writer84

[writer84]

"You stole all the covers and got me cold, so it's only fair I steal your underwear and get warm inside you"

😳 wow, that's a hot line 🥵 daaamn

It's your friend's older brother, Bucky, with whom you're sharing a bed in a small mountain lodge (because your friend and her boyfriend selfishly took the other available bed, telling you that you and Bucky are mature adults who can simply share a bed without making it awkward).

Bucky's a mountain range guide and is taking care of your small group for free. He's very stern about safety and proper behavior on hiking trails, but also caring and answers all your curious questions about the area, flora, as well animals roaming the mountain range.

He's also very handsome and a little intimidating, even when he speaks in that soft, low tone.

So when he slowly slides your shorts down your legs, while pining you down to the mattress, you can only stare at him with wide eyes and increasing heart rate.

His thumb draws lazy circles on your clit while he compliments you - how sweet you are, how beautiful, how smart, You're a good girl, ain't you baby?

You're already a tad wet, but not wet enough not to feel the burn of his cock sliding inside you. Bucky's fast, clamping his hand over your mouth when you nearly scream. But the drag of his length inside of you is slow. He's cherishing every second of it.

[writer84]

"We shouldn't-" your voice wavered as Chris unzipped your denim shorts and pushed them down.

You already felt exposed in what he insisted you wear, but now he was depriving you even of the scraps that barely covered your body.

"We're undercover and- and-" you tried to reason with him, but your brain seemed unable to follow the reasonable thinking.

Definitely not with Chris getting down on his knees, kissing his way down your body as he did.

His breath was hot on your skin; big, calloused hands rough on your trembling body.

You braced your hands against the rickety bathroom counter, gaze flicking up to the door which Chris purposely left unlocked.

"Exactly," came his reply, voice dark and sweet as honeyed whiskey. "They should believe you're my good little slut. And in their eyes this is what sweet pieces are for."

He pulled your panties down and hoisted one of your legs over his shoulder.

"They get licked into a drippy mess in a cramped bathroom at a gang's house and then pumped full of cum."

His nostrils flared as Chris leaned to your already damp heat. You saw a smirk forming on his lips as he looked up at you, a dark gleam of satisfaction in his steely-blue eyes.

"So make sure they hear you moan, baby. And keep begging like a needy slut I know you are for me."

[writer84]

under the cut, because it's a tiny bit debauched 🤭

"We need to take these off, Snowflake. They're wet." Steve slowly pulls your panties down your legs, tutting when you close your thighs.

"You made them wet," you pout, hiding your face in your hands.

"I simply wanted to help you relax before dinner. Good husbands do such nice things for their wives."

Steve drops your underwear to the floor then gently pushes your knees apart, exposing your glistening folds to his gaze. Just some kissing and few strokes of his fingers between your thighs and you were ready to take him.

Exactly how he trained you.

Sheltered from the world for so long, you had little knowledge about relationships (even less about sex), even though you were in your twenties. You lost your mom as a kid and your father kept you under lock like a princess in a tower, saying bad men who wanted to hurt him, would try hurting you too.

Until the day he introduced you to Steve, marking him as your future husband.

If at first you sensed that your father was scared of Steve, you quickly dismissed it as impossible. Steve was so very well mannered, charming and attentive.

He made you feel safe, if a little nervous.

You saw some men working for your father lose their temper, but Steve was so patient as he introduced you to wifely duties.

He kissed and cradled you as you cried a little when he took your virginity. Rewarded you every time you did something that pleased him.

And when you got wet and squirmy, he praised you, because that's how a good wife should be. Always wet for her husband.

"I'll wear a clean pair," you mumble, embarrassed.

"Hmm, no. No, I think you should wear nothing beneath your dress." Steve's thumbs brushed the outside of your folds.

"Steve!" You gasp, feeling heat rise to your chest and face at the thought of serving the guests with a naked bottom under the skirt.

"You're still wet, Snowflake. You'll just ruin another pair of panties," he reprimands you.

Standing up, Steve reaches his hand out for you to take, helping you up on your feet.

"Come on, you have to finish pie for dessert. If you're still drippy after dinner, I'll clean you up with my tongue."

[writer84]

Are you making more drabbles or series of farmer Steve because

Well, it was a spontaneous reply to an ask only, but I always could write some more bits in the future if a fun prompt happened my way 😎

Which is something you tell yourself after that unexpected, spontaneous kiss you dared to initiate when Steve braced his hands on both sides of the wooden fence you were sitting on.

After spending a nearly whole day with him, watching him tend to his animals, awkwardly trying to help out with some tasks - which resulted in a lot of laughing and Steve encouraging you - you felt drawn to him. To his smile; to his calm demeanor; to the care he showed you, his stock, even the wild raspberry bushes growing next to his house.

So when he caged you in between his arms and his irresistibly hot body, flashing that charming smile at you as he teased your bending form, you couldn't help yourself.

You kissed him.

And Steve responded. Deepened it. Made your body sway backwards and held you safe in place with hands that found their way to your hips and back.

His grunted, barely audible 'Mega stirred something in your core.

Still, you broke the kiss with a gasp and slid down the fence; your body brushing along Steve's as you did.

You left him with a promise of bringing him pie tomorrow, then went back to your grandma's house. With each step you took away from Steve, you repeated the words in your head - It's only a hot kiss. I'm going back to the city soon. Only a kiss.

[writer84]

ALPHA FARMER STEVE

Farmer alpha Steve who is a kind, quiet man who prefers living in seclusion and allows poor kids to ride his horses for free and always brings an extra can of milk and a small basket of eggs for the old lady that's his only close neighbor?

Who happens to be your grandma whom you visit one early autumn, only to fall head over heels for the handsome alpha and somehow decide that living in the countryside with your alpha is much better than going back to the busy city and your career?

Who needs Starbucks and a potential promotion when you can try out your grandma's recipes to later share a meal with your alpha, and also be bent over a hay stack and get your life pounded out of you, right? Going out with your girlfriends is less fun than riding Steve until he deems you're full enough.

That farmer alpha Steve?

[writer84]

To Have and To Hold-

And to Fuck Whenever I Want

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

C/W: Shameless smut. It’s our favorite dirty talkin’, 107 year old super soldier fucking you (his wife) on your period.

Gimme beefy Bucky coming home late, long after his kids are in bed for the night and finding his pretty little wife curled up on the couch with a frown on her perfect face, watching some shitty ass movie.

His cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you in his tshirt and an audible groan rises up from his throat when he rounds the corner completely and notices you’ve chosen to forgo pajama pants altogether. Those innocent little cotton briefs of yours always do him in.

“What’s wrong, momma?” He asks in a low, gravely voice as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, resting a large hand on your bare thigh.

“Cramps.” You reply flatly, not taking your gaze off the garbage rom-com playing on the tv, though you’ve seen it numerous times.

“Oh.” He breathes out, glancing over his shoulder at the dry-erase calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen that you use to manage your large family’s schedule. “Hm. Two days early?” He asks.

“Yeah, two fucking days early.” You snap, shifting in your seat.

He keeps his grasp firm on your thigh, offering an affectionate squeeze.

“You feelin’ that bad, huh?” He asks in a soft voice that he reserves only for you.

You nod, finally pulling your attention away from the television and turning it onto him. The only light source in the room at this time of night is from the flashing scenes across the flatscreen but that little bit of illumination is all he needs to see how glassy your eyes are.

“Oh, baby girl.” He murmurs, pushing your hair back off your face. “Lemme take care of you.”

You shake your head, knocking free a few of the tears that had been brimming your lash line. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help.”

He scoffs, his hand sliding up the soft flesh of your thigh until his fingertips brush the hem of your underwear.

“No. Baby, no.” You protest, bringing your hand down to stop him but his vibranium hand is faster, catching your wrist and pushing it away.

“Yes. Baby, yes.” He muses, slipping his index finger under the fabric and gently wrapping the string of your tampon around it.

“Bucky, that’s disgusting.” You hiss, frowning at him. “I’m on my period.”

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle as he slowly and carefully begins to tug. “It’s just blood, momma. You think me of all people would be bothered by blood?” He asks softly.

You pause, considering your answer but in your silence he continues. “Besides, wasn’t that part of the vows we exchanged in that sweet little church before God? To have and to hold and to fuck whenever I want?”

“That was not in our vows and you know it.”

“Hm, they weren’t? We should consider renewing those.” He replies with a crooked smirk as he pulls your tampon free, tossing it over the couch and into the waste bin with precision.

“I gotta be honest, baby girl. If the good lord hadn’t intended for me to fuck you everytime my cock was hard, he wouldn’t have blessed you with such a perfect little pussy.”

“Bucky..” you warn, sitting upright as he rises off the couch.

He shushes you, his large hands moving to unbuckle his belt as your eyes settle on the tented crotch of his jeans.

“If you think-“ He mumbles, pulling the leather through the silver buckle and unbuttoning his jeans with his thick fingers. “That I’m not going to bury myself balls deep inside my wife any and every chance I get- you are sorely mistaken.” He tells you matter of factly, tugging his jeans down his defined waist and kicking them unceremoniously aside in a pile at the foot of the couch. “Now take off those sweet little panties before I tear them off of you.”

You hesitate, swallowing down the whimper that rose up in your throat at his command.

“I said, off.” He repeats sternly, stepping out of his boxers and wrapping a hand around his weeping cock. He pumps himself lazily once, twice, in your hesitation before letting out an impatient growl and reaching forward to curl his vibranium fingers under the waistband of underwear, not allowing you a second more to protest before tearing them effortlessly off of your body.

“Now, are you gonna follow my instructions or will I have to pick you up and set you down where you belong?” He asks in a gruff whisper, his blue eyes darkening with desire.

“And where exactly do you think I belong?” You ask him defiantly, pulling at his last thread of patience.

“You-“ He growls, grasping your wrists in a punishing grip and yanking you to your feet. He jerks you towards him as he looms over you, his head dipped down to hold your gaze and his impossibly hard cock pressing against your abdomen, leaving a smear of precum across the soft skin of your belly.

“You belong wrapped around me.” He murmurs, cupping your jaw gently and brushing the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip in an affectionate sentiment that felt like such a stark contrast to the aggression he’d just been displaying. It was the little gestures that betrayed that dominance in him, that assured you that this powerful man standing so needy before you loved you so much that he’d do anything for you without question.

You lean into his touch and he lets out a low and breathy moan.

“You belong wrapped around me, momma.” He continues. “Crying out my name. Soakin’ my cock with your sweet, sweet-“ He pauses, his length twitching as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I need you.” he chokes out, settling his hands on each side of your hip and he lifts you effortlessly, sinking you down inch by inch onto his throbbing cock.

He plants his feet and bends his knees, supporting your weight as he cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh while he allows you the opportunity to anchor your arms around his neck. A shameless moan rises from your throat, your head tipping back in the pleasure of him buried balls deep within you as he walks you backwards to press your back to the wall. A low and cocky chuckle is all the warning he gives you before he draws his hips back, thrusting up into you hard enough to kiss your cervix. Choked gasps tear from your chest as he picks up a steady rhythm, massaging your aching walls with every deep rut of his hips.

“I thought-“ He hissed through gritted teeth, dipping his head to nip at your pulse point. “You said nothing would help.”

You shake your head, mumbling incoherently and letting your head fall against your shoulder to allow him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Seems like it’s helping.” He muses, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. You whimper, tightening your legs around his waist as he slows his pace into long, deep strokes, groaning as he savors the way you grip him, the feeling of your building orgasm causing his hips to stutter just the slightest.

“Fuck, momma. You have.. the most.. perfect.. cunt.” He rasps out, emphasizing each of the last words with a brutal thrust.

You break with that last deep roll of his hips, the tension that was coiled tight in your abdomen snapping with a burst of white hot ecstacy, a broken cry escaping your heaving chest as your walls spasm around him.

“Oh God, that’s it. Come on my cock, come all over daddy’s cock.” He grunts, snapping his hips and increasing his tempo to fuck you through the dizzying waves of your release.

“Jamie..” You whimper, reaching a trembling hand to caress his jaw.

His name on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound, causing his breath to catch and his eyes flutter closed with a low and raspy moan. He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm before you trail your fingertips down his shoulders in a featherlight touch. He buries his face into your neck, his short, sharp pants hot against your skin, his movements growing sloppy and erratic as he hangs on by a mere thread.

“I’m- I-“ He chokes out, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle the primal groan that rips through his chest as his balls draw up and his cock pulses, emptying himself inside you with one last powerful thrust.

He’s still for a moment, working to catch his breath before he tightens his arms around you, peppering gentle kisses along your jaw as he lowers you to the floor on wobbly legs and you sway, stumbling forward slightly.

“Momma.” He says softly, splaying a large hand against the base of your skull and drawing you into his chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m alright.” You assure him, a hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest under your ear. “I’m feeling much, much better.”

He smiles, tucking your head under his chin just to feel you close to him a moment longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you in a hot bath.”

His hands trail along your spine in a soothing motion, goosebumps prickling along your flushed skin in response to his touch.

“To have and to hold.” He whispers, pressing a firm kiss to your temple.

You grin against his chest, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.

“And to fuck whenever you want.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

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[writer84]

Pinky promise

*gif by @marvelheroes*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - Tis part of my donut series which is linked in masterlist. You can just read it for the smut tho, smut usually doesn’t have anything to do with plot🥴🥴

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - Steve yells at you but promises not do it again. But then he had to teach you a lesson too…

Warnings - 18+ONLY, smut(m/f), some assplay, spanking, daddy kink, brat tamer Steve, angst, references to stalking, more to come in future chapters.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 4.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

He traced the bridge of your nose with his finger, ever so lightly, his touch barely there so as not to wake you from your peaceful slumber. He smiled at the way you cutely scrunched up your nose when he withdrew his finger.

With your hand across his chest, both your legs over his thighs - you were pretty much sleeping on top of him - clinging to him like a koala. Not that he’d complain. He couldn’t be happier.

Most nights he can barely sleep for two hours, if that wasn’t interrupted by his consistent nightmares - but with you everything felt so serene. He hoped to make you feel the same way.

“No more kale,” you murmured in your sleep.

He frowned, what the hell were you dreaming about?

After your first time together he had given you a nice bath, washed your hair. His bathtub was too small to fit both of you so he simply helped wash you up and then help you into his t-shirt. He never knew he would find his clothes so sexy on you. He wondered how big the baths in the tower’s apartments were. Surely they could fit the both of you. Maybe then he could bathe with you and more…

Keep reading

[writer84]

Protector - Steve Rogers x YN 🪶🥰 (a little bit of 😫 at the start)

Summary: You’re taking forever to leave the house and you’re going to be late for Stark’s party, resulting in Steve’s growing frustration. He loses his patience and you confess the real reason you take your time before you leave – you feel anxious. He becomes your protector for the evening, ensuring you feel safe at all times.

