#nomad steve x plus size reader

[megamindsecretlair]

Room 1918

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Dominance, breeding kink, unprotective p in v, fingering fem receiving, biting, cum play, blow job, and dirty talk.

Word Count: 3,569k

Summary: After the troubling events of Civil War, Steve is constantly on the move. But even a super soldier has needs. He just so happened to fall for your charms and you promptly fell into an arrangement. At each hotel you meet at, you reserve Room 1918 and wait for him.

A/N: What can I say, I'm toasted and feral AF for Nomad Steve and just kept writing. Apologies in advance if I missed warnings or offend anyone.Not beta'd or proofread all that well, it's almost 5am for me. LOL. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!

He’s late. You pace back and forth in front of the window, peeking out every so often. You bite your lip as you think about all the reasons he could be late. The feds caught up to him, he was killed, or some emergency. You think about turning on the TV but the thought of seeing his face plastered on the news makes you sick. 

In between your worries, you’re also excited. Your skin iss sensitive already. You anticipate all the wicked things Steve will do to you tonight. You blow out a breath and look out of the window one more time. 

A knock on the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you cross the dark navy carpet towards the door. You look through the peephole and see a familiar bearded figure with a cap on his head. Still, per his instructions anyway, you call out, “Who’s there?” 

“It’s me,” his deep voice rumbles from the other side. You smile and open the door. Steve stands before you in dark jeans, gray shirt, and a black hoodie. His cap is pulled low over his brow and his beard is growing out. He has a full and proper beard this time, most likely to fool security cameras.

You lean your head on the hotel door and just drink him in. Even in casual clothes, he looks every inch the super soldier you know him to be. Your cheeks warm as you objectify him. His broad shoulders barely fit through the frame as he walks in. 

He pushes past you smelling like sandalwood and soap and man. He is at least a foot taller. He towers over you. He sniffs at you as he brushes past looking down and looking you over. 

You’re wearing a baby pink robe with black trimming. The bottom slightly flared to accommodate your wide hips and it was trimmed in faux mink. It contrasted perfectly with your russet skin. The dim hotel lights make your skin glow and you hope the glitter was showing. But the dark look in his blue eyes let you know that it didn’t matter. He is devouring you in one look. 

“You are a treasure,” he says. 

You giggle softly and close the door behind him. You lock the door and stand before him and let him look his fill.

He takes off his cap and throws it onto the mahogany dresser. His hair is darker, the blond more akin to brown now. His hair is longer too, runaway strands landing into his pretty face. 

“You broke our rule,” he grumbles. His brows draw down, scowling at you.

“Which one?” 

“I could see you from the parking lot, looking out of the window. You can’t do that. If someone catches you…”

“They won’t. No one knows about us. We’ve been careful,” you say. You approach him until you are chest to chest. 

“All the same. Don’t look out of the window. Someone could see, or someone could harm you. These windows aren’t that effective.”

You roll your eyes. You did not wait a whole fucking month to hear a lecture about safety and evasion tips. All you had were stolen moments. One day of being in his arms. The other days, there was no communication. Full and total blackout. You anxiously awaited news that he was captured or killed. Until the next time he hit up your email. 

You set up a joint email account and communicated via the draft folder. He’d send you a city and you’d book a flight. Since you worked for yourself, there was no one to answer to but yourself. Your friends and family just thought you liked to travel. They called you lucky.

You were dating a ghost. And every day he was on the run, was another day you could never be together. And it hurt. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He asks. 

“I promise I won’t look out of the window next time,” you say. 

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” His voice pitches lower and he scowls even further at you. He spoke slowly as if you hadn’t heard him the first time. A tingle shoots up your legs. 

“Yes, I did,” you say. You raise your eyebrow at him.

Steve sighs and rubs his beard. “I’m not in the mood,” he says. 

You coo and closed the remaining distance, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “I can fix that,” you say. You trail your hands lower, moving your hands over his jeans. A noticeable bulge grows under your exploring hands and you rub him over his jeans.

Steve grabs your wandering hands in one hand and narrows his eyes at you. His blue eyes are scalding. You would’ve flinched if it didn’t just turn you on. The Steve that stayed hidden away was swimming to the surface. The side of him that he kept hidden was there. 

“I said I’m not in the mood. You’re taking dangerous risks. I won’t risk you,” he says. 

