#Very dark super soldier sandwiches
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Hey. Psst. Get in the dumpster again. 🔫 🔫 🔫
NO SHUT UP YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!! 😭😭
YOU CAN'T MAKE ME WANT HYDRA HUNTER ZEMO THINKING HE'S ABOUT TO TAKE OUT THE WINTER SOLDIER ONLY FOR THE WINTER SOLDIER'S HANDLER HYDRA STEVE FUCKING ROGERS TO SHOW UP, DESPITE THAT ALL OF ZEMO'S INTEL SAYS THAT HE SHOULD BE CAPTAIN AMERICA AND WHY THE FUCK IS HE HERE.
YOU CAN'T MAKE ME WANT THIS SUPER SOLDIER SANDWICH, TOO.
YOU CAN'T DO IT.
YOU CAN'T DO IT.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
It's too late for me...!!
#zemo#Hydra Steve Rogers#Winter Soldier#Super Soldier Sandwiches again#Very dark super soldier sandwiches#DELICIOUS super soldier sandwiches#WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS TO ME WINTER#HOW FUCKING DARE YOU
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The Perfect Life
Deleted Ending
Summary- 2.9k Dark Steve Rogers x Reader x Dark Bucky Barnes. This was the ending I wrote two years ago. But it felt wrong. I had to change it but didn't have the heart to delete it.
Warnings- Dub Con and breeding kink.
A/N- Enjoy this deleted scene of what could have been.
Masterlist
You stood at the kitchen counter, four slices of bread out on the counter, and you hummed softly as you spread smooth peanut butter on one, and crunchy peanut butter on the other. Next, a jar of blackberry preserves was spread on the sandwiches. Pressing the bread together, one was cut without the crust. The other is a precise diagonal.
Two glasses of milk were poured and set on the pristine table. You turned off the radio playing softly to keep yourself company and called out the screen door with a cupped hand. “Kids! Lunchtime!” Giving a few moments, you pushed open the door while your dark-haired son and blonde-haired daughter raced up the steps, followed closely by their dog. You had to grin as they both collapsed in the chairs.
Hard to believe they were no longer babies that needed your every minute, your kids were growing quicker than you liked as you worked on picking up the kitchen. They would be home soon and that meant you had to have all the chores finished for tonight. You hated disappointing them, the lessons were usually harsh and tonight had to be perfect. Your gaze lifted to the barn just outside, it seemed to loom as a warning of what would happen if you didn’t do as you were expected to do.
You were lost in your thoughts when Nattys voice said a little louder. “Mommy, when are our daddies coming home?” Your little sweet blonde haired daughter looked so much like her father, it made your heart clench as you looked at her. You could see Steve’s expression in waiting for an answer all over her face.
Sammy also nodded between crunchy bites of his sandwich, and you took a look at the clock above the stove. “Oh, they told me they would be back by tonight, before your bedtime. So... another five hours. Time enough for chores and baths before they get home.” You said on the sterner side, and they both wailed in protest.
“Alright you two! enough of that. Come on.” You went over to the table and sat in the other seat, grinning at them. “You know you always get to stay up an hour later when they get home.” Sam looked over at Nat and shrugged. “Moms got a point.” Your cooler headed son, it made a soft smile grace your lips. He also took after his father. Calmer than his sister most days, he was the voice of reason for your two children.
“True...” The little girl said as she finished off her milk and last bite of the sandwich.
Crisis averted. After they were finished, both the kids went to do the few chores assigned to them and play, later that evening you three were outside, you sitting on the porch steps with Mutt the dog while Nat and Sam ran around with some homemade bubble solution, trying to see who could make the biggest bubble when an all to familiar rumble came from above your heads and went around the back of the house, making the ground vibrate with the arrival.
The wands were abandoned and both kids raced around out back, while you waited, listening to the excited squeals and cries of 'Daddy' emitting. Soon enough both men came around the side of the house, Bucky carrying Nat and Steve listening to a very animated talking Sam. Bucky came up first, whispering to Natty who grinned before he let the girl go who Immediately hoped over to Steve, wrapping around his neck and nuzzling her father.
“Miss us Doll?” Bucky drew you up off the porch steps and you wrapped your arm around his neck, smirking up at your super soldier.
“No, nice to not get squished between you to in bed.” Bucky arched a brow and you grinned, going to tiptoes and giving him a kiss, like you know he was wanting, whispering against them. “Course I did. It's always good when you two are home.”
“That's the answer I was looking for, fucking minx.” Dragging out the kiss, he let his hands roam your back and squeeze your ass a bit, making you arch into him and you bit your lip.
“Now who is the tease.” Dancing out of his hold, he watched you a second and then mentioned loud enough for the kids to hear him.
“It's getting late you know? How about some bedtime stories kids? Bet I can beat you two up those stairs.”
Steve let Nat go and the two of them kissed you goodnight before they followed Bucky inside, quick to race up the stairs. “I will be up in a moment,” Steve answered before turning to you, his eyes shining when he finally got to pay attention to you. “Beautiful as always.” Steve grasped the back of your neck to bring you in close and you move up to your tiptoes to reach his mouth. He placed a possessive kiss on you, deepening it with a groan before letting you ease back to your feet. “I missed you Sweetheart,” he admitted as you caught your breath, smiling up at him.
“Hard Mission Soldier?”
“A long one, Buck and I told Tony that we were going to need a bit before he sign us up for another.” His hands roamed down your sides to grasp your hips, his fingers digging in slightly and you rubbed his chest to ease him, feeling the tension riddle him.
“We all would really like having you and Bucky home more. Go upstairs and spend some time with Sam and Nat. I will see you and Buck afterward and we can talk more about this.”
“Okay.” He pressed one last kiss to your lips, this one gentler in his embrace. “You better be upstairs and ready when we are done putting the kids to bed.” Steve was sure to warn you before he pulled away and went upstairs.
Watching him descend up the stairs, you look down at Mutt, parting his head. “Come on boy, gonna be a long night for me I think.”
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You made your way into that yellow room, that had long since turned into a shared bedroom for the three of you. As you donned a simple sleep tee for now, you listened to Bucky read the last of a children's book and Steve in the hallway, easing one of the kid's doors closed. “G’night Buddy, Love you.” Silence started to settle over the house as the bedroom door opened, both of them came in and saw you sitting on the edge of the massive bed. Steve veered off, starting to get undressed while Bucky immediately went over, pulling you up to a stand once more and dipping his fingers under the shirt.
“Couldn't wait to get back to you.” He was drawing you into his lap when he sat in a chair by the window, his fingers bunching in the shirt you had put on, and dragged it over your head, once gone you carded your fingers through his hair, brushing it back while you smiled.
“I felt the same way Soldier. I missed you two.” He leaned back enough to take a admiring look at you and cupped your breasts, his fingers teasing you to tight peeks, licking his lips. Behind you, Steve rubbed your shoulders, and tilted your face back, to look down at you while your expression turn hazy with lust.
“Good thing you're going to show us then, Bucky were going to fill her all up, fuck so good that she will be a dripping hot mess. What do you think about that Sweetheart?” Steve smirked as Bucky dipped a hand between your spread thighs, making you whimper as he rubbed your gathering slick over your folds.
“Oh she's so fucking wet and needy already. Just wanting to be pounded on our cocks. Fuck her so good, maybe put another baby in her?” Bucky looked at Steve, and he nodded.
“It's a good time, we've been talking about staying home more. What do you think? Fuck another baby into you tonight?” Steve pushed a finger into your mouth and you sucked on it with a needy expression, nodding with enthusiasm. You made him chuckle at your needy whine, Bucky filling you with two fingers, making you arch and roll your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers.
“Yes! please," You asked so nicely around Steve’s fingers and Bucky opened his pants, Steve releasing you to sit on the bed and watch the two of you. “Put a baby in me, fill me back up. I need it.”
You reached for Bucky’s cock, pulling it out and stroking it with just a slight squeeze you knew he liked. “Good Girl, but you need to turn around, let Steve see how good you look getting fucked.”
Easing you to a stand, he twisted you to face Steve, who was now palming himself from where he sat at the edge of the bed and Bucky knocked your thighs apart while sitting you back down. His cock nudged against your entrance and slowly you lowered on him, stretching around the almost impossible size, making you inhale sharply and moan as you dug your nails into your thighs. “Fuck...”
“Doll, I know you can handle it.” He grasped your wrists and brought your hands to hold onto the back of his neck, causing you to arch your back and give Steve a view of your body tightening. Bucky’s hands moved to your hips as he kissed your shoulder, starting to move you with a firm grasp on your hips. At this angle Bucky always felt bigger, his cock dragging back and forth, hitting you deeper and harder the faster he started to move you. “Gonna leave you dripping and you're going to thank me.” Your nod at his words he’s pressing into your skin, sucking marks onto your neck, showing that you belong to him.
Steve is watching the way your breasts bounce and you start rolling your hips, looking to take more of Bucky as he tilts himself up to fill you. Your slick is coating your thighs while those lewd moans of yours started spilling sweetly, head tipping back to get lost in the sensation. Steve’s cock started throbbing to bury into your cunt, pounding into you till you were a sobbing mess. Your face contorted before his eyes, Bucky angling just right and twisting your nipples, you arched as you started to roll back your eyes. “Don't stop Buuuu...” and you drifted off into a wail, Bucky biting down on your shoulder and moving you faster, harder, more demanding as he filled your pussy, just dripping all over the chair. Steve smirked seeing you get fucked but he didn't wait for you to recover, to worked up to wait for you.
Bucky pushed you off his cock into Steve's hold, smirking as your head tilted a bit, trying to focus. His hand wrapped around his angry cock, stroking and squeezing while Steve pushed you onto the bed. Your hips were lifted and knees pushed under you to keep you on all fours, your face pushed down with a firm press of his hand against the back of your head. You moaned out in some form of surprise while trying to clench your thighs. Steve gave a firm slap against your ass that made you jolt and fist your hands into the sheets beneath you. “You still with us Baby?”
“Yes Steve, I'm still here.” You panted and he gave another slap on your ass just to see his hand print on you, spreading the cheeks and spitting on your tight hole.
“One day we’re going to have to fuck this perfect ass.” the tip of his finger circling around and pressing against the rim. You bury your face into the mattress with a hiss and when he pushed in past the tight rim, you tensed up.
“Relax baby, it's not that much. This time.” He lowered over your back and kissed your shoulder before pulling back and taking his thumb away to admire the way you clenched, working his pants down in the process. You were relieved to feel his cocks head, press against your clit instead of your ass hole this time. His cock pushed between your folds and you can feel him slide it back and forth teasing. “Steve!” you hiss out and look over your shoulder at the blonde super soldier just teasing you, pressing and circling against your clit before dragging back to your leaking entrance, still full of Bucky’s cum.
“Needy thing, ain't she Steve?” Bucky chuckled from the chair, having the perfect view of you and Steve on the bed. You gave a wiggle of your ass to entice Steve to finally fuck you while whining.
“She sure is... guess those extra few days were just too hard for her.” Steve replied and you hissed in slight frustration. Just pressing himself into your entrance and stopping.
“If you don't continue I'm gonna...”
A snap of his hips made you scream into the mattress at the suddenness and his rhythm was a fast-paced claim, making you cry and hiss, biting at the bedsheets. “Your gonna what, Sweetheart? Make demands?” Steve's hand curled around her shoulder so he can shove you back to meet him, digging his fingers in harshly” “Come on baby, I can't hear you.”
Bucky came over and moved onto the bed, pushing your shoulders up so your hands were planted onto the mattress and you had to lift your chest off the bed. Steve never slowed down pounding into you from behind with bruising fingers marking your hips to keep you still, your head lifted to see Bucky's cock in front of you. “Your in no place to make demands Doll, but I am. Open up.” His cock slapped your mouth till you parted your lips and looked up at him with wide eyes and eagerness as his hand fisted in your hair, When he started to rut into your mouth, taking him faster than usual with the way Steve was fucking you from behind. The motion kept you being pushed and pulled between them, gagging you on Bucky’s cock.
You really went mindless now, you didn't have to think beyond the fact you were being fucked between two super soldiers and this might be the time you finally break being pummeled with all that serum filled power.
Soon you were being filled with Steves's seed, painting your pussy with him while Bucky was sure to have you swallowing him down, each one easing from you with gentle strokes of their hands, praising you for being a good girl while you sink into the mattress. You savor the gentleness of getting tears brushed away and praising kisses flowing up your back and along your neck. Steve moved off the bed with a stretch, looking down at you as you nuzzled against Bucky's hand cupping your face and giving gentle caresses to your cheeks. “Beautiful Doll, but you don't think we're done yet do you?”
“No, of course not.” You said softly and Steve leaned over to kiss your temple.
“We will clean you up though.” Steve scooped you up while Bucky went for a warm cloth. Steve cradled you in his lap in the chair by the window, your face burying in his neck with a content sigh. It was always like this with them, their claim on you was unrelenting and you welcomed it now with open arms.
They continued going all night till you couldn't handle it anymore. Finally let you fall asleep between them.
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It was later in the morning when you finally woke up. Your eyes blinked and you stretched slightly to moan out. Your whole body ached and you lifted the blanket to look at yourself. Riddled with bruises from Steve and Bucky’s enthusiasm, you were already prepared for the way their love would show up on your skin. They always had the desire to see you covered in their marks. This time it was bruises instead of knife marks. Your move to sit up against the pillows when Bucky came in the room, carrying a tray with steaming food, a cup of coffee, and a smaller sunflower laid on the side. “Morning Doll.” Bucky greeted while setting the tray down. “Wondered when you would be joining us again.”
“That late?” You ask while picking up the coffee and taking a sip, knowing it would be made just the way you liked it.
He gave a nod and settled down while you set your cup aside and picked up the sunflower, tracing the petals before setting that aside for something that looked more appetizing. The buttered toast was soon partially inhaled. “Yes, just about ten thirty. Kids were up early, so Steve took them out for a hike out back.” Bucky shifted over and put his arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple. “How are you feeling?”
“I'm okay.” You say as you pick up your fork, and dig into the eggs, scooping them onto a bite of toast. “Sore, but nothing to be worried about.” You bite into it with enthusiasm, and Bucky can't help the grin on his face, seeing you so excited about the food he brought.
“That's good, 'cause Steve did want to discuss what we talked about last night,” Bucky mentioned before relaxing back and, watching as you continued your breakfast.
You didn't say anything, there was nothing to say. You knew your place with these two men, and just like it was promised before to you all those years ago, they would treat you well. As long as you didn't break the rules. You belonged to them, they could do with you as they wanted. Your life was here, in this house, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sunflowers.
