In Which It's Midnight And You're Lonely And So Is Peter And It's The Perfect Recipe For Feelings 🌻

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 | 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 "𝐒𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐱" 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲

Courtland Gentry × Reader

Summary: Being pregnant fucking sucked, but he made it tolerable.

Warnings: Language, Insomnia, Fluff, Mild angst, Sexual Frustration, Implied age gap, Pregnant Sex, Minors DNI, Choking, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Handjob, Rough Sex, Pregnancy kink, Breeding Kink.

Had a bit of a field day. Don't mind me.

Your gaze is stationed on the ceiling, your hand cupping your swollen belly with what you hoped was endearment but what you actually knew to be deep, underlying… irritation.

"You're the guest here." You mutter aloud.

"A guest in my body." You turn in the empty king sized bed. Splayed across your body was the fierce and overwhelming scent of him. You had hoped slipping into one of his shirts would alleviate any chance of insomnia befalling you tonight. That, if you somehow manage to trick your brain into believing Six was in this bed with you, not out on some godawful mission, that you would feel comforted enough to get some fucking sleep…

But no such luck. You were far too aware and far too smart to trick yourself into anything really. The second you had announced your pregnancy, Six had insisted-

'No,' Your inner monologue chided with fierce resistance, 'that isn't the correct verb at all.'

Six had threatened any and all forces that would dare dispute your check-in for early maternity leave. Your entire life was confined to this lovely, modern splurge for 5 whole months and after 5 whole months, you begin to get antsy. You begin to get short tempered. Oftentimes chiding the innocent little life in your belly since there really was no one else around this massive house to talk to.

Six was Six.

Six had a job.

And while a part of you knew his getting out of his job was far more easier said than done, you never failed to hold impenetrable resentment to the entity on the other end of the phone calls, interrupting your family time with their top secret bullshit.

And the insomnia.

God, this baby never fucking slept.

"You're the one paying rent here. I let you piss, shit and eat inside of me, and this is the thanks I get, Little Monster?" No matter how hard you tried, there was not a sliver of malice in your voice, it sounded like a smile. A happy smile, because you knew you always had a part of him with you.

"I miss your dad," You say with so much melancholy it rips the tears right out of the sky. A light drizzle begins to sprinkle over the grounds, tapping away at the floor to ceiling windows like an amicable visitor coming to keep you company for the evening.

"Look at that. It's raining." You say, pushing your heavy body up by your forearms before wiggling your way out the edge of the bed. You unconsciously splay a hand over your stomach as you go to draw the curtains, finding much more comfort in the pelting rain than the darkened bedroom.

"Did you bring me some rain, little monster?

"It's not my baby you're calling a monster. That I know for sure,"

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your gaze is stationed on the wet grounds beyond the window, never daring to turn around for the impenetrable fear that it all might be a dream.

"It's a term of endearment," You manage to say after a few moments of silence, "A little nickname to remember it's father by." There's a tinge of bitterness veneered behind your sentence, and your shoulders are rigid. You fold your arms beneath your full, sensitive breasts as you glare at the window.

That all dissipates when you're enveloped from behind by a strong pair of arms. You have it: the comfort you have been longing for but never having the capacity to provide for yourself. You simply melt into his firm arms, his biceps tightening against the wet windbreaker far too cold against your bare arms but you don't care.

"Low blow, Mrs Gentry." You're greeted by a gruff voice, speaking into the nape of your neck. You blame it on the pregnancy hormones but the feeling of his facial hair alone has a pool of need welling between your legs.

"How are my two girl's doing?" Six's hands stretch over your belly, rubbing slow and deliberate circles. "I missed you both so much."

"Why do you just assume that we're having a girl?" You ask in mock irritation. "You don't even know-"

Six does an evil thing. A very very evil thing. Your sentence dissipates in the confines throat becuase of the hand that once one rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your belly, drifting upwards until his palm is laying flat against your breasts. The nipples harden under his soft and pleasant grip and you moan into nothing.

"Jesus Christ… you're so.." Six searches for the words as he massages your breasts. His tired, overworked brain is clouded with nothing but the ever present tempest of adoration and lust. "You're so…"

"Horny?" You finish for him, paying close attention to his heavy breathing behind you and the bulge growing in his pants.

"Pregnant." He says instead, finally spinning you around to look at him. Once you do, you are firmly planted in the knowledge that he is in fact real.

Your feet move on their own accord. The rain sings as you drift by Six and his half-lidded gaze. You waltz over to the bed -your bed. Six's eyes darken when you plop yourself in the center, opening your legs like a vixen in heat.

He had never seen a more delicious sight but he craved to see more.

"The shirt. Take it off." You fight the smile off your face at the dominating streak already slithering in. Last time he spoke to you like this, you ended up pregnant.

"Is this better?" You ask, having discarded the shirt on the bedroom floor. You're wearing nothing but your comfort cotton panties. Your breasts are on full display, catching all his attention.

Six slowly stalks toward you. The thunder claps in the distance as he appears from the shadows. A delighted thrill eases down your spine and the ache between legs intensifies.

Six is already palming his cock through his pants as he draws closer. You unconsciously open your legs further.

"Daddy's missed you so much," he says, working his cock out of his pants. You frown at that, feeling far too petulant.

"No more talking to her," You say, a pout protruding from your bottom lip. You ought to be ashamed really, but you had just gotten your man back.

Right now he was yours.

"Who said I was talking to the baby?" Six says, causing your heart to skip ever so slightly before he's lowering his head, crashing his lips onto yours. Court keeps a steady hand on the bed as he hovers above you. The kiss, between you both starting out like tiny licks of a flame before descending into complete and utter madness.

"You're so pretty like this," he murmurs against your lips. His fingers rub and pinch your sensitive nipples, making your cunt squeeze around nothing at all. "Daddy loves seeing you like this, baby." He continues, teeth clashing against teeth before he forces his tongue into your mouth.

"Fuck, I just," You break away from his lips to deliver a trail of kisses down his neck. Six closes his eyes in pure bliss. "I've missed you so much," your hand, as sly as a fox drifting down his body before slipping quite unceremoniously into his pants. You wrap a firm hand around his hard cock, squeezing lightly which draws a pained hiss from him.

"Fuck, baby girl," Court musters, trying but failing to hold his reserve as his eyes screw shut and your hand works magic around his cock. He's so far gone, thinking about how he's wanted this for as long as the two of you had been apart. He had thought of you multiple times on his trips, oftentimes waking up in luxury hotels with the budding image of you, pregnant and asleep, waiting for him to touch you... To fuck you...

"I missed you so much, Daddy," Your words drip like fresh honey. "And I know you've missed me."

"More than you'll ever know," he whispers into the air. Every semblance of resolve is broken, every ounce of his control has dissolved. He's teetering on the edge, wanting to fill you up once again with his seed. The thought having his hips bucking into your hand.

"Open your leg, baby. Open your legs," as if you had ever really closed them. Court runs two fingers down your slit, sending your head reeling back into the sheets with your back arching as far as your belly would allow. "Jesus- please! F-fuck me, Daddy,"

Court's breathe is heavy, his chest rising and falling as he throws his jacket and shirt over his head. "You keep saying shit like that and I'd have to keep you like this forever."

