#yes the avengers care about bruce

[tallysescape]

Jason Todd is a guillotine and the Joker is Mary Antoinette

also I will die on the hill that Batman’s morals kinda suck. He wants himself up on this pedestal of doing no wrong per say, when if he did one wrong he would prevent hundreds of others. Instead he sits by in his proverbial throne above everyone else like an old man playing chess

…ah okay so. let's talk about why his morals are where they are. as we all know his parents were killed at gunpoint, he couldn’t do anything. this cements a deep, personal distaste towards guns/lethal force/killing. when he becomes batman, when he puts on the cowl and goes out to protect people from that helplessness, to save as many as he can from that pain, he does it without needless, irreparable violence. killing is not an option for him, not after that.

but that doesn’t mean he’s ignorant. that doesn’t mean he wants to be praised or idolized or placed on a pedestal, that doesn’t mean he does no wrong.

bruce has made a ton of mistakes! he’s messed up a lot! big time! he’s flawed and complicated and messy and KNOWS THAT! he knows it when he falls out with dick, he knows it when jason is murdered, he knows it when the Red Hood shows up. he knows with tim and damian too. he’s highly aware of his failures. ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ are this mans mortal enemy.

bruce cares so deeply and he shows it as best he can. he’s a protector, his work humbles him, he’s his own worst critic. he doesn’t want to be placed on a pedestal and honestly i’m willing to bet he thinks the city would be better off without him! gotham’s villains see the batman as a challenge and that’s why they keep coming. sure yeah, killing the joker or any other criminal would prevent hundreds of crimes, it would save tons of innocent people from hurting, it’s an easy, full proof fix. but that’s not what the story is about.

to bruce, at the end of the day you’d have to live with the knowledge that you can never take it back a lethal strike, and that scares him. no killing is a limit he set for himself, a restraint to keep him from going too far, because if he starts he won’t be able to stop and he knows that.

he tries to instill that belief into his kids, because he knows that they can be better than he is, that they are better than he is, despite all the shit each of them have gone through. he doesn’t want them to loose that light y’know? that hope that they carried with them and brought into his life. because that’s what batman is, right? hope. hope for gotham, hope for people. hope for the future.

but of course, pushing his mortals onto them does a bit more harm than good. it’s what eventually drove dick and jason away. it’s what eventually led to a massive falling out and a heartbreaking murder a very dark time for gotham. because when jason died, that breaks bruce. he is furious and violent and hurt and he takes all of that pain and throws it mercilessly into batman. this is probably the closest he’s ever been to the brink and there’s no one to pull him back, which is when tim drake shows up with his camera and his photos and his wit and his stubborn attitude and his hope.

when jason did come back to life, he wanted vengeance, he wanted to kill the joker, he wanted to get rid of criminals permanently, to make sure no one would be hurt like him ever again. he wanted to kill the joker and bruce wouldn’t let him. he doesn’t agree with jason’s methods, but that doesn’t mean he cares any less. that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t burn down the world for his kids. all members of the batfam want to protect their city and they’re doing it as best they can. each of them have their own method, each of them are their own hero, and yes it clashes with bruce but it doesn’t change the fact that in the end, it boils down to the genuine need to help people, to make life better.

now, about the last bit, just. when has bruce ever been able to sit by and watch? all these kids running around with makeshift capes and iron wills, when has he sat back and just watched it happen? if all bruce did was observe from above, then we wouldn’t have batman. no, bruce sees the violence and stands and does something about it, tries to break the cycle.

he sees dick, angry and hurt and grieving, with a burning need for justice and the drive to go out and find it himself, and sees himself in this ten year old kid. so he does something about it, because it’s too late for him but maybe he can make it better for the kid. he takes dick in and teaches him, watches him make a name for himself. Robin and then Nightwing.

he sees jason, who is literally is trying to steal the batmobils tires. who’s standoffish and weary and seen the worst that gotham has to offer but is still kind. and batman picks him up by the scruff and takes him home and absorbs him into the family, teaching him to be robin and mourning when he’s gone.

he sees tim—or better, tim is the one sees him—with his unshakable faith and terrible self esteem and hopeful, calculating eyes.

he sees stephanie and cass and duke and damian, he sees them all and he teaches each them everything he knows, trains them to the absolute best of his ability and tells them over and over that bats don’t kill, but in the end that’s all he can do. it’s a choice that they have to make when it comes down to it. a bar they have to set for themselves.

bruce is not a cold, unfeeling asshole with a superiority complex. despite the act, he isn’t. he’s just some guy dressed like a bat trying to make this house a home. if he was an unfeeling asshole with a superiority complex, then he wouldn’t go around adopting kids left and right. he could’ve just let them run off on the streets, trying to fight crime and solve mysteries all on their own. but he didn’t. he wouldn’t. and that says something.

#dances dances #i’m. very passionate about batman #maybe a little insane even #but yeah #he learns from his children and he learns from his mistakes and he cares and he hopes and he loves #yes bruce has messed up yes he’s done things that hurt the family but he’s not heartless #yes his refusal to kill the joker strained his relationship with jason but that doesn’t mean he was outright DEFENDING joker #yes jason is also valid for wanting to kill the joker and wanting to avenge himself??? like #jason isn’t heartless either #yeah he used lethal force and was willing to kill but that doesn’t mean he cared less about protecting people #he still wanted to keep gotham safe and he did it how he thought was right #the batfam is messy and complicated and their morals are all valid in their own right and it’s wonderful?? #anyways uh #yeah #i like them a lot #i had to have this proof read by my friend bc i didn’t know if. i knew what i was talking about hshdhHSHDF #shout out to my bff jayme for listening to me ramble for two hours

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.

𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!

“The girl’s ready, Captain.”

Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”

“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve’s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.

His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.

That left Steve. But Steve had this.

I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.

Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.

And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.

You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.

“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”

Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.

“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.

Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.

And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.

After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.

And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.

“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”

Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…

“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.

He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.

“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”

“Get on the bed.”

“H-Huh?”

“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”

Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.

And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.

Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.

Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.

What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.

“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.

The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.

“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.

You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”

Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.

“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.

“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”

“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”

Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”

He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.

“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”

Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.

“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”

You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.

He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.

“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.

“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.

It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.

“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”

You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.

“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”

“Take it out.”

A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.

“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.

“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”

He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.

“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”

“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.

“Stroke it.” He instructs you.

You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”

“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”

You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.

“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”

Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.

“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”

You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.

He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.

“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.

Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.

“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”

“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”

Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?

He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.

“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”

“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”

Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.

Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.

“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”

You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.

Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.

But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.

“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.

“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”

There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”

“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”

Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.

Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.

He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.

He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.

“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.

“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.

“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”

He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.

Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.

“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.

With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.

It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.

You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.

“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”

It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.

He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.

“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.

You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,” you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”

Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.

“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”

His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.

“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”

With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.

“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me.”

You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.

“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.

“You’ve never fingered yourself?”

“No!”

“Tell me why not.”

You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”

A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?” His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”

The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.

“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.

Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”

You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.

“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”

This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.

“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”

He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”

It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.

And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.

“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.

He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.

“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.

“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.

“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”

You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.

“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”

His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.

“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”

You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”

“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.

“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.

Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.

Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.

But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.

He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”

Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…

He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…

“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”

How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.

“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.

“N-No, Captain.”

“Why not?”

“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.

Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.

“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.

Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.

Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.

He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.

Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.

He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.

He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.

“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.

He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.

He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.

Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.

He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.

Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.

“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.

“Yes.”

You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.

You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.

“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”

A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.

He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.

Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.          

“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”

You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.

“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.

The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).

You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.

“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”

He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.

“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.

Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.

The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.

He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You’ve passed out.

“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.

“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.

It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.

“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.

“I-It hurts!”

“Address me properly.”

“C-Captain, it hurts!”

He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”

Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.

“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”

Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.

“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”

You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”

Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!

With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.

“Now you can scream.”

“Huh?”

He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.

A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.

“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”

Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.

“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.

“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”

Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.

I deserve this, he thinks to himself.

He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.

“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”

You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”

“Answer me!”

“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.

Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”

The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…

For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.

“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.

“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”

Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.

He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.

“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.

He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”

You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.

“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”

He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.

“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –

“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.

“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”

“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.

“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”

“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”

 Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.

“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.

You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.

He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.

Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.

With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.

He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.

“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”

This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.

“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.

With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air.  It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.

“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”

It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.

“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”

“Wh-What?”

He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.

He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.

“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”

Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.

“Use your words.”

“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”

You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.

“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.

“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.

Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”

You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.

You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.

All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.

He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.

“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”

“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”

He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.

“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”

“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”

He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.

And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.

“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”

You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”

“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.

But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.

“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”

You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”

“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”

Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”

“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.

“Wh-What–”

“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”

Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”

He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.

“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”

Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.

 With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.

Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.

“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”

Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”

Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”

“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

“N-No, I–”

He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.

“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.

“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”

You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.

The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.

“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.

“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.

Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.

Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.

***

It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.

The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.

“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.

“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”

The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.

“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”

“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”

They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.

“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.

His beautiful, broken little bride.

“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”

Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.

Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.

He deserved this.

AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.

ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

[dc-marvel-life]

You Are My Family Now

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: Natasha is dating someone that the team does not like and tries to get Natasha together with Bruce.

Word Count: ~1.5K

A/N: This is for @waltermis. I saw that you looking for a story like this, and I love the idea so much I made it. Lisichka - little fox, I found this online so I am not 100% sure if it means little fox.

Warnings: The team is mean

You are an ex-assassin/spy for hire who was awfully good at her job. Your biggest enemy was the Avengers, but they never were about to spot you. You caused many injuries and near-death experiences for them, so you were on their naughty list. 

No one in the world was able to get close enough to catch you, well no one but Natasha Romanoff. You also have a soft spot for you. You could never pinpoint exactly why but you had the biggest crush on her. It was the way her body moved against you. It was always a dance between you too, but you always got away. You couldn’t tell if you were just that skilled or she let you go on purpose. 

You thought that she liked the cat and mouse game that you both played just as much as you do. It was also the way she talked to you. No matter what the situation is or what you said, she always had a sassy comeback that made your heart skip a beat. 

— 

It all changed one night in Paris. You were working a job where you needed to take out a mob boss who was staying at a hotel nearby. You were just about to walk up and take him out when Natasha came out of nowhere and stopped you. 

A fight ensued and you got badly injured. You couldn’t finish the mission with how bad the wound was. You needed to get to your safe house immediately and take care of the wound before you bleed out. You somehow managed to get to your safe house alive, but you weren’t alone. Natasha was able to follow you back.

“Looks like you got sloppy there Silver Fox,” Natasha says once she enters your safe house with a gun in hand. You smile at the way she says your code name. She says it with so much lust behind it. This time you couldn’t say anything smart back at her because you were bleeding to death.

