#Soft!DarkSteve | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magicxc · 3 years ago

Text

Sweetness

Pairings: Soft!Dark!Steve x Black!FemReader

Summary: New to the neighbourhood, reader gets a special welcome from Steve.

Word Count: 5078

Warnings: Explicit 18+, Dub-Con, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Hand Job, Cum Eating, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex

A/N: This fic has been bouncing around in my head for quite some time and I was finally able to articulate my thoughts long enough to see this through. *does happy dance* This steamy piece is every bit inspired by @queenoftheworldisdead and her Home for the holidays fic, so I recommend y’all give that a read. Enjoy and lemme know whatcha think!!

Moving always sucked for me. When I was eight years old, I moved during the middle of the school year because my parents got a new house. New district, new school, new friends. I guess that wasn’t too bad. Children are fickle as is. Up next was highschool. The eldest of three gave me privacy privileges that allowed me to move downstairs into our basement. It seemed cool until I had to drag damn near my entire bedroom down the steps by myself. Bitches, all of them. A little help would’ve been nice, but what also made things worse was the fact that I cracked my bedframe on the way down. The only good thing about that incident was that it made for a really cool, not so true, story about me getting some action. It’s safe to say my highschool life became a little lively afterwards. Then came college. Yes, my dorm came partially furnished, but it didn’t make the setup any easier. I- I guess when I think about it, all accidents aside, it really all just boils down to laziness. There’s so much lifting, and sweating, and exerted energy. It’s tiring. But at least I own up to it. I genuinely hate unnecessary labour.

And that brings me to now. Four years later and a degree in hand, I think it’s time to leave the nest, so to speak. Although late night cramming, frat parties, and shitty cafeteria food was a vibe, I think I’m ready to have my own space where I don’t wake up to my roommate getting her guts rearranged. I mean, get it in where you can but preferably when I’m not there. Shortly before graduating, I spent my final days on campus house hunting. My ultimate preference was to find something in a nice area, have ideal yard space, with close proximity to the city, and for the love of God, have a big kitchen; because ya girl likes to eat. Which is why I felt like I landed my dream home in Hillwood.

Thankfully my family was a great help to me moving in, this time around. Three days and two sore muscles later I was, for the most part, good to go. There was still a lot of setting up to do and rearranging of the general area, but the only thing I was missing was my vanity table. It took a little longer to ship but the large counter space and the IG ready lights made the wait oh so worth it. And now here I am, leaning out onto the railing of my porch as I patiently wait for my delivery because according to my email, it’s been shipped. Yeah, I’m one of those. Standing outside I feel the chill, autumn breeze caressing my warm skin as I gaze out into the open air, my heart swelling with pride as I reflect on my life’s journey.

Too into my thoughts, I barely register this random man approaching my steps. It puts me a bit on edge, and I was all too ready to tell him how he was getting just a little too comfortable until I eyed his friendly grin. Fuck, why is pretty privilege such a thing.

“Howdy neighbour” he says as he comes to a slow stop just beneath the steps. “I’m Steve and I thought I’d come on by and welcome you to the neighbourhood”

Steve? As in Rogers? Didn't they leave his ass on the moon? I mean, it does sorta look like him. Minus the fluffy looking beard and the extra muscle mass and those big, veiny, han- hold up. I’m staring and it’s safe to say he’s noticed; not that I care. Fuck, I wonder if any other moon men live in the neighbourhood. I wouldn’t mind some eye candy.

“Steve” I like the way that rolls off my tongue. I wonder what else I’d like to roll off my tong- and there it is again. Dammit, I'm not gonna last long like this.

“Nice to meet you. This where you been hiding out?”

“Yeah, let's go with that,” he said chuckling. “So, what brings you to Hillwood?” Steve asks.

“Cheap prices” I said shrugging. “Thought you were on the moon?” I questioned.

“And I thought it was courtesy to exchange names after an introduction,” Steve countered.

“Touché Steven” Standing up straight, I gesture for him to climb up the steps and offer him my name as I slip my hand inside his.

