in his arms too, because the next thing you remembered, you woke up fully clothed in the second bed in Steve’s hospital room otherwise unoccupied. Bucky must have moved you – the realization made your cheeks burn, but only briefly as you spotted him outside of the room, watching Sarah with a scowl on his face just as she knocked on the door.
“Come in-“ you croaked as you sat up, voice still hoarse from the crying.
Clearing your throat when you heard Sarah enter, you glanced towards Steve’s bed. You didn’t know what to expect, but unsurprisingly, he was still there, dosed by pain meds and anaesthetics, looking nearly peaceful as the lullaby of his own heart kept you sane.
Almost unwittingly, you made your way to him, pulling a chair next to his bed and taking a hold of his hand; it made your stomach swim when you noted how pale it was despite having seen it before you had cried yourself to sleep.
“Hey. Sorry to interrupt.” Sarah’s head peaked in, a subtle smile on her face. You nodded, unsure how else to respond. You couldn’t decide whether you were glad she was there to distract you from Steve’s predicament or not. “I know it’s not the best time, but I also think that maybe you’d like to get your mind busy with something else than… well. Steve resting after the surgery. I heard it went well. I’m glad.”
Reciprocating her smile, you beckoned her to come in. She had a point, you supposed, and she was so softspoken and respectful that you would actually feel mad at yourself if you sent her away. However, you were taken aback when you spotted the thin folder in her hand with a distinct logo on it; a coat of arms with an eagle’s head. The words you couldn’t make out, but your mind generously filled in the blanks.
Central intelligence agency.
Sarah’s mission was accomplished – this certainly distracted you effectively from the man lying in the hospital bed. Your eyebrows rose automatically, your heart skipping a startled beat. What was that about?
Sarah was clearly about to tell you, but it took everything in you not to fire out questions.
“Thanks,” you said instead, acknowledging Sarah’s courtesy.
The corners of her lips rose higher as she nodded, placing a chair on the opposite side of the bed, though in considerably larger distance than you had.
“I’m here to tell you a little something about the position you’ve earned by completing the test with such a high score--- it’s just an offer, and I don’t expect an answer right now,” she added quickly when she saw your expression that for sure screamed NO.
She stood up and handed you the file and your shaking fingers reluctantly clasped around it – but you laid it down on Steve’s bed, not bothering to reading it. Yet. Ever, probably.
Sarah’s face spoke of compassion and understanding at your actions.
“Like I said – no one expects you to decide right now. There’s some intel in the folder you can read through later. I just thought I’d give you a way to pass the time until he wakes up.”
You eyed the folder with the imposing logo on it, your stomach twisting. Everything in you screamed to burn that thing without even taking a closer look at it.
Alright, maybe not everything in you, there was a tiny part of you that you hated to acknowledge, one that whispered in curiosity, but you stomped on it harshly before it could get louder.
Steve got shot because of this. You had been shot at before you even knew you could become a part of this. There was no way you were willingly about to become a part of something like this… right? Your hand squeezed Steve’s with force, trying to ground yourself and face the blond spy seated in front of you.
“Okay. Thank you… I think.”
“There’s one more thing that’s not in the folder.”
You gulped, gaze flickering to Steve’s face instinctively, your heart pounding in your ribcage. Why did you have a feeling it concerned him too? The idea genuinely scared you.
“O-okay? What is it?”
As it turned out, there was no reason to be afraid. However, it was the best opportunity to get pissed to a point where you’d swear your blood boiled.
Your head swam, loud dull thumping in your ears as Sarah broke the news as gently as possible – but there was no way to say this in a way that wouldn’t make you want to scream.
Because they had no fucking right.
Then again, they did, right? They were an intelligence agency; gathering intel about people was what they did.
“Get the fuck outta here,” you muttered under your breath, eyes squeezed shut, hands curled into fists just so you wouldn’t yell at Sarah.
She was just doing her job – hell, maybe she was just the messenger. But Jesus fuck, you never felt so violated in your life and that was saying something given how up to your relationship with Steve some of the school gossipers were.
Sarah told you they were offering you a scholarship for your current Master’s, plus the programme for the analyst position for free if you chose to join; that was almost sweet.
Except that they went through your bank accounts. The CIA went through your and your parents’ bank accounts, so they knew how shortly after your father had purchased a return plane tickets to New York to visit you, they stopped financially supporting you. And that since then, you had to be careful with your finances.
You wanted to puke, you wanted to scream to the ceiling and at people, you wanted to throw things and then some.
Intelligence agency or not, they had no fucking right to be so invasive and then tell you that you could perhaps benefit from joining the programme.
That sounded a tiny bit like blackmail and you fucking hated them for it.
“I’m sorry. It’s a standard procedure, there’s nothing personal in this,” Sarah whispered as she rose to her feet, her words so sincere you would have believed her if you weren’t furious.
Nothing personal my ass.
“Right,” you commented, unable to keep the bitter sarcasm from your voice. “Glad you told me. I’ll think about it.”
Yeah, not fucking happening.
As if your thoughts were radiating off you – or the woman leaving the room was an extremely observant spy, har har, – she gave a tight-lipped smile. Small, but not ungenuine.
“That’s all we ask. I hope Professor Rogers will get better soon. Good luck. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”
That got your attention and sent your train of thought elsewhere – the’ maybe’.
Sarah shrugged. “We’ll be doing some more tests at the university, but we’ll lay low and will soon be replaced so we can relocate Chuck back to--- where we are usually stationed, as a precaution. So I don’t think we’ll run into each other again unless you’re joining.”
Your heart sunk into your stomach at the idea of joining – but also at the idea of not seeing Chuck or not saying goodbye to him. Despite how gentle Sarah tried to be, Chuck Bartowski was definitely the friendliest from the trio (or quartet, if you counted Natasha Romanoff, you guessed) and was the one to make you feel human in the past two days or so.
Jesus, had it really been less two days? You felt like you aged a decade since this mess started.
“Right. Goodbye then and… thank you,” you added, realizing you might have never said it earlier. “For keeping me safe.”
“You’re welcome. That’s the job.”
“Still,” you insisted, feeling bad for being short with her, as rude as being so invasive like her agency was. You did owe her for still being alive. How crazy was that? “And please… give my best to Chuck? …and Casey too.”
Her smile grew when you hastily added Casey as a courtesy – but you were also genuinely grateful for him enabling you to ride in the ambulance with Steve.
“Of course. Goodbye, Y/N.”
With that, she was out of the door, leaving you alone with your hurricane of thoughts and emotions; and your unconscious recently-shot fiancé.
⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰
“It’s not gonna bite you, you know?” a voice snapped you from your dark thoughts, startling you – but simultaneously bringing a smile to your face.
Ignoring the remark, you gladly raised your gaze from the folder you had moved to the nightstand and stared at for what felt like eternity while toying with Steve’s fingers. He still hadn’t woken up – minutes felt like hours, hours like eternity.
The man in question gave an awkward wave that made your heart grow in size.
Still cute. In a very platonic way, of course.
“I’m happy to see you. Heard you were leaving and I thought I wouldn’t get a chance to thank you and say goodbye.”
A pleased smile to lit up his expression at your admission.
“Me too! It would feel wrong to just… vanish. And I, uhm,” he paused as his hand slid into the left pocket of his jacket, waving the item he pulled out at you. “I brought you something.”
It took you four seconds of squinting to identify the object as a phone. A phone that looked suspiciously like yours.
But that--- that couldn’t be. Right? It must have had been beyond saving. It had caught a knife through; that must have cracked not only the screen but everything.
“Let’s say the US government owed you a new one,” Chuck exclaimed cheerfully, grinning as he made his way to you to hand you the device.
It really looked precisely like the model you had. But… seriously? The government was sending you a new phone? That sounded fishy. Was it so they could spy on you?
Okay, you were really getting paranoid. Could anyone blame you though?
“Oh. Oh, that’s… really generous?” you said hesitantly, a silent question in your eyes as your gaze roamed Chuck’s face.
His smile was easy, if little embarrassed.
“Yeah, well, technically, it’s the US citizens who’s paying, so…” he shrugged it off, scratching his nape right after, a little colour rushing to his cheeks. ”I eh, I kinda work with electronics in my everyday life, so… I took the liberty and tried to salvage what I could from the one Sarah murdered with her knife and… here we go. Good as new, because it’s, well, new, and all data preserved.”
At that, your jaw dropped.
For one, you were sure that if Chuck went through the phone, there were no bugs (…right?) and he--- he actually went through the trouble of trying to save your stuff? How incredibly sweet and thoughtful was that?
Not that you weren’t delighted and relieved that you wouldn’t have to spend money on a new phone to begin with, but this? Chuck Bartowski was a godsent.
You jumped to your feet, impulsively throwing your arms around him, squeezing him with all your might with gratitude.
“Oh my god, Chuck, that’s amazing! Thank you!” you muttered into his shoulder, noting that a few tears involuntarily escaped your eyes… it had been a long day, alright. But as quickly as you hugged him, you let the poor man go before he could reciprocate. “When did you even had time to do that?”
The guardian angel of your phone data just shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“It was no problem and it didn’t take that long. Like I said, all in the days’ work.”
It was not. He had obligation whatsoever. And yet he had done this for you. What did it make him besides like, perfect?
“Well, you’re my hero now.”
“Pretty sure that’s him,” Chuck hummed, unsubtly pointing his thumb to Steve’s temporary bed.
Maybe it was Chuck’s warm presence, but it seemed that Steve’s skin was gaining more colour and along with that, life returned to your veins as did hope. You turned back to Chuck with a small smile playing in the corner of your lips.
“Well, I heard you helped to take down the other bad guy, so… kudos. I mean it. That was crazy brave and smart thinking,” you complimented.
Unwillingly, you recalled more than Chuck’s actions; glum returned to your mind as the memory of the flashing lights of the ambulance hit you, blood seeping through Steve’s shirt. Your throat felt tight again, your next words barely pushed through.
“But yeah, Steve… he’s my hero too. But I think I’d prefer having a—breathing coward, which he is not by any means, than a--- non-breathing hero.” You shook your head – shaking off the memories and reminding yourself that Steve was gonna be fine. He had to be. And he saved your life, so that was something. “But I guess it helps he literally caught a bullet for me. I just hope this is the only time it happens.”
Chuck’s gaze flickered to the folder on the nightstand.
“It’s a crazy world we offer you to join in.”
‘Crazy’ was one word for it; but not the one you would use, should you rely on your experience so far.
“Looks less crazy and more like very painful to me. Rather lonely too,” you pondered, noticing the tinniest rise of one corner of Chuck’s lips, his hands slipping into the front pockets of his jeans.
“You consider joining to make it less lonely for others like us?”
Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flickering in your chest. Dammit. He’d better stop being so cute when asking shit like that. That was blackmail too. Like, innocent and ingenuous blackmail.
“I don’t know, Chuck…” you whispered, gaze shifting to Steve, a reminder why there was only one possible answer. This could never happen again; not to Steve, not to you. “Just what happened today… I know I probably wouldn’t be in a gunfight every day, being an analyst, but things can get off rails and… there would be lies and secrets and--- no privacy, clearly, since you just had my bank records checked as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do and… I don’t want to get hurt. I certainly don’t want Steve to get hurt ever again.”
Chuck’s smile was compassionate and it made you feel a little better about leaving him in the lurch alone. Did that make you a bad person? A selfish one? Maybe. But not everyone could be Steve Rogers or Chuck Bartowski.
“I understand. You have a choice. I didn’t have that – and I’m not entirely sure what I’d do, knowing what was gonna happen if I had it,” he admitted. “And I know I’m kinda shooting myself in a foot here--- excuse the pun! But… I’m not gonna tell you that people you care about are always gonna be safe if you join.”
Cold fist squeezed your heart at the idea. As if you already didn’t know you didn’t want to join. Hearing this from Chuck who could speak from experience? It made your head spin and your stomach turn.
You were no hero – you couldn’t dedicate your life to your country and the rest of the world. You were just one little you and you wanted your little quiet life.
“And there are gonna be lies and secrets, it’s how it works. If someone you care about isn’t getting hurt physically… sometimes they get hurt because you have to disappoint them because of this-- this so-called greater good. And sometimes you just can’t tell them the truth. So yeah. It can be lonely, painful and trust me, insane is on the top of the list,” he emphasized, eyes ridiculously wide.
It made you grin – and the shiver and discomfort from earlier vanished, replaced by a warm feeling of being in a presence of an insanely good and honest person who had undoubtedly been through some serious shit, but remained a human equivalent of sunshine.
“You really aren’t making the best effort to sell this here, Chuck,” you chuckled a bit, hoping he understood it was a compliment to his kind heart.
“It is what it is.”
Indeed. There was one last question remaining. A pointless one perhaps, but you wanted to ask just in case you decided to think it through again; they say you should never say never.
“If I do go into that programme… and I’m good… and then I decide to leave. There will be consequences, won’t they?” you asked quietly, earning a grimace from Chuck and a so-so motion of his hand. “They’d take their money back if nothing else, that would be fair, I suppose… but if I’m really good, they won’t even let me go, will they?”
Chuck didn’t hesitate longer than two seconds before he answer with a sigh: “No. I don’t think they will.”
Well, okay, that was another big reason for no.
“Thanks for being honest.”
He just shrugged again, his eyes softening.
“Look… I lucked out. I trust Sarah and Casey with my life. Maybe you would too with your handlers, I don’t know. All I know that even though I have to lie to everyone I know and it affected my life in ways I hate--- I’m doing some good too. Sometimes in unorthodox ways, like when we disarmed a bomb by entering pornsite-”
You nearly chocked on air. Say WHAT?!
“Don’t ask,” Chuck chuckled, shaking his head with a fond smile on his face.
“Right. Gotta say that sounds unorthodox for sure. I guess you do have some funny stories to throw in besides the… well. Terrible ones. The thing is… well. Unlike me, you have an extra reason to stay.”
You couldn’t but smirk, not having missed the affection he spoke Sarah’s name with; or how it was written all over his face whenever she was in the room. Chuck was obviously a goner for her – and you didn’t blame him.
A hot sweet badass agent, probably saving his life on regular basis? Who wouldn’t fall for that?
You shot him a look that hopefully spoke thousands of words and every single one of them told him not to try spewing bullshit.
Chuck cleared his throat, eyes widening a fraction, blush heating up his cheeks.
“Maybe. Then you have an extra reason not to join the mad-wagon we are.”
And wasn’t that the point... one of them anyway.
“Yeah, sounds about right. But it’s not just Steve. I don’t think I’m built for something like this… then again, it can’t be all that bad if people like you are a part of it,” you contemplated with a smile, the red in Chuck’s cheeks only intensifying. You felt only a little bad for being the cause. “Or Bucky for that matter, Christ, I’m still processing that. Just… what I want to say is… thank you, Chuck. For everything.”
He gave you his signature lopsided smile along with an awkward wave and turned to leave the room – and probably, your life too. It felt wrong; you didn’t thank him enough and you wished you could perhaps talk a little bit more. About anything. There was just something about him….
“Yeah?” he eyed you curiously, closing the door again.
You supposed that if nothing else, you owed him one thing. One thing that had been brought up in conversation between the two of you and you had changed the subject. Telling him could be a nice parting gift, no matter how embarrassing for you, right?
Biting down on your lip, you tried to ignore how you already felt your face burning.
“Can you keep a secret?” you asked, which earned you a glare questioning whether you were thinking you were being funny.
You snorted and took a deep breath, staring at Chuck’s chest for you were unable to meet his eyes.
“The thing you asked about earlier… me and Steve. Eh, I write sometimes? And uhm… I happened to write a story about Steve--- well, an imaginary professor who was a lot like him. And I accidently sent it instead of an assignment. To Bucky… who happens to be Steve’s best friend, so there was no way he didn’t recognize the template for the character. Obviously, he had to share. So… you can imagine the rest. That’s how Steve and I got together.”
The brilliant smile that brightened up Chuck’s face was totally worth the embarrassment, even if his nose scrunched in bewilderment.
“Thanks for telling me! But that… does categorize as a meet-cute, I think,” he wondered, his confusion only understandable.
Purposely, you had been a little vague. It made sense he’d think the meeting was cute. Too embarrassed to add the crucial detail, you just made a so-so motion with your hand, questioning the claim.
Chuck, the brilliant guy, caught up though.
“Oh…? OH!” Chuck cried out, realization slapping him in the face. “The story, it was… kinda--- well-“
“Dirty?” you pipped up helpfully, earning an affirmative hum. His face was so hilarious that you barely found the admission awkward. “Yeah. Pretty much filthy, to be honest.”
His jaw went slack, his eyes measuring you head-to-toe as if seeing you in completely new light; but there was no disgust, no judgement... ironically enough, it almost seemed as if there was a int of admiration.
“Sorry, just… processing. It’s still kinda cute. In a very… explicit-rated way.” You snorted in amusement as he searched for words, heart light at his easy acceptance. “Given the fact that I had my fair share of e-mail mishaps and the last time I got an important e-mail, it was filled with government secrets that are now downloaded into my brain… I think you did alright.”
This time, you chuckled breathlessly, not bothering to try and wrap your head around the new piece of information. Instead, you let the grin threatening to tear your mouth glow.
“Well. My e-mail mishap seems to have a happy ending. I hope yours does too, Chuck.”
He grinned right back at you.
“Poetic, I like it,” he commented. “I guess I’ll have to go to meet that end now. But eh… if you decide to go into that programme or, even if don’t and you just wanna chat about this with someone who isn’t your fiancé, or to hang out over the phone or whatever… reach out.”
Your heart skipped a happy beat and you couldn’t but raise your arms in to offer a hug this time. And Chuck, the sunshine boy he was, obviously accepted, wrapping his long arms around you gently, if briefly.
“I’ll remember that and I think I might take you up on--- wait, but I don’t have-“
“I kinda saved it to your phone. You might wanna set a lock on that new thing…” Chuck advised sheepishly.
“That’s not--- I wasn’t-“ he stuttered, eyes flickering to Steve’s bed as if you fiancé could regain consciousness now when it looked like Chuck was hitting on you. You wished – the wake-up part, not the flirting. “You can always delete it.”
“Please, I’m messing with you. Thank you, Chuck, and… good luck. With her, among other things.”
He just opened his mouth, no sound coming out. He couldn’t deny his feelings for Sarah; anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see it.
“Thanks… I think. Take care.”
“I’ll try. Goodbye, Chuck.”
“Fare the well, my friend,” he exclaimed theatrically, bringing another smile to your face and as the door clicked behind him, you felt exactly like it was what had happened when you met Chuck.
That you found a new friend.
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“Thought you didn’t want people to know about your writing,” a scratchy voice interrupted your mindless stare, still fixated at the door Chuck had just left through.
Your head snapped to the bed an instant, feet moving before you could think twice.
“Steve! Oh my god-”
With heart leaping to your throat, you barely stopped yourself before you could smother Steve in a bone-crushing hug. It took all your willpower to only carefully take a seat on the bed by his waist, clasping his unharmed hand between yours.
“…hi,” he croaked, squinting at you sleepily, testing how much he could shuffle around.
Gaze quickly finding the of the cup of water on the nightstand, you let go of Steve and attempted to – albeit clumsily – help him up a bit. The warmth of his back was bliss, a prove of life much like the healthier colour in his cheeks. You held out the water with a straw for him, earning a grateful smile once he finished.
You just shook your head at him thanking you for being a decent human being, blinking away tears that somehow gathered in your eyes. Of course he was being painfully polite and sweet even in a moment like this.
Slowly breathing in and out to calm down, you tried and failed to smile back, the curl of your lips more of a grimace.
“How are you feeling?”
“Eh- “ he huffed, eyes still misted over as he thought hard about the answer, assessing his state. It took him too long to your liking and you felt your heart sinking and quickening at once. “Tired for sure, everything kinda hurts and flows, but the memory of what happened is surprisingly sharp…”
Air stuck in your throat at his admission.
Had he not remembered, things might have gone differently at the moment. But he did and it was like a switch flipped in your brain.
You exploded; all the emotions that had been bubbling under the surface and sometimes peeking out firing up at once.
Guilt. Fear. Anger.
“Oh good, you DO remember! What were you thinking?! You caught a bullet for me! And passed out on me! You scared me to death! Jesus, Steve, what the hell?!” you cried out, jumping to your feet as you felt like actually hitting him to make him understand how incredibly fucking stupid he had been. “If I knew this was gonna happen I would have never EVER asked you to come! Jesus fucking Christ, you got shot!”
Your voice broke at the last word, nothing but a croak as the sheer horror-like memory of blood and his limp body overwhelmed you, forcing you to turn over and squeeze your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to erase the memory that was seared into your brain.
You took in a deep breath, your body trembling as you tried to swallow the sobs threatening to claw up your throat.
Instead, your tears were silent as you stared on a blank wall, wishing your mind could be similarly void of anything; but your heart and lungs felt heavy as if filled with lead instead.
His voice was so quiet you almost missed it, wondering if you imagined it. But when you swiftly spun on your heel to face Steve, he was gazing up at you with eyes so sincere it almost overshadowed the bruise-like circles under his eyes.
And you had no idea what he was talking about.
“Me, coming with you. You didn’t ask for it, I offered,” Steve clarified, one corner of his lips rising in a resemblance of a boyishly innocent smile that would have taken your breath away hadn’t his words lit up a flare of anger in your chest.
That was what he took from what you said?!
“Because you’re an idiot!” you shrieked, throwing your hands in the air.
His smile grew a tad amused, one eyebrow quirking. Darn it, could he stop being adorable for just a second-!
Pressing your lips together, you shook your head and slowly sat down by his thighs, tired of fighting the visceral need to touch him, hold him and never let go just so he wouldn’t do anything stupid again.
He interlaced his fingers with yours, eyes clearing as you blinked away your tears.
“My idiot,” you added in a conciliatory manner. “I love how much you care about me, I love you, but fuck don’t you ever do that again!”
Steve pondered for a moment as if he wanted to test your patience – but after all that happened, it was a dangerous game to play.
“I was lucky-” he stared off at last and you couldn’t agree more, fear creeping into your voice.
“Yes, yes you were. Could have been worse than a ‘graze’, Steve. But seriously, I don’t see how something that bleeds so much categorizes as a graze.”
Steve shook his head gingerly, his smile gaining a bit of a patronizing edge.
“Could have been you. I was lucky to react fast and cover you,” he elaborated slowly, eyes intently boring into yours, making your heart race as you suddenly understood what he was saying.
Better me than you.
Better my bicep than your head – just like Casey had said.
You understood why he felt like that, you knew that in a purely pragmatic way, he was right, but… couldn’t it had been that no one got shot? Why couldn’t it go as simple as that, no bigger or lesser evil? Just you and Steve, happily ever after, safe and sound and in love.
And love was all you saw, the mist of pain barely noticeable in Steve’s eyes as he was trying to be strong for you. As he was trying to tell you that it was okay, when in fact, it wasn’t.
Nothing was okay.
You didn’t realize your lips started wobbling until a sob fought its way out thought them, the dam of breaking and releasing tears to run freely down your face.
And with it, you broke too.
Sobs shook your body, vision blurring as you tried to stifle the sounds of pure misery erupting from your throat.
In the back of your mind, you knew the scene was ironic; you two in a hospital room, because Steve had gotten shot, but here you were, being the one on the verge of insanity. It was absurd of you to feel like losing your mind instead of consolidating Steve.
And apparently, it was about to get even more absurd as Steve’s hushed voice called your name.
“Oh no, babygirl. Come here.”
A hiss escaped him as he scooted closer, instinctively leaning onto the injured arm, but that was all indication of pain you got before his arm reached out to embrace your trembling form.
And you let him. You allowed him to hold you tight, face burying in the terrible hospital gown smelling of antiseptics and anxiety, but it was still Steve to you – him, his warm presence, his beating heart in your ear, his chapped lips on the top of your head.
“Shh, don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m okay-”
“Liar,” you choked out between the sobs, desperately trying to just stop shaking.
Woman up, dammit!
“Well, I’m gonna be okay,” Steve corrected himself, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I love you. We’re okay. We’re okay.”
Were you? And what if you weren’t? More precisely, what if he wasn’t? Huh?! What then?!
“You could—could’ve been ki-“
“So could you,” he reminded you, somewhat gentle despite how petrifying his words were. “But we’re fine, we’ll be just fine…”
“I was so scared-“
“Me too, babygirl. Me too. And not just for you, for me too. That’s normal,” he assured you, fingers softly treading through your locks as he spoke.
Logically, you knew Steve was right, that no matter how absurd your breakdown was, it was perfectly justifiable; but logic was not on the menu for your brain today.
God, you were exhausted. You didn’t even have energy to cry anymore, sobs minutely subduing.
“You still came, even when scared,” you breathed out, shifting in his embrace to look at his face, noticing how his eyes turned glassy. “You came and protected me.”
“Of course I did. You’re my--- oh babygirl…” he rasped, gazing up and blinking away the few solitary tears in his eyes. Never finishing the sentence as if he wasn’t sure how, he smiled a bit; pained and somehow proud when he refocused on you. “You still came too. To help them catch the bad guy.”
You scoffed at the comparison. “Not like I really had a choice.”
“Yes, you did. You could have stayed hidden and have them sort it out in some other way. You just decided not to,” he argued, expression grave, forcing you to consider what he was saying.
Was he really trying to say that you had been brave?
Was that what it was? Was there a little piece of courage in your decision? You thought it was all choosing between an option that sucked and one that sucked more, and you chose the less tedious but more dangerous way.
Naturally, you had no doubt about Steve’s courage when he chose to go with you.
Was it fair to assume that a part of you truly was brave as well?
The faith in Steve’s eyes was all the answer you needed, acceptable at least for now.