Natasha looked at you and saw that you were in real pain. You are lying on the floor with your hand on the wound trying to put pressure on it but slowly losing it. Just like you, Natasha had a soft for you too. Natasha puts down her gun and treats your wound. Once she finishes patching you up, she puts you in the bed and finds some food and water for you.

“Don’t scare me like that again Fox” Natasha says handing you water.

“Wouldn’t plan on it. Then who would you track across the whole world to see” you say taking the water.

“By the way, my name is Y/N,” you say realizing that you never knew each other names. Just code names Black Widow and Silver Fox.

“My name is Natasha. It is nice to finally meet you” Natasha says with a small smile. You both stare at each other’s eyes then something clicks. You both lean in for a kiss that feels like it lasted for hours. That night you both made love in that safe house until the sun came up. 

— 

That became your guys' routine for a few years. You guys will find each other then find a hotel or safe house to make love all night and leave in the morning. During the years that you both have been hooking up with each other, you started to fall in love with Natasha. After you guys finished, you would talk about everything. She told you about the Red Room and how she lost her sister. You told her about your backstory and why you are an assassin/spy. 

You wanted to do better for Natasha, so you slowly started to take fewer and fewer jobs until you were completely out. Natasha was able to track you down in Jamaica. Once she got there, you told her that you were about of the game and wanted to do right by her. Natasha was so happy to hear it and officially asked you to be her girlfriend. 

You said yes and you guys spent a week in Jamaica. Natasha didn’t know that you planned for this whole week. It was the best time of your life. 

A month later, Natasha told the team that you guys were together and they weren’t happy about it. You have caused so much damage to the team over the years and it can’t be fixed anytime soon. 

You understood and asked for a chance. The team didn’t want to give you a chance, but Fury wanted to keep your talents so he let you on the team with pushback. 

You were happy that you could actually do some good in the world and be near your girlfriend. After a few months of staying there, you and Natasha moved into the same room together. Everything was going great with you two.

— 

Now you are on a solo mission while the team is at the compound having a chill night drinking, playing games, and watching movies.

Natasha is drinking with the rest of the team but she is waiting for you to be back. You told her tonight when you come back you are going to cook her a nice meal to celebrate each other. So Natasha is trying not to drink too much unlike her teammates who are drunk right now. 

“You know Nat, you shouldn’t be dating Gold Fox,” Tony says slurring his words.

“It is Silver Fox and she has a name,” Natasha says defensively.

“Look what we are trying to say that she isn’t good for you. Why not date Bruce? He is a better fit for you” Wanda says to her best friend. Natasha rolls her eyes at the thought of it. She only wants to be with you. It was no secret that Bruce has a crush on Natasha and everyone is for it but you and Natasha. 

“No, I am in a happy relationship” Natasha bites back at her team. 

“How about you kiss to see? You may never know. Now kiss” Tony says and the whole team starts to chant ‘kiss’.

“Hell no!” Natasha says but now Bruce is drunk and has some confidence. He comes over to where Natasha is and pulls her into a kiss with the team cheering. 

Then you hear a loud bang. The team turns around to see you standing there with bags of groceries. You drop the bags and leave the compound.

“Look at what you guys did” Natasha gets up to try and catch you but you are long gone. Natasha sighs and starts to pick up the bags that you dropped. Natasha let out a sigh because she was looking forward to dinner. You always made her the best food and she wanted a night alone with you. You've both been on missions back to back and needed it. 

Natasha picks up the bags and sees a small box. She opens the box to see a beautiful engagement ring. It is the ring that Natasha has been describing you for months now. 

“You guys are all dicks!” Natasha screams and takes off to the landing bay. She knew exactly where you were going. The safe house in Paris.

Natasha takes a small jet and goes to you. She gets to the safe house and sees you on the bed in a ball crying while holding a picture of you two on your first date. 

“Lisichka” Natasha comes over to you and holds you tight. She wipes away your tears.

“Why would you do it” you say in a small voice.

“Lisichka, it didn’t happen that way. The whole team was drunk and wanted me to kiss Bruce. I said no and he came up and grabbed me. He kissed me, but I didn’t kiss him. These lips are only for you” Natasha kisses your cheek. You turn around so you are looking in her eyes to see that she is telling the truth, and she is. 

Natasha likes to think that you can’t tell when she is lying but you also do. 

“Now were you serious about this” Natasha holds up the box.

“Yes. I was supposed to ask you about a beautiful dinner and it be romantic” you say sadly.

“Well, the answer is yes. And this is just perfect for me” Natasha kisses you with all the passion that she has. You hold her close so she does go away.

“Let’s run away together,” Natasha says once she breaks the kiss. 

“Baby, no,” you say and Natasha looks at you confused.

“As much as I would love to run away with you. The Avengers are your family. You even got Yelena back in your life. I don’t want to be the reason why you have to leave your family” you say holding her cheek.

“You know that you are my family now too right” Natasha gets the ring out of the box. You stop her and put the ring on her. 

“That’s very true,” you admire her with the ring on.

“Fine, but I will make them like you,” Natasha says in all seriousness. 

“I bet you will,” you say and kiss Natasha again. You guys spend the night making love to each other in the same place that started it all.

Masterlist

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel mcu #avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanova #marvel fic #natalia romanova #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #black widow imagine #black widow x reader

[ynscrazylife]

You know what I really miss? Avengers x teen!reader headcanons, there use to be so much avengers content and practically dominated tumblr🥲

It would totally make my WEEK if you would make some classic mcu avengers(before infinity war) x teen!reader x Peter Parker(romantic) headcanons just about reader having powers and what it’s like living with the avengers 💕

-possible your new 👾anon?

let’s do this 💪 and YES you’ll be my first emoji anon!! @ anyone else, feel free to claim ur emoji!!

avengers x teen!reader headcanons

The Avengers are definitely reluctant to add another teenager to the team. Having Peter is great but has been a big adjustment, as they had to train him and protect him, less they face the wrath of Aunt May.

However, you were a compelling case, with your extensive abilities. You didn’t have many other options as to where to go and you hit it off with Peter right off the bat, working very well together as a pair. So, they took you in.

Tony worked with you on designs for your suit, Natasha and Steve trained you in combat (which meant you were going on morning runs with Steve and Sam. How fun . . . Though Sam could be convinced to give you piggy back rides, and you became Clint’s personal arrow-picker-upper. If you had powers, Wanda would definitely help you manage them.

Peter was naturally in tune to science, which meant you hung around the lab with him and Bruce a lot. It became a nice time to get your homework done, as Bruce would definitely help you with that. Sometimes you acted as Bruce’s and Peter’s assistant with their experiments.

Bruce was also a very good listener and your go-to person to vent to about your life’s problems (when Peter wasn’t around).

One of the conditions to be on the team was that you didn’t lapse in schoolwork, so they were very on top of that and your grades. Tony even offered to go to parent-teacher meetings. Any one of them were ready to go to your teachers or principal if anything happened.

Natasha would routinely check in with you to make sure that you weren’t being bullied.

Pepper also became a motherly figure, as she cared very much about you and Peter. She’d offer you a Stark Industries internship.

Movie nights were chaotic, but absolutely the best. It was hard for anyone to agree, so the team had a system where they’d rotate who got to pick the meeting. Sam and Peter were also not allowed to make popcorn after many unfortunate incidents. Most of the time you fell asleep late into the night and one of the Avengers carried you to bed (they’d never admit this, but that also became an argument).

It was during a movie night when Peter realized he liked you romantically. You fell asleep during a movie, your head on his shoulder. Peter swore he never experienced something so precious before. He was adamant to keep your peace, glaring at anyone who dared to talk.

The team found your growing romance to be adorable and often teased the two of you about it. The only people who didn’t tease you were Bruce, Pepper, and Thor (because he didn’t really understand how to effectively tease).

If Flash messed with you, Peter was always on top of it. He’d always protect you.

Steve was also always making sure that you knew right from wrong. He’d give long speeches about how it wasn’t right to smoke, drink, do drugs, etc.

Then Thor gave you Asgardian alcohol once, not realizing how bad that was considering you’re both human and underage. That was a mess. Peter having to hold your hair back when you vomited and multiple Avengers escorting you to bed. Thor got an earful about it.

Clint was one of the ones who better understood you, seeing as he had experience with his own kids. He was always good at mediating and defusing the tension.

Laura also adored you, you were her favorite babysitter for the kids. Whenever they went on date night, they’d drop the kids off at the tower, and you would watch them (Peter would help when he wasn’t on patrol).

Patrolling with Peter was also very fun. More often than not he’d convince you to take a break, then swing you up on top of a roof to watch over the city and the sky.

On multiple occasions, KAREN would rat the two of you out to Tony, but he was never mad. He just wanted to know all about the “date”.

Prom was also very fun. Honestly, the whole team would want to come pick out outfits with you and Peter. They took many, many pictures on the night of. Peter also teared up when he saw you. He thought you were stunning.

Of course, you guys had a curfew, but it was alright. You and Peter had a fantastic night. All he wanted to do was dance and hold you.

You had Happy wrapped around your finger. You could really convince him to drive you anywhere you wanted to go.

You also managed to get an internship at the Sanctum Santorum, learning more about magic under Doctor Strange and Wong’s guidance. The Avengers weren’t particularly thrilled, as they were worried about you being hurt, but understood your want to explore.

You really wanted to see all the areas of being a hero. Clint taught you archery and Natasha taught you how to be a spy. You’d listen to Natasha and Clint’s spy stories for hours. Peter would have to pry you away.

Peter always insisted on having date nights and would go all out, making every date special. He’d do anything to make you happy.

And so would all the Avengers. They loved seeing you smile, it brightened up their whole world and made the team stronger.

#avengers headcanons #avengers imagine #avengers fluff #avengers fanfiction #avengers family #avengers fic #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x you #avengers marvel #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker headcanon #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #marvel #mcu #marvel fics #marvel fan fiction

[eviesaurusrex]

“ᴍʏ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜ.” | ʙ. ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

GIFs not mine!

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

summary: Bucky’s girl has to get her wisdom teeth removed, and he would go to all lengths to protect her from that experience—but he has to deal with the aftermath and takes care of her in the best possible ways.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of blood and surgical environment, mentions of pain and panic, Bucky being overprotective, mentions of his nightmares/night terrors, mentions of teeth removal, but overall more fluff than angst!

author’s note: This is entirely self-indulgence on my behalf bc I got mine removed on Tuesday, and it was probably the scariest experience I ever had in a doctor’s office. So, I need to imagine Bucky would be there and worry about me and take care of me.