There’s a roughness to his palm, his thick fingers the size of sausages and I can’t help but imagine where else I’d like to feel them. We shake on it, his squeezing a little firmer than necessary, but I welcome the grip; liking the feel of his strength. It soon dwindles down to a light swaying and some minor eye fucking, either of us unwilling to let go. Eventually our handshake comes to a gentle stop as he repeats my name back to me.

Caressing my knuckles with his thumb, Steve begins “you know, if -“

Easing my hand from his grip I make my way inside to answer the phone, shouting back a quick “one sec.”

I hear him mumble out how he was saved by the bell and I find it too cute that America's hero, who was out here fighting in literal wars, gets a little shy over me.

I reach the phone and see that it's my sister, who’s probably calling to remind me of our family video session. And as much as I hate to tell the moon man goodbye, my family will kill me if I miss another gathering. The last time we scheduled to get on a call I completely forgot, finding myself drunk as hell at one of my college's local bars. I was ten shots in and a few licks shy from the lime wedged into the strangers mouth. Why in the fuck I answered my phone is beyond me, but my drunk mind thought it was cool. Tongue out and nipples in reach, it’s safe to say that my parents weren’t impressed and my siblings have since refused to let me live it down. So, unfortunately I can't ditch this meeting to oogle mr fine on my porch. But, I genuinely love our get togethers and the way that we make time for one another even when we can't be in each other's physical presence, so I don't mind. Hanging up the phone, I make my way to the door to see if I can put the moves on this beefcake of a man before I let him go.

“It was very nice to meet you Steve, but I have to get going. Let's exchange numbers so that you can show me around the neighbourhood sometime?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” he smiled. “By the way, what’s your favorite pastry?”

“Ohhh you’re gonna get me food? You know the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach!” I exclaimed.”

“I thought it was through love and loyalty,” Steve challenged.

“No, not even close. It’s through food. You’re in the twenty first century now, things are changing.”

“Clearly, I have a lot to learn.”

“Yeah, clearly. But I do like cheesecake,” I mused.

All playfulness leaves Steve’s face and he gives me this blank expression. “Y/N,” he says slowly, “cheesecake isn't a pastry.”

“But it's sweet.”

An awkward silence follows and I’m point two seconds away from feeling slow, like damn just say what you’re thinking.

“That doesn’t make it a pastry,” Steve protested.

“My bad, is it a cake?”

“Actually, it’s a tart”

“Steve, get off my porch.”

I didn’t actually want an answer. Not that I mind him putting me on, but people normally pick up on my sarcasm. And why the hell is it called a cheesecake, if it's not a cake. His laughter cuts through my poker face and I find myself in a fit of giggles at his boyish charm. Apparently there’s this whole subdivision of desserts which Steve spent the next several minutes delightfully explaining. And I loved his excitement which is why I held back on my next joke. Since we’ve only just met and he doesn’t understand my sense of humor, I don't want him to shut down on me.

The incoming video call breaks our conversation and I shush him with a quick peck to his cheek and a door to his face. Running to the couch, I pause, realising what I’d done. And I just had to laugh because I didn’t regret it for a second. I plop down on the cushions just as I hear Steve's retreating footsteps and press answer.

“Good to see you sober,” my sister teases.

“Shut the fuck up Ashley.”

“Y/N,” my mother lectured. “Just cause you’ve moved out of the house doesn’t mean you’re exempted from whoopings. Watch your mouth.”

“Yes ma’am,” I apoligised. “My bad, but please tell Ashley shut up about that. I feel embarrassed as is.”

“I fEeL eMbArRaSsEd As Is,” Ashley mocks. “And you should be.”

“It’s always the last child that's the most chaotic,” my older sister chimes in.

“Girls please, do not start this. We just started the damn call,” my dad criticized.