Contains: Comforting, protective boyfriend Steve. He’s giving more ‘parent’ than ‘partner,’ but it is what it is. Praise kink if you squint.

Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety. Steve shouting at you out of frustration, but he apologises immediately afterwards, and it’s due to a misunderstanding.

Words: 1,900

A/N: The way Steve comforts her is @simplyholl’s brilliant headcanon.

“Come on, honey.”

It was the third time he’d said it. And his patience was wearing thin.

“Okay, okay, I just need to grab a bottle of water….” You scurried to the fridge, heart racing as it always did. Steve didn’t know why. He couldn’t know why.

He sighed. “They have drinks there.” His voice fell quiet. Defeated. “That’s why we’re goin’ after all.” He shook his head.

“Okay okay I’ll just be two seconds, I just need to get - “

“You know if I didn’t know better. I’d think you were doing this on purpose. You’re always teasing me about being Sergent Punctuality.”

Halfway up the stairs, you turned. You noticed Steve’s hands resting on his hips.

“What? Steve, no, I just need to grab one more thing - “

He rolled his eyes, glancing around the kitchen. He looked at his watch. You weren’t late. Not yet. But if you left it any longer, you would be. Your rapid footsteps alerted him to your reappearance, grabbing your bag and frantically searching through it. “Okay I have my phone, keys, lip balm, wallet - “

In two long strides he was beside you, a firm hand on your forearm. “Honey,” his voice was stern. “We have to go.”

“Yeah, I know, just let me check if I-“

“I’m serious.” His arms were folded now.

You swallowed. “Yeah…. sure, let me just - “

“That’s it. Get your bag right now, we’re leaving. No more of this.”

“Baby, I - “

“No!” He slammed a hand on the kitchen counter in pure frustration. The bark in his voice made you flinch. You felt as though the echo of his yell was rattling around in your ears and jiggling your brain. You absolutely couldn’t handle it. Not now.

You inhaled sharply, placing one palm up in surrender and the other pushed firmly into the marble countertop, steadying yourself. “Steve, please, please don’t raise your voice at me.” Your hand pressed to your tummy, breath quickening. You felt physically nauseous.

He frowned in concern and his voice immediately softened. He had never, ever shouted at you before today. He didn’t mean to… it was pure frustration. He lost it. And he felt deeply, deeply ashamed of himself.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I got mad for a second. It’ll never happen again, I promise.” He got a better look at you and realised something was wrong beyond his yelling. Had he missed something? He rested his hand on your shoulder, leaning down to get a better look at you. Your eyes remained squeezed shut. “Are you okay? Are you sick? Hey, hey… look at me. Please.” His voice cracked.

“Steve, I… just give me a second…” You stepped away from him, opening your eyes now but averting them from him. The jig was up. You had to confess. You sighed in resignation. “I… I’m not sick. And I’m not purposely making you late.” When you glanced to the side to gather your thoughts, he noticed your eyes were glassy. “I’m running around like this because…. well, I struggle with anxiety. And I get really anxious before I leave the house, especially when we’re going to something public like this. So when I’m grabbing different things, it might look nuts or it might be annoying - I’m sure it is - but I’m….” You made a circular gesture towards your brain, “I’m going over every eventuality, every what if, trying to figure out, if this happened, if that happened, what would I need to keep myself safe and would I have what I need to be okay.” Finally, you took a breath and looked up. The soldier in front of you had tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t know.” His voice was softer than you had ever heard it. Gentler than first thing in the morning. Sweeter than when you had the flu. Kinder than the time you watched him train and admitted you felt afraid of his physical strength.

He shook his head, a silent apology. He stepped forward tentatively, gesturing to your shoulders, as though he was asking if it was okay. When you nodded, he embraced you, holding you to his chest. Through the starched cotton of his shirt you could feel the warmth of his body. You felt him stroke your hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of making you feel safe.” You felt him kiss your temple. He pulled away just enough to look at you. “Why don’t you pick a movie, and I’ll put some popcorn on the stove.” His lips curled up in the softest of smiles as he looked at you. He didn’t expect you to frown in response.

“Steve, no - baby. You’re the sweetest. And I’m so grateful for you being so compassionate and understanding. But I still want to go out. I do.”

He was visibly confused. “Y- you’re sure?”

“I am sure.”

“Okay honey.” He held both of your hands, standing chest-to-chest with you, soft lips meeting your forehead. “I want you to know you never, ever have to feel worried when you’re with me, okay? I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

A lesser person would find it ironic. Why would you feel scared when you had a man with superhuman strength to fight off any adversary? What they would never understand is how he made you feel safe through his words, his actions and his empathy. His emotional safety. Steve made you feel safer than any other man before him. And it had fuck all to do with his biceps.

“Okay honey. I’m listening. Tell me what you need.” His hands rested protectively over your shoulders.

“Just, erm….” You blushed, suddenly feeling the intensity of his attention, as though you were the only thing that mattered. “Just a lot of patience. And support. Encouragement. And…. reassurance. Please.”

He let out a soft chuckle at how damn cute you looked when you glanced up at him, earning a kiss on the tip of your nose which crinkled under his touch.

He held your hand. “Is there anything else you need to get before we go, honey? Take your time getting it, and I’ll wait right here.”

You shook your head. “I’m good Steve. I’m ready to - wait, actually maybe I’ll pee before we leave.”

He chuckled as you wandered off. He pulled out his phone and texted Tony.

We might be a little late.

Back in the tower, Stark raised an eyebrow at military-punctual Rogers’ shocking statement.

Well you and your honeybun better not be playing hide the zucchini.

 Steve’s reply was a simple winking emoji.

“Something funny??” You poked him in the tummy playfully, Steve emitting his trademark “Ow!” despite barely even feeling it.

“Tony thinks we’re running late because we’re having sex.”

“And you’re gonna let him think that….?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. In response, he scrunched up his face in the cutest ‘Yeah I guess so’ expression you had ever seen.

He slid his arm around your waist and asked if you were okay to leave. You assured him you were. “You’re looking extra beautiful tonight.”

“Ahhh thanks baby! I’m just in the glow of my gorgeous boyfriend’s affection, and…. protection. Ooh! It rhymes.”

A protective hand on your lower back, which slid ever so slightly down towards the top of your butt, he walked you to the door and opened it for you, setting the security alarm and locking the front door of your house. He held your hand as you walked to his car, him swinging your hands slightly and looking over at you with a soft smile on his face.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the car door for you. Once inside, he reached over and fastened your seatbelt, a waft of his cologne filling your senses as he leaned over you. He drove into the city, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting protectively on your thigh.

Every little action was punctuated with a small statement of encouragement.

You’re okay.

It’s alright honey.

You’re doing great.

We’ll be there soon.

I’m proud of you.

You’re doing so well.

I love you.

If you need anything, just tell me. Anything at all.

You had never, in all your life, felt safer.

He kept you close at Tony’s party, his arm around your waist loosening as you became more comfortable and started to see familiar faces. Gradually, you progressed from practically leaning on his chest, to simply holding his hand, to your fingers intertwining, to small touches like brushing against your bare forearm with the pads of his fingertips.

You whispered to him that you were going to catch up with Nat. A stoic, “Sure,” was benign to onlookers. But his expression held strength. His eyes silently told you that if you needed him, he’d be right there. He sipped at his beer, looking up from his conversation with Rhodes to glance over at you, occasionally mouthing, “You okay?” When you responded with a nod and genuine smile, he beamed.

“I suppose I just…. I did wanna ask something.” He traced circles on your bare shoulder as you lay on his chest in your bed later that night.

“You can ask me anything, Steve.” You turned and looked up at him.

“Alright. Why didn’t you tell me? About what you were struggling with.”

“Well…” you prodded at his pec to lighten the mood. It did cause him to chuckle. “You’re superhuman. I figured, you wouldn’t understand. And even if you did…. it seems kinda insignificant compared to what you’ve been through. What you’ve faced.”

“Hey, first of all…” He booped your nose with his fingertip. “It’s not a contest. Trauma comes in all shapes and sizes. I see that with the veterans and… well, I know you didn’t exactly have it easy growin’ up. And….” He paused, swallowing his pride. “I do feel nervous, sometimes. Not as much now, obviously. But a couple years back, I was unsure a lot. Scared, even. Walking around New York City, feeling like I dropped into the future, not knowing how anything worked, being confused all the time….” He trailed off, lost in his memories, scrunching his face up in a way you hadn’t seen before. “…depending on other people to explain things to me. Phones, trains, cars, paying for stuff…. even the basics were different. And I was the only one who didn’t get it. Wasn’t exactly comfortable.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. I should have thought about how difficult that was for you.” The tears rimming your eyes broke his heart.

He shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, stroking your back. “You know, I almost didn’t take the job. The err… the serum. I didn’t know how he would affect me. If I would… respond well to the changes. To the attention. And if I didn’t, well… there was no going back. I felt pretty anxious the night before.”

“You do get it.”

“Yeah. But I didn’t have someone cute to help me through it, so.” He shrugged, pleased that he’d disguised a self-congratulatory compliment as a little joke. You gave him the satisfaction of a giggle.

“But…. I know I can’t make you feel safe, Steve. Not like you can for me. I realise that. And I’m sorry.”

Within moments, you both began feeling the pull of sleep, lulling you away from the shore like a strong tide. The last thing you heard before falling into the warm abyss was Steve’s groggy voice.

“Safety isn’t always physical. And you do make me feel safe, honey. I always feel safe with you.”

Taggos: @lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @flesh--amnesiacunrated @skymoonandstardust @alexakeyloveloki @cabingrlandrandomcrap @cakesandtom @mrs-illyrian-baby @muddyorbsblr @irishhappiness @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @glitchquake @dangertoozmanykids101 @animnerd @wavyhairedvixen @emarich7 @km-ffluv @thegodofnotknowing @simplyholl @acidcasualties @foxherder @salempoe @loz-3 @late-to-the-party-81 @mochie85 @loopsisloops @somewereinthegalaxi  @lokiandbuckysdoll @meg81589 @divine-knight-hand @goddessgirl43

[writer84]

Bucky’s accountant: “sir you’re spending a lot of money on mrs and miss barnes-“

Bucky: * glare* “are you saying they don’t deserve it?”

Bucky’s accountant: “n-never mind”

Bucky enjoys it when you spend his spend money. He's made it abundantly clear that he wants you to have a soft, luxurious life. He doesn't want you to have to worry about finances. He takes care of everything. That includes you. All you have to do is let him.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

CW: Little bit o' fluff, Little bit o' smut.

A/N: Unbeta'd drabble for the Bumblebee series.

Your name is on all the accounts, the deeds, his businesses (the legitimate ones anyway) and of course, it’s embossed on his black card. He loved giving you that. And he laughed when you asked about a limit. There isn’t one. He told you to get whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

Bucky knew from the jump that you were going to have reservations. He’s been working you through them.

So you can imagine how he felt the day his accountant knocked on his office door to inform him of a suspicious charge.

Bucky sits in his chair, staring impassively at Gregory as he lists off the recent expenses he discovered while reconciling Bucky’s accounts this morning. “...and there’s a charge for almost ten thousand at a supply shop. Some art place in Manhattan. And there’s another one at a bookstore for nearly a grand. I can have these reported—”

Bucky runs a hand down his face, revealing the beginning of a grin. The rare sight of the mobster smiling throws Gregory off kilter, causing him to trail off in disbelief.

10k on your hobbies? That’s his girl.

“I approve. In fact, I approve of everything she buys.”

“Sir. I must say that this seems excessive.”

“It’s not.” That smile is gone as quickly as it appears, and Gregory shrinks back in his chair. “I told her to spend at least ten times that this month. All her purchases are approved. No matter what she buys. My wife gets whatever she wants. Do you understand?”

His voice leaves a chill in the air and this time, when he smiles, it sends a slither of fear up the portly man’s spine.

“Yes, yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He’s dismissed without a word, leaving Bucky to contemplate all the ways he’s going to reward you tonight.

You crouch down, taking the small shopping bag off her shoulder and setting it next to the pile by the sofa. Straightening her light pink sleeve, you dust off the front of her dress. "Remember what we practiced."

Bee nods seriously. “I remembers Mommy.”

“When Papa asks what we bought today—”

“I say it’s our secrets,” she eagerly interrupts with a grin. “And then I run real fast.”

Bucky knocks on the open door. Once. Twice. “How’s my girls?”

“Hi, Papa!”

You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, hand in his pocket, and a curious glint in his eyes. “Hello sweet Bee. You have fun today? What’d you get me?”

She opens her mouth before shutting it when you poke her in the belly. “Our secrets.”

“Our secrets Papa.” She repeats, shrugging both shoulders. “Can’t tells you.”

“Aw, but I don’t have any.”

You know that tone even if your innocent, adorable baby doesn’t. Bee’s eyes soften and you can see her starting to cave. You have to intervene now before she tells him ‘jus’ one cause he needs it’.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as you defiantly gaze into the stormy depths of his piercing blue eyes.

“Don’t fall that Bumblebee. He already knows too many. Remember? You’re going to run over to your office so he doesn’t get anymore of our secrets and you’ll get two cupcakes after dinner. Ready?”

Bee takes a deep breath, gauging the distance between her and Bucky. “Weady.”

“Go!” you encourage, her giggles filling the room as she takes off. “Run Bee!”

Bucky shifts, stepping into the middle of the doorway, his six-foot-something frame filling the space. Pride blooms in his chest when she fearlessly keeps running towards him, skirting around his long legs with a mumbled ‘scuse me Papa."

You smother a laugh when she lets out a spirited cheer over making it out the room. The joy coursing through you fades to a thready hum of anticipation.

She may have made her getaway but you're very much trapped.

He waits until her giggles fade down the hallway and the sounds of Bluey filter out of her office. Then he turns all his attention to you.

“How much did you spend?” Bucky leans back against the doorframe, his eyes darkening as they skate over the bags to your pretty face.

“Enough.”

“I doubt it,” he hums under his breath. He holds up two long fingers, beckoning you closer. The seemingly innocent gesture is down right obscene because you have first-hand knowledge what those fingers are capable of. “Now it’s your turn. Let’s see if you can get past me.”

You don’t.

He lets you take about three steps before he grabs you. Kicks the door shut. Bends you over the side of the couch, knees sinking into cushions, your head hovering over the edge, near the bags you refuse to let him open. Takes you apart with his finger and tongue before splitting you open on his cock.

Praises you sweetly for spending his money while fucking you like he was punishing you for not spending more.

Which you both know he is.

He makes you work for it, makes you promise to treat yourself as good as he treats you, leaves you so desperate and on edge that you agree to everything that comes out of his mouth.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

All those little pleas drive his hips faster and deeper until they meld into an incomprehensible keen.

By the time you get there, that peak is so sharp and blinding it nearly hurts, leaving you drowning in a sea of overwhelming pleasure, your eyes rolling back, vision blurring as his hips grind into you, his thumb rubbing a perfect, rough circle around your clit.