;

He sat in the hallway, forearms resting on his knees, of which one bounced rapidly to ease the need to jump up and walk straight into that room. Steve was right next to him—Bucky suspected that YN had asked him to sit down with him, just in case—and he was thankful for his best friend’s company because the sounds he could pick up in the distance almost drove him mad.

Bucky knew that Steve probably heard them more clearly, but the faint sounds were already enough for him to want to jump up and save his girl from the excruciating fear she now had to face in there. She sounded like an injured and scared animal, and he could hear her sobs traveling to his ears—it reminded him so much of the sounds he woke himself with night after night, the panic all-consuming, and only her tender touches could pull him back out of the memories. Listening to YN making those exact same noises almost broke his heart to a million pieces.

“Why can’t they just put her under,” he mumbled angrily, hands pushing through his now short hair, which YN had cut for him during a sunny but lazy Saturday morning. Steve softly patted his shoulder. “You know her body would burn through the anesthesia faster than they could work, and they can’t use the stuff Bruce developed because she tends to get high blood pressure from it.” Steve tried everything to get through to Bucky, to console him, to make him understand that this was the only option—and that everything would be alright. “She will push through it. They gave her something to calm down, and she doesn’t feel any pain.” His words seemed like a joke as another sobbing moan was heard by the two super soldiers. “Doesn’t sound like it,” Bucky mumbled, face buried in his hands.

The blonde man sighed deeply before speaking up again. “Friday?” The AI instantly woke to life. “Yes, Captain Rogers?” He threw a look at his friend before asking the question. “How is YN holding up in there?” They had to wait a few seconds before Friday spoke again. “Agent LN‘s blood pressure is slightly elevated, but Doctor Hilton just said they would be done in only a couple of minutes. The last tooth is rotated, and he needs a bit longer to remove it than he did for the previous three. I will notify you when they are done.”

Bucky slumped back against the wall behind him, releasing the held breath in a deep sigh, but still continued the wringing of his hands. The wiring sound of his metal arm increased as he raked his metal fingers through his hair once more, his eyes closed and dark brows furrowed. At least he didn’t hear the pained moan coming from his girlfriend anymore, but he still could make out her soft crying.

The following minutes passed as slowly as eternity probably would feel before Friday announced that the procedure was finished and the last stitch was made. Neither Steve nor the nurses who worked in the medbay of the compound could stop the brunette soldier as he jumped off the too-small chair and rushed through the hallway. He didn’t even bother to check if he was allowed to enter the sterile surgical room; instead, he just stalked in there, throwing everyone a dark look, before hurrying himself over to YN, who still rested on the horizontal chair, eyes red and puffy from all the crying, tears still running down her already slightly swollen cheeks.

“Oh, YNN,” he whispered gently and softly, prying open her cramped fingers, which held tensely onto each other. He took her hand in his, pressed it against his chest, and leaned down to pepper her forehead in soft kisses, not wanting to risk hurting her if he dared to kiss her cheeks. “You did so well, doll. So, so well,” he continued his whispered praises and brushed the salty tears off her cheeks and from underneath her eyes with a feather-like touch of his thumb. She looked up at him, tears still clearly visible in her watery eyes, and another sob escaped her throat. But suddenly, she choked on it, and a bit of blood escaped her lips as she coughed, which Bucky was fast to dab from there with the towel laying on the surgical tray right next to her.

“There. All gone.” He smiled down at her, and YN stretched her arms out to him, desperation and the remnants of panic and fear on her still pretty face, and he softly pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the chair. “Make sure she lays upright for the first couple of days,” the surgeon says after Bucky has turned with her securely in his arms. “Cooling is essential, so start with it right away. When her cheeks swell up, you can do lymphatic drainage—Friday has the instructions. Check-up is tomorrow, and we will remove the stitches a week from now.“ The soldier nodded after every point made. “The painkillers and the antibiotics are in this bag, along with some instructions concerning her nutrition for the upcoming days, but Friday also generated a meal plan.” Again, another nod from Bucky while YN just clung to him. “She did really good,” Hilton smiled at last and released the couple.

Bucky carried her out of the room and let Steve accompany them on their way upwards onto the living floor. YN threw the blonde a thankful look before opening her mouth slightly. “Thanks, Stevie.” It was only a mumble, almost incomprehensible due to the cotton pads between her teeth and the still working local anesthetic, numbing her entire mouth, including her tongue, but Steve understood her nonetheless. “Everything for my sister-in-mind,” he returned with a soft smile and gently rubbed over her back. “Get some rest, cupcake.” She nodded at his words before snuggling her head back onto Bucky’s shoulder while Steve walked off and left them at the door to their shared bedroom.

“How is the pain, doll?” YN shrugged at that, clinging to him as he tried to put her on the bed and wanting to leave her alone. “Dongo,” she mumbled, and the soldier smiled down at her, crouching in front of the sitting woman. “Was never my intention, pretty girl. Just wanted to get your shoes off. Do you want some fluffy socks? One of my Henleys?” She nodded at both with brightening eyes, and Bucky smiled again before softly kissing the crown of her head, a hand gently combing through her hair. “Be right back, darling.” And he held his word, returning with her favorite pair of fluffy socks—the ones with candy canes and reindeer—and her favorite Henley—the dark red one. He helped her into both, always careful not to touch her cheeks.

He moved her into the middle of the enormous bed, propping her up with the pillows lying around and tucking her in. “Gonna do a quick run to the kitchen to get you those cooling packs, doll. Need anything else?” She shook her head and watched him as he left and even stared at the door when he returned only minutes later—arms filled with all kinds of stuff.

YN raised both brows in silent question after Bucky had neatly piled everything on top of the bedside table and tried to figure out how he could attach the cooling packs to her face. He would hold them day and night, but the soldier was sure that his girlfriend wouldn’t be fond of that suggestion. “Don’t give me that look, doll. Y’know, I can’t let you starve or dehydrate. Nat gave me those drink meals? And Tony found some of those squeeze puree bags Peter used when he got his removed. I don’t know; it says something about banana and strawberry flavor, and that sounded quite good, didn’t it? Oh, and I got you lots of water, and Wanda will bring some tea later. She said it would be antibacterial? S’supposed to help with the healing and—…” He rambled without pause, and YN gently pressed her pointer finger onto his lips and let him shut up. “Sorry,” he mumbled against her skin with a bashful smile.

“Give me those.” YN took the cooling packs out of his restless, moving hands and pointed to their shared closet. “Could you bring me a scarf?” Bucky was up and on the other side of the room within a blink of an eye and held three options over his head, a questioning expression in his eyes. “Which one?” YN smiled softly and slightly shook her head. “Doesn’t matter, silly,” she told him, but Bucky still treated the decision like the most important one on this day. “I think we should go with the grey one. It’s soft enough for your skin, it’s not too expensive to be crying over it when you ruin it, and it’s big enough for whatever you might wanna do to it,” he finally decided and brought it to her before plopping down next to YN and watching her in her doings.

She folded it in half lengthwise and put the two cooling packs in the middle before wrapping them in the fabric. Then, she lifted the now-heavy scarf and started to make a knot on the top of her head—the section with the packs now tightly resting around her chin and cheeks. Bucky stared in awe at her inventing mind, and a chuckle escaped him after YN had turned her head to face him. “You look like a little bunny. Or that one Disney character with the long ears.” YN giggled at that. “You mean Goofy?” He nodded with a grin before pulling her close to his body.

“How is the pain? Do you need some of those painkillers?” He had to make sure that it didn’t get worse while he was gone. And he was glad he asked because she nodded slowly, almost shyly. “Yeah… Think the anesthetic is wearing off,” the agent mumbled, and he was quick to get the package from the bag and one of the water bottles he had brought. “There you go,” he mumbled after carefully removing the blood-drenched cotton pads from her mouth, and she had thrown one in and emptied the bottle halfway. “Don’t have to feel embarrassed, love. Just tell me if you need another one, yeah? You don’t have to suffer only because you think you have to.” YN nodded gently and leaned her head heavily on his shoulder.

“I was so scared in there,” she finally dared to whisper and felt his hold around her tighten. “I know, love. Heard you through that entire hallway. It broke my heart not to be able to protect you from that. But you did so, so well. My brave girl,” the usually grumpy super soldier mumbled into her soft hair, pressing several kisses to her temple. “Sorry for worrying you. And scaring you. I just… just couldn’t stop the tears and the sounds because it hurt so bad but didn’t hurt at the same time because everything was numb, but my jaw…” The memory of the feeling when a tooth was pulled out alone made her nauseous again, not to mention the sickening sound when the surgeon had to crack one of her teeth in order to get it out of her damn jaw.

Bucky held her even closer at that and hummed softly. “It’s over now, love. And stop apologizing, hm? It’s my responsibility to worry myself to death when it comes to you. You’re my everything, YNN. It’s natural for me to worry about’ya.” She looked up at him and accepted the incoming forehead kiss with tiredly closing eyes, finally feeling comforted and loved and safe again. “But y’don’t have to hang here the entire week. I know you have missions and the evaluation of the recruits, and—…” Now it was Bucky’s turn to tenderly lay a finger to her lips and urge her to look up at him again. “Did you really think for a second I’d leave you all to yourself? To let you look after yourself alone? Silly woman,” he grinned and pecked the tip of her nose with a soft kiss. “You’re my responsibility, doll. So it’s my responsibility to take care of you this entire week. Haven’t had so much time with you in weeks, so I’m very willing to stay right here where I am.”

YN blinked slowly, comprehending his words, and sniffled a bit as tears tried to rise in her eyes. “You really stay here?” She couldn’t understand the luck she had to have Bucky at her side. But his nod showed her that he meant it. “You can bet on it. You will be so sick of me after these seven days,” he chuckled and let her cuddle tightly into his chest. “Not possible,” she whispered, and within a few seconds, Bucky felt her body getting heavier in his arms and all he did was hold her while she slept off the adrenaline and panic from earlier.

;

As already mentioned, this was entirely selfish to write because I really needed that. But still, I hope y’all enjoyed it at least a bit :3 As usual: comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated!

taglist: @seasonofthenerd @onecrazydirectioner @meeksmusic83 @nyctophilic0vitnir

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james barnes x reader #james barnes x female reader #james barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x fem!reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky fanfiction

[angstysebfan]

Was It A Mistake - Fin

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Bucky x Nat Chapter Summary: The happy ending we deserve. Epilogue. We jump through time here. Warnings: Fluffy Fluff

Series Masterlist

--

Life was definitely different after the confrontation with Nat in the theater room. Nat went off to a safe house and stayed there for 9 months. She was suspended from the Avengers until she could pass a psych evaluation and be cleared. While she was away, she started seeing a therapist, and was able to figure out that while she cared for Bucky, she didn't actually love him. She had become obsessed because of trauma from a particular mission right before Bucky came to tower. When she returned to the tower, she still went to therapy almost daily for awhile, and eventually became the Nat everyone knew and loved again. She continues to be on probation and needs to have frequent check ins with Fury, Tony, and Steve.