“It’s not dangerous, Steve. I promise. I just…I miss you so fuckin’ much,” you say. 

“That doesn’t mean you can put yourself at risk. You know you belong to me. What would I do without these days I get to see you?” He asks.

He’s right of course, the arrogant prick. “I won’t do anything to risk that, Steve,” you say. An attitude creeps into your tone and you know the moment you fucked up. His eyebrows shoot up at the same time his hands squeezes yours. 

“Just for that, you don’t get your treat tonight. You’ll have to wait another month,” he says.

“Oh come on,” you whine. You know you sound annoying and you hated it. 

“Keep it up, I’ll make it two months.”

“Steve, please,” you say. You pout, sticking out your bottom lip and rounding your eyes. 

“Three months,” he says. His jaw clenches as he stares you down.

“Please Steve, I won’t make it that long,” you plead. 

“I don’t care.” He grabbs your jaw, squeezing your rounded face until your lips pucker. “I told you that I’m not in the mood. Get your ass on the bed, now,” he growls so close to your face that his breath fans over it. He pushes you away until you stumble back a bit.

You manage to lick your lips. Something bad happened today. It was either a close call or he failed to help someone. That whole other side was begging to be pushed. He thought he needed total obedience, but he needed to get worked up more. To push past that barrier and consume you body and soul. 

“Let me make it up to you,” you say. You approach him and slid to the floor to get on your knees. You move closer on your knees. You reach up for his jeans and unbuckle his belt. You tug it through the metal loop. As you work to free him, you keep your eyes on him. He’s so tall, he might as well be a giant. Especially while you were on your knees.

The mink at the bottom of your robe tickles your legs and only works to make your skin hyperaware. The hold the man had on you was like being drunk. Total loss of your control. Your head is fuzzy and you sway. And you overall feel so damn horny, you were nearly combusting.

“Let me earn back my months,” you say.

You palm him and he sighs. His eyes flutter closed as you work him up and down softly. Your hand glides over his velvety soft dick. The serum really increased everything about him. His thick length intimidates you. You’ve sucked him off before but every time required a pep talk.

You lick the head of his dick, painting your tongue with his precum. You swallow the head and lick back and forth over the tip. A groan leaves Steve as he throws his head back. You take him in further, swallowing him down. His hips jerk forward and he digs his hands into your hair.

He places his palm on your scalp and grabs your hair at the roots. He soon takes over, fucking your mouth as if you were nothing more than a hole to be used. He sets the rhythm and the pace, bouncing you up and down. You look at him as you hollow out your cheeks. 

Steve’s dick hits the back of your throat, causing you to choke a bit. Steve groans hearing your whimpers and moans and quiet pleas. Still, he is relentless. Your jaw hurts and tears gather in your eyes.

“That’s my dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says. “Suck that dick, baby.” His whispered commands make your pussy clench with vicious need. His balls slap your chin. He reaches down with his other hand to pull on your dark left nipple. It was his favorite nipple for some reason. Probably because it was slightly bigger than the right and you swore it was more sensitive. Every time he pinched you, it sent a straight shot of desire to your pussy. 

Your whimpers increase, creating a sexy symphony of carnal sounds. His harsh breaths mingle with your crying and soon he’s groaning. “Fuck, this mouth is gorgeous,” he moans.

Steve abruptly pulls out of your mouth with a growl. He grabs your arms and lifts you to your feet. He leans in and licks the tears off your cheek. Then he’s kissing you, stroking his tongue against yours. He grabs your face and moves you backward until your legs are hitting the bed.

“You’re gonna take this cum inside of you,” he say.

“Yes, Steve,” you huff. You rotate your jaw to get some feeling back into it. 

“You only earned one month back,” he say.

You open your mouth to speak but Steve’s eyes burns holy retribution. He finally snaps. He pushes you onto the bed. You hop once. He stares down at you and rubs his beard. You got the sense that he was trying to figure out the best way to attack you. 

He glares at you as he strips. His shirt and hoodie are off in one fell swoop and flung onto the floor. He shucks off his shoes and socks and relieves himself of his jeans and underwear.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Tanned skin, a glory trail down to his impressive dick. It bounces under your gaze and you lick your lips. 