He can’t think of a more beautiful sound than the low, frantic sob tearing from your lips.

Bucky is almost satisfied. Almost. Still, he doesn’t quite believe you. He thinks you’re going to need a little more convincing.

It’s going to take a few more rigorous sessions to make you come around. See things from his perspective. Understand that while you might be able to take him, he’ll always come out on top. That he’ll ride you over and over until you relent and let him give you what you deserve.

And he’s more than willing to do whatever it takes to get you to spend more.

Bucky places a soft kiss on your tear-streaked face, his soft lips move to your ear while his hips start moving again.

“We’re just getting started, Malyshka.”

And I—

[writer84]

ok… 1940s Bucky Barnes (who is currently in the army) meets the pinup girl he has on the wall in his bunk(aka the reader)and he immediately tries to get with her but so do all the other soldiers and he gets all sulky about it but little does he know she really likes him

(you can include smit if you want but I don’t mind; all your fics are fantastic anyway ☺️✌️)

Make Me Yours » 40s Bucky Barnes

Pairings: 40s Bucky Barnes x Pinup Girl!Reader

Summary: When bucky meets his favorite pinup girl, he tries to get with her and he notices other soldiers trying to get with her too which he doesn’t like at all, but little does he know that she likes him.

Warnings: mix of Fluff and Smut (18+), language, alcohol, flirting, little bit of jealousy, kissing, hickeys, fingering, female receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, Bucky’s dog tags, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Bucky’s jaw dropped when he seen you, his favorite pinup girl, when him and Steve walked in the bar. Steve was telling Bucky something, but Bucky wasn’t listening. All he was doing was staring at you.

“Bucky, are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Steve asks.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He just continued to stare at you. Steve followed Bucky’s gaze to you.

“Isn’t she the pinup girl on the poster you have in your bunk?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” Bucky answers. “I’m going to go talk to her. Wish me luck.” He says, walking away.

Steve sat down at a table and decided to watch. Bucky walked up to the bar counter and ordered a beer before talking to you. He couldn’t help but admire your beauty. You felt his gaze on you and looked at him.

“You know, it’s rude to stare.” You jokingly say, taking a sip of your drink.

“I’m not staring. I’m simply admiring your beauty.” He says, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You introduced yourself, holding out your hand.

“Sergeant James Barnes. Everyone calls me Bucky.” He introduces himself, shaking your hand.

“Sergeant, huh?” You say, admiring the way he looks in his Army uniform.

“Would you like to hangout with me and my friend?” He asks curiously.

“I would love that.” You say with a smile.

You two ordered more drinks before going over to the table where Steve is.

“Steve, this is Y/N.” Bucky tells him.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Steve shakes your hand. “Captain Steve Rogers.” He introduces himself.

“You’re a Captain and Bucky’s a Sergeant. It looks like the three of us are going to get along just fine.” You say, looking at Bucky.

Bucky grins as he took a sip of his beer. He pulled your chair closer to him and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You spent the whole night talking to Bucky and Steve.

“I wish I could stay longer, but I have things to do tomorrow.” You say, standing up.

“I’ll walk you home.” Bucky says, standing up.

“What a gentleman.” You complimented. “Most of the soldiers I met just want me for one thing.” You say.

“I’m not like most soldiers, doll.” He says.

You said goodbye to Steve and left the bar with Bucky. Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“What’re you doing, Sarge?” You asked.

“Just protecting you, doll face.” Bucky says, smiling down at you.

As you two were walking, you two started a conversation. Before you two knew it, you were on your doorstep.

“Thank you for walking me home, Sergeant.” You say with a smile.

“Anytime, babydoll.” Bucky says, smiling.

Before you knew it, Bucky’s lips were on yours. You were caught by surprise, but kissed him back.

“That was one hell of a kiss, Sarge.” You say, biting your bottom lip.

“That’s just a little preview for what’s to come, doll.” He says in a flirty tone.

Over the next few weeks, you and Bucky got to know each other more and gotten closer. His flirty nature and pickup lines are growing on you. Bucky is just having fun with it.

Bucky walked in the bar, smiling when he seen you. His smile slowly faded away when he seen you talking to a soldier who isn’t him at a table on the other side of the bar. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. He tried to not let it show when he walked over to you.

“Bucky!” You say with a smile.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky says, smiling as you two hugged.

Bucky sat down in the chair next to you and put his arm around your shoulder.

“Are you and Barnes a thing?” The soldier asks.

You opened your mouth to answer him, but Bucky beat you to it.

“Not yet, but we will be.” Bucky says, answering for you.

The soldier scoffed and downed the rest of his drink before standing up.

“When you’re done with him, you know where to find me.” The soldier says with a wink before leaving.

Bucky watched as the soldier walked out of the bar. He wanted nothing more than to beat his ass for talking to you.

“Are you ok, Bucky?” You asked with concern in your voice.

“I’m fine.” He says, taking a sip of his drink.

You didn’t think much of it so you didn’t press on about it. Bucky’s jealousy never left. He felt jealousy bubbling up inside of him anytime a soldier was talking to you. Later that week, you noticed Bucky’s mood was different from when you first met him. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you were going to find out one way or another.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” You say, putting a comforting hand on his arm.

Bucky sighs and took a sip of his beer before saying anything.

“I don’t like you talking to other soldiers.” He says.

You could hear the jealousy in his voice.

“I don’t want them. I want you.” You tell him.

“What?” He asks, making sure he heard you right.

“I like you, Bucky. I have for a while.” You admitted.

You leaned in and kissed his lips. He immediately kissed you back.

“How about you take me to your bunk and I’ll prove it to you.” You say seductively.

Bucky didn’t have to think twice about that. He downed the rest of his drink and put some money on the bar counter before grabbing your hand and left the bar. The second you two got to his bunk. He pinned you against the closed door, kissing you hungrily. You moaned against his lips. His hands found the bottom of your dress and pulled it over your head, dropping it on the floor. He practically moan at what you were wearing under your dress. It’s the same outfit as the one you wore in the picture on his wall. He felt his cock get hard.

“Fuck…” Bucky is speechless. “You look sexier in this in person.” He says, continuing to admire the way your body looks in it.

“You should see me without it.” You say seductively.

Bucky watched as you reached your arms behind your back to unclasp your bra and dropped it on the floor. You took your panties off and stepped out of them. Bucky’s eyes were clouded with lust. His cock became uncomfortably hard in his pants. He led you to his bed and laid you down on it. You sat up on your elbows as you watched him undress. He spread your legs and got in between them. He kissed down your body, stopping at your pussy. He looked up at you, waiting for permission which you gave him. Bucky’s tongue licked in between your wet folds, moaning at your taste. His tongue circled your clit before he latched his lips on it and started sucking on it. He began eating you out like his life depends on it.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, tilting your head back.

One of your hands found its way to his head, running your fingers through his hair before tugging on it while your other hand was clutching the sheet beneath you. His tongue moved up and down in between your folds, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His tongue went back to your clit, licking it in a flicking motion. A moan fell from your lips when Bucky unexpectedly slid one of his fingers in your pussy, moving it in and out of you at a slow pace.

“You’re so good at this!” You moaned.

You looked down, watching as Bucky ate you out. His eyes flickered up at you, making eye contact with you. He slid another finger inside of you and increased his movements. Your arms gave out and you laid on your back and laid your head on the pillow. Bucky’s free hand snaked up your body, stopping at your breasts. His thumb rubbed over your nipple before pinching it, making you gasp and send a new sensation through your body. Bucky repeated his actions on your other breast, earning the same reaction from you. You arched your back, pressing your breasts more into his hand. Bucky gave both of your breasts a squeeze. Your cunt squeezed around his fingers.

“Oh Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

Your moans were like music to Bucky’s ears. His movements got faster, helping your orgasm build up. Your lower stomach tightened, feeling your orgasm coming closer and closer.

“I’m so close!” You moaned more in a whimper.

Bucky didn’t let up on his movements with his tongue and fingers. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came. Bucky’s movements came to a slow stop and he pulled his fingers out of your pussy and sat up.

“Fuck…” Bucky moans as he licked your release off of his fingers.

He leaned down and kissed you hungrily. Your hands roamed his body. One of your hands went down to his hard cock. You wrapped your hand around it and began pumping it in your hand. You rubbed your thumb over his tip, using his precum as a lubricant. Bucky moaned against your lips. He looked down at his cock in your hand. Both of you watched as you guided his cock to your pussy, rubbing in between your folds and covering it in your slick. His hand replaced yours, lining his cock at your entrance. He slowly slid his cock inside of you, inch by inch. Your jaw dropped, moaning when you felt every vein of his cock rubbing along your walls.

“Holy shit…” You gasped. “You’re big!” You moaned, feeling his cock stretch your pussy.

Bucky spread your legs wider, looking down at where the two of you are connected, watching as his cock filled your pussy. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before thrusting. You nodded, letting him know that he can start thrusting. He pulled almost all the way out, only leaving his tip inside of you and thrusted back inside of you.

“Oh Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

Bucky leaned over you and placed his arms on either side of his head, caging you between his strong arms. You were mesmerized by his Army dog tags swinging every time he thrusted into you. You couldn’t help but grab the chain and yank on them to kiss him sloppily. You two moaned against each other’s lips. Bucky moaned his lips down to your neck, his teeth nipping on your skin hard enough for a hickey. You couldn’t help but give him a hickey too.

“You look so gorgeous right now.” Bucky says huskily.

Your hands roamed his body, reaching around to his back. You felt his muscles flexing with every thrust. Your nails dug in his skin, making him hiss at the feeling.

“You know…” He breathes. “I’ve been dreaming of this.” He admits.

“Oh yea?” You say, tilting your head back against the pillow.

Bucky took the opportunity to kiss along the column of your throat. One of his hands roamed your body, stopping on your thigh. He lifted your leg and placed it on his hip. That created a new angle for his cock to go deeper. A loud moan left your lips when his cock hit your sweet spot.

“Oh fuck yes!” You moaned. “Right there!” You tell him.

“Did I find your sweet spot, babydoll?” He asks, smirking.

“Yes!” You gasped. “Please don’t stop!” You say.

“I fucking won’t.” He practically growls.

His thrusts sped up. His other hand found its way down to your clit and began rubbing it in circles. Your pussy squeezed around his cock at the feeling.

“I’m never letting you go after this.” He says panting.

“Then don’t.” You say. “Make me yours, Sarge.” You moaned in his ear.

Bucky nearly came on the spot when you said that. It’s like a flip switched inside of him. His thrust sped up more if it’s even possible. His cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, along with his fingers rubbing your clit faster to help you build up your second orgasm.

“I’m close again!” You whimpered, digging your nails more in his back.

“Cum for me, doll face.” Bucky says huskily.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan of his name left your lips. Bucky gave your clit one last rub before chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy for a moment, but he quickly regained rhythm.

“Fuck…” He pants. “Can I cum inside of you, babydoll?” He asks.

“Yes!” You say more in a moan.

Your name left his lips as he came inside of you, painting your walls. His thrusts came to a slow stop. He pulled out and laid down next to you. He covered the two of you up with a blanket and pulled you closer to him. You laid your head on his chest while he wrapped his arm around you.

“You’re definitely coming home with me after the war.” Bucky says after a few minutes.

“I’m completely fine with that.” You say with a smile, your fingers playing with his dog tags.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[writer84]

What would be the reaction for Andy and Ari if someone smacked their girls ass? What about the trio?

So, I can tell you that something like this will be coming up in one of my series. But to answer your question, the man responsible would find himself in a world of hurt.

However, the severity of said hurt would depend on whether they witnessed the smack or if their girl relayed it to them after the fact. The difference? Whether our men are reacting on pure instinct or if they have roughly 30-90 seconds to plan out exactly how they're going to break the fool that was dumb enough to disrespect the woman they love.

[writer84]

Can you do one where reader and Loki have a really bad day and get into an arguement over the phone before they get home then someone attacks reader and she is stuck in an alleyway. Loki starts getting worried because she wasn't home for dinner so Loki goes to look for her and asks his brother and the avengers if they have seen her. He later finds her in an alley right outside unconscious? Ends in fluff?? Or something like that?

Running into Trouble

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You and Loki have recently started dating and get into a fight after you have both had a long, stressful day. You go out for a run to clear your head and end up being attacked, which is Loki's worst fear.

Warnings: arguing, very protective Loki, getting mugged / attacked (not shown), minor injuries, feeling weak, but not to worry there is a fluffy ending as requested

A/N: I love this request! I'm sorry it took me so long to get to it. Also, I think running is evil but I'm this way about going for walks after work so that's kinda where the idea came from. Thanks so much for sending this! I hope you like it! 💚

Thanks @soubi001 for the title and letting me bounce ideas for the end off you! 🙂

"Come in," Loki answers when you knock on his office door. He looks up from the papers on his desk and smiles when he sees you. "Hello darling," he says happily as he gets up to meet you.

"I missed you," you tell him, putting your arms around him.

He chuckles, "I saw you half an hour ago."

"And yet, I still miss you," you smile up at him.

One of his hands rests on your lower back and he leans down, bringing his lips to yours. Your fingers gripping the fabric of his black dress shirt, you may have seen him a few times today but this is the first time you've kissed him since you left his room this morning.

"I should have you reassigned as my case agent," Loki offers with a smirk. "Then you will be stuck with me."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you ask, raising your eyebrow.

"A bit of both I imagine," he jokes. "I need to finish up a few things and then we can get dinner," he says, letting go of you to walk back towards his desk.

"Take your time, I'm gonna go for a short run," you say, adjusting your backpack to hint that your running clothes are inside.

"I wish you wouldn't," his playful tone vanishing instantly as he faces you again.

"I'll be fine," you wave off his concern like you always do. "The park is only a few blocks from here and it's not even dark yet."

"It will be dark by the time you are finished. Why can't you use the incredibly large, state of the art gym Stark is constantly raving about? It seems to be good enough for the super soldiers," he tries harder than usual to sell you the idea of the gym.

"You know I hate running inside. Treadmills are so boring, I feel like a hamster," you try not to whine but you're tired of having this conversation.

He chuckles at your reference and shakes his head. "They do have a track," he suggests even though he knows you dislike that too.

"Loki, it's sweet that you worry about me but you don't need to. I'll make it short, just half an hour," you walk slowly towards him but he seems unconvinced. "Then a quick shower and I'll be all yours," you put your arms around his neck and look up at him.

"All mine?" he asks, his smirk returning as his hands settle on your waist, pulling you close to him.

You giggle and hold eye contact with Loki, "Yep, all yours."

He leans down to kiss you, his hands keeping your body flush to his as his lips move against yours. When you break the kiss he touches your cheek lightly and says, "I will always worry about you, love. Please be safe and enjoy your run."