Bucky still can't forgive her, which everyone understood; you had a hard time also. While you were somewhat ok with working with her (though you tried not to be on missions with her due to the lack of trust), you knew that you would never be able to be friends again. Eventually Nat started dating Bruce Banner, which made you feel better about her never coming after Bucky again. 

After Nat had initially left the tower, you and Bucky decided to try your relationship again, but you made him work for it. You went out on dates, and after a few you allowed him to kiss you. You held out about 2 months before you slept together again. You wanted to go slow, cause though you were both manipulated, you still had a hard time letting go what he and Nat did to you while they were together. Bucky was patient and completely understood.

After 8 months you both finally moved back in together in an apartment near Steve's in Brooklyn, and Bucky wanted to propose immediately, but held off another 4 months and proposed on your 1 year anniversary of getting back together. You cried and immediately said yes, as you wanted to spend the rest of your life with this man. The man you loved despite everything that happened.

Now here you are, after a short 6 month engagement, having a small intimate wedding with your Avengers family. You didn’t care that it was a small wedding, in fact you preferred it that way, because the only thing that mattered to you was the man at the end the aisle, waiting for you. When Tony and you walked into the room, the look on his face told you everything. You saw all the love and compassion he had for you through the tears in his eyes, the big softy. You knew that no one else would ever love you the way Bucky Barnes does and no one would ever love him like you do. You were more than ready to start your life as Mrs. Y/N Barnes. 

After the ceremony, everyone hung out in the common room for a small party. You and Bucky danced the night away in each others arms, the smiles never leaving your faces. Steve was the best man and Wanda was your maid of honor, and both gave great speeches that made everyone laugh. You couldn't imagine this day to be any better than it was. You kept looking at Bucky and saw how happy he was. It warmed your heart to be able to give him all the happiness he deserved. It might have taken you some time, with a rather large bump in the road, but you are finally here. You are both finally in your happily ever after.

While the “party” was still going on in the common room, you took Bucky out onto the balcony. You needed a little bit of alone time with your new husband. (you still can't believe he is your husband!) You walked hand in hand to the railing, and looked over New York City. Bucky draped his flesh arm around you and kissed the top of your head, sighing in happiness.

“Today was the happiest day of my life, doll. Thank you for being my wife,” he said against your temple then kissed it softly.

You smile and looked up at him. “Well I am more than happy to be your wife and make all your dreams come true. Our dreams come true," you said, turning toward him and grabbing his hands giving them a squeeze.

"In fact, not only am I happy to be your wife…” you give him a peck on the lips, “I'm happy and proud to be the mother of your child,” you say softly. 

Bucky stares at you, trying to comprehend what you just said. You look at him, slightly nervous for his reaction, hoping he is ok with this happening so soon. You both talked about it, but not this soon.

“You….. You’re pregnant?” he gasps.

You slowly nod at him, cupping his face to ground him. You see a wide smile slowly appear on his face, and you release the breath you were holding. He was happy!

“I’m going to be a dad?” he asks, excitement evident in his voice as he holds your hands tighter without hurting you.

“Yes, baby. You're going to be daddy!” you say, tears coming to your eyes. Bucky laughs as he lifts you up in his arms and spins you around. Both of your a mix of laughs and tears. Could this day get any better?

“I can’t believe it! I’m going to be a dad!" he says before pulling you in to a breathtaking kiss.

He pulls away and both of you are panting. He leans his forehead against yours and quietly says, "You really are the most amazing person in the whole world. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

He pulls you closer, if thats possibly, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you with my entire being. I'm nothing without you, and never want to be without you.” He presses another passionate kiss to your lips.

You pull away even more breathless, as tears fall from your face. “I love you too, Bucky. More than you'll ever know.” You kiss again softly.

"Come on," he says, taking you by the hand to head back in.

When you walk back into the common room Bucky announces that he is going to be a daddy! Everyone in the room cheers for the happy expecting newlywed couple. That night no one on Earth was as happy as you and your new husband.

--

Part 6

There you go! Tell what you think? Feedback is appreciated. Thank you for all the support.

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#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x natasha #natasha romanoff #angst #miscommunication #misunderstanding #manipulation

[jedi-luca]

Incorrect Avengers Parks & Rec Edition

The Time You and Nat get married randomly.

The Officiant: Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to marry Y/N Y/L/N and Natasha Romanoff.

Tony: Wait, this is a wedding?

Pepper: Shhh!

The Officiant: Natasha, would you like to go first?

Natasha: I guess I kind of hate most things. But I never really seem to hate you. So I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Is that cool?

Y/N smiling goofily: Yes...Is it my turn?

The Officiant: Yes.

Y/N: Nat, you're the most awesome person I have ever known in my entire life. 

Clint crying as Laura rubs his back: I watched this blossom.

Y/N: I vow to protect you from danger, and I don't care if I have to fight Captain America-

Steve: Why does everyone always want to fight me?

Bucky: You just have one of those faces now shut up.

Y/N continuing: - or a bear or him-” Y/N says pointing at Bruce.

Wanda leaning over to whisper to Bruce: If you come between them I will strand you in the middle of the cosmos. 

Bruce's eyes widened.

Y/N continuing: your mom-

Melina with tears in her eyes: So sweet.

Alexei smiling proudly: Perfect for our little Natalia.

Y/N continuing: I would take them all down for you.

Natasha smiles tears rolling down her cheeks as she kisses your hands trying to calm you down.

Y/N: I'm getting mad right now even thinking about it.

Natasha squeezes your hand: It's okay.

Y/N: I want to spend the rest of my life...every minute...with you. And I'm the luckiest person in the galaxy.

The Officiant tries not to cry: And now the rings.

You turn towards Val who hands you the rings and Natasha turns to Yelena.

The Officiant: By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss the bride.

Y/N looks like a golden retriever right before Natasha jumps their bones.

#natasha romanoff x reader #incorrect marvel quotes

[racefortheironthrone]

On the subject of UBI, I always ask about the MCU UBI: Tony is a billionaire who lives a life of luxury, Bruce has a serious chronic illness that requires expensive medical care, and Trevor just wants to sit round all day drinking and doing drugs. I take the UBI guys more seriously if they can say what each man gets from a UBI.

That's a somewhat odd choice of characters to think about how a UBI would function in the MCU.

So yes, Tony Stark would get a UBI. Relative to his private income, his UBI check would be totally inconsequential - and given the level of taxation needed to support a UBI, it's pretty much guaranteed that Tony would be paying far more in taxes than he would be getting back in UBI payments.

This is not an accident or a mistake or a flaw in the system; this is how a healthy social policy should function. When Social Security was established in 1936, FDR made a big deal of the fact that even John D. Rockefeller would get a Social Security check - because it hammered home the point that everyone contributes, and everyone benefits. Reciprocal solidarity would short-circuit the divisive politics of distribution and redistribution and cement a permanent majority coalition in support of a universal welfare state.

Bruce Banner would also get a UBI check. Now, his financial situation is a little unclear - originally, Banner was a top research scientist at Culver University with U.S military contracts, so he would probably have been in the top 10% of incomes (affluent but not wealthy). After his transformation into the Hulk, however, Bruce was a wanted fugitive with no way of earning income.

After that, Bruce was an Avenger - and this is where things get odd. As established in Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Avengers in the MCU don't get a salary: Tony gave them free housing and paid their Avengers-related expenses, but Sam Wilson notably relied on his veteran's pension and government contracts for his living (thus why his banker could justify turning him down for a small business loan rather than admitting to structural racial discrimination) and Steve Rogers even with his veteran's benefits, Social Security, and SHIELD salary couldn't afford a place in Brooklyn. This means that, while Bruce doesn't need to worry about money for his research and can save on rent, he does actually need the UBI for everything else.

This is very different from in the comics, where Avengers get quite decent salaries:

$4k a month in 1983 dollars works out to around $150k a year (on top of free housing at the Avengers Mansion), putting them solidly in the top 13% of U.S personal incomes.

As for Trevor Slattery, I feel like your description is unfairly characterizing a working actor. Slattery was not a major success in Hollywood - hence why he took Aldrich Killian up on his job offer and became part of a criminal conspiracy - and he does have some serious substance abuse issues, but what he does in his private life is his own business. Hell, even when he was abducted by the Ten Rings, he kept working as an actor. That being said, Trevor is going to have a hard time getting UBI, both because he's a wanted fugitive and convicted felon (which would end his eligibility in the U.S) and because he's now living in a rural village in another dimension.

#mcu #marvel #marvel meta #universal basic income #ubi #policy history #social policy

[aurumacadicus]

Witchy AU: Tony/Everyone

Everyone's loving witches! Especially me.

Tony is one of the most powerful witches on the east coast. He's also without a coven, which puts him in a very delicate situation where he can't tell if people are kind to him because they're nice or if they're trying to sway him toward their own coven. He knows it will get worse as soon as he turns thirty, when he can no longer hide behind the thirteen years of mourning that comes with being orphaned by his own coven. He knows he's part of the reason they're champing at the bit to get him in their ranks--most Endlings mourned for a few years and then fell into the open arms of their favored coven, wanting the safety of a large group. Tony is really the only one who has actively avoided joining a new coven that he's ever known of. He doesn't want to lose his heritage, is the thing. To enter into a new coven, he'll have to give up his family's legacy, his last name and take their own, and yes--he doesn't want to give up his family's money, either. Call him greedy. He doesn't care. His mother didn't hit the docks with nothing but a suitcase of clothes to her name, and Howard didn't start his business from the ground up by himself, to have it taken away from their child. But he has nothing but his money and powers to bargain with, and that's exactly what everyone wants. So when hears about a coven made up of other Endlings, who have banded together specifically so that they don't have to give up anything, sure, he's a little desperate when he goes to them and offers them free use of his mansion and an allowance from his fortune so long as he gets to keep his name and legacy. "How big is the allowance?" a guy with blond hair asks, and then gets elbowed swiftly in the gut. "I dunno, like five grand?" Tony says, shrugging. "A year? Kinda stingy," the woman who elbowed him says, narrowing her eyes at him. "...A month," Tony corrects, trying not to sound snide and failing. The Avengers agree. And then collectively lose their shit when they realize he meant five grand for each of them every month.