“…Fear is a reaction. Courage is a decision,” you muttered, the words falling from your lips before you could think twice.
The brilliant smile and the kiss Steve graced you with was the best reward.
“Exactly. Look at my smart girl quoting Churchill.”
Before you could respond, his lips attached to yours again, wet and salty due to your tears, fresh ones he chased and caught when they rolled down your cheeks, brushed away by his whiskers.
The tenderness of his mouth and hands had your heart ache, ribcage tight and lips hungry for his; your fingers sunk into his locks to pull him in for another kiss, a dance desperate for life.
You swiftly let go and retreated when as your brain cleared, a breathy apology on your lips.
“I’m sorry, this gotta to be really painful and I should be the one to comfort you and-“
“No,” Steve chuckled, panting, a subtle grimace of pain revealing his lie. “I mean, yeah, it hurts, but I really just want to hold you now. And kiss you. A lot.”
Who were you to deny an injured man, one you loved and one so damn charming even in a hospital gown no less? It was unfair, really, he fought dirty against the voice reason.
Good thing logic was not on the menu today indeed.
“Okay. I guess that can be arranged.”
Pecking his lips, you helped him lie down and curled by his side, not protesting when he hugged you closer but revelling in it instead.
“You’re my everything,” he whispered to your hair, causing your heart to stutter, happily so, even if more tears threatened to escape your eyes.
His earlier actions left no doubt – he spoke the ultimate truth, as scary and beautiful it was.
Before you hid your face in the crook of his neck, telling yourself the nurses could live five more minutes without knowing he was awake, you confessed you felt the same.
“You’re my everything too. And I’m not letting anything or anyone to get between us. Especially some damn spies.”
⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰
Chuck couldn’t help it – he watched through the opened blinds on the window to the hall as the two lovebirds reunited with a storm of emotions that inevitably ended with them snuggled to each other’s side.
It was like a rom-com despite the initial fight Chuck couldn’t make out, but identified by Y/N’s expression and loud voice. And now the pair crammed on the single bed as if there was no other space in the room for Y/N to be.
“Looks like you made a friend,” Sarah’s voice interrupted his shameless spying, having him snap his head to her with a wistful smile.
Damn, she looked gorgeous with her hair up in a ponytail, making her beautiful features stand out. He almost forgot what she said, too distracted by her charms.
“Maybe?” she chuckled brightly, crossing her arms on her chest. “You seemed to hit it off pretty well if you ask me.”
“Well, she’s nice and funny…” Chuck shrugged, sparing one more glance at the pair through the window, unable to get rid of the intrusive thought of what if the operation in the mall ended up worse. And many other what ifs. “…and this could have been me, you know?”
Sarah’s smile fell, eyes flickering to the subject of their mission without a word.
“Taking that test… if someone had figured out all those years ago that my score was that high… I could have been where she is now.” Minus a shot significant other. Probably. “But it wasn’t. I got framed for cheating and got kicked out, only for the Intersect to find its way to me again. Funny how life works.”
It was not funny at all. But standing there, with Sarah, who let him ponder without necessarily intervening, her mere presence a comfort and so much more, he couldn’t but admit that you were right, as if he hadn’t known before.
He did have an extra reason to stay.
“Guess it was all for a reason,” Sarah hummed, tone gentle as the brush of her fingers over his arm.
“Yeah… and it turned out there wouldn’t have been a choice for me. Is there gonna be one for her?” he asked, only for Sarah to avert his gaze. “I mean… if she says no. Will they respect her decision and let her go?”
“I don’t know, Chuck. Like you said, there was never gonna be a choice with you. Once the agency got your results, they wanted you. The circumstances had it that they didn’t get their hands on you then, but they were right. You turned out to be a great asset on many occasions. I don’t see how they’re gonna pass on an opportunity like that,” she said, eyes big and genuine, hope and regret mirroring in them all the same. “But I honestly don’t know.”
“So what happens now?”
Chuck jumped good two feet above the ground when a male voice sneaked behind him, a tiny yelp escaping him.
“And what’s the cover story?” agent Barnes continued, appearing by Sarah’s side, posture defensive – but not enough to intimidate Sarah.
Like there was anything to intimidate her but talking about her past.
“You guys here keep an eye on her. Whatever her choice is – if there is a choice at all… the local university unit will make sure she’s safe, just in case,” she added, unfazed by Barnes’ questions.
“Right… just in case,” Barnes sighed, eyes fixed on his alleged best friend hugging his fiancée close, completely disregarding his injury.
Chuck felt cold ghost-like fingers creep up his spine when after being distracted by the sheer romance he remembered that the poor man got shot.
“She’ll be okay. She’s got good people looking after her,” Sarah offered with a slight curl to her lips and Chuck couldn’t but agree. He had seen Romanoff, Barnes and Rogers in action alright. Good people.
“Yeah, she does.”
“As for the story, we inform the press as truthfully as possible without revealing much,” Sarah added in a matter-of-fact voice. “There was a shooting at the mall, one civilian shot, but not in critical condition. We got a tip that a man who we’ve been looking for was spotted and the situation got a little messy, because he had two accomplices.”
At that, Barnes frowned – Chuck would too, but he had learned to trust Sarah… and Casey, as much as the man kept growling at him whenever he could.
“People saw. Someone might be able to identify Steve or his girl. Question their involvement. They were wearing vests, as Y/N brilliantly showed when doing striptease-”
“No one will believe those people. If we’re smart when spreading the news, we’ll be fine. Details given to the press by the witnesses about vests and such will not be considered credible – not by decent media anyway,” Sarah shrugged, this time almost clinical – and scary. “As for your friends, there’s no problem with them being present in the first place. They were identified at the photos taken at the mall just two hours before the shooting after all. Rogers got hurt protecting his fiancée, that’s true and it might make him a university hero for a while, but that’s all. Don’t worry about that, Agent Barnes.”
Barnes flinched at the addressing, a resemblance of a sheepish smile passing his lips.
“Eh. Still getting used to that. I just hope you’re right about this. It was nice working with you, Walker, I like your knifework. Carmichael.”
Right. Carmichael. Barnes didn’t know Chuck’s real last name… not many people did from the spyworld, but it was still hard to keep track.
And just like Barnes appeared, he silently took off; not before sparing a glance at the pair still clinging to each other.
“We should go. You know Casey, he’ll get all growly if we’re late,” Sarah joked lightly, beckoning to the exit. “They’ll be okay. We did good. You did good. Come on.”
And just like Barnes, Chuck just hoped Sarah was right about this. It was the only thing that allowed him to leave and follow Sarah – well, that, and the fact it was her asking.
It was time to go and close this chapter.
That night, the joined database of the CIA and the NSA was hacked without any trace left. The only thing missing, as found much later, were the records of three students’ tests.
Only very few people knew that one of them happened to be the one with the highest score.
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Words that Hang in the Air (next in timeline)
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Thank you for reading 💕
By the way, once they are out of hospital and Steve feels a bit better, they’ll totally have a passionate “We’re alive sex”, okay.
Also. I can tell you the two other students’ results that got deleted were just not to be too obvious about Y/N’s, but I’m not telling who exactly hacked the database. I’d love to hear your tips ;)
I mean… Was it Bucky? Maybe he convinced Natasha to do it? Was it Chuck who works with electronics and especially computers in his civilian life and wants Y/N to stay out of this life unlike him? Or did Chuck kept asking Sarah to do it until she gave in? Was it Casey, who grunts around, but totally ships it, because in heart he is a big softie and can respect Professor loverboy Rogers for getting shot protecting his loved one? Was it Tony Stark, aka genius philanthropist, who happens to be Steve’s so-so friend and does not care for Fury’s BS? Or maybe it was someone else…
I’m gonna shut up now.
OH! This is kinda like a last chapter, but a two-shot will closely follow 😇
27 notes · View notes
tangled mess (s.r.)
summary ⇾ steve braids your hair (and sam is a tough critic)
details ⇾ 993 words / steve rogers x reader / 🌸a bunch of fluff / with a small side of bestfriend!sam+bucky ✨
notes ⇾ idk man, the idea came and i just went with it 🥴
take a bit of hair together with the section you’re holding and go over the middle section. with the newest left section, take a bit of hair and now bring that over to the middle. repeat the process and... “okay... o-kay... doesn’t look complete shit,” you mumble to yourself, nimble fingers picking apart the strands of hair as your eyes trail from the laptop screen, back to your reflection to the mirror even if you can’t quite see what it looks like at the back of your head, “i don’t hate it just yet–”
"jeez!” you feel your heart stopping, your hands frantically letting go of whatever you had been working on. your heart feels like it’s about to fly out of your chest and–”stevie...” you grumble, hair already falling out of place but you can’t let your anger simmer when such blue, bright eyes are already sparkling at you as he makes his way in.
“one of these days, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,”
“and let you get away from me so easily?” he scoffs a laugh, striding towards you and easily taking over your seat by the vanity so you’d use his lap as a new seat instead. (don’t tell him, you prefer this much more) “nice try, doll. not gonna happen.”
“now i gotta start all over again,” you tap on the spacebar to pause the video tutorial you were following, now capturing steve’s attention to: “french braiding for beginners?”
“yeah...” you lean back against his firm chest, hands sliding over his forearms wrapped around your waist. you’re comfortable in his embrace especially after he’s just showered from his morning jog, “just figured i’d try. nat mentioned i should try the other day so...”
"you’re taking fashion advice from her?”
“maybe,” you chuckle, patting his arms to loosen so you can get up. steve follows suit, only to gently grab you by the waist and push you down onto the seat. he’s hovering behind you to see if he could see the screen properly and he manages to press it into full screen.
a small smile crawls onto your face at what he’s doing but you don’t question it just yet. it’s not until he’s figuring out how to play the video from the start that you place a hand over his above your laptop.
“rogers, what’re you doing?”
he seems a bit too shy to say it but ultimately he relents.
"what? i can’t give it a try?”
“is there a retirement plan revolving being a hair stylist i don’t know about?”
“well...” he nudges you to face the mirror, so he can start to brush your hair and follow along with the tutorial that begins, “you were almost done and i messed it up. so i wanna make things right,”
“as sweet as you are, i probably ruined it myself. i have also accepted the fact that i suck and will probably just ask nat to help me,”
“you think she will?”
“if you can’t resist my puppy eyes, neither can she,”
“i beg to differ,” steve shakes his head with a grin, remembering very well how you tried to pull the puppy eyes on her once and she hesitated for a second before turning you down.
“i’ll settle for you, then. more than enough for me.”
steve doesn’t respond with words, only fondly gazing into your eyes through the mirror when you’re already staring at him back. with reflected smiles, steve easily diverts his attention back to braiding your hair with a smile lingering on his face. though it’s in a different context, steve likes how he’s able to depict your words to take them as they are and they’d still fit.
i’ll settle for you then. more than enough for me.
that regardless of what steve does, be it if he still doesn’t understand pop culture references or if even when he’s still behind in quite a lot of things when it came to learning about today’s world day after day, it always felt like having you by his side made it easier–no, it made it all better.
it felt like instead of saving the world, maybe–just maybe–his purpose of being back is to be saved by you.
“it’s all falling out of place again,”
at your words, steve is reeled back into reality and he gapes at the mess he wasn’t paying attention to. he frowns at this, creases to his forehead as he grabs the hair brush to–”lemme try again.”
this was gonna take a while. thank goodness you didn’t have any plans today. and, well, with the way steve was determined to get this right (for you) made it all the more bearable to sit here even for hours if he needed it.
((”wow, uh... trying out a new look?” sam comments, just as you step out of the front door (planning to pickup lunch), already bumping into two familiar faces showing up unannounced. bucky only offers a small smile, as if he’s trying to bite back a grin forming on his face as he takes in your... new hairdo.
“what’d you think? i call it: ‘the à la steve rogers’,”
both sam and bucky give each other a side glance; as if to communicate that you’re lucky your face is cute. that hair’s not cutting it.
“...steve did that?” sam doesn’t even hide his tone of amusement.
"that’s highly believable,” bucky nods, lips pursued slightly in agreement.
“eh, luckily he doesn’t plan on being a hair stylist,” you snicker, leaning in close and the two of them instinctively dive in to listen: “i double checked. hair stylist’s not part of the retirement plan.”
“good to know there’s something cap’s horrible at,”
“i heard that!” steve voice bellows past the walls, already building sam’s rebuttal as he lightly nudges you to the side to yell past the gap of the unclosed door, “good to know your ears work fine, old man!”))
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Please I'm bad at English-
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barners, reader x Steve Rogers (one-sided crush from reader to Steve, this one hit me so bad)
Summary: You are in love with Steve and about to open up but then not when you realized something.
Warning: angst, stupid in love Steve, one-sided crush, bad English goes brr brrrrr, everyone with a happy ending but not u <3, Infinity War and End Game? What is it? Poor paraphrase about falling in love with the first sign.
"Sleep now? You sure you don't want to join us ?" Bruce asks you when you get up and make an excuse about the schedule- lame, but you really don't want to join, especially when see him so close with someone else: his head rests on "his" shoulder while "his" arm locked behind his back. For so long, that was your place...
Why are you look so blissfully with him?
Why aren't you good enough for him?
Why do you have to hurt yourself so much?
"Yes" you shrug "Quite tired with papers so good night human" you smile tired at them and leave.
When the door elevator close, you leaning against the wall and slowly crawling down. Some tears already build up in your eyes, hopelessness, tired... This is your fault, you shouldn't take this position. Maybe if you refused, things can go better than now.
--------- ---------------------- ---------------------- -------------- --------
How long? Maybe for 2 years? Or 3 years? Perhaps longer? You couldn't remember properly... yet you still remember when you met him, face-to-face, during a fight from androids like Sam tell you before?? :
You are so withered, blood is everywhere on your clothes-god, your bank account is not going to be happy with it. One down, two downs, three downs,... where are they? It's should be your day, a grunt escapes your mouth: a cup of tea on the rooftop of a building and sleep- not this. No suit, just a pair of comfy clothes for a sunny Saturday.
Your voice is hoarse from yelling, getting people to a safe place, nonetheless, a stupid reporter still decided to get in the dangerous spot. Bragging about how the Avengers did not come to help and let a "kid" fight solitary. You try to make a sign for them to get out while trying not to be blasted or crushed under those cars. It seems those androids noticed your gaze, their target quickly turns to the reporter and attacks them - before you could notice it.
And there he is: knock out the androids while the reporter got out safely by the Falcon. The whole team comes out from nowhere with the people cheers, but all your attention is his figure, the way he picks up the shield, walks to you, and places his hand on your shoulder with a genuine smile.
You reminisce those eyes-blues like the ocean: The longer you examined it, you can see there is a storm in it, freezing but burning with determination, it tugs you down to the bottom of the large cold ocean, the whirlwind under the sea of mystery swallows you without leaving any second to breathe. You are so lost, drowning and drinking of it.
It's in the middle of September, but the body feels like summer while the mind is like in spring: Your heart racing fast, your temperature changing rapidly along with multiply flowers, fireworks blooming on your mind and stomach... For a second:
You feel warm, calm in it.
You suddenly wanted more
" Thanks for the backup. We'll take it from here."
Then he shot back with the team, the whole team quickly finishing blow the last and like always: motivate, cheer spur on,...everyone forgot the "kid" backup them during 30 minutes alone. But you already get used to it and that's how you proclaim with this part-time job: solo, try not to drag as much as acquaintances on this wild run,...
After making sure no one noticed, you secretly withdraw to your comfort lair.
And for so long, you could not sleep soundly.
Everything goes not truly normal after that week, you still go along with your "part-time" job while suffering from deadlines after you. But now your identity now has been exposed, news going on and on about you. Just you. Everywhere you go, eyes on you, whisper all around you,... You really don't like it, fame is not what you search for. You are just conscious of it like something you should do. (hah No Way Home)
When you discover your ability: you thought it just fixing things for the neighbour, get the cat down for an old lady, doing it just for fun...but world travels fast. You moved to NYC with a young heart looking for danger and experience. Things went not truly in your direction: you got fired from the job within 2 months, everything is expensive, got kick out of your apartment, very nearly to got jailed for 5 months, almost got kicked out of your school... you wanted to go back so badly, you feels homesick. But then after 3 years, you are still here, you don't know how you can deal with it. But you are satisfied with your life right now.
And now those were news killing you, your address like a police office: asking for free help,..., the FBI come up and asks you with the nonsense question, some of it nearly makes you want to throw your shoes at their faces or blow the whole station away. Not including a one-eyed man keeps eyes on you and "convinced" (more like threats you) to join his club. Weirdo.
Everything is just so fucking messed up.
You need more time to heal, but hilarious, the trouble like a magnet with NYC: in 2 months, you got into so much fight-but then also means: you have more chance to meet him. Whenever your gaze encounters his eyes, your body responses exactly like the first time you meet him, you wanted to talk with him so bad, but around him, your social skills drop. You can't help but slowly looking for his figure on every social media, news, some report from Stark's party,... You even know his run in the morning, the coffee shop that he likes to visit, his music taste. Despite that, you are still embarrassed to talk with him.
Eventually, you took enough encouragement to say hi to him after almost a year, not running anymore- Oh god, that day like your birthday come sooner. No, it's even prodigious: his smile just brightly, giving you endless compliments about your help, telling you about how he wants to talk with you too, how he saw you everywhere he goes, he even so you with the team and to your surprised, they kinda like you.
After that conversation, you two become more closer: longer conversation, few jokes and move to exchange number, some go out,... He even named you Starlight-after got you to join the Avengers successfully with a disbelieve of the one-eyed man. Extinguish all the exasperating social giving you. He makes you feel safe, feel like home. You noticed, how much you ran away...you always ran back to him, enjoy little things around him as much as you can. And he is too. He tells you about his past, his life.
He said your eyes are familiar and remain him of someone so much.
You did not care, as long you can feel him. That's alright.
You want to open about how you feel for him so much, but then...when you look at his. Something of him telling you: please don't.
Maybe just you are too nervous. You should try next time, there is still a lot of time.
When Bucky Barnes got into the team, the guy try to stab you before, break your left arm on the freeway ... everything unfolded:
Steve Rogers- loves Bucky Barnes: eyes gazing, he be more active than normal, always absent, especially his laugh-you never heard his laugh so pure, so comfortable.
Every single thing of it distract you so much, you could not focus on previous anymore. The team even held 2-3 meetings just to complain about how you lose track with the team.
"Keep your professionalism kid, you can not keep up with the team when you fall behind us. Where is your cocksure gone ?"
Bruce and Natasha back up you about the incident with Bucky-telling Tony how bad your injured was.
Steve as always: He advocates Bucky, saying about he was brain-washed, it was not him. Yes, you clearly understand it and regarding everyone should calm down a bit-
Then he sneered at you ( he doesn't mean it ? right) about how everyone let a kid like you joining the dangerous task, about you should focus on your study instead-even he was the one who convinced you to join the team.
And it's not anyone fault. You just want to help him... You stood up and ran away.
Still those oceans eyes-but all you can feel is cold, empty.
Keep your professionalism.
'It's not real'
Your time with him is slowly gone: asking him about milestones in your history homework even you know by heart when you were a kid, visited the museum or drink coffee.
Keep your professionalism.
'You still have a chance'
Whenever you are alone with him, Bucky will appear within 10s. Interrupted everything you had build up.
Keep your professionalism.
'They're just friends, he had lost his friend for so long'
But did "friend" kissing after everyone back? Friend being that close? Trying to stop you from approaching the other? Being cold-face towards to you?
You finished your school on a gloomy summer day, now you have two ways to go on: move on to college-far from here, get out of this oppressive atmosphere. OR. Becomes an office Avengers.
You made your way to your room, the room spinning around your head: dizzy, headache,...
You finally decided to go with your idea before: move on to college.
Take a deep breath, you text Fury about quitting your position.
"You sure you want to leave?" Fury voice reverberation in your room, echo on your head. His voice was a bit annoyed and peevish. How can he not be angry?
You chuckled and delicate explained how you still want to continue your learning with a lightly promise that you will come back as an official member for him.
Then you quickly end the call.
You drag your valise out of the town and take a last look at the town: half of your youth there, your home there.
"But you gonna regret it..." Then I will hurt myself more whenever I see him delighted with someone else
"He will miss you..." As a friend
"You could win him, you are his Starlight" Not anymore
"He loves everything you have, and your eyes"
But your eyes remain him of Bucky Barnes.
"He loves the way you fight, things you do"
It remains him of Bucky...
Everything is about Bucky
You need a new place, somewhere that is peaceful enough for your mental and your physical health.
Somewhere you can calm your heart before you can meet him again.
i hate myself yayayayaya, I'm crying so much about how I can't fuck Steve so I wrote this
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A/N: Written for the #SSB2021 @star-spangled-bingo challenge.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers
Warnings: Language. Smut. Mentions of violence. Angst.
Word Count: 1,026
Square Filled: Time Travel
A/N: Instead of having the characters time travel, I have you, the reader, "time travel." This is a glimpse "before the fall."
Summary: It was, ‘be careful’ and ‘I love you.’ It was, ‘‘til the end of the line.’ But it wasn’t goodbye…
Captain America – a man, a myth, a legend.
Steve Rogers – a sticky-fingered, daring punk.
Bucky Barnes was head-over-heels for the star-spangled persona and the mighty-good man, which was precisely why he never questioned the appearance of a chocolate bar, a pack of Lucky Strikes, or a highly-coveted, new pair of socks hidden in his gear. Steve had always been full of surprises, even before the serum, and seeing him situated behind the wheel of a commandeered Mercedes Benz?
It was more than a surprise – it was a literal wet dream – and Bucky couldn’t be bothered with trivial things like queries, consequences, or the January cold, for that matter.
Steve popped open the door and jutted his chin, “Wanna go for a ride, sweetheart?”
Bucky smirked and stubbed out his smoke, “Hell, yeah.”
Bright stars, gentle snowfall, and the pained cries of the injured either eased with morphine or drowned out by the rumbling engine and distant firefight. Base was only a ten-minute double-time march east, but being parked off the beaten path made it seem like the war and the upcoming mission in the Alps were a world and a lifetime away.
And yet, much like the car, the respite and the moment alone were both stolen.
“You gonna give me a kiss?” Steve wondered as he scooted closer.
“That depends,” Bucky murmured as he leaned in. “You gonna buy me dinner first?”
“How about a blow-job instead?”
“You’re such a romantic.”
Steve skipped the kiss. Nipped Bucky’s chin. Upped his low-timbered counter-offer and the ante by unzipping Bucky’s pants, and the follow-up combination of wet, slippery tongue and calloused fingertips was sinfully divine. Fluttered lashes and bedroom blue eyes and plush lips – Steve was a damn sight to behold, and Bucky wasn’t capable of looking away. His cock positively wept with desire, and as he fucked the tight-as-a-fist mouth and throat of Captain America in the front seat of a stolen car, he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest son-of-bitch on the planet.
“Shit, Steve,” Bucky groaned on the upstroke. “You’re gonna make me come, darlin’.”
He laughed and suckled from tip to base, “That’s the idea, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, but not this fast. And not in your mouth.”
Steve moaned and swallowed hard. Bucky gritted his teeth and leaked like a faucet. He let Steve have his way and his fun for as long as he could stand it, and when he grabbed a handful of blond hair and tugged forcefully, he was released with a sorrowful whine, and a loud, wet pop.
Without any pretense or additional, flirtatious preamble, they traded the buttery-soft leather of the front seat for the even larger one in the back. It was freezing outside, but the car was warm, and their ragged breaths only made it warmer.
Frost-covered windows. Eager hands. Kisses deeper and far more perilous than the trenches they’d dug and hunkered down in. A tin of coconut oil – yet another pilfered item, produced from Steve’s back pocket, and handled with the greatest of care.
From there, it was all a blur – the swift-and-dirty prep, the bombs falling ten klicks west, and the seat beneath Bucky’s ass vibrating with the force of the explosions. But the way Steve sank down – spine bowed, fever-hot, and slower and sweeter than molasses – brought everything into razor-sharp focus. They didn’t wade into it; didn’t have time to savor it; and hell, Bucky was so hungry for it – so fucking weak-willed and weak-kneed for this man – that Steve didn’t even need to move for his balls to draw up tight and his erection to kick, kick, kick like a damn showgirl.
Steve whimpered and tipped his head back, “You feel – fuck – you always feel so good inside’a me.”
“Yeah?” Bucky bit out. “How good?”
“Too good. Like I never had ya’ before…”
The torture, the impending raid, and the fear of never having each other again – it all went unspoken. Bucky wanted to reply with something pithy, something to lighten the mood, stave off his orgasm, and counteract the raw, unfiltered confession, but then, Steve made a noise in the back of his throat that went straight to Bucky’s dick, and that breathy, desperate little mewl – it swelled his heart, quieted his mind, and left absolutely no room for discussion.
The sound of squeaky leather, the scent of sex, the taste of sweat at the nape of Steve’s neck, and the sight of him righteously rearranging his own guts – it was erotically debauched and entirely too much to take. It didn’t make sense, how they were both able to last as long as they did, but Bucky knew just by the way Steve gulped air that he was close, and he helped his best guy along with a squeeze to his cock and a well-aimed counter-thrust directed right at his sweet spot.
Steve shouted. Punched the roof. Left a perfect imprint of his fist in the metal. When he shot off, he took Bucky along with him; brought him bellowing and shaking via an expertly and viciously executed grind-and-clench that left Bucky light-headed, reeling, and babbling like a fool.
Wartime, life-or-death lust, and a life-long, too-complicated-for-the-world love, trussed up in vow-like promises and secretly exchanged dog tags. The snow-covered windshield. The tender, post-coital moments. Their time together, always cut so brutally short for one reason or another, but at the moment, it was because all those uniformed averted eyes and deaf ears would turn into a well-armed search party if they didn’t get their asses back to their posts.