And that's how the next hour my evening went. Some bickering here, some gossiping there, and an overall update of everyone's daily life. And I fucking love these intimate times with my family because it makes being out here a touch less lonely. I do enjoy having my own space, but sometimes I miss being in the house with them. Fighting my sisters on who gets to take a shower first or bitching about who ate who else's leftovers. Another peak moment from our conversation was them agreeing to spend the weekend out here with me, to really break in the house. It also helps to have the extra hands here to help set up my vanity table, but they don't need to know that right now.

Finally, the weekend rolls around and currently my family and I are littered around the front room television glued into Netflix’s most talked about series. I probably wouldn't have made it past the first round of the show, but that's a discussion for another day. Debates, assumptions, and even bets get thrown around with promises to finish off the series the following day. And it's safe to consider their money gone because I'm great at predictions. Sometime later we find ourselves in a heated game of taboo, in which I leave with a face full of tears and a sore ass loser. This night is for the books. Because if I thought the bar thing was bad, I haven’t seen nothing yet and knowing my family, they will never let me live this down. But in all fairness, I'm very competitive and my dad sucked as a game partner. Like straight up shitty with his hints. I think he should pay my cable bill to really make it up to me. You know, something light - nothing too crazy.

I promised myself a shower, to cleanse the stench of loser, and as water trickles down my back, I take in a deep breath to inhale my essential oils in hopes of relaxing my achy muscles. Combined with the steam of the shower, the mist of the oils work deep into my pores and I feel my limbs droop in relaxation. Lathering up my towel, I swipe across my skin, scrubbing it spotless. Continuing to wash myself, I rinse off the excess soap and step out of the shower thirty minutes later; feeling clean and every bit of exhausted. Moisturizing my body, I slip into my night dress and make my way downstairs to the kitchen for some herbal tea to really set the mood of tranquility.

Stepping into the kitchen, I hear several knocks at my front door and according to my stove, it's 12:33. So whoever is on the other end clearly doesn’t respect my sleep. I think about ignoring it off the fact that they’re here unannounced, but my thoughts drift back to my family and I'd hate to disturb their slumber just because I'm awake. Walking over to the door, I take a look through the peephole and sigh in annoyance because clearly the moon man doesn’t care about the time. A second round of knocks pitches me out of my spot and I find myself unlocking the door to see a beaming Steve on the other end.

“It’s midnight,” I stressed. “What is it that's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?

“Cheesecake,” he muttered. “I’ve been busy these past couple of days and I finally had some free time so I whipped em up. I couldn't really sleep and I needed something to keep my mind busy. Plus they’re even better when fresh,” Steve stammered on.

“Steve -“

“And I missed you. I know that we’ve spoken here and there, and texted back and forth, but I just wanted to see you again. You’re hilarious and I could use a laugh tonight,” he murmured. “And I see now that I didn’t think this through.”

“Steve enough,” I objected. “I'm awake now.”

I lied, I'm actually very much tired, but I felt bad for him. I know how it feels to have an overactive mind that prevents sleep, so I don't mind chatting him up for about ten minutes. Plus, he made me cheesecake. When my roommate used to wake me up, in the middle of the night, the only thing she had to offer was her problems. So this seems like a fair trade. Stepping aside, I open up the door a little wider to let him inside.

“Y/N, I'm sorry for intruding,” Steve started. “Honestly, sometimes I forget that I dont keep the same hours as regular people, but you really don’t have to.”

“Steven, I'm awake now. Just come inside.”

“You literally look anything but,” he chided. “Luckily for you, I can fix that.”

“Oh yeah? How you gonna fix that?” I query.

“With this,” he exclaimed, holding up the box of cheesecake.

“Well fix away neighbour cause now you’re letting all my air out,” I gesture inside the house.

“As you wish.”

After Steve steps inside, I close the door and direct him toward the kitchen, where he places the tArT on the counter and begins describing his baking process behind it. I zone out for a bit, hungrily staring at the dessert. It’s topped with a red, cherry glaze that he smothered on top, with chunks of cherries littered in between, and I cannot wait to taste it. But maybe tomorrow because I genuinely don't care to right now. I always used to joke that I wanted a man that was good in the kitchen, but I'm realising now that I may not want the consequences in the form of extra calories; especially if he plans on giving me midnight snacks. Damn him.