The Avengers move in. Tony doesn't see them, though. He thinks they might be avoiding him? He once found a hot cup of coffee still sitting on the table. He'd puttered around for a few minutes to see if the owner would come back, but they hadn't, so he'd simply taken it to his workshop with him. He's not sure if this is normal? Tony had rarely seen his father before he died, and while he'd seen his mother a little more, she'd always been busy. Maybe this is just how covens work--meeting up only when necessary, and only as long as it took to come to a consensus. But maybe he shouldn't have assumed that, Tony thinks, blinking at the rest of the Avengers, holding a cauldron of inert sleeping potion and wearing nothing but a red thong. "...Oh," Steve finally squeaks. "Tony," Bruce says pleasantly when no one else moves to speak. "Why are you naked?" Tony blinks again. "Better results when I can absorb more moonlight. And I'm not naked." Everyone looks down, then back up very quickly, blushing. Even Natasha has turned vaguely pink. "Naked adjacent," Sam says after clearing his throat. Clint squints skeptically. "Does that really help?" "Well," Tony begins, and then the moon comes out from behind the clouds, and it hits his cauldron. The cauldron sparks, sparkles, then exudes a billowing of steam. Tony inhales some and promptly passes out.

Apparently, everyone was avoiding Tony because they thought he wanted space. Why else would he duck other more established covens to join their ragtag group? Most of them hadn't even had a coven to teach them their powers. He was the one they were taking cues from on how to be a normal coven. "D...don't do that," Tony says, stunned. He doesn't know what a normal coven looks like, because even his own had felt wrong to him. It was another reason he'd been scared of joining one of the established families--he wouldn't know what was normal and was terrified they'd take advantage of him. "Yeah, we figured that out," Steve says, rubbing the back of his head and looking anywhere but at him. Tony looks down at the blanket they've covered him with, then squints back up at Steve skeptically. He's covered. "He's an Artist," Bucky explains, clapping Steve on the shoulder hard enough the blond grimaces. "He's already got your body memorized and I'm sure we're going to find one of his moving portraits in the studio--" "Goodbye, Bucky," Steve says, solemn, and then clotheslines him. Tony watches them wrestle for a moment, then turns his squint on the rest of the coven. "Is this normal?" "Eh," Clint replies, shrugging, as Sam puts his face in his hands with a sigh and Natasha and Bruce watch to make sure they don't actually kill each other. "Well, get used to me walking around in a state of undress," Tony retorts. "Clothes feel bad when I do magic." "Oh no," Natasha deadpans. "However will we cope. I hope Steve plasters moving portraits of your bare ass all over the mansion." "You can see it any time you want," Tony answers snidely. "I'm easy."

Now that they know they're welcome, the rest of the Avengers are happy to seek him out to chat. Tony has no idea how they've survived this long. Steve's magic fluctuates wildly, and Bucky's sometimes dims to an ember. Bruce's is based in alchemy, and he rarely practices it safely. Natasha and Clint are secretive about what, exactly, their magic can do, but Tony has noticed more spiders in the corners of the room, watching from their webs and not moving. (He doesn't ask about them). Sam seems to be the only one who has any idea what he's doing, and it turns out the only reason he left his family coven is because he had a trauma that snapped his family ties. He's working on rebuilding them, though. "You're the only normal person here," Tony tells him. "Yeah, I figured that out quickly," Sam deadpans, and then, "Can I keep a falcon?" Tony tips his head and tries not to squint at him. Natasha had told him it looked more judgemental than he meant it to. "It's your house too. Just make sure it meets all specifications, get the permits. Err on the side of too much." "How am I supposed to get permits," Sam asks. "Every time I try they tell me the queue is backed up with years' worth of requests." Tony can't help finally squinting at him with all the judgement he can muster. "You're not a coven of Endlings now, Sam. You joined with the Stark Coven. The name means something to people. And by something it means curses." Sam opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. "Did your parents curse people?" Natasha asks, turning from her book. It's the most intrigued she's ever looked. "Not that anyone can prove," Tony replies, and then doesn't say anything else about it, even when everyone pesters him. Sam tries to punish him by getting chickens, quails, and geese, but it backfires because Tony loves chickens.

"Hey, do you know anyone who wouldn't mind fucking me during the waning gibbous?" Tony asks at dinner, ignorant of the way everyone else either spews their beverage or coughs on food. "It's one of the steps for a spell I'm trying out." "ME," Steve bellows, slamming his hands down on the table as he stands up. Tony blinks at him, stunned. Then he blinks at Clint as he lunges across the table to tackle him with a snarl. Then at Bucky trying to leap at him, except Sam gets in his way. He turns and looks at Natasha and Bruce, who are still eating, casual, as if the rest of their coven are not engaging in fisticuffs. "Sex doesn't do anything for me," Bruce says with a shrug, not looking up from his food. Natasha glances at him, then looks up properly, frowning. "Wait, do I count?" "Are you against pegging?" Tony asks frankly. Natasha stares at him for a moment, then stands up, knife gripped tight in her hand. "Look what you've done," Bruce sighs when she lunges at Sam and Bucky and they promptly start screaming in terror. Tony isn't sorry, even if his mouth has dropped open in shock.

#aurumacadicus answers #ask meme #5 headcanons meme #polyvengers #if you’re wondering where Thor is #he joins the foster coven because he’s smitten with Jane #but don’t worry the foster and stark covens work together a lot #because Tony’s magic is influenced by the moon and Jane’s by the stars #and they typically have the same goals

[jinxquickfoot]

So I finished my Age of Ultron rewatch. It's been a couple of years since I last saw it, and here are some random thoughts I had on it:

Things I will maintain I like about this movie:

It has some of my favorite jokes in the MCU, and they're usually the little moments. The little nod of validation Rhodey makes after getting a laugh at his "Boom! You looking for this?" story. Clint telling Steve he's no match for Ultron and Steve replying with, "Thanks, Barton". Clint's "Yeah, you better run" after Pietro has long since disappeared with Wanda, there are loads of them.

I like Vision, Wanda and Pietro. Despite being secondary characters with not a huge amount of screen time, Wanda and Pietro feel like real people with real backstories, and Paul Bettany is wonderful the first time we see him as Vis.

It's the only movie we get to see the Original 6 hang out as friends.

I love that Fury randomly shows up in the middle and is like "let me make a sandwich while we discuss how not to let the world end also by the way hi Tony I really care about you"

Other casual appearances of other MCU characters, something that is so lacking Phase 4 onwards. Sam being at the party and Thor going to Selvig for help makes the world feel lived in.

RDJ's never dropped the ball as Tony but his performance really stuck out to me here, god he's good

Steve and Thor have multiple moments of teaming up and working together, what an underrated duo

Hulk vs Iron Man suit inside an Iron Man Suit fight

The Avengers do their best to evacuate Sokovia before Ultron attacks, which does not excuse the amount of damage caused there, but I do think is a plot point everyone forgets about (myself included)

And things that annoy me (skipping over the stuff everyone talks about like the Natasha/Bruce plot):

I hate how Joss Whedon writes Steve, both here and in Avengers. He only feels like Steve when he's being given jokes, otherwise he is so self-serious and stiff, the core of Steve is his heart and it is nowhere to be found in this movie

The movie spends so long setting up character arcs that feel promising and have no payoff. What is the point of Laura telling Clint the Avengers need him if he's going to retire at the end of the movie. Steve has several references to finding home in a way that doesn't go anywhere (Until Endgame, I guess). Don't get me started on Natasha.

It's trying so hard to have a theme but it never says anything unique. Bruce, Tony, Natasha and Vision all refer to themselves as monsters. Ultron decides that the Avengers are the bad guys. Steve has a speech all about proving they're not the monsters Ultron says they are. Based on WHAT? What is the message of this movie?? That the Avengers are better than the evil AI who wants to kill everyone?

(I half-feel there was a previous draft where Clint was their heart, or something, or he died and they were like whelp Phil Coulson 2.0 let's go avenge him, and the random pieces of that are still floating around the script with nowhere to go)

NO ONE is remotely concerned enough when their friends are getting hurt (maybe just the hurt/comfort lover in me, but still.) Natasha comes across as the only person who cares when Clint sustains a life-threatening injury. No one seems to be bothered that Natasha is being held captive by a psychotic supervillain. Tony shows more emotion over a fictional future where they die than when someone is actually in danger.

They really could have had a premise where they weren't allowed to access technology at all and could have gone retro with everything and they didn't and that just feels like a wasted opportunity. Clint and Natasha digging out old spy tech. Steve being like "Yes! This is familiar! I got this!" Tony making genius inventions out of tech from fifty years ago. Come on, it was right there.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #age of ultron #mcu #marvel #avengers #thoughts

[orangejuice-ttg]

Have the Graysons

I don’t know if I already explained this but this is an AU for teen titans go where the other Robins are taken in by Dick because Bat man doesn’t really acknowledges Robin so he probably wouldn’t keep another one for that long.

More info under

Jason would be with Bruce until he died and came back and is like canon is upset at him for not avenging him and goes to jump city to find Dick and he ends up impersonating him and shooting Beast boy in the shoulder.

Tim when he goes to jump city to find Dick and gets his shit knocked by the titans after what happened with Jason

Tim and Steph are twins now I don’t care what you say about them “dating” I make my own canon and i’ll self project all I want

Damien instead of ending up with Bat man is left at the titan door and Dick takes him in

And yes they’re all Robin at the same time

#teen titans go #ttg robin #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne

[yourtaletotell]

I hate that I don't hate you ⥺ Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary:Tony had a tradition, to have a Valentine's party, but it wasn't for everyone, only for the Avengers and his friends. You knew about the possibility of meeting Natasha, but you honestly didn't care. You focused on the possibility that she might be on a mission, or on the fact that she might still not like parties. [Inspired by Odio que no te odio / Million como tu - Cami y Lasso]

Warnings: angst with happy ending

Words: 1,708.

A/N: Yes, i’m back! And my first post also my first story, is dedicated to my beautiful and amazing girlfriend. She’s keeping me sane over the worst moment of my life. Baby, i love you, thank you for being here @rightwereyouleftme 💜

Tony had a tradition, to have a Valentine's party, but it wasn't for everyone, only for the Avengers and his friends. You were one of Tony's best friends, you were the one responsible for his joining the Avengers team. When Tony invited you to the party, you knew that you would have to meet her again. You and Natasha had not met for over four years, part of you was over it, at least that's what you said. You knew that you would have to see her, with or without Bruce, or talking to someone. Your mind might be trained to handle the pressure, but your heart was not. 