Steve sighed like he wanted to apologize, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked Bucky if he wanted to drive, and it was too good an offer to pass up. One hand on the wheel and the other intertwined with Steve’s. The closer they got to base, the harder Steve held on, and Bucky barely got the car parked before he was yanked into a bone-crushing hug and given a kiss that tasted a little like tears and a lot like passion.
It was, ‘be careful’ and ‘I love you.’
It was, ‘‘til the end of the line.’
But it wasn’t goodbye…
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i feel like i need to apologize to myself for the fanfics i read...
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Burnin' It Down
Steve Rogers x Spy!Reader
Summary: When you work as a spy for Tony Stark, you don't realize you'll have to make the biggest decision of them all.
Warning: reader hates bucky, mention of guns/knives, natasha is on steve's side in civil war, slight angst??,
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: This is my first official part of my 1k celebration! This one was sent in by @joossieisdabomb! I hope you enjoy this, I really appreciate the participation! As always, feel free to reblog + comment, it means the world to me!
"I feel like we need to go over the plan one more time, kid. You weren't even looking at me," Tony snaps, raising his eyebrows. You roll your eyes, applying an extra coat of lipstick to your puffy lips. "There's this thing called multitasking," You say, shooting him a playful smile.
Tony huffs, looking out over the empty hallway. "Sometimes I wonder why I ever agreed to let you be my partner," He mutters, straightening his tie. You drop your lipstick back down in your purse, smoothing your hands over your tight dress. "Because you owe my dad the biggest favor of them all," You remind him, linking your arm in his.
For as long as you can remember, your dad has been best friends with Tony Stark. Tony was always around at birthday parties, dance recitals, and even occasionally babysitting. You know Pepper probably tortured him to agree to that last one, but it's still the thought that counts.
You idolized Tony growing up. You wanted to be everything that he was. You wanted to be successful, rich, mysterious, and a little bit of a smartass. After your dad covered Tony's ass in Fury's office the last time, Tony agreed to do something in return for him.
He just didn't realize that something would be agreeing to let his goddaughter be a spy. As much as he hates it, he can't deny that you're the best there is. You look young and naive, nobody would ever suspect that you grew up battling grown men for practice. When it came to your safety, your dad and Tony made sure you were well-equipped.
Tony chuckles under his breath, reaching forward and placing his hand on the big door. You can already hear the exciting murmurs and laughter filling the room, causing your heart to race. No matter how many times you play this role, you still get nervous.
Tonight, you are at the latest Stark Convention. Tony will be proposing his newest idea to take down the Ultron Sentries. Naturally, this means that Steve Rogers will be there. This is where you step in.
There's only one thing in this world that Tony isn't good at, and that is listening. Tony listens for about .5 seconds before he's tuning you out, thinking about what his next move is going to be. While his plan for defeating the sub-ultrons is great, he's missing one essential piece of information:
What Steve's plan is.
Tony always says you can't go into war without knowing your enemy's plan of action. You often have to remind him that Captain America isn't the enemy, Ultron is.
Tony refuses to listen.
While everyone else will be drinking and having fun, you'll be acting as a spy, luring information out of Steve. You've helped Tony with plenty of stuff before, but nothing as big as this. Part of you hopes you're still interesting enough to turn Captain America's head.
"Ready, kid?" Tony asks, turning his head toward you. There's a softness in his voice that you don't hear often, one that tells you that he's worried about you. As much fun as you have doing your job, you can't deny that there's always a risk to it. Something could always go wrong.
"Ready," You say, giving him a quick nod. With that, Tony opens the doors, all heads turning to look your way. The crowd immediately starts clapping, the old men staring you down like a piece of meat. Everyone knows who you are, that's one challenge you face with your job. Most people assume you and Tony fell in love when you were a teenager, since he was around your family for so long.
Oddly enough, it makes the older men respect him even more.
Tony puts his big smile on his face, walking the both of you to the main stage. Tony unlinks your arms, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Go get 'em," He whispers, before turning to the stage. You watch him go up on stage, everyone's attention focused on him. You take this opportunity to go to the back of the room, your eyes focused on the open bar.
"I'll have a vodka cran, please," You order, flashing your white teeth at the bartenders. They obediently work to serve you, eager to please anybody close to Mr. Stark. You turn to face the room, your back against the bar. You slowly sip on your drink, your eyes searching the room for Captain America. It's a long shot that he'll come, but you can't see him passing down the chance to fight Tony.
Tony doesn't listen and Steve can't live without a war. What a perfect pair.
You gaze into the crowd, your eyebrows furrowing when you see a familiar redhead. When everything was normal, you remember laughing with the redhead, admiring her for the strength she had to get away from her past. Before you know it, the longing of friendship has your feet moving. It’s been so long since you’ve seen her, you have to say hi.
You push your way through the crowd, finally catching a glimpse of the dress she’s wearing. “Natasha,” You breathe, a giddy smile on your face. Her back is to you, but you can see the way her body tenses when she hears your voice.
She slowly turns, a slight smile on her red lips. “Y/n, I didn’t expect to see you here,” She lies. You know it’s a lie. Everyone knows that you never miss an opportunity to learn from Tony.
“I would say the same, but I know you’re never too far from Steve,” You halfheartedly tease. When you were younger, you couldn’t help but to have a crush on the one and only Captain America. You knew he’d never see you that way, he’d only ever see you as an annoying kid who follows Tony around.
Even though your friendship with Natasha was strong, you always envied the way Steve paid attention to her.
Natasha laughs quietly, turning her head back to the stage. You stand beside her, clutching your purse against your body. You’ve never had to use your tactics against a friend, it’s much harder than you thought it would be. “Come to see what the winning side has planned?”
Natasha snorts next to you, her eyes locked onto Tony. “Mm. Something like that,” She mutters.
You suddenly feel a presence behind you, a deep voice murmuring ‘excuse me, sorry’ to the bystanders. When the man pushes his way in front of you, you can feel your heart speed up.
Steve is dressed in his blue velvet suit, holding two glasses of whiskey. His blonde hair is still gorgeous as ever, but he’s grown his beard out. His blue eyes pierce you, making you wish you could shrink in size. “Y/n,” He mutters, his eyes locked onto yours.
As much as you want to look away, you stand your ground, your instincts to protect Tony stronger than ever now. How dare Steve betray him the way he did? The anger rises in your chest, as fiery as it was the day you found out that Steve had betrayed Tony. “Where’s the murderer?” You spit, watching the way Steve’s jaw clenches.
Natasha stares Steve down, as if to tell him to remain calm. Steve relaxes his jaw, a degrading smirk on his lips. “Not even trying to play nice, huh?”
You scoff, tightening your grip on your purse. You don’t remember him being so… so… Cocky. “Oh, please. Like you’d ever play nice,” You retort.
“Okay, I’m walking away. At least one of us needs to actually pay attention to Tony,” Natasha says, clearly fed up with the way her friends are arguing. Neither one of you acknowledge her as she walks away, too locked onto each other.
Steve offers you one of the glasses in his hands, raising an eyebrow. “I’m playing nice now, aren’t I?”
You stare hesitantly at the glass, weighing your options. You could walk away, ditching the plan to lure his plan out of him, disappointing Tony. Or you could calm down, and fake it until you’ve got enough information out of him. As much as you dislike Steve right now, you hate disappointing Tony even more.
Without a word, you take the drink, tossing it back in your mouth. The liquid is warm, burning your throat as it goes down. You keep eye contact as Steve drinks his, almost ensuring that he’s not tinkered with the drink. You place the glass down on the tall table next to you, smoothing your hands over your dress.
“Why did you come here?” You ask, your eyes following Steve as he leans against the table.
Steve runs his tongue over his lips, licking up any of the whiskey that had been left over. “Same reason you’re here,” He states.
You ignore the statement, looking up on the stage. Tony is in his closing statement now, meaning there’s approximately an hour left of this convention. Maybe more if you can convince Tony to stay around and drink.
“Thank you all for coming. I look forward to keep sharing my projects with you,” Tony says, turning his head toward you. He sees you standing next to Steve, causing him to flash a cocky smile your way. “And I look forward to winning.”
With that, the lights go down, music blaring out of the speakers. This is your chance; if you can dance with Steve, if you can press your body against his… Maybe you can get him to spill the beans on his plan.
You flash your charming smile, reaching out and placing your arm on his suit jacket. “Dance with me,” You say, licking your eyes onto his as the crowd disperses. Every woman hooks up with her man, swaying to the soft music, celebrating the potential end of the war between Avengers.
Steve raises his eyebrow, glancing down at your hand. He almost swears your touch is burning a hole through his jacket. “What do I get out of it?” He asks.
You smile at him, batting your eyes at him. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” You say. The open-ended possibilities have Steve's head spinning, desperate to whisk you away. For as long as he can remember, he's been aching for you. It's been so long without a woman by his side, he can't remember the last time he felt this way.
Steve inhales, standing up straight. He extends his arm, moving you away from the table. He pulls you to the center of the room, one arm hooking around your waist. His other hand clasps yours, pulling you close to his chest. "I'll dance with you on one condition," He starts, staring out into the crowd.
You nuzzle your head against his chest, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent. "And what's that?"
Steve's lower hand slips down to your ass, right under the curve of it. You feel him toy with the garter under your dress, chuckling under his breath. "Don't even think about using your Walther PPK on me," He murmurs, moving his hand back up to your waist. Shivers run down your back, the coolness of the gun strapped to your thigh pressing against you.
How does he know exactly what kind of gun you're carrying?
You move your hand from his shoulder to his chest, smoothing your hand over the suit jacket. "Only if you promise not to use your Gerber Mark II on me," You retort, hoping your guess is right. You can't feel the knife, but you know he has the same knife that Bucky Barnes uses.
Steve chuckles once more, moving your body to the music. The two of you dance in silence, neither one ready to make the first move. You both know what you came for, but what's the harm in a little fun?
"Why are you really here, y/n?" Steve asks, his voice low. You lift your head, meeting his eyes. You stick to your role, hoping Steve is dumb enough to fall for it.
You sigh, a frown on your lips. "Honestly... Because I want this to end. I'm sick of fighting. You guys are my family, I hate having to pick sides," You answer, watching as Steve brushes your hair away from your face. From a distance, you would look like any other couple here.
Steve nods, humming under his breath. He remembers how hard it was for you to pick Tony's side. Everyone thought you were an automatic shoo-in for Tony's side, given your relationship, but Steve's heard stories from Natasha about how you struggled.
Sometimes Steve would swear you only took Tony's side because of your loyalty.
Honestly, you're not lying. You are sick of the fighting. You take a deep breath, placing your head back on his chest. "I know Tony is never going to apologize, he's never going to admit that he might be wrong. Just like you'll never admit that there are faults to your plan,"
Steve freezes in his spot, moving his hands away from your body. You step away from him, staring him down. "You have no idea what my plan is," Steve mutters, shaking his head.
"Then tell me!" You interject, resisting the urge to stomp your foot like a toddler. "I want to help, but I can't help unless I know what's going on. If I know what your plan is, maybe I can work on getting Tony on your side," You try.
Steve continues shaking his head, his jaw tensing up. "You're unbelievable. You are so brainwashed by him that you don't even realize that he's using you. If he really cared about you, he wouldn't put you in danger," Steve says, turning to walk away.
You hurry up to his side, grabbing his arm. "That's the thing, Steve. He knows I'm not in danger with you. That must tell you something, right?" You urge, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You're no longer acting, you're speaking from the heart.
Tony knows Steve would never do anything to hurt you, that must mean he knows Steve is a good guy deep down.
Steve turns to face you again, his face inches away from yours. "It tells me that he's an even bigger idiot than I thought," He hisses. You stare blankly at him, a lump forming in your throat. What happened to Steve? This isn't the Steve you remember.
Steve swallows, staring back at you. "If you mean what you say, come with me. Let me show you what my plan is. Fight with me, dove,"
Steve's nickname for you when you were close. The nickname tugs at your heartstrings, reminding you of how good things used to be. Reminding you of how close the two of you had been.
How dare he use your nickname to manipulate you?
Steve steps closer to you, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. "I promise, I have no ulterior motives, y'n. I want you to be safe, truly safe," He says, his voice safe. You tear your eyes away from him, your eyes scanning his suit jacket.
Steve ducks his head down, his nose inches away from yours. "Fight with me... I miss you," He whispers. You inhale a sharp breath as you feel his breath on your face. It's the closest you've ever been to him, yet the furthest you've ever been.
How dare he make you pick between him and Tony? Tony has done so much for you... It's not fair. Just as you attempt to grab his knife, a loud crash echoes through the building. You both jerk your heads up, where the sound originated from.
Ultron and his sub-ultrons have crashed through the building, desperate for a war. You instinctively pull away from Steve, reaching for your gun. Your gun is nothing compared to Ultron, but it's the only thing you have. Steve reaches for your arm, his eyes wide.
"Y/n, you need to come with me. You don't stand a chance here," He urges. You desperately search the room for any sign of Tony, but you don't see him. Where is Tony? Is he okay? Did he leave you?
You look back at Steve, seeing Natasha standing at his side this time. Your heart breaks as you make your decision, knowing it would forever change things. If you go now, you'll never be offered this protection again.
But you can't leave Tony. He may be wrong, but he's still family.
Without a word, you turn around, running for your life. You push past the screaming people, searching for Tony. Tony is near the door, searching the room for you. As soon as he sees you, he exhales, reaching out for you.
"Let's get you out of here, kid,"
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oh i wanna give him a ride so bad 🤤
But can we talk about how Steve loves to see you ride him
Word count: drabble
Warnings: kinda NSFW thots below. Soooo mild. Also smut, begging kink, crying kink, overstimulation kink, marking kink and creampie kink. Hint o’ cockwarming. Mild ya’ll. No minors. 18+only.
A/N: Super early sinday drabble. Written on my phone, unbeta’d. As always don't copy, translate or repost my work. I love comments, likes and reblogs!!!
The feel of your snug pussy wrapped around him so damn tight makes his eyes wanna roll back in his head. That thought has distracted him all damn day because he can only think about how warm and slick and tight you are for him, always so fucking tight, and all he wants to do is bury his cock deep inside you and stay there.
Feel you clench and throb around him until you cum. Hear those breathy little moans in his ear, his name strangled on your tongue when you shatter.
You’re fucking distracting him, and you’re not even home yet. So when you finally stroll in the house looking so pretty and sweet, he strips you naked before your bag hits the floor. Steve knows he won’t make it to the bedroom, he barely makes it to the dining room, blindly grabbing a chair as he kisses you. Your sweet taste exploding on his tongue as he deepens the kiss. He pushes down his sweatpants as his lips slot over yours.
You straddle his thick hair covered thighs, grab his shoulders. An air of needy desperation passes between you. He has one large hand on your waist and the other gripping his cock and he’s saying a silent prayer that he doesn’t bust the second he slides into your warm wet pussy.
He glances down and fuck sweetheart, you’re dripping all over him, your slick coating the inside of your soft thighs, yeah he makes another silent prayer that you cum quick because he’s not going to last long.
He’ll tease you, tapping his cock on your clit until you’re crying, needing real friction on your bundle of nerves, but it’s only to hide how fucking desperate he is for you.
Hoping you don’t hear the tremble in his voice when he asks if you’re earned it, if you’ve been good enough because only good girls get his cock.
And the way you nod has his heart racing and his cock throbbing against his palms as he watches the tears streak down your pretty face, your glossy eyes focused on his lips as you beg him.
Cries of please Steve, please, you’ve been so good for him, please Sir is enough to set him off, unleashing his possessive nature. Because fuck you are his good girl, his-all his. You belong to him. It may be possessive and only fashioned, but he doesn’t care, he’ll mark every inch of your body because you belong to him and everyone needs to know it.
He takes his cock and pushes it through your silky folds until he finds your slit and fuck he can feel the way you’re pulsating and clenching down, your pussy needs to be stretched and filled by him.
His fingers dig into your waist, a bruising grip that’ll leave marks tomorrow, and he thrusts up, up, up into your tight wet heat. You both gasp as he pushes into your cunt, that first stretch always makes your stomach tighten, your walls fluttering around his swollen tip.
Any other time he would ease into you inch by inch, letting you adjust but Steve has to be inside you now, right fucking now he growls subconsciously as he pulls you down over his thick, long cock, he twitches in you, precum spilling out over your velvety walls as another gasp, so breathy, gravelly, and loud it’s almost a moan, rushes past his lips and you keen at the sound of him moaning because of you.
And damn, this is just what he needed.
He grabs your waist, his thumbs pressing into your belly and he cants his back, his hooded eyes drinking in you. “Show me how bad you want it, sweetheart.”
He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, fighting the urge to rail you senseless when you circle your hips, your tight walls sliding over his cock as you find your rhythm. Fuck, fuck, sweetheart mumbled under his breath, that’s my girl.
You clutch his broad shoulders and you snap your hips down, taking him deep in you, pleasure bursting in you, intense sultry heat building as you grind down, taking each veiny thick ridge inside you. It feels so incredible your mouth falls open in a wordless scream, you can’t take it but you can’t stop, you can’t, not with you getting closer to the edge of bliss, just a little more, you need a little more. Your hands slip over his sweat-slicked shoulder as you bounce on him, your nails rake down his muscular back.
Steve keeps his grip on your waist, telling you the filthiest things he’s going to do to your body if you come before he says you can. You don’t know how badly he wants you to disobey because he just needs a reason to ruin your tight little holes. Go on sweetheart, I dare you.
Before you can open your mouth to beg him to let you cum, his thumb is rolling over your clit, back and forth, over and over and you clench down so hard he can't pull out, your Please can I ends on a choked wail as you jerk in his hold, your orgasm slamming into you, powerful and abrupt, your toes curl and a searing white heat floods your body as you cum.
Steve grits his teeth, holding back his climax, he thought he wanted you to shatter quickly so he could fill you with his cum but with your pussy milking his cock and you chanting his name, he’s changed his mind.
He wants you to cum again.
He needs to feel your walls spasm around his cock as he splits you in two. He needs more than he needs his own release. And you're such a good girl that you're going to give him what he needs.
Before you can take a breath, he’s holding you in place and fucking up into your sensitive cunt. Oh god, oh god, you can’t but Steve assures you can and you will, his breathless laughter in your ear as he shifts his hips back. “You will, sweetheart.”
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sob into his shoulder as he hits something in you that has your back arching and you snap, a dull roar ringing in your ears as pleasure curls through your veins until you bite down on his salt-tinged skin with a broken cry.
Steve doesn’t stop even when you go limp, your hoarse grunts in response to his “just one more, there you go sweetheart, give me one more” as he fucks your swollen cunt driving him on until you can only whimper, your head lolling on his chest with each deep thrust.
Now, this, you cockdrunk and fucked senseless, this is what he needed. He grabs your ass grinding so deep his pelvis brushes over your clit and his ego implodes when he feels you spasm again."Thatta girl," kissed on your swollen lip.
The chair bowing and creaking under the force of his thrusts, his balls tightening as he finally lets himself go, ropes of hot cum filling your sore cunt, warmth spreading in your belly.
“Good girl,” groaned in your ears as frantic his pace slows to languid thrusts. “Did so good for me, ‘m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
He chuckles at your incoherent response, your eyes fluttering shut. Steve kisses your forehead, standing up, carrying you as if you weigh nothing, and walks into the living room, settling on the couch, adjusting your body over his, a possessive hand tapping your ass lightly as you sleep.
Steve smiles up at the ceiling, his mind finally at ease now that he has you where you belong.
And he contemplates your ‘punishment’ for coming without his permission.
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hello! welcome to my masterlist, a handful of the things written are from my old account of mine. this will be updated as much as i post ( hopefully ) thank you for taking your time to read any of these pieces and i hope you enjoy them as much as i enjoyed writing them!
fluff ❥ // angst ⁂ // nsfw ☾ // crack ☆ // n/a ❅
MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE
THINGS THE AVENGERS AREN’T ALLOWED TO DO
a series collaboration with @youlightmeupfinn
☆ part 1
☆ part 2
☆ part 3
☆ part 4
STEVE ROGERS ⍟
STUCKY x READER
we deserved better ⤿ series
❅ chapter 1
PETER PARKER 🕸
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ways writers can be inclusive 101
“my cheeks turned pink in embarrassment” → “my cheeks heated in embarrassment”
“his hand ran through my hair” → “his hand ran over my head/hair”
“her bright pink pussy” → literally anything else
stop using mood boards of only white couples/children (heavy on this one)
using children names like eveleigh ann (do i need to explain..)
her hair was put in a messy bun/her long silky hair...
Respectfully, I know it’s just fanfiction, but if you’re going to write reader insert fics then do the bare minimum of making sure it’s actually inclusive and not white coded. Many of us shouldn’t read an x reader fic and imagine a white woman every single time. Stop taking criticism from bipocs, saying your writing is not inclusive, as hate. Let go of the mindset that having a bipoc in your writing means they have to go through some racial struggle or you must talk about their culture (a lot of bipocs don’t know their culture/where they came from). It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable to write them in your stories, we’re normal people too. If it does maybe a reflection is meant to be had. Like i said, it’s just fanfiction and it’s supposed to be fun, but some of y’all are purposefully exclusive and still tag your writing wrong.
And if you can’t handle it, tag ur fic as an oc or white!reader. Because it’s not right for writers to attack people asking for inclusivity and playing victim bc they know they can.
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♡ 𝐙𝐄𝐄’𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ♡
please do not repost, translate, or steal my works. they are completely mine
my blog is 18+, so by following me and clicking read more you are telling me you are over the age of eighteen
disclaimer; older works are being edited to be more inclusive and may include language that is not vague descriptions which no longer reflects my writing style. i am growing as a writer and wish to be more inclusive, my newer works reflect this.
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Bucky Barnes Masterlist
➳ Headcanons Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Steve Rogers Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Natasha Romanoff Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ WinterWidow Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Loki Masterlist
➳ mischief wednesday masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Stucky Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Steve, Bucky, & Sam Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Thor Odinson Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Ransom Drysdale Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Andy Barber Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Chris Evans Masterlist
➳ Headcanons Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Tom Hiddleston Masterlist
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Misc. Masterlist
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learn to love
chapter 12 - heartbreaker
summary: steve and y/n don’t get along. now, they have to.
pairings: au!steve rogers x fem!reader
warnings: DRUNK DRIVING, alcohol, depressive feelings/episode, general angst
a/n: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE never drink and drive. it’s never worth it.
steve had a rough summer, to say the least. after wallowing in self pity for a few days, he fell into a routine. he did just enough to get by at work, then would release his tensions at the gym before going home and drinking whatever bottle of alcohol he had grabbed from the grocery store in a futile attempt to forget her. when he closed his eyes, all he saw was her. when he tossed and turned in bed at night, her smell lingered. he didn’t know where it wafted in from or if it was just a figment of his imagination, but he reveled in every moment of it. on the rare night that he was sober, he would take his motorcycle out for a ride through the city. the fresh air cleared his head.
almost three months after he had returned from the trip, he finally began to unpack his suitcase which had been thrown in the hallway closet. he began shoveling the clothing into a laundry hamper when he came across the shirt she had worn to sleep. he ran his fingertips over the faded graphic. he could taste their champagne laced kiss on his tongue. he closed his eyes and released a deep breath. he felt his cells tingling as he relived the moment; the feeling her waist under his hands, the smell of the blooming flowers and the aftermath of rain, the way the dim lighting caused her eyelashes to cast a shadow on her face.
“oh, y/n,” he whispered.
he had never gotten his heart broken, before. he had always been the heartbreaker. he had never felt pain akin to the one that he was experiencing. it was as though he had left a piece of him on the curb outside of her apartment with her and her belongings. why didn’t she want him? what was holding her back?
often enough, he wondered where he went wrong. the question bounced around his head when he would thumb through his camera roll, looking at pictures of her, when he would be on his commute to work, and when he was in the shower.
the scalding water thrummed against his back as he washed the shampoo out of his hair. the temperature was almost painful, but he didn’t notice. suddenly, he heard her laughter ringing around the house. he paused, making sure he was hearing correctly.
“y/n?” he called out. he strained as he searched for her voice. he was craving her. he turned the water off, trying to hear better. “y/n?” no reply. he stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped a towel around his hips. he threw open the bathroom door and stepped out into his apartment. “y/n?” he looked around and discovered that his tv was on. she was not there.
he sat down on the couch and switched the tv off with the remote. he put his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands for a moment. where did i go wrong? he thought.
that night, he drank more than he usually did. his foggy mind decided that he wanted to go out for a ride. he looked at himself in the mirror above his dresser. he didn’t know who was staring back at him. he had bulked up due to the hours at the gym. he shrugged on his leather jacket and a pair of shoes, tucked his helmet under his arm and went off to the parking garage.
the drive started off as smooth as it could be in his inebriated state. the roads were mostly empty, the faint sounds of traffic in the distance. the fresh air wasn’t clearing his thoughts. he felt like he was being suffocated. he switched gears and accelerated. then, he saw it out of the corner of his eye; a cat. it darted out in front of him. he slammed on the brakes and attempted to maneuver the motorcycle to skid to halt, but he lost control. it slid onto its side and out from under him. he rolled to absorb the impact and saw, just in time, the motorcycle hitting a pole.
he stood up, catching his breath and patting his stomach and his sides. he examined himself. there was not a scratch on him. he released a shaky breath and approached the motorcycle. on the other side of it, the cat sat. it meowed at steve.
he sat down on the curb and removed his helmet, scratching the back of his head. he couldn’t process what had just happened. he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone. the screen illuminated his face in a wash of blue light. he went to his recent calls, clicked on the contact on the top, and put his phone to his ear. he pressed his other hand against his thigh to keep it from shaking.
