Kill of The Night  Steve canât quite figure out the new recruit, but he knows thereâs something different about you.
Devilâs Playground  Sequel to Kill of the Night, and how well Steve adapts to hunting.
Apocalyptic Steve has a run in with a demon. Thereâs just one problem, you have a history with said demon.
Monster  Bucky and Sam show up unexpectedly to check on the two of you, but youâre on a case. How are you and Steve supposed to keep hunting a secret from them, if they get stuck in the middle of it?
Sacrifice  A vampire hunt goes south when you become one of the targets for another hunter.
Living Proof The case you and Steve are on brings about your worst nightmare.
Colors A hunter turned vampire makes for the deadliest hunter around. What happens when an old foe decides to make their own breed of assassins?
Bag of Bones Everyone needs help sometimes, because not all battles are meant to be won.
Itâs so rare to find this specific crossover and Iâm sure glad I found yours! Iâm also a Very Big Fan that you wrote Steve as something other than Americaâs Golden boy, it was very refreshing đ
Also, I forgot to say that "Power over me" must be my fave story of yours, and it's so emotional, and interesting, adventurous, but also deep in a way. Not all the stories are like that, and this one I've been keeping in my mind for a very long time. Thank you.
It is one of my favorites as well. Loki has a special place in my heart đ
Hello! I wanted to tell you that I adore your writing! Every once in a while I find myself coming back to your works and rereading them all one by one. They are just perfect. Thank you! đ
i found one of your pics like a couple of weeks ago and FORGOT to like it like an IdIoT and have been on the hunt ever since. i finally found it, your blog, and i just wanna say that you're a great writer! you're storytelling is an immersive experience and you should be proud of what you have published. xoxo, your new #1 fan
Thank you so very much đđ That means the world to me đ„°
Iâm looking for a Steve Rogers fic that started right after Steve came out of the ice. I canât remember if it was a reader insert or OC, but they were tasked with helping him get acclimated to modern times. They are an agent of SHIELD and theyâve been tracking down this bad guy who keeps shooting them in the shoulder or something. They had it set out to cover all the movies up until Endgame. The last time I saw it on my feed, the author had finished most of Age of Ultron. I think the reader insert or OC was also sent to convince Steve to help track down Loki and then during AOU Steve and them finally kissed. I donât remember too much about it, but I could probably think of a few more details. Is this something that youâve heard of or maybe your followers?
I have "Not Afraid Anymore" but not sure if that's what you're looking for. This ring any bells @sagechanoafterdark ?
As a very openly independent woman, I used to abhor just the thought of making a sandwich for a man. Over the years â there has been quite the stigma around âmake me a sandwichâ and how women belong in the kitchen. Drawing from not only personal experience, but the personal experiences of other women in my life and the strain of toxicity that tends to run throughout most of the male population, here is a little insight on why I was adamantly against sandwich making.Â
*Mind you Iâm not speaking on behalf of all women â this is solely my opinion alone.Â
Iâll break it down into two questions:
1.Who?
2.Why?Â
Who is the person you are preparing this sandwich for?Â
Truly.
Is he a good man? Does he respect you? Love you unconditionally? Is he someone you feel safe with?
Or does he break you down mentally â calling you hateful names when heâs angry. Do you often find yourself avoiding topics in conversations because you want to âavoid that argumentâ? Do you isolate yourself from your friends because he doesnât like them and being around them causes conflict? Are other women a factor? Because if heâs taking time out to have flirty, meaningful conversations with that girl in his DMâs then he can make his own sandwich.Â
Why are you making him a sandwich?Â
Most answers here are â âWell, he worked all day.â Girl â didnât you? Do not â I repeat â do not ever let someone (especially a man) tell you that your 9-5 job is not as hard as theirs. From Teachers, Receptionists, Stay at Home Moms, to Businesswomen, and do not get me started on Nurses. Your jobs can be just as hard â especially mentally - as any manual labor job out there.Â
So how was I able to break away from the stigma?