You gaze up at him with lust-filled siren eyes eyes begging to be fucked raw. It was what you both needed. You craved his hands, rough and calloused, coasting over every inch of your body as if it was his property. You needed him everywhere.

But before that, your gaze drifts down his muscular torso. A torso littered with scars of past trauma and pain. You lift yourself as best as you can, getting slight aid from Six who pulls you up lightly by your forearm. You splay small kisses along each and every scar, the tenderness of the act having Six's mind, heart and dick swelling even more.

"Lay back down, Princess. I need you, okay?" You're quick to comply and Court is quick to guide his cock to your soaking entrance. Your pussy clamps tightly around his cock, drawing him further in. A cracked groan escapes from him.

"You take me so well, baby," His other hand, whether consciously or subconsciously, goes to clamp around your throat, causing you to rut your hips further up against him.

"So. Fucking. Well." Six punctuates each sentence by thrusting his dick further in, all until he cannot help but thrust much more violently into your wet cunt. "T-Tell me when to stop, Princess. You've gotta tell me when it's too much,"

"Shut up and fuck me, Court." You say. And he does. Skin, slapping against skin fills the silence. Outside, the rain pours much more violently, as if rejoicing along with the couple, having finally been reunited.

He wishes to cum everywhere. In your mouth. On those huge fucking tits...

"Fuck, Daddy loves seeing you like this," he says, hand on your throat drifting down and squeezing your breasts. "You're so full, so fucking… mine." That word alone rips a moan and a groan from the both of you.

Your pussy tightens at his words, causing his resolve to snap once again. "You like that? You like being mine don't you."

You're completely cock-drunk, your gaze is filled with nothing but whorish intent as he pounds into you... only spurring him to fuck you faster. "I fucking love it, Daddy," You nod fervently, eyes still completely lost in a daze, "I fucking love it all."

"You'd do anything I want right now, wouldn't you? My princess is so fucked out, so fucking beautiful." You nod mindlessly, far too focused on the tip of his cock finding that soft cushiony tissue inside your tightening walls.

"Open your mouth, baby. Open your mouth for me," and when you thought the sex couldn't get any more obscene... the second you mindlessly open for him, he leans over and spits directly into your mouth, punctuating it with drunk, heated kiss.

"Mine," he murmurs against your lips as his hips begin to falter. "All fucking mine."

"Please, please, please-"

"Cum for me, baby. You don't gotta ask this time. I just wanna feel you milk this cock, okay?" You're nodding profusely as your walls convulse and you're finally pushed over the edge. A cracked moan goes into the air when you cum, Six, of course, not far behind.

He cums where he always does, his very favorite spot. Right inside you. It extends your orgasm by proxy, feeling his seed spill into your pussy.

Nothing at all matters but this moment.

"Fucking, Christ." Six says, finally collapsing beside you with his chest heaving wildly. His hand is still splayed over your front, rubbing slow circles along your breast before ascending over your stomach. "Why are you still up this late?" He asks, still breathing heavily.

"Your child hates it when I rest." You say, pulling an airy chuckle from him.

"That was enough of a workout though." Your eyes flutter shut before you push them open. You wish to prolong this moment, nestled in his arms, bathing in the afterglow, but you're far too comfortable. And when you're comfortable, sleep descends.

"I think I'm gonna be out…" your eyes flutter closed.

"Like a light," he concludes, placing a delicate kiss to the side of your temple before drawing you in further. He continues to rub slow circles around your stomach, feeling his chest tighten with an emotion previously uncanny to him. "Please let your mother rest," Six smiles and says, "Little monster."

<3

HES BACK BABY

One Blink

Summary: For him it was just a moment, for you it was five years

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rating: G

Warnings: Angst, pregnancies, little more angst, some fluff too

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified when I post a new story

He didn’t know what was different, but something had changed. In one moment he had been in the kitchen with you, drying the plates you had been cleaning on a late sunday morning, the next moment he was alone. 

It was colder too. The noises in the city were different. 

There was something in the air. A buzz he had never felt before.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his tongue running over his lips while his hands brushed over the counter of his kitchen. He tilted his head. 

The counter was different too. 

Marble maybe. Definitely some stone. Not like the wooden cheap counter that had been here before. 

Slowly he took a couple steps out of the kitchen, focusing on his surroundings. 

He could still smell you. Your familiar scent. He smelled the fabric softener the two of you had argued about, before he gave in, not being able to deny you anything. 

But there was something else. Another scent he couldn’t place.

The apartment was different too. 

Starting from the kitchen counter, the electrical hum of the appliances different than they were only moments ago. 

It smelled like the walls had been painted. But not recently, a little while ago. 

Another step forward, his hands grasped the back of a couch. Not the leather couch he was used to, no this felt soft. Almost like velvet. 

He was… confused. And that was putting it mildly. 

It was why he hadn’t heard someone, you, approaching the apartment, your key unlocking the door, your heels clicking on the floor as you rushed into the apartment, because things were happening and maybe, maybe he would be….

“Matt,” you gasped, blinking your eyes that were already watering. Slowly he turned around to you and you sobbed, your hand covering your mouth. 

He was wearing the dark sweatpants and the white shirt from that morning. 

The morning that had changed your life so significantly. 

The morning he disappeared. 

“Sweetheart I….” he began but you crossed the distance between the two of you, almost throwing yourself against him as you hugged him. He caught you with a gasp, his strong arms pulling you closer and you cried into his shirt as his hand slowly ran up and down your back, humming soothingly. 

You had denied yourself even imagining a possibility where you would see him again. 

Five years. 

Five years he had been gone, just like half of the earth's population.

Five years that had been the hardest, saddest and at the same time best time of your life. 

“What is going on?” he asked and you took some deep breaths, calming yourself down to finally look up at him, his eyes unfocused.

“You… You’ve been gone. I was… I was with Foggy in the office when Karen suddenly was just there and I… I ran back home… I….”

“You ran from the office?” he asked.

“We… It’s… It’s another office,” you closed your eyes, letting your head fall against his chest, inhaling the scent that was just him. 

“I don’t understand. I… Something’s changed. We were in the kitchen and then you were suddenly gone and… everything is different?”

You let your fingertips run over his back as you looked up at him. 

“Something happened and you… You were gone. You just… You disappeared right before my eyes. But now you’re back and I… I have so much to tell you Matty…” 

“I was gone?” he asked quietly. You nodded against him.

“How long?”

You sucked on your bottom lip. 

“Five years.”

You told him what happened. 

About Thanos. About how the world mourned for months before slowly it moved on. 

You told him about Karen disappearing too and about how you had started working with Foggy.

You had told him about finally getting your lawyers degree and about how good the office was doing. 

You told him everything. 

Except the one, most important thing. 

Sitting cuddled next to him on the new couch, which he admitted was way more comfortable than the one you had before, you clung to him. 

A part of you afraid that he could disappear again at any moment. 

It was when you received a message from Foggy, that he would be over in ten minutes, that you knew you had to tell him. 

“There’s something else you’re not telling me,” he said, pulling you closer towards him. 

“There is,” you whispered. 

“You… You met someone…” he began but you shook your head, sitting yourself up. 

“No. No I… I haven’t met anyone. I haven’t been with anyone since you… Since you…. I couldn’t….” you rambled and he pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

“It’s okay,” he kissed your neck and you shuddered, closing your eyes as you put your arms around his shoulders, your nose in his hair. 