“hey, man. can you pick me up?”
sam came to steve’s rescue in his truck. they loaded the totaled motorcycle into his trunk and drove to sam’s place in silence. sam unlocked the front door and gestured for his friend to enter. “we’ll talk in the morning,” he told him.
he nodded while nudging his shoes off then headed for the couch. he draped his jacket over the arm and grabbed a throw pillow to clutch against his chest. he closed his eyes and when he fell asleep, he dreamt of y/n.
the following morning, sam woke steve up. the blond freshened up in the bathroom and returned to a cup of coffee. “what you did last night was unacceptable,” sam told him. “you could’ve gotten hurt or you could’ve died. what if there was a car? you could’ve killed somebody, steve.” the man stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter. “what’s going on with you?”
“i keep asking myself that,” steve answered. “i don’t know.”
“well, you have two options. go to rehab or i’ll file a police report. you can’t go on like this. you’ve been drinking heavily since you came back from bos-”
“i know,” steve cut him off. “you’re right, sam. it’s time for a change.”
and so steve took sam’s advice. he took a leave of absence from work and checked into rehab. he stayed there for two weeks and when he checked out, he felt more at peace with himself. his heart was still captivated by y/n, but his thoughts were no longer completely plagued by her. he would still lie awake at night thinking about her soft skin and the twinkle in her eyes right before she told a joke. most of the time, he was able to shake the thoughts off, turn onto his side, and fall fast asleep.
that is, until he saw her at sam’s house. the second he saw natasha enter his heart began racing. he didn’t see her but he could feel her heart calling out to his. he nervously greeted natasha and began fidgeting with a napkin. a minute later, she entered with sam, eyes trained on the ground. he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. she looked up, her eyes meeting his. the floodgates opened and all his feelings for her came rushing back.
@ssweet-empowerment ; @stardustandbucky ; @abuckyrogersworld ; @freightcarcap ; @c-a-v-a-l-r-y ; @coffeebooksandfandom ; @somethingmoreclever ; @2dreamcatcher8 ; @illegalportkey ; @fuckthatfeeling ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @tuliptx ; @wwhitewwolff ; @thisismysecrethappyplace ; @appreciating-chase-brody ; @maladaptive-ninja-returns ; @marvelrose ; @sophiealiice ; @galacticstxrdust ; @fitzsimmons-is-forever ; @dumblani ; @i-padfootblack-things ; @pinknerdpanda ; @marvelssluts ;
learn to love tags:
@youunravelme ; @cailin-lefantasy ; @clockworkherondale ; @clean-and-claire ; @denzmallows ; @ibxxmc-blog ; @itsallyscorner ; @brujademente ; @dusuncelidusuncesiz ; @complete-trash-101 ; @radical-gecko ; @liebestraume-e : @cruelsummer-s ; @myoneandongly ;
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Pairing: Andy Barber x Female!Reader x Ransom Drysdale x Steve Rogers
Word Count: 22,871 (oh my god, I’m SO SORRY)
Summary: Three of the most violent and notorious inmates at Steelridge Correctional Center escape, and they take you--the sweet, compassionate prison doctor--with them.
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Unprofessional doctor/patient feels. Violence. Death/murder. Reference to murder. Threats of non con and murder. Kidnapping. Gun, knife, and law enforcement baton/nightstick use. Non con. Dub con. Vaginal fingering. Gang bang. Unprotected sex. Rough/painful sex. Oral sex (f & m receiving). Cum eating. Hand job. Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Degradation. Spitting (just once for lube). Anal sex. DP. Overstimulation. Pussy slapping. Squirting. Beating/whipping with a belt. Sooo much angst. Suicidal thoughts & themes. Physical, emotional/mental, & sexual abuse. Gaslighting. Prison AU. Doctor!Reader. General AU for most of the fictional babes. Mean!Steve Rogers (I mean it, he’s awful). 18+ only!
A/N: Whew, okay omg I am SO EXCITED for this story aka my fic o’ ruin. It’s my super late final entry into my soft!dark challenge, and I’ve been chipping away at it for a while. It took me some time to figure out a scenario/AU that made sense for these characters to come together and cum together 😏but I think I pulled it off. Also, please take all of my medical, prison, criminal, and law stuff with a grain of salt, I’m not an expert lol. Enjoy! ❤️
🚨P.S. Please note this is a DARK FIC that contains lots of dark elements. Like. If you didn’t read all of the warnings above, please go back and do so right now. And do not proceed if you are not okay with any of these elements. Your media consumption is YOUR responsibility. Also please note that I do not in any way condone any of the dark actions or elements found in this story, this is a work of FICTION. Thank you! (Also please let me know if I missed any warnings.) 🚨
Prompts: This ask + There was only one bed + “Come on, just a little taste.” + Overstimulation/Squirting
You were updating the newest batch of patient records from this week’s annual inmate physical exams when you heard the quiet, distressed murmurs.
Pushing away from your desk, you made your way across the infirmary to the only patient you currently had under your care.
You knew that when you took this job as the physician at Steelridge Correctional Center, you were expected to maintain a certain level of disassociation from your patients--the inmates--to maintain protocol and keep yourself safe.
But bedside manner and compassion had always been two of your strongest traits--even before you were practicing medicine--and it was situations like Andy’s that pulled on your heart strings and made you truly sad.
Made you more willing to bend some of the rules so that you could show even the incarcerated kindness and dignity.
Because if anyone deserved kindness, it was Andy Barber.
His story was a tragic one, having lost both his wife and teenage son in a car accident caused by a drunk driver. And when the man got away with his crime scott free, Andy had killed him.
Murdered him with his bare hands in a fit of grief driven rage.
That should have made you terrified of him, but you weren’t, because Andy wasn’t like the other inmates in this prison.
He had been a good man, a respectable man, an ADA fighting the good fight before tragedy and grief had driven him to his breaking point.
You saw the soft kindness and respect in his gaze every time you interacted with him. You also saw the cloud of despair and loneliness. And you saw the genuine gratitude any time you bent the rules just a little and offered him what small acts of kindness and reprieve from his harsh circumstances that you could.
A lingering soft touch, a longer stay in the infirmary to keep him out of the cell block, sneaking him a homemade baked good when the attending guard wasn’t looking, loaning him your own books once he had read through the pathetic collection housed in the prison library.
Another quiet noise of distress pulled you from your musings, and you stepped behind the privacy curtain pulled around Andy’s bed to check on him.
He was two days into his stay in the infirmary for treatment for the flu, the sickness having hit him so hard that he had to be wheeled to the infirmary on a stretcher because he had been too dehydrated and weak to walk.
He was still asleep, his handsome face paler than usual and covered in a sheen of sweat as he tossed and turned as much as he could with his right wrist handcuffed to the bed rail.
You made a soft noise of comfort as you brushed some of the dark messy hair from his forehead, reaching for the washcloth and bowl of water at his bedside. You wet the cloth and wrung it out before gently mopping Andy’s face and seeing the furrow between his brows slightly ease.
And then he was jolting awake with a sharp inhale, his eyes shooting open, bleary and blinking rapidly, as you set the washcloth aside.
“Doc?” Andy’s voice was raspy from sleep as he blinked you into focus, sagging back against the bed once he realized where he was.
“Are you okay?” you asked, eyes shining with worry. “Looked like you were having a nightmare.”
“Wanna talk about it?” you whispered, reaching for the plastic cup of water with a straw sticking out of it before bringing it to Andy’s lips.
He drank slowly, his plump lips chapped but still occupying your gaze longer than they should have once he was finished and you set the drink aside.
Andy shook his head. “I can’t.” His eyes were haunted and had your heart aching for him before he dropped his gaze.
Your touch was gentle as you pressed the back of your hand to Andy’s forehead, testing for fever and feeling his skin still burning up.
“It was probably a fever dream,” you said, your hand having a mind of its own as your knuckles drew a gentle caress down Andy’s cheek.
His eyes jumped back to yours, sparkling with a mixture of confusion and desperation. The pain and grief was so pronounced in his gaze that it had you swallowing around a lump in your throat.
Glancing up to make sure the curtain was pulled as far as you thought it was and blocking you from the view of the attending guard out in the hallway, you gently cupped Andy’s face as your gaze returned to him.
He swallowed as he watched you, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your cool, soft touch. His breath caught at the maintained contact, and there was no question in your mind that he was painfully touch starved, like so many others in this godforsaken place.
You allowed your touch to linger, trying to give Andy some small modicum of relief, just a bit of genuine human connection as your thumb grazed against the apple of his cheek, mapping the faint freckles on his skin.
You stood that way for a long moment, granting Andy a kind touch and some comfort on the other side of whatever horror show his subconscious had worked up for him, and you knew his mind had plenty of material to pull from.
“I’m going to let your guard know I’m keeping you for another day or two since your fever still hasn’t broken,” you told him, slowly pulling your hand from his face.
You turned to go but froze as Andy’s free hand caught yours.
You’d been grabbed by other inmates before, and usually it was terror that had your heart skipping a beat in your chest in response…
But right now? Here with Andy? Under his touch?
It wasn’t terror that had your face warming and your breath catching as he turned his palm against yours, until he could lace your fingers together and give your hand a soft squeeze.
It was something else entirely.
When Andy’s gaze lifted to yours, his blue eyes were filled with so much yearning you felt your own eyes burn with tears.
“Thank you,” he whispered, gently pulling his fingers from yours and giving your knuckles a final, lingering brush of his thumb before releasing your hand.
Trying to ignore the way your tummy was fluttering, you nodded, mustering up a small smile for Andy before leaving him to rest as you made your way to the guard outside of the infirmary.
The only time you really resisted your natural inclination of caring and nurturing others was when you had to wear that mask of aloof professionalism while treating the inmates that scared you.
Inmates like Steve Rogers.
A former army captain, Steve was a hulking mountain of a man who had violently killed three men outside of a bar after they had jumped his best friend and fellow army vet.
He looked like some kind of intimidating lumberjack with his long, dark blonde hair and the well trimmed beard that shadowed the perfect angles of his face as he lounged back on the treatment table and watched you stitch up the stab wound at the side of his toned abdomen.
Steve didn’t talk much, at least he hadn’t the few times you had treated him during your short tenure at Steelridge, but he didn’t need to speak to make you want to rush through your time with him.
Just the unblinking, dark stare of his eyes--always fixed on you any time your gaze flickered to his--was enough to have your skin crawling in apprehensive awareness.
Unlike many of the other inmates, Steve had never said or done anything lewd to you, but you just knew he was undressing you with his eyes every time he was in your presence.
When you glanced up from the latest perfect stitch you had carefully mended into his skin to find his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he eyed the gap forming at the top of your blouse as you leaned over to tend to his wound, you couldn’t help but shiver.
You jumped as Steve’s eyes snapped up to yours without warning, freezing like a deer in headlights--feeling like you really were in danger--as you fell into the deep, dark well of lust shadowing his gaze.
He licked his lips slowly as you watched him, and at the nearly imperceptible sound of your breath hitching in your chest, he did something you had never seen him do before.
The curl of his plush pink lips was slow to unravel, until wicked amusement colored his features as his dark eyes bored into yours.
It wasn’t until a quiet, gravelly chuckle shook through his chest that you jerked back into action, feeling your face flood with warmth, your fingers trembling as you hurried to finish Steve’s stitches, uncomfortably aware of his heavy, insistent stare fixed on you the entire time.
For as quiet as Steve Rogers was, Ransom Drysdale was the complete opposite.
And for a guy who was serving a life-time sentence for murdering his grandfather and his grandfather’s housekeeper, Ransom was always in a good mood whenever you saw him.
Even now, as you treated his bruised ribs from getting into another fight in the commissary.
Not that you blamed his fellow inmates, as you often found yourself wanting to do bodily harm to Ransom Drysdale, too.
Slap that smug smirk right off of his annoyingly handsome face.
Especially when it was the type of encounter with him where he did nothing but drop one disgusting innuendo or sexual advance after another.
You leaned closer than you would have preferred as you pressed the stethoscope to Ransom’s broad, naked chest, trying to hear if his airway was compromised in any way due to his injured ribs.
“You’ve got pretty hands, doc,” Ransom slithered, touching his tongue to his teeth as he gazed down at your hands. “Small and soft. Can’t help but imagine how good they’d look wrapped around my cock.”
Despite the warmth of humiliation heating your cheeks, you kept your features neutral as you moved the stethoscope slightly and focused on listening to Ransom’s breath.
“Breathe in slow and deep for me, please,” you told him, completely ignoring his prior comment.
“Please,” Ransom mimicked. “So polite. Bet you’d thank me for pounding that uptight pussy until you were crying for me.”
You sighed your irritation, your hand retreating from Ransom’s bare chest, but then his free hand--the one not handcuffed to the bed rail--was grabbing your wrist and yanking you close.
Gasping as you stumbled against Ransom, the soft musk of him filling your nose, you stared into his glittering eyes in trepidation. “Let go of me.”
“You know how long it’s been since I’ve buried myself in a tight, wet cunt?” he murmured, touching his nose to yours and humming at your choked gasp. “I know you’d make the prettiest sounds for me, kitten.”
He shifted closer, holding you tighter so you couldn’t move away, his fingers pressing into your delicate wrist so hard you couldn’t stifle a quiet whimper of pain.
“Come on, just a little taste,” Ransom murmured, his lips nearly brushing against yours and causing you to jerk away.
You tried to yank your hand from his grip, but when he wouldn’t let go, you dug your fingers into his bruised ribs.
“Fuck!” Ransom hissed in pain, finally releasing you as he hunched over, protectively curling his free arm around his torso.
You scrambled away from him, pressing a hand to your chest like it would quell the frantic beating of your heart. Your eyes were wide and frightened as Ransom slowly lifted his head, his face curled into a sneer as he glared daggers at you.
“You little bitch, you’ll pay for that.”
“Guard!” you called, your voice trembling as you got one last look at Ransom’s lethal stare before you turned your back on him.
You asked the guard to take him away, overtly aware of Ransom’s gaze on you the entire time. You didn’t wait for his departure to push out into the hallway and fumble with your employee badge, hurrying through all of the security checkpoints in the hallway.
Using your badge to buzz through the closest exit, you darted outside, sagging against the brick building as you held a hand to your chest. You shakily inhaled the cool, fresh air of Northwest Massachusetts as you willed your heart rate to return to normal and your trembling to subside.
“And how did this happen?” you asked Andy as you finished stitching up the small cut over his eye.
His lips quirked. “Wouldn’t give up my pudding cup at lunch. It’s the little things, you know?”
“Jesus, Andy,” you laughed quietly, shaking your head as you pushed away the cart of medical instruments and tugged off your rubber gloves.
Andy’s voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him when he said, “Love the sound of my name on your lips.”
You froze, wide gaze shooting to him to find Andy watching you with a soft smile and an even softer look in his eyes.
Sometimes you really wished you had never met Andy Barber.
At least not here, of all places.
Because the more you got to know him, the more you liked him.
More than liked him.
He was quietly funny and wickedly smart. He was so kind and gentle with you. And he was honestly one of the most beautiful people you had ever seen up close.
But he was also a convicted killer serving a lifetime sentence for brutally murdering another person.
The devastation must have shown on your face, because Andy’s smile fell as he ducked his head and muttered, “Sorry.”
“No!” You hurried to assure him, your gaze flickering to check the curtain was pulled around the bed before you reached for his hand. “It’s fine.”
“I’m not trying to be a creep or anything,” Andy told you, eyes hesitantly lifting to yours. “I just...like you so much. You make me remember what life was like before all this.” His voice faltered for a moment, his sad eyes shining as he watched you. “You make me happy.”
It was instant, the way your vision blurred with tears, your grip on Andy’s hand tightening as you felt emotions rising in you quickly. “Andy, I--”
Your words were cut off by the sudden, piercing wail of a siren, and you jumped, wide eyes meeting Andy’s briefly before you were moving to yank the curtain open.
Out in the hallway, you could see the insistent flash of red from the emergency light set over the security checkpoint just down the hall. The guard who had brought Andy to the infirmary was nowhere in sight, and you took a step toward the door, intending to go find him to see what was going on, but Andy grabbed your wrist and tugged you back toward him.
“Don’t go out there, doc.”
You turned to him with furrowed brows. “But what if they need me?”
“It’s a lockdown,” Andy shook his head. “Probably a riot again, you never know how those will shake out. You’re safer in here.”
Your words were cut off as Andy’s attending guard burst through the infirmary door, one hand clutching his stomach, blood coating his fingers, as he fumbled with the lock on the door before turning to you.
“They’re...in the hallway,” he wheezed, eyes glittering with terror before he was reaching for you.
You hurried to cushion his fall, grunting under the guard’s weight as you tried to ease him to the floor as gently as possible.
Everything was happening so quickly--the deafening alarm making it hard to think--and the guard bled out so fast you didn’t even have time to grab the proper medical equipment to try and help him. Your fingers shook as you checked the pulse in his neck for a final time before you were sagging back on your heels, tears blurring your vision.
Andy murmured your name, and it was his use of your given name for the first time ever that had you jerking to awareness and glancing at him over your shoulder.
But Andy wasn’t looking at you, he was staring at the plate glass windows of the infirmary and out into the hallway.
Where a few wild, raucous inmates were beginning to gather.
Some of the most violent and infamous killers in the world.
“Doctor, doctor!” Robert Pronge hooted, banging his big fists on the infirmary windows and making you jump. “Need some of your one on one treatment, kitty cat. Got a case of the blues that only a hot, wet cunt can cure.”
Andy said your name again, more urgently this time.
Your terrified gaze flew back to him.
“Get the keyring on his belt,” Andy told you, gesturing to the dead guard. “I need you to get this off of me” He held up his cuffed hand, his gaze flickering to the locked door of the infirmary as the other prisoners twisted the knob and threw themselves against the door. “Hurry!”
Your fingers reached for the key ring at the tone of urgency in Andy’s voice, but then you paused, fingers shaking as you glanced back at him. “But...I shouldn’t.”
Andy’s smile was sad. “I just want to protect you, honey, and I can’t do that if I’m locked up like this.”
You realized you were crying as you watched him, torn, but then the sound of shattering glass had you shrieking as the inmates in the hall busted through one of the windows, their big, meaty arms reaching through the metal bars that still kept them outside as their irritation grew louder.
Their threats more violent and horrific.
“Gonna tear up that ass of yours, doc,” Bryce Langley jeered, his eyes so dark they looked black--possessed--as he rubbed at the growing tent in the front of his orange jumpsuit. “Stuff you full of my cum and drink it out of your asshole myself.”
Shuddering hard as disgust rippled through you, you yanked the keyring from the guard’s belt and staggered to your feet. You gave Andy a brief look of uncertainty before you were unlocking the handcuff from around his wrist and setting him free.
“Thank you,” he murmured, big hands giving your arms a brief squeeze before he was rushing across the infirmary and shoving the bookshelf and file cabinets in front of the door to buy you more time.
“Aw, come on, Barber, don’t play keepaway,” Robert snarled at him. “There’s plenty of her to go around. We’ll even let you have the first go at her.”
“Fuck off,” Andy snapped.
It was the first time you had ever seen his face twisted with anger, and you took a step back as he turned to you, his body tense and his chest heaving as he quickly glanced around the infirmary. He looked up, his eyes lingering, and then he was pulling your heavy metal desk away from the wall.
Turning toward you, he held out a hand, but you took a startled step away from him at the lingering fury furrowing his brow.
At your terrified look, Andy’s face immediately softened and he gave you a small smile. “Come on, doc.” He waved you closer before climbing up onto your desk and prying open the grate leading to the air duct above and tossing it aside with a loud clatter. “Gonna get you out of here, keep you safe.”
As Andy extended a hand to you, you hesitated. “Why?” you asked, startling as the inmates in the hallway broke through another window.
Andy stared at you, his eyes determined as he crouched atop the desk to bring himself closer to your level. “You know why.”
His quiet murmur--his veiled confession--along with the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his gaze as he watched you had your breath catching as you stared at him.
It also had the last of your faulty rule follower armor crumbling away as you felt all of the feelings that you knew you shouldn't have for Andy flood through you, to the surface, and with them came a deep, unearned sense of trust that had you sliding your hand into his and allowing Andy to pull you up onto the desk beside him.
Range of motion was a challenge in your fitted skirt, blouse, and heels, but Andy easily lifted you up until you could heft yourself the rest of the way into the air vent. You scrambled to make room for him, unable to stop yourself from staring at the way his arm muscles popped and flexed as he effortlessly pulled himself up into the small space beside you.
It was close quarters in the vent, and despite the urgency to get away from the violent offenders closing in on you below, you were frozen. All too aware and mesmerized by the way Andy’s big body was pressed up right against yours in the small space, his eyes flickering down to your parted lips as you breathed in the same air.
It was the sound of the third and final window shattering below that had you both startling back to reality.
“Come on, let’s see if we can find an empty hallway and get you to an exit,” Andy said, leading the way as you hurriedly crawled further and further away from the infirmary.
“How long do you think this will last?” you panted, your body already screaming it’s protest and prickling with sweat as you army crawled in the small space.
“No idea,” Andy replied. “Depends on how bad it is, but if they’re making it through the hallways and past security checkpoints…”
His words faded away but lingered heavily.
It was no secret Steelridge was severely overpopulated, and with some of the most violent, malevolent criminals in the world.
“And this far out, it’ll take the prison a while to get any kind of reinforcements here,” Andy muttered ahead of you.
You fought against the terror crawling it’s way up your chest and tried to focus on the present moment and the solitary task of getting to safety.
After a while, Andy paused and you could just make out light up ahead as he glanced down through the steel slats of another metal grate.
“This hall looks clear,” he whispered to you. “And we should be right around the north side exit. You know that backs up to that old guard tower they’re gonna demolish soon to expand the prison?”
Andy worked at the grate until he was pulling it up into the vent and setting it aside. “I’ll go first. Don’t show yourself unless I tell you it’s safe, and if it’s not, keep going and hide until the sirens stop.”
And then he was dropping himself through the opening before you could respond. You heard the quiet impact of his feet hitting the linoleum floor below.
Your heart was slamming against your rib cage as you waited for what felt like forever but was probably just a few seconds, and then Andy’s voice was calling out to you from below.
“Come on, doc. Hurry!”
You crawled to the opening, until your face was peeking over the edge. You swallowed nervously at the distance to drop. You were smaller than Andy and it was a longer descent for you.
“Come on,” he urged, hands extended to you. “Feet out first, ease yourself down, and I’ll catch you.”
You opened your mouth, a mortifying chirp of fear falling from your lips before you trembled, “But--”
Andy startled, glancing over his shoulder and listening intently. “I think they’re coming, we don’t have time.” His gaze was frantic as it returned to you. He said your name softly, reaching for you. “Trust me.”
“I do,” you whispered without thinking, and then you were hustling into motion and shimmying yourself out of the air duct. You cried out as your grip slipped and you fell, but it was a short drop before Andy was catching you.
You oofed quietly as his strong arms held you against him--chest to chest--before he was slowly sliding you down his body until your feet touched the floor.
Your heart was jackhammering again, but this time it wasn’t from fear.
It was from the way Andy was looking at you--like you were his everything--and the way his arms felt like home as he held you close.
And then the sweet little bubble you two were in burst as Robert Pronge’s voice sounded from the other end of the hallway.
“I always did like the chase, kitty cat,” he called to you, no longer surrounded by his companions. He was sporting a black baton that you usually only saw the prison guards carrying, tossing it from hand to hand as he slowly sauntered closer.
“Go,” Andy murmured, stepping in front of you and ushering you behind him, toward the exit that lay a few yards away. “Run.”
You didn’t need to be told twice, rushing toward the door and yanking the retractable employee badge from the clip hanging from the band of your skirt. You hesitated to use it, sweat beading on your brow as you glanced up at Andy’s broad back, the way his arms were spread like he was trying to shield you.
Your gaze flickered beyond the small window of the door and out into the barren and long forgotten backyard of the prison that no one ever used, and beyond that to the dilapidated guard tower sitting on the very edge of the property.
It was one thing to grant Andy gentle touches and preferential treatment.
It was another to take him outside, unsupervised.
This wasn’t just bending the rules or against protocol, it was illegal.
And as the alarm blared loud and unyielding, and the red light flashed overhead of the door, you struggled to make a decision, to know what was right in this moment.
Because you thought Andy Barber was a good man but you knew that he was a murderer.
You felt the rise of conflicting feelings and frenzied logic overwhelm you, the foundation of terror still thick and present and making more tears fill your eyes as Andy turned to you.
His face was twisted in confusion as you just stared at him, unmoving, and then you saw him go rigid before your eyes, slowly looking over his shoulder as the noise down the hall intensified.
You peeked around him, blood freezing in your veins as you watched a few more inmates join Pronge. There were over half a dozen of them now, bodies big and broad and easily filling the hallway as they purposefully took their time closing in on you.
Like it was a game.
Like they were having fun.
And you knew that they were, your eyes big and wide with fear as you struggled to swallow around the sudden dryness in your throat.
Andy filled your vision, his hands grabbing you and propelling you toward the exit. “Go!”
You gripped your employee badge for dear life as he pressed you against the heavy metal door. “I-I can’t let you out, Andy.” You realized quite suddenly that you were crying again, tears streaming down your face as you stared up at him in devastation. “I can’t.”
“Hey, listen to me,” he murmured, ducking close and gently framing your face with his hands. “It’s okay, honey. Go, and I’ll make sure no one follows you.”
Another hoot and threat of violence from Pronge had you curling your fingers into Andy’s bare forearms, feeling the warm skin and muscles flex beneath your touch.