You check your watch for the third time and although it's already 5:45, it seems as if this meeting will never come to an end. It's your seventh and thankfully final meeting of the day but you aren't sure how much longer you can sit here for. Another hour later, Steve finally dismisses everyone and you head straight to the locker rooms in the gym. All you can think about is going outside, listening to music and running as hard as you can to let go of the stress that has built up throughout the day.

You get changed quickly then call Loki on speaker phone while putting on your sneakers. "Hello darling," he answers, the usual excitement you hear is missing from his voice.

"Hi Loki," you reply and take him off speaker as you get up from the bench. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry it's just been a very long day," he replies.

"Same," you tell him, checking that your keys and wallet are in your bag before putting it into the locker. "Do you want to get dinner when I'm back from my run?"

"You're going for a run now?" he asks. "It's almost 7."

You turn back suddenly and open the locker again to retrieve the gift Loki gave you last week, slipping it into your hoodie's pocket as you leave the room. "I know it's late but that last meeting went way over. Steve asked if anyone had questions and Scott had a ton, most of which were completely off topic of course," you complain, rolling your eyes. "It'll be short I promise. I just need to be outside for a bit."

"Y/N, just skip it tonight," he insists, sounding more annoyed than worried. "It's already dark."

"The park has lights," you reply quickly. You walk to the elevators and zip up your thin hoodie.

"I'm tired of you fighting me on this. Just run in the gym," his tone is stern, making it sound like an order not a suggestion.

"I don't like to run inside. You know that so stop telling me to do it," you feel aggravated by the conversation and his attitude towards you. When the elevator arrives you get in and tell him, "I'll be back in an hour, you can eat without me if you don't want to wait."

"I don't care about what time we eat, I care about you listening to me," he says firmly.

"I am listening to you but you aren't listening to me," you counter, your voice raising to match his. "You don't get it. I spend all day sitting at a desk staring at a computer screen, the window in my office doesn't even open. I need to go outside. I want to feel the breeze and see the sky so I can unwind."

"You are being ridiculous," he says, you can tell he is not going to give up his side of the argument any time soon.

"Seriously, I'm the one being ridiculous?" you ask as you reach the ground floor.

"Yes. What would you prefer? That I not worry about you?" he asks.

"Ugh! No, of course not but you can't just force me to stay inside," you try not to scream as you enter the lobby. "Why are you making this so difficult tonight?"

"Fine, I will make it easy for you. You want to run, go run," he says and you stop walking, shocked by his words and harsh tone. "You repeatedly ignore my concerns and dismiss my suggestions without a moment of consideration so why should I continue to voice my thoughts to you? Do whatever you want Y/N, you always do."

Before you can respond, Loki ends the call.

You look down at your phone, gripping it tightly. Your first instinct is to call Loki back and yell at him for hanging up on you, instead you take a deep breath and set your phone to do not disturb. Putting on your headphones, you select one of your favorite playlists and hit shuffle as you step out onto the sidewalk. You feel the cool fall breeze on your face and turn south towards the park.

Jogging slowly, you gradually make the music louder and louder to drown out your racing thoughts and Loki's harsh words. Your headphones beep when you adjust them again to alert you that they have reached their maximum volume. You sigh, leaving them as is for the first time in months, typically you made sure you limited the volume so you could still hear your surroundings but you want to block everything out tonight.

You enter the park from the same entrance as always and when your feet hit the loose gravel you pick up speed. The route you take through the park varies daily, picking random turns and directions based on how crowded it is or which path seems to call to you at the moment. You force away the meetings that filled your day, the piles of paperwork waiting for you in the morning and your fight with Loki. Your mind drifts, focusing on the music blasting through your headphones, the ground under your feet and how hard you are breathing in the brisk air.

Unfortunately, what you are not focused on is the three men who have been following you since your last turn.

Loki gets up from his couch and paces back and forth with his phone in his hand. You have only been gone for ten minutes but he knew the second he hung up that he had made a terrible mistake. He sighs, running his fingers through his hair then he texts you.

<I'm so sorry I spoke to you like that and I never should have hung up on you. I did not mean to start a fight. Can we talk when you get back? Please be safe.>

He hits send and stares at the screen waiting for you to reply. He knows your headphones can read you text messages and you always responded back using the voice to text function. It never failed to make him laugh, the texts you replied with were usually just a bit off since your phone could never quite understand you while you were running.

Another ten minutes pass without a reply from you so he tries again.

<Y/N, I understand you are upset with me and you should be. I am sorry for how I behaved and I will apologize again and again when you get back but please respond to me. I just want to make sure you are okay.>

There was another reason he grew to like the voice to text function, you always responded immediately. You know how much he worries about you, so being able to quickly tell him where you were or when you were coming back put him at ease.

He sits heavily on his couch and after only two minutes pass, he stands up and calls you. Pacing again, he listens to it ring once then go directly to voicemail. His stomach drops instantly, you had either declined his call the second it rang or your phone was off.

He shakes his head, knowing your phone would never be off, you always listened to music when you ran. He calls you a second time but again it goes straight to voicemail. He doesn't bother to leave you a message, instead he leaves his room and heads down the hall as he tries for a third time to reach you.

"Thor, I need your help," Loki says with a touch of panic in his voice when he reaches the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" Thor asks, turning from his snack on the island.

"Y/N went for a run and she's not answering me," he tells his brother.

"Did you do something stupid?" Tony jokes as he closes the fridge.

"Yes, but that is not the point," Loki snaps, turning towards him. Tony's smile fades when he sees how serious Loki is. "She always answers, always. Something is wrong, I know it."

"Alright, just calm down," Tony says, trying to hide his growing concern. "She's probably just mad at you for whatever it is you did. Let me call her." Loki nods, hoping Tony is right but after only a few seconds, he looks at his phone and shakes his head. "She didn't answer," he confirms Loki's fear.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he wakes up the computer system in the Tower, "Get me a location for Y/N's phone now."

"Searching," it responds, Loki holds his breath nervously as it works. A moment later it answers, "The last known location for Y/N's phone is from 10 minutes ago. I cannot find a current location. The device has been switched off."

"No, she wouldn't do that," Loki insists, looking at his brother. "We need to find her."

"We will," Thor assures him, resting a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., get the team down here. We have an emergency," Tony tells the computer system. "Bring up a map of the park and Y/N's last known location. Overlay that with the route she takes when she runs." A large holographic map of the park appears in the air in front of Tony as he talks to the program.

"She takes a different route each time," Loki interrupts Tony and he nods.

"Ok, use the data from her phone's history to show the last three weeks on the map," he corrects himself. "Maybe we can see a pattern in where she runs, it would help us find her quicker than searching the whole damn park."

The team enters the park from the same entrance you use every day and then they quickly make their way towards your last known location. Thor and Loki turn south while Steve and Tony head north, calling your name as they move down each path. Clint, Scott and Natasha take the trail that leads east. SHIELD agents spilt off to show your picture to people in the park in the hopes that someone saw you.

"Loki, look," Thor stops suddenly and points to a thin trail of blood droplets.

"Y/N!" Loki calls again as they both pick up their pace, following the blood trail deeper into the park. The blood drops continue across the gravel and Loki's heart begins to pound wildly in his chest as they approach one of the stone tunnels. Just before the entrance to the underground pathway is a small pool of blood and Loki nearly trips at the sight of it under one of the street lights.

The two brothers slow their pace cautiously and Loki calls for you once more as they enter the tunnel. "Gods, she's here!" Loki tells Thor who immediately radios everyone your location and tells them they need to send the medical team.

Loki kneels next to your unconscious body, terrified that the blood they had followed is yours. He checks you carefully for injuries but you don't appear to be bleeding.

He breaths a small sigh of relief when you blink your eyes open and mumble, "Loki."

"I'm here," he whispers to you, your eyes briefly focus on him. "You're safe now, we're going to take you home." You try to nod but slowly slip back into unconsciousness. His hand moves to hold yours and he sees the small dagger he had given you still clutched tightly in your hand. The tip is covered in blood, but not yours and Loki is thankful for that.

You open your eyes slowly, unsure of where you are for a moment, the room seems so bright. You blink a few times until the room comes into focus, you realize your in the infirmary back at the Tower. Someone squeezes your hand gently and turn your head to see Loki sitting on a chair next to the bed.

"Hello darling," he says quietly. He smiles but you can see his eyes are full of worry. "How are you feeling?" You try to sit up and he puts his hand carefully on your shoulder to help. "Slowly," he tells you and you nod which causes the room to spin momentarily. "You don't have a concussion but Strange said you may be dizzy still from being knocked unconscious," he tells you when you close your eyes.

"What happened?" you open your eyes and ask instead of answering his initial question. Your memory of the night is filled with holes, fuzzy images and disconnected voices. The last thing you remember clearly was Loki hanging up on you in anger.

You watch nervously as his jaw tightens before he answers, "You were attacked in the park." You look away from him, feeling a wave of mixed emotions hit you at once. "There were three of them, we think. They stole your phone. J.A.R.V.I.S. is still sifting through the security footage from around the park, there were no cameras in the section where I found you," he says.

You don't respond to the knowledge that you had been attacked in the one place you felt most relaxed in the city. Slowly, you pull your hand free from Loki's as your thoughts begin to race. He had been right, you realize.

"Y/N, look at me, please," he says, trying to get your attention.

"Why?" you ask, looking up, your memory of his last words to you blend with your own negative thoughts. "So you can tell me that I should have listened to you? Fine, you were right. I'm just some weak human and I can't protect myself. Are you happy now?"

He touches your arm and you fight the urge to pull away again. "Y/N, how could you possibly think this would make me happy? I never wished for you to be hurt. This isn't a game and it is not some sort of win for me," he tells you and you can hear the hurt in his voice.

"You did win though, cause now I'll never run there again. I'll use the stupid gym like you always tell me to," you inform him, crossing your arms against your chest. You uncross them and look at your hands for the first time since you woke up, seeing a few small bruises forming along your knuckles. You raise your hand to lightly touch where your cheek is the most painful and Loki stops you, taking your hand carefully in his.

"You have quite a substantial bruise there, it will take a few weeks to heal," he tells you. "You didn't need any stitches though," he adds. "Your ribs and back have bruises as well, so it may hurt to sit up or lay down for the time being. Thankfully you don't have any severe injuries, Strange assured me that you only need rest and you will feel better in a few days."

While he describes your injuries, you let him continue to hold your hand but you avoid his eyes. "That's good," you mumble in response.

"You will be running again in no time," he says encouragingly.

"Loki, just stop it. I'm tired. Please, just say you told me so and get it over with so I can rest," you tell him.

He sighs, "No." You slowly lift your head then he continues, "I cannot describe the sheer panic I felt when I couldn't reach you. My worst fear is that something might happen to you while you are away from me and then it did and..." his voice trails off and he takes a deep breath.

"I was not right about anything," he tells you.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"We both know you will be unhappy running inside," he says and you nod in agreement.

"I didn't realize how much running through the park means to you, especially after such a long day. I know you need it to unwind and calm you, I shouldn't have kept trying to change that part of you. The last thing I want is for you to give up something you love because of me," he tells you. "Or because of those pathetic mortals who hurt you."

"At least I would be safe running in the gym," you feel like giving up.

"So what am I supposed to do?" you ask him.

Loki is quiet for a few moments then he smiles and offers, "How about I run with you?"

"You hate running," you laugh and it makes your side ache.

"I do," he quickly agrees, "But I like you."

You pretend to be surprised, "You like me?"

"Very, very much," he clarifies and kisses your forehead.

"I appreciate the offer but it will be no fun if you're miserable," you say, squeezing his hand. "And stop making me laugh, it hurts."

You laugh again, holding your side in pain and smack his arm lightly. "Are you kidding? Do you know how fast they jog? At a full sprint I wouldn't be able to keep up."

"Sorry," he kisses the back of your hand. "How about you take a super soldier with you? They seem to enjoy it."

"You already gave me one of these," you remind him.

"Fair point," he says then he is quiet again and you can almost see his mind working to come up with a solution. "How about this?" He holds out his hand and a small dagger with a black leather handle appears in a flash of green light.

"Yes and from what we can tell so far, you used it exceptionally well," he praises you, making you blush.

"I think I did okay for having no idea what I was doing," you respond.

"Which is why I want to train you on how to use it properly. And I need you to promise that you will always answer me when you are running."

"I can do that," you smile and he smiles in return. "Now I need you to do one thing for me."

"Anything, darling," he promises.

"Can you hold me?" you ask. "I really am very tired."

"Of course," he answers. He carefully climbs onto the bed next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes. "I'm so glad you are okay," he says then he waves his hand to turn off the brightest of the over head lights. He pulls the sheet up to cover you better and you snuggle against him as best you can without hurting your side.

You listen to Loki's slow, steady breathing and feel yourself drifting off quickly. His fingers run slowly through your hair and for the first time in your relationship, he whispers, "I love you."

You smile against his shoulder and whisper back, "I love you, too."

The next afternoon Loki leaves the Tower and begins the twenty minute walk south, following the directions he received from J.A.R.V.I.S. He enters the apartment building and climbs the five flights with his fists clenched. Checking the address again, he turns left down the hall, looking around at the peeling paint and worn carpet. He pauses in front of the door at the end of the hall, listening to the raised voices inside.

"Here's your cut," a man with deep voice says. "I know it's not much but that's all I could get for the phone."

"This is bullshit," someone else responds. "All those tourists and we jump the only person who didn't even have a wallet."

A third voice complains, "I still think I should get more than you two idiots. That bitch stabbed me and I'm only gonna get fifty freaking bucks."

Loki's dark green dress shirt and black pants are replaced by his leather armor and gold horned crown in a cloud of green smoke. The man tries to slam the door shut but Loki catches it easily with one hand. Your attacker backs into the apartment and Loki follows slowly.

A smile slowly spreads across Loki's lips, knowing that he is in the right place. He knocks on the door and waits. A tall, thin man opens it, his attention focused on the other men inside still talking. "Shut up," the one at the door says then he turns to Loki and he goes still in an instant.

Once inside, he slams the door shut with a wave of his hand as the other two men get up. "What the fu-" one of them starts to ask but Loki shakes his head and silences him.

"You three hurt someone I care for very deeply, and that simply won't do," he says. The green glow from his magic seeps out from under the door and out into the hallway.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[writer84]

Your Dog, His Tricks

a Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader tale set a little over a year after losing their virginity together and based on this ask.

Summary: Injured on a mission and MIA for days, you return to a very high-strung boyfriend who can't express what he's feeling until it boils to the surface.

Warnings: arguments and smut. MINORS DNI. WC 5.4k

You don’t know when it started, this sort of competition with your boyfriend, but at some point you and Steve became a packaged deal. Unfortunately, that package was labeled: Steve Rogers and his girl. You feel nameless sometimes, and you know you are better than that; maybe you aren’t super like he is, but you are (and were since before dating) a whole-ass Avenger in your own right. You are a stellar agent. You can bring home the top prize. You can finish this shit-show of a mission all on your own.