#dark steve rogers and reader#dark bucky barnes and reader#dark steve rogers#dark bucky barnes#the perfect life#non con#dub con#deleted scene#amber writes#sweater writes#marvel au#chris evans characters#sebastian stan characters
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got any general headcanons for each tf2 merc? :D
miscellaneous tf2 mercs headcanons
SCOUT
- transgender asf
- uses terrible pick up lines and invites his dates to fast food restaurants and yet he's wondering why he can't pull any girls
- looks approachable but in reality you really don't wanna deal with this guy, he's a menace. doesnt matter if you're his friend or not, he'll backstab you for money (literally, of course)
- has an energy drink addiction. gets really snappy when he doesnt get his 5 cans of bonk atomic punch a day
- HATES silence, it stresses him out so he likes to put on some music whenever he can. it helps him focus and overall scout just prefers to have some sort of background noise while doing literally anything. the only problem is that he likes his music loud. like, the whole house is shaking kind of loud. the other mercenaries hate him for this, because when they tell him to quiet it down, he instead turns the volume all the way up like the little shit he is❤️ the only way to make scout turn it off is to fight him. it isnt that difficult to beat him up, but it's still annoying to go through all of this yknow
SOLDIER
- developed a hearing difficulty during his time in the war. if you're wondering if his bad hearing is the reason why he yells all the time, then no. he was always yelling like that
- keeps bringing random stray animals to the base. the others told him many times that NO, he can't just bring in wild animals whenever he wants to! medic literally fainted the last time soldier wanted to sneak a possum into the base. not gonna lie tho, it's pretty wholesome watching soldier "train" some random field rodents. they bite him and hiss at him, but soldier sees that as a sign of their resilience and love for fighting so all he does is watch them with a big smile on his face. he even praises them with stuff like "GOOD JOB RECRUITS! I AM SO PROUD!"
- has a very strict sleeping routine and always manages to get a perfect 8 hours of sleep. he doesn't even use an alarm, he just knows when to fall asleep and when to wake up and does so on command. also soldier looks very funny in his sleepwear. he wears a night gown and a big nightcap that covers his eyes
- evil autism
PYRO
- idk what mental illnesses pyro has to but oh boy there's definetely something very wrong with them
- their room is very.....interesting. on one side there's cute plushies and glow in the dark stickers. on the other side there's scorched furniture and -- oh my god are those human bones?!
- theyre like those slashers that take pictures of their victims. pyro hangs these gruesome photos of people dying on the walls of their room, but to them it's just cute selfies with their bffs 😼😼
- they sometimes bring their teammates body parts or organs of the enemies as a gift. kinda like how cats bring their owners dead animals. this is literally pyro's love language
- i have one joke headcanon about pyro and it's that they're not a human. pyro is actually just 20 frogs in a hazmat suit carrying a flamethrower
HEAVY
- literally the most reliable person on the team. he's super nice and friendly and polite and kind and very very caring......ok can you guys tell im biased towards him
- the opposite of scout. heavy looks very intimidating so it's hard to approach him at first but if you start talking to him you soon realize hes very nice to talk to :) awesome dude to just chill and eat sandwiches with
- bookworm!! his room is filled with a bunch of different books, most of them being in russian but he has some foreign ones too. i think heavy is very smart but it's just that his broken english makes him appear kinda dumb. he struggles with processing english sentences and pronunciation. that's why he speaks so simple and slow
- if you ask heavy if he is medic's wife he says yes, if you ask medic if heavy is his wife he says no. its up to you to decide who's lying
DEMOMAN
- talks in his sleep. like a LOT. dude will literally recite to u the periodic table during his 20 minute nap
- even more patriotic than soldier,which is saying a lot. has a bunch of pictures of scotland around his room and probably even wears underwear with the flag of scotland. he's literally like the embodiment of the guy yelling SCOTLAND FOREVER!!!!!
- demo feels insecure about his drinking habit. like usually he doesnt think too much about it, but sometimes he really feels ashamed of himself for being an alcoholic. his mood gets very sour on these days, so to feel better he reaches for another bottle of scrumpy to forget about his worries.....and the cycle continues
- often looses parts of his body due to working with bombs and other explosive stuff. honestly i have no idea what these guys would even do without medic
ENGINEER
- whenever it's his turn to cook for the base he's like "alright boys get ready to get blown away" and then it's just another barbecue. not gonna lie though, his food is delicious. the mercs gave him an apron saying king of the grill
- loves fishing!! and yea he unironically wears those women love me fish fear me shirts whenever he goes fishing. he genuinely thinks it's stylish
- invents random shit for fun. he spends most of his time alone in his workshop so who knows what weird things he's making. most of the time his personal little inventions are practical stuff, maybe something like an automatic beer opener or a toaster that never burns the bread. but he's definetely making something more, something bigger. idk what it is but maybe i dont even want to know
- has a really strange sense of humor. you can tell him the funniest joke ever with the most genius punchline known to mankind and hes gonna look at you with a blank expression, uttering a confused "...wha", but show him a picture of a chicken in shoes and hes gonna burst out laughing. oh engineer you would have loved 21st century humor
MEDIC
- has like 12 mental illnesses. yes he's aware of all of those. and YES he chooses to ignore his symptoms and doesn't take any medication
- he did loose his medical license, but that's because he kept experimenting on his patients. he still does that, except now he's actually allowed to do it (well, not really). but other than that he's still quiet skilled in his field and his abilities are nothing but impressive
- a total drama queen. also he's pretty germaphobic for a guy that digs his hands in someone's guts for a living
- loves his birds so much. he forgot their names, so now he calls them all archimedes. he loves taking care of them and doesnt trust any of the mercs with his birds. but heavy is an exception, heavy can feed them :)
SPY
- gets even LESS bitches than scout does. LITERAL ZERO!! he miraculously pulled scout's ma but ever since then the man had a catastrophically low amount of bitches. maybe it's because of the balaclava he never washes
- horrible, horrible man. he can be responsible and polite but only if it's beneficial for him, other than that he's pretty rude to everyone he meets. he's respectful towards women tho, but that's basic standards
- spy is the inventor of your mom jokes. it's true, he told me himself
- don't tell anyone but spy loves romantic comedies. however he thinks liking romcoms is like the most embarrassing thing ever and really doesn't want anyone to think he's sappy like that, but in reality most of his teammates know he's a hopeless romantic and they really don't care
- is the best cook on the team, but very rarely makes food for the others. he always complains about how everyone else's food is bad and how only his food is digestable, but he never cooks himself. the only way to get him into the kitchen is to do something nice for him in return. smh
SNIPER
- neurodivergent asf
- ok so you know how some introverts dont like to approach others so they just stare at the person they want to talk to until theyre noticed? well yea sniper does that. like sure he could just go and talk to someone directly but why do that when he can just. stare ominously
- bird enjoyer!! brings medic's doves little treats when the doctor isnt looking
- has a VERY quetionable diet. he's like those dudes on youtube that eat moss and bugs and talk about how nutritial it is. sniper is used to staying long periods of time outside, so he's used to any and all challenges the wildlife can offer. he may look scrawny, but he totally wrestled an alligator at some point in his life (and won)
- he's the team's exterminator. if there's a spider in the base sniper puts it in a jar and releases it outside <3
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karma is a cat (but it loves me)
✧ summary hazel levesque probably shouldn't have yelled at the black cat trying to steal her lunch. but screw "probably" because when karma's in her favor, everything works out just the way she wants it to.
✧ genre fluff(ish, not really)
✧ word count 651
✧ warnings none
✧ link to main masterlist
✧ A/N first of all, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY HAZEL MY CHILD!!! okay so heads up there's some shitty writing ahead but i really need to get out of my writer's block phase (also i know it's super short sorry for that heh) sooo please enjoy!
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Camp Jupiter was probably the most beautiful place Hazel had ever seen. Fresh water fountains, impeccably carved marble structures, and a stunning lake next to the Colosseum—and that wasn’t even half of it. Most of all, she admired the order, the organization, and the discipline Reyna instilled into every camper. She marveled at the scene, biting into her grilled cheese sandwich.
Meow.
Hazel jumped, looking for the target of her glare. She found it at her feet—a black cat with fur as dark as the night, hitting her with the classic puppy eyes—how ironic—that pleaded, “Food, please?”
“No. Nuh uh,” she said firmly. The cat shrank back, returning her glare. “Meowww,” it chided with a disapproving look.
“I just finished my morning training,” She replied defensively. “You’re not going to take this moment of peace away from me.” She turned back to her view of the ancient Colosseum, gripping her sandwich tighter.
The cat almost left her alone. Almost. It gave one last attempt at an innocent look, a look that nearly melted down Hazel’s tough walls, but she shook her head. “Scram!” She whisper-yelled to the little furred creature, sighing once it scampered off into a nearby bush.
“Is that how you would treat a hungry animal?”
Hazel whirled around and was suddenly face-to-face with Camp Jupiter’s other praetor; Frank Zhang. Their noses nearly touched, and she took a step back, gulping. Where had he come from? She tried to put the question into words, but all she could say was, “Where—you?” But the realization sank in before Praetor Zhang could explain.
“I’m sure you know of my abilities by now, Hazel Levesque,” he said with a faint smile. Hazel did her best to return it, her hands tighter than ever around what was left of her lunch. There was something about Frank Zhang that made him seem intimidating but friendly all the same, and it had Hazel’s social skills winding up in a mess.
“I–I am so sorry,” she blurted, feeling her face flush from embarrassment. “If I’d known, I swear, I would have–”
“You know, Hazel, most Romans value strength. They value brawn.” He swiftly cut her off with a searching gaze. “And don’t get me wrong, those are very important for a soldier to have. But you know what’s also important?” Frank brushed his fingers against a sunflower growing from the soil. “Empathy. Kindness. Compassion. Because that’s what makes us a community. That’s what makes us so human and mortal and unlike the gods.” He shook the wistful feeling off his face and looked back at her with striking eyes that reminded her of the color of the earth after a heavy rainstorm. “You get me?”
Hazel nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get you.”
Frank smiled at her then, a smile that crinkled his eyes and brightened his face and Hazel had no option other than to smile back. Curse you, Zhang, she thought, curse you for making me feel this way.
The young Praetor glanced behind her at the sun at its highest point in the sky. “It’s noon,” he stated plainly. “I have to get going or Reyna will hunt me down.” He gave her a slight dip of his head, one of respect and acknowledgement, and turned his back on her. Hazel’s heart gave a slight pang at the mention of his co-Praetor, but she figured her invitation would be worth a shot.
“Wait.”
Frank swung his gaze back to her, and she gulped.
“Speaking of. Um. Kindness.” She wrung her hands nervously. “What are your thoughts on dinner tonight, out here?” Hazel immediately flinched at the way it came out, but Frank only grinned.
“Sure. It’s a date.” He sent her a little wave that flipped her heart upside down and jogged down the hill.
Needless to say, Hazel’s head was filled with echoes of the word “date” for the rest of the afternoon.
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What was a smoke break without cigarettes? Stress pressed on the Turk's mind like a thumb and forefinger squeezing his brain, but he had to quit. Had to. Reno had not smoked for months and did not keep any on his person, but palms slapped against his body, feeling for the familiar shape of a cigarette box . . not even the slim rectangular of a lighter was found. Reno supposed he could eat food like normal people did with free time, but ShinRa vending machine sandwiches and energy bars packed with who knew what really were not up his alley.
Nameless, faceless ShinRa employees mingled meerily, so where the hell was Rude? The red haired Turk pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against and in the midst of his foul mood, he missed the coming approach of ebony spiky hair and steps pepped with too much energy. He thought the kid was going for the vending machines, but when attention was turned towards the Turk and the Turk alone, turquoise eyes glanced upwards at Zack's face. Whenever someone approached him who wasn't in the circle of the elite Turks, they either had important messages to pass or idiotically asked for help.
What fell from the SOLDIER's mouth was certainly more important than stupid. Actually, it was very important. Reno blinked slowly, brow scrunching together in wrinkles, and lips parted slightly in a dumbfounded expression. Taken back appearance did not last long however, and the next second Reno was slapping the other man's shoulder while laughing. Laughter was enough to rouse the attention of everyone in the room, but no one dared poke their nose in a Turk's business for too long. Reno's laugh subsided and an imaginary tear was wiped from the corner of eye.
( ❛ HOT, huh? You hittin' on me or d'ya' want fashion advice? ❜ )
Reno had only looked at the newbie SOLDIER as a both a kid and a . . SOLDIER — a mako infused freak of nature, but the Turk suddenly looked the ebony haired man in a different light. He teasingly offered him a mischievous look as bare fingers ran along the neckline of his unfastened button down, exposing more flesh as he did so.
( ❛ I'm an amazing employee; Midgar's Man of the Year. If I wanted to wear a fishnet shirt and shorts that showed off my . . assets, they'd let me. I'm THAT good. As for you . . . ❜ )
The Turk took a step backwards and purposefully eyed Zack from head to toe very slowly. He had never seen the SOLDIER naked or even shirtless, but his type were muscular freaks; they had to be to undertake the work handed to them and to equip their impressive weapons.
( ❛ Just get rid of the shirt altogether, or wear something like ol' Sephiroth — deep leather v-neck with straps. ❜ )
"Does Shinra really let you run around like that? With your collar super OPEN?" Zack peered at his uniform, quirking a dark brow. "It seems really dangerous. Really hot-- but also really dangerous." He paused, tugging at the collar of his turtleneck. "Do you think I could pull it off?" @nerdynanny ( is this a love confession, zack ?? )
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All you had to do was ask
Summary: Your ‘no strings attached’ deal with Bucky goes to shit when he requests you to stay in bed with him one night. The concept of cuddling alien to the super soldier, lucky for him you’re willing to help out.
Warnings: 18+, little smutty, fluff.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Square Filled: Cuddling
WC: 1.2k
A/N: Written for @avengersbingo Feedback is love!
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Taglists open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be included in any of these lists ;))
Exhausted pants and sighs echoed broke the silence of the night as you and Bucky got your breathing back to normal. Your room was dark minus a little moonlight streaming through the glass wall that was adjacent to the bed, you watched Bucky’s silhouette as he got dressed to leave.
“Goodnight (Y/N).”
“Night Buck.”
This part of the deal always broke your heart just a little every single time, even though it was you who had initiated the whole ‘no strings attached’ with the super soldier after a drunken night. You and the guys went out for drinks to celebrate absolutely nothing and it had led to you and Sam singing your heart out on the streets before Steve and Bucky – who couldn’t get hammered even if they tried, dragged you both back to the compound.
Bucky wanted to make sure you were safely tucked in bed and that ended up with him staying with you that night, holding your hair back while you puked, making you a quick sandwich to sober you up and before you knew it, you were kissing the man before peeling his clothes off.
It worked out well in the beginning, sneaking around and emerging from each other’s bedrooms while other residents of the compound were blissfully unaware. Six months in and you were contemplating either expressing your feelings or calling the whole thing off in case it went south.
You stayed up after Bucky left going over the last few months before realizing you were thirsty. Getting to the kitchen meant passing Bucky’s room that was left open for some reason. As you got closer, you could hear faint groans and heavy breathing coming from the other side. Pushing it open, you saw Bucky’s sleeping form on the floor, sweat gleaming on his torso as the nightmare he was having disturbed the peace he deserved.
“No!” he sat up yelling, eyes flying open to look around before they landed on your frozen form illuminated by the light coming from the TV that was left on. Your feet took you near him and you knelt down wiping some of the sweat off his forehead in attempts to calm him down.
“It was just a bad dream Bucky. You’re alright.”
You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, glad when he didn’t resist, rubbing his back in soothing circular motions, running your fingers through his hair softly you felt him nod in agreement. This wasn’t the first time you found him after a nightmare, and he was glad you were the one making him feel safe every time this happened.
He followed you in the kitchen, staying silent as you brought two glasses of water before joining him on the barstools.
“Still sleeping on the floor?”
“Yeah the bed is too soft. I can’t fall asleep there.”
“Well we could always get you a new mattress.”
“We?”