“They’ll kill you,” you trembled, clutching him tighter. “For helping me. For letting me get away.”
Andy’s smile was a beautiful, tragic thing as he gently swept his thumb along the apple of your cheek. “As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters to me.”
And then he was grunting as he was attacked from behind.
You screamed as Andy twisted in Pronge’s hold, grappling with the other man as fellow inmates lounged and watched from a few yards away.
Like it was a show for their entertainment.
You realized it was as you watched in horror as Pronge fit the black nightstick beneath Andy’s chin and started strangling him with it.
“No!” you screamed, swaying closer, eyes darting around frantically to try and find a makeshift weapon.
“Don’t worry, doc, just working up an appetite first,” Pronge drawled, making a lewd gesture at you with his tongue that had your stomach churning with disgust. “Then I’m gonna tear apart that sweet pussy of yours until you’re begging me for death.”
Andy snarled at Pronge’s words, twisting and moving so quickly--so violently--that you almost couldn’t process what you were seeing as he wrenched the baton from Pronge’s hands, took a mighty swing, and cracked the other man in the side of the head.
The sound of impact was sickening, and you felt the burn of bile at the back of your throat as Pronge’s blood splattered against the white wall before his body dropped to the floor, unmoving.
For a moment, everything was quiet and still, save Andy’s heavy breathing.
And then all hell broke loose, the other inmates roaring their ire and hurtling toward you, all at once.
This time you didn’t hesitate as you swiped your badge against the locking mechanism of the exit, grabbed Andy’s wrist, and yanked him outside with you.
You both frantically pushed the heavy door closed, and you heaved a shaky sigh of relief when it clicked shut--and locked--the little light on the outside card swipe mechanism flickering green.
You jumped as Bryce Langley slammed his fists against the door, his face twisted in rage and spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed awful threats at you.
“Come on,” Andy said, tossing the nightstick aside in the overgrown grass before grabbing your hand and tugging you away from the exit and the eyes of the incensed inmates on the other side of the door.
Your head felt like it was filled with cotton, the world around you fuzzy and surreal, as Andy jogged you across the backyard and toward the abandoned guard’s tower.
It was almost like you blacked out, because one minute you were standing outside of the old building with him and the next you were inside it, surrounded by shadows and small spills of sunlight streaming in from outside between the poorly boarded up windows. The fall chill in the air made you shiver as Andy finally pulled you to a standstill.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, hands gripping your arms. He frowned. “You’re shaking.” Andy caught your chin between his fingers, ducking his gaze to yours.
It was the warm, soft drag of his palm against your cheek that brought you back to awareness, and you blinked at him, unleashing more tears down your cheeks as you sagged against him, fingers desperately curling into the stiff orange fabric of his jumpsuit as you sobbed.
“That was s-so scary,” you cried, burying your face against Andy’s chest. “I thought we were going to die.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Andy murmured quietly. There was no hesitation from him as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tight, his hands smoothing up and down your back. “You’re okay, honey.”
You shuddered as Andy’s hand cradled your head, gathering yourself and sniffling quietly as you finally straightened against him and shyly met his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
His smile was a sweet curl of his lips, his gaze tender as he cupped your cheek. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
Sliding your hand atop his, you leaned further into Andy’s touch, feeling the pit of dread in your stomach that had been there since those sires first sounded slowly starting to fade.
“Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered.
Andy’s smile dimmed a little, and he remained quiet, instead caressing your face with his fingers, his eyes glinting with a sudden desperate kind of need as he swayed closer to you.
“I would do anything for you,” Andy hummed, his words quiet but intense and making your belly flutter even as your hair stood on end.
It was hypnotic, the soft darkness in his gaze as he slowly dipped his face closer to yours. You knew his destination in the way his eyes flickered down to your lips, and still you didn’t stop him--didn’t object--as Andy closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours.
His kiss was electrifying, the first touch of his mouth to yours rocking your body with a shiver of awareness that propelled you flush against his chest. Andy groaned as he swept you closer in the circle of his arms, his head tilting and tongue questing until he was deepening the kiss and exploring the hot cavern of your mouth for the first time.
A desperate little whine escaped you as Andy’s tongue swirled with yours, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he moaned at the taste of you, the way you were arching against him and finally, finally pressing your sweet, tempting body where it belonged.
“Well you don’t waste any time, do you, Barber?”
You went still at the sound of Ransom Drysdale’s voice, tearing your lips from Andy’s to look over and find not one, but two additional inmates watching you with dark intent.
This time it wasn’t awareness that zipped up your spine, but stone cold dread as you glanced between Ransom and Steve Rogers.
You couldn’t help but take a frightened step back, retreating but keeping your movements slow as your mind struggled to comprehend what was happening.
Soon Steve and Ransom joined Andy, stepping up on either side of him as all three men watched you with varying looks of want.
“W-what is happening?” your voice was a quiet, trembling thing, your tearful gaze finally landing on Andy.
But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor as his fists curled at his sides.
“Hotshot lawyer here offered you up as a bargaining chip,” Ransom smirked, slapping a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “So he could get in on our little prison break.”
The shake of your head was immediate, the disbelief rippling through you as you pressed trembling fingers to your lips to stifle your sob. “He wouldn’t.”
“He did,” Steve hummed, licking his lips as his eyes wandered over you. “I strategized everything, Drysdale has the money and resources keeping us afloat on the outside as we lay low for a while, and Barber brought the entertainment.” You startled as his dark gaze shot to yours, a wicked smile curling his lips as he said, “You.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” you quavered, desperately wanting to believe your own words, but the longer Andy purposefully avoided your gaze, the harder it was to do so.
“Not only did he do it, but it was his idea,” Ransom said, a gleeful tone to his voice as you couldn’t quite stifle the small sound of devastation that spilled from the back of your throat. “Why do you think he was the one in the infirmary with you when we started the riot? He knew you’d never go with one of us, even if we protected you once shit went down, but you would go with him. And you did, just like he said you would.”
You actually felt it, your heart breaking as you stared at Andy in despair, your chest feeling suddenly hollow as the weight of his betrayal sank in, settled dark and heavy in the pit of your stomach.
And then Steve took a slow step forward--toward you--and you had enough self-preservation instincts, despite your head-spinning shock, to dart backward and away from him. Your back hit the wall and punched the air from your lungs as you whimpered Andy’s name, eyes desperate as you looked to him to help you despite his treachery.
His eyes met yours and they were miserable and shadowed with guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he said, wincing at the look of betrayal on your face.
Steve stepped into your eyeline, filling your vision as he crowded you against the wall and smirked at the muffled squeak of distress that fell from your lips as his massive hand curled around your throat.
“You’re lucky that we need to get moving, doc,” he murmured. His fingers twitched against your delicate neck, his heated gaze watching the quiver of your bottom lip. “Gotta get far away from here while everyone’s still distracted by the riot.”
But he didn’t move away, instead Steve dropped his forehead to yours, his hand wandering down your front, making a detour to grope your breast. His lips curled at your pained cry, his touch falling lower until he was bunching up your skirt and shoving his hand between your thighs.
“No, please!” You gasped as his hand cupped your heat, his fingers pressing hard and rough against your panties, until he could feel your warm folds against his fingers through the thin fabric.
“Fuck, it’s been so long,” Steve grunted, nuzzling along your cheek, his fingers rubbing harder against your cunt, until he could feel your panties growing damp without your permission. “There you go, look at you, you like it already.”
“No,” you sobbed, shaking your head, fingers trembling as you tried to push him away from you.
It was like shoving at a brick wall.
Steve’s touch didn’t relent until his fingers were wet with your slick, and only then did he pull his hand from between your legs, tipping your face up to his with his free hand and making you watch as he brought his shining fingers to his mouth and sucked your juices from his skin with an obscene groan.
“Fuck, we’re gonna have fun with you,” he rumbled.
“Not if we get caught, so let’s fucking go,” Ransom huffed, but his eyes were just as dark as Steve’s as he gazed at you with a type of violent yearning that had you hurrying to tug your skirt back into place.
Sighing, Steve grabbed you by the arm, dragging you away from the wall and roughly shoving you into Andy. “Your bargaining chip, your responsibility,” he told the other man before striding deeper into the dark, rundown building. “The entrance to the underground tunnels is this way, let’s move.”
Still shaking, your mind a mess of fear and disbelief--of hurt and betrayal--you could only stumble along beside Andy as he took your hand and led you further into the building, and further away from your life as you knew it.
You weren’t sure how long you walked the dark, dank underground tunnels with the three convicts, but it was long enough that your feet were aching in your heels as the darkness before you began to recede, distant light chasing the shadows from your surroundings.
Before long you were trailing Steve and Ransom out of what looked like a large drainage shallow, Andy attentively helping you onto more solid ground before leading you up and away from the trickling creek and onto higher land.
You shivered as you found yourself in the middle of dense woods, vaguely remembering how the prison was fairly close to a national forest, and feeling your stomach sink at the realization that it was unlikely you would be found anytime soon.
Especially if the riot was still in progress back at the jail.
“Let’s go,” Steve commanded, digging what looked like an old compass from his pocket and leading the way through the trees and undergrowth.
You hugged yourself tightly, painfully cold out here in the middle of the New England forest in autumn without any sort of coat or layers to keep you warm. You stiffened as Andy wrapped an arm around you and tugged you close, hand rubbing along your arm to try and warm you up.
Shoving away from him roughly, you avoided his gaze as you muttered, “I’d rather freeze to death.”
“Someone’s in the dog house,” Ransom snickered at Andy, giving your ass a harsh smack and squeeze that had you yipping as he stepped around you to follow behind Steve.
Andy murmured your name as he stepped up beside you, easily keeping pace with the way you stumbled through the leaves and tree roots in your impractical heels. “I’m so sorry, honey--”
“Don’t call me that,” you tried to snap at him, but your voice broke, tears brimming as you tried like hell to blink them back. “You promised to keep me safe.” Your breath caught, a sob rising up and you shook your head, hurrying away from Andy and keeping some distance between you as you trailed after the others.
Just as the sun began to dip, you followed Steve into a clearing, eyes going wide at the sight of an old, dusty Dodge Charger sitting in the middle of the barely there road that split the trees surrounding you.
Ransom whooped his delight, jogging over to the car and feeling around beneath the driver side tire well before pulling free a key. “I’ve never been so grateful to know such awful people who are so easy to buy off.”
His smile was shit-eating as he rounded the back of the car and popped the trunk, Steve and Andy moving closer to gaze into the depths as you lingered behind them.
Steve pulled forward a large duffle bag and you watched as he unzipped it to reveal a mess of men’s clothing and boots as well as some personal hygiene items. He was already unbuttoning his prison jumpsuit as your eyes landed on the various guns and knives piled in the corner of the trunk.
You froze at the sight, alarm bells ringing in your head, an inner voice hissing at you to make a run for it while they were all distracted with changing into normal clothes.
Taking a hesitant step back, you dropped your arms from around your torso, your fingers twitching nervously at your sides as you got an eyeful of three broad, muscled bodies that--in any other circumstance--would have had you wanting nothing more than to stay.
But then that urgent voice was yelling in your brain again, and you were watching as Ransom tugged a worn cable knit sweater over his head before reaching for a broad-handled hunting knife from the stash of weapons.
And you ran.
Twisting on your heel, you darted back into the woods, your footfalls loud and crashing as you heard the men shouting behind you. Keeping your arms raised to shield your face as much as possible, you weaved and dodged the trees and rocks littering the forest floor.
You didn’t make it far before a heavy weight was crashing into your back and you went down hard.
Screaming as you were roughly rolled onto your back, you slapped and clawed at Steve’s face as he wrestled with you, feeling both satisfied and nauseated as your nails caught on his cheek and drew down, carving three bloodied lines into his perfect face.
He growled as he caught your wrists and gathered them in one of his massive hands, the other circling your throat and squeezing hard until you stopped struggling once you realized you couldn’t breathe, your pathetic fight dying just as quickly as it had started.
Your eyes were big and frantic—pleading—as you went still and pliant beneath him, more tears wetting your cheeks as Steve snarled at you.
“Oh you just got yourself in a world of trouble, doc.”
Your vision was starting to go dark as his fingers crushed your windpipe, the frantic thrum of your heart beating loudly in your ears.
“I could have been nice,” Steve gritted, dipping close and avidly watching the way the light in your eyes was starting to dim. “I could have made it good for you.”
His mouth opened but whatever he was about to say next was replaced by a pained grunt as he was tackled to the ground beside you.
You gasped and coughed violently, your lungs burning as you heaved for air, and breathed in too much, choking as you curled into a ball and sobbed.
A few feet away, Steve and Andy wrestled, the latter straddling the former captain, cocking his fist back, and throwing a punch.
“You could have fucking killed her,” Andy growled, shoving away from Steve and standing over him, broad chest heaving. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her.”
“And you said you’d keep her under control,” Steve spat, swiping the blood from his split lip as he rolled to his feet and stood toe to toe with Andy. “You can try and play the role of savior all you want, Barber, but you’re not. Far from it. And now she knows the truth about you, and she fucking hates you for it.”
Another wordless snarl from Steve, and then you felt the weight of his furious gaze lingering on you before he was gone, stomping back the way you came as Andy turned to you.
“Come here, you’re okay,” he said quietly, dropping to his knees beside you and smoothing a hand over the side of your face.
“Please,” you croaked, your throat feeling like it was on fire after Steve’s assault. “Please just leave me behind,” you whispered, desperate gaze meeting Andy’s. “Please don’t make me go with them. They’ll kill me.”
“No they won’t, I won’t let them,” Andy promised.
“And what will you let them do to me?” You wailed. “Please, Andy. Don’t do this. You said that you would do anything for me, so let me go. Please.”
There was a flash of shame in his eyes but then it was like the shutters were being drawn as his jaw ticked and he watched you quietly.
“I would do anything for you, anything except let you go. This is the only way we can be together, and it won’t be like this forever. Just for a little while and then we’ll go our own way. Just you and me.”
Andy shushed you as you began to weep, his hands gentle as he gathered you close and pulled you to your feet alongside him.
“Just, be good, please,” he whispered as he led you back to the car. “Don’t make them angry. The more you cooperate, the easier it’ll be, for all of us.”
You didn’t reply, you just cried harder as you rejoined the others and avoided Steve’s violent glare as Andy ushered you to the car and settled in the back seat with you pulled close to his side.
Despite your predicament, you felt yourself falling asleep, all of the stress, anxiety, and overwhelm forming a cocktail of exhaustion that had you curled up against the car door. You sat as far away from Andy as you could get in the backseat as Steve drove and Ransom filled the passenger seat beside him.
You were jostled awake as the car pulled into a gravel lot, and you blinked your bleary gaze back into focus until you could read the bright red glowing letters of the motel sign before you.
Glancing around frantically, you realized it was dark now, and there were only a couple of other cars filling the lot of this motel seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
A soft, warm touch to your shoulder had you startling as you glanced over at Andy.
“We’re just stopping for the night,” he murmured. “Then we’ll be back on the road first thing in the morning.”
Up front, Steve rifled through the car’s glove box before pulling out a wad of cash and a worn trucker hat.
“I’ll go check in, don’t leave the car until I get back,” he said gruffly, pulling the hat low on his head before climbing from the car.
He stalked across the parking lot, to the far end of the motel building where the little corner check in office was located. He was only gone for a few minutes before returning and gesturing at you all as he rounded the car and grabbed the duffle bag from the trunk.
“Room 40,” he said, nodding at the very last door on the end of the building, on the total opposite side of where the check in office and other guest cars were located. He started to move that way but stopped at the sound of your frightened voice.
“Wait, we’re all sharing one room?”
Steve pivoted on his heel, his smile mean as he moved toward you, until you were pressed up against the side of the car and he was pressed up against you. Something dark and wicked--eager, too--glittered in his gaze, making all of your hair stand on end as he spoke.
“Oh, doc, we’re gonna share so much more than that.”
At your stricken look and the way your eyes shined with tears, Steve chuckled before stepping away and sauntering toward your motel room.
“He’s not wrong,” Ransom smirked, blowing you a kiss before trailing after Steve.
Andy took a step toward you but stilled as you warded him off with a shaking hand.
“Just, don’t,” you whispered, sniffling back a few tears as you hugged yourself tightly and slowly made your way to room 40.
Your stomach flipped unpleasantly once you stood in the doorway and found the tight, outdated space almost completely filled by one lone king sized bed.
The shower was already thundering on the other side of the closed bathroom door, and Ransom was lounging on the bed as his amused gaze lifted from the menu of TV channels he was reading to survey your look of horror.
“Oh, come on, kitten, don’t look so put out. We’re gonna fuck you so good, you’ll be begging us to take you with us when we leave here.”
Revulsion shook through you and you hugged yourself tighter, keeping as far away from the bed as you could before curling up in one of the two chairs that framed the small table adjacent to the door.
The door that Andy was closing behind him and locking with a soft click as his eyes quickly surveyed the room.
His gaze lingered on you, watching as you stubbornly stared at the floor to avoid his eyes, and kicked off your ruined heels before hugging your knees to your chest. He got a peek at the lacy black top of your thigh high as your skirt bunched up around your legs before he was forcing his gaze away.
When the shower suddenly cut out, Ransom quickly called, “Dibs!” Sliding from the bed, he rifled through the duffle bag before tugging free a pair of boxer briefs and flannel pants.
“Not that we’ll be dressed for long anyway,” he snickered.
You shuddered, closing your eyes against more tears as you rocked in your seat, anxiety and dread swirling in your belly as you barely held it together.
Steve, clad in only a towel slung low on his hips, was barely clearing the bathroom doorway before Ransom was darting inside and shutting the door behind him.
You glanced up at Steve’s towering form, unable to help it as your eyes danced along his tall, muscular body, lingering on the perfect slope of his broad shoulders before dropping to the adonis belt leading down into the top of his towel.
After a beat, your wide gaze flickered up, locking with Steve’s and you felt your face heat as he smirked at you before suddenly dropping his towel. You quickly glanced away, pressing your warm cheek to your knee as you stared at the closed blinds covering the window beside you.
Steve laughed. “Oh come on, doc, considering your profession and how pretty you are, I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of naked men, no?”
You didn’t respond, you didn’t move a muscle, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react.
Steve must have known exactly what you were doing, because his voice was callous as he said, “Don’t worry, after tonight you’ll have a PHD in taking cock and being a dirty little whore.”
You flinched at his words, vision blurring with fresh tears as you held yourself tighter, sniffling quietly.
“Leave her alone,” Andy snapped at Steve, watching as the former captain pulled a pair of grey sweat pants from the duffle bag and tugged them on.
Steve laughed, but he didn’t say anything else as he stretched out on the bed, tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
Andy pulled the duffle bag across the bed and rifled through it, pulling free his own change of clean clothes for after his shower before digging deeper, until he found some clothes and items for you, just as he had requested of Ransom’s contact.
He unearthed a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt for you to sleep in, as well as the small pink toiletries bag that he knew housed a variety of feminine hygiene products.
“Here,” he murmured, turning toward you and holding out the items like some kind of peace offering.
You ignored him, trying like hell to hold on to that anger and betrayal you felt for Andy, because it was better than drowning in the fear and anxiety that was just waiting to eat you alive.
But with that anger and betrayal came an overwhelming sense of sadness. A feeling of being utterly gutted and beyond devastated at Andy’s betrayal.
You couldn’t believe he would do something like this to you.
It was like your brain honest to God couldn’t even process such a concept.
And yet, here you were.
Sighing, Andy finally set your things on the table beside you before turning to glance up as Ransom emerged from the bathroom, clean and dressed in his pajamas before collapsing on the bed.
“I’m starving. I’m sure there’s some take out menus in here or something,” he muttered, pulling open the bedside drawer on the outdated nightstand. He made a sound of victory as he discovered a stack of menus. “What are we in the mood for? Chinese? Pizza? Burgers?”
You zoned out, allowing blissful static to fill your mind as the three male voices grew more distant as you stared at the wall beside you, unseeing.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but suddenly Andy was shaking you back to awareness. His hair was wet from his shower, the t-shirt he was wearing clinging to his broad frame as he crouched in front of you.
“Why don’t you go wash up? There should be plenty of hot water left.” His hand lifted, hesitant, and you watched as his fingers gently circled your ankle, his eyes watching as he touched your bare skin before lifting to your tearful gaze. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“The only thing that would make me feel better is if you let me go.”
“Well that’s not gonna happen,” Steve rumbled as he reclined against the headboard as Ransom spoke softly on the room phone. His dark gaze met yours--unwavering--as he leaned over, toward you, until you were recoiling from him. He continued, “So either you go enjoy a shower, or you come over here and ride my cock until dinner gets here.”
You were on your feet so quickly that you made yourself dizzy, holding a hand to your head as both Steve and Ransom laughed. You darted past Andy and toward the bathroom, but he grabbed your wrist, stilling your escape.
“Don’t--” you started.
But Andy only released his grip on you and held up the clothes and toiletries bag you’d left behind on the table.
You grabbed the items from him before scurrying into the bathroom, locking the door shut behind you, and catching yourself on the edge of the old, cracked counter as you met your frightened gaze in the mirror above the sink.
You stared at yourself for a long moment, mesmerized by the evident terror in your own gaze--something you had never seen before--making it feel like you were staring at the reflection of a complete and total stranger.
And then your vision was blurring with more tears as you held your hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs, unwilling to entertain the men on the other side of the door anymore than you would be forced to soon enough.
You’d barely been able to nibble at the food you’d been given after your shower, your appetite gone and your heart shattering just a little bit more when you saw that Andy had Ransom order your favorite sandwich, one he’d only seen you eat a couple of times when he had stayed in the infirmary, but a small detail he’d noticed and remembered all the same.
Curled up in the same chair as earlier, your eyes were starting to grow heavy, lingering shut for longer and longer between blinks as the minutes wore on.
You didn’t hear the men finish their meal, locked away in your own little world, but then a heavy hand was falling on your shoulder and jerking you awake.
You blinked up at Steve, feeling your stomach flip at the look of dark desire he was giving you.
“It’s playtime, doc”
“W-what?” You yelped as he grabbed your arm and yanked you to your feet, tugging you close until you were stumbling into his chest.
“No, please! Don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you stared up at Steve with frightened eyes.
“Begging looks good on you,” he hummed, dropping his head close enough that his nose brushed yours and you gasped. “Gonna have you crying for me soon enough, especially after that stunt you pulled earlier.”
“No--” you shook your head, struggling in his hold.
“But Barber gets you first since you’re his bargaining chip,” Steve sighed his disappointment, turning and roughly throwing you onto the bed.
You pushed yourself up to sit in the middle of the mattress, your cheeks wet with tears as your eyes frantically darted around, looking for an escape.
But there was none.
Ransom lounged to your right, Steve was sitting to your left, and Andy was perched at the foot of the bed, his face shadowed with a strange mixture of remorse and desire as his eyes slowly trailed over you.
Andy’s gaze lingered on your bare legs and the way your t-shirt had ridden up indecently high on your thighs. He licked his lips before his eyes flickered up to yours.
“I promise, I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.” He reached for you, but you scrambled away.
You didn’t get far before Ransom and Steve were each gripping one of your arms and yanking you back to the center of the bed, back to Andy.
He gently touched your ankles, then your calves, his palms cradling your warm, soft skin like you were something delicate.
Something he cherished.
It made a sob hitch in your chest, because how many times had you secretly fantasized about being on the receiving end of that kind of look--that kind of intimate touch--from Andy Barber?
Only the reality was nothing like you had ever imagined.
Not with both Ransom and Steve gripping you tighter, leaning in and trapping you between their bodies as Andy spread your legs open and shifted closer. Until he was kneeling between your splayed thighs and gazing down at you like you were his own personal salvation.
As Andy’s hands smoothed up your inner thighs, you knew he could feel you trembling, but that didn’t stop his wandering touch. His hands cupped your hips, giving you an exploratory squeeze that had a grunt lodging in his throat as Andy’s gaze blew dark with lust before your eyes.
His touch grew bolder then, his fingers tucking beneath the hem of your t-shirt and slowly pushing it up your body. He smoothed his palms along every new inch of revealed skin until you were squirming and your hand was shooting out to stop the ascent of your shirt just beneath the swell of your chest.
Andy stared at the soft underside of your breast, his thumb gently tracing you there, his gaze snapping up to yours at the sound of the quiet gasp falling from your lips.
You stared at him, your eyes shining and pleading as your bottom lip quivered. Your body thrummed with awareness and anticipation despite the sick pit in your stomach as you felt the burning stares of Ransom and Steve, felt the former’s hot breath on the side of your neck as the latter trailed his fingers along the outside of your bare thigh.
“Please don’t do this,” you whispered to Andy.
“I know you want me just as much as I want you,” Andy murmured, tongue sneaking out to wet his bottom lip as his gaze dropped to your exposed tummy.
His thumbs gently caressed your skin, eyes glittering with a hint of smugness as you shivered in response, trembling for him harder as his gaze met yours.
“No more lines to toe, no more rules to follow,” Andy sighed, his hands cupping your sides and gliding up, until his touch was moving beneath your t-shirt and his thumbs were circling the hard peaks of your nipples. “Now it’s just you and me.”
“And them,” you cried, biting your lip against a moan as Andy palmed your breasts.
It was as if your acknowledgment of them spurred them into action, and both Ransom and Steve yanked you backwards, until you were flat on the bed. They settled on their sides on either side of you as Andy stretched his body over yours.
“Don’t mind us,” Ransom murmured against your ear, giving it a gentle nibble. “We’re just spectators at the moment. The deal was that we each get some one on one time with you tonight to break you in.”
“Emphasis on ‘break you,’” Steve taunted.