“I had bought the test to take later that day. The day you… disappeared. And after I was so depressed I forgot about it. But Foggy noticed and took me to see a doctor and… I… I was pregnant Matt.”

He stilled beneath you, his hands on your hips, his lips frozen against your neck. 

A tear ran down your check and into his hair. 

“It was hard. Doing this without you. But… she made it worth it. So worth it. And Foggy was a big help. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s the best uncle on the planet and Rose is… She’s so much like you. Stubborn and…”

“Rose?” he asked, his voice breaking and you pulled away from him so you could look at him. There were tears in his eyes before he pulled you against him and you felt him sob. You whimpered as you cried with him, clinging to him as you both mourned the time the both of you had missed. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he shook his head and you put your hands on his face, tilting it up to your. Carefully you brushed his tears away as you shook your head. 

“It’s not your fault, baby. Billions of people disappeared. I know the last thing you would do was leave me and our life. Not after we fought so hard for it and… and I found the ring,” you whispered the last part and he sighed, closing his eyes. 

“We can… We can talk later, if you want. I will tell you about everything but… But Foggy is coming over. And he’s gonna have Rose with him. He offered to pick her up from Daycare after we… after I left to find you.”

“He just got into the elevator,” Matt hummed. 

“Does she… Does Rose… Know about me?” he asked and you smiled. 

“Of course she does. I talk about you every single day Matty. There are so many pictures of you and me on the walls. You’re her daddy. She loves you.”

He took a deep breath as you let your forehead fall against his, your nose rubbing against his nose. 

“She… She’s telling Foggy about… Dinosaurs?” he asked with a small smile.

“She’s obsessed with Dinosaurs at the moment,” you chuckled and Matt’s smile got wider. 

“Kiss me,” you whispered and he tilted his head up, his nose brushing against yours. His hands on your back pulled you closer before his lips softly found yours. You breathed out, closing your eyes as he moved his lips against yours, deepening the kiss. 

You let your finger run through his hair, anchoring yourself against him. 

He was here. 

He was back. 

Matt was back. 

Parting from your lips he smiled and you pecked his lips again. 

You both jumped when a knock sounded at the door. His fingers dig into your hips as he licked over his lips. Anxiously. 

“She loves you,” you reminded him and he breathed in deeply. 

“And I love you too,” you said and he smiled a little, before you carefully climbed off his lap and walked towards the door. 

“I love you,” he called after you and you smiled as you opened the door.

“Hi!” you said, looking down at Rose who hugged you with a squeal of Mooooommy before you picked her up with a groan. 

“You’re getting too big for me to pick you up like that little lady,” you smiled at her as she began to tell you about her day. You looked at Foggy who looked over your shoulder, tears stinging in his eyes as he saw Matt behind you in the apartment. 

“Do you… Want to come in Foggy?” you asked. He looked at you before he shook his head. 

“I… Karen and I will come over with breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“Yeah. It’s… I’ve gone five years without him, I can last another day. But you two can’t,” he said and you smiled thankfully at him. 

“Bye Uncle Foggy,” Rose waved and Foggy laughed. 

“Bye Princess,” he winked before he turned around, taking the stairs down. You smiled at your daughter as you closed the door behind him, slowly walking back towards the living room with her still in your arms, where Matt was standing anxiously. 

“Rose I… have a surprise for you,” you began and she looked at you with wide eyes, stopping her monologue about the Velociraptor she had learned today, making a mental note to ask her about it later. 

“Surprise?” she asked and you nodded. 

“Remember when Foggy and Mommy would talk about your Daddy and that he had to go away for a while?”

She nodded. 

“What did we tell you?” you asked, finding Matt listening to you. 

“That he loves us very much and that he would never leave us again when he comes back,” she said. You nodded, setting her down. 

“He… He came back today, sweetheart,” you whispered and she looked at you with a bright smile.

“Really?” she asked and you nodded. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, really,” Matt said and she turned around as she heard his voice. She looked at you, before you set her down. You were crying by the moment she ran towards him and Matt had the foresight to get on his knees and open his arms before she collided with him with a squeal. 

He closed his eyes, pulling her into his arms as he brushed his hand over her hair and picked her up. She was clinging to him like a Koala, telling him how much she had missed him and that she can’t wait to show him her collection of dinosaurs which made you choke on your sob as you laughed. Matt looked up and opened his arm for you, pulling you against him too. 

It was almost 1 am when the door to the bedroom opened. You were sitting against the back of your bed, waiting for Matt as he slowly walked in, closing the door behind him with a smile on his lips. His hair was still wet as he walked towards the bed, laying down on top of you with a sigh that made you giggle. 

Rose had spent the whole afternoon showing him around the apartment, explaining where everything was so he would know, because she knew that his daddy was blind and she did not want him to hurt himself, while you were making dinner. 

It was strangely domestic. 

“This was a long day,” he hummed against you as you nodded, your finger brushing through his hair. 

“Normally you would kiss me goodbye and get out to do some Deviling now,” you mused and he sighed. 

“There’s… I don’t want to think about that now,” he said quietly. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

“She’s… Rose is… She’s everything,” he said and you smiled. 

“Yeah. She’s pretty damn awesome.”

“I wish I could have been there,” he whispered. 

“Me too,” you said sadly, before you reached to your side to turn the lights off. He got off of you and under the covers, finding your body immediately to pull you against him, your back against his chest, as he kissed your shoulder. 

You fell asleep like that. 

In his arms. 

And he was still there, holding you when you woke up the next morning. 

Because Matt was back. 

And he would never leave again. 

Can you write #29 with Tom 🥺

❀ home to you ❀

prompts: (29) “honey, i’m home!”

↳ established relationship, my #1 fantasy in writing, tessa steals the show as usual

word count: 829

note: girl i haven’t written anything in over a month and i’m stressed abt this, lmk what you think 🥺

flufftober drabbles (requests are closed!)

From the first day you and Tom spent in this new home, you’d commented on the annoyingly squeaky front door. It shrieks like a cat under attack at the slightest movement and is the subject of many banters between you two. Not unlike a married couple from a 90s sitcom, both of you refused to be the one to fix it, with Tom contending you should do it as you work from home while he travels, and you arguing he’d promised to do it himself first as he’s already got a background in carpentry. Thankfully, the hectic nature of your lives in the past few months have put this tiff on the backburner.

Now, though, a tiny part of you find yourself glad the door still squeals whenever it’s moved. There’s something about the flash of excitement you get when you hear it, the little frog in your chest that jumps at the realisation that Tom’s home. From your laid down position on the couch, a comforting romance book balanced over your head, your ears pick up on it immediately.

Except tonight, it’s a murmur. Hell, if your ears weren’t practically pointed up like an excited dog’s you probably wouldn’t have heard it. The three words come out faint and tired, drooping from the weight on Tom’s shoulders.

Except tonight, it’s a murmur. Hell, if your ears weren’t practically pointed up like an excited dog’s you probably wouldn’t have heard it. The three words come out faint and tired, drooping from the weight on Tom’s shoulders.

Concerned, you slip a library receipt between the pages of your book and get up, making sure you don’t wake Tessa who’s still sleeping by your feet. With a blanket still wrapped around your figure like a makeshift poncho, you quickly shuffle towards the front door. Tom has just crossed the entrance hallway into the living room, where he nearly bumps into your cocooned figure.