“I—I don’t mean we like you and I. I mean I could come along if you wish to o—or Steve you know whatever you want.” You fumbled with words, keeping your eyes on the glass, mentally slapping yourself for letting the ‘w’ word slip out.
“We can go together. I’d like that.” He managed a small smile to ease your distress.
You were heading back to your room when Bucky stopped you by grabbing your hand all of a sudden making you stop in your tracks,
“Hey could you stay with me tonight? If—if you don’t mind.”
Taken by surprise for sure but, your heart fluttered hopelessly as you nodded and followed in into his room. Another thing that managed to surprise you was Bucky’s room since this was the first time you were actually in it, blank walls, with little to no furniture minus a few essentials. The bed was untouched, you knew it as soon as you entered, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were actually going to ‘sleep’ with Bucky for the first time.
“Do you um, have a preferred side?” You asked, drawing the covers back before sliding in as he shook his head in a no as he joined after turning the lights out.
It almost felt wrong to lie in bed together with a considerable distance in between. Luckily Bucky sensed it too but found it rather hard to express.
“You can shift closer if you want. I mean—”
“Bucky. Do you want to cuddle?”
You didn’t need light to know there’d be blush creeping up his neck as you asked that question. It was funny and endearing at the same time.
“Have you never done this with anyone before?”
“Nope.”
“Of all the things we’ve done, I can’t believe you were afraid to ask for a cuddle.” You chuckled, scooting closer before resting your head on his chest, hearing his rapidly beating heart over the T-shirt he’d pulled over before getting in bed.
“I just didn’t want it to be weird. Sorry.”
“But it’s not weird. Is it?”
“No. This feels perfect. Thank you (Y/N).”
“All you had to do was ask.”
Your grin got wider when he hugged you back after pulling the covers up, comfortable silence falling over the two of you as sleep began tugging at your eyelids once more. Holding your sleeping form so close to his body, hearing the steady beating of your heart lulled him into a peaceful dreamless sleep, something he had craved for a very long time.
.
A sharp irritating sound of your morning alarm stirred you awake next morning but you soon realized there was very little you could do to move. To be honest you were afraid to, fearing he would think this had been a huge mistake.
The pleasant weight of the super soldier, his limbs wrapped around your body with a tangled mess of the sheets and his soft breath against your neck prevented you from moving a muscle. Your attempts of squirming to turn the alarm off provoked a groan from Bucky who pulled you back against his chest, burying his face deeper into your hair, mumbling something incoherent.
“Bucky we’re gonna miss training…” you whispered, reluctant to let him go yourself but you were sure to receive an earful from the Captain if you didn’t show up.
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“M’ not ready to let you go.” His sleep-heavy voice travelling straight down to your core, the fact that his half-mast but clothed erection was pressed up against your thigh didn’t help either.
Giving up, you shut your eyes once more, relishing in the feeling of being so close with the man you loved. The quite calm was disturbed once more when Bucky’s phone buzzed loudly from the nightstand. Now it was your turn to groan.
“Come on we gotta go. Your best friend won’t let us be.”
Bucky lift his head just enough to gaze at your face through his eyelashes, his features undeniably gorgeous even more so in the morning light.
“What if we do a little cardio in here first?”
You were about to reply when he dipped down to capture your lips in a kiss. It felt like a dream come true to wake up next to him, share a morning kiss.
You could really get used to this.
Rolling you over, he pulled you to lie on top, never breaking the kiss as one of his hands held you by your neck while the other pressed your ass to his growing bulge.
You chuckled, sitting up just to turn Bucky’s phone off before removing your top to resume your morning activity.
“All you had to do was ask.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes one shot#avengers bingo 2021#avengers bingo#bucky barnes x y/n#fatws bucky#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fanfic
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⭑ favor fire | joker (fire force).
pairing: joker x fem!reader
notes: I love the concept of the holy sol’s shadow, so uh, former assassin!reader but also fire soldier!reader, there’s some past history between joker and reader, and there’s mentions of friends to enemies between joker and reader very briefly. this came from a request of a word + character, in this instance the word was degradation + joker. also, I’m super shocked that there isn’t more joker stuff on tumblr? also,the title comes from the robert frost poem: fire and ice. there’s also some allusions to through the fic,
warnings: this is smut, baby. filth. degradation, some mild choking, kissing, biting, teasing with joker’s ignition ability, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it, guys), mentions of a western style waterfall shower head, vague mentions of death, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, some slightly sadistic joker (it is in his personality after all), mentions of exhibitionism/voyeurism, denial play, begging, dry humping, marking, creampie(?), and some body worship.
word count: 5,148 words.
⭑
summary: joker doesn’t account for seeing the wild card he never planned to encounter again after he left the holy sol’s shadow — you, no longer an assassin for the holy sol’s shadow, but a fire soldier standing amongst the ranks and allies of company 8.So, he pays you a visit when you’re alone in your apartment.
⭑
You thought you were past getting caught. Past being snuck up on, and more importantly, past the shock of the way you looked in a fire soldier’s uniform instead of that of the Holy Sol’s Shadow. When you defected eight years ago, it took three years for you to shake of their training, of the way they made you feel worthless — nothing more than a killing machine. No more of that corrupt white that was secretly stained with so much red. But no matter how long you showered, it seemed like you couldn’t scrub all that red off. All that crimson that you could feel, long after you had freshened up in your shower.
For the first time in what seemed like weeks (maybe even months), you were at home, showering. Your apartment wasn’t too far from the cathedral, but after the trip to the Nether, you felt uneasy in what had become your home. It was just five minutes away from Fire Company 8, but the distance didn’t do anything to ease the guilt you felt at having seen Shinra so crippled and broken. He was one of your own, one of the team — and inevitably, the family Obi had built out of Company 8, especially since it wasn’t shackled to anything— not the church, not Haijima Industries, not the Tokyo army, and not even to the Fire Defense Agency. To see him like that made your chest hurt, and reflect on the loss of someone you had tried to forget.
Five-two. His desertion of the Holy Sol’s Shadow was unthought of, but not surprising. You remembered the way the captain treated him, tore him down, and took the only thing he had to remember of his past. You remembered the way the flames tried to eat him and then spit him out as a spear, a weapon to built to destroy, as if that were all he was good for. As if that were all you were good for. And for the longest time, that was all you thought you were good for. But you knew better now. The Holy Sol’s Shadow had taken you when you were young, just four years old, killed your family to ensure you wouldn’t be missed. They only took orphans. They didn’t need anyone to come after you all, looking for a lost child. You were not meant to be missed.
You weren’t like the others though. You felt grievance when you killed an infernal or even a human being that threatened the church. No matter how much you tried, your consciousness ate at you and at the pit of your stomach like a hungry fire, never to be satiated. Finally, you couldn’t take it, there had to be a better way… you wanted to save lives, not take them. You couldn’t take any more of the way the infernals’ fire felt around your hand when striking their cores, and you couldn’t take anymore of the way that you felt when watching the light fade from a human’s eyes. It was too much.
Your fingers work through your hair as you push it into a towel after shutting off the water spilling from the ceiling of your shower stall, shaking water from your ankle. Your bare feet pad on the floor, eyes looking around before pushing your finger against your lip in thought. The hairs on your arms rose with goosebumps, and you froze in place. Your fingers push a towel around your chest, before you swallow, growing tense.
Something was wrong. As you slowly pull open your bathroom door, grabbing what you could use for a weapon (a metal bookend), your eyes land on the open window, letting a gust of air in as well as the smell of food from a few street vendors. Something smells like melting or burning sugar, and fresh fruit. But even closer is the smell of smoke, heavy and oddly sweet too. You step over to the window, but that isn’t the source of the smell of smoke. No, the smell of smoke is coming from your home. You juggle the thought of being caught naked versus changing and being potentially attacked — and you think you rather be caught naked with the upper hand than be clothed and caught off-guard.
You could call out to them, but that’s stupid. It wasn’t like they’d tell you, “I’m an intruder and I’m in your kitchen! Want a sandwich?” You’re quick enough to slide on a black pair of panties, a bra, and the pair of leggings you set out on your bed before soundlessly walking over to the doorway where the smell of smoke strengthens. Walking down the hall with your bookend in hand, you freeze when you see the figure standing in between your dining room and kitchen, picking up a trinket laying on the table. You squint and raise the bookend, before the figure revolves around and the sight of his purple eyes causes you to hesitate.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he remarks, putting out his cigarette in the palm of his hand before closing his hand into a fist, surrendering the cigarette to the ashes he created.
You would know those eyes— well, eye, anywhere. It’s too unique to be mistaken for anyone else. That sneaky smile that promises trouble and danger forms on his lips, but there’s a darkness that lurks in it, and you are all too familiar with it. “Five-two,” you breathe out, and as his name falls from your lips (the only name you knew him as), you think of nights spent whispering in the dark as children, whispering about the mysteries of your world and the truth — how the truth was the only tangible thing to be pursued. And like an idol, oh how you listened to him. How you looked up at him like his word was gospel, like his words were the only thing that mattered. And like a follower, eager to prove your worth, you patched him up after every beating from the captain. But he still has that look in his eyes, the one that put people in categories of predator and prey, and from the way he tilts his head, looking at you… well, he hasn’t decided which one you are yet.
He gestures wordlessly without a finger to put the bookend down before he sighs. “Three-eight, put the bookend down,” he orders when you hesitate, but at the usage of your title, you set it on the counter. “And Five-two isn’t my name. Not anymore.” He corrects in the same breath, and he looks at you with a tilt of his head as if to ask if you even remembered your own name. Of course you did. You whispered it to yourself in your sleep, practiced carving it in wood under your bed on the frame while in the custody of the Shadows. You never felt like three-eight, even though you felt like it more so when you were with Five-two.
You part your lips to ask what is he doing here, or what does he want from you, but he beats you to the punch as he moves closer to you and begins to circle you like a predator. So, you do the same — the two of you doing an untouching waltz, a tango, a dance for two. Between two partners with too much history and too many unanswered questions. “I saw you with Company 8. First it was at the Rookie Games,” he grins, turning a card in between his fingers. You realize it’s his ignition ability, a card made of fire, that dances in between his fingers. “Then I got word you were in the Nether. So, I followed you today. Wanted to see what you were up to — but I was surprised to see you as a Fire Soldier, especially after being a Sha—”
“I was never meant to be a Shadow. That wasn’t my choice. Just like it wasn’t yours,” you sharply remind him, catching the card he throws before compressing it in your hands, smothering the fire before it could even touch your hand. In turn, it’s replaced by the sharp pop that comes from your fingers playing with lightning, dancing across your fingertips, pulsing like a heartbeat. “Now, what do you want?” Your voice is sharp and stern, unyielding and annoyed at having your time wasted as you speak.
“Kusakabe. Where is he — how is he?”
Your eyes narrow in suspension as you clench your jaw. “If you think I’m going to tell you where Shinra is so you can kill him, you’re mistaken, Five-two.”
Before you can realize it or even stop it, your hand playing with lightning is pressed to the wall, and you, yourself is pushed against the wall, his hand on your chest below your neck, his eyes growing dark. “I told you that wasn’t my name anymore.”
“You never told me what else to call you,” you remind him matter-of-factly, before he lets your hand go where it falls back to your side.
“Joker,” he breathes out, looking away from you as he shuffles in place, loosening his grip on you, but only slightly. “Call me Joker, y/n.” And the way his name falls from his lips is so quiet, you almost thought you hallucinated it. Hearing it from his mouth sends a strange feeling into your stomach, both with familiarity and fondness as if he had never left you. It’s almost too much and makes you want to squirm away from him, but instead, you just look into his eye. And all you see is the sixteen year old boy you loved, who left you and who you watched the Shadows destroy to remind him that they could touch everything he cared about. That they could destroy everything he cared about.
And it burns him. He wonders if you two could have survived had he brought you with him, instead of leaving you in the hands of the Shadows. He wonders if you would have even left with him. But seeing you, here, with the orange jumpsuit of the Fire Force laying on the chair of yours closest to the front door of your apartment, part of him thinks you would have. He regrets leaving you there, but his decision to leave had been an impulsive one, unplanned. And it had gone all downhill after he had left. You were out of the Shadows’ reach, for now, that much he knew, and he could see. He doesn’t mean to touch you softly on your face, and you don’t mean to lean into his palm, but you do, and that’s a language all of it’s own. He had done it in you all’s youth to promise he was always there, to remind you he would never leave you — that if you didn’t have any comfort, you had him.
You want to swat his hand away because you knew that was untrue, he had left you alone to fend for yourself for four years after he had left; he had left you alone to ruin. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him for it, and you couldn’t bring yourself to curse his name or pull away — because even though he was on the outside, he had gone through hell of his own. You remember the way the Shadows came back after killing the family that had taken him in. The Shadows had corrupted him, burned him, scorned him, and left him to the harshness of the world to suffer. You could see it in his eye, and you could see the way he longed to ask you for more as his lips give a wobble when he hesitates to ask the question that’s on his mind. He doesn’t want to speak for the fear of bringing everything down with you, but in place of words, tension grows, especially when he grows closer to you, and lets his hat drop to the floor at your feet.
“You left me,” you mumble, and his eyes meet yours again, with sadness before he shakes his head.
“I know.” He makes a tsk noise with his tongue before he clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
He opens his mouth to ask what you mean, but instead, you pull his face forward with your hands, and your lips press to his. The kiss is hot, hungry, demanding; and somehow forgiving, as if being a representation of a trial by fire. It floods you with heat — or maybe that’s your ignition ability dancing around in your body, humming and begging to be released. Or thanking you for being fed, being reunited with the fire it learned how to dance with first. Joker feels it too, his hands moving to hold your hips and root you in place against him. A low growl rumbles in his chest as if to demand more, and he can taste both the sweet mint of your toothpaste and the underlying metallic feeling from your ignition ability. Likewise, you can taste the smoke from his mouth, and you practically inhale it into your lungs, begging it to consume you. Begging him to consume you.
His cautious touches aren’t enough, and you tug on the front of his waistcoat to pull him closer as he reinforces your place against the wall, pulling away for air, and to see the haze in your eyes. They were right to say fire was desire, or in desire laid fire — the sentiment was the same regardless of how you read it. His thumb reaches up to brush over your cheek, his thumb following the line of your jaw down to your lips, which practically beg him to kiss them again. So he does — but this time, he tugs on your lips with his teeth, growling more as your fingers curl into the hair behind his ears. His tongue parts in between your lips, and dances with yours, working it to submission with ease before he pulls away to leave you gasping for air.
“I thought Fire Soldiers didn’t play with devils. I thought it was too sacrilegious,” he breathes out coolly, eyeing your flustered face.
“Good thing I’m not religious, and if the sentiment bothers me, I guess I’ll ask our sister to pray for my forgiveness.” You reply, needy for more as you claw at his waistcoat. “Now finish what you started.”
“Oh, I will. I just needed your permission.”
“Permission granted.”
Joker chuckles as he moves to kiss the side of your neck at the exposed skin, humming as he lets his fingers trace the muscles of your back. “Is this what you meant by you didn’t want an apology?”
“Actions speak… louder… hgn,” You groan as he sucks on the delicate skin on your neck, his fingers tracing the skin around your waist. “than words.”