It takes a King.Â
Girl â youâre a Queen.
When you finally find a King â because we know there are plenty of Jokers out there â youâll know.Â
Everything comes in time, and it comes naturally.Â
Never settle for less than you deserve.
Now, if youâll excuse me, Iâm going to make my guy a sandwich. đÂ
Kill of The Night  Steve canât quite figure out the new recruit, but he knows thereâs something different about you.
Devilâs Playground  Sequel to Kill of the Night, and how well Steve adapts to hunting.
Apocalyptic Steve has a run in with a demon. Thereâs just one problem, you have a history with said demon.
Monster  Bucky and Sam show up unexpectedly to check on the two of you, but youâre on a case. How are you and Steve supposed to keep hunting a secret from them, if they get stuck in the middle of it?
Sacrifice  A vampire hunt goes south when you become one of the targets for another hunter.
Living Proof The case you and Steve are on brings about your worst nightmare.
Colors A hunter turned vampire makes for the deadliest hunter around. What happens when an old foe decides to make their own breed of assassins?
Bag of Bones Everyone needs help sometimes, because not all battles are meant to be won.
listen people are starting to realize tumblr isnât dead we all need to be as cringe as possible for the next few months, itâs vital to our survival
I love that op said âbe as cringe as possibleâ and my main man Tumblr replied with giffs of Superwholock in that exact order. I love you all so much.
Warnings: Language, Murder, Bloody, Little Smut-ish
Words:Â 2k
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
A/N: Monster of the Week. Steve canât quite figure out the new recruit, but he knows thereâs something different about you.Â
Song: Kill of The Night by Gin Wigmore
Hunter Steve Series List
The danger is Iâm dangerous and I might just tear you apart.
âI donât trust a guy without a dark side.â
Tony had said those words to him once and they echo in back of Steveâs mind everytime he looks at you. The two of you are sparring in the gym and he blocks your right hook, itâs obvious youâre holding back.
âStop pulling your punches,â Steve says flatly, his eyes watching you closely.
You take a step back, tilting your head in confusion, âIâm not.â
âYou are,â he rests his hands on his hips.
âIâm really not that strong,â you look at him innocently, knowing heâs not buying it. You shake your head with a little laugh. âWhy donât you like me Rogers?â
âBecause I havenât figured you out yet?â
Youâve only been on the team a little over three months now. Fury had recruited you. Another assassin like Barton and Romanoff, someone who could easily blend in and be stealthy, whose face hadnât been plastered all over the news for saving the world.
Everyone thinks youâre amazing, which frustrates him, because Steve doesnât understand why he canât shake the feeling youâre hiding something.
A seemingly simple four letter word, but as an adult I've started to realize just how complex that word is.
In my 30+ years of life - have I ever truly felt safe?
As children most of us didn't experience the white picket fence version of a family because after all no one is perfect, but that shouldn't mean a child shouldn't feel safe with their family.
My experiences gave way to a mental 'what not to do as a parent' checklist. I've spent my entire life knowing how to walk on eggshells around the people in my life and once I was free of that it became apparent to me that isn't normal behavior.
A child should feel free to talk with their parent about anything and everything that is going on with them - not worry about being judged or reprimanded.
They should feel heard and understood.
I was recently told by someone close to me that they couldn't believe what I was going through because in their words, 'You're standing in a room screaming and no one is listening.'
That statement hit home.
Because I've been trained to believe that my thoughts and my feelings are just me being crazy.
Years of being with a narcissist will do that to you.
I came straight from a home life where I was manipulated and lied to constantly, where my feelings were never put first or taken into consideration and I immediately went into a similar relationship - for ten more years.
Is it just me?
Or are all the broken children this way?
Do we seek out the things that keep us broken because that is all we know?
It took me years to find myself.
My voice.
The strength to leave and I've never felt more free.