You knew about the possibility of meeting Natasha, but you honestly didn't care. You focused on the possibility that she might be on a mission, or on the fact that she might still not like parties. You didn't want to go to the party, but Tony owed you a drink after a catastrophic mission you went on together. He almost killed you, but you soon forgave him. Tony had put a lot of effort into the organization of that party, he had disturbed a lot of people, so that everything would go according to what he wanted. You only accepted the invitation to the party because you really needed some time away from the office. Your days had been very tiring, especially the last few days, where you spent hours and hours in front of a computer doing mission reports. At least, that's what you would say to most people that night.

You hadn't prepared a very special outfit, just what Tony had suggested in the invitation. You chose a red suit, you didn't usually wear a suit, but you used to because of Natasha. You had stopped wearing this outfit a long time ago, but you had respected Tony's choice. The invitation was very specific, that you had to arrive at a certain time, but you had always been very prompt, so you didn't really understand why the invitation was being so specific to you. You couldn't object, since Tony was a little crazy when it came to his parties. 

Maria Hill, your best friend, had arranged to meet you that night. She was going to stay with you most of the night. Her decision was to meet you there, when in fact you wanted to go with her so that you wouldn't arrive unaccompanied. On the way to the party, you received a message from Maria saying that she would be a few minutes late, and that she would be with you soon. When you arrived at the compound, you noticed that there was not as much movement in the building, not as many people as there used to be. For a party of Tony's, everything was very quiet. You shrugged and made your way to the elevator.

When the elevator door opened, and you stepped inside, a strange feeling came over you. It was as if a Magnetic Magnet was pulling you in. Until the perfume that most seduced you, pulled you back to reality. Natasha appeared, walking from the front of the compound hall to the elevator door, heading toward you. She was staring at you, while you were simply trying to avoid her completely, but the red dress looked great on her.

“Sergeant.”

 “Romanoff.”

For those who saw that formality, you couldn't imagine all that you had been through, yet today, but you sounded like strangers. Maybe time had made Natasha forget everything you two had been through, just as you were trying, deep down, to forget as well.

“I didn't think I'd see you around here.” 

You didn't answer, just let out a sigh. Natasha then looked you up and down, and you could hear a sigh coming from her as well.

“You look fine.” She said low. 

As much as you mentally controlled yourself, your body couldn't, it reacted on its own when it was in relation to Natasha. It had been so long since you had seen her, and that moment was not doing you any favors.

“Are you really going to talk to me, like nothing happened?” You replied harshly, slowly turning to Natasha.

“I'm trying to be friendly.” 

“Of course, Natalia.” As you finished your sentence, the elevator stopped. You froze and looked at the panel that seemed to be turned off. “Fuck Tony! Tony, turn that fucking elevator on.”

Natasha released her heel, and put her feet on the floor. She leaned on the metal wall of the elevator and stared at you. Nothing seemed to be going right. Tony didn't seem to be listening to you. 

“Shit, dammit. What the hell?” 

“Stay calm.”

“Natasha, please, you were the last person I wanted to be stuck together in an elevator.” You said through teeth.

“I thought you forgave me.” She said softly. You laughed, and began to remove your blazer. You could swear it was starting to sound, or it was just the heat of the moment. “What are you laughing at? Please, Y/N, look at me.”

You turned to Natasha, looked her in the eye, and took a deep breath.

“I waited 10 months, to understand that you were not coming back. I had panic attacks, thinking something had happened to you. I couldn't sleep nights and nights, because all I could do was cry.” Your eyes began to burn, but you took another deep breath to control the tears that were about to fall. “My friends celebrated that you were no longer here, asked me to forget you with some kind of drink, that I should stop calling you. That I had to try to meet someone else.” You looked at the wall, as Natasha's eyes sucked at your soul. “They told me that you weren't so special, that you didn't walk on the sea or turn glass into gold, that they didn't see you fly or stop bullets in the air. That among millions of people in the world I could find someone better.” 

The heat started to get worse there, you could see out of the corner of your eye that Natasha was starting to sound off too. You pulled away a little, but your heart felt heavy in your chest. The tears became hard to control. 

“But if there are a million people like you, why can't I sleep? Why did I stop eating? I spent days not knowing whether it was night or day.” You said, swallowing dryly. “If there are a million people like you, why couldn't I stop wondering if you were going to call? Thinking that maybe there was some trace of me left in you.” 

You leaned your back against the wall in the other corner of the elevator, avoiding Natasha's gaze. Your eyes lowered to the floor, preventing her from seeing the tears fall more often. 

“It must be because you, in the end, yes you were very special, There is no one else, no one is like you, in the end, I never forgave myself for letting you get away. Because there is no one else, no one is like you.”

Natasha approached you, looking up into your face. She came so close that she was inches away from you that she brought her hands to your face and made you look at her. Her eyes were watery. Her mouth was trembling. You knew she wasn't good with feelings and words, so you continued.

“I hate that I couldn't get your smell off my pillow, I hate the music we always order at the bar. I hate your humor, I hate your eyes and your mouth and your voice. I hate that you never said goodbye. I hate that we fought until you were no longer there. I hate your kisses, your hair, and your skin. I never thought, and didn't see it coming, that you would be the person who would make me suffer.” A sob broke your throat, and you closed your eyes as you felt Natasha's hand caress your face, you took a deep breath and continued. “But what I hate most is that I don't hate you. I prefer to love, and although it's killing me, I have to say. I love your kisses, your mouth, and your voice. I love you, even though you haven't said goodbye. No matter what you do, for me, it doesn't change anything at all. I love you from a distance and I love you on paper, but what I love most is that I don't hate you and never will.”

Natasha pulled your face close and kissed your lips. Your heart raced in your chest, you held her by the waist and then kissed her back. You missed those lips, you missed her perfume. You missed her from the moment she left you in Norway without saying goodbye. You didn't have a perfect relationship, but you loved each other. And that kiss, it still said that there were feelings on both sides. 

“I'm sorry.” Natasha said, parting her lips from yours, she rested her forehead against yours and sighed. “I was a coward to leave you, I was afraid to put your life at risk, even though I knew we would work together.” She pulled away to look you in the eye. “I think of you every day of my life, from Washington to Norway, and from Norway to this day. I'm sorry if I didn't know how to give you the love you deserved.” She wiped the tears from your face and smiled. “If you give me the chance, we can start over, and do it right this time. Le'ts take that vacation to Cancun, or anywhere. Just let me win you over again.”

“Yes.” Before you could think, your mouth had already answered.

The elevator shook, and the door opened. You were on the party floor, when you looked in the direction of the “party” there was a table with flowers and candles. Tony and Steve were dressed as waiters. You looked at Natasha, who let out a giggle and rolled her eyes. 

“What?” Tony said, approaching you. “Did you really think I wasn't going to give my favorite couple a little push?”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #black widow

[bensolosbluesaber]

Someone Like You: Part 2 (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley x Avengers f!reader)

Summary: Sure, you might have escaped with everyone alive, but the aftermath of using your powers is less than pleasant. And why is Marc Spector the one taking care of you? ~3,500 words (Part 1)

Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Primarily Marc Spector x f!reader, Jake Lockley x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader

Warnings: DID mentions and lots of them, canon typical violence, blood and injuries, mentions of childhood trauma/abuse, disassociation and nightmares, not edited very well

A/N: I represented DID in this fic in a way similar to the show, or at least that was my intention. Please understand this is fictionalized and dramatized, but also please tell me if there are errors. I hope you all enjoy this!

--

Bruce passes Marc a glass of water, and he takes it in a shaky hand. The two men could be considered friends. Bruce could sympathize with Marc’s trauma - the little that Marc had shared, and Bruce understood DID in a way that none of the other Avengers could. Marc gives Bruce a tight smile then turns to Nat who has been explaining the situation.

“You sent her into my head,” Marc interrupts accusingly.

“It’s what had to be done,” Nat answers simply. Her tone leaves no room for argument.

Marc glares for a long moment then nods slowly. She is right. He doesn’t like it, but it’s true. Getting out had been nearly impossible even with your help.

“Ask if she’s alright,” Steven insists from the head space.

Marc’s hand tenses around the glass.

“Where is she?” He says instead.

Nat glances back at the other Avengers. Sam tilts his head, pondering something, and then nods. Bucky huffs with displeasure but doesn’t argue. All of the others already know about what you unaffectionately call the aftershocks.

“She’s dealing with the aftermath of a mind walk,” Nat explains.

“Which is?” Marc asks before Steven can butt in and do it himself.

Nat looks to Bruce for a more scientific explanation.

“It’ll be worse because she just mind walked yesterday,” Sam adds. “Sometimes we sit with her. Most times she wants left alone.”

“Her consciousness was inside yours, right? But at the same time, your consciousness was seeping into hers. Think of it like a sponge in a bucket of water. She’s the sponge. You’re the water,” Bruce explains. He was the one who had initially studied your brain to figure out what caused such dramatic aftershocks. His words are scientific and detached, not for lack of empathy but for excess of it. “Your consciousness needs to work out of hers. The sponge being squeezed. Unfortunately, she can’t really control it. She’ll see the worst memories of the person she mind walked into. They play through her head for a few hours like nightmares. Sometimes more of a dissociation. It’s... difficult.”

But Marc wasn’t listening anymore.

“She’s seeing my worst memories?” He whispers.

“Marc, this isn’t fun for her. She wasn’t trying to invade your privacy,” Natasha says, misinterpreting Marc’s concern as being for himself.

“She is seeing my worst memories?”

“Yes, but she-“

“Is someone with her? Right now, who is with her?” Marc jumps out of bed, ignoring Bruce’s protest.

“She wanted to be alone,” Bucky replies.

“You let her be alone!? While she is seeing my worst memories? Fuck!” Marc glares at him, and pushes past everyone and out of the room without another word. 

He hurries down the hallway, the others close behind and calling after him until he busts through the door to the room he knows is yours.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky breathes when he sees you.

But it is Marc who is at your side first. Your eyes are wide and clouded and staring blankly at the door in complete disassociation. The chill of the room makes your skin prickle with goosebumps, and the occasional shiver runs across your otherwise still body. Disturbingly still. Your cheeks are wet with tears that are still flowing freely, and that’s unnerving in it’s own way. Your face is emotionless and empty, and yet you are openly crying.

Normally you would wrap yourself in a heavy blanket and hug some sort of stuffed animal. You would make sure your eyes were shut. You would find a comfortable position. You’ve done none of those things, so the Avengers know the aftershocks must have come over you suddenly.

Marc kneels beside your bed and smooths a rough hand over your cheek. No response. He thumbs a tear away, and looks back at the others. His brown eyes are wide and worried.

“I’ll stay,” Sam offers. “Buck did it last time.”

“I will.”

The four other Avengers all turn to Marc at the some time. They are not even bothering to hide their shock.