“Where are your knives?”

His question throws me out of my trance and I have to remember to keep this short before I fall asleep at the counter. The last time I did that, I was in the middle of begging my professor to curve my grade after pulling an all nighter. Sometime between him denying me and my eyelids fluttering, the next thing I saw after I woke up was an empty chair and kindly worded post it note. Not to mention future awkward conversations between us for the remainder of the semester. I haven’t known peace since.

“In the drawer over there,” I pointed out. “But Steve, I really don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“Then we’ll share.”

Clearly I'm not winning this argument and neither do I care to. Besides, I'm way too tired to try.

After plating the cheesecake, I take a seat and watch as Steve brings a small forkful to my lips as I reluctantly take a bite. The creamy goodness immediately melts into my mouth and the graham cracker crust adds a nice texture to top it all off. Not to mention the cherry glaze. It's a little on the sweet side, but a very nice combination overall. I moan out my delight and I swear my eyes roll all the way back. I hear laughter beside me and I send him a glare because I can already tell that this is the beginning of the end for my self indulgence. Taking the fork from his hands, I swoop in for another bite of the cake. With a mouthful, I murmur my praises as Steve deserves it.

“I see why you disturbed my peace now, this was so worth it,” I joked.

“Thank you,” he laughs. “It makes me want to make you something else. I haven't had a lot of people to cook for these days.”

“Well you can cook for me anytime,” I raved.

Taking the fork from my hands, Steve takes the final bite of cheesecake left on the plate and drags it across his tongue in a final sweeping motion. I hadn't realsied that I’d stop chewing until I heard a light chuckle from him and I whipped my head around to check the timer on the stove because it's about that time for him to go.

Stepping closer to me, Steve cups my face in his hands and tilts my head back, ever so gently. And I know I was lying before, but I'm fully awake now and a tad bit confused on where this is going.

“Y/N, I know we’ve just met, but I like you. There were many opportunities that I’ve missed in my love life by putting the superhero thing first. And I don't intend to do that again.” Steve admits.

To say that I'm shocked would be an understatement. All I expected was a slice of cake tonight, not a confessional. He’s handsome and a little corny in that forties sense of humor kind of way. And I'm not against a relationship with Steve, but this is really throwing me off. Either that or maybe I’m still tired. I expected at least two more weeks worth of flirting before Steve popped the question honestly.

“So, are you -“

“You don't need to answer right away,” Steve interrupts. “But I just want to make my intentions crystal clear with you.”

“I’m actually speechless,” I laughed out. There is some giggling between us which eventually dwindles into an intense stare off. And I find myself leaning into his palm as his thumb strokes my cheek and maybe it's because I'm drowsy, but his light touches lull me into comfort.

Leaning forward, Steve presses a firm kiss to my lips and I let him as I snake my arms around his waist. His lips are soft and sweet from the cake while his gingery aftershave attacks my nose in the best way possible, making me hungry all over again. Steve darts his tongue out and I slowly ease away, with zero intentions to take this further. But of course my pussy has a mind of her own and who am I to turn down this fine man's advances.

Grasping onto his shirt collar just a little too tightly, I pull his face back to mine and bring him in for another wet kiss. I drag my tongue across both his lips and he takes that as a sign to open his mouth and swallow mine whole. His tongue feels hot against me and my body starts to tingle. Raising my hand around his neck, I yank the hair on the back of his head, earning a low groan from Steve. Pushing my tongue up, I slide it alongside his, flicking it and stroking it as I relish in the warm, velvety feeling.

Eyes half closed in pleasure, I peel them open and draw back once more to see Steve’s face riddled with lust. Lips moist from our make out session, and his chest heaving heavily, his eyes are now a dark shade of blue and all of this spit swabbing has my pussy throbbing.