It was recently after a conversation with the man I'm currently with that I realized for the first time one of the biggest feelings I have when I'm with him is safe.
A feeling I'd never felt before.
He makes me feel safe.
No eggshells.
That is how it should be - how it should always be.
Sadly - it shouldn't take 30+ years to feel this way.
Warnings: language, sex, lots of sex, mouthy angry Steve, slight slut-shaming, breeding kink if you squint, cream pies
Word Count: 1,319
Synopsis: Steve hates you, right?
A/N: This is a rewrite of this drunk drabble I wrote for @shotsbyshae forever ago. This was fun to do itâs not edited or beta read so all mistakes are mine. Is it better than the original? Maybe. I think it is that's what counts
Steveâs hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the high-pitched moan that pierced the night air. Thick digits sliding slowly from your lips, dragging roughly down before wrapping around your throat. Restricting the air you so desperately needed.
Hips pumping. Skin slapping. Steves cock driving into you at a punishing pace, grunting against your ear in time with each thrust. âYouâre so god damn loud,â he scolded with a growl. âSo fucking hungry for my cock right?â
You nodded, tears leaking from your eyes as he squeezed a little too hard. A groan of pleasure slipped from him as you let out a choked moan. Fucking Steve Rogers was nothing like people imagined it was.
Steve was the golden child.
Americaâs brightest beacon.
A dancing monkey for the amusement of others.
And Steve hated it all.
Heâd begun to despise the spotlight long before heâd showed up in this century and your very arrival to the team, someone who didnât shy away from the spotlight, grated on his last nerve. Youâd become a thorn in his side and it wasnât just because you were clearly Tonyâs favorite, from the first moment he meets you with your fake smile and friendly tone of voice Steve despised everything you were.
It didnât matter what you did it was always met with bile from Steve. On missions he was short with you, snapping out orders and sneering with a condescending, âThink you can do that?â Pushing you out of the way, yanking you back into a dark corner his grip bruising your arm, Steve was being purposefully harsh for reasons that the rest of the team had no idea about. But you did.
Freedom incarnate had a dark side and you were the one who always managed to bring it out. Seething, writhing darkness he suppressed on a daily basis, let loose whenever he got you alone. Steve wouldnât hold back. He didnât have to because he absolutely hated you so there was no reason to be gentile.
Even after the first time, heâd pinned you in the stairwell, fucking you against the concrete wall like a man possessed his fingers left familiar bruises. Heâd left you spent, cum dripping from your still spasming pussy on the cement stairs. Knees scuffed and hands raw he sneered down at you before buttoning his fly and returning to the press conference downstairs.
Steves loathing of you didnât cease after that day.
But the darkness inside of you was awoken by his own. So now when heâd corner you, youâd always look up at him with pouty eyes. His thumb briefly tracing your bottom lip parting them and running the pad against your tongue before youâd ask, âHow do you want me?â And heâd knowingly smirk.
To you and the rest of the world, Steve was perfection incarnate. A pouty bottom lip that just begged for your teeth, his eyes shining bright with so much intensity and emotion it was almost blinding. Muscles that stretched and moved like tensile steel beneath flesh hot to the touch and a cock that made you forget your name.
There was violence in his grip. Barely restrained and itching to be let loose as he held you with demanding and desperate touches. Fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pulling and twisting your hair around his fist bending and twisting your body into position. His perfect pearl white teeth dragging against the curve of your neck before perfect pouty lips both saccharine sweet and bitter like poison slotted over your own with a growl.
âI fucking hate you,â heâd snarl against your lips.
âFuck me,â you demanded, a whine escaping as his fingers probed past the pink cotton panties before thrusting into your soaking wet core.
When you were together you were his and his alone.
Steve owned you when that door closed and you gladly gave yourself over. You wanted to feel him. You wanted to take everything he had to offer. You wanted it all and more.
Every fear.
Every worry.
Every desire.
Every evil.