No help.

None.

You noticed a problem after months and months of fighting with Steve—no, that sounds wrong—beside Steve. 

Okay, maybe it’s not wrong-wrong to say fighting with him because you two do have the occasional argument. Just one argument, really. One argument over and over again about you fighting beside him, why it’s fine, why he should let it go. You are as safe fighting beside him now as you were before the two of you became this set, this lop-sided partnership. He still wants to protect you from shit you are trained to protect yourself from, shit you survived just fine without him, shit like the last three days.

He’s stubborn, and so are you.

You’ve had trouble getting him to back off. The Team is a team, and Steve does great, delegating all sorts of jobs when you are one among many. As soon as it’s you and him alone? He’s…overly helpful, over-protective, and generally over-the-top fussy. He is adoring and caring and competent. Apparently, those things make him feel capable of doing everything for you. It’s sweet until it’s not. Every time you start a project—laundry, cooking, organizing shelves, or leading an actual mission—Steve waltzes in and has to finish it for you.

Because he loves you. Because he’s trying to help. Because he can.

It makes you feel as if you can’t, or, at least, as if he thinks you can’t.

“Well, buddy, you can’t have this one,” you mutter outside of HQ’s gate, gripping your side and flicking open the phone you stole a few states back.

You’ve been gone for just shy of seventy-three hours.

At first, you truly had no way to contact the Team. You were on your own a thousand miles from home, fried comms and a spent weapon. You missed the rendezvous at the safehouse because it took twenty or so hours to find a vet office with the supplies to patch yourself up, and by the time you could have reached out, that ear worm wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’ll swoop in.

He’ll save you.

You’re his girl, so you need him. You can’t handle this without him. No one will believe you did once he gets anywhere near you.

Call it adrenaline. Call it blood loss. Call it shock. You can’t give up this glory, so you told yourself you needed radio silence to keep the recovered intel secure until back on Avengers campus. You told yourself the risk of interception was too high to chance a phone call.

Now, fifty feet from the infirmary, you need to get past one more obstacle.

You know Steve would jump from a third-story window to get to you, know he would scoop you right up into his arms and carry you over the threshold, know that would mean Steve wins.

No. Not this time. This is yours. You deserve the credit. You are crossing that finish line solo.

You jab the last of the epi-pens into your good leg, letting yet more adrenaline heave through what little of your blood volume is left and call the HQ secure line from the burner.

“Friday,” you start, standing at the bus stop, a blindspot from the Avengers’ surveillance cameras because the city already monitors it, “authorization Gamma-Lima-Four-Whisky. Do not declare connection. I repeat, do not declare this connection.”

The AI welcomes you back onto the grid politely.

“Thank you.” A bubble of pain bursts in your throat. “Give them a different location for this call, ok? Tell them it’s from the nearest functional payphone.”

Friday does as you say because why wouldn’t she? It’s not as if Steve is going to pause to question where the ping is—

—and he’s already out, on the bike, pushing that engine to its acceleration limit and narrowly escaping a shoulder check from the slowly opening gates.

You sneak right past, knowing he won’t look in his rearview, not with his eye on a prize ten blocks away, and you collapse just inside the garage ramp.

You wake prone in the Regeneration Cradle after surgery to a kind, smiling nurse monitoring your progress.

It’s difficult to focus. After a few blinks, you can see her features clearly, then beyond her are just eyes.

His eyes.

Piercing blue doesn’t begin to describe the intensity of Steve’s gaze, and his silence is deafening.

Each quarter-minute he inventories the room, and he exhales. That is the sum total of what he can manage to do right now. He’s attempting to keep it together until you two are alone obviously. Steve fails at very few things in life; this is one of them. You can see the outline of his teeth through his tight cheek.

“Doc wanted me to tell you you did a great job,” the nurse states softly. “If you hadn’t packed those wounds so tight, you’d have died for sure.”

Your mouth is too dry to respond, so you flash a wry smile. No one gets the Cradle without…extensive injuries. You’ve never had the ‘pleasure,’ not even for your through-and-through last year.

Steve huffs in frustration, keeping his huge body out of the nurse’s way even when you can feel him try to astral project himself forward to hand you ice chips. Instead, you swallow cotton.

“Captain Rogers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimes from above, “your motorcycle has been cited for running five red lights with a further two dozen traffic violations. Shall I claim Official Avengers’ business?”

You croak ‘no.’ He says ‘yes.’

There’s a pause. “I will ask again later.”

Who says AIs can’t throw some serious shade?

Silence descends again as the spindling print needle moves on to a different wound. You’re lucid but wobbly trying to think, a combination of the waning anesthesia and pain meds.

If frowns could kill, your boyfriend’s would devastate the entire med bay.

This is what you hoped beyond hope to avoid, but it’s also why your endgame involved going solo.

“You’re making my point for me,” you sigh, your chest hurting more after surgery than it has in the past twenty-four hours. Clearly, your nerves are back online.

“And what point was that?“ he asks sarcastically, waiting in your own stubborn silence. “You gave me a heart attack.”

“Really?” You’re playfully shocked.

“No, not really! God.” He rushes closer. “What the hell were you thinking? If you had time to send me on a wild goose chase, you could damn well have called to tell me you were alive!”

The cradle’s lights shut off, job complete.

“Language, Steve.” 

He looks incredulous, engrossingly livid, anxious outrage contained by his one frayed thread of control left. 

“We found the intel,” he grits through a clenched jaw. “After power-washing your blood off it, everything was on the drive.”

You can’t sit up on your elbows yet, so you bite back, “good. It all worked out fine then.”

Wafting off him in thick clouds, Steve’s anger is near-flammable in the small room.

The nurse offers to step out for a second.

You say ‘yes.’ Steve barks ‘no.’

This isn’t the nurse’s first rodeo. “Alright, surgery went well. All debris and fragments removed. Your tissue is all intact now, too, but remember, this treatment doesn’t train new muscle fiber or nerve-endings.” She ignores Steve and pushes past to the other end of the table. “Rest up. Tomorrow, you can report to PT. They’ll work with you until you’re field-approved again.”

“She is not—“

“Both of you are ordered to rest,” the nurse snaps, nodding in Steve’s direction “—and make yourself useful by changing her drip when it runs out. If you can’t manage that, Captain, I will find a separate apartment or keep her here overnight.”

“No,” Steve breathes, visibly deflating. Like a scolded puppy, your boyfriend tucks his chin down, rings of grey settling beneath his dark sea eyes. It’s plain as day he hasn’t slept either.

The nurse calls for a wheelchair, and Steve dutifully helps you scoot off the table when it arrives. While he positions the IV to move in tandem, you attempt to push yourself by the huge rubber wheels and fail. Doc was not kidding about muscle weakness.

Steve says nothing.

You’re rolled back to your shared room by the grumpiest Captain America. 

He helps you dress in baggy, comfy clothes and silently reattaches the line of your drip. Not one touch is in a sexual, sensual, or even intimate way even though you are naked at some point.

You can’t remember what you expected; you’ve been so focused on completing the mission for so long. Did you want a desperate homecoming? Did you want him to grovel or worship at your feet? You think, at some point, you knew he’d push back, but you thought…maybe…he’d want you more.

Steve seems to turn his interest on and off so easily, which is great professionally but hard to read personally…or maybe you’re just struggling under the distracting hum of medication. It’s a white noise you can’t ignore, lulling you unconscious, so you can’t analyze the situation anymore. Maybe, you think, you try…but the thoughts don’t come.

He situates you on his side of the bed—to accommodate the cord and stand—and tucks himself quietly into the smallest corner of mattress that his bulk can fit on.

He falls asleep holding your hand. It’s the only place you two are connected. After nearly eighty-five hours apart, that’s still worth it. Maybe.

At some point, his hand goes limp and falls away.

Finally clear of mind, you keep watching Steve the next day. He doesn’t necessarily seem angry, and he doesn’t necessarily seem relieved either. He’s so robotic in his interactions. He won’t talk to you just at you. 

You understand why he was so standoffish last night, but you thought Steve would surely want you after that. You thought he’d start touching you again. 

You two waited so long for your first time, but after that, sex was relatively easy. Steve is an affectionate man when he’s allowed, when he’s in love, and you know he loves you.

Like the nurse said: all your tissue is fully healed. The only restrictions you have are in regards to field work, and the phantom jolts of pain—when you reach into a cabinet or take down a clothes hanger—aren’t real. 

Steve’s always an arm’s length away, just in case, meaning he is there to help you.

Always an arm’s length away.

No closer. No farther.

That afternoon you attempt to start talking about your mission, but that’s when he moves.

Steve practically sprints out the door with a half-baked excuse, so you go to physical therapy alone. You can go alone. That’s not the problem.

If you thought talking to Steve was difficult, you weren’t ready for how hard touching Steve would be.

You try to initiate even a cuddle that second night, and he jumps up claiming to have forgotten something somewhere else that he promised someone. Your boyfriend can’t lie worth beans. You don’t know why he tries.

You’re asleep before he returns.

The next night is exactly the opposite. You spend longer at the gym, slowly and painstakingly repeating every single exercise you know in order to streamline these new muscles. It’s an unholy pain in the ass, but you do it because you can—and will—get back in the field.

Even though the workout was mild, you’re awash with that runner’s high when you return to find Steve passed out already. He looks so peaceful, brow relaxed and lips gently parted. He also looks, well, good enough to eat, but you’ll start slow.

There was one time early on, before you two went all the way, that you woke him up by grinding on him in your sleep. You think now, perhaps, you can recreate that, catch him off-guard and dissipate some of this tension between you. This would be a good release. You don’t normally go this long. Obviously, Steve wouldn’t have masturbated while you were MIA and possibly dead, and every other second since has been accounted for.

He practically can’t have sex anywhere else except naked in a bed. He’s even told you, point blank, that he feels no need to touch himself since he has you. You are what he wants. That’s what he said.

Except he doesn’t wake up to your advances. He just rolls over like you’re disturbing him and softly snores.

For the first time, you wonder if you’ve really broken the two of you. How long will he be mad at you for doing your job? 

Steve rolls back over in his sleep, holding you close like nothing’s happened. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, but it’s enough and so, so wonderful to imagine all is well.

About a week into your ‘recovery’ (which is sorta bullshit since you can do everything the same by now just with an occasional, faint twinge, no more than the strain of every workout, ever), Steve takes Sam Wilson up on his offer of 1-on-1 basketball for a while. The Team—minus you—has a raid planned in the morning, and there’s always nervous energy to burn off in anticipation.

Your boyfriend has been a nightmare grump, but no one wants to take on the hassle of convincing Steve that he’s being too Steve to Steve properly. He still won’t talk to you about anything other than the weather, food, or daily schedules.

You’re even considering taking a break from field work because this all has become too much. If Steve is gonna shut down after every dangerous mission—which is, in fact, all of them—then maybe it’s not worth the risk. You’re good, you’re great, but you aren’t super.

“Taste of his own medicine, I say,” Bucky mutters, sitting beside you on the bleachers between courts.

“Huh?” You were distracted, watching Steve and Sam squeak across the floor.

Steve sinks a perfect layup and doesn’t gloat. Do-gooder.

“He used to get so mad when I’d find him in an alley all beaten up,” Buck continues. “Thought I was being too protective. I trusted him, but he was puny and he did get sick all the time. He could take a punch, sure, but every mark took weeks to heal. Half the time, they were still yellow when some idiot landed fresh ones.”

Steve claps beneath the net, encouraging Sam, focused on not outshining anyone.

He’s been the same with everyone else but you, and the whole Team can see it. You shouldn’t be surprised someone is finally talking about it; you simply wonder how Buck drew the short straw.

“Didn’t wanna be babied,” Bucky snorts, fondly glowering at his century-long bestie, “while low and behold, he pulls that stunt with everybody, every day.” 

“Yup,” you pop, looking at the matte metal beneath your feet, knowing there’s a line between the ‘caring’ version and the ‘coddling’ version. Steve nose-dived right over that line this time.

“What he appreciated, though, was consistency.” Bucky swivels his hair around into a bun and ties it. “Punk is dedicated, and even if it was just him--the hund’ed pound soaking-wet guy whose only real talent at that point was getting back on his feet--he knew he’d fight anyway.

“Bit hypocritical to be mad at his girl for doing the same, don’t ya think?” Bucky muses, clucking his tongue.

The brunette watches you bristle slightly at the moniker. His girl. Not only is it what got you into this mess, it feels untrue based on that big, broad, cold shoulder you’ve received from the man racing back and forth in front of you.

Smiling, Bucky nudges you with his elbow. “I’m excited for you to get back on your feet,” he adds.

You’re stuck thinking about that long after Bucky jumps into the game.

It’s no surprise then that when the doctor gives you the all-clear the very next morning, you’re over the moon and ready to strike. You don’t hesitate for a second when the alarm sounds less than an hour later.

The Team needs reinforcements. Your Team needs you.

You hustle into the back of a quinjet with a dozen agents. While the others file out to where the main conflict is raging, you sneak around the perimeter to suss out the mission goal, a treasure trove of enemy tech hidden somewhere in what was thought to be an abandoned village.

Not so abandoned if it’s lighting up like the pyrotechnics show on an action film set...

The explosions rattle the ground, yet you know the Team have breached the main chamber. Those enemy forces still fighting are distracting from a retreat. The other agents can catch them just fine. Your mission is intel recovery.

To keep your approach stealthy, you don’t announce your movements over comms, and Nat doesn’t scan back down the dark hallway you wedge into as she carries out an asset. If you weren’t so far back, you never would have seen him.

An enemy agent slinks out from behind a floor-to-ceiling tapestry right in front of you. His silhouette is short and thin; he’s built for stealth, too.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears as you follow, and that bastard gets close—so close—to Steve’s turned back that the pistol’s muzzle nearly touches.

Not this time. Not a chance. None.

You land a roundhouse kick to the exposed neck above his kevlar, and that sucker goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Steve turns around at the ready, stunned silent in the middle of his instructions to Bucky who is not visible from the other side heaped boxes. The papers still smoke where evidence was burned.

You salute at big, blue eyes. 

“On your six, Cap.” 

Steve looks at you, looks down at the man, and looks back up at you…pissed. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

What the fuck indeed…

All you did was help your team. All you did was stop Captain America from getting his head blown off. In no small fashion, all you did was save your boyfriend’s life.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

His grip on your arm is painful as he leads you all the way back to the jet himself, shoving you into the jump seat between other returned agents and shouting for you to 'stay right there.'

Bucky announces over comms that the rest is clean up. All but the specialized document interpretation and perimeter teams are moving out. 

Steve huffs, contemplates staying on a battlefield instead of going back with you, but decides to sit across the ship in silence again, fuming, making fists over and over in his fingerless leather gloves, bitterly sniffing as loud as possible the entire flight home. He refuses to answer a single person until the jet touches down at HQ. 