You shook your head, crying as all three men worked together to undress you. Ransom and Steve tugged your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, and Andy rid you of your panties before shifting down the bed with a gravelly hum, his dark gaze intently fixed on your bare cunt.
“Gonna make you feel so good,” he breathed, settling between your thighs and licking his lips.
“No!” you cried, fruitlessly squirming in Ransom and Steve’s hold as you tried to snap your legs closed, but Andy easily pressed a palm to each of your thighs and pushed them back open again.
You gasped as he parted your folds with his thumbs, going rigid as he dragged one of them up the cut of you before gently circling your clit.
Andy’s eyes looked up the length of your quivering body, watching your reactions as he touched you.
Choking on a sob as you felt yourself growing wet, you squeezed your eyes shut as you sagged back against the bed, panting.
It burned at the back of your throat like bile, the hatred you felt for yourself in that moment.
Although you knew your physical response was purely biological, it was a certain kind of torture—a mind fuck—to have someone you cared for, to have Andy, making you feel this way, against your will, with others so eagerly watching.
This is my punishment, you thought fleetingly as a fresh wave of tears wet your lashes. This is what I get for feeling this way for someone like him.
“Yeah, that’s it, just give in,” Ransom cooed, jarring you from your thoughts. “You wasted all those years and money on med school, when this is what you were really made for.”
You were still processing Ransom’s awful words when you felt the heavy, hot drag of Andy’s tongue along your cunt. Your back bowed, a loud keen spilling from your lips as he tugged the hood of your clit back and lashed the sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue.
“Fuck, listen to those pretty sounds she’s making,” Steve groaned, massive hand reaching out to squeeze your breast.
“She tastes incredible,” Andy panted as he pulled away from you. “Fuck, she’s so wet.” He spread open the petals of your sex with his fingers, his thumb strumming your clit and watching the way your pussy weeped for him. “Christ.”
“Bet she’s a squirter,” Ransom smirked, dipping low to nip along the hinge of your jaw. “Isn’t that right, kitten? It’s always the quiet ones.”
You shook your head, your face burning from humiliation--and something else, something that had shame blooming to life deep in the core of you--as Steve and Ransom laughed.
“We’re gonna find out,” Ransom promised. “Once it’s my turn.”
You didn’t have long to dwell on that before Andy was back to eating your cunt so enthusiastically that you had no chance at stifling the cries and moans he was pulling from you.
His nose bumped against your swollen clit, his sharp jaw flexing relentlessly as he touched and teased and tasted you with his tongue. You could feel the prickle of his beard on your most sensitive flesh, and then his tongue was teasing along your quivering entrance before catching and pressing inside.
Your cry was sharp as you arched up, mindlessly rutting your hips against Andy’s face as Steve and Ransom’s hands eagerly mapped the trembling terrain of your body.
“Fucking look at her lose it,” Steve rumbled. “I knew she’d fucking love this, the little slut.”
“God, I can’t wait to feel her around my cock,” Ransom groaned, fingers twisting your nipple hard, lips curling against your jaw as he pulled a ragged keen from you with another harsh pinch.
From between your legs--and against your cunt--Andy moaned, at the flavor of you coating his tongue, at the way you were ardently fucking his face, at the sweet sounds of ruin falling from your lips.
His tongue gave a few more firm strokes along your channel before he was retreating and kissing your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He pressed two thick fingers inside of you, groaning at the smooth, velvety feel of your tight walls constricting around him, and then he was zeroing in on that spongy spot and--
You came suddenly, and hard, your body going taut as your muscles seized, a high pitched cry ringing around the room as you clenched and pulsed around Andy’s still questing fingers.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he hummed, fingers still languidly moving inside of you as you went pliant beneath him, sweat dotting your brow and eyes fluttering.
“I’m so fucking hard right now,” Ransom bemoaned, trying to mouth at your neck before Andy shot him a look.
“Wait your fucking turn,” he grunted, yanking his shirt over his head and flinging it aside before removing the rest of his clothes.
Huffing, Ransom shifted away, sharing an annoyed look with Steve as they both settled back against the headboard to give you and Andy some space.
Your brain was scrambled already, a distant part of you recalling how sensitive you were, how responsive your body was when it came to sex, and how you had almost forgotten because it had been so long since you’d had it.
Since before your job at the prison.
Since before your crush on Andy Barber.
Your body was already well on its way to being wrung out, and you knew you were just getting started.
These were just a few of the many rampant thoughts filling your foggy brain when Andy moved back over you. His bare body was thick with muscles and decorated with a number of tattoos that you didn’t expect, making your wide eyes linger as a different kind of warmth pooled at your center.
As Andy settled his weight over you, you felt the heavy, hot press of him against your stomach and gasped.
“See what you do to me,” he whispered, something soft in his gaze as he touched your cheek with his knuckles.
He moaned as he rocked against you, granting himself a little bit of friction as his hard cock dug into your belly. Andy dipped his head to kiss you, and you didn’t resist the eager press of his lips, still dazed by everything that was happening and your earlier orgasm.
And yet, deep down, your heart ached as the sting of his deception lingered, even as a part of you yearned for this very thing from Andy. A few tears leaked from your closed eyes and rained down your temples as he gently cupped your face and kissed you breathless.
You tried your best to focus on how good he was making you feel, wanting desperately to get lost in the physical sensations and escape the two unwanted and heavy gazes of Ransom and Steve from just a few feet away.
When Andy pulled away, he didn’t go far, leaning his forehead against yours as his hand moved between your bodies. You felt the tip of him dragging along your folds and gasped, shaking fingers clutching at Andy’s arms.
“Wanted to really work you over, honey,” he murmured, breath hitching as the head of his cock dipped against your entrance. “But fuck, I can’t wait any longer. Need to feel you.”
That was all the warning you got before he was spearing into you slowly, his cock thick and hot and the biggest you’d ever had as he stretched you open and groaned at the wild pulse and flutter of your cunt around him.
“Oh fuck,” Andy moaned, giving a few more rocks of his hips before he was bottoming out and you were mewling at the invasion.
The feeling of being completely and utterly full was too much--overwhelming--and you found yourself clinging to Andy desperately. You wrapped your arms around him, your hands pressing into the firm muscles of his back and tugging him closer, seeking comfort as your leg curled over his hip and Andy slid into you even deeper, grunting low in your ear.
“You feel so good,” he whispered against your lips, giving you a slow, sweet kiss as he sank even further against you. His hand was a warm press against your cheek, gently cradling your face as he kissed you deeply, his hips slowly starting to rock against you.
And you lost yourself to him, everything else falling away as Andy kissed you, worshipped you with his lips and tongue, as the rhythm of his hips began to pick up.
The next quick retreat of his cock had you nearly feeling empty before Andy was driving into you hard and punching a wrecked moan from between your swollen lips. You were mindless as you framed his rosy face with your hands and canted your hips for a better angle.
Another brutal snap of his hips, and Andy was grinding against you, making your clit sing as a shiver of ecstasy raced up your spine and you arched beneath him with a broken cry.
“That’s it, you’re doing so good for me, honey,” Andy panted, grunting as he pounded into you harder, the surge and retreat of his cock going faster.
He moaned as you clenched around him hard in response to his words, and then he was dropping his sweaty forehead to yours, his hand skimming down your belly as he fucked you with abandon, chasing his own release while his thumb rubbed circles on your clit until you were finding yours.
Bliss crashed into you like a tsunami, pleasure rippling over every inch of your overwrought body as you keened and mewled as your body rocked and quaked in visceral delight.
“Yeah, fuck,” Andy gasped as your tight heat squeezed him so hard it almost hurt. He rutted into you frantically, right on the edge of his own sweet relief. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna--”
You felt the twitch of Andy’s cock as he thrust into you hard and lingered, a hot rush flooding your insides as he moaned and gasped against your lips. The next few ruts of his hips were forceful and deep, making you whimper as each final plunge had another warm spurt of cum coating your fluttering walls.
With one final drive of his hips, Andy sagged against you with a quiet moan, tucking his face against the crook of your neck as he held you tight and trembled on top of you.
Your head was filled with static as you came down from your high, your body still twitching with aftershocks as you felt Andy breathe in deep. And then he was pushing himself up over you and gently cupping your face.
He kissed you slowly, softly, his lips lingering against yours as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I don’t have a choice.”
Your brows had barely begun to furrow in confusion before he was pulling away from you and suddenly Steve was taking his place.
He was naked and slowly fisting his cock as he knelt at your feet, smirking as the look of confusion on your face slowly morphed to terror.
Swallowing, your eyes slowly left Steve and landed on Andy, but he was avoiding your pleading gaze as he quickly pulled on his clothes.
“A-andy, please,” you whispered.
He ignored you, didn’t even look at you, as he said, “I’ll be in the car. Turn on the light outside of the room to let me know when you’re both done.”
And then he was gone, the door shutting behind him with a quiet click of finality as he left you alone and at the mercy of Steve and Ransom.
You whimpered, swallowing a sob as you tried to move away from Steve with a quiet, “no, please,” but he just caught you by your knees and yanked you closer.
“Hope you didn’t think we’d all be worshipping you like Barber,” Steve mocked.
His big hand settled on your quivering stomach and slowly slid up your body as he stretched out over you, until your faces were aligned and his hand was circling your throat.
“I still owe you for earlier, for trying to run and then scratching up my face.”
You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes. “No, I’m sorry--”
“Oh,” Steve chuckled lowly, his fingers flexing around your throat. “You will be.”
You shrieked as he suddenly pulled away, grabbed your hips, and flipped you onto your stomach. He yanked you up onto your knees, and you were just getting your hands underneath you when Steve tsked and gripped the back of your neck, shoving your face into the rumpled blankets of the bed.
“Don’t fucking move,” he snarled. He gave your neck a warning squeeze that had you chirping in pain, and then he slapped your ass hard and shoved your legs apart as far as they would go.
Your words morphed into a scream as Steve roughly drove into you, his cock bigger than Andy’s, and thicker too, as it stretched you painfully and burned with every single inch that was forced into your trembling body.
There was no moment to adjust, no teasing your clit to make it feel good for you or help you to your own release, just raw, primal fucking as Steve set a brutal pace that had you crying into the sheets with every harsh snap of his hips.
“Fuck,” he grunted, massive hands framing your waist and digging into your skin hard enough to bruise as he viciously yanked you back onto his cock and into every forward thrust of his hips. “I knew this uptight pussy would fit like a fucking glove.”
His words fell away, replaced by groans and grunts, as he fucked you, his hands pulling your ass cheeks apart and watching the way your swollen pussy swallowed his cock over and over again.
You buried your tear-stained face against the blankets, biting your lip against the pained noises bubbling up from the back of your throat. And then you were going rigid as Steve’s thumb brushed over your puckered hole.
“N-no, please, don’t!”
“Bet you’ve never let anyone fuck this ass before, huh?” Steve panted, the drive and drag of his hips never faltering.
You whined, in fear and at the indignity of it, sobbing as you felt Steve spit on your asshole, crudely lubing you up before pressing his thumb against your tight ring.
It took a beat, but then your body surrendered to his wicked touch, his thumb sinking into your virgin hole and making you go stiff at the unfamiliar and painful intrusion.
“Shit, she’s squeezing my cock so fucking hard,” Steve gritted, the quest of his thumb pushing harder, going deeper, working in tandem with the relentless drive of his cock until your body was locking up with an unexpected orgasm.
Steve laughed as you spasmed beneath him with a pathetic moan, your hands fisting the blankets as you shook, your body feeling both wrecked and like it didn’t even belong to you as you clenched and fluttered around Steve’s unrelenting cock.
“That’s it, doc, milk my cock like the dirty little slut that we all know you are,” Steve hissed.
He railed into you harder, relishing in every pained chirp and quiet plea, until he was hurtling toward his own release and filling you up with a guttural moan. A few more hard, deep thrusts shoved his spend deeper before his hips met your ass for the final time.
Steve sighed in satisfaction, his hand smoothing along your trembling ass as his thumb gave your puckered hole a final stroke that had you gasping for him. He smirked, pulling his thumb from your ass, humming at the quiet squelch and the way your pretty hole slowly winked closed before his eyes.
He wasn’t gentle as he pulled out of you, laughing as you whined your misery before collapsing on the bed and curling into a ball.
You hugged yourself tightly, your body sore and exhausted, your pussy overstimulated and tender and leaking cum as you tried to catch your breath, a quiet, distant part of you beyond thankful for your birth control implant.
The room was quiet around you, and then you felt the bed shift as a soft, warm hand gently smoothed up your back. The touch was much softer than Steve’s and you knew it was Ransom who loomed over you now, eager for his turn.
You began to cry, covering your face with your hands at the thought of being used again, feeling so dirty to the depths of your very soul that you didn’t think you’d ever feel clean again.
“Shhh, it’s okay, kitten, I can be nice,” Ransom crooned, pressing a chain of soft kisses along your shoulder and then up the side of your throat. “You just do what I say, and I’ll take care of you.”
You flinched as his free hand slid between your legs to cup your core. “No! Please, it hurts, I hurt.”
“I’m gonna make it hurt so good, you’ll be begging for it,” Ransom hummed, rolling you onto your back and shoving his way between your splayed legs. “Fuck, look at that pretty pussy. Gonna make her fucking weep for me.”
You jerked as he drew his fingers up your slit, whining at the overstimulation. “I can’t.” You clawed at Ransom’s hand, trying to yank his touch away. “Don’t!”
Sighing, he gathered your wrists, glaring at you before his eyes were flickering up to Steve. “Hold her down for me, will ya? I’ll need both my hands to ruin this cunt properly.”
They both ignored your whimper, Steve grinning as he propped himself up on his side above your head, still naked and easily pinning both of your wrists to the bed with one hand.
And then Ransom was shifting lower, until his face was level with your puffy folds and he was kissing along your messy core and moaning at your sweet little noises of distress and mortification. He cleaned you with his mouth, his tongue dragging along your heat and shoving into your quivering hole, making you keen.
He slung a heavy arm over your hips to hold you down, working his way back up to your clit, tongue torturing your little pleasure pearl with kitten licks before he was tugging back the hood of it to give him better access.
“Is she, or isn’t she?” he drawled, his thumb working your sensitive bundle of nerves, gaze glittering as he watched the trickle of fluid from between your folds. “Mmmm, I think she may be.”
And then he was strumming your clit relentlessly, his thumb insistent and brutal in it’s torture as you cried out and your back bowed.
White noise buzzed in your head, growing louder and louder as catching your breath became more difficult, then impossible.
You were toeing the line of pleasure and pain, begging Ransom to stop and shrieking as he gave your pussy a harsh slap. Your gasp was sharp, your body trilling at the new sensation—overwrought—and you couldn’t suppress the moan that slipped out as Ransom gave your cunt another hard spank.
“Yeah, go on, kitten, let go for me. You’re almost there, I know it.” One more painful slap between your legs, and then Ransom’s thumb was back at your clit, rubbing hard, and then harder, circling and circling until you finally, blessedly snapped.
Your body bowed with the force of your release, and you could actually hear it gushing out of you, the rush of fluid squirting from your pussy as you writhed and trembled and sobbed because it felt so fucking good.
“Fuck, that’s it, make a mess for me,” Ransom groaned, incessantly tapping your clit with his fingers, the contact ringing loud and wet as a second orgasm rippled through you.
You were senseless as another wave of wetness gushed from your cunt, a distant part of you amazed because you had no idea you could do this, and it was like you had no choice but to surrender to the overwhelming pleasure washing through you.
Being ripped from you against your will.
“Christ,” Steve grunted, his grip on your wrists tightening reflexively as he stared down the length of you. “For all her crying and fussing, she’s ruining the fucking mattress because she likes it so much, the slut.”
Ransom snickered as you collapsed back against the bed.
You were incoherent and completely spent, your body trembling and covered in sweat. All you could do was moan weakly as Ransom shoved two fingers inside of you and gave your pussy a few experimental pumps as he settled on top of you.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, knocking his nose against yours as he curled his fingers and smirked as you gasped and spasmed beneath him.
Ransom’s head dipped closer, his dark eyes dancing between yours, and then he was kissing you. His lips worked against yours eagerly, a groan sounding from the back of his throat before he was gripping your face and deepening the kiss.
You didn’t resist, even as the flavor of your own ruin coated your tongue, your body well beyond fucked out and on autopilot as your lips unconsciously tried to meet his press for press.
Ransom’s lips were still teasing against yours when he guided his cock to your entrance and sank into you with one powerful stroke.
You mewled against his mouth, eyes filling with tears at the burn of him filling you up, another unwanted invasion despite the way your cunt was gripping and pulsing around his cock, hungry for more.
“Mmm, I always thought you’d be a good lay,” Ransom said, sliding his cock almost all the way out before surging back into you and groaning his delight. “Fuck, I love being right.”
He railed into you half a dozen times before he was suddenly pushing away from you and you were blinking up at him in a haze of confusion. And then you were groaning as your sore body protested the way Ransom was jostling and rearranging you, nearly folding you in half as he perched your ankles on his shoulders, tilted your hips, and shoved his cock back into you with a quiet snarl.
“Ah fuck,” he gritted, smirking at your pathetic whines and whimpers as he settled into a frenzied pace and stroked into you so deep, you swore you could feel him in your belly. “Not gonna last long, not with this tight pussy being so greedy for me.”
You jerked as his thumb dropped to your swollen clit and began to trace light circles. “No, I can’t,” your wail was quiet as you struggled against Steve’s hold on your wrists to no avail.
“You fucking will,” Ransom panted, slamming into you harder, lingering for a beat as he circled his hips and moaned. “Fuck. Wanna feel you cum around my cock. You know how long it’s been since I had a cunt squeeze me like this?”
With every stroke of his cock, Ransom had you crying out, unable to catch your breath as that coil wound tighter and tighter in your belly one last time.
He was relentless and determined, pistoning into you over and over again, his thumb pressing harder against your clit until you were cumming with a strangled cry of complete and utter ruin.
“Ah fuck, that’s it,” Ransom moaned, stilling for a beat and basking in the feel of your cunt pulsing and gripping and sucking him in deeper. As you went limp beneath him, your eyes fluttering shut and staying that way, Ransom finally let go.
Husky grunts and groans spilled from his lips as he fucked you. The sound of skin slapping and your wet, messy cunt squelching rose up around him until he was driving into you hard and shouting his release, head thrown back and the tendons in his neck popping as he emptied himself into your overworked cunt.
“Shit,” Ransom panted, giving a few more pumps of his hips before bottoming out one last time as your pussy spasmed around him. He sagged against you, taking a moment to catch his breath.
“I’m pretty sure she passed out.”
At the sound of Steve’s voice, Ransom glanced up at him, watching in amusement as he released your wrists before picking up one of your hands and dropping it back to the bed.
It flopped there, and you remained still, your face lax and shining with sweat as Ransom gently tapped your cheek with his knuckles. “Kitten?”
When you didn’t respond in the least, didn’t even move, Ransom laughed. “Well, wouldn’t be the first time I fucked a girl unconscious.”
“Pretty sure you had a little help getting her there,” Steve said dryly.
Grinning, Ransom pulled away from you, humming as he eased his softening cock from your pussy and sat back on his heels, watching cum trickle down your messy folds.
“After that filthy workout, I need another shower,” he smirked, giving your naked body a lingering look before rising to his feet. “You want me to give Barber the green light to come back in?”
Steve watched your unconscious form, big hand trailing along your naked chest, fingers plucking at your hard nipples. It took a moment for him to pull his gaze from you, so mesmerized was he by all that bare and dewy skin.
Finally, his eyes lifted to Ransom, a smirk curling his lips as he replied, “Nah, let’s leave him out there to stew in his misery for a little while longer, the prick.”
You woke with a jolt, the slight movement enough to make your body scream in protest.
You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your whimper of pain, going very still as you remembered where you were--what had happened--as you tried to focus on the dark and quiet motel room around you.
You weren’t sure what time it was or how long you had been out. The last thing you remembered was Ransom taking his turn with you and then…blissful nothing.
You could feel that you were still in bed and surrounded by them, your eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. You could just make out Andy on your right, Steve on your left, and Ransom sprawled at the foot of the bed.
All three men were sleeping, their breathing deep and even as you felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes at the sheer force of relief you felt to be the only one awake right now.
To not be consumed by them, filled by them, fucked by them, hurt by them in this moment.
You suppressed a shudder as flashes of the night replayed in your mind, the way they had violated your body, used you for their own pleasure, all three of them, one after another.
You were here, enduring this, because of Andy.
Another feeling swiftly rose up within you, and you carefully crawled from the bed, around the big, sleeping bodies of your captors, and fled to the bathroom.
You didn’t even check to make sure the door was shut all the way before you were darting toward the toilet, dropping to your knees, and retching.
It felt like you threw up everything you had eaten in the past month, your body rebelling the earlier abuse the only way it knew how, until you were weak and shaking and curled up on the cold tile floor.
That’s how Andy found you a short while later, shivering as you dozed, your face still covered in a sheen of sweat and sick staining your bottom lip.
Sighing, he closed the door, locking it with a quiet click, before wetting a wash cloth at the sink and grabbing the bottle of mouthwash on the counter.
Kneeling beside you, Andy murmured your name, hand smoothing over your clammy cheek as he gently cleaned your mouth.
You whined as he tugged you up to a sit, making you rinse your mouth before using the wash cloth to mop some of the sweat from your forehead.
“How long have you been in here?” He asked, rubbing your back gently.
“I dunno. Not long.”
“Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick again?”
You shook your head. “I don’t think I have anything left in me to be sick.”
You realized it in that moment, as you tried to discern how you felt, that you felt like your body no longer belonged to you, no longer existed the way that it always had before.
And it didn’t.
You were forever changed now.
Dirty in a way that would never come clean, because it wasn’t just your body that was marred with a kind of unspeakable filth you couldn’t even comprehend let alone begin to undo…
It was like all that you were, the deepest most sacred part of you--your very soul--was irrevocably tainted and forever tarnished.
Ruined in a way that could never be repaired.
“I feel so dirty,” you whispered, your voice breaking as your vision swam with tears. You dropped your face into your trembling hands, riddled with a strange combination of feeling too much and feeling hollow to your core.
“We can get you cleaned up, honey,” Andy whispered. “Come on.”
You didn’t fight him as he pulled you to your feet, wrapping an arm around your back as he used his free hand to start the shower.
It was then, as you watched him undress, that you realized you were naked, and it hadn’t even occurred to you until that moment. You hadn’t felt vulnerable by it. All you felt was a jarring sense of unending horror, loss, and grief.
Because you had died out there in that motel room tonight.
Who you woke up as this morning, the kind, caring, compassionate doctor at Steelridge Correctional Center, had ceased to exist.
She was gone now, lost forever.
And all that was left was a fragile, nearly broken shell of a person.
You must have spaced out, lost in your dark, mournful thoughts, because it was the pounding of the hot water on your back that brought you into awareness again.
You turned into the spray of water, closing your eyes and tilting your head back as you let it wash over you, pretending that it really was cleansing you in the way you so desperately wanted.
Blinking your eyes open, you used your fingers to gently clean away the mess between your legs, wincing as your abused core burned and ached, despite your delicate touch.
Suddenly there was a heat at your back even hotter than the water, and you went still as Andy pressed flush against you.
His beard scraped your shoulder as he pressed soft kisses to your skin. His chest hair tickled your back as his hands mapped the flare of your waist as he pulled you against him and rutted his growing hardness against your ass.
The hollowness you had been feeling was slowly being replaced by a deep seated anguish and a red hot fury.
It only grew as Andy turned you toward him and pressed you against the cold tile wall.
His hand dipped to your thighs and you caught his wrist. “Don’t. I can’t. It hurts too much.”
Andy pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, shaking free of your grip. “S’okay, honey, you can still make me feel good.”
You felt your stomach churn as he curled your hand around his cock.
Andy moaned quietly as he made your fingers squeeze the velvety steel of his length. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring down between your bodies as he guided your touch, directed the drag of your thumb along the vein at the underside of his cock until he was groaning.
You tried to recoil, to pull your hand away, but Andy’s hold only grew tighter as he rutted his hardness into your forced grip. His free hand found your hip, holding you in place as you tried to squirm away.
Thankfully he didn’t last long, giving a throaty grunt as he came a few minutes later, the white ropes of his cum hitting your stomach and dribbling over your hand.
As you listened to Andy’s panting breaths, and stared at the way his hand still held yours captive around his softening cock, you realized he was the worst of your three captors.
That despite the brutality Steve had shown you earlier, you’d take that over Andy’s deceptively soft touches and empty promises any day of the week.
How had he fooled you?
Emotion bubbled up your throat as you finally tore your hand away from him.
“I was so stupid!” You cried, glaring up at him as he watched you with a stunned look on his face. “I thought you cared about me! I thought you were a good man, but I was wrong.”
“Honey—“ Andy lifted his hand to your face, trying to placate you.
“No!” You slapped it away. “Don’t touch me.”
You shoved him away, yanking the shower curtain open and stumbling out of the small space. You pulled a clean towel from the cabinet and dried yourself off before wrapping the towel around your body and pressing yourself into the furthest corner of the tiny bathroom.
Andy turned off the water, reaching for his own towel before stepping out from the shower. Sighing, he just stared at you for a moment, guilt and indifference going to war across his handsome features before he finally murmured your name.
You shook your head. “Please just, bring me some clean clothes and leave me alone.”
“You need to come back to bed,” Andy said.
“You don’t have a choice!” he snapped, his voice harsh despite how quiet it was, his eyes burning at you as you flinched but maintained his stare. “This isn’t up for debate. I told you I can’t keep you safe if you’re being difficult.”