He hums some kind of acknowledgement of the sentiment before you feel grabbing your hands and pulling you down the hall to your bedroom (and his point of entry), before he shuts the door with the heel of his shoe. He pushes you onto your bed where you fall back and lay, your chest rising and falling with dark, curious eyes, longing for more. When he looks at you, he sees the love you promised to give him, that you willingly gave him as a child, and that was what made him hold onto the Shadows so long. It was you, and your love that acted like a form of righteousness so much so that it was holy. He may have stopped believing in Sol, but he believed in you, and now he was believing in you again. He was believing in you like your love was religion, and he needed to beg for forgiveness. He could do that later, but he knew he was on a time limit as you’d soon go back to Company 8 and you would belong to the Fire Force again.
His fingers unbutton his waistcoat, pulling his scarf off but leaving the bandana over his eye, as if you hadn’t seen the wound a hundred times before. As if you hadn’t dreamed of it, when you dreamed of him and thought of a better life for you and him — although those were the dreams of a child. Dreams in stereo, that played on repeat. He thinks of the last time he had touched another human, that wasn’t with murderous intent, or in a fight — something about the tension making his blood raise, in the same way it was pulsing in his ears right now, but it was all for you.
And he needed more of it. There’s a hum coming from him as his hands dance with fire on his fingertips, but you can’t feel it — it doesn’t burn, it’s more of a tickle as it licks at you, greeting you back into its grasp. His fire is home — remembering you and the way you reached out to touch all 52 cards of his when you were young, and in the same way, how he would watch how the lightning you made danced to the changing beats of your heart, pulsing and whispering I love you when you could never say the words where others would hear. But he knew, and you knew, as you all had come up with your own language filled with gestures and touches only meant for the two of you to see. His shoes tumble against the floor as he kicks them aside, making his way over to you and his gaze is hungry now.
You lay back and watch as he pulls the buttons loose on his shirt before pulling it off and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. You can see the silvery scars on his body in various places and as he leans down to kiss you, your fingers trace them, apologetic as the ambiance from the open window fills your bedroom. He looks as the daylight goes over your skin, turning you into something even more beautiful. His ear goes over your chest as he hears your heartbeat, breathing fire and circulating it through your body.
Time is not your friend, and you know it as you rest a hand on his cheek. “If we’re going to do this, you need to hurry. I’ve got to get back to—”
“I know,” He exhales as he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He’d be poetic later, at a more appropriate time. So, he kisses you again with the same fervent way he kissed you before, this time, his hands palming over your breasts, little mewls leaving your lips as he slides his hands under your bra, plucks at your nipples, feeling them harden under his fingers. He can feel you squirm under him while you feel that fire build in your belly, spreading through you. He’s on a power trip, a power high, and you’re simply reinforcing it.
You need more, need him to stroke it more and make it grow, and he plans on doing exactly that. His hips are rolling into yours through your clothes, your legs over on his thighs as he kneels in between your legs. As he kisses you, you’re hellbent on letting it consume you, and you’re just as desperate, rutting against him as he he pulls away, whispering against your lips. “You need it so bad, huh?” He grins as you whimper, desperate for touch. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been this intimate with anyone, and he’s working you like a harp, with delicate plucks and strokes, playing you to his own accord. You whine, as his hands tug your leggings down your legs and toss them to the floor, and he can see the growing wet spot on your panties, a smirk on his lips. “You don’t have to tell me,” he adds. “Your body tells me enough, little princess. Or do you prefer to be called my little slut, my wild card?”
You whine at the nickname, processing him pushing your bra up to expose your nipples to him before he’s pulling the right one into his lips and sucking ruthlessly, his tongue lapping at it, only to restart the cycle. He does show some mercy by putting his knee in between your legs, letting you grind down on it, much to his amusement. His lips let go of your nipple as he chuckles darkly, his purple eye blazing with mischief and excitement. “Ah yeah! There’s my dirty baby,” he grins, “Yeah, so desperate. So needy, didn’t want anyone else to touch her. Only I can touch her,” he remarks and you repeat his words.
“Only you!”
His knee isn’t enough, but it’ll get you off for now, while you change the angle of your core coming down on his knee, changing your pace to get more friction that causes gasps to leave your lips. You’re so close, so close at the way you rock your hips, getting friction across your clit just like you need, your wetness soaking into his pants. His lips are kissing a trail down your chest and stomach, above your navel, and as he reaches the top of your core, he kisses it through the fabric, before pulling his knee away.
“I hope my baby didn’t think I’d just let her cum from my knee,” he chuckles, his thumb dragging your bottom lip down as you suckle on his thumb before he pulls it away. “Now don’t move,” he warns, and all you see is a flash of a card — the Queen of Hearts — before it cuts through your panties, and he pulls them from your body, tossing the remains to the floor. He brings the card to his lips as he blows it out, and then tilts his head to look at your expression. Your eyes slowly open to look at him as you try to catch your breath and his thumb brushes over your pulsing clit, having felt the way your cunt pulsed for him on his knee. “Such a needy little thing, and all this over me?” He teases, parting your thighs more with his hands before he goes eyelevel with your cunt, blowing his breath out and watches you shudder. His lips suck and his tongue licks at your throbbing bud, humming at your taste.
You whine and croon at the attention, your hips bucking and he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you down as he lets his tongue glide up and down your cunt. “Such a sweet little cunt on my pretty little baby,” he hums before he sucks on your outer lips, then lets his tongue go back to flick your clit before he decides to add one finger, slowly pushing into you, letting his finger thrust in and out before he adds another, curling his fingers in a come-hither motion before returning his attention to sucking on your clit, and letting his thumb circle the bundle of nerves.
You moan his name, hips arching again, and you’re close to unraveling underneath him as you babble, “I’m—”
“Go ahead,” he murmurs in between your legs. “Come for me, baby. I want to drink you up.” He gives a nip and a bite at the inside of your thigh before his tongue becomes merciless with determination to let you cum, his tongue spelling out his name over your throbbing nerves, and when you finally fall apart with a sweet moan of his name, he smirks against you before licking up your release. He pulls away once he’s gotten his fill, his chin coated in your release, and grins at you. He pulls his fingers out of you, and they’re coated in your juices, but he’ll get to those.
“Did you want a taste, dirty girl?” He asked, and when you beckon, he leans down and kisses you, getting your release on on your chin that he wipes away with his thumb before licking his fingers clean. With one orgasm for you, he can concentrate on the bulge in his pants, aching and throbbing — begging for release as he unbuttons his pants and takes them off. You can see the outline of his hard cock in his boxers, and you reach to palm it before he smacks your hand. “No,” he scolds, before chuckles. “Let me do this, dirty girl. Or are you too out of it to understand?” He chuckles as he looks into your eyes.
“Need you, please,” You beg, and he stands up to slowly slide his boxers off before pressing his finger to his lip.
“You’ve got to be a good girl. You don’t want those people on the street to hear you getting fucked like a needy little brat. But, make sure I hear how good I make you feel with my cock in that pretty little cunt. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” you nod, and you watch as his boxers free his cock which slaps against his abdomen, already leaking with pre from the tip, and he takes his hand, stroking his cock and pushing the pre-cum around it. Your eyes look at it, and look at him, all together — standing before him in the nude, holding his cock.
“Good little whore,” Joker sighs as he kisses the inside of your thigh before biting down on the skin and leaving a matching mark to the previous one. “And another rule. You don’t cum until I let you.”
You process his words, but your head is already thinking, spinning and reeling at how you’re going to try and not cum just by him putting it in. You need it, you need him, your hole clenching around nothing as he hovers over you, pulling your legs over his shoulder. He lets his tip drag through your cunt, coating it in your sweet juices. Then, he lets it slap over your cunt, patting it as you whimper and groan and he chuckles.
“Here we go, needy slut,” he hums as he kisses your neck before pushing the tip in. You bit into your lip as you can feel him slowly splitting you open, but it feels so good you can’t think — your walls already pulsing around him, trying to hungrily suck him in faster than he’s willing to give. “Look at me,” he demands, and your eyes part to see him sinking into you, more and more, your groans getting louder before he bottoms into you all at once.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Such a tight little cunt, and I can’t wait to fill you up with my cum. Gonna be so good.”
“Please,” you beg, even though you’re not exactly sure what you’re begging for.
But it’s like Joker knows, and he’s willing to oblige. He begins to slowly thrust into you, with full thrusts to fill you each time. And the way you croon and mewl and wrap your arms around him encourages him to speed up, although it’s taking a lot of his control for him not to fuck you into next week. He does push your legs back into a mating press, his face hovering over yours as he looks into your eyes, watching your face scrunch up into an expression of sheer bliss.
“Yeah, feels good when I fuck your pretty little cunt? Your tight little cunt? Is this mine? Tell me, little slut.”
“Yeah, yeah, nghh,” you pant, your nails digging into his shoulders as he works up to a quicker pace, and presses his hand right over your lower stomach, which makes a cry of pleasure leave you. You can feel that fire in your belly return, especially as he strokes that spot in the midst of your gummy walls which suck him in, and he loves it — the way your cunt clings to him like a vice, refusing to let him go. He can feel the way you tighten, and he knows you’re getting closer.
“God, you take my cock so well, but I can’t hear you, baby,” Joker reminds you as he taps your cheek, stopping only to your dismay, causing you to whine. “I told you I’d stop if you I couldn’t hear you. So, now you’ve got to beg for me to let you cum. So, beg.” His eye is dark and his gaze is vicious. There’s no way he was letting you off easy, not with that look in his eye.
“Please, please, Joker, let me cum,” You start. “I want to come around your cock, I want to, please, please, please.” Your pleading sounds like a broken record as you repeat words over and over again, so he starts back with slow thrusts again before his other hand wraps around your neck, leaving you gasping for air.
“Want to see my pretty little slut cream all over my cock so I can cum in you, fuck my cum into you and watch it leak out,” he groans, closing his eyes as his pace becomes more erratic. His hand that’s on your lower stomach begins to rub at your clit, specifically his thumb going in circles, as his thrusts continue to hit that sweet spot inside of you, and you shudder around him, pulsing and massaging his cock before you unravel with a loud cry of his name — open window be damned. His eyes open, although half-lidded, and watch you come around his cock, your release coating his cock, and he grins, humping you through your orgasm as you begin to whine as he prolongs it and overstimulates you.
He doesn’t care, chasing his own high, and you clench around him, and with a few more thrusts, he’s cumming inside of you, groaning as he can see the mix of your cum around his cock. He pants to catch his breath, and then slowly pulls out, watching as his cum seeps out of you, leaking onto your bed before he then lets his thumb trace your jaw.
“You did so good, y/n.” He smiles as he kisses your forehead. “My wild card.” He murmurs, pulling away to put his clothes back on. “I’ll see you around, Fire Soldier.”
Before you can say anything else, he’s clothed and gone, and you’re left half-dressed on your bed, his cum still leaking from you and unspoken words on your lips. But he had to leave, or else he’d forget his mission, and he’d stay, even though he couldn’t offer you anything.
And that felt like ice in his veins, but even he knew ice could consume you just as good as fire. However, he knew desire and his pursuit of the truth would ruin him. He wouldn’t bring you into that too.
#fire force smut#fire force imagines#fire force fanfiction#fire force hcs#joker x reader#five-two x reader#enn enn no shouboutai#joker fire force#fire force x reader#joker/52
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SUN-KISSED Pt. 2
Part 1 | Part 2
Read on AO3
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader
Wordcount: 2894
Warnings: alcohol
Summary: An argument with your boyfriend Steve Rogers is the perfect incentive to go out drinking with Natasha.
It's sunset again, Natasha notices, but she pushes the thought down as your fingers tangle with hers. You tug on her arm and she follows you silently, pathetically at your whim at all times, even when she knows she should tell you it's a bad idea. Because it is. She doesn't trust herself sober around you, and she's scared of what a few drinks will do.
But you're adamant, your mascara smudged under your eyes from crying earlier. She hates it, she hates Steve for making you feel so bad about yourself, about your work. You're fucking amazing, and though she respects the old man, she's not going to let him do this to you. He can stick his second world war virtues up his ass.
Despite the considerable force you're pulling her along with, she stops you, spins you around, curls an arm around your waist tightly to hold you close. She can't help but smirk as your eyes widen.
She probably enjoys this too much. But it was you who called her.
You watch with confusion as Natasha licks her thumb and swipes it across your cheeks gently, wiping away the last telltale signs of your argument with Steve. Your eyes shine more brightly than they usually do, but otherwise you look perfect again, even with your tousled hair and carelessly thrown on leather jacket.
"There."
"It was the mascara, right? I forgot about that," you say with a sheepish smile that soon drops, the feeling of your cheeks heating up deepening your embarrassment. It's the proximity of another human being, or the two shots of tequila you had back at the Avengers Tower, or the fact that at least she genuinely seems to give a shit about you. At any rate, it feels soothing after all the jarring words you and Steve threw around earlier. You need a girls' night out, you need to be told not to overthink things, to let loose.
And the moment you stormed out of Steve's room, you knew who you had to turn to. You knew it was only Natasha you wanted around and no one else.
She didn't protest. In fact, she dropped her plans at a moment's notice to go out with you. She promised to take you to a dive bar, one she knows like the back of her hand that has good drinks and even better prices. It's close to her place, and you will crash there afterwards. She said will, not can. She's not letting you go back to Steve in the state you are in, the state he's put you in.
And you are perfectly alright with that plan.
The Coyote is a small but handsome place, with soft blues rock whining in the background, furnished with tables and bar stools from a bygone era. There's a pool table in the back, a woman in her fifties tending the bar with a frown as one of the patrons knocks his drink over. You stand in awe for a minute as the bartender - who also happens to be the owner of this particular dive - berates the man in front of her for spilling his beer. "You think I want to clean up after you all night, Larry?" she throws him a disdainful look before muttering under her breath as she fetches a rag to mop up the beer that bleeds down the wooden surface just like your mascara ran down your cheeks not so long ago. "Fucking lightweight."
"Well, what do you think?" Natasha smiles, pleased to see enthusiasm stealing behind your eyes.
"I love it. It's so..."
"Vintage?" she helps. She knows you love old things in the most adorable way. You love everything that is vintage, everything that takes you back to times you never lived in - buildings, furniture, streets, monuments, museums... People. Old people too, she reminds herself bitterly.
"Yeah," you smile.
She matches your smile, knowing eyes drinking in your improving mood greedily. "Wait til you've tried their drinks. Holly prides herself on only keeping the best of the best."
The night is a lot slower and more mellow than what you expected. You wanted wild, you wanted to force the thoughts out of your mind, you wanted to be exhausted, maybe even blackout and start over fresh tomorrow. But you're just tipsy, the alcohol filling your body with a gentle buzz that's not at all unpleasant. You and Nat have paced yourselves, and you talk, and fill the booth you took for just the two of you with genuine laughter and ease. She matches your teasing tone when you joke, indulges you when you steer the conversation to deeper waters. However, you've been tiptoeing around Steve, and the argument, but Natasha unravels you, and she listens to what you have to say, and it's fucking difficult to admit, but she seems to understand you more than Steve ever did - so you cave in when she puts a hand on your forearm. It feels right, too right, but her question distracts you.
"So... Should we address the elephant in the room or is this the point where we pick up the pace a little?"
Your shoulders sag when you realise you don't really want to get drunk. You don't want wild. Or reckless. Lights out, with the bittersweet relief of not remembering a god damn thing about tonight. You just want this moment, even if it is difficult to open up to her. "I don't know what to say."
"I do," she quips. "Steve's a moron."