“Everyone off,” he bellows, “everyone except you.” 

You can’t stop it. Your hands fly up in exaggerated annoyance automatically.

“What do you want, Steve? I got the go-ahead this morning. I’m allowed to be here.”

“Stop doing that.” He rounds on you.

“Doing what? My job?!”

Chest puffed out, feathers ruffled, cheeks hot and red, Steve peels off his cowl. “Being insubordinate.”

“You’re not my superior officer,” you hiss, “we are equals, and if you think for one second I did anything wrong out there, go ahead and report me. From where I’m standing, I did the work, got cleared for duty, helped out the team, and stopped you from being shot.”

You poke a finger to his chest for each achievement listed.

“Fine," Steve shouts, crossing his arms, "but quit acting like a selfish coward.”

Them be fightin’ words. “A what?”

“You heard me,” he all but whispers.

It’s laughable, truly laughable how bad Steve is at hiding some of those wheels from turning in his head. This isn’t about today. This is the thing he buried the past week.

You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna throw a hissy fit every time I get a scratch—“

“THREE BULLETS IS NOT A SCRATCH.” He tries—he visibly, painfully tries—to keep his cool one last time. “You weren’t ready,” he concludes, judge, jury, and executioner all poured into one star-spangled package.

“Say’s who?” You’re stepping closer, getting in his face because this is bullshit and unfair. “Last time I checked you’re not a doctor, and you should be thanking me for saving your ass—“

“It’s not your job to save me.”

“We have the same job, Steve! We are both perfectly capable of—“

“I know that,” he barks, hot breath mingling with yours.

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to think I can handle myself.” You push weakly at his chest, taunting, like it's a game. “Maybe you need to walk it off, buddy.”

His face cracks, an avalanche unmoored from a stable mountain.

Oh shit. You’ve done it now.

“Walk it off?! WALK IT OFF?!”

Steve charges like a bull seeing red, crowding you against the far wall, his own derisive finger pointed at your heart.

“You were injured. You didn’t make contact. You went dark for days, and you could have died. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find you. No—“ he cups your chin in a tight pinch “—you want to talk about the job? It’s protocol to check in. It’s common courtesy to let me know you’re alive, and it’s goddamn rude to ignore your own safety.”

A dark, hazy sheen layers over his sharp gaze. “Don’t make me keep you home.”

There’s a deep line of frustration carved between his brows. His nostrils flair as he waits, daring you to refute him.

“Well—” you purse your lips in defiance “—isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

Steve lets go of you, smacked away by your cutting tone.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, whatever, Rogers,” you dismiss. “We both know you don’t have the authority to bench me.”

“Like hell I don’t,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and throwing your arms above your head, He weaves your hands through the cargo net behind you. The loops are tight and complicated in seconds, he’s so fast.

You can’t wriggle away.

“Let’s see how you like it.”

Steve roughly throws the zipper of your uniform down, letting the jacket hang open to show nothing but your sports bra.

“Feeling paralyzed—“ he dexterously undoes your belt “—exposed—“ your pants and underwear are yanked down to your ankles “—and afraid.” His last word thickens the air on the jet. 

How can this man launch you into unbridled lust in the space of two syllables?

Who. Fucking. Cares. How.

Steve’s fingertips teasingly glide over the swell of your breasts, brush down your belly, and tick their way in a casual walk between your legs. He retracts his touch the instant you let out a longing sigh, unable to restrain how needy you are. His fingers wander to perfectly clean and unmarked flesh…on your thigh, along one side, and a few inches below that. He’s tracing the bullet wounds he watched heal so quickly.

“Maybe I should leave you wondering how it’ll all play out?” he says absently, lost in thought, his thumb shifting to notch into the dip of your hip. “Maybe I should leave you wondering if we’ll ever—”

“Yes,” you whimper, no real idea what you’re saying. That’s not what answer you meant.

“How would you like three whole days of this feeling, huh? You think you’d fare any better than I did? Think you’d make it even five minutes?”

“Uh-uh.” Again, with no clue what you’re truly responding to, you buck your hips forward onto his long fingers.

The cords around your wrists get tighter while you struggle to set a pace. Behind you, the metal rings of the netting hit the hull with a soft clinking noise. 

“Not so fast.” Steve pulls his hand away just far enough to remove all friction. “Because three days, sweetheart, it was torture. Felt like an eternity right on the edge.”

“Please,” you beg.

One deliberate swipe of his fingers through your slick is enough to make you mewl.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Steve. Please, I need you.”

“Need me? You have an odd way of showing it, doll. You have to promise me—“ he thrusts his fingers in “—promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you,” you cry, convinced that it’s true for the sole reason: you never want to experience anything other than this Steve for as long as you live.

“You are so brave, and so…capable, and I know you can do anything, but you…can’t survive anything.” He takes excruciating pleasure in slow thrusts and teasing circles. “Promise me you won’t be so reckless. Promise, say it.”

“I promise.” Your weight sags into his ministrations, called to focus on nothing but where his hand disappears between you. “I promise I won’t be reckless.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your head falls limp against your tied arms. It sounds so good from his lips. Why did you ever doubt?

“I promise I’ll come back to you,” you manage out like a prayer.

“Yeah? That’s it. Is that what you want?”

“I promise. I promise, Steve.” You time your movements sloppily with his measured tempo. “Please, I need more.”

“I know. I know.” He’s strung out, too, listening to your pathetic whimpers after less than five minutes, exactly like he predicted.

You’re so over-wrought with desperation you can’t coordinate with his manhandling your legs apart—your knees, really, since your ankles are still caught in your pants. Instead of taking off your boots, Steve simply unzips himself and dives right into your wet, warm, and welcoming pussy.

Knowing he has a thing against anything naughty in his suits makes it sexier. You want his intensity—you’ve always been curious—and finally you have it: unhinged, untethered, super Steve Rogers. Your body makes room out of sheer joy.

“I know,” Steve coos, his face pressed to your chest as he adjusts. “Fuck, I know, honey.”

“Move, Steve.”

“No,” he says with a gentle kiss to your sternum. “You wanna come? Go ahead. You can do it all on your own. You can do anything you want, can’t ya?”

You groan in frustration.

You wanted this, an annoying voice in the muddled depths of your mind calls. You’re independent.

With a sob of both excitement and fury, your thighs weld onto that sturdy, I-beam beast. You brace your bent arms over your angled and hovering body, leveraging the cargo straps to hoist you up and down.

Your muscles burn, strained more than they were on your lone journey back to HQ.

Steve grunts and moans, the ghost of his wide spread palms beneath your back as a safety net.

“That’s it. That’s it, good girl.” 

Amidst your own noises, you can barely hear him. You’re not building to a climax, you’re falling into one at terminal velocity, flailing. Struggling to hang on and let go all at once, you do come, but it’s more of a plateau than a full release.

Steve’s unhappy and takes your ass in a bruising grip, finally pumping his thick length in and out, dragging the head of his cock across that perfect spot over and over.

“You can do better than that,” he snarls, hair wrecked and falling in his face.

Wave, undertow, and wave again, pleasures simply blend into the next. He gets handsy, keyed up and out of control, muttering “don’t you ever fucking leave me.”

You’d scold him for cursing if the air weren’t being punched from your lungs.

“Come on, sweetheart. Three for three.”

You’re almost disappointed he only wants you to come three times in payment for his days of torture. Even as a tear escapes the corner of your eye and your throat breaks in a hoarse “please,” you know you would give him more. You'd give him anything.

When you finally reach that shattering end, Steve is almost incoherently feral, one hand clamped at the back of your neck, the other anchored to the small of your back, slamming your ass to his leather-covered thighs like you are his mission.

“I promise,” you try to repeat, but you aren’t sure they sound like words.

Whether in response to you or as an errant thought, Steve’s own broken voice rattles at your sweaty neck. “You can take it,” he whispers gruffly. “You can take it.”

You’re floating by the time he comes, his hips stilling slowly. The buzz of your body now outdoes anything anesthesia or pain meds concocted.

Steve peppers your skin with lazy, light kisses until you remind him of your bound wrists, but then he’s overly apologetic and scrambling to free them.

He keeps himself inside you and maneuvers to sit with you on his lap.

You stay there for a while, your numb and sore arms folded between your chests. Steve only stops petting your shoulders to cradle your face, soft blue eyes roaming, adoring. He whispers concern that you’re okay, how are your legs, are you warm enough, you feeling good?

Yes, you think, you’ve taken care of your girl.

“I love seeing you like this,” he mumbles long after the pins and needles have abandoned their assault on your tired legs.

You tuck some silky hair behind his ear. “Like what? Fucked out?”

He’s floating too because he doesn’t chastise.

“Happy, healthy—“ he lets out a deep sigh “—home.”

“Speaking of home,” you say, inching ever so slightly higher to let him slide out of you, “wanna cuddle in bed all night and not get up until someone tries to break in the door?”

That knocks some of the glow off him. He drags a hand down his face. “Oh god, the poor people who have to clean this thing…”

“Let’s be honest,” you snort. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s been on you, but if it’s that big of a deal, we could go hose you down before handing our equipment in.”

He smiles, shaking his head in dismissal.

With his help, you climb off his lap and slowly shimmy up your bottoms, realizing he did truly make a mess of you both.

Steve looks down at his own lap, horrified. “Do I need to burn this?”

“That sounds like a challenge to make you filthier,” you consider, but maybe you should change into your civies before exiting the jet…

“Ya know,” Steve muses, passing over to the small locker of clothing overhead and grabbing a t-shirt and sweats, “I almost got shot in the head today, and you had three bullets fished outta you a week ago. I’m thinking we’ve earned a vacation.”

Workaholic Steve? Actively applying for time off? You’ll be damned.

“My my my, Captain Rogers…the real dirty talk begins.”

He huffs out a laugh and blushes.

“Well, I know we didn’t do anything more special than dinner for our anniversary, so…” He pulls you to his chest again, smelling of slightly musty laundry and pungent sex. “Let’s go on a fucking vacation.”

Your neck cranes to his height to see a soft smile. Oof, he’s good.

 “I missed you,” he adds like a prayer, “and you’re the badass who saved me.”

He giggles at your scrunched nose and watches you bask in that glory.

“Like I said, you’re welcome—“ you hug Steve, letting his warmth radiate through you, moving in time with his rising and falling chest “—and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses the crown of your head.

When you open the bombay doors, there’s a thermos left at the base of the ramp, a folded paper tucked beneath it. 

We should talk about how to better soundproof the jets. Brought you some refreshments. It’s hazelnut. ~Bucky

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jamneuromain @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @brandycranby

A/N: I sincerely give up on editing this anymore, so I hope it turned out okay 🙇🏻‍♀️

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[writer84]

Quickie

Summary: You get caught up in the moment while dropping off dinner to your favorite bounty hunter.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Pure Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Unprotected Sex,Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Semi-public Sex, Manhandling, Ass Grabbing, Ass Slapping, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

When you stopped by the precinct this evening, all you’d intended to do was drop off a home cooked meal to a certain bounty hunter. You had no idea what was in store for you the moment you’d walked back to the tiny corner office they'd set aside for him rocking the pink floral babydoll dress and jean jacket you’d dug out from the back of your closet.

If you had, then maybe you would’ve at least had the thought to stretch. Also, you probably would’ve worn different shoes. Perhaps you would’ve gone with a pair of flats instead of wedge heels.

And lastly, in favor of decorum, you would’ve left your man’s food up at the front with Deputy Milton where you, and it, were safe.   

“That’s it. Keep workin’ me, baby.” Ari rasps, his warm breath caressing the shell of your ear as his fingers dig into your hips. “There’s a good girl.” Choking back a sob, you’re forced to bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound of your cries.   

“Fuck, you feel so good. But if you want this dick, you’ve gotta be gotta be quiet.” 

Dear God, he was right. The last thing you needed was an audience. Especially not in the form of the entire police department. You were pretty sure that you’d die from embarrassment.

He whispers hungry kisses along the curve of your jaw while you continue to ride him, your internal muscles milking him for all he’s worth. Pure feminine satisfaction fills you when you hear him bite back his own groan. Emboldened by his response, you bear down, purposely clenching your heat around his throbbing cock.

“God, Beast! Fu–please!”

Pleasure mounts as your teeth graze the sensitive column of his throat, earning you a growl from your bounty hunter. You feel the sound, which rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest. It reverberates through you, all the way down to your toes.

Christ, it all felt so good. Enough to overwhelm your senses as you feel the coil tighten in your belly, threatening to snap with every moan. Every cry. Every measured stroke of your hips. It was almost too goddamn much. 

Wanting to catch your breath, you attempt to pull away. Which is all the invitation your man needs to capture your mouth with his own. A mere second goes by before his tongue teases its way past your lips. It’s a wild, unbridled claiming that leaves you with no doubt to whom you belong. 

He dutifully swallows each desperate cry. Every pathetic little mewl. He savors them with the knowledge that those carnal sounds were meant for him alone. 

“I know, little Bird.” Ari presses a fevered kiss against your damp brow once he finally lets you up for air. “I know.” He then wraps his brawny arms around your middle, pulling you flush against him. “I can feel it buildin’. Shit’s so good I’m about to burn up.”

Nodding, you throw an arm around his neck to pull him even closer. A sharp cry bursts from your throat, prompting him to slap a hand over your mouth. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when your eyes are too busy rolling in the back of your head. 

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.”

“Please!” Your vision blurs as you try to focus on your breathing. A tear makes its way down your cheek as your muscles begin to burn, protesting their overuse – although it’s quickly chased away by your partner’s eager tongue.

That simple, yet surprisingly animalistic act is enough to make your pussy cream, drenching his dick with a fresh wave of your slick. But as heavenly as this all feels, you can’t quite help it when your movements begin to falter.  

“Better not be gettin’ tired on me, baby.” The quiet snarl rips through you, ratcheting your feelings of ecstasy up another notch. His big hands move to your ass, tightly gripping the tender flesh as he encourages you to keep going. 

“I can’t…” You whine, stretching out the word. Needing more, you find yourself arching your chest up at him. In your haste to get undressed, you’d only managed to get your bra half off, leaving one breast completely bare. “Please…”    

“Need your man to help you, darlin’?” His tone takes on a slightly mocking lilt. “Is that it?” Your world blurs when he adjusts the angle, repositioning your joined bodies so that your back is now resting on his desk. “Can’t do it by yourself anymore?”

“Beast….” Your head lolls to the side, a thin sheen of perspiration cloaking your skin as the bounty hunter begins thrusting in and out of your spasming cunt. “M’so close.” You keen, seeking relief. “S’right there. Right there. Right there…”   

“Shit!” Ari grits out, biting his lip. “You’re even tighter like this – gotta pussy like a fuckin’ vice, baby.” He nuzzles his bearded face between the valley of your heaving breasts. And then you’re treated to the wet scrape of his tongue along your heated flesh before rearing back to pull your taut nipple into his waiting mouth.  