“Hey, darl—”

“What’s wrong?” You cut him off, eyes wide like those of a Disney character.

Perplexed, Tom freezes for a moment before his wonky eyebrow curls to meet the other. “Why, what happened?” He asks, a concerned expression making his thin lips furrow into a tiny little line. You yearn to reach up and kiss it away, but that’s for another time, when your stomach hasn’t dropped to your feet.

“You tell me.” You reply, shrugging off the blanket and wrapping it around your boyfriend’s broad shoulders. “You didn’t say it. Not like you usually do.”

Upon reflex, he burrows into the quilt, sighing as your hands rub up and down his arms. “Love, it’s been a long day, the flight back home was torture. and I have no clue what you’re saying.”

Your mouth twists into a pout and you coo, stepping forward to properly hug your boy. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry you had a tough day.” His arms slither around your waist, a cold hand slipping beneath your shirt to press itself flat against your spine. “Do you want to sit down? Or I can fix you a shower—but you’re probably starving, there’s leftovers in the oven. I’ll warm it up, unless you want to order something fresh—I saw this new shawarma place on—”

The coldness of his palms cupping your cheeks cuts you off, and you blink as you find Tom’s eyes, the corners crinkling tiredly in an endeared smile. “Baby, breathe.” He inhales deeply with you, knowing how easily overwhelmed you get, and you release your breaths together, shoulders relaxing. “I already ate, I’m too tired to shower, and the only thing I need right now,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose, “is my girl.”

Heat blooms in your stomach like a spring garden, and you wrap your arms around him once more, squeezing his torso tightly. With just as much strength, Tom hugs you back, his chin resting on your crown.

“Smooth talker,” you murmur into his overcoat, “you know how much that term affects me. S’not fair.”

His chest vibrates with laughter against your cheek and he gives you a good squeeze just for the sake of it. “How about I make it up to you by volunteering to take your pants off for you and then we see where that goes?”

The sound of his laughter as you step away from him unimpressed wakes Tessa up, and soon enough her short legs flop onto the floor with overexcitement. Colour flushes back into Tom’s skin, and he crouches down to accept the dog’s greeting, one of his hands scratching her ear and the other smoothing down her fur.

“Hi, honey, I’m home.” He coos, grinning as she licks his neck and chin, and you’re pretty if he had a tail, his would be wagging too. “Yes, princess, daddy’s home.”

Deadpan, you glare down at him with your arms crossed. “Bitch…”

I’m seeing people starting to apologize for falling behind on Kinktober.

This goes for those people, and all other writers out there feeling like they’re falling short of content they promised to deliver:

You owe us nothing.

You heard me.

Yes, even if you said you would have something ready today, tomorrow or next month.

You’re writing in your own time, for free, and only you get to decide if and when you’re ready to share it with us.

We’ll be here to read it and celebrate it with you when the time comes.

Okay what about a Bucky x reader where buckys had a long day and the reader can tell so she dresses up like a 40’s pinup girl for him?

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: m in f penetration, handjob, fingering, creampie, eating cum, unprotected sex, slight degredation, praise

a/n: GIRL WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY ASKSSSS YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT!! this idea is so hot god i love it!! thank u so much for requesting

Bad day at work. I’m gonna be home late. I need a drink. A lot of them. Go to sleep without me, I’ll be home later, I just need to be alone. I love you.

You looked at the text on your phone then up to yourself over and over again in nervousness. You wanted to leave him alone, it was what you always did on his bad days when he came home upset. But giving him space never did anything, it only enabled him being upset for days on end, and it was hard for you to watch him struggle.

Today you tried something different. You wanted to make it about him. Everything was about you, what he cooked, what he did, even the bedroom, but not tonight.

You couldn’t help but remember him mentioning what magazines and girls the soldiers looked at back in the war, he even showed you an old magazine Steve had found. He was joking, only trying to show you memories, but the image was burnt in your mind. Solider Buck, hand in pants, starting at the girls he didn’t know in magazines.

Which is why you had on a semi long red dress with white polka dots. It was skin tight on your upper half, accentuating the size of your waist, and and it flowed waist down. It matched well with your red lipstick and soft makeup, along with your lightly curled hair.

You look like a girl in an old magazine.

When the door opened, you knew that was it, there was no turning back. You stayed still, trying not to let your overthinking get the best of you. You stayed seated on the counter, eating chocolate you had from a week back that Bucky brought for you.

His eyes were on the floor, but he tilted his head up at the realization of your presence, his eyes widening. He wanted to feel confused, but he was too amazed to feel it. You looked perfect, sprawled out on the kitchen island in a little 50s dress for him, “What are you wearing?”

“I found this in my closet,” you lied, knowing damn well you bought it days prior to surprise him. You dangled your legs over the edge of the counter, watching Bucky get closer, “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he answered embarrassingly quickly, “You look beautiful.”

“I wanted to look pretty for you,” you smiled, grabbing chocolate from the tray and grabbing his arm to pull him closer. You grabbed his face with one hand and used your other to gently put the chocolate to his mouth. He opened his mouth slightly and grabbed the chocolate from your hand, watching you suck the residue off your fingers, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he smiled, not sure how to react. He was so used to silence and solitude when he had a hard day at work or on a mission, but this was a different feeling for him.

“How was work?”

“Bad,” he scoffed, brushing the hair from your face, “No body got hurt or anything, it was just a mistake I made. I kept insisting on something and it turned out I was wrong and we all just argued. It was annoying.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” you frowned, leaning in to press a kiss to his frowned lips, “Maybe I could make you feel better.”

His eyebrows furrowed but quickly raised in realization when you grabbed the belt loops on his pants to tug him closer, “I just want to take care of my favorite soldier.”

He looked speechless, mouth slightly agape in hesitance. He wanted to, God, in your outfit he wanted nothing more than that, but he was so used to the bedroom always being about you. He loved it that way, he loved making every move about making you shake beneath him, it was all he wanted to know. But your offer was tempting, “Let me take care of you.”

He nodded softly, his eyes glistening as you went in to press a kiss to the end of his jaw, then prickle more to his neck. You sucked on his neck softly as you gripped the bottom of his shirt, which he was quick to remove. He grabbed your waist and kept you planted on the counter as he closed his eyes, enjoying your assault on his neck.

You jumped off the counter, standing in front of him and having him slightly press you into the counter. You kissed lower onto his chest, then took it upon yourself to kiss all the way down to his happy trail. When you reached it, you pressed your tongue flat against his abs and licked up, all the way to his neck and kissing his lips. He was quick to stick his tongue in your throat, which you accepted for only a moment before getting onto your knees.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Bucky mumbled, hoping you’d continue. He took your light scoff and continuations as a yes.

You unbuttoned his pants and grabbed them, pulling them slowly down his legs. You were quicker to grab his boxers and pull them down, revealing what you wanted. All ten inches of him stood straight up, tapping his stomach as your gingers grazed the base.

He grabbed the counters as you began stroking him underneath the table and gave him soft kisses, “What’s got you so hard, Buck?”

“You,” he responded fast, his breath uneven, “Your dress, fuck— You look so beautiful. If I saw you back in the 50s, I would’ve thought you were the most perfect girl I’d ever seen, just like now.”