“You hate her?” Bucky states, although it’s more of a question.

“No he doesn’t.” Nat lets a small smile tug at her lips as Marc’s actions confirm what she has suspected for a long time.

“No, I don’t,” Marc confirms. “I’ve got her. My fucked up mind, my responsibility.”

“If you sit in bed with her, she can sort of sense a presence. If she feels safe, she might hold your hand. It’s not because she’s awake, just some subconscious thing,” Nat explains.

“Make sure she’s warm,” Sam adds and fixes Marc with a firm stare.

Nat guides the others out of room, giving Marc a last little sad grin on the way out. The door clicks shut.

Marc can’t tear his eyes away from you. You’d gone into his head, knowing this would happen, knowing that you’d see the worst parts of his life. None of the Avengers knew much about him, but they knew about his DID. You were smart enough to know what type of traumas caused that condition, the things you might see.

And you had been worried about him feeling violated.

A shiver makes you curl in on yourself, eyes sliding shut as you whimper so softly Marc barely hears.

“Get in the bed,” Jake mutters, and even his words are tinged with concern. “We’re warm.”

Marc looks down, realizing for the first time that someone had changed him into sweats and a t shirt. He hesitates for only a second before grabbing a blanket and sitting beside you. He leaves a few inches of space between your bodies and carefully drapes the blanket over you.

Your shivers diminish but don’t subside entirely as you grasp the blanket and draw it closer. Marc whispers your name, thinking you might be awake. No response. He stretches his legs out and watches while he takes calming breathes, not wanting to force Steven or Jake to the front unexpectedly.

What are you seeing now? What terror of his past are you being subjected to?

--

The cave is damp and cold, and even as the memory guides you into the cramped space after two little boys, you know what is going to happen. The water is icy cold as it rises around your feet, getting higher and higher as the screams get louder and echo back on themselves in an overwhelming cacophony of sound.

You want to scream, to escape, but you are as trapped and helpless as the boys, as Marc. 

A warmth fills the space next to you. It’s unexpected and a sharp contrast to the cold water. It feels calmer, and part of your mind realizes it’s something in the real world even if you aren’t consciously aware of that fact. After a long pause you reach for the warmth, gravitating to the comforting feeling of the presence even as your mind pulls you violently into another memory.

--

Marc startles as your head falls on his thigh. A moment later your arm wraps around his waist. Without thinking, he smooths a hand over your hair and secures the blanket around your shoulders. He looks down at your face that is turned toward him, eyes shut, but there is no recognition of where you are or who you are with.

“Now you have to tell her we like her,” Steven tries to cut Marc’s nervous tension with some humor.

“Oh, it’s ‘we’ now?” Jake joins in on the gentle ribbing. “I didn’t realize I was pining uselessly too.”

Marc can find no humor as he feels your tears soaking through his pants.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he replies into the head space, using a harsh tone that silences the other alters. “She’s seen in our head. No one in their right mind wants within five feet of that mess.”

Marc tilts his head back and slams his eyes shut as he draws in a trembling breath. His throat hurts with the effort of holding back tears. He never wanted you to see these terrible parts of himself, so he had avoided you despite his attraction. All that time pretending to hate you had amounted to nothing.

Every so often you whimper and cuddle closer, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh and pressing your forehead against his stomach. You should have left him there in that prison of his own mind. If you had, you wouldn’t be suffering like this now.

Your skin is soft under his touch as he runs his fingers over your bare arm. He holds you like that for hours, sometime fixing the blanket. It’s not moving, but he does it anyway as a sort of nervous tick.

“Marc,” Steven interrupts that series of self-destructive thoughts with a gentle voice. “Easy, mate. You’re pulling me forward.”

“Sorry,” Marc apologizes quickly and swipes at his cheeks. Now he was crying too. 

“S’okay,” Steven replies. “You shouldn’t think stuff like that though.”

Right as Marc is forming a reply, you jerk awake and pull back from whoever it is you’re laying on. Bucky, probably. He’s always warm and comforting.

After a long moment of composing yourself, you drop your hands to look up at Bucky.

Instantly you bury your face in your hands, swiping tears from your cheeks as your mind reels from the memories you had just witnessed. Over the years, you had become quite adept at not giving people ‘that look’ - the pitying and condescending look people give others after hearing about their past. But how the hell were you going to look at Marc now?

It’s not Bucky. No, it’s not Bucky at all. It’s Marc. You are stunned into silence for a few seconds, and the only emotion on your face has to be shock because Marc Spector - who hated you more than anyone ever had - just sat with you through your aftershocks. Marc Spector had let you cuddle up against him.

You draw the blanket closer. It is freezing in the room.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you assure him quickly in a voice tinged with sadness. That must be why he is here. Nat or maybe Bruce explained everything, and he’s afraid that you will tell the other Avengers about his past.

“I didn’t mean to see all that,” you continue when he says nothing. “I can’t help them, I swear. But I don’t tell people what I see in the aftershocks… ever. So, uh,” you stumble over your words as he continues to stare at you. “You don’t ever have to hear from me again. You can go.”

When he doesn’t, you turn and roll out of bed. Your bed. Your bed that Marc is in. The second you go to stand your knees buckle, and you crash to the ground

Now you’ve seen the worst parts of Marc’s life - of the system’s life - laid bare in front of you, and your emotions that should be numb to such things are as sensitive as exposed nerves. You are barely holding yourself together, and you certainly aren’t stable enough to maintain an authoritative tone to get control of this situation. Instead you are stumbling over your words and practically begging Marc to go.

Before you can register the pain of the fall, Marc jumps out of bed and is holding you around the waist and pulling you up. You grasp his shirt and in a wildly self-destructive moment press your head into the curve of his neck, breathing in his scent, letting his warmth calm you until you are steady enough to step back on your own.

“You’re cold,” you mutter, noting the goosebumps on his skin again. You pass your blanket over to him. “Here.”

He could never deserve someone like you. You can barely stand, are clearly on the verge of tears, and definitely cold yourself, and yet you are giving him your blanket without a second thought. You are worrying about what he needs instead of taking care of yourself. You’re too good for him.

“Stop that,” Jake growls from far back in the head space. “Help her if you’re so worried.”

“Easy on him, Jake.” Steven agrees with Jake, but he would have said it in a nicer way.

“What do you do now?” Marc still has his hands out in case you fall again, one holding the blanket.

“Eat. Drink water. Go back to bed,” you murmur and walk slowly past the attractive man without looking up. “I’m not going to tell anyone, Marc. You don’t have to be nice. This isn’t blackmail.”

He follows you all the way to the kitchen, abandoning the blanket on the bed. Marc stands with his arms crossed while he watches you dig through the fridge. Eventually you produce a Tupperware of soup (Thor has been experimenting with cooking since becoming a father) and pop it into the microwave.

Five seconds. That’s all the time you give yourself to school your expression into something that doesn’t reek of pity and turn to look at Marc. Three. Two. You watch the green lights tick down the seconds. One.

Marc speaks first, which is good because you had no idea what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

A beat. People didn’t usually acknowledge what you might have seen. On the rare occasions you mind walked into someone you knew, both of you pretended the aftershocks never happened. This acknowledgment is… refreshing.

“I’m sorry you had to live it.”

Marc takes a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water. He hands it to you then gets his own. Steven and Jake have gone, leaving him alone with you as you watch the microwave work and drink your water.

“Thanks for coming in after me,” he finally says. That’s the best way he knows how to concede that you were right about them needing help. “You knew the after-whatever would happen, and you did it anyway. So… thanks.”

The microwave beeps and you take out the soup.

“Aftershocks,” you correct.

“Pedantic-” He hesitates, meaning to make a joke but remembering his earlier use of the same word.

“Bitch?” You offer, a bit sadly. The insult still stings because you still like him. He’s an ass, but you still like him.

He looks down, suitably chastised, and even though you think he deserves it, you can’t help but feel a little bit bad. And confused. You aren’t sure what is going on, just that this is the longest real life conversation you have ever had with any part of the Moon Knight system. That and you’d woken up cuddling with Marc, who apparently your subconscious considered safe enough to cuddle with.

You can feels his eyes on you as you scarf down the whole container. Thor really had gotten good at cooking. The empty container gets abandoned in the sink. You’ll take care of it tomorrow.

Right now you have a round of nightmares to work through. That was the last part of the aftershocks- besides the days of exhaustion. Technically the nightmares weren’t caused by your powers. It was just the brain’s natural response to seeing traumatic events, part of your mind processing the aftershocks into your memory. Sometimes you didn’t even have nightmares. Sometimes they lasted for days.

You had a sickening feeling you had quite a few restless nights coming.

“’Night Marc.” You raise your glass to him in a mock salute, trying to ignore how good he looks in the moon’s glow, the only source of light in the kitchen.

“Wait!”

You’re already to your room, and you freeze, hand on the door, and turn to see him running down the hall.

“What did you see?” He stops right in front of you.

“Marc, I-” What can you possibly say that will convince him you won’t tell anyone? You don’t want his fake niceties or insincere gratitude. You don’t want him living in fear that you’ll out his traumatic childhood.

You look down and away from those big sad brown eyes. Then his hand settles hesitantly on your cheek and turns your head up.

“I don’t care if you tell people,” he starts, and his gaze captures your own. “I care if you’re alright, and if you saw even half of my worst memories then you’re not. You were in my head, and it’s a fucking mess in there. My mind is broken.”

He says the final word just as you whisper, “Beautiful.”

“What?” It’s raw confusion in his voice as he drops his hand and genuinely believes he misheard you.

“Your mind is beautiful.” You swallow hard, still holding that eye contact that makes you feel naked. “Whoever told you otherwise is wrong.”

There’s a brief moment where Marc’s cynicism wants to control his reaction, but as he studies your face, he can find no lie. His mouth moves, but no words come out.

“I’ve been in a lot of minds,” you continue, suddenly feeling nervous, almost like you’re about to confess your feelings to a crush. “I’ve never seen any as elaborate as yours. Most people are just empty voids with some strange and inefficient filing system, but yours was like a whole world.” The words are coming faster now, and you can’t stop them. “And you’re strong. I always have control on my mind walks. I don’t get hurt, but I was bleeding. I had no control” Maybe you are doing the superhero equivalent of confessing feelings. “Your mind is incredible, Marc, and I’m so sorry for the things you went through that made it that way. But it’s not broken for creating what and who you needed to survive-”

Marc’s lips are warm. His lips are warm, and you know that because he is kissing you, cutting off your awestruck confession with a kiss so passionate you forget how to breathe. He covers your whole mouth with his, slipping his tongue into the kiss in a way that you would consider disgusting if it were anyone else. One of his rough hands is on your cheek, the other cages the back of your head, keeping you close and creating a barrier between your skull and the wall Marc pushes you into.