You laugh, despite everything, and it makes her tighten her grip on your arm encouragingly for a second. "He's not a moron. But he did act rather moronic today."
"I think you did well on the mission," Nat declares, leaning back and lifting her glass of beer to her lips.
"I was reckless."
"Those are his words, not yours."
"Yeah... The thing is, I don't feel guilty about what I've done at all. I calculated the risks, and I trusted my abilities to see me through the job. Mission accomplished - even if my tactics were questionable from a strictly military perspective."
Nat nods, and a silence settles over the two of you as she draws patterns on the cold wet glass in her hands. It's comfortable, and her wordless agreement wraps around you like a warm blanket. Your gaze meets the attentive green emeralds of her eyes, and you swallow thickly. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's your loneliness, but she looks so fucking beautiful in the dim light of the bar, green military style jacket slipping down on one shoulder to reveal her black tank top. You shouldn't, you shouldn't, and you can't help it, and she frowns softly, trying to read your thoughts. And you worry, you worry she can read you easily, you worry she can open you up and trace the lines of your attraction to her with her fingertips.
Because that's what this is, you realise. Attraction. No matter how fucked up it is, no matter how angry it makes you at yourself. Steve's back at the Avengers Tower dissecting the argument in his head while worrying about where you've slipped off to. But you know he doesn't approve, not even his guilt can make him see that you shouldn't have to justify your every move on missions. You're far from helpless, and yet he treats you like a damsel in distress. Like you're less than him in a way, just because you weren't injected with the super soldier serum.
You want to be treated as an equal. In the team, in your relationships, during your missions. You want to be seen for who you are - a capable person, an effective agent, a force to be reckoned with, a mind that can easily keep up with the rest of the Avengers. Alas none of them really see you that way, and Steve is no exception.
But Natasha is.
The cab ride is quiet, you two sit in the back, eyes somehow glued to each other, Steve forced to the back of your mind as an unpleasant thought by what you feel for Nat in this very moment. You wonder if this feeling has always been in you, hidden, denied, labelled impossible and maybe even shameful. She reaches across and gently places her hand in yours.
And for whatever reason, you don't pull it back.
You've never seen her flat before, but it's everything you've expected. Laid back yet angular, stylish yet chaotic, inviting yet intimidating. It's an effervescent mixture, just like she is, and she pulls you inside without a second thought, exposing her hideout as if you came here every other day, as if letting you in her most private corner of the world was absolutely normal.
The thought of it makes your insides burn with a feeling you know you shouldn't allow to even exist.
It's late, but you're both hungry, and you make sandwiches in the small kitchen while joking and keeping the conversation light, amicably bumping your shoulders together. It hurts, for the both of you, to see the what ifs, the what could bes, the life you can't have but suddenly seem to crave. She accidentally smudges some pesto on her finger and licks it off. You lose your mind. You eat. Hunched over the tiny kitchen table, you feel yourself sober up completely. You're exhausted, but you don't want this night to end. Neither of you have done or said anything inappropriate, nothing has happened here for which you should apologise to Steve on the next day. And yet it's the most comfortable and loved you've felt in a long time.
You feel self-conscious when you wipe your makeup off in the quiet seclusion of her bathroom, a pair of her sweatpants and an old band t-shirt waiting for you, neatly folded, on top of the laundry basket. You expose the dark circles underneath your eyes, along with all the imperfections of your skin, and your lower lips trembles at the thought of having to bare yourself in front of her. Your body is shapeless after you've changed into your makeshift pyjamas (you try not to think too hard on wearing her clothes). Your hair, released from the tight updo you've forced it into is messy and loose now. To be fair, it was messy before too, but it's not really helping your confidence right now. You will have to leave eventually, and face her, and you're terrified of not seeing the same light and warmth in her eyes when she looks at you, the same smile she always wears on her lips whenever you're around.
She smiles even wider than usual when you emerge. The simple explanation would be that you're beautiful - it's the truth, without any embellishments whatsoever. The more complicated one she doesn't allow herself to dwell on, so she nods towards the bedroom and you follow her, even if a little forlorn.
"I don't often get guests," she smiles, sitting in the edge of the bed. The room smells of clean sheets and her perfume. "And even when I do, it's Clint, and I'm making him sleep on the sofa. But I'm willing to make an exception for you."
"Oh, you shouldn't," you protest as she stands. "The sofa is perfectly fine for me."
"It's alright, I don't mind-"
"Please-"
"It's no fuss-"
"This bed is big enough for the two of us anyways."
A small, awkward silence settles on you as you stare back at one another. If Natasha feels as bewildered as you do, she hides it well. Her head lolls to one side in thought, eyes assessing you. She seems content with whatever she's found in your gaze as she shrugs and sinks back down on the bed.
"Don't even think about hogging my blanket."
You regain your composure and grin, unable to feel uncomfortable around her any longer. You plop down on your belly unceremoniously and starfish on the mattress, and you can almost see her roll her eyes at you even through your closed eyes. You sigh as the firm mattress rises to meet your tired bones. "Ooh, I'm never leaving this bed."
"Move," Natasha nudges you, and you oblige her as you roll on your back. She lays next to you, and you stare up at the ceiling, glow in the dark stars blinking back at you in the dim light.
"I used to have those on my bedroom ceiling as a kid," you smile fondly.
"I didn't exactly have a conventional childhood. Figured I had some ground to cover on that front," she murmurs softly, lost for a moment in her memories. Your quiet laugh draws her back to the present and she's so very grateful for that. So very grateful for you.
"Well then, this is a good addition too, our little sleepover."
"Oh, yeah?" she grins, rolling on her side as she props her head up on a hand. "What do you want to do then to make it memorable? Gush about our crushes? Have a pillow fight? Play spin the bottle? Truth or dare? Get drunk? I have a bottle of wine, we could do that."
Your eyes land on her soft lips and you imagine daring her to kiss you. You imagine what it would be like to draw her in, to give in to the feelings inside you, to deepen the kiss, blame it on being drunk, trail your lips down the length of her neck...
But you could never do that to Steve.
"I think I've had enough excitement for tonight."
"Suit yourself, love."
Does she look disappointed? You don't have enough time to ponder as she nods and pulls back the covers to wrap them around the both of you. She then reaches to switch the lamp off on the bedside table and settles down beside you. You're still facing each other, and in the darkness you can see the outlines of her smile when your eyes adjust. She puts a hand on your shoulder, gives it a little squeeze. She's upset, she really is, she was so close to reeling you in, trapping you, telling you all she's been wanting to say for months now. But she's proud of you. For being loyal, for not breaking the trust Steve put in you even though you could do it without consequences. She'd never tell on you. But somehow, your silent refusal has made you even a better person in her eyes than if you would have given in to the kiss you've both obviously wanted.
But this all must be very confusing for you. Your week was an emotional rollercoaster, and she just wants you to be okay. "Wake me if you need anything."
You nod, and satisfied, Natasha turns to her other side. It's difficult, being so torn, wanting love but not knowing where you're supposed to get it. Overwhelmed by everything, you seem to spiral into mild panic. You don't know this place, and Steve is a stubborn asshole, and you just want to feel safe and sheltered for a single night, is that too much to ask for?
You scoot closer to Natasha, letting her feel your warmth first before you tentatively snuggle up to her from behind. She lets you, deathly still as if any movement on her part would scare you away. You slide your hand on her waist, afraid to go too far.
She takes it and wraps it around her midsection.
You don't talk about it in the morning. The sun shines brightly as you sit together in the kitchen. Coffee. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Slipping slices of tangerine to one another. A long hug before you leave.
And somehow you both feel a little less when you're apart.
You have much to think on, you both do. You don't avoid Steve when you get back. You go straight to him and you ask him for a break. He deals with his heartbreak as he soldiers though every hardship in his life - lips pressed together, emotions repressed, stiff nod straining his neck, regret shining in his blue eyes. But you need this. You need this, because he deserves better than to be lied to. Than to be led on. So does she.
Weeks pass. Missions come and go, all successful. You work together professionally, there's nothing forced. Tony remarks on the sudden drop of temperature in the room during a mission briefing where you and Steve sit in opposite ends of the room, but Natasha steps in and whacks him on the back of the head with the file in her hand and that's that.
You go to the top floor of the tower one evening, the staggering height's isolation comforting you now more than scaring you. You sit there for a while, watching the sunset, when you remember Italy, 3 months ago, stopping to marvel at the sunset, Natasha by your side.
And then you know. You just do. You need more time to accept it, of course. Probably even more time to act on it. But in the meantime, you can't stop thinking about her feeding tangerine to you in the morning, fingers brushing against yours as she passes the slices to you.
Tag list: @fayhar
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#black widow x reader#black widow x you#natasha romanoff fanfiction#marvel mcu#mcu fanfiction#natasha romanoff#black widow
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OC Introduction: Miles Cooper
Universe: Marvel
Name: Miles Cooper
Alias/Nicknames: Crow, Captain, Coop, CC (Captain Cooper), Snake Eyes (by Alex, another super-soldier in his team)
Gender: Male (he/him🏳️⚧️)
Age: 26 (as of F&TWS)
Birthday: June 1, 1990
Zodiac: Gemini
Sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other
Abilities/Talents: acting, playing various instruments (violin, guitar, piano), singing, sniping/long-range combat, charisma.
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Religion: Atheist
Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath
Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience
Build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy
Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other
Eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other
Skin: pale / fair / olive / tan / brown / dark / other
Height: 5’11”
Scars: scars below his chest from top surgery (which he refused to have healed fully); inky black burn scars that spread from his hands up his veins and around his body, almost looking painted on.
Features: His hair is often dyed different colors, but naturally it is dirty blonde and cropped short. He has MANY tattoos- a total of 11. The most notable ones include a black and white Medusa portrait on his right thigh, two thick black armbands on his right upper arm, and on his left shoulder blade, a portrait of a woman with her ribcage visible and forget-me-not flowers wrapped hanahaki-style around the ribs and coming out of her mouth. He also regularly paints his nails, although he keeps them short.
Family: He was an only child to two parents. His father, being an officer in the military, spent long periods of time outside of the house. He was strict, aggressive, and hit the trifecta of abuse types for he and his mother. His mother might be one of the kindest people Miles had the luck to know and be with. However, by the time he was in high school, she grew chronically ill and was bedridden often.
Friends: The other members of the Corps (his team of super-soldiers) are his closest friends. He eventually finds himself close with Natasha, Steve, Bucky, Bruce, and Sam as well. He would consider Thor a friend, but has a love-hate relationship with Loki that complicates this.
Relationship Status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated
Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent
dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future
Five Songs That Remind Me of Him:
1. Zombies (Childish Gambino)
2. Father (The Front Bottoms)
3. Mama (My Chemical Romance)
4. A Pearl (Mitski)
5. The Other Side of Paradise (Glass Animals)
#working on his bio has taken forever so decided to post this instead lol#hope y’all like him yes he’s a super-soldier oc yes i did that so he could interact w any characters I want him to#oc: miles cooper#my post#marvel oc#marvel original character
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💖 coming soon 💖
updated 28th june
💗 when daddy’s not around - dadsbestfriend!bucky
a cockroach infestation in y/n’s apartment block forces her and her parents to stay with her dad’s best friend— the wealthy bachelor james barnes. And when her parents are out of town for the weekend, the sexual tension that has been brewing between the pair finally boils over. warnings: age gap relationship (reader is 18), heavy sexual tension, explicit sexual content, bucky being a little tease, bucky being a slut, bucky in just a towel, female masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), multiple orgasms, definite size kink, cream pie, 18+.
💗 written for @sweeterthanthis’s “quote me on it” challenge
~ coming 30th june (this fic is already available on patreon) ~
💗 american beauty / american psycho - soldier boy/nomad!steve
y/n wakes up to what should be every woman’s fantasy— sandwiched between the heroes of america as their own personal fuck toy. but the super soldiers aren’t playing very fair. warnings: soldier boy/captain america’s love/hate relationship, explicit sexual content, dub-con, double penetration, anal play, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, mentions of oral sex (female and male receiving), deep throating, little slapping, degradation, threats of cream pies to every orifice, 18+.
~ coming 7th july (this fic is already available on patreon) ~
💗 forget me not - dean winchester
sharing a birthday with sam winchester, stacey knows that dean’s loyalties will be conflicted. their first year together, he was away on a hunt— but this year, there’s no excuse… right? warnings: a little angst, dean being a bad boyfriend (allegedly), fluff.
💗 written for @princessmisery666 x
~ coming 14th july (this will be available on patreon 30th june) ~
💗 the shadow at my window - dark!steve rogers
y/n is forever losing things, and when she misplaces her purse one day, it’s down to steve to return it to her. warnings: non-con, dub-con, explicit sexual content, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), forced entry, 18+.
💗 written for @syntheticavenger’s “how it started/how it’s going” challenge
~ coming 23rd july (this will be available on patreon 7th july) ~
💗 10 things i hate about you - andy barber
requested by anon: andy and y/n are opposing counsel in a big criminal case. y/n is as good as andy, they have been rivals for years, and she wins the case for her client. y/n gloats to andy then dub-con/ hate sex ensues because andy is pissed and tired of her. warnings: dub-con, hate sex, face slapping, explicit sexual content, degradation, sex in a public bathroom, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), mirror sex, rough sex, threats of deep throating, 18+.
~ coming 28th july (this will be available on patreon 14th july) ~
💗 tell me a lie - catfish!ransom
when ransom intercepts his uncle’s email, one from an unsuspecting fan and novice author— desperate for her novel to be published— catches his attention. pretending to be walt, he befriends the girl and invites her out to “meet” walt and harlan in the hopes of getting a book deal. it’s all a game to ransom at first, but the more he talks to her, the more nefarious his intentions become. warnings: catfishing, meeting strangers from the internet (please always take someone with you and meet in a public place), slightly naive!reader, explicit sexual content, non-con, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, slight stockholm syndrome, manipulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), 18+.
~ coming 4th august (this will be available on patreon 21st july) ~
💗 use me - steve rogers
steve wants y/n to use him in her favourite way. warnings: explicit sexual content, use of a vibrator, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), reverse cowgirl, 18+.
~ coming 11th august (this will be available on patreon 28th july) ~
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OKAY PEOPLE. THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ANYTHING LIKE THIS. PLEASE DIG IN AND TELL ME IF YOU LIKE IT 🥺🥺
WITH NO FURTHER ADO I PRESENT TO YOU:
A teeny little fic of Steve Rogers x reader at the park 🥰 (flirtation/fluff, no other warnings):
You enjoy the feeling of the sun on your body as you lean back on your elbows to admire Duckling Pond. It's early autumn, still deliciously warm.
Beside you, on the picnic blanket, his hair like a bright-gold halo in the afternoon light, Steve is reading one of the comics you bought him from that thrift-shop downtown.
You beam up at him. You love watching Steve read - he's funny when he frowns in concentration like this.
His dark lashes flutter as he becomes aware of your gaze; he turns to grin down at you.
"What?"
You throw him a cheeky smile. "Nothing. Just admiring the view."
He looks out at the pond. "Oh, yeah. Nice, isn't it?"
Your smile grows wider and you plant a meaningful hand on his thigh. "Not THAT view, silly."
In an effort to conceal his pleasure at your words, Steve rolls his eyes and stands up. He reaches out his hand invitingly, and, of course, you take it without hesitation.
"Let's go look at the ducks, Y/N. I don't need you getting any ideas this early in the afternoon."
