Y/N and Steve find themselves in a tense situation when Y/N jeopardizes a mission for the sake of an old agenda.
I Listened to “I Always Wanna Die (sometimes)” by the 1975 so this is why its so emo lol. request shit please!
Warnings: Rough Oral (F/M receiving), Angst, Fear, hints at Stucky X Reader
“You could have fucked up the mission, Y/N! You could have killed yourself and us!” Steve roared as he slammed the hotel door behind him. You had stormed in in front of him and had already unzipped the jacket of your tactical gear— the cold winter of the Siberian terrain called for it, and as you stormed into the room attempting to get away from him, the jacket seemed too tight and too hot.
“Okay, I get it!” You whipped around and looked at him with a gaze that could kill. “Yeah, I fucked up! You do know my whole schtick before you was taking down In-cell right? I did exist before you, you know!” You screamed. You had fought the organization since you were thirteen and at twenty you had been recruited by the Avengers after Ultron. You had always fought with them, but you did oftentimes go off on your own to take down small councils of In-cel. The mission was a simple recon— some Russian mobster was providing HYDRA with powerful weapons, and the team was simply supposed to gather information. You had fucked up by killing a man who you had been hunting for quite some time. You knew you had made a mistake, but you would never admit it to your too-proud boyfriend.
“Oh, don’t you go that direction.” He snarled, walking closer to you, invading your space and making your heart clench. “I absolutely know this—“
“No, you don’t, because every life, every moment revolves around Captain America!” You growled, marching up and jamming your finger into his chest hard. “Mr. Too-Richeous, too good for anyone but Madame Liberty, huh?”
His eyes darkened impossibly, and he smacked your arm away from him. Before you could even open your mouth to protest, he had you slammed against the wall with your wrists pinned against it. He only needed one and to completely trap you. The breath left your lungs, and you blinked blearily up at Steve, who looked briefly shocked at his own actions before masking them once more with Cap’s Face.
“See? You can’t feel any other emotion if it doesn’t fit the Captains agenda!” You glowered, fighting his grip, but knowing that there would be little chance of your escape. “Let! Me! Go!” You flailed, kicking his thighs and even going so far as to headbutt him. You groaned, resting your head against the wall as you felt an almost immediate headache spread from the top of your skull to the tips of your shoulders. You tried to pull your hands away from his grasp to nurse your head, but his fingers tightened around you, making you whimper.
“Are you finished.” He said, quietly. His voice was lethal and monotone, and it shook you right to your core. His bearded jaw was clenched, and his hair was falling over his deep-set brow and over his darkened eyes— with anger or lust, you had no idea. You felt his heart beating through your chests, and you swore you felt his cock beginning to harden against your stomach, but you wouldn’t be able to tell for sure— you were both so close it was hard to decipher anything that was going on. No matter how frustrated you were with this new, angrier version of Steve, you never failed to be rendered useless when he invaded your space like this. Pliant, under his angry gaze.
“Yes.” You panted, suddenly very quiet, and very submissive to this hulking, angry man. His lips were plump and tender from tearing at the dry skin anxiously with his teeth and felt warm and hard when he crashed them to your own. The kiss was angry— a mess of teeth and tongue and growls against skin. He bent down, and picked you up with one arm— the other still preoccupied with binding your hands above your head, and you helped secure yourself by wrapping your thighs around his slim waist. You ground your hips into his, and his grip weakened around your wrists enough to escape his grasp before quite literally tearing open his jacket and pushing down his shoulders. Your anger and desire made your strength increase tenfold, so the metal of the zipper was useless under your touch.
“You ripped my jacket.” He said, stating the obvious, before turning and throwing you onto the old mattress. The springs dug into your back, and you gasped as you swore something pinched you. You couldn’t turn and find the culprit, however, because Steve’s heavy body was suddenly pinning you down, sucking and biting dark, purple bruises over your body. His teeth scraped against your neck, and his tongue snuck from his lips to sooth the marks he was making. He was marking his territory— something he had begun to do after he rescued you from the RAFT. He needed something that was just his, and he needed physical proof that could ground him when he was feeling like the world was collapsing around him.
He pulled your undershirt over your head, flinging it somewhere in the room. He tore your sports bra in half, throwing it onto a lamp, making it crash to the floor and shatter on the thin carpet. He didn’t seem to care much, as his red-tinting gaze zeroed in on your naked torso before capturing a nipple between his teeth. He sucked the soft flesh, and your fingers weaved through his dirty hair, pulling him closer and thriving in the way that his mouth sent chills spreading across your body. By the time your breast was peppered with bruises and swollen bite marks, he kissed down your ribs, nipping and leaving cool kisses over your stomach. He had always loved every curve and line and scar, and no matter how angry he got he would always make sure to show how much he adored you.
He pulled away to roll your heavy tactical pants off after he rid your feet of your boots, kissing your ankles, the inside of your knees and calves. He nuzzled the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and the hair on his jaw tickled you in the most delightful way, making your muscles twitch in anticipation. He hooked his arms around your legs, resting his hands over your lower belly to keep you from escaping his unrelenting mouth. He inhaled deeply, and without giving you a chance to prepare, he licked a fat stripe up the cotton of your underwear and latched onto the area he knew your clit was. You threw your head back, and opened your mouth to moan, but no sound would come out.
He pulled away (much to your brief dismay) to tear your underwear up the middle and dove in, sinking the tip of his tongue deep into you while his nose teased your clit. You gasped, and when you tried to shift your hips, he smacked one of your tits to reprimand you.