You stood up and continued jerking him off, turning so you were in front of him. You wanted to see his face. You kissed his neck as you jerked faster, “Where would you have taken me on a date back then?”

“The movies, for sure,” he threw his head back as you collected spit on your palm and jerked him off stronger than before, “We would have kissed in the back— Fuck, that feels good— Taken you to get food after.”

“What would happen after the date?”

He realized what you were getting at as he closed his eyes, just imagining it, “Usually I’d wait to go back to my house, but I wouldn’t be able to wait with you— Oh, god, oh, jesus— I-I’d put you in the back of my car and shove my face in you, ruin you until you could never fuck another man again.”

He took a deep breath and let out a drawn out moan, his eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as you sped up, “I’d put you on top of me, let you ride me until you got what you wanted out of it. I’d fuck you so good.”

You felt yourself getting wetter at his words, and it was driving Bucky’s super senses insane, “I can smell you, fuck.”

He grabbed your waist and seperated you from him. He wanted to be delicate, but how could he when you looked so perfect? He found the buttons and accidentally broke a few, but undid them as fast as he could. He took no time to take the dress off of you, his breath stopping at the black lacy bra that had underwear to match. He put his hand out to trace the lace along the underwear, his hand stopping at your crotch. He cupped it slightly before you backed away, “This is about you, stop.”

“Don’t starve a man,” he whined, his eyes furrowing in desperation. He picked you up and sat you on the counter, spreading your legs as he watched you shake your head at his request, “Baby, do you want me to go crazy? I can’t cum until I eat you, be nice. I just want a little, just for a minute, okay? Then you can do whatever you want to me.”

“You’re like a starved dog, jesus,” you mocked, scoffing at him and letting him spread your legs. He always got what he wanted, and as good as it felt, you wanted to focus on him.

“You asked what I would have done to you in the forties?” He asked, sticking his hand into your underwear and rubbing you slowly, moving your wetness around to lube everything up, “I would have left that little dress on, and made you sit on my face. I’d want your smell on me for days so anytime I did anything, I’d think about what it felt like for you to hump my face.”

You breathed slowly at his confession, grinding onto his hand. He inserted two fingers, watching your mouth open as he did so. He stopped his fingers to let you adjust before moving them again, “You can’t even take my fingers— How am I gonna fit?”

His mocking tone was sending you over the edge, making your eyes close as he fingered you more rapidly, “What? Does that get you off? Me having to stuff you so full cause I barely fit?”

You moaned at his words, nodding rapidly as he fingered you at a quicker pace, “Look at you— Spread out for me with your slutty lace underwear— You look so fucking hot.”

He always made things about you when you did things, but he knew tonight you wanted him to get pleasure out of it all. He did something he was hesitant to do, but God did it feel good.

He rubbed himself slowly against your thigh as he fingered you, grinding on you like a dog in heat. You looked down, letting out the most unbelievable moan at the sight, making his eyes widen, “When you moan like that, I swear I could cum just humping you like a teenager.”

You arched your back and grabbed his arm, shaking your head, “Bucky, just fuck me, please.”

He removed his hand from your underwear and stuck his fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as he closed his eyes, licking up every drop he could, “You taste so good, look.”

He brought his fingers to your mouth and watched you take them in, tasting yourself. You hallowed your cheeks around him as he spoke, “You look like such a whore like this— Tasting yourself on my fingers. You’re meant to be fucked when you taste that good.”

He grabbed your underwear and turned it to the side, keeping on the sexy lace as he ran his dick over your wetness, making your body shiver. He stuck his head inside of you, then was slow to stick the rest of him in as well. When he was fully buried, he waited til you looked adjust to flip the both of you over, so you straddled his waist, “Ride me.”

You lifted yourself up before planting yourself back down, “Bucky— You’re so deep, fuck.”

You kept bouncing up and down, the sight of your tits jumping with you sending Bucky into overdrive, “I want you to cum inside me, Bucky, please.”

His eyes clenched shut at your words as he nodded, nearly busting at the words you just said, “I’ll fuck all my cum into you, baby, I promise.”

“Take what you want, milk me, God,” he moaned as you grinded on him, spelling your name with your hips. You grabbed your own chest, grabbing your nipples through your bra, “You’re so worked up, look at you— Greedy and fucked out— I could just fuck you whenever I wanted cause you’re always so wet for me.”

You nodded, bouncing faster and leaning down a bit to look at him, “You should— Fuck me whenever you want. When I’m cooking, showering, reading, just come and fuck me. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“You sound like such a slut when you say that,” his eyebrows knit together, his hand coming to yo ur face. You grabbed his thumb and stuck it in your mouth, “You’re so unreal.”

Your body winced as you continued riding him, “I’m cumming, oh god, oh my fucking god—“

“Cum for me,” he mumbled, knowing he was on edge too. You moaned before you collapsed on him, but right when you did, you felt something in you happen.

He let go and you felt ropes of cum endlessly paint your insides. It was never ending, the serum had made him cum for minutes on end. You were getting so full of cum, “Bucky, you’re filling me up so much, it’s leaking.”

“Take it,” he moaned, feeling the last few drops leak out of you as he pulled out.

He flipped you on your back, his eyes now on your lower half. He nearly came again at the sight of your wet pussy leaking his cum, it was dripping out so much.

He put his finger inside of you, shoving all the cum left into you harder. You shivered at the sudden overstimulation he was causing since you just came, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t waste any,” he smirked, taking his finger out and grabbing all the cum that had dripped out and bringing it to your mouth. You took it all, drinking his cum off his fingers as you grabbed his hand, looking at him.

“I want you to cum again— But in my mouth this time.”

Diplomatic Negotiations Masterlist

Status: Ongoing!

Pairing: Teacher!Ari Levinson x Student!Reader

Summary: Newly dumped and freshly fucked by a handsome stranger you met at a bar, you start your final year at college in high spirits. Only to realize that your new teacher in your Diplomatic Negotiations class, is none other than the guy you had an amazing one night stand with.

Series warnings: Fluff, smut, angst. Large age gap (Ari is late thirties, reader is in her early twenties). College AU, secret relationship, teacher/student relationships, shitty exes, alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of being hungover.

Smut warnings for this series (more will be added accordingly): Daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of sub space, size kink, spitting kink, praise, dumbification, degradation, public, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, thigh riding, choking, spanking, anal.

Main Parts

Preparation*

Discussion

Bargain*

Proposal*

Part 2*

Rebuttal

Clarification*

Part 2*

Justification*

Part 2*

Settled

Drabbles

Ari bends you over his desk*

Cockwarming Teacher!Ari while you study*

Ari grading papers in bed

to noise making ; steve rogers.

track six of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; steve rogers x mutant!gn!reader

synopsis ; pure silence never sat well with steve. it reminded him of all the time he had lost frozen in ice. so when he heard your loose, disjointed hums coming from the compound’s kitchen, he came seeking your voice out more and more.

words ; 4.5k

themes ; fluff, mild angst

warnings / includes ; mild cursing, implications of depression/ptsd but not explicit, descriptions of injury/blood, a mention of a toxic ex, one mention of biological warfare, reader is a mutant with the ability to manipulate matter, reader calls steve 'old man' and he calls them 'sweetheart' once, reader and tony are best friendos, this fic is basically a huge FUCK YOU to steve's ending in endgame, a kiss !! that tony rudely interrupts, mildly an avengers tower-reminiscent fic bcs they're my found family okay </3

main masterlist. set in the same universe as: blue jeans.