âYouâre so fucking soft,â he hummed a touch of admiration in his voice. Pulling away leaving you trembling on the verge of orgasm, his hand fisting his cock covered with your slick and giving a few quick pumps before turning you over and pushing you face down against the bed. The head of his cock pressing against you again and he groaned, âPussy so wet and hungry for my cock.â
Rocking his hips the head just parting your lips and making the breath shudder from your lungs, desperation coloring your voice in a whine at his teasing. Steveâs hips surged forward, filling you again as his hand tangled in your hair, craning your neck back to look at him with lust-heavy eyes, âSuch a hungry slut.â
âSteve,â you whimpered, your own fingers reaching down and circling your clit. He pushed your head down, releasing your hair to grip your hips and start a punishing pace, the slap of skin sharp in the quiet room. âFuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,â you chanted as each thrust pushed the air from your lungs.
He pulled you against him then, hands tight against your arms before his knees settled into the soft mattress. Cock fucking up into you with the same rough strokes, bending your back against him your hands reaching back and yanking at the short strands of hair. Steveâs hand slipped around your neck again, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he panted softly, âI could fucking kill you right now you know. I could do it and youâd never even fight back.â
âYouâre so fucking soft,â he hummed in admiration, turning you over and pushing your face down against the bed. Thrusting back into you as he maneuvered you the way he wanted. âPussy so wet and hungry for my cock.â
You cried out, low and needy as your fingers rubbed against your clit harder and faster a choked sob slipping past your lips and you felt Steves smile. Steve could kill you. He could and youâd fucking let him.
âYou fucking love it donât you,â he purred, wet fingers circling your clit a little faster making your eyes roll into the back of your head and your pussy begin to flutter as your orgasm drew closer. âFuck, squeezing me so tight. Cock drunk slut wantâs me to fill her up? Yeah?â
âPlease, Steve.â
He hummed against you, voice taking on that familiar desperate edge and hips rolling a little harder and more sloppy than before, âFucking beg for it. Cum on my cock and beg.â
The last ounce of your dignity left with that moment, in a babble of words you begged for it, âPlease Steve. Please. I need it. Need your cum so bad. Fill me up, please, fuck please Steve.â
Steve moaned loud, the sound vibrating through your whole body as a shudder ran through you. You shook as every muscle in your body tightened down, awash in pleasure that had your mouth opening in a soundless cry at the same moment Steve grunted into your hair, âOh fuck.â
Early morning light filtered into the windows pulling Steve awake before you. Running a hand through his hair and scrubbing his face he sighed heavily before sitting up and looking down at you. Reaching out and touching your softly, fingertips lightly tracing against your face, the curve of your neck littered with love bites and bruises before leaning down. Impossibly long lashes giving you butterfly kisses against your flesh as he trailed his lips over your cheek, fingers brushing the hair from your eyes.
Steve hated you.
A smile tugged at your lips as he left the bed and you rolled into his vacated warm spot, fingers trailing after him as he picked up his clothes and prepared for his morning run.
@shotsbyshaeâ asks, âCan my request be off a song since we have similar tastes? đ Desire by Meg Myers. Steve/Reader, maybe one of those they love to hate each other situations because the readerâs a brat and gets under his skin.â
Pairing: Steve x Reader
Synopsis: Steve does hate you, doesnât he?
Warnings: Sex, violence, swearing, darkish Steve
A scream pierced through the night air. Torn from your throat before a hand clamped down. Cutting off the air. Hips pumping, skin slapping together, wet and hot. He grunted above you in time with the thrust. Tears streaming down your face, the hand tightening around your neck. Fucking Steve Rogers was nothing like people imagined it was.
My darling! My sweet! This fic is truly a golden oldie and your reblog makes me think about doing a little bit of a rewrite on it. Just a smidgen. đ€Ł Maybe a little more angst and some more sexytimes. MAYBE.
Iâm super honored that you still think of this story from time to time and that you still enjoy it đ„°đ„°
And that you still love getting hate fucked by Steve