"Ideas?" You clutch your free hand to your heart, feigning innocence. "Me?"
Steve fixes you with a knowing look as the two of you trot down the incline that leads to the water.
"Yes, YOU," he says, and from the glimmer in his eyes, you know he's thinking of the time last week when you tried to show your affection for him by sitting on his lap in a restaurant.
Had you made him blush? Yes. Had you also horrified him by spilling ketchup down the front of his clean white shirt? Well...yes. You chuckle to yourself as you remember how awkward he'd become. Steve was never much for PDA.
Soon, the pair of you reach the edge of the pond.
"Aren't there supposed to be ducklings around here?" Steve asks, his gaze combing the vacant surface of the water.
"Why?" you laugh. "Because it's called Duckling Pond?"
He looks down at you, half-serious, half-mischievous, and nods. "Yes," he says, "that's exactly why."
"Hmmm." You take on the air of a professor that's just been asked a very trying question. "Hmmm. Maybe because it isn't spring, the time when ducklings are usually born?"
"Or maybe," says Steve, eyes narrowing in mock-concentration, "just maybe...you've scared them away."
You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. You can't help but smile when he tries so hard to tease you. Steve catches your expression and grins.
"I have an idea," you announce suddenly, tearing your eyes away from his beautiful blue ones - you're scared you'll get lost in them and try to climb on him again. "Let's go hunting for ducklings. I mean, ducks. We'll only find the parents at this time of year."
He raises an eyebrow. "And how exactly are we going to hunt them?"
Immediately, you take a crust of bread out of your pocket, left over from a picnic sandwich.
You smile wickedly. "We lure them in."
"Mm." Steve nods slowly. "Using bait. That's a smart strategy."
You flash your teeth at him sweetly. "I plan my missions carefully - I learned all about strategy from the best."
"Oh yeah?" says Steve, snatching the crust from your hand and hurling it into the water. "Who's 'the best'?"
You strike a pose and say in a deep announcer's voice: "The one and only Super Soldier, Steve Rogers."
Steve laughs. "Sounds like a swell guy."
"Sometimes," you admit.
"Only sometimes?" He's leaning over you now, his brows knit in a soft frown.
"Yeah," you blurt out, feeling your stomach flutter at the close proximity. "Sometimes he's mean. He doesn't like it when I touch his leg in public."
Steve lets go of your hand and slips his arm around your waist, tucking your body snugly up against his ribs. "I don't blame him. Sounds like he's got a troublemaker on his hands."
"He does NOT," you say with conviction.
Suddenly, the crust of bread disappears under the water in a flurry of bubbles.
"Was that a fish?"
Steve's lips curl into a gentle smile. "It was a duck," he says, his thumb rubbing your shoulder. "I just remembered: the duck army has an underwater base now."
You snort out a laugh. Then you lean your head against his enormous upper arm.
"We should come back here in the spring," you murmur, "so we can actually see the ducks and their ducklings."
Steve places his head softly against yours. "Sure, doll," he whispers back.
Next thing you know, your body is engulfed in his arms, your fingers are entwined with his own, and a kiss is being pressed against your cheek.
You blink bashfully as the kiss fades away and as the embrace continues - as it grows cozier - as Steve's hands wander across your back and waist - as your heart pounds inside your chest.
"Steve," you mutter huskily against his leather jacket, "you're not getting any...ideas...are you?"
"Oh," he whispers into your hair, "maybe a few."
You close your eyes and savour the moment until, at last, Steve lets go, and the chilly autumn air is biting at you once again.
Alright, alright. Maybe he isn't THAT bad at the whole PDA thing.
"You look cold," Steve observes as the pair of you begin your trek back to the picnic blanket. "Maybe we should go home."
"Yeah, maybe we should," you tease, "but not because I'm cold."
Steve gives you a curious frown. Then, all at once, he smiles. "You're not thinking about snuggling with him, are you? With the 'one and only Super Soldier, Steve Rogers'?"
"I would never!" you protest.
From the way he's eyeing you as you pack up the picnic lunch, and from his deliberate grin as he slowly folds the red-checked blanket, you know that Steve doesn't believe you.
Not one bit.
#marvel#wholesome#fluff#steve rogers#captain america#steve rogers x reader#captain america x reader#fanfic
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HEAVY WITHOUT YOU
SUMMARY — death is heavy on your mind this christmas season, but it’s even heavier on peters.
WORD COUNT — 1.8k
WARNING(S) — major character death, angst, depressive themes, loss, fluff
AUTHORS NOTE — twenty five days of christmas, day nineteen. @killingbxys heavily impacted the creative decision, and i’m very proud with how this turned out. feedback is always greatly appreciated and encouraged.
Peter Parker had changed you in all of the best ways. He brought a smile to your lips, a tug to your heart, and a flicker of hope to the days that felt daunting. Before the coalition of Spiderman joining alongside the Avengers initiative, there had been a heavy displacement weighing on you.
Before Peter, you were isolated by your youth. It was hard for any one of the trained combatants on your team to visualize where your priorities were at. Bucky and Steve were nearly centenarian aged super soldiers. Natasha was raised in a hell house founded on the principle of ballet and assassination, Banner had anger issues that partnered threateningly with yours, and every other member of the invincible team had no idea how to handle a teenage girl with a millionaire father who wears an iron suit for a living during the worlds worst alien invasions. That was until Peter came along.
Before him, about the only thing that could ever bring a smile to your face was the holiday season. The hours spent training lessened, school let out for a few weeks, and when Wanda joined your dysfunctional found family after Sokovia, she spent hours in the kitchen sharing with you and the others some of her favorite seasonal sweets. This year none of that seemed to have stayed the same:
There was no twenty foot tree imported from France, no argument from Steve to train, and although you still had cookies from Wanda, they weren’t the same without Natasha, who always broke hers in half to split with you. Your father’s sacrifice to save the universe had assigned the Avengers to this earth, giving you battle instead of mistletoe. A war instead of the opportunity to grieve.
“Are you listening to me?”
May and Happy had taken you in days after you said goodbye for the last time. Pepper had understood. Your entire world had changed, and you didn’t have a place for her and Morgan in the reformed version just yet. It sounded horrible, and it made you feel even worse, but you had lost three significant figures within days. Nothing felt like it belonged anymore. Nothing but Peter.
It took you months of laying around his Queens apartment, refusing anything that wasn’t Happy’s famous deli sandwiches or Peter’s cuddles, before you could brave the remaining members of your father (and Fury’s) select team. Everyday felt heavy again, even with Peter’s company.
Your team, if you could even call them as much anymore, had been forced to watch you retire into the shell of an exuberant hero. It was like the calamitous days prior to Peter, when nobody but your internalized darkness would see you for stretches of days at a time. Your boyfriend had never understood why Tony thanked him so religiously, but seeing you now, like this, so disassociated with the continuing world around you, he understood.
“Baby.”
The Avengers, if you could even call yourselves as much anymore, had become earth's mightiest babysitters. At any minor inconvenience s.h.i.e.l.d called you into action without any disposition towards your recent losses and hardships. Just like right now. The night before Christmas Eve, and the bastards up at HQ had felt it necessary to pull you away from your humanity over a few misplaced bio-tech weapons. The situation was entirely approachable by any trained strike team, and yet they sent you out into the snow anyways.
“Y/N, are you listening?” Peter slips his pointer finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes are level to his stare. His body is burning up with worry, the heat of his touch creating a fire in your lower belly. Involuntarily you shiver with a desirable urge to look away from his chocolate gaze and instead return your focus to the monologue of memories overworking your thoughts.
You hadn’t been listening. Everyone knew that. Leniency had been provided for months, and all in hopes that you would try to overcome the crippling depression overhead. You hadn’t. Unlike the days prior to Peter, when you actively tried to experience the warmth of life beyond the construct of cold misery in your mind, you had given in and completely given up.
Your apology is soft against the blunt edge of the situation. Bucky’s preparing for a battle, and though you think it wise to have a plan of action prepared if events curve for the worse, the idea weighs heavy on your heart.
Sam offers you a sad smile, one of a few hundred thousands you’ve received since the snap that stole your fathers life. The pity drives you up a wall, and yet nobody seems to notice the tick in your jaw after they’ve coddled you like an incompetent child who’s unaware of her fathers true state. You know. You watched him die. And with everything in you, you fought to avoid taking his hand and laying yourself to rest in the same space of traitorous dirt. But, by the day it was getting harder to keep fighting, and you we’re getting tired of trying.
“Hey,” Bucky tries for your attention. His eyes have dulled since losing Steve, but he’s found a partner in Sam. You’re thankful he hasn’t confined himself to the acrimonious isolation you’ve fallen prey to. “We’re gonna win this kid.”
It was just a simple recovery mission. You wanted to believe Bucky, but this time, it didn’t feel like you would walk away the winners. When was the last time the Avengers really won anything, anyways?
As Sam parked the bus, it was chaos from there forth. The threat opposite your team had taken every precaution headquarters hadn’t warned you of, and while Wanda heeded no hesitation to charge towards the scene, your feet stayed steady and still. For a moment, you weren’t in a snowy country field, feeling the song of sharp winter wind against your knuckles and cheeks. Rather, the crunch of dry and misplaced dirt stained your bare feet in the same moments that Steve pulled you taut against his armor, and fought to keep you up right as life drained from your fathers eyes and his hand fell from Peppers.
You’re startled by hands smoothing over your forearms, though the texturized touch tells you that it’s Peter, and disarmingly you relax into his palms. He’s been wearing the latest evolved Spiderman suit since you found it, and it weighs heavy on your heart every day and each night knowing that your father never got the chance to perfect it and gift it to Peter himself.
“Hey, if you aren’t feeling up to this--”
You know he means well, and just wants to see you safe, but his gentle protection still finds a way to call you worthless without saying so little. “I’ll be fine,”
You weren’t fine.
Despite your best efforts to uphold a strong front and utilize the intensive combat training Steve put you through, every part of your body ached. You and Peter had been separated by raining bullets, and Bucky and Wanda were at the same disadvantage across the bloodied field, though both recognized heroes have inhuman benefits going for them-- just like your boyfriend. You have nothing. No superhuman abilities, no dad, no desire to relearn happiness without him.
Every punch you throw leaves your body feeling heavier, a black space dancing around your vision replacing sugar plums fairies. An electric baton stabs into your side, prompting your knees to give way beneath you. Your cheeks are flushed from the violent winds, though miraculously you’ve avoided any lacerations by the dual ended axe your battle opponent is wielding at you.
“Y/N!”
Sam watches you drop to your knees, no intention of returning to your feet and finishing the fight. Despite the way you see the situation, you’re winning. Your battle opponent is blistered and bruised, in part from his mishandling of the stolen bio-tech weapon, and in other parts from the many hits you’ve successfully landed at a calculated rate.
Peter’s heart drops at the call of your name. He manages to turn just in time to see Steve’s shield fall inches from your hands. Your face is smeared with strands of hair, the hair ties he bought you coming up on a week ago entirely too thin for battle so intensive, and having snapped minutes ago. None of you had expected this amount of bloodshed.
Everything following happens so quickly, you don’t even recognize the snow turning red beneath your feet, or notice Wanda and Bucky freeze fully. One minute you’re turning to reach for the shield Sam’s thrown in your direction, and the next it’s a fluttering of warmth encasing your entire frame.
The snow feels delicate beneath your fingers as you fall, but between the stars made of midnight you can see the sheer horror on Peter’s face. Somethings not right. You try to stand, and when you can’t, that when the fear overcomes you. You can’t feel anything below your head, and even then it’s heavy to the point of pain. Tears overwhelm your eyesight, and a panic sets off in your mind.
You don’t want to die. You haven’t seen Morgan in months-- haven’t even gotten the chance to talk to her about how great your dad continues to be even in death. You haven’t taught her how to punch, or taken her out for ice cream on a school night. You’ve bailed on Bucky’s movie nights consistently, and brushed off Sam’s jokes when he tries to lighten your heavy mood. You and Peter haven’t even finished your first semester in college.
Peter.
You can’t leave Peter. He’s lost so many people already, it’s selfish of you to add yourself to his list. You should have heeded his caution and just stayed away, taken the time for yourself instead of challenging the whisper of worthlessness agitating your mind. Peter hasn’t held you in hours. Suddenly you’re aware of not only that, but how cold it is outside, and how wet the snow is beneath you. You miss his arms around you.
You’re lackadaisically aware of the tender touches to your body, and your head being laid in someone’s lap. The last thing you feel is texturized fingers brushing along your hairline, letting you know that Peter has you. That you don’t have to miss him. His touch is what brings you to peace, so along with your sense of feeling goes your light.
With your head in Peter’s lap, hair dusted with snow and skin stained with blood and love, Peter presses the button of his nose to yours and relishes in the feeling and warmth of your last strangled exhale against his forehead. You’re gone before you can feel his lips press against yours, begging for you to kiss him back, but tragically remaining cold and still.
He’s alone now without you, positive that nothing can ever mean as much to him as you do, and no amount of time can repair the colossal damage left upon him by your absence. His violent sobs bring in Christmas Day, while his fingers dig into your flesh hoping for some reassurance of life. He waits for hours and nothing comes. You’re gone, and he’s heavy without you.
taglist → @deionswannabegirl @killingbxys @caramelscoffee @mischiefandi
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker angst#peter parker x stark!daughter#peter parker fluff#peter parker fic#peter parker and reader#peter parker and you#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker oneshot#peter parker one shot#peter parker imagine#boyfriend!peter#spiderman#tom holland#tom holland imagine#tom holland x reader#25 days of christmas#peter parker x stark!reader
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Undone by “Darling”
REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.
A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3
WARNINGS: none.
WORD COUNT: 1,932
____________________________________________________________________
Undone by “Darling”
17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it.
Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order.
‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan.
‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon.
‘I’m smarter’ you say.
‘I went to MIT’
‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’.
He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh.
‘How far along are you?’ you ask.
‘Still running diagnostics’.
‘Still!?’
‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’
‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’.
You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap.
‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’.
‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work.
xx
Loki’s POV:
Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people.
Take the Avengers Tower, for example.
Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality.
The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps.
They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game.
‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’
He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes.
‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says.
‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’.
She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’
‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’.
She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away.
‘We could play?’ I ask her.
‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’
‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’.
‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’.
She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’
‘Problem?’
‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’.
She says nothing.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would.
‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’.
And she carries on, unbothered.
‘Y/n!’
‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’
The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked.
I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’.
‘Sure, darling’.
Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this.
----------
The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that.
‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’
‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says.
‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’.
‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich.
As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy.
Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended.
‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’.
‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says.
‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes.
----------
The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required.
And so she called me.
After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard.
She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’
‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses.
‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’.
The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles.
‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance.
With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows.
She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy.
She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her.
Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall.
She spins the glaive and laughs.
‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’.
I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres.
‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.
Even my clones look around at each other puzzled.
‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’.
They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones.
She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’.
‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’
‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’
I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds?
‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’.
Silence.
‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’.
She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning.
No problem. Cunning is my specialty.
‘Ready now?’ she asks.
‘Mhm’.
She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock.
In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.
She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin.
The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen.
The illusion disappears into green light.
‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’
I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’.
Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will.
-------------
‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’.
‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’
‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’.
Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable.
‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks.
The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’.
‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n.
‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’.
Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter.
‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’.
He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’.