You laughed, but it was a sharp, mirthless thing. “Is that what you think you’ve done so far? Kept me safe? Are you really that goddamn delusional?”
“If I didn’t protect you back at the prison, you’d be dead right now.”
“I would rather be dead than have endured what I did tonight because of you.”
Andy’s stance deflated as his face went soft, his gaze filled with despair. “You don’t mean that.”
Your lower lip trembled as you spoke your realization aloud, “It scares me how much I do.”
And suddenly you were weeping as you sank back against the wall, smothering the inhuman and distraught wails spilling from your lips so you didn’t wake the others.
Andy was on you in a heartbeat, pulling you into his arms and hugging you tightly as he rubbed your back and whispered words of comfort you couldn’t comprehend because you were lost in the deep abyss of your pain.
Rocked at the realization that, for the first time ever, you truly did welcome death if it meant you would escape another night locked away with the three sick and twisted men who had your life—and your body—in the palm of their hands.
You stood there for a long time, until you were all cried out and feeling even more numb than you did before. Your eyes were swollen and heavy with exhaustion, and you didn’t even resist as Andy dressed you in the clean t-shirt he had grabbed from the duffle bag just outside the bathroom door.
You didn’t argue as he led you back to bed and waited for you to curl up in the middle, between him and Steve.
You were too exhausted to object when he curled around you, spooning you and hugging you to his chest.
“I promise it will get better,” Andy whispered against your ear, holding you tighter as you closed your eyes.
One last thought whispered through your mind as you finally surrendered to sleep.
I know that it will only get worse.
The next time you woke up, it was your own pained mewl that pulled you back to consciousness.
Your eyes fluttered open and after a few sleepy blinks, Steve’s face came into focus just inches from your own. Your gaze went wide--terrified--and then your body tensed as you felt his big, rough hand sneaking between your legs.
“No, please,” you whispered the familiar—and steadfastly ignored—plea, voice trembling and tears catching on your lashes as you clutched his wrist.
“Don’t do that,” Steve murmured, pulling his hand from your center and catching yours. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he lifted your palm to his face and pressed a kiss to the center.
He smirked as your breath caught in shock at the soft gesture, but the curl of his lips wasn’t as mean as usual. “Gonna show you how nice I can be. If you’re good for me, I can be real good to you, doc.”
You couldn’t keep your face indifferent, features twisting with disbelief as you watched him.
Steve laughed quietly. “Guess I woke up on the right side of the bed this morning. Freedom and some good pussy will do that to a guy.”
His fingers danced down your side, skipping over your hip, taking their time to skim and grope along the dips and valleys of your body.
“You know how many times I’ve imagined fucking you? You must have known what I was thinking every time I saw you, the way you were always so nervous around me, so sweet and jumpy anytime I came to the infirmary.”
His hand finally dipped back toward your center, and you couldn’t help but press your thighs together, petrified at the thought of Steve taking you the way he had last night.
“Please, I’m still sore,” you whimpered, resisting the urge to claw at his face as he easily shoved his hand between your legs.
“Aw, I’ll make it feel better,” he cooed.
You stiffened as Steve’s fingers delicately brushed over your folds, a tiny part of you grateful that it didn’t hurt as much as you feared it would, especially after last night.
But it didn’t feel good either.
You wouldn’t let it.
There had to be something you could control in this situation.
When Steve circled your clit, you jerked at the throb, gasping as your eyes watered even more. “Steve, I can’t—“
He surged forward, kissing away your objections, his mouth moving against yours as fiercely as his body had pressed against yours last night.
Steve groaned when his tongue touched yours, his free hand sliding against the curve of your cheek and tugging you closer as he explored the inside of your mouth with his tongue.
His kiss distracted you enough that you didn’t realize how insistently his fingers were working your cunt until you were already wet.
When two of his fingers slid into you and began to stroke and scissor, Steve trapped your whimper between your mouths before reluctantly retreating from your lips.
“There you go, just take what I give you. Let it feel good.”
You shook your head, biting your bottom lip against a moan when Steve curled his fingers.
“You’re cute,” he smirked. “But I know you like it. As much as you wanna pretend like you don’t, you’re cunt’s creaming all over my hand, it’s fucking crying for me.”
He nipped at your kiss swollen bottom lip, humming as you clenched around him hard when he discovered that spongy sweet spot inside of you.
You couldn’t stifle your moan as Steve began to aim for that spot over and over, until you were writhing against his hand, your hips frantically rocking as you choked out a pathetic, “Please!”
“How can I say no when you’re being such a sweet little slut for me?” Steve murmured, his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers drove deeper and faster.
Until your body was bowing and a wordless cry was falling from your lips as pleasure rushed through you like a tidal wave.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Steve panted, his voice excited as he nipped at the hinge of your jaw. “So pretty when you’re cumming for me, doc.”
He shifted closer as your trembling subsided, your breathing ragged and your stomach twisting with self-disgust as Steve pulled you flush against him. His hand retreated from your center so he could lift your leg, curving it over his hip and opening you up for him as his other hand guided his cock to your center.
“Steve, please don’t,” you were crying now, desperate for a reprieve from this endless desecration as your fingers dug into his chest as he dragged his length along your slit. “Please—“
“Shhh, don’t make me hurt you,” he warned, voice still soft but his eyes flashing with enough steel--and that familiar, wild ferocity--that you felt a wave of terror shake through you before sagging against him in submission.
“Good girl,” Steve whispered, hips tilting and cock nudging at your opening before he was slowly sliding into you.
It felt like he was impaling you with fire, your channel stretching to capacity and burning something fierce with every inch that sank inside of you.
Choking on a sob, you closed your eyes, feeling hot tears spill down your cheeks as your fingers dug into Steve’s chest and you whined at the feel of him finally bottoming out.
“Mmmm, you’re doing so good for me,” Steve murmured, smoothing a hand over the curve of your ass before tilting your face up to his and slotting his lips over yours for a languid kiss.
“Look at us, getting along,” Steve purred. His fingers gripped your ass harder to hold you in place as his hips retreated before driving into you again, quicker than before.
He swallowed your pained sounds as he did it again, and again, until he was fucking you with deep, steady strokes.
You couldn’t tell if it was starting to feel good or if you had just gone numb, but you felt in a daze as Steve picked up his pace.
And then you felt the bed shift behind you, and a kiss against your shoulder, the prick of a beard against your skin.
Before you could process what was happening, Andy’s chest was pressing against your back, his big hands pushing your shirt up and tugging it over your head until you were naked between both men.
“Not a bad way to wake up,” he said, his voice gruff from sleep as he chained kisses along the slope of your neck.
“You’re telling me,” Steve groaned, giving a harsh rut of his hips that had you keening in pleasure-pain.
You’d barely caught your breath from Steve’s increased pace when you felt Andy’s fingers teasing along your cunt, swirling around your clit and making you gasp.
When those same slick-soaked fingers were suddenly rubbing at your puckered hole, you wailed a quiet “no!” as you tried to jerk away.
It only drove you closer to Steve, and suddenly he was rolling onto his back and pulling you with him, settling you on top, his hands like steel manacles against your hips as he fucked up into you.
Your head was spinning from all the different sensations and emotions running rampant through your body and mind, and your struggles were weak and pathetic compared to the strength of Steve and Andy.
Especially now that they were working together, using you in tandem.
Andy’s hand slid against your back, pushing you down until your chest was flush to Steve’s. And then he was moving behind you, hands gripping your ass and spreading you open.
You cried harder, unable to move as Steve hugged you against his chest, the drive of his hips never relenting as he groaned and snarled beneath you, lost in his pleasure as he held you captive so Andy could prep you for his own.
Andy’s finger at your asshole was gentler than Steve’s had been last night, but it still hurt, especially with how rigid you were, and no amount of soft praise and gentle cooing could ease the tension from your body.
That didn’t stop Andy from working you open though, until your tight channel could take two of his fingers at once and you were tucking your face against the crook of Steve’s neck, hiding as you drowned in humiliation and shame.
At the prod of Andy’s cock at your back entrance, you went completely still. Completely quiet. Even your breathing stopped.
It was almost like you were shutting down completely, unable to accept what was happening.
And who was doing it to you.
Against your will.
Andy eased into you slowly, and despite how gentle he was, it hurt. It hurt so much, but you were too far gone to react. To cry anymore. To beg him to stop even though you knew he wouldn’t.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Andy grunted as his hips finally met your ass. “She’s so fucking tight.”
“Mmm,” Steve hummed, his thrusts stopping as he felt you constrict around him. “Her cunt feels tighter now too. Squeezing me so hard. I could stay in this perfect pussy all day.”
Andy fucked into you a few times, Steve joining in from beneath you as they settled into a rhythm that worked for them both. The room slowly filled with groans and hisses of pleasure, skin slapping loudly as the headboard knocked against the wall in a steady rhythm and the mattress squeaked at the strain of your romp.
You ignored it all, shuttering yourself away in your mind as you closed your eyes and pretended like your body wasn’t yours.
This wasn’t you.
You weren’t here.
You were far away. Back at the California beach cottage where you had vacationed last summer. Waking up every morning to the sound of the waves crashing below and watching the most incredible sunsets at the end of each day.
As your fingers curled against Steve’s chest in response to the way they were working you, you tried to ignore how your traitorous body was weeping with arousal, easing the push and pull of the two cocks effectively taking you apart.
You tried so hard to disassociate from all the feelings and sensations driving your body to the very brink of overwhelm and devastating ruin.
You blinked back the tears that sprung forward as you recognized the desperate, needy bloom that started warming deep down in your center, burning hotter and stronger with every unwanted rut and wicked touch.
In your mind, you returned to the path you had walked along the private beach each morning on your vacation last year. You were counting all the different colors on the ocean horizon when you felt a soft touch against your cheek and your eyes fluttered open to find Ransom kneeling beside you and Steve.
He was naked, his eyes dark and shining with a sinful desire as he tugged your face his way and pressed the head of his hard, weeping cock against your lips.
Some deeply buried part of you that was holding out hope for whatever could possibly come on the other side of this nightmare died as you gagged around Ransom’s cock.
His groans joined the carnal symphony filling the room as he fucked your mouth, then deeper, ramming into your throat, uncaring as you choked and convulsed--unable to breathe--as tears streamed down your face.
You felt fingers at your clit as your body--the biggest betrayer of all--was filled and fucked and ravaged by three different cocks.
And suddenly you were choking on Ransom’s salty, bitter cum a split second before your body was going taut with an orgasm that brought you more devastation and despair than pleasure.
“Oh fuck!” Steve snarled as you clenched around him, and then he was fucking up into you desperately, giving a wordless shout as he came, his hips jerking against you as he filled you with his seed.
Behind you Andy moaned at the flutter and pulsing of your body, his hips moving more frantically as he chased his own end. A few more hard thrusts and he was groaning his release, giving one final stroke that was so forceful it had you whimpering as you jerked against Steve, feeling a warm rush of cum fill your ass and burn you up from the inside out.
You weren’t sure how long you laid there among the tangle of panting, sated men--your captors and defilers--but after a while they all began to move away, heedless of the way you curled up in the center of the bed, silently crying as they took turns cleaning up and getting dressed.
You drifted in and out of consciousness, shoving Andy away with a pathetic whine when he tried to make you drink some water, and again when he brought you some fresh clothes to change into.
It was all too much, and everything hurt, your body riddled with the kind of pain and exhaustion that you had never felt before. You had nothing left to give--completely spent and despondent--so you just laid there, trembling and covered in sweat and cum and your own shameful juices, closing your eyes and hoping they would never open again.
But all too soon bright sunlight was peeking in around the edges of the drawn blinds as Steve began packing up the group’s meager belongings.
After another failed attempt by Andy to get you up and dressed, Steve growled his irritation, tossing the packed duffle bag aside before moving toward you with violence in his eyes.
“This is the last time we ask nicely, doc,” he gritted, hands on his hips as he stood over the edge of the bed, glaring down at you. “So get that cum filled ass up and at ‘em and get dressed so we can move out.”
You ignored him, silent as you stiffly rolled onto your other side to escape his presence as much as you could, wincing at the pain that flared through your body at the movement.
And then a different kind of pain, the blinding kind, was piercing through you as Steve grabbed you by the back of the neck and wrenched you out of bed.
Your scream was a quiet, quavering thing, your throat raw from crying and shrieking and moaning over the past god knows how many hours of torture and debasement.
Steve threw you at his feet, giving you a swift kick to the stomach that has you choking on air and curling in on yourself with an agonized wheeze.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Andy snarled, lunging for Steve and growling as Ransom held him back. “You’re gonna fucking kill her.”
Steve sneered at him, opening his mouth to respond but your broken voice beat him to it.
“Do it, please,” you trembled. You gingerly pushed yourself up to sit as you stared up at the three convicts, tears streaming down your face, eyes pleading and shadowed with exhaustion. “Please just get it over with, just kill me.”
“Kill you?” Steve’s laugh was malicious as he crouched down before you and balanced on the balls of his feet. He took your chin between his fingers. “Doc, you're ours now. We’ll need to lay low together for a while and we’ll need some entertainment for the long haul.”
“Got a sweet little cabin off the grid where we’re gonna be fucking all those pretty holes of yours every single day, kitten,” Ransom chimed in as Andy shrugged out of his hold. “Just another two days or so on the road and we’ll be home sweet home, where no one will ever find us.”
The thought of enduring further torture and violation at the hands of these men, let alone living with it for good, had you sobbing as you shook your head. “I c-can’t do this. P-please.”
Your next sob was cut off as Steve grabbed you by the throat and gave you a harsh shake. “You’re gonna do it. You’re gonna get your ass up and get dressed or I’m really gonna give you something to cry about.”
He let you go and you shook your head, a desperate chant of, “No, no, no,” falling from your lips between your frantic sobs and hiccups. When you tried to curl in on yourself, your defiance born from sheer panic versus stubbornness, Steve lost it.
He snarled like an animal as he grabbed you by the throat, rose with you in his grip, and threw you on the bed. “That’s it, I tried being nice and patient with you, you little bitch. I showed you how it could be if you just played nice, but I’ve fucking had it. Now I’m gonna show you what happens when you keep fucking disobeying me.”
It was the metal clink of Steve’s belt unbuckling that has you weakly rolling onto your stomach and trying to crawl away from him. The sound of the leather sliding from the belt loops of his jeans made you whimper.
You couldn’t take him again. You couldn’t take any of them again.
The thought had you hyperventilating and then all the noise in your head cut out at once as you felt the violent crack of Steve’s belt against your bare ass.
Your shriek of pain was a broken, pitiful thing as your body spasmed with agony.
“What are you doing?” Andy shouted, lunging for Steve again, but going perfectly still as the former captain swiped up the handgun from the bedside table, clicked the safety off, and pointed it at Andy's chest.
“Don’t fucking move,” Steve spat. “This is your fault for being so fucking soft with her. She needs to know who’s in charge and what happens when she keeps acting like a little cunt.”
He brought the belt down again, this time whipping across your back, and you sobbed as you felt the welt it left behind, searing into your skin.
“Fucking stop, she gets it,” Andy said, his voice shaking with suppressed fury as he curled his his trembling hands into fists at his sides.
Steve’s lips quirked into a mean smirk as he wound his arm back and brought the belt down across your back again, chuckling at the sound of your strangled cry of pain.
Andy dove forward but stopped as Steve turned on him and shoved the barrel of the gun against the center of his forehead. He stalked forward, pushing Andy against the wall, white teeth bared as he muttered, “Just give me a fucking reason. Think of what I’ll do to her when you’re not around to play protector.”
Andy’s jaw clenched, his furious eyes glittering with a quiet rage and the shadow of fear as he silently met Steve’s stare head on, but didn’t reply, didn’t move a muscle in challenge.
“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought,” Steve hummed. He turned, handing the gun off to Ransom and nodding toward the other side of the bed. “You’re gonna hold her down and point that gun at her head, and if he moves,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Andy. “You put a bullet in her fucking head.”
Ransom huffed, glare dancing between Steve and Andy before his grip on the gun tightened and he rounded the bed until he was standing over you.
“Surrounded by fucking drama no matter where I go and who I’m with,” he muttered, gathering your wrists in his free hand and holding them tight. He gave you a little shake. “You just couldn’t do what you’re told and make things easy, could you?”
“Please,” you whispered, your attempts to pull away from Ransom as feeble as they were useless.
And then another scream was being wrenched from your raw throat as Steve hit you with his belt again, and again, and again.
He didn’t stop until your cries went quiet, your voice giving out as you violently trembled against the mattress. Your breathing was quick and shallow, adding to your mindless, disorientated state, and your back and ass were a mess of welts and cuts, already forming bruises and blood.
Chest heaving with exertion, Steve’s wild eyes slowly trailed over you. His free hand dropped to the tent growing at the front of his jeans and he groaned as he gave himself a squeeze through the thick denim.
“She’s got me so fucking hard, breaking her in like this,” he rasped, dropping the belt at his feet before he was crawling over you, knees framing yours as he rubbed a hand up the arch of your spine.
Your muted sound of agony was an insult to the staggering amount of pain you felt as Steve rubbed the open cuts and weeping wounds marring your back. When you felt him stretch out over you, drop his weight against your quaking body, and nuzzle his nose against your sweaty cheek, you closed your eyes against a new onslaught of tears and pressed your face into the scratchy blankets.
A sob caught in your throat as Steve guided his hard length between your legs, and then he was shoving into you forcefully, his groan of pleasure a hot puff of air against the curve of your jaw.
He was brutal as he fucked you, powerful hips slamming into your tender ass and lighting you up with a new wave of agony every time he drove his cock as deep as it could go. Steve reveled in your quiet little chirps and whimpers of pain, moaning as he buried his nose against the nape of your neck and gave your soft skin a hard bite.
“You’re gonna fucking feel me for days, doc. Inside and out.” Another sharp snap of his hips and he lingered, his cock twitching inside of you as Steve panted his pleasure. “Remember this, because this is what happens when you tell us no.”
He retreated briefly before pounding back into you, punching an agonized moan from between your lips as he hit your cervix.
“And it’ll get worse every time.” Another push and pull and a dirty grind and Steve was cumming with a groan, dropping his sweaty forehead to your shoulder as he pumped you full of his release. His hips didn’t stop moving until you could feel his spend oozing out around his softening cock and dripping down to pool beneath you on the bed.
It was quiet for a long moment, a buzzing in your head as you tried to ignore Steve’s hot pants against your skin as he regained his breath.
In addition to the sound of Steve recovering from his pleasure--from so violently using you--you heard something else, something you couldn’t quite place. At first, you chalked it up to just another symptom of the pain overtaking your body and the distress overriding your mind.
But as it grew louder, closer, you felt Steve go rigid against you, and that’s when you realized that it wasn’t just in your head, because he could hear it too.
A second later, it clicked, what it was that you were hearing.
The distant sound of sirens, quickly growing closer.
And then the crunch of multiple sets of tires over gravel sounded from the parking lot just outside, and Steve shoved away from you. Quickly doing up the front of his pants, he snatched the gun from Ransom, his own eyes as wide as the other man’s.
“Is that…” Ransom trailed off, his throat bobbing on an anxious swallow as his gaze moved past Steve, toward the covered windows. “How--”
“You fucking bitch,” Steve barked, lunging for you and dragging you up from the bed and against his chest with a violent yank. “You called the cops!”
“I-I didn’t,” you whispered.
And then you were crying out as Steve backhanded you hard, sending you crumpling to the floor as you held your face and felt the sting of a split lip and the sharp copper tang of blood on your tongue.
You heard the quiet click of the safety on a gun, and then Andy was darting in front of you, crowding you back against the wall and shielding you with his own body as he stared up at Steve.
“She fucking ratted us out,” Steve sneered.
“When?” Andy asked, shaking his head. “How?”
“She probably snuck using the motel phone when we were sleeping.”
“The only time she was awake without you and Drysdale, I was up with her. She was sick in the bathroom and then I cleaned her up and brought her back to bed. I was holding her the entire night, she didn’t move.”
Suddenly a new voice rang out, echoing over what sounded like a loudspeaker from outside, and making you all go quiet and still.
“This is the U.S. Marshal, we have the motel surrounded. You have one minute to surrender peacefully, or we’re coming in to get you.”
Steve hissed a string of curses, his face flushed red with anger as he raked his free hand through his hair, and in his distraction, he didn’t notice Andy slowly rising to his feet and then pouncing.
You watched them grapple with each other--for the gun--with a muted kind of horror, pushing yourself into the corner of the room and painfully pulling your knees into your chest to make yourself smaller as Ransom gazed between his fighting fellow convicts with wide eyes.
You jumped when the gun went off with a loud pop, watching as Andy stumbled back with a grunt, pressing his hands to his stomach as blood flowed over his fingers, quickly staining his hands and clothes red as he sank to the floor with a quiet, “Fuck.”
As Steve slowly turned your way, Andy sank back against the foot of the bed across from you, his frantic blue gaze finding yours as Steve raised his arm and pointed the gun at your head.
“I’m so sorry,” Andy whispered, one lone tear streaking down his cheek as he watched you with a sorrowful gaze.
You didn’t reply, didn’t even notice your own fresh flow of tears as you blinked up at Steve before closing your eyes and letting them stay that way, your body tense and waiting and ready for the end.
The soft metallic click of the gun chamber cocking had you inhaling a final, shaky breath, wishing for it to be quick and painless and desperately hoping your final plea, at least, would be honored by some greater power.
And then the motel room door burst open, splintered wood flying everywhere as bright, heavenly sunlight spilled in along with the flood of a tactical unit armed to the teeth.
The big, broad man leading the charge wasn’t dressed like the others. His blue jeans were worn, his motorcycle boots scuffed, and the combination of his denim shirt, bullet proof vest, and U.S. Marshal coat made him look even bigger up close as he expertly raised his gun at Steve and shot twice before the other man went sailing backward with the impact of it.
The rest of the agents made quick work of subduing Ransom, who didn’t even put up a fight, and Andy, who was weakly raising his bloody hands in a show of surrender.
You watched him as he was rolled onto his stomach, despite his gunshot wound, and handcuffed.
His eyes flickered up to you, desperate but also glimmering with relief. He murmured your name quietly, pleadingly. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to be with you.”
You blinked at him before turning away without a word, curling in on yourself and burying your face against your knees as you tried your best to ignore the flare of pain that rattled through you at the movement.
“You missed the fucking kill shot,” you heard Steve growl, the clink of metal sounding as he was handcuffed.
The same new voice from the loud speaker responded, but in person it was quieter and smooth as it rang with confidence and authority. “I wasn’t going for a kill shot. You’re not getting the easy way out. You’re going back to jail and you’re gonna rot there for the rest of your miserable life, like you deserve, you piece of shit.”
There was a wordless growl from Steve, and then that same quiet voice, this time tinged with disgust, spoke again.
“Get him out of my sight. All of them. Put them in separate vehicles, even the injured ones. They can get treated back at Steelridge.” There was a pause, and then the voice was softer than before. “But call a bus for her.”
Another loud flurry of movement, your hazy mind trying to slowly identify the sounds because it was all that it could handle at the moment.
Because the thought of this horrific, unspeakable ordeal really being over, of you being saved, was something you literally couldn’t comprehend.
Not after everything.
And the confusion of it, the distrust of it--the utter disbelief--had a thin, shaky whine rattling in your chest as you began to rock bath and forth, eyes burning as doing so made your eviscerated back and ass throb.
It went so quiet you thought that maybe you had passed out, and then you heard the quiet rustle of clothing, and felt a sudden soft, warmth envelope you, a pleasant musky scent--and the hint of cinnamon and sandalwood--filling your nose.
You jerked with a frightened whimper, hugging yourself tighter as you recoiled further against the wall, petrified.
“Shhh, you’re okay, sweetheart.”
For some reason the gentle reassurance in his voice only spurred on more tears, but it also had you hesitantly lifting your head, peeking up at this stranger--your savior--as you gave a quiet sniffle.
He was painfully handsome, his brown hair longer than most men wore it and curling around the collar of his shirt. From beneath a thick beard, his smile was soft and encouraging, and the kindness in his dark blue gaze made your vision blur with further evidence of your overwhelm.
Of your complete and utter relief.
He tugged his coat further up your body, until it was tucked up under your chin and covering your nakedness--your vulnerability--from his soft, unwandering gaze.
There was another beat of silence, and then he was saying your full name, with your doctor title prefacing it, but still framing it as a question to confirm your identity.
You nodded, fingers curling into the collar of his coat as you held onto it for dear life, like it could somehow protect you from whatever came next.
Because you had no idea what that would be.
You hadn’t expected a next.
“I’m Ari Levinson,” he introduced himself, dipping his head to draw level with your watery gaze. “You’re safe now. An ambulance is on its way and we’re gonna get you taken care of, okay? It’s over now.”
The sound that spilled from your lips in response to his words was inhuman - a hitched, shaky wail of hysteria as you pressed your trembling fingers to your lips, screwed your eyes shut, and broke down.
“Shh, you’re okay,” Ari murmured, and you heard the hesitancy in his voice as he asked, “Can I touch you?”
You were too distraught to reply, but when you felt the tentative weight of Ari’s big hand on your shoulder, the way his touch was so soft it was almost imperceptible as it rubbed up and down your arm, you whimpered, shifting closer to him and desperately seeking comfort.
Seeking a gentle, innocent touch--real consolation and solace--from someone who didn’t want to use you or hurt you.
“You’re safe now,” Ari reaffirmed on a quiet rumble as you pressed your face to his firm chest and sank into his strong hold.
You gasped sharply as his hand went to smooth between your shoulder blades, and he stilled, shifting until he could see your back. He quietly hissed at the sight of the contusions and blood criss-crossing your flesh.
You whined in humiliation, trying to push away from him, but Ari hushed you quietly, touching your arms and giving them a comforting squeeze.