“You better be fuckin’ wet,” he says. He rips open your robe, the snaps releasing at once. You learned your lesson with the button and latch ones. Your robes kept getting shredded with his inhuman strength. And you really like this one. 

You don’t wear anything underneath. Somehow you knew that tonight would be different. Whether it was a hunch or intuition, it came in handy tonight. His gaze roams over your body, sighing and cooing in pleasure.

“You’re really fuckin’ perfect,” he croons. He kept eye contact as he leans forward and over you, licking your tummy. You whimpers. His rough tongue was divine. Surely it was a crime to be this addicted to somebody. His every touch set your nerves on fire. 

Fresh arousal drips out of your pussy and you keen forward trying to get his attention. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that needy little cunt for you,” he says. Oh god, you whimper. 

He climbs onto the bed, forgoing your usual treat of him eating you out. You hoped that after he got that post-nut clarity, he’d be all too happy to oblige. But knowing him, he’d stick to it out of spite. By simply knowing that you needed his lips on your pussy. 

As he came over you, he kisses you so sweetly. Feathering his kisses over your full, luscious lips. He kisses the side of your mouth and then your jaw. He licks a hot trail on your neck. 

Your hands came up to rub his back. He’s on fire. He’s a living furnace under your fingertips. His muscles contract and flex beneath your touch. 

“I’m gonna fill that needy cunt with my seed. I want you so full,” he growls in your ear. The subtle gravel in his voice makes you tingle all over. “I need you so badly. Please,” you beg. 

You’re not too proud to beg. Your pussy aches and feels empty. You need him to fill you up now.  You had a very low tolerance for just about everything. Least of all this weird middle between pleasure and pain. 

Steve denies you further. He continues to rain kisses on your chest, sucking on your titty and biting you. He licks the sting away and then latches on to your nipple. He sucks and teases the little bead between his teeth. He uses one hand to dig under you and grab on to your fat ass. 

He squeezes and growls in satisfaction. He uses his other hand to roll your other nipple with his fingers. You moan and writhe. You sigh. “Please, please, please,” you cry.

He kneads your breast and pinches your nipple. Then he switches sides. His mouth came over his favorite nipple and gave it just as much attention. Freezing hotel air hit your wet nipple and you shivered. His free hand came up to warm your titty once more. 

“Steve,” you beg. You couldn’t speak anymore. It was too much.

“That’s my filthy girl,” he says. He lowers his left hand to dance over your damp curls. You suck in a breath. He digs his finger between your pussy lips and sighs. You’e so wet, the sounds of which echoed in the silent room. 

“You’re making a mess over here, sweetheart,” he chides. You whimper and your legs shake. Your nails dig into Steve’s shoulders. He rubs your clit in agonizingly slow circles. Your arousal ramps higher and higher until your body begins to jerk and twitch. 

“Cum for me, dirty girl. Cum on my fingers,” he croons. 

You’re stuttering breaths and shaking so much that he leans down further until he is right on top of you. The solid weight of him made you come undone. He curls his fingers inside of you and you come with a powerful force, waves of please washing over you. Your body seizes as you come. 

Steve talks you down from it, calling you a pretty girl and beautiful and gorgeous. Each new adjective soaked into your brown skin, lighting you up from the inside. You absently rub his head, letting his silky tresses slip through your fingers. 

Your skin’s overheated. If it wasn’t for his body laying on top of yours, you would’ve been shivering from how incredibly cold you were. You sniffle as runaway tears escaped your eyes. 

Steve kisses your cheek, once again licking up the tears. He makes his way back to your mouth. He kisses you lazily. As if you had all the time in the world. He bites your bottom lip hard enough to sting. Then he licks it away. He leans back and sucks on his fingers. The fingers that were inside of you.

You smell your arousal on his fingers. Your breathing starts to settle as Steve sticks his fingers into your mouth. You taste yourself on his fingers and whimper. 

He leans up until he’s kneeling on the bed. He grabs your thighs and moves them to his hips so that he’s lined up perfectly. He pitches forward and lets his smooth dick rub your clit. You’re still a bit sensitive from your orgasm so you twitch on every up-slide. 

Then, he shoves in one full thrust. You’re so slippery, he slides in without resistance. You both moan at the contact. You’re finally full and fuck, it burns so good. He stays like that for a few moments as you acclimate to his size and girth. 

“Fuck. