#Steve Rogers Fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

levans44 · 3 days ago

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who you gonna call when it gets dark?

pairing: steve rogers x agent!reader

summary: His conviction in permanence has been scrubbed raw like wood against sandpaper—loss turned into anger turned into despair, eventually whittled down into disappointment. You’re one of the last threads holding it together.

One more brush, one more stroke—and he’d be gone.

warnings: heavy angst, hurt/comfort, pain, mild description of injury/blood, slow build, inside the tortured mind™ of steven grant rogers

word count: 3.4k

a/n: pt. 3 of my mini series: what's it gonna take?, but this can be read as a stand-alone piece. title by FINNEAS

06:48

It’s safe to say that Steve doesn’t get a lick of sleep, playing back the images of you in the gym like a sick refrain: struggling beneath his grip, straddling his chest, stepping over him—hell, nearly stepping on him—to get across.

So when he trudges into the communal kitchen the next morning, looking like he hasn’t slept in a century, the others take immediate notice.

“Woah, Steve, you alright man? You look like death.” Sam blurts out, never one to mince his words.

He barely registers Sam’s face, eyes glazing past where he’s sat next to Bucky on the kitchen island.

But there’s no missing you.

Perched on the other end of the counter, legs crossed under an oversized band tee, sipping from a glass of bright orange juice. You smirk knowingly over the rim, as if you know exactly why he’s got bags under his eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Captain Muscle’s been burning the midnight oil, gettin' his reps in.” Natasha teases by the coffee machine, arms crossed, mug in hand.

“Damn, Steve,” Sam pipes up, “you getting laid, man?”

And just like that, he’s feeling a little more alert, pivoting to shoot Sam a look.

“Hey, I’m just sayin’,” Sam grins, arms raised defensively. “You gotta work off that energy somehow. When’s the last time you brought a girl back here?”

Amused by the very idea, he chuckles, shaking his head as he continues his weary march toward the fridge.

“Here? Never.”

The clink of bottles echoes as he opens the steel door, itching for something cold.

From behind, Sam persists: “Ah, but you did somewhere, huh?”

He chooses to ignore him, grabbing a bottle of water instead. Takes a long, slow swig, feeling it cool him down from the inside. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that you’re still sitting there, out of the corner of his eye, pretending to be absorbed in your phone. As if he doesn’t know you’re locked in on every word.

“I’m telling you, man.” Sam leans back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. “Online dating’s where it’s at. One word that you’re an Avenger, and these girls are sending you all kinds of—”

“—careful, Wilson.” Natasha interrupts, a crimson-polished fingertip pointing in your direction. “There’s children present.”

Your head lifts from your phone at that, and as all the attention shifts over to you, you let out a small huff, flashing a sarcastic grin in Nat’s direction before slipping off the counter. Steve takes it as opportunity to look too, and silently wonders if you’re still a little bothered by the offhand comments about your age.

From beside him, Sam groans, turning to you with renewed interest.

“Oh c’mon, she’s plenty grown. Hey, Ace, lemme ask you something.”

You glance over on your way to the sink, setting your empty glass down before swiveling around, hand on your hip.

“Sam.” Steve mutters a sideways warning, trying not to appear invested. Yet, the soft crinkle of his water bottle betrays him, his grip tightening around the flimsy plastic.

When his eyes flicker back to you, you’re still watching.

“Say you’re scrolling on tinder and you come across Captain America. Would you swipe right?”

Steve’s stomach drops, breath hitching in his throat.

“Don’t answer that.” He mutters, raising an eyebrow at you. And he immediately regrets saying anything, because his voice completely misses the casual air he intended, coming out like a strained command instead. If he had any chance of playing the nonchalant card to begin with, it certainly wasn’t an option now.

And Steve isn’t the type to hate anyone.

But in this moment, he thinks he might just hate you—standing there with your knowing smile, as if you’d waited your whole life to answer that question.

“Hmm. I don’t know…”

He can practically taste the satisfaction on his tongue when your eyes land back on him, observing the way he stares. Slowly sucks in your bottom lip, letting it go with a soft ‘pop’ before you flash a devilish grin.

With your gaze still locked on him, you shrug:

“…personally? I’m more of a Winter Soldier girl.”

The silence that follows is sharp. Sam bursts out laughing. Bucky gives you a sidelong glance, clearly amused but playing along.

"When did I get roped into this?”

Yet, your gaze lingers on him, stretching the moment just a fraction longer, savoring the details of his expression. He notes the soft flicker of your eyes, darting between his with a quiet intensity, as though you're searching for something he can’t quite place.

And the stunned look on his face must have been all the answer you needed, because the next moment, you’re promptly turning on your heels and exiting the kitchen, leaving him staring after you.

“So you and Ace, huh, Bucky? How long has that been a thing?”

“Shut up, Wilson.”

As the noisy banter fades into static, all he can comprehend is the pounding in his ears, and the look in your eyes when you had answered Sam’s question.

Did you find it? What you were looking for?

And when his mind eventually comes to, he realizes the water bottle in his hand’s been reduced to a shriveled-up heap of plastic. He stares down at the bottom half of his shirt—soaked through and clinging sticky-cold against his skin—and sighs.

21:27

“Negative, Fury. We’re boxed in, asset’s KIA. We have to pull back. Now.”

In his line of work, they’ve got all kinds of slang for situations like this—Charlie Foxtrot, FUBAR, SNAFU.

Or, to put it bluntly, a real goddamn mess.

Minimal gear, no real prep, just a routine asset extraction in a neutral zone.

Less than ten minutes after touchdown, they’re ambushed in the middle of a crowded market, surrounded by enemy forces with no escape route. A nearby apartment building reduced to ruins by a stray grenade, hundreds of civilians on the ground caught in the crossfire.

They’ve barely scraped by with their own lives intact, but it doesn’t matter.

It’s the kind of loss where the ride back home is deafeningly silent, the air hanging thick and heavy over the cabin.

You take it the hardest, running point on the job.

Steve knows from experience that there’s nothing more to be done. No point in mourning any alternatives.

But when you yank your earpiece out and haul it at the ground, a sharp crack piercing the silence before the plastic skitters across the floor, he knows a million different scenarios are running through your mind right now.

The kind of spiraling that never ends.

Even Sam, with all his years of counseling, can’t seem to reach you, his words hushed and careful as he approaches you in the back corner of the cabin. You remain motionless, slumped in your seat like a wounded animal too tired to flee.

When the Quinjet touches down, you’re the first one out, sprinting across the tarmac before the ramp can fully lower. It’s a blur—your boots pounding against the metal, the cold air rushing past him. He watches a trail of dust flare in your wake. Maybe blood. He can’t tell.

It’s not too late to catch up to you, but he remains motionless, eyes lingering on the small limp in your step as you disappear inside the building. Then, with a heavy roll of his shoulders, he turns his attention to the grim task behind him, helping the medical staff carry the most severe injuries off the jet.

22:51

38 civilian casualties. 2 agents in critical condition. Estimated $14 million in damages.

Steve’s pacing by the exit to the recovery room, hands gripping the edge of a tablet, eyes fixed on the damage assessment flickering across the screen. But his mind’s somewhere far off.

“You alright?”

Bucky’s voice cuts through the noise—he’s observing from one of the treatment beds nearby, holding pressure against a shallow bullet wound.

Steve doesn’t have to answer.

He sighs, feeling the weight of his friend’s gaze as he goes to set the tablet down, feet already pointed toward the door.

“I’ll be back.”

23:19

The halls of the compound feel long. Empty.

His combat boots drag like chains, scuffing the pristine linoleum with dark streaks. They halt in front of your door, and his bloodied knuckles tremble as they hover, inches from the metal. Over the ridges of his bone-white fists, the smaller cuts are already knitting themselves back together.

He stays suspended there, breath hitching in his chest, before exhaling and landing two sharp knocks.

Radio silence.

But then again, not really. Not when his enhanced hearing picks up the faint rustling from inside.

He calls your name, softly. Then again, a little louder.

The third time provokes a response.

“Go away.” Your voice is muffled but sharp, the kind of tone that brooks no argument.

He’s not in the mood to argue either, but he reaches for the door and steps inside anyway.

His eyes find you immediately, the dark outline of your silhouette curled up on the edge of the couch—knees drawn tight, shoulders hunched like you’re trying to fold in on yourself. A lamp in the far corner casts a muted glow, stretching your shadow long and sinuous across the wall.

The rest of the room is barely lit, though there’s not much else to see. Identical to his own—bed, dresser, sofa, tv. If he were playing ‘spot the difference,’ he’d point to the quilted beige throw hanging off the back of your couch, though most of it’s obscured behind your frame.

You’ve got your own place outside the compound—somewhere in the city, he recalls—yet you choose to spend most of your nights here, ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.

Plus, Tony’s got free HBO and Disney.

Your head snaps up at the intrusion, and the despair that flickers across your face is immediately chased away by the sharp edge of irritation.

Your lip quivers when you snap, rolling your eyes:

“What part of go away is so hard to understand?”

He takes another step forward, feet dragging against the coarse carpet. His best attempt at a smile is a stiff twitch of his lips, mouth drawn in a tight line.

"Guess I’m getting hard of hearing.”

The words hang uselessly in the air, doing nothing to soften the harsh lines of your brow. You retreat further into yourself, chin tucked behind your knees, glaring at him warily like a cornered stray.

And there’s anger there, sure, but it’s something else too—beneath all the layers of pain, frustration—a bone-deep exhaustion he knows all too well.

“I don’t need—”

“—I know.” Nylon fibers cling to his sole as he kicks, boot scuffing against the carpet. “Just wanted to see how you’re holding up.”

It’s a lousy line, he knows. But it works, if only to crack through your cold façade.

“Holding up?” You laugh, a dry sound that sucks all the air from the room. “I’m fine. Perfectly okay. Just like those thirty-eight civilians. Like Jones and Meyers in the IC-U.”

Your voice breaks on the last syllable, arms unraveling like a broken slinky as they fall limp over your lap, your feet sliding to the floor. He sees it, then—a flash of white beneath the hem of your shorts, deep crimson staining the gauze from the inside out.

And something in his stomach twists. Breaths quickening, fingers twitching at his sides—he’d noticed the limp earlier, but this seems worse.

Urgency flares in his chest as he steps closer. The edges of your makeshift dressing are frayed, the dimensions of the wound too large to hide. Only then does he register the emergency med kit splayed open on the coffee table, its contents scattered about haphazardly.

His eyes lock in on the heap of gauze pads nearby—soaked through with your blood, darkening the fabric in patches—and his breathing stops.

“What happened?”

You freeze, realization flashing across your face.

“Nothing.”

Brows furrowed, he steps in closer, trying to tamp down the strange irritation bubbling in his chest. “It’s clearly not—“

A sharp, heaving breath cuts him off, halfway between a sigh and a scream, and you lurch upright.

“—Jesus christ, it’s nothing, just,” Your hands rake through your hair, fingers clawing at your scalp, “god, can you just—”

You collapse back down, palms digging into your eyes as you let the couch swallow you whole. He holds his breath, biting his tongue at how quickly it had all happened.

The first sob hits after a long, suffocating pause. Your body crumples like parchment, folding inward, the lines of you trembling like branches caught in the wind.

His eyes trail back to the pile of blood-soaked bandages, your muffled sobs pounding against his eardrums. And the knot in his stomach tightens another notch.

Because all he can think is—this is it.

What he’s been running from since the day he met you.

The most terrifying, fundamental truth.

For all your indomitable spirit, you aren’t him. Not shielded by the same untouchable strength. That miraculous concoction that lets him sidestep his reckoning at every turn.

It’s a fickle thing, mortality. He’s teetered over its shadowed edges, more times than he can count. Yet, even when he chose the drop, 80 years ago in the middle of the Arctic, it had failed to claim him—some twisted stroke of man-made fate suspending his corpus and careening him into a new century.

Your mortality doesn’t play by the same rules—a newly lit match, flickering brightly at one turn, snuffed out the next.

And he realizes the knot in his stomach is fear.

He’s terrified. Of you. Of the way you make him yearn for a predestined loss.

His conviction in permanence has been scrubbed raw like wood against sandpaper—loss turned into anger turned into despair, eventually whittled down into disappointment. You’re one of the last threads holding it together.

One more brush, one more stroke—and he’d be gone.

“…I should’ve clocked it,” your muffled voice breaks the spiral. “Fuck, I should’ve known.”

“Hey, hey.”

He steps forward, bending one knee to the floor, his hand rising to brush the side of your arm, hovering as if to offer solace. He swallows hard, dislodging the words caught in his throat.

"It was an ambush. None of us could’ve seen that coming.”

You shake your head, rubbing the corner of your cheek so roughly it makes him wince.

Then the words that slip from your chapped lips nearly break him.

“It should’ve been me.”

He shakes his head, swallowing back a wave of nausea, the taste of bile rising sharp and bitter on his tongue.

“It shouldn’t have been anyone.”

The rest of his words claw at the back of his throat, burning.

No, not you.

Never you.

You snort, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you straighten.

“Look, if you’re here for a pep talk, can this wait till tomorrow? I’m kinda tired right now.”

But his gaze is already wandering downward, tracing the path of your injured leg.

And he murmurs:

“Let me fix it.”

A soft tap against your bare knee, and it makes your eyes grow wide. The tears clinging to your lashes turn sharper than cut glass, refracting crystalline and jagged under the dim light.

You cock your head and blink, incredulous.

“The dressing’s too loose. You can’t leave it like that.”

You sigh out a laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, so now you’re a medic too?”

He lets his gaze drop, the weight of it settling on the floor as he shuffles forward, dropping his other leg to the ground.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, even quieter now, giving your knee another tap.

You release a heavy breath before you oblige, brows furrowed, lifting your leg so he can peel off the bandaging looped around your thigh, wincing when the cotton clings stubbornly to the raw edges of your wound.

As exhaustion drags your leg downward, his hand finds the hollow behind your knee, steadying you, warm and achingly soft against the calloused edges of his palm.

At the sight of your wound uncovered, he swallows—a ragged gash stretching across your thigh, too long, too deep.

His lungs feels tight, each breath snagging like the time he fractured half his ribcage.

“Did you even clean this out?”

Your silence answers for you, loud and clear.

And even in the weight of the moment, he can’t help but glance up and give you a look. The kind of chiding, quiet disapproval that would normally have you rolling your eyes all the way back.

Now, the only energy you can muster is a subtle tilt of your head, your gaze soft and unfocused, blinking slowly as he averts his eyes back down.

He reaches for the first aid kit, still strung out on the coffee table, and his hands quiver when he tips the bottle of iodine against a cotton pad, the copper liquid staining it with a sickly gleam. The acrid scent punctures the air, thick and harsh as he holds it up against your raw wound.

You exhale sharply, a pained breath caught between your teeth.

"Fuck." You groan, tensing immediately. ”God, son of a—"

And this must really hurt, because you’re one of the few people he knows who can match his chronically abnormal pain tolerance.

“I know,” his voice is thick with restraint, shoulders tipped forward and crowding the space between your legs. His left hand moves to splay across your knee, tension rippling beneath his palm, your breaths growing heavy when he has to start pressing deeper.

Once so deep that you let out an involuntary gasp, your hand shooting out to grab at his wrist, fingers curling tight. He freezes, eyes fluttering shut to avoid looking up, because he’s pretty sure that’d be the thing to undo him completely.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice rough. Waits for your grip to loosen, that trembling, frantic hold slipping just enough for him to continue.

“…almost done, promise.” Desperation seizes his chest as he tries to work quicker, and the only taste in his mouth is metal now—’cause if you’d had just let him bring you to med bay, they could’ve given you something, topical cream, lidocaine shots, whatever, to make this go away.

He bites down harder to try and block out the sight of your hands in his periphery, the way your fingertips turn ghostly white, digging into the scratchy upholstery to resist reaching for him again. But no matter how hard he tries, there’s no reprieve from that grating sound of your nails against the fabric, the way it scrapes and claws every time he lowers his hand, your body jerking to try and brace against the agony.

23:54

Slow and mechanical, the bandage wraps around leg in measured turns, like tape over his knuckles before he steps up to a punching bag.

He gently tugs on the bandaging, his eyes lifting for the first time since he’s been down here. He takes your tired nod as confirmation, immediately occupying himself with rustling, scrunching up empty packages and crinkly plastic into a tight fist as he closes up the kit.

“You still need to get that checked out, looks like it might need stitches.”

“Uh huh.”

And the knot in his stomach grows, cause he’d be willing to bet everything that you won’t.

But then, you say:

“Steve.”

And he stares back, incredulous, at the slow curve of your smile, the swell of your cheeks catching the light. Your eyes glint up at him, and his stomach does another lurch—this time for a different reason altogether.

“…thank you.”

He nods, clearing his throat as he rises to his feet, knees creaking like old floorboards and hell, maybe he is getting old.

“Make sure you’re not putting weight on that leg, means no running or lifting for a while.”

“Yessir.”

A lazy smile accompanied by a salute, and he has to fight the wave of nostalgia of that day in Lagos.

And—because old habits die hard and the habits of this job die harder—a parting remark starts to formulate in the back of his throat. Something profound about their line of work, about doing the best you can.

Don't beat yourself up, you did everything you could.

But instead, he settles on a silent nod, heavy ache simmering in his chest.

He casts one last look at your tired frame, draped loosely over the couch, and leaves the same way he came in.

00:00

a/n: soo i had finished this chapter a while back, but ended up rewriting it and decided to go in a completely different direction. hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading :) feedback is always welcome!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #heavy angst #whump #steve rogers fanfiction #slow burn #marvel mcu

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auroracalisto · 2 days ago

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day #24: a christmas party

captain america, steve rogers x gn!reader, 351 words a/n: you decided you didn't really want to go... so you're really hoping steve says no. good luck.

"You... want me to be your plus one for a Christmas party?" Steve asked incredulously. He didn't do parties; hell, he hardly had the time for them anymore. But a Christmas party? He hadn't been to one of those since before he was drafted. It's been a hell of a long time since he had experienced something like that.

Maybe it would be good for him. Getting out, experiencing something that wasn't from his memory or realm of understanding.

"Yeah," you said. "I mean, you can say no. We could just stay in." You sat your glass in the sink, glancing back at him as you did so.

Steve's lips quirked up. He rather enjoyed his time with you, and he wouldn't complain if his evening was spent with you and potentially welcoming party-goers. The look on his face is enough to answer your gut feeling. He didn't want to go, and honestly? You couldn't blame him.

"Why don't we stay in?" you asked.

He furrowed his brows. "But you said—"

"—I know what I said, but we can stay in. Have a little Christmas party of our own."

He blinked slowly. "How would we do that?"

"Well... we could have movies, and hot chocolate, and maybe even order take out. We got gifts for each other so we could open one or two of them before Christmas day."

Steve raised a lone brow. "You sure that's okay?" His voice is uncharacteristically soft. He may be an Avenger and a crazy strong man, but he hated to disappoint, especially you.

"I'm sure," you said, a smile playing on your lips. "I was kind of hoping you'd give me a good excuse to skip out."

"Who's the party even with?"

"People you would hate."

"So you asked me to go?"

You cheekily grinned at him. "I had a feeling you would say no."

With an eye roll, he sighed and leaned back against the counter top. "So. How do we start this thing?"

"First thing's first. Let's order some take out and make hot chocolate. We can figure everything else out after."

#christmas #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #reader #gn!reader #fanfic #marvel #marvel x reader #chris evans

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zaraomarrogers · 20 hours ago

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Steve!!! You adorable, gentle giant!!

I loved it. It was such a tender read. Thank you for writing Steve and sharing with us.

Surprise Guest

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Warnings: Some dry humping, language, and self indulgent to the max.

Summary: Your brother Bucky invites a guest to spend Christmas with your family... you should have known it was Steve and that old feelings would come back up...

A/N: Hello, This is my first time writing for Steve and I would like to thank @buck-star for showing me their wonderful Fluffy Winter Event! Now if you are used to my BG3 content, this might be a bit different. But I love Steve so please don't judge! The heart wants what the heart wants. If you are new to my writing hi! hope you enjoy and if you have any ideas for Steve (or Chris Evans characters) just ask!

Tropes: Brothers Best Friend, Baking together, Dancing.

Word count: 6,469.

"Bucky's bringing a mystery guest? What, is it some new girlfriend?"

You tease, watching as your mother picks up your brother's old childhood room, fussing over the bedding and ensuring everything is still just as he left it. The only changes made are the sublet Christmas decorations to make the room appear more festive. She also kept your room in the same state when you left for college; it was like a time capsule every time you two came home for the holidays.

"Well, from my understanding, it's supposed to be some kind of surprise for us?" She says as she brushes the nonexistent dust from the curtains.

Scrunching your face and piercing your lips, you try to think about who Bucky could be bringing. It's no surprise Bucky is bringing a guest; he always seemed to bring home a stray or two when he came around for the holidays. Sometimes, it was girlfriends to meet Mom or friends from college, like Sam, who had spent last Thanksgiving with your family. But it's supposed to be a surprise… so it would have to be a girlfriend, right?

You end up just shrugging your shoulders. As long as Bucky didn't bring anyone that would make the holiday awkward, you really didn't care who was coming around.

Hours later, you're all still waiting for Bucky and the mystery guest to show up. Dad was asleep in his recliner as you and Mom wrapped presents while sharing memories from past Christmases. Fond memories flooded as you thought of the play fighting you and Bucky would always get into and the delicious sweets you would make with Mom. But the best part was just getting to see your family and making more memories with each other.

During your trip down memory lane, you didn't hear the door slowly opening, and you definitely didn't hear your brother sneaking up behind you. You did, however, feel when he suddenly squeezed you in a tight bear hug, making you scream.

Embarrassed at being spooked, you turn around and see that it's just Bucky laughing at your reaction. The panic you felt turns into elation as you hug your brother, "You asshole, you scared the crap out of me!"

Bucky laughs before ruffling your hair, "Wow, language Goober, we have a guest."

Ah, yes, the guest! You let go of Bucky and finally look towards the door, expecting to see an excited girlfriend, but when you look, your eyes feel like they're going to pop out of their sockets. Filling the doorway with a massive form was the surprise guest…tall, blonde, cute... Steve Rogers?

Blue eyes watch you intently as he stands holding what you assume to be his and Bucky's bags. You're still not even convinced it's him until you fully take in all the features of his face, full lips, nice nose, and sweet smile that shows off his cute dimples and perfect teeth. Holy shit, that is Steve.

Mom rushes up with a squeal when she sees Bucky. The loud squealing finally jerks your father awake from his snoring as he looks at what his wife could be screaming at. He seems to relax when he sees she's just fussing over Bucky like always. Usually, you would be messing with Bucky at this moment, teasing him about being late and being a mama's boy, but your focus has gone to the elephant or, well, the big bulky guy shaking your father's hand.

It's been years since you last saw Steve. Unconsciously, you touch your fingers to your lips as what feels like a storm floods your gut. You didn't mean to be staring at Steve, but you feel as if you're in shock. Of course, as you're staring, his eyes leave your fathers to return to you. He smiles at you, and it almost looks like he's about to approach before an excited, pitched scream from your mother has him startled and shooting a wide-eyed look at her.

Her excitement leaves your ears ringing as she goes to Steve, giving him a hug and promptly rubberbanding him for not coming to visit sooner. Steve just fumbles out some excuses as his eyes go from her to you and back to her. Looking back at Bucky, you inch yourself closer to him before swatting his shoulder.

"Ow! What?" He gripes.

"You didn't think to tell us it was Steve coming over?"

Bucky just gives you a smirk, "It was a surprise; you're surprised, right?"

“yeah…real surprised…” you mumble under your breath.

Both of you watch as your mom continues to gush over Steve, how it's been so long, how he's so tall and different looking, what he has been up to. All questions you wanted to ask yourself. Seeing Steve again throws you for the biggest loop, and frankly, it makes old feelings you thought died freshman year swell up. Why the hell is he here? After all this time, his face looks like some kind of sexy lab experiment gone all too right.

"Steve, we are just so happy to see you. It's been forever. I should have guessed it would have been you! Right, honey, we should have guessed!" Your mom throws her eyes towards you to see you with confused glare. "Sweetie? Aren't you going to say hi? It's Steve. Isn't that incredible!"

Some might think it's unbelievable…

Plastering an awkward smile to your face, you give a slight wave, "Hi Steve."

"Hey, Scout, it's nice to see you again; it's been a while." A smile is stretched on his full lips as he calls you his old nickname, you haven't heard in forever. You almost forgot how he always called you Girl Scout for running around with him and Bucky playing army and then baking cookies afterward. You hated that nickname before, but now that you think about it, the name fits.

There is a silence as your family watches the lukewarm reunion. Finally, your mom is moving over to you with a wide grin. "I don't think you're going to have to compare heights with him anymore." -Why is she bringing that up…

You may have had an obnoxious habit of every time Bucky would bring Steve over, you would stand next to him to compare heights. At first, it was just your little secret. You would be behind his back to make sure you weren't getting too tall too fast, but then it became a game. Steve was always a good sport about it, and you always hoped you wouldn't become taller than him. But now, as you look at his 6'2 stature, it's clear that fear wouldn't happen.

"I'll stand still so we can double-check," Steve chimes in, "It is kind of a tradition, Scout. What do you say?" Your mom looks expectantly as Bucky just gives Steve a quick pat on the back before sneaking off to the kitchen. You walk over to Steve, keeping your eyes steady on his, finding it hard not to roam your eyes down over his broad build. Okay, maybe you did seek a glance down his tight shirt, screaming across his chest, which leads to what you're sure is an impeccable abdomen and narrow waist. God, even his thighs underneath his jeans just look perfect to sit on. -Shit!

Burying down some horny thoughts, you stand in front of Steve, who now towers over you. From this close, you see that he's still every bit as cute (maybe even more handsome…), And he smells of that same musk you have come to recall so well, just this time there is just a hint of spruce. Steve has a smirk on his lips as he looks down at you, "Looks like you never got taller than me." he whispers as you judge your height with your hand; he's a whole head taller than you, maybe more.

Your cheeks flare with a blush that you're sure is reaching your ears. You look at his face, your eyes immediately going to his smiling lips, and those memories of that night in that lonely hallway come rushing back. Why is it equally wonderful to see him and make your stomach twist into a sicky storm?

"You're so tall now…" is all you can seem to answer, making Steve chuckle even more and you wish the ground would swallow you up ‘You're so tall now’ yeah no shit!

Finally, you're able to slip out an excuse completely modified at how you're turning into such a flustered schoolgirl! Steve stutters some kind of goodnight after you as you make your way up the stairs; turning back, the last thing you see is a concerned-looking Steve watching you.

You're quick to rush past all the Christmas decorations and tuck yourself away into your room, leaning your back against the door and doing what you found yourself not doing when you were so close to Steve: Breathe.

Steve Rogers, honestly, of course it's Steve. You should have considered it sooner since he's been your brother's best friend for years! He's so different now. He was as thin as a pin the last time you saw him. Now he's a total beefcake, and those fluttering feelings of a crush you thought were tamped down years ago are bubbling forward.

Steve was always a good friend, not only to your brother but to you and your family. Now that you think about it, he was always just a good person? He always defined your brother no matter what and would always help anyone in need. He was bullied and teased when you knew him, but that never stopped him from voicing his opinion and standing up for what was right. Sure, it often ended up with Steve with a busted lip and Bucky pummeling the bully, but you couldn't help but admire his courage and willingness to help people and his kindness.

A sigh slips from your chest… Steve's kindness… he really was kind, sometimes confusing, but ultimately kind…

During the winter dance, you still remember all the beautiful snowflakes in the air and the way the silver tinsel shined under the sparkling lights. It was a tradition that the school put on a Dance before winter break. As a jaded Senior, Bucky wasn't as impressed, but you, as a freshman, were beyond excited. You had saved for new heels, Mom helped you pick the perfect dress, and you even managed to somehow get a date! There was no way this night was going to be ruined!

The night did not go as planned.

Your new heels you got on sale? Snapped. The new dress you got? Ruined when someone ran into you with a full glass of punch. And your date? Your oh-so-wonderful date? He left to dance with some flirty junior…

Now, here you are, sitting on the floor outside of the dance, trying not to cry in the dark hallway. You listen to the music, just waiting until you finally hear the last song end. Then you can walk home with Bucky and Steve and forget about this embarrassing night. As if it were fate, a nearby door swings open, and who do you see? Steve Rogers.

Steve looks at you, and his jaw tenses; he immediately turns to go back into the dance to find and try to beat up your ex-date. Before he can, however, you're standing up and quickly grabbing Steve by the sleeve. Steve, being Steve, of course, pauses per your request, but you can tell he didn't want to.

Steve sits on the floor as you talk about your series of unfortunate events.

"So, how did you figure out I was out here?"

"When I saw your date dancing with Suzy, it kind of clued me in..." There was a short pause before Steve looked at you confused.

"Why did you even say yes to that idiot?"

Of course, that made you laugh before you shrugged, "I don't know. I think that I was just excited to be asked…"

Steve nods in understanding, "If that's the case, then I should have asked you."

You feel butterflies when he says it, and when you turn to look at him, he's looking forward with a noticeable blush. Dammit, he's cute.

As you sit there with Steve, the announcement of the final dance is made, and as you gather your courage to ask him to dance, Steve beats you to the question, "Dance with me?" he asked so quietly, almost like a whisper…

You smile, "I thought you didn't dance?"

"Let's just say I'm willing to dance with you."

"But I don't have shoes."

Steve just looks over at you with a warm smile before he stands, reaching his hand down towards you. "Then I guess you won't be taller than me." You bite your bottom lip as you take his hand, letting you get up. You look into his beautiful blue eyes, "I'm only an inch shorter than you and still growing."

Steve carefully places your hand on his shoulder before placing his hand on your waist, "Then let me enjoy this while I'm still tall enough to lead."

As the song goes, you dance with Steve, loving how he slightly stumbles and needs to look down at his feet every couple of paces. It's not until you move both his hands to your hips and wrap your arms to hug around his neck that the tension leaves him, and you can sway together in harmony. As you lean your head down to his shoulder, you take in his scent and surprising warmth.

"Thank you, Steve..." you whisper in his ear, Steve chuckles for a moment, his hands seeming to tighten slightly.

"I just wish I was a better dancer... for you."

"Well, I think that this is perfect." You look into his ocean eyes, "That you're perfect." His cheeks flush red as he smiles clearly not used to the complements.

You take the time to trace over his handsome features like you have so many times before, but instead of your staring being secret, Steve's eyes stay on you before they flick down your lips. Your heartbeat races, and you can feel yourself blushing redder. Caught, he quickly looks back into your eyes, but that's when you lean in, moving to play with the golden hair at the nape of his neck.

Swallowing, Steve focuses his eyes on your lips as he places his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

"Steve... please…"

"Y-You Sure?"

"Yes." That's all you had to say as you closed your eyes and felt Steve take your first kiss. His full lips started sweet and shy before you felt the feeling of his tongue timidly asking for permission to push past your lips. As soon as you let him in and his tongue brushes against yours, he pulls away.

Steve looks at you guilty before he backs away. "I gotta go... tell Bucky I said goodbye."

"Steve, wait!"

But as the song ended, Steve was already gone... leaving with your first kiss and leaving you completely confused.

Thinking back on the memory makes you groan as you go over to your bed, plopping down with a thump. Who the hell kisses someone then leaves! Were you bad at it? Damn you, Steve Rogers, you fucking nerd! That stormy feeling of rejection starts to bloom within your chest. Was it rejection? It felt like it... and after the kiss, things were different. He didn't come around as much, and then he graduated.

Now he's back, tall, and still so cute. Who are you kidding? Steve looks downright sexy, and it isn't even fair! People are not supposed to get hotter like that! Steve looks like he's been living at the gym while your acne just cleared up. And from what you have seen from him tonight, he's still just as charming and lovely…

oh, universe, tho, are such a cold bitch...

The following day hits you like a ton of bricks. You feel as if you didn't get one wink of sleep last night. Dreams ranging from memories to fantasies have kept you from getting any rest. Sighing, you roll out of bed and maybe put on just a little bit of makeup... - Just to look less tired, not for any other reason…

Finally, you make it downstairs, rounding your way over to the kitchen, where the smell of fresh coffee wafs through the air. The sight looks like one from a Christmas card, with the garland hanging from the window and the Christmas-themed tea towels everywhere. Then there's Mom making a frantic list of last-minute needs, Bucky checking his phone, and Steve? Oh, Steve. He stands drinking his cup of coffee, and his eyes seem to go from tired to bright as soon as they lock with yours.

You chime out a good morning as you enter the room. Mom and Bucky mutter out a grody morning in response.

“Good morning Scout, Coffee?” Steve says in what seems like anticipation and you just give him a small nod and a yes please as you walk to see what your mom is scratching away at.

Looking over her shoulder as you sit confirms your thought that she needs last-minute things. As soon as you sit, a mug of fresh coffee is placed in front of you, with cream and sugar to follow. Looking up, you see Steve looking down at you with that same kind smile.

Dammit, he's still so sweet…

"Such a gentleman..." your mom says almost teasingly. Yes, mom, you know! She gives you an expectant look, and all you can do is roll your eyes.

"Last-minute list? I thought last year you said you were never shopping on Christmas Eve again?" she sighs, ripping the paper from the pad. “Unfortunately, some things can't be helped. So while me and your brother are at the store, you, my favorite daughter, will do the baking."

"I'm your only daughter."

"Jury is still out on that." Bucky snarks

Rolling your eyes, you discreetly shoot Bucky the bird that he fakes being insulted by. Though as soon as mom looks up you two are going back to being civil. .

"What am I making this year?"

"Your wonderful Chocolate pie and Steve has requested Chocolate Chip Cookies." The request makes you give Steve a pointed look. He quickly turns away, making a fake whistle. You swear if he has only come back for your cookies, you don't care how big he is; you will throw him off the roof.

With the plans set Bucky slides out from his chair pocketing his phone, "Alright, Steve, let's get ready to go."

"Actually, I was going to hang back and give a hand with the baking." -what?

"She would love that! So kind!" Your mom beams -excuse me?

"Yeah, maybe you can help her keep the pies in one piece this year." Bucky snickers, teasing at the fact that every year, the pie always has a missing slice by morning. Bucky suspects it's you, considering you made it. You think it's Bucky, but nobody truly knows the truth.

"I'm not the pie thief you are," you say, pushing Bucky with your elbow. Of course, Bucky isn't just going to take that… so he shoves you back, and the sibling bickering starts.

"Am not"

"Are too!"

"Am Not!"

"Are Too!"

"Shut up!" Mom is quick to end the immature argument, but it doesn't stop you and Bucky from sticking your tongues out at each other—very mature.

"You, desserts, Bucky, with me, Steve, I'm sorry." With that, Buck and Mom are gone to do late shopping, leaving you and Steve alone in the kitchen.

It's quiet for a minute before Steve finally turns to you with a wide smile. "Just tell me what to do, Scout. You're in charge."

Ah, so you're leading now.

Grabbing the recipe book, you quickly flip through the pages until you find the right one. With a smile, you shove the book into his large hands. Steve doesn't even seem fazed as he keeps his eyes on yours.

"Chocolate pie, it's foolproof."

Steve cocks his head to the side, "Foolproof? Ouch, Scout."

"Don't pretend to be offended. I've heard you and Bucky call each other much worse."

Steve steps closer to you, “I don’t know you seem to have a bit of meanness in you know, I saw you give him the middle finger.” Steve tsk his lips and you wince, of course he saw that…

Not backing away from a challenge, you get even closer—so close you can smell the coffee off his breath. “Well Steve; you haven't seen me in a long time. I guess it only makes sense that I changed."

Steve shakes his head with a laugh as he looks over the recipe but keeping your little game going, "Don’t worry I plan on figuring that out while I'm here."

“Figuring out what?" you say crossing your arms and popping out your hip, Steve's eyes move to you as they roam slowly over your body, then he smirks.

"If you're still as sweet as I remember..." The way it just rolls off his tongue is so Sinful. Sure, he's still sweet, but now he's seemed to learn how to flirt. And with how your cheeks heat up from his words, you might be in trouble for falling even more for him.

Instead of quipping back, you just turn away and start gathering the ingredients you need. Trying desperately to ignore the budding tension. Baking in a kitchen with a handsome man can create its own kind of testion. But baking alone in a kitchen with an attractive man you once shared a first kiss with, now that tension could be cut with a knife.

Time passes as you two continue to silently bake, you wish the teasing had not ended so abruptly because now you are coming up with all the best comebacks, figures…

Turning your head over your shoulder, you watch Steve cut up the chocolate bricks in fine flakes. His large hands are coated in chocolate, and watching his muscles tense and move with the quick movements of the knife is mouthwatering…

Steve turns to look at you and gives you a soft smile. Quickly, you move your eyes to the cookie mix you're putting together, trying to seem like you are totally not staring at him, imagining how sweet his chocolate-coated fingers would be in your mouth. Rolling your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try to ground yourself in reality for a moment; you're in your parent's kitchen with your brother's best friend; this is not the time to be thinking horny thoughts.

While lost in your internal struggle, you feel a large hand placed on your hip; The hand is gripping tightly making warmth instantly shooting tingles down your spine. Looking up, you see Steve reaching for a bowl that is very conveniently placed in the cabinet above you. His cologne invades your senses, and you can't be too mad about it. Also, the subtle way he's pushing and leaning on you is making his crotch rub against your ass, either he knows exactly what he's doing or doesn't care to give you any personal space. You imagine it's the latter.

Once he's retrieved the bowl his breath is fanning against your ear, and his velvet voice numbs your mind to mush: " Sorry, Scout. I needed to grab a bowl." Oh, he's toying with you.

Finding your grip on reality, you take your bowl of cookies and push yourself out of Steve's sexy radiance. "Next time, ask, huh?"

You move over to the mixer and start mixing up the dough. You hear Steve clear his throat over the mixture. Looking over your shoulder again, you see his broad frame diligently mixing the filling over the stove. You hate how much you enjoy looking at him and his cute butt…

"Are you worried I'm messing up the mixing?" he calls over his shoulder. You quickly turn around and add the chocolate chips to the fluffy dough.

"Like I said... foolproof, I'm not worried." You say, trying to sound confident.

"So there's another reason why you're staring at me this whole time?" Does he have eyes in the back of his head!?

"I wasn't-"

"Don't even try it," Steve warns as he finally pours the chocolate mix into the pie crust and puts it in the oven to bake. Finally, he turns to face you, Crossing his massive arms in front of him. "I've felt your eyes on me this whole time."

Shit... Returning to your mixer, you do your old faithful tactic when you don’t want to answer a question, “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

You hear a groan thinking you have won but then there's a small sigh, "I know you're mad at me..."

That makes you pause. Mad at him? Were you mad at him? Part of you was for awhile but when you really think about it now you're more confused than anything. You take a deep breath and finally say the one thing you had thought about most after that kiss.

"You don't just kiss someone and then run away you know."

You finally turn and see that you have Steves full attention, he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly trying to gather his thoughts.

"I know." he finally gets out.

"Then why did you-"

"I kissed you at the wrong time..." That throws you for a loop. Steve's blush makes the tips of his ears bright red as he continues." You were... lonely and sad..."

It's your turn to interrupt, "Steve Rogers, did you pity kiss me?"

Steve's eyes widen as he quickly reaches for you but holds off, "No! No, it was a real kiss... for me, it was a real kiss."

"What do you mean? That kiss felt real to me, I mean, it was my first kiss..."

You feel yourself wanting to put up your guard but before you can you feel Steve's hands gently sliding up and down your arms before moving to your shoulders carefully brushing away your hair, "I want it to be better. To be right.” Steve's blue eyes look so softly down at you and you feel ensnared all over again. You lean in, and it feels all so familiar. When his hand comes to your cheek and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, “When I kiss you again, you will know what I mean..."

God, you want him to kiss you again,

”When?” You question.

Steve leans in, his breath fanning over your lips, “How else will I know if you taste as sweet as you did that night..”

You feel like you're melting as you close your eyes, the memories of his tongue tasting like peppermint making you crave it now. You rise to your tiptoes as Steve's arms curl around you, but before you can do anything, the oven's timer is going off.

Both of you jump before frantically looking for the oven mitts, running into each other as you reach for the oven. Finally, you two get the stove open and pull the pan out at the same time. It's so frantic and excessive you both can't help but laugh as you hold the pie.

"What are you two doing?" The sudden voice of bucky practically scares the crap out of you.

Steve looks at his friend then just cocks his head, “Baking, obviously.”

Bucky, ever clueless, just shakes his head as he puts bags of groceries away, you can not believe you almost kissed him again! And almost got caught. You take the pie and place it down to get cooled off. As you turn you run into your mother who is looking at you confused, you think for a moment she's trying to read your mind but then she places her cold hands to your cheeks.

“Steve, what did you do to my girl? She looks flushed?”

Steve just chuckles as he helps with the groceries, “I think she was standing too close to the oven, making her get hot.”

You give him an unamused look, he knows what made you hat and it wasn't a damn oven.

Hours later, long after you and Steve had finished the desserts, after sitting with your Mom and watching the same Christmas movies you did every year (though this year you might have been distracted…) and going to bed, you find that you're still tossing and turning thinking about Steve; what does he mean when he kisses you again… is he going to? You almost did, but then your family walked in… Will he have the chance? And what does he mean you taste sweet!

2am, and you're still thinking about him; years later, he can still rile you up and keep you second-guessing. Just is not fair, damn hot people…

Not seeing any end to your torment, you decide it's time for the perfect late-night medicine: a sweet treat. Making your way down to the kitchen as quietly as possible, you find the Christmas-themed Tupperware stashing the cookies and take one. The sweetest is only a temporary relief to your racing mind, however. Further trying to distract yourself, you open the fridge, checking the pie, making sure it's still intact, and it is.

When you close the fridge, you lazily look around the dimly lit room till you see Steve in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and no shirt. Seriously, universe…

"Looks like Bucky is right; you are the pie thief."

"I was just checking on it, not eating it."

Steve steps into the kitchen, takes a seat at the table, and gets himself a cookie as well. You decide to join in, your minds already filled with him. What's the harm?

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I thought I heard a pie theft." he taunts, making you chuckle, but it dies off quickly, and that same tension starts piling up again.

"I was up thinking about you," Steve suddenly admits, "Thinking back on that night…"

"The night you ran off with my first kiss?" You say it more bitterly than you meant it, but Steve doesn't seem to flinch.

"I had thought of kissing you a long time before then," he confesses, warming your cheeks.

"Why didn't you?"

Steve doesn't look at you while he shrugs his mind on the past, "One, there's an unspoken rule about best friends, sisters, and… I didn't feel good enough, scrawny punk kissing a beautiful, kind girl like you. Thought you would have been modified. Then at the dance when we danced together… you called me perfect. Girls would have never thought to say that, but you did, and I just couldn't help it. When I kissed you, I knew it was wrong, and then I ran, which was even more messed up."

Steve ends his confession by turning to you with a smile, "I screwed it up,"

You two sit silently, looking out the window into the dark, snowing night, "If you messed it up, why come back?"

"I was hoping for a second chance, but… when I saw how mad you were and when we interrupted it… it kinda brought me back to reality, shook me and my plan up…"

Tilting your head, you look at him confused, "Your plan?"

You see, Steve blushes, "Charm you, and I hope I get to do it right this time…"

Your laugh was involuntary. You couldn't believe that after all this time, he wanted a do-over. Steve Rogers, you are the biggest dork, and you love it. He looked embarrassed at you, laughing at his confession, but then you stood from your chair and reached down towards him. "Well? How are you going to charm me sitting down? This is your last chance, Steve. Don't blow it."

Steve grabs your hand, standing to his towering height, "What's the first step in the plan, Steve? I'll let you lead."

"First…" Steve steps closer, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck and his hands to hide purchase on your fuzzy pajama bottom hips. "We sway just like that night."

The two of you start to sway in that same slow dance, and though there is no music, you both know which one is playing in your mind as you move in perfect rhythm. Your hands move from his soft hair to slide down to his chest, where you feel his heart racing through his bare chest. He watches you intently before carefully bringing you to press against his warm body. You can no longer tuck your head into his neck, so you lean into his chest. Steve pauses, and you feel him bring his hand to your cheek, having you look up at him.

"Second, I will tell you how I think you're the prettiest, funniest, kindest girl I've ever met and how, for years, I have thought of you."

You bite your lip as you look into his blue eyes, which reflect the colors of the Christmas lights. "When's the part where you kiss me?" you say, a tad breathless.

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, looking at their flushed color, "That's step three after I ask…"

"Steve, kiss me before I lose my mind and pummel you."

That was the exact invitation Steve was waiting for because the next thing you know, he's leaning down and kissing your lips slowly. His hands cupped your cheeks before sliding back down to your waist, his mouth carefully guiding you. It's just as sweet and warm as the first time, but now, with how he moves his lips gently with yours, you can tell he's practiced. Rising your toes, you wrap your hands around his neck and swipe your tongue against his lips, begging for them to part. Once they do, you slip your tongue to taste his. A slight grunt leaves his throat as his hands tighten -Yeah, you learned some things last time.

Steve slides his hands down your body to find purchase on your ass, giving a squeeze and forcing a moan from you in the process before he lifts you up and places you on the contour. Breaking the kiss, he looks at your red face, catching your breath, "taste sweet.." he mumbles before tilting your head up to leave open-mouth kisses on your neck.

The feeling of his burning tongue swiping at your sensitive skin has you tightening your thighs to try to ease your aching clit that's begging to feel him closer. As he's licking and marking your skin with reckless abandonment, your hands are pawing and tugging at his soft hair. Holding on to dear life, his head goes lower and lower, passing your collarbone. This must be that real kiss he talked about before.

Your wandering hands meet the prominent bulge pressed against your leg; softly touching the hardness makes Steve pause as he softly moans into your neck.

"Steve.." His lips kiss your neck slowly as he spreads your thighs, moving in between them.

"Yes, baby… what do you want? Anything you want..." he says into your skin, making you shiver as his lips caress your sweet spot.

You feel his bulge finally press against your covered cunt, and you can't help but gasp, "I want to feel you…" you finally tremble out as you move your hips slowly over him, grinding on his cock.

Steve watches you in awe for a moment before he's repositioning himself and rocking his hips so the nip nudges your clothed clit over and over. Part of you think this might be a delicious dream; there is no way you're actually dry-humping with Steve on your kitchen table in your parent's house, is there? But when his fat tip teases your clit again, making your toes curl, you know this is a dream, this is real, and you don't care. You need him now.

You're about to shimmy out of your bottoms and pull Steves down as well, but the sound creaking of the stairs has you both snapping back to reality. The reality is your hands are about to pull down your pants while Steve has a huge tending boner, and you're on the kitchen table; if caught, there is no explaining that one. So quickly, you're hopping off the table and eagerly pulling Steve to hide in the kitchen's pantry with you. Safely hidden, you and Steve peer through the panty's louvered door to see who is ruining your late-night treat.

Tiptoeing through the kitchen, you see your father making his way to grab a fork and then going to the fridge. Unbelievable. You owe Bucky an apology.

"That sneaky little—" Before you can finish whispering, you feel Steve wrapping his arms around you, his length pushing against you. Turning around carefully, you face him. Only the light streaming in illuminates his face, and you can just see that affection filling his eyes.

Steve gently kisses your lips again, finding them way too easy in the dim dark. His hands curl around your waist, and his head rests in the crook of your neck. His warm breath makes you melt all too quickly.

"Scout, I've liked you for so long…" he says into your neck.

Cuddling him closer, you're about to confess your feelings, those feelings that you had from the moment you met him. Then, the pantry door opens, and you meet your father's shocked expression. His daughter is hiding in the pantry with tousled hair, and her brother's best friend, who is shirtless, is embracing each other. Not a great look…

Eyes going wide as you push yourself away from Steve, trying to fix your hair. Steve clears his throat awkwardly, turning his back towards your father, trying in vain to hide his prevalent bulge. Starting to fumble out an excuse, you're stuttering and panicking for an explanation, but your father is slowly shutting the door before you can even get out a syllable.

You stare at the Shut door in shock. "He's so going to blab to my mother," you groan.

Back in the darkness, you feel Steve wrapping his arms around you. "Would that be so bad? She has been hinting about us getting together."

"Bucky is going to kick your ass."

Steve kisses your neck again, quickly learning where to tease you with his soft lips. "That's fine if you agree. Come out with me for New Year's." Turning, you press your cheek to his chest, cuddling closer.

"Can we go dancing?

Steve Chuckles as he kisses your head and holds you tighter, says, "We can do whatever you want. I want to make up for lost time."

"Better late than never."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #christmas

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thereoncewasagirlnamedjane · 2 days ago

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shenanigans.

‣ pairing — steve rogers x f!reader

‣ contents — short meaningless drabble, established relationship, a light dusting of spice, fluff? and merry christmas eve my darlings! 💕

‣ summary — you follow steve into a dark closet 😏

‣ word count — 476

✩ read on ao3 ✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

It takes Steve a few seconds for his mind to catch up to what’s happening.

He went to the linen closet to grab some paper towels when he spilled champagne all over himself like an idiot, only to find that the kitchen was all out. He’d just grabbed a new roll when you came striding up behind him, shoving him into the closet and closing the door behind you.

Then your hands were on him, roaming enthusiastically over the ugly, scratchy wool sweater stretched over his torso. He’d bought it earlier this week at a thrift store, endlessly amused when it lit up obnoxiously with the flick of a switch.

“Honey—” he startles, especially when your hands fist into his sweater so you can spin around and pin him against the door. He allows himself to be manhandled, despite grunting softly upon impact out of sheer surprise.

You make a small, pleased sound at the back of your throat, before leaning up on your toes to kiss him.

“Sweetheart—” he mumbles against your eager lips, already a little breathless when you giggle at knocking over some nearby rolls of wrapping paper and a box containing a stray bundle of shiny tinsel in your haste to get him alone.

“Yes, Steve?” You purr, your hands on his chest pushing him firmly against the door, grinning wildly when his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush.

“But the party—”

Music is still audible through the door, turned up so loud he can feel the bass thumping against his back. Surely, the other guests and the hosts have noticed both your absences by now.

“But you just look so…” you trail off with a sigh, scanning him up and down. Steve’s never been one to care about his looks, but—oh, he’s seen that look before; your eyes sparkling with barely contained mischief, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and one of your legs slotting between his.

He almost chokes on nothing. His cheeks burn once again, but of course he likes it very much when you get all handsy.

Steve quickly grasps the hem of his sweater, ready to whip it across the tiny closet when you stop him with a gentle hand. “No, leave it on.”

“Really?” He asks with an incredulous smile, looking down at the red and green abomination of fabric. It was perfect for the holiday party the Starks are currently throwing in the other room, but this is interesting. “The sweater’s doing it for you?”

The only answer you give is a salacious grin of your own and, “shut the hell up and touch me already.”

Steve only hesitates for a split second before grinning and turning on his light up sweater, his large hands palming the curve of your hips and then sliding even further.

Yeah, you’re right.

Screw the party.

fin.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x asian!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fluff

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witchywithwhiskey · 8 months ago

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the alpha next door

pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader

summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov

word count: 8.9k

a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!

When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were.

The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved.

But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…

Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him.

The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.

When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside.

On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.

Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart.

As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.

That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.

That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.

But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.

That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.

He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door.

Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume.

So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent.

Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.

Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit.

But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.

Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help.

But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.

“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.

One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up.

That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.

Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you.

Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup.

He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.

It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come.

He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.

A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged.

Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.

Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing.

The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him.

But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.

Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.

Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.

Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat.

His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.

When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.

You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.

A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve.

The alpha next door was just so…sweet.

It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor.

And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.

Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?

It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet.

It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together.

You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard.

Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous.

Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun.

You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.

It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…

Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.

Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body.

Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.

The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically.

You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.

The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…

You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.

Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve.

“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.

You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due.

You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.

“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you.

The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it.

��Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock.

You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.

It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!”

So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more.

It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun.

Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway.

Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.

Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve.

“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength.

Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together.

In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.

“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes.

Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.

Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.

Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.

He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands.

Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges.

Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.

Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.

You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.

At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…

God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you.

Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.

That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his.

You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy.

It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped.

“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you.

As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.

By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound.

But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.

“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole.

The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body.

Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.

“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.

He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.

With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.

“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy.

Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.

“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?”

As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot.

Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.

“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach.

“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.

“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in.

Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.

“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?”

Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.

“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.”

Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot.

You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.

You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it.

Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door.

The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible.

Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment.

Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.

“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words.

You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.

“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed.

“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”

You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt.

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!”

“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.”

“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast.

Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.

As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.

For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver.

Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet.

But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.

You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips.

“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer.

Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.

“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”

Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot.

It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.

“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.

When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr.

“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him.

“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness.

You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him.

“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.

The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.

Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.”

You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.”

Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”

You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate.

But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.

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arpicityandneed · 1 month ago

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You, Me, and the King

18+ f!reader. King bucky. Knight Steve. Queen reader. Dirty talk. polyship. light choking. creampie. Cuckolding. Voyeur!Steve.

If anyone noticed the visible bulge in the Steve's breeches they knew better than to say anything. The hefty sword he carried on his hip mixed with the deadly glare he gave everyone that passed by helped. They also knew better than to comment on the high pitched wails coming from the door Steve was guarding with his life. The new King and Queen were still on their honeymoon, locked away for days on end as they worked to fulfill their duty to the kingdom.

"J-James!"

He had you on your knees, your arms long since having given out as he thrusted into you. Every plap plap plap of his balls against your swollen clit echoed by the squelching of your pussy gobbling up his cock greedily. James pulled you up until his hand was around your throat, his hips never ceasing as he forced your back to arch. It made you squeal when he hit that special spot inside you. (Outside the door Steve had to clench his jaw and readjust his erection. He knew exactly what that sound meant, he heard it often enough now.)

You were usually quiet and shy, hiding at your King's side and whispering in his ear when you did have something to say. But every single time James got his cock in you, you couldn't help yourself. And your husband loved it.

"That's it my Queen. Let them, fuck, let him hear you sing for me." James let his scarred left arm wrap around you, his massive hand finding your clit easily as he fucked himself into your slick folds. You'd long since felt your own juices run down to your knees. You were sure James' balls were sticky as well.

"Please, James, I can't-" you sobbed as you came again, milking his thick shaft and making him curse.

"But you can, my love. Just a couple more. You have to if you're to give me an heir." He cooed at you, holding up your limp body as you tried to keep up with his endless stamina.

"Steve will lick you all better if you're sore later, promise." Your pussy tightened at the mention of your husband's head knight making James groan loud and filthy in your ear.

The man had grown up with your King, and you knew James trusted him more than he trusted anyone else. He'd even entrusted you to the blond. When your King was busy and you were aching, it was Steve who used his mouth and his fingers to make you feel all better. You'd even had him in your mouth when you felt bold. You wanted to practice, get better at pleasing your new husband. Steve always taught you so kindly knowing exactly what his King liked. You suspected they were more intimate than they let on and the thought made your pussy throb. But you'd never had Steves cock inside you. It was the one rule you had to follow. So when your husband mentions Steve you can't stop the embarrassed whimper that escapes you.

"I know, I know, you want his cock too." Your face burned at the truth of his words, and he laughed feeling your pussy get impossibly tight around him. "Just gotta let my cum all the way in your pretty tummy first. Gotta give me an hier."

"I'll be g-good, give you baby. Promise!" You knew Steve could hear every single word. Knew he'd be suckling on your clit later as he fucked James' cum back into you with his thick fingers when it leaked out. The very thought made you cum again, your fluttering walls dragging James along with you. He cursed, his grip tightening around your throat as his cock throbbed inside you.

"Take it my love, take every fucking drop-" He growled as he grabbed at the fat of your hip, using the leverage to fuck every spurt of cum deeper than the last.

When you both collapsed onto the bed, he cradled you to his chest kissing you slow and deep and drugging. You expected him to let you go to help you clean up a bit like he normally did. But he made no move to separate himself from you. You felt your cheeks heat once more when you realized why.

"James-" Your husband's icy blue eyes were locked onto where your bodies were joined, of the creamy mess he'd made of your pussy, but he seemed to know what you were asking if the smirk on his plump lips was anything to go by.

"Shh, just making sure it takes."

pt. 2

#bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #steve ☆#bucky ☆#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve x reader #mina writes ☆#marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #f!reader

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espinosaurusrexex · 10 months ago

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Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket.

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster.

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes.

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other.

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him.

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side.

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk.

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them.

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.”

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold.

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room.

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.”

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that.

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do.

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?”

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling.

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job.

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude.

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile.

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision.

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them.

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now.

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year.

There was just one problem.

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes.

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist.

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again.

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event.

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem.

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now.

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors.

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail.

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor.

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well.

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought.

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye.

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant.

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them.

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in.

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water.

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward.

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless.

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours.

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.”

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to.

“Wait you’re working for SPS?”

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body.

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again.

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden.

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating.

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind.

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile.

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you.

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready.

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys.

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it.

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic.

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future.

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them.

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder.

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world.

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea.

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen.

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.”

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.”

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office.

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant.

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary.

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.”

And so you did.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen.

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh.

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat.

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened.

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside.

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly.

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath.

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that.

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.”

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal.

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation.

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato.

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been.

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer.

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises.

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door.

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain.

“He’s very admirable for that.”

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional.

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face.

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep.

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now.

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head.

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.”

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

“Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside.

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone.

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar.

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous.

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought.

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop.

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled.

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home.

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right.

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod.

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table.

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown.

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.”

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing.

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day.

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched.

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?”

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known.

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand.

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower.

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home.

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes.

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door.

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...”

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest.

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek.

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself.

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him.

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen.

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug.

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer.

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed.

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture.

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away.

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking.

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body.

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly.

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it.

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless.

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day.

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You.

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence.

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair.

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided.

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him.

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you.

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him.

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you.

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day.

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve.

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us.

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind.

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture.

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve.

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face.

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed.

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again.

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected.

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered.

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you.

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same.

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again.

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew.

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent.

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.”

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer.

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?”

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again.

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet.

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight.

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head.

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile.

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla.

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat.

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all.

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop.

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?”

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name.

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile.

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted.

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth.

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again.

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings.

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions.

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire.

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time.

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future.

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed.

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky.

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out.

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away.

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them.

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off.

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now.

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth.

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it.

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome.

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it.

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city?

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement.

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose.

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours.

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer.

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint.

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect.

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him.

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating.

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans.

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath.

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear.

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you.

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time.

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you.

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips.

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern.

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise.

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him.

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them.

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers.

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest.

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy.

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up.

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap.

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.”

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip.

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal.

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then.

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit.

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult.

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you.

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy.

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm.

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance.

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back.

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.”

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his.

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs.

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer.

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth.

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of.

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy.

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

You already know your girl couldn't decide which GIF to use. So here are the extra ones:

Woooow, you've made it this far! Thank you so much 💕 If you have some time to spare, I would reaaaally appreciate some feedback from you. A comment or a reblog can help so much to reach more people and improve writing. Talk to you soon ~Meg 💞

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @mcu21lover19 @almosttoopizza @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @blackhawkfanatic @augustbucky @kandis-mom @harleycao @ashhsage @hhiggs @scott-loki-barnes @gabshouse @barnes1031 @am-3-thyst @awkotaco24 @fangirl-swagg @she-wolf09231982

also tagging my steve tags (for everyone who wanted an update on Bambi) 🤗 :

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imyourbratzdoll · 9 months ago

Note

Breeding Kink Steve/Bucky eventho you already have a couple of kids 🫣

hi baby! I'm so sorry for taking so long, I hope you like what I wrote.

summary - breeding kink gone wild, your husbands take it to the next level by forever wanting you to carry their child.

warning - smut, breeding kink, sorta dubcon but not really, mentions of pregnancy, creampie, threesome.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“C’mon, Doll. Let us pump you full, want you to have our babies.” Bucky groans in your ear, pressed against your back where you can feel his bulge. You whine, letting out a breathy whimper as Steve grips your hips, pressing soft kisses to your neck, occasionally marking it as well.

“What do you say, Sweetheart? Wanna be full of our cum?”

You squirm, vision becoming hazy as lust clouds your mind. “B–but, we already have two…” Your head falls back, moaning loudly as their cocks slide inside of you without much warning. You didn’t even see them take their cocks out. Your cunt clenches around them, arousal dripping down their thick members, making it easier for them to thrust into you.

“Doesn’t matter, Doll. We wanna breed you forever and watch you grow with our child.” Bucky thrusts in and out, hands sliding up your body until they grasp your breasts. His moans so close to your ear that it causes tingles to spread throughout your body, your cunt clenching around your men.

Steve groans, biting down on his bottom lip hard as he looks down at you with dark eyes. Your own cloudy ones connect with his, lips parting as you feel them pulse inside of you, gripping them tightly when they hit your sweet spot. Steve’s eyes roll to the back of his head and groans slip past his lips as he pounds into you hard and fast, feeling your little cunt clench around him from his brutal thrusts.

They continue to have their way with you, fucking you so hard that you see stars. Your juices squirt out of you, causing their cocks to twitch and pump you full of their cum once again. Filling you with large amounts that will likely be the cause of your next pregnancy. Steve and Bucky take turns kissing your lips before cleaning you up. They lay you down on your large bed and grin as they caress your stomach, waiting for the moment you pop this one out for them to start all over again.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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navybrat817 · 3 months ago

Text

Lovelies, I'm exhausted and in a mood. Indulge with me, if you will.

Warnings: Steve Rogers, explicit sexual content, dry humping, grinding

banner by the talented @cafekitsune

We all know Steve Rogers can fuck for hours, right? Peak condition and all, but can we talk about the flip side and how sensitive he is some days? Just hard for absolutely no reason and he feels like he'll blow his load if you even look in his direction?

So, naturally, you decide to be a little bratty when you see him on the couch trying to hide the massive hard-on he’s sporting. And why wouldn't you play a little? The thought of the commanding, blonde, sculpted super soldier about to burst because of you is just too hot to ignore.

“Aww. Poor Steve. Hard in your pants just because I walked into the room,” you tease as you straddle him, the outline of his cock making you shiver. He's strong enough to push you away, but doesn't. So you take it as an invitation to shove your hips down in a slow, dirty grind. “Let me take care of that for you.”

He grunts, his pretty blue eyes fluttering as you roll your hips. You arch your back when he grips them hard enough that you can feel it in your bones. Other than that, he doesn't move. In fact, he hardly breathes. Because he doesn't want to lose it so quickly.

“Keep doing that and I'll come in my pants,” he grits.

And that makes you double your efforts.

You tug at his hair, biting at his soft lower lip. His eyes are hazy, his breathing heavy. “All the panties you've made me ruin. Only fair I return the favor just this once.” You smirk when his head falls back. “Can you smell how wet I am? Bet you wish you were fucking me. Too bad. You owe me an orgasm first.”

“Sweetheart.” He warns, his voice a bit hoarse, his cheeks flushed. He's beautiful. He’s yours.

“It's okay. You can come. I want you to. Make a mess for me.” Your lips move to his ear to breathe out, “Captain.”

Steve moans your name when you shove your hips down once more and he finally moves. His body shudders and you can't help but smile when you feel the wet patch through the fabric. You made Steve Rogers, Captain America, come in his pants. God, he even whimpers when he’s finally spent.

“Think you can get it up again, old man?” You tease.

Steve may spank you when he bends you over the arm of the couch and makes another mess.

This time inside you.

Nothing to see here, lovelies! Go about your business! ❤️

#navybrat writes #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #x reader #steve rogers smut

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evansbby · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.

𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!

“The girl’s ready, Captain.”

Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”

“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve’s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.

His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.

That left Steve. But Steve had this.

I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.

Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.

And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.

You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.

“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”

Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.

“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.

Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.

And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.

After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.

And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.

“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”

Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…

“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.

He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.

“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”

“Get on the bed.”

“H-Huh?”

“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”

Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.

And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.

Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.

Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.

What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.

“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.

The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.

“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.

You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”

Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.

“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.

“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”

“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”

Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”

He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.

“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”

Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.

“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”

You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.

He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.

“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.

“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.

It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.

“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”

You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.

“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”

“Take it out.”

A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.

“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.

“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”

He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.

“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”

“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.

“Stroke it.” He instructs you.

You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”

“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”

You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.

“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”

Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.

“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”

You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.

He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.

“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.

Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.

“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”

“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”

Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?

He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.

“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”

“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”

Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.

Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.

“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”

You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.

Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.

But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.

“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.

“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”

There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”

“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”

Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.

Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.

He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.

He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.

“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.

“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.

“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”

He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.

Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.

“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.

With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.

It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.

You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.

“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”

It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.

He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.

“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.

You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,” you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”

Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.

“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”

His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.

“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”

With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.

“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me.”

You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.

“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.

“You’ve never fingered yourself?”

“No!”

“Tell me why not.”

You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”

A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?�� His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”

The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.

“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.

Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”

You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.

“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”

This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.

“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”

He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”

It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.

And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.

“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.

He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.

“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.

“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.

“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”

You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.

“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”

His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.

“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”

You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”

“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.

“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.

Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.

Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.

But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.

He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”

Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…

He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…

“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”

How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.

“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.

“N-No, Captain.”

“Why not?”

“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.

Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.

“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.

Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.

Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.

He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.

Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.

He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.

He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.

“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.

He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.

He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.

Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.

He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.

Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.

“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.

“Yes.”

You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.

You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.

“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”

A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.

He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.

Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.

“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”

You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.

“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.

The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).

You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.

“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”

He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.

“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.

Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.

The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.

He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You’ve passed out.

“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.

“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.

It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.

“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.

“I-It hurts!”

“Address me properly.”

“C-Captain, it hurts!”

He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”

Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.

“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”

Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.

“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”

You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”

Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!

With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.

“Now you can scream.”

“Huh?”

He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.

A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.

“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”

Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.

“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.

“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”

Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.

I deserve this, he thinks to himself.

He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.

“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”

You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”

“Answer me!”

“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.

Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”

The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…

For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.

“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.

“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”

Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.

He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.

“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.

He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”

You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.

“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”

He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.

“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –

“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.

“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”

“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.

“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”

“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”

Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.

“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.

You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.

He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.

Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.

With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.

He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.

“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”

This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.

“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.

With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air. It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.

“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”

It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.

“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”

“Wh-What?”

He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.

He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.

“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”

Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.

“Use your words.”

“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”

You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.

“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.

“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.

Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”

You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.

You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.

All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.

He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.

“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”

“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”

He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.

“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”

“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”

He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.

And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.

“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”

You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”

“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.

But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.

“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”

You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”

“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”

Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”

“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.

“Wh-What–”

“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”

Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”

He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.

“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”

Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.

With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.

Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.

“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”

Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”

Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”

“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

“N-No, I–”

He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.

“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.

“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”

You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.

The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.

“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.

“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.

Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.

Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.

***

It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.

The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.

“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.

“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”

The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.

“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”

“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”

They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.

“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.

His beautiful, broken little bride.

“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”

Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.

Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.

He deserved this.

AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.

ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

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brunchable · 4 months ago

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Play Dirty | Steve Rogers x f!reader [18+]

Words: 8.7K Warning: SMUT. Public teasing with use of sex toy, jealous!steve, a bit of gaslighting, steve being very demanding, hard edging, overstimulation, Oral (M and F), Cunnilingus, fingering, tit fucking, deep-throating, dirty talking, spanking, praising, unprotected piv. Sneak Peak: Steve shifted in his seat, his hand slipping casually into his pocket. You didn’t think much of it at first—until a large shock vibrated through your core and made you gasp in surprise from the intense pleasure. For a second, you froze. A wave of heat rushed through your body as you realized exactly what was happening. Steve had the remote—the small, discreet device that was supposed to be in your handbag—and now, he has it and he was using it. Here. In front of everyone. A/N: whew.

Bucky’s grin widened as you approached, his usual charm on full display. “Look who finally decided to show up,” he teased, offering you a drink. You took it, brushing your hand against his as you did, and laughed at something he said, the two of you falling into easy conversation like always.

Steve, standing a few feet away, felt his stomach tighten painfully at the sight. You and Bucky had grown closer—closer than Steve had anticipated, especially since your recent missions together. He hadn’t realized how much that closeness bothered him until tonight. It wasn’t that Steve hadn’t accepted the "break" you both agreed on, but seeing the way you leaned into Bucky’s space, laughing at every joke, brushing your hand against his arm, it was like salt on an open wound.

The knot in his chest tightened further with every glance you gave Bucky. It was the easy way you talked to him, the subtle, lingering touches. Little things that shouldn’t have meant much—unless you knew how Steve was feeling. And God, he was feeling everything right now.

As the evening wore on, the air around Steve grew thick with tension. He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Natasha, ever perceptive, caught Steve’s darkening expression from across the room. She smirked knowingly as she wandered over.

“Cap, you alright?” she asked, keeping her tone light but teasing. She knew exactly what was going on.

Steve grunted, his gaze never leaving you and Bucky. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice made it clear he was anything but.

Natasha chuckled softly. “You sure? Because it looks like you’re about to burn a hole through Barnes with that stare.”

Before Steve could respond, Tony, as usual, appeared just in time to stir the pot. “Hey, Rogers,” he called out, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You don’t look too happy. What’s up? Jealous that your old pal’s getting all the attention?”

Steve clenched his jaw, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not jealous,” he replied, though the tension in his voice betrayed him.

Tony grinned wider, sensing weakness. “Oh, come on, Cap. It’s written all over your face.”

Steve didn’t respond, but the uneasy feeling only grew as the night wore on. Every laugh you shared with Bucky, every small touch, seemed to deepen the knot in his chest. He hadn’t even meant to dwell on the past, but here it was, staring him in the face.

The final straw came when Sam, ever the observer, caught on to the tension and decided to add his own bit of teasing. “Hey, Steve,” he called from across the room, “You gonna survive the night? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Bucky’s got quite the new partner-in-crime.”

Bucky, always attuned to the energy around him, caught Steve’s glare. Sensing the tension, he leaned in closer to you, his hand resting gently on your lower back, a gesture that Steve noticed instantly. It was subtle, almost protective, and the sight of it made Steve’s blood boil.

“Yeah,” Bucky added with a playful grin, “We’ve been working very well lately.”

You laughed, completely unaware of the unspoken battle happening right next to you. “Bucky’s a good partner,” you agreed, nudging Bucky playfully.

Steve’s hand clenched in his pocket, fingers wrapping around the outline of the device that you dropped which he still hadn’t returned to you. His composure remained intact, but jealousy and frustration were etched into his features, plain for anyone paying attention to see.

It wasn’t just the obvious things getting to him—the laughing, the touching—it was the small details. The way your smile lit up when you were around Bucky, the way you leaned into his jokes. They might’ve seemed innocent enough, but to Steve, they felt like a subtle reminder of the growing distance between you and him.

Tony, always quick to sense when things could be pushed further, glanced at Steve with a smirk. “Well, Steve,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, “I guess you don’t really have the same… control over things anymore, huh?”

Steve’s eyes darkened, Tony’s words hitting a little too close to home. He said nothing, swallowing down the jealousy and frustration as the night wore on, watching as the bond between you and Bucky only seemed to deepen. The growing distance between you and him was becoming painfully clear, and there was little he could do but stand by and let it unravel in front of him.

× × × ×

You and Bucky sat close on the couch, exchanging teasing comments and unaware of how effortlessly you were riling Steve up. His friends had noticed too, and the teasing directed at Steve had only gotten more relentless as the night wore on. Steve, ever the calm and composed leader, sat across from you, trying to act unbothered as Tony and Sam continued their playful jabs.

“You sure there’s nothing going on, Cap?” Tony asked, grinning as he threw a look between you and Steve. “Because it’s looking like Barnes is making a move.”

Steve’s jaw clenched hard, though his face remained otherwise neutral. “There’s nothing going on,” he said calmly, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

Bucky, picking up on the shift in the atmosphere, leaned in just a bit closer to you, giving you a sideways smirk. “You hear that, Y/N? Seems like nothing’s going on with Steve. Guess we’re free to keep having fun, right?”

“Seems that way.” You chuckled softly, leaning into Bucky’s shoulder just a little more while giving his knee a squeeze, knowing exactly what effect it was having on Steve.

Steve’s eyes flicked to you, his blue gaze intense, his lips curving into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. You knew that look—like he had something up his sleeve. The game had been fun, but there was always a part of you that wondered when Steve would decide enough was enough.

Steve shifted in his seat, his hand slipping casually into his pocket. You didn’t think much of it at first—until a large shock vibrated through your pussy and made you gasp in surprise from the intense pleasure.

For a second, you froze. A wave of heat rushed through your body as you realized exactly what was happening. Steve had the remote—the small, discreet device that was supposed to be in your handbag—and now, he has it and he was using it. Here. In front of everyone.

You internally smacked your head for even trying the new toy last minute. You shot him a quick glance, your eyes narrowing, but Steve’s expression remained smooth, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face. He looked completely unfazed, as though he hadn’t just flipped the entire dynamic on its head.

“Something wrong, Y/N?” Steve asked, his voice as casual as ever, but there was a glint in his eyes—he knew exactly what he was doing.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as the buzzing in your panties began again, on a low setting, with more intense pulses spread throughout. It was enough for your lips to part in a sudden gasp, though you promised yourself that you wouldn't allow any other sign of his tormenting you to show.

One look back at Steve and an unspoken message passed between you. He intended to make this evening as humiliating and tormentful as it would be pleasurable.

“No,” you managed, your voice a little strained, “nothing at all.”

Bucky glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “You sure? You’re looking a little flushed.”

Your cheeks burned, but you quickly shot Bucky a smile, trying to play it off. “Just warm in here.”

Bucky chuckled, completely unaware of what was happening beneath the surface. “Right.”

Meanwhile, Steve’s hand remained in his pocket, casually increasing the intensity just a notch, making it harder for you to focus. Your legs shifted slightly, and you fought to keep your expression neutral, but Steve didn’t let up. His gaze locked on yours, a quiet challenge in his eyes as if daring you to keep up the act.

You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms to keep from reacting too visibly, but your body was betraying you. The low, steady vibrations were becoming more insistent, and every time you thought you could push it aside, Steve would change the intensity, keeping you on edge.

As your fists clenched on top of your legs Steve felt his cock begin to stiffen in his trousers. A memory of the last time he had plunged his cock into your tight little pussy swept over him and determined that he shouldn't suffer alone, he cranked the torment up cruelly high.

With satisfaction he watched as your back arched once, against the seat. You calmed yourself as much as you could a moment later. Steve could see the heaviness of your breath and the tell-tail tremors rocking up through your pussy all the way to your shoulders. He longed to bury his fingers in your long hair, while you licked and sucked and pleasured his cock. But he bit back his fantasies for later and stopped the vibrations for the time being. You weren’t going to get off that easy. You were going to suffer this whole evening like his hungry cock was suffering. You weren’t going to orgasm without him buried inside you. No way.

× × × ×

Steve smiled devilishly with smoldering eyes across the room as the heat built unbearably in your pelvis. All evening Steve had now been teasing you, vibing you on soft vibes some of the time and then intense waves so intense you had had to shove a fist in your mouth so as to not cry out. But always, always, he would end the bliss before you reached any sort of climax.

It was devastating and he knew it. You hid your feelings as best you could, but not from him, because he knew what to look for. He could see you biting your lip, and one hand holding the other in a punishing grip to keep it from straying south to finish the job he had started.

Bucky continued chatting away, completely oblivious, while Tony and Sam moved on to a different conversation, leaving you in this silent battle of wills with Steve.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, you shot Steve a look again—one filled with frustration. He responded by raising an eyebrow, that smirk deepening as he gave the control in his pocket another small flick.

A barely audible gasp escaped you, and Steve’s smirk turned downright devilish. He leaned back, as though nothing unusual was happening, and gave you a look that said New toy huh?—you naughty girl.

You pressed your lips together, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affecting you. But Steve didn’t make it easy. He kept the vibrations going, perfectly timed, perfectly controlled, and all you could do was sit there, trying to keep your cool as your pulse quickened.

Satisfaction and possession twisted through him, a darkness that had him yearning to pin yoy down on the floor and fuck you until you screamed. His cock began filling, lengthening in pulses that matched his heartbeat.

Steve finally spoke again, his tone calm and collected as he leaned forward slightly. “You alright, sweetheart? You look like you’ve forgotten something.”

The double meaning wasn’t lost on you, and you shot him a glare, though it was hard to be truly mad when every nerve in your body was buzzing with anticipation.

Bucky, still oblivious to the power struggle happening right in front of him, glanced between you and Steve, looking amused.

You forced a tight smile, barely able to form words. “I’m fine, Steve. Thanks for asking,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tension.

The breathless tone of your voice stilled his fingers. Your chest rose and fell swiftly, and the points of your nipples were evident against the fabric covering you. Steve chuckled softly, his hand still casually in his pocket, the vibrations still going strong. “Are you sure? You seem a little… tense.”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to react to the next wave of vibration as it hit. “Not quite,” you managed to say, your voice breathless, but with just enough edge to let him know you weren’t backing down.

Steve’s smirk widened. “We’ll see about that.”

Steve had delighted in teasing you by sending vibration after vibration through your slit when you had just opened your mouth to receive food. Several times you had been unable to prevent moans from spilling forth, which had brought the occasional eye from the others.

Now however, something clicked into place.

Every time you went further away from where Steve was now stationed—by the cooling balcony—the vibrations had become more intense, and whenever you'd approached Bucky, the waves had been so intense you'd had to hide away until you regained your composure.

Certainly you didn't want to experience an orgasm in front of all your colleagues. If Steve would let you come that was. Your eyes locked with him and you knew what game he was playing. He was now drawing you in. Enticing you, teasing you, daring you to meet with him.

Your legs felt shaky as you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat raging in your body. Every step closer to Steve, he had intensified the vibrations that pulsed through you, sending you to the brink of losing control several times already. And now, standing here, knowing what he was doing—how he was doing it—you realized he’d been pulling you in, little by little.

He was leaning against the railing when you found him, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, like he’d been waiting for you all along. His eyes flicked over you, taking in the way your chest rose and fell, the tension in your posture, the faint flush on your cheeks. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched as you struggled to keep your composure.

“Finally,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I was wondering how long it’d take for you to come find me.”

The soft hum of the vibrations continued to pulse between your legs, but here—out on the balcony, away from the others—it was somehow even more intense. Your breath hitched as you pressed your thighs together, trying to resist the overwhelming sensations that had been driving you crazy all night.

“You’re an asshole,” you managed, though your voice came out breathier than you intended. “You have no right to do that. You’ve been torturing me for hours.”

Steve chuckled deeply, pushing himself off the railing and taking a slow step toward you. His eyes were dark with amusement, and something else—something far more dangerous.

“Torturing you? No, baby. This isn’t torture. It's your fault you dropped your little control for me to find.” He reached out and brushed his fingers down your arm, his touch sending shivers across your skin. “I'm just giving you what you need.”

Your pulse quickened, but you stood your ground, refusing to back away. “And what’s that?”

Steve’s grin widened, his voice dropping even lower. “Pay back. You’ve been playing dirty games all night, teasing me, testing my patience. . . Bet you didn't think I could play dirtier?”