“I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I’m so sorry,” he whispered again against the top of your head as you sagged against him.
“How did you find us?” you asked softly, sniffling as you straightened into a sit. You were grateful as his hands remained on your arms, helping to hold you up as your drained body trembled from weakness.
“Your employee ID badge from Steelridge. They install trackers in all of them for security purposes.”
You blinked at Ari, your mind going quiet as you thought back to what felt like an eternity ago, when you were trapped in that prison hallway with Andy and a group of violent criminals slowly closing in on you.
You remembered the internal battle you had waged, agonizing over whether or not to use your badge to get both you and Andy to safety. Even in a moment like that, some distant part of you was terrified and resistant to breaking the rules.
But you had.
Just like he knew you would.
And that was the beginning of the end of your life as you knew it.
So in this moment, as Ari quietly murmured your name with concern lacing his words, you realized that it was because of you that they had gotten caught.
It was because of you, Andy’s bargaining chip and the prized little plaything they had all been so greedy for, that all three of those monsters were on their way back to the place they had wanted to escape most.
And, despite everything, maybe even because of it, you laughed.
It was a garbled, quaking thing, your laugh, but you couldn’t stop it, just like you couldn’t stop the way it slowly morphed into a body shaking sob, and then another. You covered your mouth with your hands, frantically trying to keep your noises at bay, but then Ari was pulling you against his chest and speaking quiet words of comfort against your ear, somehow making the frenzy in your mind and the lump of emotion in your throat slowly begin to recede.
You stopped crying by the time the paramedics arrived, and although Ari was reluctant to move away so they could treat you, he gave them space but lingered close the entire time.
A few minutes later, when they gave you a shot of morphine to help with the pain, you felt a different kind of numbness than you were used to--a pleasant and promising one--slowly trickle through you.
Once your initial treatment was finished, the paramedics helped you onto a stretcher, instructing you to lay on your side as they covered you with a blanket and carefully wheeled you outside.
You winced at the brightness of the sun, but relished in the warmth of it beating down on you after the last however many hours of darkness.
You got a glimpse of the three no longer escaped cons on your way to the waiting ambulance.
Ransom secured in the back of one U.S. Marshal SUV, pouting and then scowling as he caught sight of you.
Steve was next, his lips curling into a sneer as he watched you go by from his own temporary prison.
And finally Andy, slumped in the back of another SUV, his gaze unblinking and mournful as he watched you get further and further away from him.
You shuddered, feeling sleepy as the drugs began to take effect, your eyes growing heavy as you were loaded into the back of the ambulance.
You blinked your tired gaze open to find Ari hovering over you. His hand found yours and gave it a gentle squeeze as his lips split into a small, warm smile beneath his beard. “You take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be by to check on you later, once I wrap up everything at the prison.”
He went to step away, but you held his hand as tight as you could in your weakened state as you whispered, “No! Wait, please don’t leave me.”
Because something about Ari, despite the fact that he was a complete stranger, despite everything you had been through in the past day--including Andy’s brutal betrayal--made you feel safe.
And the thought of losing that feeling of safety right now had panic swelling within you.
Ari stilled at your distressed plea. His features went soft at the frightened look on your face as he glanced up at the paramedic a few feet away in question.
She shrugged. “Up to you, but we need to leave, so make a decision.”
Eyes finding their way back to your pleading gaze, Ari smiled at you reassuringly, reaching for the two-way radio clipped to his belt and raising it to his mouth to speak.
“Hey Jensen, I’m gonna do a ride along to the hospital. I want you to oversee the delivery of perpetrators back to Steelridge, and don’t leave until they’ve all been processed. And have my vehicle waiting for me at the hospital for later, okay?”
“You got it, boss,” a different voice responded lightly. “I’ll text you updates as I have them.”
With Ari’s decision made and orders given, the paramedic hustled to close the back doors of the ambulance before moving toward the front of the bus. She signaled to her partner that they were ready to go, and then the vehicle was lurching into motion, crunching over gravel as the overhead siren began to wail and you cleared the motel parking lot before settling into a smooth ride on the open road.
Sleep called to you more strongly now, your body finally numb in a blissful kind of way--at long last--and your mind just as pleasantly hazy.
Ari leaned over from his seat along the wall and lifted his free hand to join the other, gently cupping your hand in his warm, strong grip. “Go on, rest now, sweetheart.”
“You won’t leave me?” you murmured softly, your words slurred with the impending promise of sleep.
You got a final glimpse of Ari’s soft smile before your eyes were closing and staying that way, your mind still aware enough to feel the careful squeeze he gave your hand as he replied.
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
And as Ari’s warm voice washed over you, you felt a familiar feeling, distant and buried so deep within you that it took you a moment to place what it was.
It was hope.
And it was just a small flicker, a fragile, tentative glimmer.
But it was there.
And it was yours.
Hoooooe’kay. Omg. Wow. This one, y’all. First, I really had no intention for it to be THIS dark and angsty. My initial idea was for more of a soft!dark but eventual consensual gang bang with a few bad but fine AF men. But then this happened, and our sweet Reader was traumatized way more than I anticipated. And, well, after all that, she deserved the hope and a hint of a happy ending with the kind of person who would treat her right. 🥺
So yes, we will have a follow up to this story so we can check in with Reader to see how her healing journey is going and if Ari is a part of it. (Spoiler: He so fucking is. 😘)
Also sooooo many thanks and much love to my hoemate @drabblewithfrannybarnes for giving me the brilliant idea for the ending with U.S. Marshal!Ari, even if she thinks she didn’t lol. And lots of love and gratitude to @river-soul and @navybrat817 for letting me pterodactyl screech in their DMs about this story lol. I love all of you so much, thank you! ❤️❤️❤️
Finally, please leave a hoe your thoughts, feedback, and feeeeels, okay?! It gives me more life than you know and motivates me to keep spinning stories so we can be ruined--and geek out--together. Thank you for reading this. ilu ❤️🙏🏻
I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @sirisshamelesshoelibrary and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘
Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. Reblogs are most welcome though! ❤️
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How Do You Want Me?
Pairing: Steve x Reader
Warnings: language, sex, lots of sex, mouthy angry Steve, slight slut-shaming, breeding kink if you squint, cream pies
Word Count: 1,319
Synopsis: Steve hates you, right?
A/N: This is a rewrite of this drunk drabble I wrote for @shotsbyshae forever ago. This was fun to do it’s not edited or beta read so all mistakes are mine. Is it better than the original? Maybe. I think it is that's what counts
Steve’s hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the high-pitched moan that pierced the night air. Thick digits sliding slowly from your lips, dragging roughly down before wrapping around your throat. Restricting the air you so desperately needed.
Hips pumping. Skin slapping. Steves cock driving into you at a punishing pace, grunting against your ear in time with each thrust. “You’re so god damn loud,” he scolded with a growl. “So fucking hungry for my cock right?”
You nodded, tears leaking from your eyes as he squeezed a little too hard. A groan of pleasure slipped from him as you let out a choked moan. Fucking Steve Rogers was nothing like people imagined it was.
Steve was the golden child.
America’s brightest beacon.
A dancing monkey for the amusement of others.
And Steve hated it all.
He’d begun to despise the spotlight long before he’d showed up in this century and your very arrival to the team, someone who didn’t shy away from the spotlight, grated on his last nerve. You’d become a thorn in his side and it wasn’t just because you were clearly Tony’s favorite, from the first moment he meets you with your fake smile and friendly tone of voice Steve despised everything you were.
It didn’t matter what you did it was always met with bile from Steve. On missions he was short with you, snapping out orders and sneering with a condescending, “Think you can do that?” Pushing you out of the way, yanking you back into a dark corner his grip bruising your arm, Steve was being purposefully harsh for reasons that the rest of the team had no idea about. But you did.
Freedom incarnate had a dark side and you were the one who always managed to bring it out. Seething, writhing darkness he suppressed on a daily basis, let loose whenever he got you alone. Steve wouldn’t hold back. He didn’t have to because he absolutely hated you so there was no reason to be gentile.
Even after the first time, he’d pinned you in the stairwell, fucking you against the concrete wall like a man possessed his fingers left familiar bruises. He’d left you spent, cum dripping from your still spasming pussy on the cement stairs. Knees scuffed and hands raw he sneered down at you before buttoning his fly and returning to the press conference downstairs.
Steves loathing of you didn’t cease after that day.
But the darkness inside of you was awoken by his own. So now when he’d corner you, you’d always look up at him with pouty eyes. His thumb briefly tracing your bottom lip parting them and running the pad against your tongue before you’d ask, “How do you want me?” And he’d knowingly smirk.
To you and the rest of the world, Steve was perfection incarnate. A pouty bottom lip that just begged for your teeth, his eyes shining bright with so much intensity and emotion it was almost blinding. Muscles that stretched and moved like tensile steel beneath flesh hot to the touch and a cock that made you forget your name.
There was violence in his grip. Barely restrained and itching to be let loose as he held you with demanding and desperate touches. Fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pulling and twisting your hair around his fist bending and twisting your body into position. His perfect pearl white teeth dragging against the curve of your neck before perfect pouty lips both saccharine sweet and bitter like poison slotted over your own with a growl.
“I fucking hate you,” he’d snarl against your lips.
“Fuck me,” you demanded, a whine escaping as his fingers probed past the pink cotton panties before thrusting into your soaking wet core.
When you were together you were his and his alone.
Steve owned you when that door closed and you gladly gave yourself over. You wanted to feel him. You wanted to take everything he had to offer. You wanted it all and more.
“You’re so fucking soft,” he hummed a touch of admiration in his voice. Pulling away leaving you trembling on the verge of orgasm, his hand fisting his cock covered with your slick and giving a few quick pumps before turning you over and pushing you face down against the bed. The head of his cock pressing against you again and he groaned, “Pussy so wet and hungry for my cock.”
Rocking his hips the head just parting your lips and making the breath shudder from your lungs, desperation coloring your voice in a whine at his teasing. Steve’s hips surged forward, filling you again as his hand tangled in your hair, craning your neck back to look at him with lust-heavy eyes, “Such a hungry slut.”
“Steve,” you whimpered, your own fingers reaching down and circling your clit. He pushed your head down, releasing your hair to grip your hips and start a punishing pace, the slap of skin sharp in the quiet room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted as each thrust pushed the air from your lungs.
He pulled you against him then, hands tight against your arms before his knees settled into the soft mattress. Cock fucking up into you with the same rough strokes, bending your back against him your hands reaching back and yanking at the short strands of hair. Steve’s hand slipped around your neck again, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he panted softly, “I could fucking kill you right now you know. I could do it and you’d never even fight back.”
You cried out, low and needy as your fingers rubbed against your clit harder and faster a choked sob slipping past your lips and you felt Steves smile. Steve could kill you. He could and you’d fucking let him.
“You fucking love it don’t you,” he purred, wet fingers circling your clit a little faster making your eyes roll into the back of your head and your pussy begin to flutter as your orgasm drew closer. “Fuck, squeezing me so tight. Cock drunk slut want’s me to fill her up? Yeah?”
He hummed against you, voice taking on that familiar desperate edge and hips rolling a little harder and more sloppy than before, “Fucking beg for it. Cum on my cock and beg.”
The last ounce of your dignity left with that moment, in a babble of words you begged for it, “Please Steve. Please. I need it. Need your cum so bad. Fill me up, please, fuck please Steve.”
Steve moaned loud, the sound vibrating through your whole body as a shudder ran through you. You shook as every muscle in your body tightened down, awash in pleasure that had your mouth opening in a soundless cry at the same moment Steve grunted into your hair, “Oh fuck.”
Early morning light filtered into the windows pulling Steve awake before you. Running a hand through his hair and scrubbing his face he sighed heavily before sitting up and looking down at you. Reaching out and touching your softly, fingertips lightly tracing against your face, the curve of your neck littered with love bites and bruises before leaning down. Impossibly long lashes giving you butterfly kisses against your flesh as he trailed his lips over your cheek, fingers brushing the hair from your eyes.
Steve hated you.
A smile tugged at your lips as he left the bed and you rolled into his vacated warm spot, fingers trailing after him as he picked up his clothes and prepared for his morning run.
Fuck if you didn’t hate him too.
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𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐚/𝐧: 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! 𝐢𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!
𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰, (𝟏𝟖+), 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝟏𝟖
𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏
𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐥𝐲 • 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
giving bucky head in the morning
riding bucky’s thigh (sugar daddy!bucky)
teasing bucky during a meeting (mob!bucky)
dancing for bucky before going down on him
back alley sex with bucky (40s!bucky)
bucky fucking you in front of his men (mob!bucky)
giving bucky a blowjob after class (professor!bucky)
bucky fucking you after clubbing (best friend!bucky)
bucky fucking you in the bathroom (biker!bucky)
bucky helping you study for your chemistry test
fucking bucky behind your husband’s back (plumber!bucky)
fucking your dad’s best friend, bucky
going down on bucky while he’s driving
fucking bucky in the library (college boyfriend!bucky)
getting finger fucked by steve (nomad!steve)
blowing off steam with bucky and steve
getting punished by mob!bucky and mob!steve
sebastian teases you while you’re on a call
honeymoon beach sex with sebastian
sebastian eating you out by the pool
airplane sex with sebastian
sebastian fingering you under the table
kitchen sex with sebastian
riding chris’s face for the first time
chris fucking you before the wedding
chris helping you to cum for the first time
a quickie with chris before dinner with his family
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𝙜𝙪𝙮𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙜𝙚 ; 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀
summary┃there’s nothing quite like getting scolded, punished, and fucked by your best friend’s dad.
pairing┃bestfriend’sdad!steve rogers x f!reader
word count┃2,552 words
warnings┃significant (but undefined — reader in her 20’s) age gap, peter parker & pietro maximoff mention [aged up], authority kink, heavy daddy kink, teasing, mocking, slight degradation, praise kink, jealous!steve, corruption kink but very slight, breeding kink, creampie, choking kink, pubic hair ‘cause it’s normal, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
notes┃man i bit my lip so hard writing this
It was a hot, scorching day. The suns rays licking your skin as you emerged from the pool; wet and temporarily cooled off.
Grabbing the towel that was sitting on your chair you began drying off your wet skin, your friend trailed right behind you doing the same.
You were lucky she had a pool, it was probably the only thing saving you on such a hot day. Otherwise you would surely be inside, sucking on a popsicle and complaining about the heat to her.
“The boys should be here soon, I think they stopped to grab some beers.” Your friend, Luna, said, checking her phone through her sunglasses.
You hummed, nodding your head as you finished the last gulp of your water.
She was excited; the boys being Piet and Peter, an odd duo.
Luna was convinced that Peter was in love with you, and that she was in love with Piet.
He did have puppy dog eyes for her, though.
Peter? Well, you just weren’t that interested in him.
He was a great guy, super sweet and smart, but he just wasn’t what you looked for in a man.
“I’m gonna grab another glass of water, you want one?” You ask her as you finish towelling off the rest of your body.
She shakes her head, “I think they’re here, I’m gonna go run out and grab them.”
You hum, nodding your head before making your way into her massive, way-too-big house and sliding into the kitchen.
It never failed to amaze you, you admire the marble plastered over the counters and the mouldings on the wall.
Her father is the CEO of Rogers Inc., one of the largest corporations in greedy America; so it makes sense.
A shudder ran through your body at the thought of her dad, it was so wrong to fantasize over your best friend’s father, but it was hard not to.
Steve Rogers was the man of your dreams for nothing other than the fact that he was older, much, much, much older than you.
You grabbed the crystal pitcher out of the large fridge a shiver running down your bikini clad body before you spun around, gasping and nearly dropping your glass at the sight of Steve standing at the entrance of the kitchen in a pair of loose jeans and a white shirt.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, honey.” He chuckled, making his way in.
“Oh no, it’s-it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting you, is all, Mr. Rogers.” Your voice shakes, intimidated by the powerful man that now stands in front of you.
“You can call me Steve, sweetheart. You know that.” The way the pet-name falls off his lip, accompanied by a subtle smirk, it makes your mind wader as your eyes scan him up and down.
You nod your head, finally mustering the strength to pour yourself a glass.
“Just gonna get by ya’,” you gasp when you feel his warm hand on your cool skin.
He scoots by you, body just barely brushing against yours as he grabs a beer. You watch him open it, popping the tab, “have fun with the boys.” He winks, taking a sip before strutting off deeper into the house.
You never thought of yourself as that type of person, to go after a father, a dilf if you will, but the permanent imprint of his broad shoulders ran laps in your mind as you walked back outside in hopes of distracting yourself.
Your name was called, “hey Peter!” You greeted him with a hug, watching the way his eyes ran down your body.
Would Steve’s eyes wander? They didn’t in the kitchen. Maybe he thinks you’re just a kid.
“How are you?” The question caught you off-guard, but then you’re reminded of where you are.
You have to shake your thought away before you’re smiling, diving into the pool and trying to fight the ache that’s settled between your thighs just how you wish Steve would.
“Luna are you sure?” Peter sounds worried as he squeaks out his question, she just swats her hand at him, scoffing as if the question was rude.
“Of course I’m sure,” you’re following close behind her as you tip-toe past her dad’s, Steve’s, office.
“So he won’t be mad?” Peter interjects, “he won’t ever know.” She points a finger at him as his eyes go wide. Piet just shoves Peter lightly, “it’ll be fine, just keep your voice down.” He reminds his brown haired friend as you roll your eyes.
The plan was to sneak the two boys inside, over for the night, but even they knew how strict Steve was.
Not to mention the fact that Peter looked like he was about to shit himself in fear at the mere thought of Steve finding out.
“Guys, we’re almost there, okay?” Luna says as she turns around walking backwards behind a corner.
“All we gotta do is-”
Suddenly her voice is cut off, a small oh falling from her mouth as Steve rounds the corner with a disappointed look on his face. He looks from his daughter, to the two boys, and lastly, at you.
“All you gotta do is what?” He challenges with authority in his voice, folding his thick arms over his muscular chest.
You gulp, heart hammering in your chest, but unlike the other three, it’s not from fear.
“Hey dad,” Luna tries to put on her fake sweet voice, but Steve doesn’t buy it, instead he just raises his hand and sends her to her room as she huffs and puffs.
He kicks the two boys out next, giving them a warning that’ll surely scar them for a few months.
You’re all that’s left in the tall hallway as he makes his way over to you.
“I always thought you were a bit of a troublemaker,” he hums, coming to stand directly in front of you.
Despite your own stature, he was still taller than you and had an air of authority consuming him.
You could feel your pulse in your ears, nothing but a pair of denim shorts covering your bottoms and your dried bikini top exposed your undulating chest.
“Mr. Rogers I-,” but you were just cut off again.
He craned his neck down, rich mahogany permeating your nose as you inhaled sharply.
“It seems like you can’t seem to remember to call me Steve,” he hums, “maybe you could call me Daddy instead.”
Your are pupils blow, lust-blown and wide as you catch his own darkening eyes.
“How’s that sound, sweetheart?” He was egging you on, gauging your reaction as you took a sharp breathe in through your nose.
“Good,” you replied meekly, not trusting your voice to deliver anything else.
He wasn’t pleased with the response, cocking his head to the side as if to say.....
There it was, the one word he wanted to hear slip past your lips.
“Atta girl.” He winks, the simple praise affecting you much more than you thought it would’ve; but it drives you absolutely wild.
You wonder what he’ll do next, what his next move could be.
He just steps away from the wall, “you fuckin’ him?” It catches you off-guard, eyes going wide in confusion.
“That Parker kid, are you fucking him?” He asks, tone calm and confident as he interrogates you.
You shake your head, “no.” You reply comes naturally, there’s nothing to lie about, the sexual energy is prevalent and you’re having a hard time keeping your thighs from burning.
He smirks, “good girl, a guy like him wouldn’t know how to treat a girl like you anyways.”
There’s a voice in your head that telling you, screaming at you that this is your best friends father.
It only feeds your hunger, fuelling the fire that ignited long ago.
“I don’t fuck guys my age.” You spit back, enjoying the way his body stiffens and how he runs his tongue along his bottom lip.
“‘Course not, why would a pretty little thing stoop to their level?” It’s a rhetorical question, obviously, but then suddenly it hits you; hits you like a bus going sixty miles an hour.
He’s going to fuck you. He’s going to fuck you while your best friend is in the room next door.
“Maybe because there’s no one who I’m really interested in and you know,” your voice trails off as you find your confidence.
“I’ve got needs just like everyone else.”
You can see the twitch in his pants, the growl that bubbles from deep within his chest as he shoves you back against the cool wall.
“You know damn well what you do to me, don’t you?” It’s a low snarl as his nose brushes your jaw.
“Know how fuckin’ hard you get me every time you’re prancin’ around my house in your little shorts. Biting your lip; talkin’ about how fuckin’ horny you are and how you wish you’d have an older guy, an older guy like me, take care of you.”
Goosbumps erupt over your skin as he whispers those words in your ear, neatly trimmed beard brushing over your sensitive skin.
“Honey, I’ve got exactly what you’re lookin’ for.” Before his lips were on yours, thigh wedged between your legs as you gave into the feeling of him.
Suddenly there was a ratting, footsteps coming closer as Steve took a reluctant step away from you and pressed his index finger against his lips.
You locked your lips, nodding lightly as you tried to steady your breathing as you listened for the footsteps—his daughters footsteps, your best friends footsteps.
They sounded further away, disappearing somewhere deeper into the house as Steve sidled up to you again.
A gasp left your lips when you felt his hand on your ass, squeezing at the flesh.
“Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed, “don’t wanna get caught now, do we?” He smirked, pulling you flush against him as you whimpered.
Steve kicked his office door open gently, the two of you stumbling into it.
He nearly glared at you, “wrong.”
You gulped, “Steve,” but he just tsked you and chuckled darkly.
“Baby girl, you just can’t learn, can you?” He strides over to you, harshly grabbing your chin between his fingers as he angles your head upwards.
You hiss when he pushes your smaller body against the frame of the door, “and Daddy doesn’t like repeating himself.”
The ache between your thighs is undeniable and you need nothing more than to feel the weight of him between them.
“I-I’m sorry, Daddy,” you reply in a hoarse voice. He perks up at the sound of his name, but it doesn’t seem to change the course of plan he’s already made up.
“It’s too late for apologies, honey. And I think you know what happens to bad girls,” he mocks condescendingly, but it only spurs you on.
Steve kicks your feet apart gently, denim jeans already unbuttoned as he snakes a hand down them.
“Let me guess,” he hums. “No one’s ever been able to give you what you want?” His fingers find your clit through your swimsuit as you moan.
“Nothing but a series of five minute fucks that leave you unsatisfied, huh?” Your heart is hammering in your chest as you feel heat rise to your face.
And it’s embarrassing how close you already are.
“Mhmm,” is all you can spit out before his fingers are diving between your folds, moving your swimsuit to the suit and stuffing you full of his fingers.
“Oh I know honey,” he cooes. “It must be so hard finding a guy your age to fill your needs.”
When you open your eyes at his words, you can see how dark his are. It’s not dark or deceitful, it’s lust and desire.
“Yeah,” you whisper pathetically as he curls his fingers inside of you.
His hand is around your neck not even seconds later, lips against yours as you manage to find his cock through his pants; palming him as he groans into your mouth.
“Won’t ever need to find a guy your age now that you have me, honey.” He purrs against your lips, a shudder running down your spine.
“Now be a good girl and cum all over my fingers.”
It’s an explosion of pressure, the moan you want to release never comes with the weight of Steve’s hand wrapped around your throat.
It’s leg shaking, the pleasure you’re feeling before Steve removes his fingers to lick them clean.
“Look at you, honey. Look at how drenched you are.” And you are, damp from squirting as you’re still tightly holding onto his shirt practically begging for more.
“Turn around,” he purrs, undoing your bikini top as it falls to the ground.
Your nipples perk up at the cool air, already aroused as he pinches one of them.
When you’re pressed up against the door again, you whine, you audibly whine as he pulls your bottoms down your legs.
“What a perky little ass,” he smirks, smacking it as you hear the sound of his zipper and the clink of his belt hitting the floor.
He hums, running his hands all over your body as he takes the time to memorize all your curves, ridges, and bumps that you hate.
“Absolutely perfect,” you’re flush against his warm skin.
Steve’s fingers run down your tummy, resting right above the hair that decorates your mound; not fazed for a second.
“And all for me to ruin,” he hums before you feel him lining himself up at your entrance.
When he pushes in, you know that he’s ruined all men for you.
When he bottoms out, you know you’ll never get this feeling with anyone else.
When he thrusts into you, his fingers digging into your skin—you know you’ll crave him.
“Takin’ all of me so fuckin’ well,” he grunts, anchoring his feet on the floor as he snakes his arm around your neck; your chin resting against his elbow.
“Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard, have you full to the brim.”
You gasp, arching your back and bending your knees as he pounds into you with no other motivate than making the two of you come.
“What a good little girl you’re bein’ for Daddy,” he rasps in your ear, “can feel you squeezin’ me, know you wanna cum.”
You whimper, “yeah.”
“Then let go, cum all over Daddy’s cock.” Is all he can say before you’re squeezing him as he holds you upright.
You can feel him shudder and shake as he comes, biting your shoulder before he slips out of you; along with his come that now trickles down your thighs.
He watches it leak out of you, catching his breath before spinning you around to face him.
“No more guys your age, yeah?” He asks, “no more guys my age.” You reply, smirking as you admire his physique.
“Good girl, let Daddy take care of you and you’ll never have anything to worry about again.”
That night you laid in his bed, curled up against the father of your best friend with her just a mere few rooms over as your phone buzzed with texts from her about how much she hated how her dad kicked you out.
What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
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