Silence accompanied Steve everywhere he went. 

It followed him through his morning—when he rose so early even the birds hadn’t started their day yet. When he went out for a quick jog, his shoes nearly mute against the sidewalk’s smooth concrete.When he showered with frigidly cold water right after, he stared wordlessly at the ground as the iridescent soap suds ran down his skin into the drain. 

It followed him through his afternoon—when he filled out paperwork for the latest recon mission. When he played a quiet game of Uno with Bucky over the kitchen counter during lunch. When he went outside, where the curious stares of strangers seemed to grow exponentially with each ticking second, and phone cameras were shoved into his face not two yards out the door. 

It followed him through the night—when he went on a blind date set up by Natasha, the dinner largely consisted of uncomfortable pauses, mostly because they really had nothing in common, and she’d also mentioned she wasn’t all that into blondes. When he later took his motorcycle out for a drive, stopping by an empty bridge to stare down at the river rushing by. When he slid into bed with naught a sound, digging his fist into his eyes until he hallucinated bright colors behind his eyelids. 

Pure silence never sat well with Steve. It reminded him of all the time he had lost frozen in ice. All the time that had slipped right between his fingers like fine grains of sand.

That morning was as ordinary as ever. He brushed his teeth. Ran a comb through his flaxen hair. Changed into his jogging clothes. Tied his shoes. And he slipped out of the compound, off for his daily run. 

When he came back, he was surprised to see Tony striding out of the kitchen—he wasn’t usually up this early. 

“Dishwasher’s broken,” the brunette told him, sipping a large mug of dark coffee as he stroked his stubble with his other hand. “Remind me to get that fixed, will you?”

Steve blinked, then nodded.

Satisfied, Tony bid him adieu with no more than a limp wave as he shuffled past him, off to the compounds laboratory. 

The rest of the day slid by as quiet as ever—paperwork, filing, having lunch with Natasha at a secluded Italian cafe, mission debrief with Sam, more paperwork, listening to Bucky complain about his cat scratching up his favorite henley, and finally, deciding he was hungry enough to make dinner. 

He rose out of his chair, stretching with a soft groan as his bones popped with the movement. Then, Steve made his way out of his room, making a bee-line for the kitchen. He wasn’t at all surprised to see the compound’s living room empty—Sam had left for Louisiana to visit his sister, Natasha was off on an impromptu mission with Clint, Tony was doing god knows what in his lab, and Bucky was busy reprimanding Alpine for destroying his most prized article of clothing.

With everybody gone, it should’ve been quiet. 

But it wasn’t.

Much to Steve’s mild surprise and curiosity, he could hear somebody in the kitchen. 

Who could it be? Bruce? No—Bruce had flown off to Switzerland for some sort of fancy science convention. Thor? It was possible, but probably not—the Norse god would’ve barged into his room asking how to use the microwave for the millionth time by now. 

Steve heard the clatter of pots. The sound of boiling liquid. A displeased noise, quietly followed by a frantic mutter, “Oh, too much, too much!” He heard water trickling down the drain.

Then, the humming started. It was loose and disjointed, following the tune of a song for a couple seconds at a time before taking a lengthy pause, only to pick up an entirely new melody a minute later.

It took him a moment to realize that lingering in the dark hallway whilst listening intently to someone in the kitchen was rather creepy, so Steve reared himself out of his thoughts and stepped into the light. 

Of course it was you. You were more or less new to the compound—a long-time, trusted friend of Tony’s from all the way back when he first built his Iron Man suit. You were recently brought onto the team due to your mutant abilities, uncanny intelligence, and Tony’s undeniable fondness for you. Besides that, Steve knew very little about you: he knew you were around the same age as him (at least the same age as when he was frozen), he knew you were a genius physicist, he knew you had the power to manipulate matter around you (which made you an excellent asset to the team), and he recalled Scott once mentioning that you were allergic to styrofoam. 

Steve assumed that the last one had been a joke. 

“Oh!” Your startled voice echoed across the kitchen at the sight of him. “Oh, it’s just you.”

An eyebrow raised closer to his hairline. “Just me? Who did you think it was?”

You appeared embarrassed for a moment, waving a spatula in the air. “Well, I may or may not have stolen Tony’s top secret models for his next version of the suit—just because I was curious how much he was going to spend on it, you know? I figured he’d come storming in accusing me of theft.”

A smile graced Steve’s lips. “Well, knowing Tony, I don’t think he’ll notice anytime soon. He hasn’t left the lab in hours.”

You shook your head fondly with a part hum, part scoff, before turning back to the stove, mixing the large pot full of red sauce. The air was saturated with the scent of simmering tomatoes and aromatic herbs—basil and oregano, Steve mused, were probably two of his most favorite things since coming out of the ice. They certainly didn’t have flavors like those back in the forties. Everything was far too bland and excessively moist back then. 

“I’m making vegan spaghetti,” you said, snapping him out of his mouth-watering daze. “I’d be happy to fix a plate for you.”

A polite protest was on the tip of his tongue—Steve was planning on quickly microwaving a frozen pizza before heading off to do some more work. Just as he began to voice this, his stomach rumbled loudly in betrayal, and a grimace etched over his mouth. A wave of heat seeped through his skin, tinting his face a subtle shade of scarlet. 

Much to his relief, you merely grinned brightly, smothering a laugh by biting down on your bottom lip in amusement. “I’ll take that as a yes,” you quipped, ladleing spoonfuls of sauce into two bowls of steaming spaghetti noodles. “Take a seat.”

Complying, Steve gingerly sat at the kitchen table, resting his hand atop the smooth glass. “Can I ask you something?”

A smile danced across your mouth. “I believe you just did, Cap.” You chuckled mildly before gesturing for him to carry on.

“If you’ve got powers, why are you…”

“Cooking? I guess I just like to do things organically sometimes,” you replied easily, sprinkling herbs on top of the spaghetti before bringing the steaming bowls towards the table. “It’s cathartic.”

Steve thought to all the times he broke the sandbags in the gym—the satisfying thud of completion. He supposed he understood what you meant.

The dish in front of him was wafting with a fragrance that made his stomach twist painfully with hunger. 

“Dig in,” you said, gesturing to his serving as you started twirling the noodles around with a fork. “And to elaborate on your question, I’ve made food using my powers before—but it just tastes different. Like it isn’t the same if I didn’t measure out the ingredients, waited for the water to boil, or chopped up the veggies. It feels almost as if I’m cheating, you know?”

Steve tilted his head in thought. “That’s an interesting way to put it,” he said with a small smile, before forking some spaghetti into his mouth. “How’d you find out about your powers?”

The light-hearted atmosphere about you seemed to thin away at his question. Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth as you considered his question for a moment before responding. “It was an accident. A bad one. My ex… he was a real dick—excuse my language—and this one time one of our fights got out of hand. He started raising his palm like he was going to hit me. He wasn’t going to, by the way, he was just reaching for his phone behind me. But I panicked—and all of a sudden a shard of glass materialized right through his hand.”

Steve’s brows rose. He shoveled more spaghetti into his mouth.