He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’
‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand.
And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed.
‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’
‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again.
___________________________________________________________
Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3
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ASK BOX OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS. Find GUIDELINES HERE.
#loki x you#loki pov#loki x reader#loki marvel#Marvel Avengers#avengers tower#avengers fluff#tony stark#loki fanfic#loki fluff#tom hiddleston fluff#tom hiddleston birthday#fic prompts
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Dark Narn AU
Recently I mentioned I had some ideas for a Dark Narn AU and @outofangband expressed curiosity, so I decided to copypaste my notes here :)
The reason this AU was conceived was that I wanted Túrin and Nienor to get buddy buddy with Gothmog and Glaurung…. Literally my motivation for this lmao.
WORD OF WARNING:
1. This is almost 3 pages long on Gdocs 😭
2. This is actually dark, so mind yourself. CW for mentions of nonconsent, manipulation, murder, slavery, the whole nine yards and, of course, incest.
And btw, this relies on my headcanon/understanding that there were mortal slaves in Angband as well as elves.
When teenage Húrin and Huor are cornered by orcs in Brethil, they are in a dense spot. Húrin stays behind to hold the orcs while Huor runs up the hill. Huor would never have left his brother behind, but it’s a mess and he doesn’t realize what happened until he’s being carried away by other soldiers/rescuers and screaming his lungs out for Húrin, who’s pulled back by the orcs and then taken captive to Angband.
There he undergoes some brainwashing by Melkor, who, true to the essence of their Narn interactions, sees he can profit more from corruption than from killing this agent. By this point Húrin is a teen and hasn’t met Turgon yet. He breaks eventually and becomes Melkor’s champion.
We have Húrin, and now we need Morwen. To keep the chronology, I prefer having her be captured during a raid on Emeldir’s group of refugees, when they’re migrating west to escape the Battle of the Sudden Flame; that can also have Rian either being captured as well, or escaping and following canon and marrying Huor and mothering Tuor, which I prefer for this AU (also casts a shadow on them as… replacements for the true heirs, sort of! Both having dear family members, who are also the eldest and the legitimate heirs, captured by Morgoth). Either after his brainwashing is complete, or during it, she is given to Húrin to marry as a token of Melkor’s regard: Morwen the beauty, the heir of the House of Bëor, the only fitting consort for the heir to the house of Hador, etc. Túrin is born in 464.
Lalaith is born two years later, which is a weird year because that’s when Beren and Lúthien steal one of Melkor’s silms! Angband has never been more somber, but there is talk of hope among the slaves, of which Morwen hears some, as well as the name of Beren her kinsmen who she knows and loves. She’s fiercely proud of him. But then Húrin, who is head over hells smitten with her, but who’s still wary of her loyalties, casually mentions in bed at some point that Beren was killed by Carcharoth (a lie meant to shake her/destroy any hopes of rescue), and that despite the loss of the Silmaril, Melkor is somewhat satisfied that the whole ordeal ended up dividing the elven kingdoms further apart, and confides in her about some of the plans for the following war (Unnumbered Tears).
The very next day, Morwen kills Urwen. She knows how other female thralls fare, and she knows that as soon as Húrin is dead Melkor would have no more use for them. Like canon, better dead than a thrall. To her, killing Urwen is not only a mercy, but an act of love. I think Morwen was about to end her own life too, or maybe end Túrin’s, but they caught her before she did any more. Maybe she locked herself with her children in a bedroom, ready to off all of them, and someone intervened before she could.
This sends Húrin into a rage out of despair because he really dotes on Urwen no matter the AU, and Túrin takes it all pretty hard, as he adored his sister and feels betrayed and confused. Melkor ofc enjoys the opportunity to turn Húrin even more towards him, and encourages him to get another child from Morwen to make up for the one he lost, whether she wants it or not.
In this AU Niënor is conceived (at least) nine months before the Unnumbered and not nine months later. During all the pregnancy Morwen is watched, to make sure she won’t do anything drastic. Túrin is one of the people keeping tabs on her. Morwen names her Niënor, lamentation, and instead of being offended, Húrin laughs and says it’s an appropriate name for a warrior that shall bring woe to her foes, who will lament upon seeing her. Morwen is forbidden to be alone with Niënor and they are closely watched; as a result, they aren’t very close in this hc, as opposed to canon. Niënor grows up being reminded that her mother wants to kill her, never wanted to conceive her in the first place.
Both Túrin and Nienor have strong mommy issues. Túrin is always keeping Morwen company and they have a very similar temper, but he tries to keep his visits a secret from Nienor. Nienor loves Túrin enormously but confronts him when she learns he still visits Morwen; also I think she sees Morwen in Túrin a little, too, because they’re so similar. It drives her mad. There’s a lot going on here with sibling competition / possessiveness / jealousy; Nienor doesn’t want Túrin to get along with Morwen, against whom she has a big grudge; she also doesn’t like that Morwen gives to Túrin the love she has always denied Niënor (according to how Niënor perceives the situation). She wants Túrin to choose her but Túrin just evades the question or gets angry and they fight.
I like the idea of Húrin heading the fight against mortals in the Unnumbered, and him and Huor meeting on the battlefield, and killing each other.
Túrin is crazy about Nienor, though you wouldn’t guess it by looking. Not only they’re the only mortals around who are equals and thus relatable on any level, he projects a lot of his Urwen grief on her and is very protective and possessive. There’s a lot of unresolved tension that they don’t even acknowledge. When they’re together onlookers get a feeling like there isn’t space for anyone else - though Morwen is an always-felt presence and the only crack in their bond. Túrin is stoic and reserved and his canon obsession with fighting Melkor is changed into a type of family pride. Right now I think he’s really mad that Dor-Lómin was given to the Easterlings and his mistrust of Melkor grows. He’s also concerned with the hidden elf cities, especially Nargothrond and Doriath because of their ties to the Silmaril heist.
In this AU Túrin (and Húrin before he dies) is buddies with Gothmog who is sort of a mentor to him, and Nienor has a great friendship with Glaurung, whom she rides on sometimes, maybe into battle.
I had considered the idea of either Túrin or Nienor meeting Gwindor by accident on the woods and goading him and fooling him, following him until they got the path to Nargothrond, while the other sibling followed them from afar. One sibling goes into the town and the other comes with the army down on them, no need for bridges I guess. Or the bridge can be deliberate sabotage. Since I like Nienor riding Glaurung, it can be Túrin who goes in, as in canon - OTOH idk how good Túrin can be with deception no matter the AU, so maybe it is Nienor... though, really, is she any better? Also, would she have a voice in council? How sexist are they? Maybe if she got Gwindor’s ear somehow… idk, thoughts!
Anyway, Finduilas is captured and not killed, though I’m not sure how much better this is. Maybe both Túrin and Nienor take her for consort in a smoking hot, nonconsensual, incesty edain sandwich.
I haven’t thought ahead of this yet, that’s all I have! They need to have a cool and tragic ending, though I’m still unsure how. I feel like they need to fall with Brethil, but then I’m unsure what happens. Also I really don’t want Túrin and Nienor to have a permanent falling out and dying hating each other, it’s not my thing. I feel like they need to die together, like in canon.
Things to consider:
>> Tuor and Aerin as kin who are held captive. Do Túrin and Nienor know they exist and are there? If they do, how do they react?
>> Morwen + other mortal thralls, or maybe Morwen + having ELVISH thralls to serve her, which Melkor does to show Húrin how much he honors him bla bla. I love this concept.
>> Húrin and Gothmog banter, Gothmog warming up to the mortal once he sees him being an absolute savage in battle, Húrin and Gothmog competing to see who causes more havoc
>> Glaurung is super mean to Morwen once and that tickles Nienor so much she just gets attached to him. Nienor joking with Túrin that she rides a dragon (Glaurung) and he is ridden by one (the dragon helm of Dor-lómin)
>> Gurthang???? I think Túrin needs a black sword. I’m SUPER attached to the visuals of Nienor using an axe though.
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Indistinct | Chapter 4
Written by: hellsenthero
BuckyXFemReader
As a shapeshifter you’ve done some heavy spy work, jobs that no one else is capable of. It’s what you’re used to but it’s no longer where you’re needed for. Now after years of working solo SHIELD has assigned you as part of the Avengers and it’s there that you’ll face your most difficult times. But maybe with the help of a certain dark haired, blue eyed super soldier that you have a history with, things won’t be so bad...right?
Indistinct Masterlist: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, <Chapter 4 current> Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | (Series is complete. )
My Main Masterlist.
Warnings/Themes: Flangst (1.5K Words.)
**********
It seemed that starting from scratch was a good thing for Bucky and Y/N. Everyone in the compound noticed the two got along better, sometimes they’d even catch them laughing at some joke. Day by day, week by week, the walls they’d built up were taken apart, brick by brick.
Y/N had even begun calling Bucky by his name rather than Soldier, and though Bucky would never admit it, hearing his name spill from her lips was the sweetest sound to him.
The turning point for the two of them hadn’t necessarily been the day they’d agree to start from scratch, to put their past behind them and start as strangers, but it came a week after that.
Y/N had gone to bed early, claiming exhaustion from her long hours of training with the team she’d gone straight to bed as the sun was just beginning to set. The clouds turned pink in a way that resembled cotton candy and the sun sat in hues of gold and rose on the horizon. It was supposedly the best sunset they’d gotten all month.
Scraping his chair against the floor, Bucky stood up from his seat at the kitchen table, putting his empty dinner plate in the sink he excused himself.
“I’m gonna head to bed early tonight. Goodnight.” He said gruffly to his team.
“You too, huh?” Tony said, catching on to both Bucky and Y/N’s early night.
“Yeah, I’m tired.” Bucky bit back before he left the room, the rest of the Avengers left staring at his back as he walked off.
The truth was Bucky wasn’t tired. In fact, he’d been hoping for a late night with the intentions of asking Y/N if she’d like to watch a movie with him in the common room. But with Y/N going to bed early she’d unknowingly taken away Bucky’s evening plans, and so with nothing else to do, he went to bed.
Hours later, in the middle of the night Bucky awoke to the chilling sounds of screaming. In a matter of seconds he realized they were screams that he knew, screams that he’d heard before.
They were Y/N’s screams, the very ones that fueled his nightmares, like gasoline on a raging fire.
In a flash Bucky flew out of bed and sprinted to Y/N’s room that was mere feet from his own. Throwing her door open wide he stepped inside her room, his eyes searching to find the girl’s attacker but he found none other than her own conscious.
Thrashing on her bed in a tangle of sheets lay Y/N. Her hair, Bucky was surprised to see, was its natural pure white, a colour he’d never seen on her before. It was beautiful, but as the girl let out another scream the thought faded to the back of his mind.
“Y/N,” Bucky called out as he came to stand at the side of her bed, “Y/N wake up.” Laying his flesh hand gently on Y/N’s shoulder he shook her awake. “Come on doll, wake up.”
With a shuddering gasp Y/N’s eyes flew open and Bucky sucked in a breath of air as he was left staring at her natural eyes, pure white with no iris or pupil. Once again he got caught up in the thought that he’d never seen her natural form before. As shocking as it may be, it was beautiful, Y/N was beautiful.
“Soldier,” Y/N gasped, her eyes flitting across the room in panic in an attempt to get her bearings.
“It’s okay,” Bucky soothed. Kneeling on the bed he brought his other hand up to rest against Y/N, his fingers lightly tracing invisible patterns against her skin in an effort to calm her. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” Bucky’s words washed over Y/N like a calming balm, soothing away her fears.
“Bucky,” she breathed, her voice softer, calmer as she came to realize she was in her room at Avengers Compound and not the dark, dingy basement of Hydra’s compound.
“Yeah, it’s me Y/N. You’re okay, you’re safe.”
“Oh Bucky,” Y/N said, her hand coming to grip onto Bucky’s shirt in desperation, “you’re okay?” Y/N’s question took Bucky by surprise. Here she was, sweat glistening on her face from the terrors of her nightmare, her throat raw from screaming and yet she was not concerned about herself but rather the soldier than nealt over her.
“I’m okay if you are.” He answered, and it was the truth. He didn’t care what nightmares he’d face when he went back to his own bed. If Y/N was okay, so was he. The shapeshifter nodded her head, her breathing calming down as she gazed at Bucky’s baby blues.
“I’m okay.” She told him. Bucky nodded his head before going to pull away, not because he wanted to, but because he thought that’s what Y/N wanted. “Don’t,” Y/N breathed out, her grip tightening on Bucky’s shirt.
“You want me to stay?” Bucky asked, hoping to hear the girl before him say yes. But Y/N remained silent, her eyes downcast as she realized the situation and how vulnerable it made her. Her grip on his cotton shirt loosened, her fingers losing their grip as she opened her mouth to bid him goodnight. But Bucky could always read her like an open book. He knew she wouldn’t be the first to set foot in the deep waters that separated them and so, he took the first step for her.
“I’d like to stay, if that’s okay with you?” Looking back up Y/N gave a shallow nod of her head, her lips barley twitching upwards as she made room for him in her bed.
“Thank you.” She whispered to Bucky in the darkness of her room.
“I don’t know what for.” He answered with a smile. They stayed silent after that for many long minutes, both their breaths evening out before Bucky spoke up again. “You should keep this look,” he said, picking up a strand of Y/N’s white hair to wave it in her face, “it suits you best.” Y/N gasped as she realized she was in her true form, the shock of it though was quickly replaced by shock that Bucky had seen her true, pure white eyes, and hadn’t fled. Afterall, she had friends in the past who’d done worse than flee at the sight of her.
“You like it?” Y/N asked, her surprise evident in the pitch of her voice.
“I do.” Bucky admitted.
“Do you think the others would mind?” Bucky let out a low laugh at the seriousness in Y/N’s question.
“Y/N, we have a guy on the team that turns into a big green giant when he’s angry, I don’t think the others will mind your form.” Y/N nodded back at Bucky.
“I’ll think about it.” She said and with that the two of them fell asleep in Y/N’s bed, their bodies pressed tightly together in an effort to remind themselves that the other was okay, that they were safe.
The next morning Y/N went down to breakfast in her true form and she stayed like that, like herself, for the following weeks.
Now she sat at the kitchen table, her lips bloomed into an honest smile as she and Bucky debated which movie they’d be watching that night.
“Bucky, you have to watch The Mummy with me.” Y/N said before taking another bite of her sandwich. Bucky shook his head, amused at the shapeshifters eagerness to watch the fantasy film.
“It sounds stupid.” Y/N rolled her eyes as she leaned across the table to poke at Bucky.
“To be fair it kinda is, BUT…” Y/N said, raising her voice as Bucky opened his mouth to speak, “it’s still a good movie. I think you’ll like it Bucky.” Bucky let out a huff of hair, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at the girl’s white eyes.
“Fine, but I pick the snacks and the next movie.”
“Deal.” Y/N said with a coy smile, happy with the outcome of their squabble.
And so their day’s continued on. They’d train, watch films and talk. Y/N always staying in her natural form. The others gave the two Avengers their space to get to know one another all over again. They didn’t know about their past together but they weren’t oblivious to the fact that the two had clearly known each other before Y/N joined the team.
It wasn’t until weeks later when a mission went wrong that Y/N shifted to look like another. And it wasn’t until that mission that the two realized what was going on between them, the feelings they had for the other.
But the universe enjoyed cruelty, that much was clear to them.