His whole body presses against you, and only then do you realize you’ve been kissing him back with just as much passion as he’s giving you.

When he finally pulls away, it’s only because even superheroes need to breathe. Marc’s forehead falls against yours as he takes an unsteady breath. Then another. His fingers are drawing small circles against your skin, a motion he doesn’t notice.

You look at his face- the red flush of his cheeks in the dim light, the small part of his lips, the broad swath of his nose that bumps against your own, those beautiful wide brown eyes that you want to melt into.

A potential love interest. That’s what Steven had said, and now you have time to really consider the implications of a comment you had been too busy to deal with earlier.

“Marc Spector,” you whisper his name like you’re saying a prayer. “You pretended to hate me to protect me from seeing inside your head, but all this time… all this time you had feelings?”

Marc feels the self-doubt creeping in.

“I’m gonna tell you right now, hermano,” Jake can hear Marc’s thoughts, knows what he’s about to say. “You say a thing about not being good enough for her, and I’m going to take the body and put our head through that wall.”

“Bloody hell, Jake! Don’t do- never mind. Alright look, Marc, it’s not up to us to decide if we’re good enough for her, it’s up to her. She clearly likes you, so… you know... keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Marc?” You bring your hands to his face. He has a shadow of stubble that is rough to the touch.

“Bruce said you might have nightmares. I’ll stay with you. If you want.”

It’s not a straight answer to your question, but it is definitely an answer. And it’s the answer you wanted. Marc likes you.

“You can stay, but they can get kinda bad.” You try to offer him an out, not wanting to scare him off when you wake up sobbing about a memory from his childhood. “I know you’re tired too.”

He’s having none of it as he shakes his head and pushes open your door, letting you lead the way inside. You change in your bathroom, brush your teeth quickly, and leave a spare toothbrush out for Marc. While he’s in the bathroom, you tuck yourself into bed feeling strangely nervous at the prospect of sleeping beside someone who was more than a platonic friend. It had been a long time since you’d done that.

You’re staring up at the ceiling when Marc crawls under the covers and turns out the light. He lays on his back too and feels for your hand to lace your fingers together.

“Can I- can I lay on you?”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest as he drops your hand and opens his arms to you instead. You scoot closer and rest your head on chest, tossing an arm over his midsection, and pressing yourself close. He smooths circles across your back with his one hand and with the other toys with your fingers splayed across his ribs.

“Marc?”

“Hm?”

“I might have understated earlier.” Your voice shakes. Already your body is anticipating the nightmares, pumping anxiety inducing adrenaline through your system and making you tremble. “The nightmares are gonna be really bad, so you can leave if I keep you up.”

Marc leans forward to kiss the top of your head, a contact that is remarkably intimate. “I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I’m kind of an expert at sleepless nights.”

--

My Masterlist

Taglists (Want to be added? Click here.)

**This is a mess. Some people won’t tag. I’ve definitely missed people. I’m so so sorry!

MK Taglist: @love-on-the-murder-scene @bookfrog242 @irethepotato @graciexmarvel @simonsbluee @nagemasstuff @whovian378 @cringingmemeries @eerievixen @velyssaraptor @lethalbeautiful @mixerya92 @marrigold-2002 @sugarpunch-princess @slytherheign @simping-master-69 @bristark616 @kotonei-molyneux @slasherssexslave @luna-maximoff-22 @fantasy-is-best @dd242 @harrys-tittie @fandomgal64 @7minutes-tomidnight @deliciousblackfatcat @rqmanoff @xzombiealicex @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @femalemarvelself @hopefulfangirl24 @ale0m @a1tbunny   @in-between-the-cafes @leh2393 @coffee-prince-kyungsoo @hopefulfangirl24 @hb8301 @mrsxreeves @alicetweven  @woofgocows @blulemonades @alicetweven   @queenie-rebel @snowinseptember @copingchaos @n1ght5h4d3-24 @chickenfoot6969 @splashofbi @maplemind @death-by-teacup @littlenosoul @local-mr-frog @knopewyattworld @paintmekala @chaoticevilbakugo @sparkythefallen1 @bex-tk1 @rellasnowheenim @huitzilinthebudgie3 @brookiebarnes  @aduckinpain @ashes-136667

MK Taglist who I’m having trouble tagging: @parkeeepingparker @hoe4fiction @1337animeami @stxrielle @kezibear @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @welcometostayingawake @jvstjewels  @laters-gators12 @infinityparadoxloop @wolf-phoenix-lover

Other people who interacted with part 1: @spider-biter @brekkers-desigirl @elliaze @thescarletredwitch @calicokitkat @stargazingcarol @jupitersmoon167 @virtie333 @juneknight

Feel free to message me if you want taken off a list or untagged from this post!

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight x f!reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x f!reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #marc spector #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x f!reader #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight hurt/comfort #moon knight angst #marc spector hurt/comfort #marc spector angst #bensolosbluesabermasterlist #bensolosbluesaber #someone like you #mcu #marvel

[gammacousin]

Do you agree with me that one of the greatest sins of the MCU was to abandon the relationship between Bruce and Natasha? M

Hey M!

Yes! The chemistry between Bruce and Natasha was obvious ever since Avengers 1. They grew as the film progressed from being cautious around each other, to respecting one another for their strengths and contributions.

The best thing that happened between them was Age of Ultron, where you can clearly see that the years working together made them closer. He checks on her, she checks on him. There are layers that have been building since the day they met.

The jabs throughout Infinity War and Endgame, (Natasha referencing how much she knew about Quantum Theory; ‘Only to make conversation’ Come on…who else would she have been talking about that with?)

In Endgame, they still had all of this chemistry. Making jokes about ‘you can’t say things like that’. And Smart Hulk at the end admitting he tried to save her.

Why Marvel didn’t just commit to it is a great tragedy. They could’ve been a dynamic couple.

What continues to infuriate me is ignoring that this was a canon relationship in the materials they’ve put out since.

The characters cared about each other whether the fans want to admit it or not. On screen, they kissed, and admitted to feelings. If not a continued full on romance, a relationship of mutual respect was portrayed going forward.

To ignore even their friendship in this new content is as Loki would say; ‘absurd’

#bruce banner #natasha romanoff #black widow #brutasha #banneroff #marvel #marvel movies #natanner #Bruce banner x Natasha romanoff #Natasha Romanova #Natasha Romanov #hulk #smart hulk

[whosmarii]

Nefer.

Summary:

Maybe the only way you can learn about your powers is with shock therapy. You didn't even know the extent they have. So S.H.I.E.L.D decided to send you on a mission they belived not to be Avenger typa deanger, they were wrong. Marc Spector case seems to be much more profound and obscure that it appears.

*This chapter is just a preface (it literally says prologue lol) so take that into account,

*Reader is fem and already has a name (you are Nefer dear), but you can like completely ignore that name and use yours.

Prologue.

It is 4am. You usually wake up at that hour, the training is beyond all bearing and you already state that you'll never use pills to the stress cause by it.

" You have to be able to control your brain on your own Nefer, if not, you'll have to be put down." That's what Nicholas Fury told you when S.H.I.E.L.D take you in. You think just like him, what it's going to be of you if your wellbeing depends on a pharmacist with a chemical engineering degree who just wants to capitalize on your suffering so that you buy more of his Lorazepam.

Anyways, he wasn't refering to that when he said that sentence. Nicholas meant that you need to be able to control your powers, so you can finally be a confirmed Avenger.

It's frustrating, seeing everyone around you having a symbiosis with their supernatural abilities. Even Peter with just 15 years did it in less than a week. But you couldn't do it in 19 years, not even when 5 of those years consisted on studying your might, a fucking failure.

In fact, if it weren't for Tony, Bruce and their test, today you would still not know the label of your powers. Apparently you can somehow work with Love and beauty but we don't exactly know the dimension of this. You always suspected it tho.

"Denisse could you take care of Nefertiti for a few minutes, please?" Said Carmela, Nefertitis mother, leaving the living room leaving no place for a response. "Aren't you the most cute girl hm?" said aunt Denisse looking right at the baby of 1 year old in front of her. The little girl stretched her arms to try and touch her belly. "Oh, you like my t-shirt? look it has color pink! you like color pink right Nefi?" Nefertiti smiled at her, trying to say something but failing because of her lack of speaking ability, still she managed to mumble some words, or an attempt of them. "baba- babs-bybybyby" "Baba? papa? you want your daddy? your dada? i'll go find him baby" baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby. That was the word. baby, baby, baby, baby. "baba- babababa- byyy-baaaa by- baby-baby-baby" the child yelled the word alone in the living room. Of course the sound alerted the whole family making everyone run towars the living room, just to find Nefer repeting the word baby with her eyes closed. "I can't belive this... Anton, get the camera! Nefer is saying her first word!!!" said the mother of the little girl to her husband, kneeling in front of her to praise her for her intelligence. Meanwhile aunt Denisse remaind standing in the doorframe with a frown on her face. Nefertiti's first word was baby and she was uncontrollably saying it, now with her eyes open looking right on hers. A few seconds later Carmela notice the weird behavior, she thought that maybe Denisse or her husband were making silly faces and movements so her baby would look at them. But when she looks backwards the only thing she sees is her sister touching her belly. "Baby in here?" mutters Denisse while pointing at her belly. Nefertitis smile gets bigger and she starts nodding with her head. Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. "Are you pregnant..?" "Yes."

Your mother would always tell you that story. How did you know your aunt was pregnant? no one knows, no, actually you do now. You guess that it is one of your abilities. You don't exacly know how the fuck could could you use that for an Avenger mission but at least you knew it was your thing.

Your family also told you storys about how you would talk about couples that weren't actually together and years later got married. At first everyone thought that maybe you could see the future but that wasn't it.

Or about the many times people would do what you told them to do just because you were the prettiest girl they ever saw. And i'm talking about an extreme dimension. People doing ilegal things on autopilot just because a pretty 7 year old girl told them to.

Bruce says that you have some type of higher intelligence when it comes to femenine aspects like fertility and love and that you clearly have some type of absolute beauty that if you learn how to use, it could be very powerful.

But for now, you are useless. You can't be on Avengers missions if you don't know when are your powers going to strike and in who are they going to strike. That's why you have to wake up at 4 am every day to train your powers. That's what you been doing for the last 5 years.

And that definitly has to change now.

#steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight #moon boys #moon system #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant fic #steven grant imagine #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector fic #marc spector imagine #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley fic #jake lockley imagine #steven grant x avenger reader #moonsystem x reader