Placing one hand on the counter and the other on my knee, I graze my fingertips up to my thigh, and stop just shy of my hips. My night dress has ridden up from the angle, enough for him to see that I’ve gone commando, and I raise my hips just enough to pull it up completely. Steve was once holding my stare, but now my pussy commands his attention and I'm ready to see just how well this captain follows orders.

Spreading my thighs apart, I perch both feet on the legs of the stool and sink my fingers into my cunt. There’s a moist stickiness already there which makes it all the more easier for me to thrust in both fingers effortlessly. Arching my back for a better aim, I let out a low moan and suddenly Steve is on his knees before me.

“How about you taste a dessert of mine,” I taunted. “It's not a tart per se, but it's definitely sweet.”

Draping my legs over his shoulder, Steve needs no further instructions as he hooks his arms around my thighs and dives in; slowly sucking on my clit as I angle my arm underneath my thigh to continue my lazy thrusting. My head falls back and I allow quiet whimpers to tumble from my lips, careful not to wake my family. Speeding up in pace, my hips push forward in a pitiful attempt for more friction as I curl my fingers upward, hitting that sensitive spot inside me.

Digging his fingers into my skin, Steve swirls his tongue around a little more frantically when he senses my climax nearing. Using my other hand, I run my fingers through his hair and a sharp nip on my bud causes a surprised shriek to follow. I didn’t quite like the sensation of pain, but looking down, I see that my body thinks otherwise. To my surprise, there's a small puddle that's trickling beneath me and while my orgasm wasn’t earth shattering, it did make me feel fuzzy. Drips of desire continue to add to that growing pool as Steven gently removes my fingers and licks them clean. Sucking onto them longer than necessary, he pointed out that, “I agree, you are sweet.”

“Have you ever known me to lie?” I quip.

Smirking, he raises to his feet and pulls my dress up and over my head, tangling my hair in the process. A fluffy mess atop my head, it’s a bit of an indication of what's to come next. Grabbing my neck Steve then smashes his lips to mine, our noses brushing together softly, which is a stark contrast to the rough way he’s kissing me. Pulling back, he leans his forehead against mine, with a stare that’s determined. Almost a promise of sorts, a promise to ruin me, a promise I hope he fulfills.

“Our first time’s really gonna be in the kitchen baby,” Steve speculated unbuckling his belt. “I think I love you already.”

“What's wrong with the kitchen? Is this not the place you come to eat,” I added, undoing the top button of his jeans.

Tugging his shirt over his head, Steve flings it to the side saying, “and I’m ready to eat again.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“The next time I find my face buried between your legs, I promise I ain’t letting up until your legs are shaking from all the pleasure I’m giving you,” Steve answered. Tracing his fingers across my jaw, he firmly grips it continuing, “and just when you think you can’t take much more, I'm gonna come up and massage those pretty tits of yours. Pulling, tweaking, sucking, and rubbing just right, until I bring you to the edge again; all but ready to dive into your next orgasm. But I’m not gonna give it to you,” Steve taunts, leaning in closer. Placing his mouth next to my ear, he whispers, “I’m not gonna give it to you because the next time you cum, it's gonna be on my dick and I ain’t stopping until you’re fucked out and pumped full of me,” he finished, nibbling on my earlobe. “But for now, for now princess, I just wanna hammer home.”

At some point throughout his little monologue, his jeans were on the floor and my fingers found themselves back inside my cunt, lazily thrusting. Slickly combining the mixtures of his spit and my juices together, I'm somehow more turned on than I was before.

Looking down at his member for the first time I grow a little nervous because I wasn’t expecting the moon man to be packing like this. With a swollen mushroom tip, precum leaks to the side trailing the red veins that lines his dick. Swiping a streak of precum from the tip, I scoop it up and into my mouth, moaning at the taste. It's warm and salty, but nowhere near as sizzling as I feel right now. So I draw our mixed fluids from inside of me and smear it onto his dick, using the rest of his precum as extra lube as I slowly begin to pump him. His breath hitches, stomach sucking in from the friction and I drive my hands lower fisting up and down the entirety of his shaft, as my breathing picks up.