White hot sparks dance through your veins as Ari commits to wrecking you with his thick cock. Your mouth opens in a silent scream while he fucks you, his hips pistoning in and out of you as if his very life depended upon it. 

Ecstasy threatens to overwhelm you once more as your nails claw at his back, which only spurs him to go deeper, ensuring that you’d feel him for days. Your Beast didn’t give a shit about you leaving marks on his skin. 

He was the type of man who wore them with pride.

Ari hitches your leg around his waist, making you cry out. You’re rewarded with a sharp slap to your ass as a reminder to be quiet. “Gonna have to shut that pretty mouth, darlin’.” He reaches into his pocket to grab your previously discarded panties before shoving them into your mouth. “You brought this on yourself.” He hisses. “Walkin’ in here wearin’ in that dress.” 

In this position, it’s like you can feel every ridge, every vein of his fat dick as he plunders your passion-swollen folds. Your heel digs into his back when you feel that fiery coil in your belly tighten and snap, sending you careening over the edge and into bliss. 

You try to scream, but it’s hard with a mouth full of cotton. A fact for which you are eternally grateful. Wanting Ari to tumble with you, you clench your muscles over and over until you feel him unable to hold back. 

“FUCK!” He roars, his big body jerking as the force of his orgasm washes over him.   

Belatedly, you wish either one of you had thought to bother with a condom. But you push the thought away as quickly as it comes. Right now you felt too good to even consider wallowing in regret. Which meant that today’s neglect would just have to be tomorrow’s problem.     

For a few moments, the two of you are content to simply exist as you are. You stay joined until your respective breathing evens out. Smiling, you press a soft kiss to your man’s shoulder, prompting him to stand up and take you with him.

It’s difficult, but you manage to suppress a whimper when Ari removes himself from your precious heat. “Uh, thanks for bringing me dinner, baby.” He says, attempting to catch his breath as he helps you fix your dress before zipping up his jeans.     

“Never had someone get so excited over chicken enchiladas.” You try, and fail, to stifle your giggle.

“Well, what did you expect when you told me you made the guacamole from scratch?” He waggles his brows before dropping a swift kiss on your upturned lips. 

“I dunno.” You shrug, gripping the front of his shirt to drag him back down for yet another smooch. Of course, Ari is more than happy to oblige. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“Nah.” Your bounty hunter grins, toying at a stray curl with his finger. “Was he still listening to Taylor Swift when you walked in?”

“Yeah. He said something about being on an easter egg hunt. Apparently he has to connect all the dots before her new album, The Tortured Poets Department, drops.”

“Good. Then he didn’t hear shit.” 

Needing to rehydrate, you reach for his water before screwing off the cap and taking a sip. “Am I going to your place or yours tonight?” You manage to ask in between gulps. 

“Mine.” He grunts, nuzzling your nose with his. “I’ll see you in a few hours. We sleepin’ in tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You playfully hedge. Tomorrow was typically your late day anyway, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Well, consider it my goal to get home early enough to convince you.” Ari helps you stand up before moving to fix the skirt of your dress. “I’m gonna walk you out now. Go straight to my place and lock up.” He tucks another stray curl behind your ear.

“Okay.” You breathe, wishing you could bring him with you.     

“Good. And no matter how much I beg, don’t let me near that sweet pussy before you leave the parking lot.”

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

@katymae12344 @identity2212 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @blackhawkfanatic @jamneuromain @queerqueenlynn @pono-pura-vida @daykrisr999 @jamneuromain @ninacutebee16 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @emerald-writes @gh0stgurl

[writer84]

Hi Molly<3

How about captain Syverson and

“be still” - “i can’t” - “yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?”

morning cuddling with the love of your life

pairing: boyfriend!captain syverson x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, morning sex, fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, pet names (bunny), morning cuddles, established relationship taken to the next couple levels 👀

word count: 1,800ish

a/n: ahhh thank you so much for sending in this prompt—and for requesting my second favorite captain!! this one is just pure smut with a very fluffy ending, i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

The sunny spring morning began, as all your mornings had since you’d started dating Captain Syverson, with some sleepy cuddling. You’d only been dating a few months, and he hadn’t moved in yet, but Sy always seemed to end up in your bed—even the nights he worked late—and you enjoyed him being there. You loved falling asleep in his arms and waking up to his warm comfort too much to say anything about it.

That morning, the sun was shining through your bedroom windows and casting a yellow glow over everything. But it was chilly beyond your blankets, the spring day not having yet been warmed by the sun, and you were happy to stay in bed. You were still half-asleep when your fingers started searching for Sy’s broad, warm body, pulling yourself closer once you found him, humming happily when he wrapped his thick, beefy arms around you. 

You sighed contentedly with your face buried in his chest, your body settling into his comforting embrace as you breathed in the woodsy, familiar scent of his skin. The hair dusting across his burly chest tickled your cheeks pleasantly and you shifted closer, hitching your bare thigh over his hip. Because you wore only one of Sy’s t-shirts, your uncovered core pressed to the soft cotton of Sy’s boxers, and you felt his bulge twitch against your warmth.

A little shiver raced down your spine, but you were still too sleepy to do anything about the length hardening between your thighs. Besides, Sy didn’t seem inclined to take things further yet either, as he rumbled a deep snore.

The both of you dozed for a little while, until a deep, reverberating groan in Sy’s chest roused you again. It was only then that you discovered your hips were rocking gently against your boyfriend’s cock, stirring up a heat that crashed through your body as soon as you became aware. A soft gasp left your lips, and Sy groaned louder, knowing you were awake.

“Ya gotta stop, or ‘m not gonna be able to let ya sleep anymore, bunny,” Sy rumbled, his voice far too warm with sleepy pleasure to sound the least bit warning. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his beard tickling your skin, and you smiled into his chest, enjoying the heat curling deliciously through your body.

Stretching up, you reached blindly for Sy’s mouth, your eyes still closed and, after some fumbling, managed to kiss your boyfriend good morning. His arms squeezed you tightly as you kissed lazily, knowing you had all the time in the world to spend the morning in bed together.

“Maybe I’m done sleeping, daddy,” you murmured against his mouth when you broke the kiss. You rolled your body more purposefully, grinding your naked pussy against the bulge in Sy’s boxers and delighted in his grunt of pleasure. “Maybe I wanna feel you stuff that big cock of yours deep in my needy pussy.” 

Sy rumbled a chastising sound. “Christ, the mouth ya got on ya, bunny,” he muttered. Still, he slid his big hand down between your bodies, cupping your pussy possessively and thrusting two fingers inside to test your readiness. You were wet and slick for him, and he dragged a moan from your lips while he fucked you. His tone managed some menace as he growled, “Maybe I should shove my cock into that filthy mouth of yours and show you what dirty girls get for rilin’ up their daddies.” 

“Nooo, please,” you begged, pouting up at him and fluttering your lashes in the way that had Sy’s cock twitching against your thigh, his precum leaking onto your soft skin. “I’m already so wet for you, daddy, would you really deny me when my tight little hole is dripping and begging for you?” 

With a tortured groan, Sy rolled you onto your back, his hips settling between your thighs and pushing you open wide with his broad body. Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he slipped them into your mouth, and you eagerly sucked your own arousal from his skin. 

“Good girl,” he rumbled, the hint of a smile curving his mouth. 

While you were busy cleaning his fingers, Sy shoved his boxers down and lined up his cock with your entrance. He smacked your messy folds with the heavy head of his cock, watching as your eyes went heavy lidded and you moaned around his fingers. He removed them from your mouth and grinned when you let out a desperate whine. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a gasp, writhing beneath your boyfriend’s broad form.

Thankfully, Sy wasn’t interested in any more teasing and he pushed into your needy, aching hole. Your back arched up off the bed and you let out a sharp cry, enjoying the feeling of his thick cock stretching out your tight cunt. No matter how many times he fucked you, it always felt like Sy was pressing the air from your lungs and rearranging your insides to make room to accomodate his fat cock.

“Feel so fucking good, bunny,” Sy groaned when he was buried inside you, his balls pressing against your ass. For a long moment, he stayed there, his eyes closing like he was savoring the tight warmth of your body. “Christ, I could live in your cunt—ya feel like you were made for me.”

He was so big and hard and hot inside you that you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, your knees climbing his sides so he could push even deeper into your cunt. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and you moaned loudly, your inner walls gripping his hard length like your body wanted to suck him even deeper. You were practically folded in half beneath the beefy body of your boyfriend, but it wasn’t enough, you needed him to move, to fuck you—to empty his balls into you and fill you up with his seed.

“Be still.” The words were little more than an unintelligible growl from your Sy’s mouth. 

You whimpered, your hips rocking up against him, fucking yourself on his cock ever so slightly. Even if you wanted to stop, you didn’t think it was possible—not when you needed him so badly. “I can’t.” 

“Yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?” Sy’s hand gripped your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “If you don’t stop, I’m not going to be able to hold back,” he warned, his face grim with barely leashed desire. “I’m gonna flood your unprotected pussy with my come and I’m gonna knock you up—is that what you want?”

Even if you’d wanted to lie and tell him it wasn’t at all what you wanted, your body answered Sy’s question for you, your cunt squeezing his cock even harder, like you were wordlessly begging him to put a baby in your belly. But you knew your boyfriend would never do anything if you didn’t say the words, so you forced your mind to focus through the pleasure and delirious need to get the words out. 

“I want it, daddy,” you admitted on a whimper, crying out when Sy pulled back, only to surge forward and make your whole body shake with the force of his thrust. With your confession out in the open between you, it seemed to loosen your tongue and a flood of words fell from your lips. “I want you to knock me up, I want you to put a baby in me—your baby, Sy—I want you to make me a mommy, please, daddy!” 

“Jesus christ, bunny,” Sy ground out as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against your thighs while he thrust deep into your cunt. “Ya want daddy to breed you—ya wanna be daddy’s good little breeding bunny, huh?” 

“Yes, yes yes,” you cried, gripping Sy’s broad shoulders, your cunt squeezing his cock. You were so close. “Breed me, daddy—Sy, please—please!” 

“Fuck,” he grunted, pausing to reposition his hips. Then he was grinding against your clit with every brutal thrust into your cunt and it wasn’t long before you screamed your release. Your whole body clenched tight, making Sy groan like he was in pain as your pussy gripped his cock so hard, his release quickly followed yours. 

Sy captured your lips in a messy kiss, his beard burning your cheeks and chin as hips stilled. You felt his cock twitch deep in your fluttering cunt, and the rush of his come overflowing your pussy, dripping down your ass. You shivered and moaned into Sy’s mouth, your hands clinging to his shoulders and neck while your bodies came together in the most primal way possible.

When you were finally sated and the last of his come had been wrung from his cock, Sy rolled over onto his back, taking you with him. Your bodies were still connected, the evidence of your releases making a mess of the both of you. You sighed contentedly and snuggled into Sy’s chest, a happy smile on your face.

“I s’pose I should officially move in, huh?” Sy asked, a bit of playfulness seeping into his deep, satisfied drawl. 

“You better,” you muttered, putting a little poutiness into the words, which made Sy chuckle. Pushing yourself up, you gave Sy a kiss before pulling away and shooting him a stern look. “Then you might wanna start thinking about putting a ring on my finger,” you said pointedly, arching one of your brows.

Sy grinned so wide, it made his beard twitch. Without looking away from you, he opened the bedside table drawer and pulled something out. You didn’t see what it was until you felt him slip something onto your left ring finger. With a gasp, you finally looked away to see the pretty engagement ring he’d just put on you.

“Way ahead o’ ya, bunny,” he murmured, tipping your chin to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “Assuming it’s a yes, of course.”

You snorted. “Of course, it’s a yes,” you said, a giggle of joy in your tone. Then you kissed him again—and again and again and again. 

Eventually, you settled back down on Sy’s chest, unable to keep your eyes off the ring, turning your hand this way and that so you could admire the way it sparkled so prettily in the bright morning sunshine. Already, you were picturing a spring wedding—Sy would look so handsome in a suit beneath an arch of spring flowers…

Your head spun a little with how much your life had changed on that spring morning, but you couldn’t be happier. You were going to become Mrs. Syverson and start a family with your captain—but the best part was that you’d get to start every morning cuddling with the love of your life. 

And you couldn’t wait.

[writer84]

Let Me Be of Service

Pairing: Husband!Bucky x Pregnant!Wife!reader

Summary: With your growing belly, it gets a lot harder to take care of yourself. Luckily, your husband is always willing to lend a helping hand

Warnings: Fluff, a little smut, reader is heavily preggo, established relationship, Bucky is down bad, Bucky shaves his girl’s cooch and boot, crack fic, embarrassing stories about each other, implied smut at the end, banter, Bucky calls reader Petal and she calls him Duckie

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: A little something something to hold you guys over while I’m working on part 2 of Change My Ways For You. Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

You hear the clashing of pans in the kitchen followed by your husband’s curse. It brings a smile to your lips, knowing that he is trying to make you breakfast in bed, even though he is probably the worst cook you have ever met. When you first started dating, he made the joke that he was the only person that could start a fire with water. 

You didn’t believe him until he actually did start a fire while boiling water at his first and only attempt to make pasta for the two of you to eat. You still have no idea how he managed to do that, but ever since then it’s either you cook, he ‘helps’ you in the kitchen, which is you giving him the easiest thing to do and hope that he doesn’t blow you up, or you order out.

But ever since you got pregnant, doing everyday tasks has gotten harder. You get out of breath from just standing up. Don’t even start with trying to pick something up off the floor. If it hits the ground, it’s going to stay there until Bucky picks it up if you can’t grip it with your toes. Cooking has become a near impossible task for you. Who knew that carrying a super soldier baby would be so hard? 

Your belly was larger than the average woman’s stomach for how far along you are. It wasn’t just that your belly was big though. It caused so much back pain that it was easier to just lay on your side all day, and your feet ached and pulsed from the shortest walk. 

You felt like a bad wife, not able to help take care of the house, or yourself for that matter. But Bucky was a saint, he doted on you every second of the day. He took his leave of absence as soon as you started grunting while moving around. Bucky loved every minute of it though, albeit he hated seeing you in pain, but every change to your body was incredible to him. He was obsessed with how round you were, how full your breasts are, and the cute little pout that is always on your lips.

So you appreciated Bucky for trying to make you something to eat; although you knew it was going to be disgusting, possibly inedible, you would take it with a smile on your face because he tried and that was something you were grateful for.

You decided to get out of bed, not to take over making breakfast in the fear of burning down your house, of course not, but to watch your man in action. When you shifted, however, it became painfully obvious that you were overdue for a shave. The prickly hairs on your pussy were uncomfortable, making putting your legs together almost painful.