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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 26
first time reader click here
TWs/SUMMARY: Drunken love confessions and other emotional constipation. A threesome between two awesome facial hair bros and reader. I'm absolutely unhappy with how this turned out because a certain sorcerer insisted on being super soft in this one. But at least there's porn...
On the same note, how do we feel about introducing more m/m action? I am a total slut for bisexual boys. I can't help the gay it just comes out...
I danced with Tony briefly as the drinks finally caught up to him. The ex-playboy certainly defended his title: he had impeccable sense of rhythm and we swayed on the floor in tandem, bothering very little with hiding how hot we were for each other. Grinding our hips together, my ass on his dick, Tony was half-hard and I felt it all through the layers of tulle of my skirt and leather of his pants. Now and then his hands wandered, shamelessly squeezing my breasts and my ass, his mouth leaving a blazing hot trail on my neck and my shoulders.
I wasn't far behind. Tony's hair was all kinds of messed up thanks to my own hands and his ass found itself in the very same palms far more than once. "It's a shame Bruce doesn't dance," I pouted drunkenly, receiving an equally intoxicated noise of vague approval. "The three of us are perfect," I stated something that had been boiling over in my head quite a bit.
Tony nodded again. "Yeah," He was far more touchy than usual; his lips landed in my hair right next to my ear. "Bet we can get Merlin, though. I saw him with Natasha earlier," Tony went in to kiss my cheek and missed again, sloppily smooching my temple.
"He has no business being that fuckin' hot," I spit out petulantly without a second thought.
"You're fuckin' right and you should say it," Tony agreed instantly, both of us wearing almost identical, indignant expressions. We paused for a moment, looking deeply into each other's eyes - or, well, we tried to. Drinks and drugs tended to make focusing quite hard. "So we're doing this?" Tony squinted questioningly.
"What about Bruce?" I immediately replied, mind going back to the way my sciency boyfriend was smirking at my and Tony's reaction to Stephen's grand entrance.
"He's okayed any and all our ventures provided we tell him about it," Tony said after a moment of stunned silence.
I chewed on my lip in muted amusement. "What's, he's got, like, a kink?" I tried to articulate my confusion. "And we somehow ended up, I mean all three of us - without talking?" I voiced my concerns. This conversation was really overdue and I'll be damned if that weren't the drugs making me talk. I would probably regret it in the morning...
Tony's eyes softened immediately, a palm raising to trace the side of my face lovingly and gently. "Me and Bruce had a conversation about... You. We both liked you, it's fucking impossible to dislike you, have you seen you? We had decided to let you choose at first, woved for it to not get in the way of our friendship..." He trailed off, looking sheepish and slurring his words slightly. The alcohol had loosened his lips too. I felt only the thump of the bassline, music fading away into the background, my ears hearing only the words leaving Tony's mouth. "I doubt it would have worked out anyways. But you..." He cupped my face. "You gave us everything."
I would have cried if not for the chemicals in my system. My mouth formed a smile on it's own accord and I reached closer to slot it over Tony's shaky grin, bringing us into a slow and sloppy kiss that lasted what felt like years. "I love you, okay? You and Bruce," I spit out the words I desperately wanted to say for so long. Nothing really mattered in the moment, it was just me and Tony and our shared feelings. It wasn't bizarre anymore, loving someone and being loved back.
"Me too, Princess, me too," Tony whispered, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. One of the many advantages of having a boyfriend that wasn't a six-foot tall muscle-bound fricking bastard.
"We have a mission," I reminded him after another song slowly transitioned into a different one. "But I'm also craving a cigarette."
Tony's hand encompassesed mine as he led the way to the patio where the smokers area was located. Bucky's shiny metal arm stood out amongst the partygoers and we made a beeline for him. I bummed a cigarette off him despite Steve's prominent frown and Bucky was even gentleman enough to light it up for me.
We needn't have looked for Strange, it was a few minutes after I'd taken my first drag that he appeared, spouting like a mushroom right after a rainfall. He was frowning. "Caught some douchebag trying to roofie a girl," He explained. Barnes gave him a cigarette without question, trading a dark look with Steve. "Natasha and Loki are taking care of it," Strange supplied, jerking a hand towards the back of the room.
Barnes eyed Tony until the latter gave a short, resigned nod. "Just don't do anything that will land me in the papers," The billionaire sighed before speaking several short commands into a bracelet that served as a direct communication device with Friday. "I raised the security monitors for any suspicious activity too. Put in an earpiece and Friday will notify you if someone else tries to act funny," Tony finished darkly, eyeing Stephen's shaking hands.
I choose to stay silent throughout the interaction, letting the pissed off men to blow off some steam before approaching them. Barnes' cigs migrated into my hands and I watched the tense, retreating backs of the super-soldiers until only the three of us were left in a comfortable silence. I waited until the man was done with his cancer stick and promptly grabbed his hands, gently but firmly stroking the scarred skin.
Tony leaned on the railing, watching us with open interest.
Strange cocked a curious eyebrow but didn't retract his hands, releasing a quiet sigh when my movements successfully calmed the tremors. "Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of being... Nice," He spoke after a moment.
"I know," I replied dryly. "But being nice all the time is boring."
"A day with you is never boring," Tony winked at us teasingly, noticing me step further into the sorcerer's personal space. His eyes were still glowing and whatever spell he had put on himself was still working, attracting me to him like a magnet.
Stephen looked to the side, at Tony, then at me, before gently pulling out a single hand and making an elaborate gesture that made his skin briefly shimmer. The unnatural pull disappeared - me and Tony both exhaled heavily - yet the appreciation for Stephen's lithe, agile form remained. He was a beautifully made man.
Tony made his own move, a signature of his, placing a steady palm on the taller man's back and looking up at Stephen through his eyelashes. The fresh air had sobered both of us up by quite a bit and our coordination returned.
Stephen smirked slightly, running his eyes over the crowd of partygoers gathered around us. Nobody was paying any particular attention to the three of us yet all of us were acutely aware how much damage could be done by a stray snapshot, an accidental Snapchat feature, or something drunkenly posted on public social media by an absolute stranger. Tony and Strange threw each other a secretive, heated glance while I pressed myself closer to Tony, still caressing one of Stephen's hands. To the public, it was nothing more than a friendly gesture to help out a close friend out of his discomfort.
"Your place? I'm afraid mine's a mess," Stephen asked, uncharacteristically dorky and overused pick-up line.
"Lead the way," Tony smirked, both of us sharing a muted giggle at the doctor's antics. In response, Stephen extracted his other hand from my grasp and waved them about in the familiar gesture of creating a portal. On the other side of the circle was the familiar scenery of Tony's penthouse bedroom, sheets, as always, unmade and my fluffy socks hanging half-way off the comforter.
I pulled both men into the circle by their forearms, making quick in hopes everybody around us was too drunk to take note of the surroundings on the other side of the portal. An obscenely large bed in plain view didn't leave much space for speculation.
I sat down on it, taking my time to observe the curious interaction between two men in front of me. The sexual tension between them was undeniable, it crackled in the space between their bodies, lit an unholy fire in their eyes. If I was completely honest with myself - Stephen was hot, but Stephen and Tony together, it was out of this world and I would have been very content to just hang back and watch the two of them going at it.
Untying and toeing off my shoes had me distracted for a brief moment - evidently enough for Stephen to lose his pretense and roughly grab Tony by his face, smashing their lips together gracelessly. Tony's hands grasped the expensive fabric of Stephen's blazer with a force that was equal to the one gathering in the low of my belly. The dress I wore was now carefully thrown over a nearby lounge chair, leaving me in a set of golden bra and tiny panties. It was a gift from Tony: he loved when I wore his colors.
My almost bare body got their attention: panting, they broke apart to stare at me, their gazes hungry enough to make me shiver and feel like prey. Tony's arms sandwiched me between them, letting Stephen's lips to taste mine for the first time. The sorcerer did not hesitate, he plunged his tongue into my mouth and immediately seized command of the kiss. He kissed like he fought, sharply, with precision and demand.
I popped the buttons on his shirt as he explored my mouth, finding the skin of his chest taut and textured with a multitude of smaller, thinner scars. He was built like a runner, or a swimmer, all lean muscle and sculpted hipbones and neatly stacked ribs. His shirt suffered a haste demise.
The thuds and jingles accompanied by quiet cursing behind my back alerted me to Tony's struggle with his intricately made costume. "Can you boom-boom-whoosh it away?" I asked Stephen.
He pulled away with an amused smirk, waving his glowing hands about. "Do what now?"
"It's what the internet calls your voodoo shit, don't quote me," Tony snarked, suddenly finding himself wearing only his boxers. I was promptly pulled to his chest, in what I knew was a defensive gesture - he hated showing off the scarred area around his arc reactor. He used to hide it from me, too.
Stephen hummed, once again waving his hands about in a surprisingly complicated set of motions. I was mesmerised by his hands - even despite the injuries, they remained as skilled and perplexing. Once Stephen was left in his underwear, I wasted no time in detaching from Tony and steering the sorcerer to fall freely into the large bed.
"You need to stop being so smug," I stated, climbing on top of Stephen and claiming his lips for myself. "It's bound to get you in trouble."
"Is that so?" And still, the man looked as satisfied as the cat who ate the canary. That just won't do.
"Tones, help me out, I'm trying to see smtn'," I asked, feeling the man settle in next to me and trace a gentle hand down my side, over my breast and down to the flat of Stephen's belly. The man under me shivered, face slowly heating up.
"Yes, dear?" My engineer supplied helpfully.
"Off," With a sudden change of pace, I snapped the elastic of Stephen's boxers, causing the man to jump and the very sizeable bulge in them twitch. Tony obediently pulled down the offending piece of clothing, causing Stephen to groan as the cool air hit the heated flesh of his most sensitive spots.
I settled between his thighs, spitting in my palm and giving his long cock a few solid strokes, enjoying the way his hips seemed to involuntarily follow the movement of my slick palm.
"I'd brace myself if I were you," Tony remarked teasingly, bending down to kiss the sorcerer again. Between my and Tony's mouths, Steph really didn't stand a chance.
The obscenely long moan that left his mouth was swallowed by Tony as my lips and tongue made to wrap around the very tip of Stephen's cock. I tasted the musk and the salt of him as I made down his long cock, taking extra time to warm up my throat for the incoming intrusion. And when I finally swallowed him, to the hilt, I swear I felt the way his body shook.
There was a lot more noise coming from the two men - I briefly lifted my eyes to see Stephen sucking a hickey onto the side of Tony's neck with a vigour, Tony's hand holding onto Stephen's hair as the taller man palmed the shorter man's bulge through his boxers.
I was pretty sure my juices were flowing down my thighs. The two men were a Sight; the drugs and booze in my system had me reaching new levels of arousal, levels I previously didn't even know existed. A needy noise left my lips, muffled by the delicious cock stretching them and I knew it was time to grant myself the thing I had been craving for so long.
Swiftly, I pulled off Stephen's cock and sat down into his lap, grinding my panty-covered mound atop his erection that laid on his belly, twitching and leaking. "You want a condom? We're clean and I'm on birth control," I offered.
"I'm clean, feel free to..." Stephen detached his mouth from Tony just long enough to mutter consent, immediately going back to taste the engineer's skin and mark it with his lips and teeth. By the time I she'd my underwear and slid down on his sizeable cock, I had noticed the necklace of blues and reds decorating Tony's neck and clavicles.
"Fuck, yessss..." I hissed, the emptiness within me finally fed. Experimentally raising my hips up and down a few times, I quickly found a rhythm that made for sinful noises to fall from both of our lips. Tony was whining, too, in impatience. "Tony, wanna try something?"
That piqued his interest. He looked at me, eyes unfocused and blown with lust. "Hm?" As Steph continued satiating his hunger for Tony's skin.
I carefully considered it before speaking. "Get behind me," I ordered breathily, slowing my pace just enough to keep me tethering on the brink of release.
"We need lube," He mumbled immediately, catching my drift - well, not quite.
"Nope, we don't. I can take both of you," I stated, bending over and spreading my legs a little wider. With Tony and Bruce, it would have been impossible considering the fact that Bruce's cock was as thick as a fuckin' coke can, but with Stephen being a little more reasonably sized... I must admit, I was curious. It certainly looked interesting enough in porn. Plus, it would allow the two men to feel each other-
"Fuckin' hell," Stephen groaned, one hand gripping my hip to steady himself. So that was a definite yes. "Princess, you're killing me here."
Tony took all of a whole second to get in position and spit in his hand, adding extra lubrication just in case. Thoughtful Tony. He needn't have worried, however - every inch from my thighs to Steph's balls was covered in my juices. To say that I was turned on would have been a massive fuckin' understatement.
"Fu-uck, you're so good, baby," Tony groaned. I felt the tip of his cock breach and stretch my entrance, finding the sting not painful but rather pleasurable. Inch by inch, I felt myself open up. The sensations were incredibly powerful, my release approaching even despite the steady slow movements that Tony was making.
"Harder," I begged, feeling my release approach with the force of a freight train. Both men complied, falling into a careful but powerful rhythm, shaking me to the core with each precise thrust. It didn't take long for me to clench and spasm around the cocks, making both men pick up the pace, their movements turning sloppy. My own imagination supplied the extra mile, figuring their cocks rubbing against each other inside my sloppy wet hole made it feel twice as intense.
Tony wrapped his forearm around my throat, putting a healthy arch to my back - I didn't know whose cock was hitting just the right spot and I didn't care. My eyes met Stephen's - he was watching me come undone, worrying his lip between his teeth, his own eyes darting between my and Tony's face. In a split second decision, I took hold of one of his hands and popped the index and middle fingers into my mouth, softly sucking on them, covering the digits in my little gasps and moans
Stephen's back arched and Tony groaned, stuttering his hips in response. As soon as the little crease between the sorcerer's eyebrows made a humble appearance, he was coming. "Fuck!" He yelped hoarsely, painting my insides and Tony's cock white. The engineer dropped his head onto my shoulders, panting, getting a few stuttered thrusts and he was coming, too, jerking almost violently behind me.
Him shoving his cock as deeply as possible within me triggered another wave of bliss for me. I followed the two men, gasping around the fingers in my mouth and behind the unyielding strength of Tony's arm. I felt wrung out, like a paper bag scrunched up and used...
In the best way. It was incredibly hot. The realisation that I had been marked by two glorious men from the inside out made me shiver and the men in question twitch in response to the involuntary flutter my pussy had done from my thoughts.
"Woah," Tony mumbled, gently pulling out of my sore and sloppy hole.
"Yeah," Stephen was finally speechless and tranquil. A picture of serendipity, really, with his arm thrown comfortably over his head and a sated little smirk on his face.
I couldn't resist pecking him on the lips as I slid off his body to nest myself between him and Tony who still seemed to be catching his breath. "You should be like this more often," I stated, feeling myself slip into drowsiness.
"Gimme a reason," Stephen mumbled, barely a trace of his usual sarcasm.
"Oh we will," Tony finished darkly, throwing a sheet over the three of us and settling a comfortable arm across my waist, palm flat on Stephen's tummy. Last thing I heard before I fell into a deep sleep was Stephen's blunt nails scratching softly along Tony's scalp.
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#Stephen Strange x reader x Tony Stark#stephen strange x y/n#stephen strange x you#stephen strange x reader#tony stark x y/n#tony stark x reader#tony stark x you#tony stark smut#stephen strange smut#party favours#bun writes
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