Your breath hitched as the vibrations suddenly increased, the intensity causing you to press your lips together to keep any sounds from escaping. You glanced at the door behind you, knowing the others were just inside, but the fear of being overheard only added to the tension between you and Steve.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

“By all means,” He took another step closer, his hand finding your waist, pulling you toward him until your bodies were pressed against each other. “I can see it in your eyes, Y/N. Don't pretend you weren’t enjoying it. I bet you were thinking about how you miss my cock inside you.”

You trembled, both from the force of the sensations and the heat of his words. He was right, of course. As much as you hated to admit it, Steve had known exactly what you craved.

His thumb stroked lazily along your hip as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“I'm so surprised you’ve been doing so well tonight,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “But I don’t think you’re ready to come yet, are you?”

You gasped softly, your body tensing as he gave the control another flick, sending a pulse of pleasure through you that had your knees threatening to give out.

“Damn it, Steve…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

His hand slipped down to the small of your back, holding you up, keeping you steady even as he pushed you further to the edge. You felt him pressing his solid erection on your thigh, your hand seemingly having a mind of its own, palmed his hard erection through the fabric.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his tone teasing but dark with intent. “Say my name again. Remind me who you belong to.”

You clenched your hand around his cock, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it was slipping fast. “Steve, please…”

“Please what?” he asked, his lips ghosting over your neck, his voice dripping with amusement. “Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going?”

You didn’t answer right away, your breath coming in a shallow, uneven exhale. You could barely think, let alone form a coherent response. The vibrations continued relentlessly, driving you closer and closer to the edge, but Steve held all the power, and you knew he wasn’t going to let you fall unless he wanted to.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he pulled you tighter against him. “So desperate. So ready to fall apart, but you’re holding back too, aren’t you? You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded, the humiliation of being overheard mixing with the arousal that Steve’s teasing had been building all night.

He chuckled huskily. “You know what I love about you, baby? You try so hard to pretend like you can control, but right now…” His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing the hem of your dress, teasing. “Right now, you’re mine.”

You whimpered, your body trembling as the vibrations grew even stronger. You were so close, teetering on the edge of release, but Steve wasn’t going to let you go that easily.

“Do you want to come?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck. “Tell me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

You gasped, barely able to form the words, your body aching for release. “Yes…” you breathed, your voice shaky. “Please, Steve.”

He hummed softly, clearly pleased with your answer, but he wasn’t finished with you yet. His hand slid up your thigh, his fingers brushing the sensitive spot between your legs where the vibrations pulsed strongest.

You whimpered again, your entire body trembling with the effort of holding back. The sensations were too much, too overwhelming, and you were so close, but Steve’s hand on your hip kept you grounded, reminding you that he held all the power.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips against your neck,“Now, be patient.”

You let out a soft, broken whine, your head falling back against his chest as you struggled to hold on, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation and desperation.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice breaking, but he only smirked, his lips still brushing against your ear as his hand stayed poised on the control, his fingers lingering over the button.

“Should we just take this somewhere else?” his voice was dark with satisfaction.

You whimpered, barely able to hold yourself upright. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and all you wanted—all you needed—was for him to let you come. But Steve wasn’t going to give you that satisfaction just yet.

“I think…” he started slowly, his hand sliding down to grip your waist, “you’re not feeling too well, Y/N.” His tone was soft, but there was no mistaking the authority behind his words. He was making the decision for you, and you had no choice but to follow.

You blinked up at him, your body still trembling, trying to understand where he was going with this. “What… what do you mean?” you managed, your breath shaky and uneven.

Steve chuckled, brushing his thumb over your cheek as he pulled you closer, his voice dropping even lower. “You’re going to go home. You’re not feeling well. Isn’t that right?”

It took you a moment to process what he was saying. He wasn’t giving you an option—he was telling you how the rest of the night was going to go. You weren’t going to get your release, not here, not now. Steve was going to draw this out, make you wait, make you need it even more.

Your heart pounded as you nodded, too overwhelmed to argue. “Right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m not feeling well.”

Steve’s smirk deepened, clearly pleased with your compliance. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down the side of your neck before stepping back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

Without breaking eye contact, Steve reached into his pocket and pressed the control one last time, sending a sharp, teasing vibration through you that nearly made your knees buckle. You gasped softly, gripping the railing for support as a fresh wave of need coursed through your body.

But just as quickly as it started, Steve turned the control off, leaving you trembling and on the brink, but without the release you so desperately craved. His eyes darkened as he leaned in, his voice low and full of promise.

“I'll take you home now,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “And when we get there later… then you’ll get what you’ve been begging for, if you remain a good girl.”

The breath caught in your throat at his words, your entire body trembling with anticipation and frustration. Steve pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as his eyes locked with yours, dark and full of intent.

“You understand me?” he asked softly, his tone a quiet command. You nodded, unable to find your voice, your body still humming with the sensation he’d built up all night.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I understand.”

Steve smiled softly, almost tenderly, as he straightened up, giving you a once-over before taking your hand. He led you back toward the door, his touch firm and guiding as he stepped inside. The warmth of the party greeted you once again, the noise and chatter a stark contrast to the intimate darkness of the balcony.

But Steve didn’t let go of your hand.

He glanced around the room, catching Bucky’s eye first, then Sam’s.

“Y/N’s not feeling well,” he announced, his voice steady, calm, and in complete control. “I’m going to make sure she gets home safe.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, suspicion flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t question it.

“Yeah, alright,” he said slowly, shooting you a quick look. “Take care of her, Cap.”

Steve gave a small nod before turning back to you, his grip tightening just slightly around your hand as he guided you toward the exit. The others said nothing but waved bye as you passed, and you kept your head down, your face flushed and your body still trembling with the effects of his teasing.

Once outside, the cool air hit your skin again, and for a brief moment, you felt like you could breathe. But the moment was short-lived as Steve led you to the car, his hand still firmly wrapped around yours.

You had to lean on him a bit as he led you to his car. He helped you inside and strode around to his side exceedingly quickly for someone with a stiff load in their pants. One moment of heavy breathing passed as you looked at each other. You both knew what would happen. He was offering and you were accepting. Though there wasn't really a choice for either of you.

Steve unzipped his fly challengingly as he pushed the start button and vroomed the engine. You eyed him coyly, and lowered your lips agonizingly slowly onto his full blown erection. He was so big and tall, you'd actually forgotten. Carefully you licked his shaft and caressed it with your hands before dipping the head into your mouth. You looked up innocently towards him, eyes wide, Steve had one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard you thought it would break. He saw the way you were looking at him and in punishment set the controller to one of the higher settings.

Heat and pleasure spread through your pelvis and you approached his huge cock with a renewed desire. You dipped it in your mouth again and again, licking it, stroking it and teasing it. All the while you were wriggling in your seat with the intense pleasure from the vibrating underwear.

Steve roared out of the parking lot, eager to reach the destination as soon as possible. And though part of him was worried about causing a car accident due to his distraction, he had a much more pressing sense of urgency. And it's in your mouth. He buried his fingers in your hair as you sucked him off, despite the fact that his cock was far too large for your poor little mouth. But just when his cock was quivering and ready to come and deliver its payload all down your throat, you pulled back and stopped. Mischief in your eyes.

"No coming until you're inside me." You purred. "Your rules, not mine."

He grinned despite himself, and set the control to the highest setting. With pleasure he watched as you writhed in your seat from ecstasy. Your back arched and your hands flew out to hold on to something. One braced you against the roof, and the other against his shoulder. But just like before, just before you came he shut the vibrations off. This time for good. You turned to him indignantly.

"Oh my go—Steve! Please." You begged.

"Almost there." He promised, as he pulled into the driveway.

A quick look out the window revealed to you that you were at his apartment and not yours. You shrugged. So much the better.

Steve reached out a hand, his eyes locking with yours as he offered a reassuring smile, though the hunger in his gaze was impossible to ignore. You took his hand, but as soon as you swung your legs out of the car and stood up, the overwhelming sensations from earlier came rushing back. Your legs wobbled beneath you, unsteady and weak from the teasing Steve had put you through all night.

The second you tried to take a step, your knees nearly buckled. A soft gasp escaped you as you stumbled, but before you could collapse down, Steve’s arms were around you, strong and steady. He caught you easily, one arm slipping beneath your knees as he scooped you up without a second thought.

“Easy there princess,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. His lips brushed against your temple as he pulled you against his chest, holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve got you.”

You felt the heat of his body against yours, his strength cradling you effortlessly, and for a moment, you melted into him, letting the safety of his embrace calm the lingering tremors in your legs. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you, his footsteps steady and purposeful as he made his way across the driveway.

Steve tossed you onto the large, plush bed. You landed softly against the sheets, breathless as you watched him with eager anticipation. Satisfaction coursed through you as he began to strip, his eyes never leaving yours.

His jacket was the first to go, shrugged off and dropped to the floor without a second thought. Then came his shirt, fingers working quickly to unbutton it, his shirt slid off, revealing the defined, powerful muscles of his chest and arms—broad shoulders tapering down to sculpted abs that flexed with every movement. His skin was smooth, taut over the ridges of muscle that seemed to ripple with restrained strength. Each breath he took made his chest rise and fall, drawing your eyes to the hard lines of his torso. His biceps, strong and veined, flexed subtly as he tossed it aside, leaving you breathless, completely captivated by the raw power and grace he carried effortlessly in every inch of his body.

Next were his shoes and socks, kicked off with the same impatience, as though every layer of clothing was a barrier between the two of you. His gaze remained locked on yours, intense and commanding, he unbuckled his belt and tugged off his pants in one motion, leaving him standing there, muscles taut.

Jesus Christ, his body was unfair. His flat stomach had more definition than before, his hips more pronounced. That cock, though. Fully hard, it stood out from his body, every bit as perfect as you remembered—more than big enough to be a challenge. You can see his cock jutting out at you, long and girthy. Your pussy clenched, the stretch of his dick having imprinted there, and you had to grip the sheets to keep from lunging at him.

You were breathing hard, and your heart is beating so fast you feel like it might jump out of your chest. You were looking at each other—predator and prey, the conqueror and the conquered. He closed the distance between you hungrily, his powerful body even more beautiful without clothes in the way. You can feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of his skin—male and musky, strangely appealing. His chest muscles flex under your fingers, and you can feel his heart beating faster.

“Your turn.” He growled huskily.

Steve's hands moved to the hem of your dress, pushing it up slowly, his lips leaving soft, lingering pecks along your stomach as he worked his way up to your waist. With deft efficiency, he slipped the dress over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you breathless. Your bra followed just as quickly, discarded with ease, his touch confident and controlled, leaving you exposed beneath his gaze.

Last but not least he lifted your legs and pulled off the vibrating panties, which were soaked. He tossed them away with a rueful smile before spreading you out so that he could admire you. He took in your breasts that fell to a narrow waist, before flaring out in generous hips that echoed your breasts.

Steve's fingers trailed up your inner thigh and between your legs, and he let his breath warm the skin of your stomach. He brushed his thumb over your slit until he found your clit. He rubbed back and forth a few times, letting you have a taste of the pleasure he planned to give you more of.

Your eyes spoke of impatience, and then he spoke, almost sounding disappointed.

“You’ve really tested my patience tonight, but I guess we're even. Now, shall I take care of you?” Steve stroked you again, harder this time.

“I-I'm sorry, Steve, please—” you whispered, your body swaying slightly. He kept stroking your clit, the smell of your arousal filling his nostrils and making him crazy.

“I am dying to taste you. I bet you're dying to know how good it will feel when my tongue flicks your clit.” he rasped, his mouth watering, pushing to his feet. “Be a good girl and go further up the bed.”

You turned and crawled on the bed, nearly making him come with the seductive sway of your ass as you positioned yourself. When you were on your back, he ordered, “Now spread your legs.”

You complied eagerly, showing him the flesh between your thighs, which was already glistening from arousal. He was ready to make a meal out of you. Wedging himself between your thighs, he lowered himself until his stomach met the mattress.

Steve kissed your inner thigh, his strong hands held you in place. Hands that have been calloused through years and years of combat. The tip of Steve's tongue touched your folds—and you jumped.

“Relax,” he breathed. “Put your hands on your tits and feel what I am doing to you.”

You cupped your breasts, which were already heavy and aching, and squeezed your nipples. Pleasure streaked through you. Steve dipped his head and licked you, and heat suffused your lower half. Growling, he pressed closer and tongued your entrance.

“Fuck, you are so wet for me.” Then he began moving his lips and tongue, exploring your folds, until he reached your clit. The first swipe of his tongue over that tiny bundle of nerves caused you to slam your eyelids shut and throw your head back. Tingles ran up and down your legs and you could only lie there as he did it again and again, flicking and circling the nub with his tongue. His finger worked its way into your pussy, stretching me, and you moaned.

“Oh, my God. Steve!”

The reaction earned you another finger and a long suck of your clit. Your toes curled and you could feel the orgasm building in your belly.

“I’m so close,” you told him. “Keep going, please.”

Unbidden, your hips started rocking against his face, your body desperate for release. You thought you would have to agree to anything at that moment, but luckily Steve didn’t try and take advantage. He continued to work your clit and pump his fingers into your pussy.

It wasn’t enough though. You really wanted him to fuck you. The thought of his muscled body, so manly and strong, pounding into you pushed you over the edge.

You shouted as your walls convulsed around his fingers, your limbs trembling uncontrollably. The euphoria washed over you, more intense from the teasing he's done to you all night. These weren't the gentle waves of an orgasm. This was a tsunami dragging you to depths you had never imagined before, drowning you in endorphins you hadn’t felt in so long.