Taking my other hand, I nestle them between my thighs once more, but this time they’re circling my fiery bundle of nerves. Steve tightens his hold on my jaw and my leg finds a place atop the counter, giving me more room to plunge my fingers deeper. My clit in one hand and Steve in the other, I pick up my pace - stroking him swiftly, delighting in the small whimpers falling from his mouth. Taking my thumb, I apply a slight pressure over the head of his dick, instructing him to, “tell me what you want daddy”

“I want to be inside you,” he answered.

“We’ll come on home then,” I demanded, dropping both my hands.

Steve wastes no time as he grabs his dick and drives it straight forward causing me to shriek a lot louder than I intended. Hand still placed on my jaw, the other grabs a hold of my hip and sets off on an ungodly pace. My arms wrap around his neck for dear life and it takes everything in me not to scream my pleasure, opting to bury my face into his neck instead.

“Oh shit doll, I have my own little super soaker huh?” He grunts in my ear. “It's a wrap for you Y/N, cause you ain’t going nowhere after this,” he swore. “You hear me?”

Sinking my teeth into his skin, I frantically nod my head yes, way too scared to give him an actual answer.

“Nah baby I need to hear you say it. You’re mine,” he growled with a particularly harsh thrust, causing my eyes to damn near roll out of their sockets.

Raising up from between his neck, I press my lips firmly to his croaking out that I’m yours, with a disgustingly loud moan as the angle of his hips hits my g-spot just right.

At that, I hear a door creak open and I notice a flash of light pour into the hallway; and if there was ever a time for the earth to swallow me whole, now would be the time. This doesn’t seem to deter Steve as his movements start to pick up in speed.

There’s a lewd sloshing sound in the otherwise quiet house and I look up pleadingly toward Steve for him, to at the very least, slow down. He pays me no mind and I decide that maybe captain ass needs a verbal plea.

“Steve, please stop. My family is asleep upstairs,” I beg.

“Good. Maybe they’ll get a chance to see who you belong to,” he hisses back.

I hate him so much. Unwrapping my hands from his neck, I use them to muffle my screams as Steve refuses to let up, thrusting into me with a vengeance. My breaths come out in short, heavy pants as I feel myself on the verge of cumming. Squeezing him tighter, he must feel it too because he drops his hands from my waist and begins to rub figure eights on my clit. Shifting away from him, he twists my face forward, his warm breath fanning my face, as he proclaimed, “ain’t no running from me doll.”

Begging and praying not to be heard, I find myself lying between that very fine line of pleasure and scared. But maybe that's what makes it feel so good. The thrill of getting caught. Meanwhile Steve is muttering in my ear, like a fly that buzzes during a barbecue. And as pissed as I am at him, I find myself reveling in the satisfaction he’s forcing on my body, almost forgetting all about my dilemma until I hear speaking from up the stairs.

“Who’s down there?” My dad asks.

Tears swell up in my eyes as I silently beg him once more, but all I get is a toothy grin in response.

Mustering up what little energy I have left, I manage to rasp out, “it- it’s me.”

“Y/N, I know you ain’t down there eating after one in the morning,” he sighs. “Just don’t be down there all night.”

“O- okay,” I croak out.

There’s a brief silence that follows and soon the light turns off and a door closes shut. The tears in my eyes overflow and run down my cheeks as I bite into my palms, muffling my scream, and I feel my orgasm hit me like a mack truck. Pounding steadily away, Steve follows not too far behind with his hot seed flooding my walls. Slumping my body, my hands drop to my lap and I feel every bit of tired, fucked out, and sore, but most importantly angry.

Grimacing toward Steve, I push at his abdomen ready for him leave and he yanks on my jaw for the umpteenth time that night, at this point, surely leaving a bruise. Facing me toward him, he pins his pelvis to mine, dick still hard inside of me, as he reiterated, “I meant it when I said that you were mine.”

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