You have no idea when the last time you shaved was. All you knew was that it was when you could still see your feet, and that was a loooonnng time ago. Bucky didn’t seem to mind your body hair. He would still eat you out until you had to roll over from the weight of your belly making it hard to breathe. He never once complained about your public hair and you honestly forgot that you hadn’t shaved in so long, until this moment.

Throwing on Bucky’s henley, grateful that he was so fucking beefy so you could still fit into his shirt, although tight around the belly, and wobbled out to the kitchen. Bucky heard you, your feet heavy on the wood floors. “Petal, you’re going to love this! I made you grilled cheese and guess what?” He spins around, bright smile on his face, a grilled cheese plated in his hands. 

“I have officially made something edible without us having to evacuate the house, AND it’s only slightly burnt.” The early morning sun casts a soft glow on his naked chest. He looked like a Greek god, corded muscles topped with a bit of softness, the result of your cooking and less time with the Avengers. 

“Good job, Duckie. Good thing too because I’m starving. Bug isn’t going to stop kicking my bladder until she gets something to eat.” Crow’s feet bloom around Bucky’s eyes. He falls in love with you harder every day, seeing you carry his baby into the world, keeping her safe in your belly.

Bucky sets the singular grilled cheese at your spot on the table, pulling out the chair for you to sit, strong hands grabbing your waist, making sure you don’t strain yourself too hard. He spins around and gets you a cup of your favorite morning drink and places it in front of you, quickly sitting down opposite you, eagerly waiting for you to take a bite.

“Duckie, aren’t you going to have one, too?” His sweet Petal was too good to him.

“Well, Petal, only one turned out.” He gives you a sheepish smile and you can only giggle at him.

“Do you want half of mine then? I don’t mind sharing.” You were starving your ass off, but you wanted to reward Bucky with something for being so good to you.

He vehemently shakes his head. “Uh, uh, Petal, you and Bug need to eat. I can find something else. Now hurry up and tell me if I meet up to your standards.”

Before you take a bite you reach over the table to grab his right hand, running your fingers over the wedding band there. He couldn’t wear it on his left hand, but you wanted everyone to know that he was yours. “You always exceed my standards, Duck.”

Bucky blushes and gestures for you to have a taste. Your eyes widen as the cheesy snack hits your tongue. “Oh my god, this is actually good!” Bucky leans back in his chair and does a small victory dance, proud of himself for feeding his wife.

His celebration is cut short when he sees you shift in your seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Petal, what’s wrong? Is Bug kicking?” Bucky is by your side in seconds cupping your belly, only to find that Bug isn’t causing a raucous.

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” You look down, away from his prying eyes.

“We have been together for 8 years, Petal. I stood watch while you took a shit on the side of the highway, it can’t be that bad.”

You whip your head around. “Duckie! We don’t talk about that. I told you not to bring that up again. It was one time!” Bucky only laughs and turns his head away.

“Petal, we both know that it was twice and we had to stop by Mcdonalds so you could wash yourself after you wiped with poison ivy.” Bucky was barely containing his laughter, while you were dying of embarrassment. “You know, that was the moment I knew I was going to marry you?”

You scoffed. “When we were stuck on the highway while I popped a squat? That cannot be when you knew you were going to marry me. That is not what you said at the wedding.” 

“Didn’t think that you would appreciate that story being told to all of our friends and family. But your secret is safe with me.”

“Since we are bringing up the past, remember the time you were training with Sam and he hit you in the balls and you pissed yourself. You called me to bring you a new pair of underwear and I made sure no one knew.” You turned your chin up.

“C’mon, Petal, it wasn’t even that much. It was just a dot. And it wasn’t my fault I had a full bladder. Don’t make me bring what happened last week when you-”

You slapped your hand over his mouth, grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him close to you. “Don’t. You. Dare. We never mention that again, we forget it ever happened, yeah?”

Bucky moans at your dominance, it never failed to get his cock hard. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, but you have to tell me what’s got you wobbling in your seat. And I know it’s not because my cooking turned you on.”

You took a deep breath before looking into his eyes. “Promise you won’t laugh?” 

“I can’t promise that, Petal, but I won’t judge you.” Of course, Bucky and you always laughed at each other. Never when it was something serious. But you were able to joke around when the other did something embarrassing, but he would never joke about it if you were uncomfortable.

“My pussy hurts.” You squint your eyes, the grumpiest look on your face, and cross your arms.

“Petal, that’s all you had to say. I’m an expert on taking care of my sweet girl. If I lick her bud would that make it better?” You feel your cunt pulse at his words, but the scratching is too annoying to let you get turned on.

“No, Duckie! I mean my fucking hair is too long and it’s poking me and it fucking hurts and I can’t reach to shave because of this huge belly, and it makes me feel like a sasquatch and I just want to feel pretty.” You almost burst into tears, not knowing that you had so many emotions bubbling under the surface, but then again you were pregnant and couldn’t control them.

“Oh, Petal, you are the most gorgeous woman on this planet, shaven or not. And you don’t need to worry about doing anything for yourself, you hear me? If you wanted me to, I would wipe your ass for you.” You sucked your teeth and slapped his chest.

“I’m being serious!”

“And so am I.” 

Without another word, Bucky picks you up like you weigh nothing and heads to your bedroom and sets you down on the soft covers. “Duckie, what are you doing?” He still doesn’t say anything as he walks into the bathroom to get a towel and your conditioner and sets them on the bed. He leaves the room only to come back a minute later with a bowl of water and his razor. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“Oh, Petal, deathly.” He flicks the towel out and lays it on the edge of the bed and sets you there, your feet planted on either side of you and you’re forced to lay back with your belly.

You don’t see what he is up to, but you feel his hot breath fan across your folds and he groans. “Petal, is this making you wet? Your husband between your legs about to service you?” He chuckles as the twitch of your clit. “Fuck, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Makes my cock so fucking hard, could cum in my pants just from eating her.”

“Duckie, don’t lie. I know it doesn’t look pretty. Probably could fucking braid it.” You fight the urge to close your legs. You haven’t had sex in almost three weeks, mainly because your body is so exhausted all the time and you know you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.

“Petal, when have I ever lied to you? You think I would lie straight to my pretty girl’s face? How could I lie right in front of Heaven?” He leans in closer and you hear the deep inhale he takes. “And about that braid comment, I learned how to braid hair in Wakanda so that isn’t a problem for me.”

He gets a giggle out of you. “I can’t fucking believe you. You’re such a dork.” Rather than hear his chuckle, you feel it, his mouth pressed against your cunt, lapping your juices. “Fuck, oh shit, don’t stop.”

“Mmh, so fucking good. Don’t even need to eat breakfast when I have this meal on a fucking platter.” He dives back in, arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place. With his hands occupied with your thighs, you were able to grind against his mouth, urging him to focus on your clit. Bucky was in his own world, the hairs pressing against his face not deterring him in the slightest.

His groan is deep and sends shockwaves up your spine, unable to stop the jerk of your hips. All at once, Bucky lets go of your thighs and turns away to sneeze. With great difficulty, you sit up and stare at him, perplexed. “Duckie, you better not fucking tell me that my pubes make you sneeze or so help me.”

Bucky falls onto his back, clutching his stomach as his laughter rings out in the room. The obvious tent is his pants still there. “I’m sorry, Petal, just tickled my nose is all.” His entire face is red, each word coming out in a wheeze. 

“Duckie, it’s not funny.” Even at your protests, you feel yourself unable to control your laughter. 

“If it’s not funny, then why are you laughing, Petal?” Bucky is finally able to control himself enough to sit up and rest his head on your thigh.

“Because you were laughing. Don’t you dare try and eat me out right now.” You push his forehead away, much to his dismay. “Are you going to shave me or not?” Your pout has him pressing his lips together to stop the giggle from leaving his lips.

“Of course, my hedge.”

“DUCKIE!”

“I’m only joking.” 

You lay back and prop your feet up again, jolting slightly as Bucky runs his hands, dipped in water, over your folds and mound. While slightly more prepared for the conditioner, it still feels foreign to have his hands touching you like this.

“Fuck, Petal, just one more taste.”

“Duckie.”

“Fine.”

He starts with your lips, using one hand to hold them tight, taking extra care not to knick your sensitive skin. “Hey, Duckie?” The only view you have is of the ceiling so you don’t see the absolute concentration on Bucky’s face, tongue poking out, and eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, Petal?”

“Do you think it’s normal that I’m getting turned on by this?” Bucky loved that you were comfortable enough in your relationship to casually talk about random things, knowing that he wouldn’t judge you for them, most of the time he was on the same page as you anyway.

“Probably not, but if it makes you feel any better, I’m solid as a rock right now.” You giggle at his casual tone, almost as if he was asking you how your day was. “Don’t move, I’m performing a delicate operation here.” It only makes you giggle more and Bucky has to pull away, leaning over to the side so you could see his face.

“Okay, I guess I’ll just lay here then.” It was Bucky’s turn to suck his teeth in but doesn’t say anything else.

“Hey, Duckie?” Bucky sighs and begrudgingly answers. “Is that my slick running down my ass or water? I need to know how embarrassed I should be.”

“I could give it a taste and answer you.”

“Ew, no. I probably have little bits of hair everywhere.”

With each stroke of the razor you feel yourself relax more and more. The constant presence of his hands soothing you. Bucky taps your leg to signal that you’re done and picks you up, bending you over the bed. “Duckie, we are not having sex right now.”

“Petal, you know that I am very thorough in everything that I do, and I still have your perfect ass to shave” You groan and bury your face into the covers.

“C’mon, Duck, this is worse than before. I feel so exposed.” Bucky rubs his hand down your spine, his other hand reaching under you to support your belly.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, and I’m going to make my girl feel pretty.” He lands a light slap to your right asscheek and grinds his hips against your cunt once before pulling away.

He works just the same, using one hand to spread you open while carefully removing all your hair. When he’s done he pulls back, one hand cupping each cheek. You huff when he jiggles your ass to his heart’s content, letting him have his reward for taking care of you.

“Duckie! Did you just bite my fucking ass?” 

“Couldn’t help it, Petal, so fucking sexy.” 

You contemplate if you should kick him or kiss him. Your decision is cut short when he rolls you over again, now looking at your face. “Petal, we still have two legs to do and they both lead to my favorite petals.”

Fuck, you were in for it.

[writer84]

Too early, Navy. I want cuddles with Stud.

I understand that feeling, nonnie.

A Bit Longer

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You need to get up, but Bucky wants to hold you for a bit longer. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Fluff, pet names, teasing, sugary sweetness, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I really need to stop with the cuddle ficlets, right? Eh. Stud and Smartie, deserve it. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky’s lips were the first thing you felt when you woke up, bringing a smile to your face. They grazed your shoulder as his arm tightened around your waist, keeping your back against his chest. It was a subtle way to say he wasn’t ready for you to leave the confines of your bed. Or maybe he was the one who didn’t want to leave yet.

Not that you blamed him. It was early. Maybe too early. Cuddling for a bit was always a good way to start the day, his embrace warmer than the thickest blanket. Sex also worked as a way to both wear you out and energize you to tackle the day.

Cuddle, hot sex, cuddle again. Wait, what time is it?

“Okay. We need to get up,” you croaked when you finally looked at the clock, trying in vain with a groan to break from his hold when he refused to move his arm or let you up. Any other morning, you’d wiggle back against him to give him a proper wake up call, but that wasn’t today. “I mean it. No time for sexy time. I need to make you breakfast. Feed the cats. You have to work. God, I need to look over my resume again. Work on wedding stuff. I also need to-”

The throaty chuckle beside you stopped your ramblings because how could it not? Why was his laughter so sexy? Why did his mere existence make you stop in your tracks? In what universe was that right or fair?

Actually, it’s fair because I get to marry him.

“First, there’s always time for sexy time. Two, you didn't say ‘good morning’. By the way, good morning,” he teased, turning your body to face him. “And three, hey, look at me. Let’s just stay in bed for another minute.”

Your eyes slipped shut because there would be no resisting if you stared into his. His gaze had a way of pulling you in so deeply some days you feared you'd drown. But if he ever robbed you of your ability to breathe, he’d find a way to give you air.

“Too much to do,” you muttered. You could feel the seconds slipping away and now wasn’t the time to lounge around. “And if I look at you, you’ll turn one minute into two and then three and then four and so on and so forth and such and what have you. I probably wasted a minute just saying that.”

You tried to back up a bit because no way did your breath smell pleasant and Bucky didn’t need that in his face. A hand moved to the back of your head to keep you still. He didn’t have to tell you that he didn’t care about things like morning breath. If he wanted to hold you close, he’d do just that.

No exceptions.

He chuckled again before his lips brushed your eyelids and skimmed down your cheeks. “I just want you to stay here so I can hold you for a bit longer. Is that too much to ask?”

Well, when you put it like that…

You swallowed hard when he kissed the corner of your mouth, your heart skipping a beat. You were certain an embarrassing sort of whimper slipped out when he brought his lips to the other side. He wasn't rushing or demanding anything from you or trying to turn you on. He just wanted to be there with you.

So many believed that intimacy was just sex when it was much more. It was the feeling of being close and emotionally connected. It was familiarity and even friendship. You liked Bucky from the start, but the two of you were able to build a foundation by getting to know each other. It allowed you to bond on many levels, which only grew stronger once you two became a couple.

He showed you once again, without words, that he was your other half.

“I can feel you thinking, Smartie,” he whispered, his lips trailing back to your forehead.

“Just thinking of us, Stud,” you admitted, pressing your body closer to feel his chest against yours. You breathed him into your lungs and wondered if he knew how addictive he was. Savoring the moment, you allowed yourself to stay tangled up in him before you had to face the day.

His hand moving up and down your side nearly lulled you back to sleep. “You thinking about how you drive me crazy?”

What?

“I drive you crazy?!” You asked, realizing your mistake the moment your eyes flew open. A sea of blue stared back at you and you were too late to stop yourself from taking the plunge. Your gaze didn't have to drift down to know that he was wearing a triumphant smirk. “You made me open my eyes.”

“I sure did,” he smiled.

Well played, Stud. Well played.

The things you had to do seemed almost insignificant as you looked at each other. A minute went by as you listened to the beat of his heart and made no attempt to get up. The tips of your fingers brushed along the scruff on his chin as another minute ticked by and you reveled in the sigh he gave you in return.

Is this what living in the moment means?

“Will it always be like this?” You asked.

“Always like what?”

“You wanting to stay in bed with me a bit longer, even if we both have stuff to do.”

With a kiss to the tip of your nose and one against your smiling lips, he smiled back. “Always.”

Logically, you knew every morning couldn't be this way since life wasn't a fairy tale. The romantic part of you though, the one he helped bring to life, believed the two of you would continue to write your story together and make your own rules. If that meant the two of you cuddled in bed for a few more minutes, you’d happily help him write that chapter.

And every chapter after that.

Where do I get a man like this? 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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