When it finally ended, you sagged into the mattress, limp. Steve's mouth gentled but didn’t stop as he lapped up the wetness at your entrance. His eyes were closed as if he were savoring you, and you couldn’t look away from his beautiful face. Why did he have to be so incredibly good looking?

His lids opened and blue eyes pinned you to the spot. They were wild and hungry. Feral. A little scary, even. He continued to taste you while staring up at you, as if he were gauging your reaction. You couldn’t move, your muscles are now lax.

Then he crawled over you, kissing your skin along the way, until he reached your breasts. Your hands were still on your breasts, so he nudged your palm aside with his nose to draw a nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard, with long pulls that echoed between your legs, directly in your clit.

Everything was heightened, your body even more sensitive now that you'd come, and he seemed in no hurry to move on as he lavished attention on your breast. Soon you were writhing, your heart racing as you panted, your nails digging into his shoulders. He switched to your other breast, his tongue flicking your nipple then biting it before bringing the nipple into his mouth to suck.

You were a shuddering, mindless mess, unable to stop moaning as it wore on. Was he trying to foreplay you to death? His fingers slipped between your legs, rubbing your clit with light steady pressure, and you came a second time. When you finally calmed, he released your breast and kissed your neck.

Steve crawled over you, not stopping until his knees were on either side of your ribcage, his cock inches away from your face, “Suck my cock and make it slippery for me.”

You opened your mouth and he thrust inside, the warm salty taste of him gliding across your tongue. Fuck, you liked that. you closed your eyes, but he snapped, “Eyes on me, hands on your tits.”

Your clit pulsed in happiness, your body drunk on him, completely turned on by his dominance. You complied, keeping your gaze on his and putting your hands on your tits, massaging it in circular motions as he started to tunnel in and out of your mouth. You tried to keep your jaw and throat relaxed, and Steve took advantage, thrusting deep until you gagged.

“That’s it,” he said. “I want to see tears streaming down your cheeks from having your mouth fucked.”

You couldn’t help it—you moaned. His nostrils flared. He pushed and you gagged, but he didn’t withdraw. Instead, he waited until you recovered and took another breath. Then he advanced a tiny bit more. Tears spilled over your lashes and you struggled to breathe. You started to shake your head no, but Steve just smirked down at you as he held you in place.

“You can do it. Fill that filthy mouth with my cock.” He shoved in deeper and you tried to relax and breathe through your nose. You tried to swallow, it took a few tries but you managed and he slipped in deeper. Then you couldn’t breathe at all and you started to panic, your eyes searching his face. His expression was soft, pride shining in his eyes as he watched your mouth. You shook your head again, tears falling faster, your hands slapping on the mattress so Steve withdrew himself.

You coughed violently as he left your mouth, you felt his demeanor shift as he caressed your cheek while shushing you.

“I-I'm sorry.” you tried to say but it came out broken due to the fire in your throat.

“Shh, you’re okay, baby, you're okay.” Steve hunched down and kissed you, long licks of his tongue against yours, it was gentle, your lips locking before he pulled away, “Are you okay?”

You look him in the eye, nodding with a weak smile, “Yeah, I'm okay—Continue.”

Steve stares at you for a few seconds, raising his eyebrow, “If you say so.”

He gets into position but instead of getting a mouth full of dick, his cock slapped between your breasts.

“Let’s save that for a different time.” He winks at you, “Now hold them. Press them tight.”

You squeezed your boobs around his cock, and he groaned, his arousal coming back to him. His stare was fixed on your chest as his hips started to move, his stomach muscles flexing.

“Tighter,” he rasped. “Pinch your nipples like I would.”

You did as he asked, gasping at the electricity that jumped in your veins as a result. It was like you were stroking your clit without using your hands. You pinched harder and your head rolled back as the bliss washed over you. He pushed a thumb into your mouth and you sucked instinctively, swirling your tongue over the rough skin like you couldn’t get enough. Which wasn’t really an act. You were desperate, your sex throbbing for relief, and you craved his touch everywhere.

“Look at me when you suck,” he ordered and you instantly obeyed. His bright eyes burned fire while he watched your mouth and he reached to stroke two fingers over your clit. You tensed and made a desperate noise in the back of your throat. He continued to pet you, and you could feel how wet and slippery you were, the sounds of your slickness as loud as your breathing. The climax was right there, just a few seconds away….

The fingers between your legs disappeared and you let out an angry growl around his thumb.

“Get up.” he told you, retreating down your body until he stood on the floor. You rose up on your knees, mindless to anything but having your craving satisfied.

“Feet on the floor.”

You scrambled to do as he asked, and his hands positioned you between his legs as you leaned over on the bed. You sagged onto the bed and let him do as he wished. His slick erection slid into the crevice between your cheeks, which he pushed together. Then he was sliding between your ass cheeks the same way he’d fucked your tits. His strong hands held you still while his rough thighs met the backs of your legs. It was like he was fucking you from behind, but without the stimulation.

Miserable, you shoved your ass higher. Hair covered your face and you could feel the sweat on your temples.

“Roll your hips,” he panted. “Work my cock and I’ll reward you.”

Steve didn’t need to ask twice. You started rolling your hips, giving him friction while he held still. You were gyrating and sliding your flesh over his, that thick rod hot and heavy between your cheeks. You barely felt his hand leave your skin before he slapped your ass, fire exploding under your skin.

You sucked in a breath and lost your rhythm.

“Don’t stop.” Another slap. “Keep going and make me come for you.” The pain from the slaps turned into heat, the kind that made your knees go weak. Your clit throbbed in response, and the slickness between your thighs ran down your legs. You kept moving, and he spanked you again and again, his palm landing blows all over your backside.

Your body burned, but there was no pain. your skin sang with pleasure, sensitive and bright, and as if on instinct you slid your fingers down between your legs, the need to come undeniable.

“No,” he said, pinning your arm down as he covered your back. Your sore ass pulsed against his cool skin. “Not yet.”

You humped the mattress, your urges uncontrollable. This caused his tip to skim the entrance to your pussy. You both froze, the temptation right there.

All he had to do was push a tiny bit forward and he would fill you. Stretch me. Give you every bit of his hard cock. You couldn’t stand it. You needed him like you needed air. “Please, Steve. Put your cock inside me.”

“Are you mine?”

You pressed your lips together, unable to say the words, while you clawed and tore at the comforter, your miserably body at war with itself as your lust remained unfulfilled.

“I will not fuck you until you tell me. I want to hear the words.”

“No, please. Just once.”

“Say it, and I will fuck your pussy. I will make you come so hard.” He teased you with a shift of his hips, the tip of his erection skimming your entrance again. “I will make it so good for you.”

Your resistance folded.

“I’m yours, Steve.” You blurted. “Please. I’m yours.”

Before you could blink, he shoved inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. It wasn’t easy. He was large and you hadn’t been prepared, so it took a few pumps of his hips before he was fully seated.

“Look at you letting me inside. Sucking me in.” Steve straightened and grabbed your hips with both hands, “Do you like it? Do you like taking my cock in your tight little pussy?”

If only the others knew about his filthy, filthy mouth. But if you’re being honest with yourself, everytime he talks to you like that you would do anything he asks. And he probably knew it.

He drove deeper, making you gasp.

“Yes,” you whispered, dragging the word out on a long whine. “I like it very much.”

You clutched the duvet, your fingers sinking into the plush fabric, the sensation of having him inside you was something you hadn't felt in so long. You could feel him everywhere, from your swollen lips and aching breasts, to your sore ass and full pussy. It was like an overload for your nerve endings. Then he started moving, and it felt even better.

Your nipples scraped against the sheets as he worked himself in and out of your body, his grunts mixing with your gasps.

“So tight. You are squeezing me so hard.” He pulled out slowly, leaving in just the head, and then plunged forward once more until he bottomed out. You both groaned. “Tell me who is fucking your pussy, Y/N. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Steve.” The words fell from your lips, partly because you knew they would drive him wild. And partly because you loved this game you played.

He spanked you, hard, “That’s right. Now, play with your clit and make yourself come.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Your hand shot between your legs and you circled your clit. Steve spanked you again and again, his palm raining slaps on your butt cheeks. The heat spread from your skin through your groin as your fingers worked over the taut nub.

When he wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled, using it to jerk you back onto his cock, riding you, you came so hard, the orgasm deep and intense. You clenched around him and he thickened inside you, his hips growing uncoordinated as you heard him suck in air.

“That’s it come all over my cock, you dirty little slut.” Steve grunted in the heat of the moment.

Steve fucked you like he was punishing you, each punch of his hips slapping into the skin he’d spanked a moment ago. He drove deep, holding your hips still so he could pound as hard as he wanted. You loved it. He was rough and unforgiving, everything you needed. The bed rocked, the frame creaking as he worked himself in and out of your body.

His fingers slipped between your legs and found your clit. He pinched the swollen nub then circled it, and the world exploded. Sparks shot through your limbs as they convulsed, and your brain completely shut down, the pleasure almost brutal in its intensity. Changing his rhythm, he flexed his hips, withdrawing slightly before returning, the thick length dragging over your sensitive walls.

“Oh,” you moaned, clenching around him tightly. “I liked that. Will you do it again?”

“Fuck, Y/N.” he hissed, his eyelids slamming shut as if he were in pain. He hissed through his teeth when your body clamped down on him. “Yes, squeeze my dick again.”

You did it once more and he groaned.

“You are trying to make me come? Because it is working.” he grunted when you did it a third time he smacked your butt cheek and pulled out.

He looked bigger than before, you couldn’t do more than roll your head to watch him shuffle to one side of the bed, spitting on his hand before jacking himself, coating his cock and making it slippery. You watched the muscles of his forearm shift as he worked, and you swallowed hard, finding it absolutely hot. You made a mental note to ask him to masturbate in front of you.

“I want you to ride me. I want to see your face when I claim that pussy again.” Steve got into position on the bed, flat on his back, then lifted you over him until you straddled his hips. Bringing you toward his face, he kissed you hard, his tongue invading your mouth and letting you taste his desperation. The tips of his fingers probed your entrance, smoothing, massaging, opening you.

Eager, you rolled your hips, dragging your slick pussy over his shaft.

“So needy,” he murmured against your mouth when you whimpered. “Don’t worry, princess. I am going to fill you up.” His fingers slipped inside, but there was only pressure. It was as if the pleasure center of your brain was firmly in charge. He pumped his fingers slowly, widening your, while his mouth remained demanding. You took it gladly, letting him use you.

He broke off and grabbed your hips. “Up, baby. Take me inside.”

You braced one hand on his stomach, then reached with the other to take his thick cock, lining him up at your entrance. His warm skin was slick and hard, and you began pushing down, hissing when the head slipped in. He threw his head back, his expression nearly feral in its intensity, and you loved watching this powerful man come undone by your body. You dropped down a little more, gave yourself time to adjust, again, then continued, working steadily, with Steve’s big chest heaving the entire time.

His fingertips sank into your skin, pressing on your hip bones and you knew you would have bruises there tomorrow. The thought sent a punch of arousal through your core and you lowered your hips all the way down, meeting his pelvis.

“Fuck, Steve, it feels so good,” You whined as your sore ass rubbing against his rough skin. The width of him split you open and you panted, loving the way he overwhelmed you.

“Baby,” You whispered, hoping he understood. He knew. Of course he did. No one could read you better than Steve.

He cupped your breasts with both hands, pinching your nipples. “Tell me, baby. Ride me and tell me. Don’t hold anything back from me.”

You began moving then, churning your hips slowly, dragging his shaft in and out of your pussy, all the while watching his face. His eyes burned hot as they raked over your body, possession stamped on his features, and you let the words fall out.

“Fuck, I love you and your cock.” His reaction was instant. Snatching you in his big hands, he leaned up and brought you to him for a blistering kiss. Then he braced his feet on the mattress and began pounding into you, his body thrusting upward in short jabs that bounced your tits up and down. His hands kept your hips steady, your bodies straining and working together. Whatever spot he was hitting deep inside you sent sparks down your legs, along your spine, sending you higher and higher.

When you started trembling, he said, “Your clit, baby. Play with it and make yourself come. Right now.”

You didn’t question him. Your hand flew between your legs and you rubbed your swollen flesh, desperate for release. The rush was instant, a wave of color and light that exploded behind your eyes. Your muscles contracted around him, clamping down, and you heard Steve grunt wildly as his movements became uncoordinated, his cock swelling inside you. Then he held you still, his back arching, as his cock pulsed in your pussy, hot jets filling you.

Your back arched as you trembled, your walls convulsing around his cock. He threw his head back and shouted, his body sealed tight to yours like he never wanted to leave. Like he didn’t want to waste a single drop, like all his come needed to stay inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he panted. “I hadn’t expected you to say that.” He pulled you down to lay on top of him and wrapped his arms around you, his cock still buried deep inside you.

You allowed yourself to catch your breath before laying beside him, glancing at Steve, who now looked more like his usual self—calm, collected—not the hungry, sexually frustrated asshole he had been just moments before.

“What now?” he asks, his voice softer now, the tension between you both having settled.

“Yeah, what now?” you echoed, unsure of what to do next but still riding the energy from earlier.

“Are you tired?” he asks, turning his head toward you, a hint of something playful in his eyes.

“No. Are you?” You faced him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small smile.

“No,” he says, smiling sheepishly, both of you sensing the same lingering spark.

“Should we… take it to the shower?” you suggest, the thought hanging in the air between you.

Steve’s grin widens, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “After you.”

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