“Don’t, Pretty Girl. Don’t move, or I’ll stop and leave you here alone.” You knew the threat was empty, but nevertheless, you didn’t dare test him, knowing how scared and angry he was. He breathed in deeply, and rut his hips against the mattress. “You smell so good, Baby Girl.” You looked down at him, and let out a near-pornographic moan at the sight of your slick coating his beard. One of your favorite parts about this new look of his.
“Thank you, Sir.” You moaned, moving your hand down to intertwine with his fingers on your stomach. He squeezed your hand lightly, and you replied with a small clench of your thighs. No matter how angry he was, he would always want you to be comfortable.
His hips moved in time with his tongue, and you groaned loudly from a place deep in your throat. He moaned as the friction of the mattress against the shaft of his cock gave him some relief as his erection grew and slowly became more painful. Fuck, you tasted so good. Fuck, you drove him crazy on every fucking level, but damn did you ever taste like heaven.
The combination of his relentless lapping, and his motions against the bed, and the beard burning your inner thighs drove you wild, and soon your thighs were tightening around his head as your back arched and a long mewl tore from your throat. Your body began to shake the longer you came, and Steve continued to work you with your tongue, slowly bringing you down from your orgasm.
You barely had time to regain the full scope of your vision or hearing before he was crawling up your body, planting a kiss to your lips and continuing to climb until his hands were balancing himself on the headboard, his impossibly thick thighs were straddling your shoulders, and his red, swollen cock was pressed against your lips. You opened your mouth, sucking the deep red tip into your mouth and tasting the salty pre-cum dripping off of him. You groaned around him quietly, and he grunted, thrusting lightly and you opened your jaw wider to allow more of him to enter you. Soon, he was thrusting lightly against the back of your throat, and he looked down at your pretty face taking his cock so well.
When he pulled out to allow you to breathe, you smirked up at him, still firey from the fight that had put you into this position. “What, you can’t fuck my face? Not a just way to get off, huh?” You grunted. He mouth dropped open in hazy shock before he thrust himself down your throat, hips pistoning, as he chased his high. He only pulled out three times to allow you to breathe, groaning at the strands of spit and cum that bound you to his body.
“I’m gonna cum, Pretty Girl. I’m gonna cum down your throat.” He grunted, thrusting hard enough to slam the bed into the wall. “Finally get you to stop running that pretty little mouth.”
Your nails dug into his ass, still covered by his tactical pants and pulled him close, swallowing around his girth and curling your body up to keep him right there. He came down your throat, shuddering, and hunching over to press his head against the peeling wallpaper as his orgasm ripped his body open, hot ribbons of cum warming your throat.
He pulled himself from your throat, and your lips chased him, desperate for his taste. You captured him in your mouth once more, and one of Steve’s gentle hands came to push away the hair that had fallen into your eyes. You hummed around him and sucked quite hard, making him gasp and pull his sensitive cock from your mouth.
He rolled around and sat on the pillows while resting against the headboard he had splintered when he came before pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your hair as your rested your head against his bare chest. You heard his rapid heartbeat, and kissed his peck, making him hum.
“I was so scared, Y/N.” He whispered, voice thick with emotion. You sat up, still straddling him, and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I saw him pull the trigger and I saw the bullet and I thought I was gonna see you die. You’re the only thing I have left in this world. I can’t lose you.” You watched as his eyes pooled with unshed tears and you leaned forward, kissing his eyelids and then the tears that you caught on his cheekbones.
“I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Your voice was raspy, and he frowned, more tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as his hand came to gently press themselves to your throat as if he had healing powers and could make you feel better somehow. “I was so angry, and I’m just worried about you. I figured once we were in Wakanda a few years ago that we would stay there and rest, but you’re just too good. You’re so good, but you’re also so tired. I’m so worried about you.” You whispered, catching every tear that fell from his eyes with either the pad of your thumb or the soft touch of your lips.
“How about this. When we go home next week, me and you stay in a hut somewhere with Bucky. Sam and Nat can go somewhere if they need to— they can keep saving the world, but me and you and Buck will sleep in late, and only wake up when the goats get too loud.” He smiled when the corners of your lips twitched. His hands rested on your hips and drew circles on the muscle and fat you always complained about. “He can have sex all day if you want, or we can hang out with Shuri all day, or we can spend the day neck deep in water. We can do all of that if you really want to.”
“Really?” You whispered, hopefully. Steve, who had fought aliens and robots and worked 120 hour weeks to keep the world safe was suggesting you go back to Wakanda with him and do absolutely nothing.
“Promise.” He whispered, raising his hand and holding out a pinky. You smirked, wrapping your own around his and kissing the place where you touched.
“I love you, Steve Rogers.” You whispered, resting your cheek against your fists.
Summary: Steve Rogers loves his wife, Y/N and he couldn’t be happier after finding out they’re going to have a baby. So what will he do when his wife is kidnapped? And how far will he go to get her back?
Pairing: Steve X Reader
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, mentions of unborn baby in harm, swearing
A/N: I’m so bad at getting to requests, anywhere here is this one which I love!
Also let’s just ignore Infinity War, okay?
Hi! I was wondering if you would be willing to write a Steve Rogers x reader where they’re married & the reader is taken hostage on a mission but is pregnant & Steve is desperate to get her back with a fluffy ending?
Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading. I hope you guys like it! Credit to gif owner