“There was blood dripping all over the floor. We were both silent at first. Then, he started screaming. Luckily, we had a first aid kit in our bathroom. I bound his palm and drove him to the hospital—he was fine. No permanent damage.”

You sipped on some water, swallowing heavily.

“Are you guys still…?” 

“Oh, definitely not.” You chuckled bitterly. “He never wanted to speak to me ever again. Called me a freak. A mutant.”

It was brief, but Steve could see the insecurity meld across your features, shattering through your otherwise bubbly persona. 

“Well, he was an idiot. It was an accident, right? Accidents happen,” Steve quietly put forth. “And for what it’s worth, I think your powers are extraordinary. I mean, you can conjure up practically anything you want! That’s just… incredible.”

Warmth stained your insides golden as you pushed away a smile. “Thanks, Steve. Your powers aren’t too bad either—fast healing, enhanced strength. You’re quite the package.”

A generous smattering of crimson spread over his cheekbones. “Well, I’d have to thank Doctor Erskine for that. He was the one that invented the super serum—and chose for me to be the test subject. Because he believed in me.” There was a distant, reminiscent sadness to his eyes. You knew of Erskine, he was plastered across practically every American history textbook. 

“I’m sorry he died so soon,” you mumbled. “He seemed like a great man.”

“He was,” Steve said, nodding. He regarded you for a moment, briefly wondering just why it was so easy to talk to you when the two of you had barely spoken before this. The blonde across from you cleared his throat. “Thinking about him always gets me strangely nostalgic. I dream about the forties sometimes… my terrible childhood, my creaky apartment, my first love, … life before the war—before all of this. Sometimes I wonder—if I was given the chance to go back, would I?”

Your fork stopped halfway to your face. “Would you?” you asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted, rather shamefully. “I don’t think I would. I mean, I’ve got my family here. Bucky, Sam, Natasha—they mean the world to me. I think I just feel… guilty about it all? Like when you mentioned using magic sometimes feels like your cheating at something. I feel like I cheated my own death. It feels unfair. When I look at Bucky—I feel like I betrayed him.”

“Oh, Steve.” You were shaking your head, reaching across the table to gently grasp one of his hands. Your palm was warm atop his frigid one. “I know how that feels—like you don’t deserve a place in the world because you’re different. But I promise it gets better. None of that was your fault. You’ll move on, with time. Plus, you’ve got a great support system here. I know we haven’t been the closest of friends but I’m certainly willing to lend an ear whenever you want me to.”

It mildly surprised him when he felt disappointment unfurl within his chest when you retracted your touch.

“That…” Steve released a small sigh, relaxing his muscles that he didn’t even realize were tense. “That means a lot, Y/N. Thanks. I haven’t really told anybody this because I thought it’d just… go away eventually. I don’t like the quiet. I hate it, in fact. The silence always reminds me of all the time I spent in the ice—how I cheated death. It leaves me with my own thoughts and makes me realize just how… unsatisfied I am. I’m not happy with myself when everything around me is quiet.”

He swallowed down another twirl of spaghetti, now cold and thick in his throat.

A part of him was afraid he’d scare you away with this confession. After all, it was a lot to dump on the first conversation with someone he had a lot of respect for.

Instead of finishing the rest of your spaghetti as quickly as you could and running away from him like Steve partially expected you’d do, you merely smiled at him, a newfound understanding reflected in your eyes. “Then I’ll make sure never to be quiet around you,” you said, genuine tenderness woven between each word.

Steve’s stomach lurched at that.

The rest of the dinner went by filled with stories of how you mastered your powers, stories of Steve finding out Bucky was still alive after all these years, stories of how you met Tony long, long ago.

It was safe to say, silence was nowhere near the two of you that night. 

You were humming again. Steve could hear you from down the hall. It’d been a couple of weeks since that first dinner with you—with dozens more sprinkled in between. The two of you were practically attached by the hip after that. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He wandered into the kitchen with his hands behind his back, coming beside you at the sink, where you were washing the dishes (which reminded him that he forgot to remind Tony to fix the dishwasher). 

“Can I help?” he asked, unclasping his hands and extending one towards you.

Without breaking off your humming, you handed him a damp plate whilst gesturing to a rag for him to use to dry. Steve caught sight of your bright grin from his peripheral vision. He ducked his head bashfully, pulse kicking up a notch. Your hip bumped into his, and the two of you quietly chuckled. 

No words were exchanged between the two of you then, the only thing filling the silence between you was your disjointed hums to songs that Steve didn’t know.

“What song are you humming?” The scratching of Steve’s pencil against paper momentarily stopped in the middle of drawing a sketch of a bowl of fruits on the coffee table in front of him as he tentatively asked the question. 

You looked away from your book propped up on your legs, which were carelessly thrown over Steve’s on the compound’s couch. His free hand was splayed largely on your knee—but you pretended not to notice.

“Huh?” you asked, having not heard his question properly, preoccupied with the story you were reading.

“You’re always humming the same song,” Steve said. “Well, parts of that song.”

“Oh!” Placing the book down, you shifted around so you could reach for your phone in your pocket. “It’s this sixties song called Summer Wine by Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood. One of my all time favorites.” 

You pressed the play button on your phone screen and Steve listened along, enjoying the softness of Nancy’s voice in stark contrast to the slow rasp of Lee’s. He bobbed his head to the song off-beat, but you found it endearing all the same.

“Yeah, that’s it, old man,” you teased, elbowing him in the side and mimicking his movements. Your smile, so wide it seemed to illuminate the entire room, made Steve giddy with excitement. “It’s a good song, isn’t it?”

Steve let out a breathy chuckle. “You know, I was so set on forties music being the best of the best for the longest time—I think you might just be able to change my mind. Don’t tell Bucky I said that, though—he’d skin me alive.”

A genuine gasp fell from your lungs as you lurched forward, grabbing at his hands and leaning in so close he could see his reflections in your enlivened irises. He could smell your perfume, a soft wafting of vanilla and lavender that made his head spin. “Really? Because I have so many more songs I could recommend to you—tell you what, I’ll make you a playlist tonight. Finally introduce you to the world of modern music.” You relinquished your hold on him, moving back with a grand beam. “That might be the nicest compliment anybody’s ever given me, Stevie.”

Steve couldn’t help but feel like you were overexaggerating just to make him happy, but you seemed happy to do so, and how could he ever interfere with that? 

“I don’t know, though,” Steve started, his tone teasing. “Forties music is gonna be really hard to top.”

“It’ll be my mission to find something for you, then,” you said, determined. With that, you picked your book back up and began reading again, humming softly once more. Steve took that as his cue to continue drawing. 

He spared you a glance every once in a while, observing the way the sunlight from the window cast a dewy, honey-like luminescence over your features. The way the sloping curvatures of the shadows on your face enhanced your relaxed state. The way your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip as your pupils flitted to and fro from the book’s pages. He wanted to ask if he could draw you, but the words lodged in his throat, like he had swallowed a large stone.

So he stayed quiet, listening to you hum a song that Steve now knew.

“Steve.”

Natasha crossed her arms.

“Steve.”

She sighed, eyes narrowing. 

“Damn it, Steve!”

Finally, the blonde startled, ripping his headphones off and whirling around in his chair to see Natasha standing a foot away from his desk. He’d been listening to the playlist you had meticulously curated for him, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet when you told him to listen to it.

The annoyance in the green of her eyes dissipated, replaced with mild amusement. “So much for super-hearing, huh?” she snarked, lacking any true bite to her words. Despite her stoic demeanor, she was really glad Steve found someone that made him happier than anybody else ever did. Even though he didn’t know it yet—Natasha saw the way he looked at you. 

Steve scratched the back of his neck bashfully. “Sorry, Nat. How can I help?”

“Y/N just got back from their mission. They’re in the infirmary.”

Immediately, he stood up, chair squeaking at the abrupt movement, eyebrows furrowing. “Infirmary? Are they hurt? What’re they doing back so early? The mission was supposed to be take an entire week, that’s what—”

“Relax, Rogers,” Natasha sternly asserted, effectively cutting him off. “Just doing a check-up—they were exposed to some radioactive material but it should be fine.” In a much softer tone, she added on, “Y/N was asking for you.”

Breath hitching in his throat, Steve nodded and a quiet thank you left his lips as he jogged out of his room. 

The few minutes of silence as he rushed to the infirmary did nothing good for his worrying. He passed by a pretty bruised-up Clint lounging across the waiting seats, pressing an ice cube to a gash on his forehead, and gestured to the double doors across from him. He knew of Steve’s budding relationship with you (because Natasha made it her personal mission to embarrass the poor guy) and could only assume that he’d come rushing here for you. The polished floors squeaked under his shoes as he came to a sudden halt, briefly saluting Clint thanks before knocking twice. Before he got a response, he slowly pushed the doors open, peeking his head in.

You were seated on the edge of the hospital bed, still in your mission’s attire, hair rumpled and a bit of dried blood on the side of your jaw, but you looked to be otherwise just fine. Doctor Cho was beside you, tapping her pen against a clipboard as she took note of your blood pressure. 

“Hey, old man. Long time no see,” you said with a toothy grin when you heard the door creak open. “You missed the funniest thing on the mission. There was this—”

Steve strode forward, and before you could finish your sentence, he knelt down and enveloped you into a tight embrace, nose pressing against the crown of your head. 

Your words were muffled into his shirt, which eventually died away when you noticed that he clearly was too emotional to listen to your amusing story of how Clint tripped on a big rock and cut his head. He smelled so good, like clean laundry and those tree-scented car fresheners. Steve barely registered Doctor Cho shifting awkwardly and excusing herself out of the room, entirely fixated by the way your arm loosely curled around his shoulders as you hugged him back.

“Whose blood is that?” he asked without pulling away from you.

“Not mine,” you assured him.

“Nat told me you were asking for me,” said the blonde, gingerly pulling away from you to meet your eyes. His hand went under your chin to tilt your head around, as if reaffirming that you were perfectly fine. “Exposed to radioactive material? What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Looks like someone missed me,” you laughed at his mother henning, bringing your hand up to wrap around his, holding it close to your chest. “The wrong kind of people were trying to steal stuff that could potentially be used for biological warfare—we intercepted, but one of the cases broke and I had to use my powers to forge a new one. I was only exposed for a couple seconds, but it was enough to warrant a check up. We had to back off because they were in possession of the last case and threatened to drop it into the city’s main water supply.”

Steve’s brows knitted together as you spoke. “We gotta go stop them, then—”

“They think they have the last case,” you said, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips.

“You used your powers to make a fake,” Steve whispered in realization. “You’re a genius.”

Waving away his praise, you leaned forward, gripping him tighter. “Enough about that! Did you listen to the playlist?”

His chest rumbled as he laughed. You had just gotten back from a dangerous mission and you were asking about him. 

“I was around halfway through,” he said, grinning softly.

“Guess you’ll just have to listen to the rest with me,” you quipped, craning your neck to swiftly kiss his cheek. When you pulled back just a little, you did it ever so slowly, hovering close enough so that your noses brushed against one another. 

Heat flushed across his face. His heart palpitated painfully against his ribcage. His stormy eyes flickered down to glance at your lips, then moved up again to meet your eyes. All he saw was you.

“You can kiss me, Stevie,” you mumbled against him, giving him the green light he was waiting for. “I promise I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that. I mean, you’re a super soldier, would you even feel th—mmh!”

That spurred him to shift forward, capturing your lips with his and effectively interrupting your thoughts before he could get any more flustered, foreheads bumping against one another. After recovering from your initial shock, you tugged him closer by the lapels of his shirt, tilting your head to the side so he could fold into you ever so perfectly. It felt as if a fire was crawling around his veins, consuming him entirely. Your skin was cold against his, quelling the burning sensation dancing over his skin. 

You smiled into the mouth, laughing against his lips when he drifted his fingers up your side. “That tickles,” you murmured, pressing butterfly kisses on the corners of his lips and the tip of his nose. 

Steve couldn’t help it. He began laughing as well, muffled when you slapped his tickling hands away, kissing him harder.

The two of you stayed that way for what felt like hours—breaths turned ragged and chests heaving, when really it was only about five minutes. By the stroke of the sixth minute, Tony strode into the infirmary room uttering, “Knockity knock knock,” despite not knocking.

“Woah!” he exclaimed upon seeing the two of you in such… close proximities. “Took you two long enough. Barnes owes me twenty bucks. And, Jesus, hang a sock on the door, Rogers! I know you’re old, and not at all accustomed to the sexual customs of our generation, but I do not want to see my recently-radiated best friend swap spit with you.”

You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. “Nice to see you, too, Tony. And yeah, your recently-radiated friend is just peachy, thanks for asking!”

Tony glared at you. “Please, if you weren’t ‘just peachy’ Rogers wouldn’t be shoving his tongue down your throat.” Steve looked like he wanted to object, but he cleared his throat and diverted his gaze to the floor instead. Tony barked out a laugh, rotating on his heel to head back out. “Good to see you’re okay, kid. Remember to wrap it before you tap it!”

As soon as he was gone, Steve groaned, dropping his head against your chest, flustered beyond relief. 

“Does he always have to be so crass?” he asked, wrinkling his nose with embarrassment. 

“That’s Tony for you.” You shook your head with amusement. Then, your voice a notch softer, you asked, “Hey, Stevie?”

He hummed in response, lifting his head to look at you.

“You remember when you said you weren’t sure if you’d want to go back to the forties or not?”

Steve blinked in mild surprise. “Yeah?”

Your expression betrayed your clear hesitance as you swallowed uncomfortably. “Do you think you’d go now?”

“No, sweetheart,” he whispered, bending closer so his nose brushed yours. “I’d never leave you. Not ever. I wasn’t going to leave in the first place, because I could never leave my friends and family here. But you… you make me feel not guilty for being happy. Like I deserve a life of my own—with you. And I think the quiet becomes more bearable when you’re around me. I don’t think so much of the past with you because… well, because I’m thinking of our future.”

A heartbreakingly bright smile painted your lips golden, and you shook your head fondly. It might’ve just been a trick of the infirmary’s painfully artificial lights, but he could’ve sworn he saw the glimmering film of tears briefly gloss over your eyes. “Did you just come up with that on the spot?” The two of you laughed into each other, and you pressed a gentle kiss just under his eyes. “You’re something else, Stevie, I’ll tell you that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, unable to stop smiling, before capturing your grin with his once more.

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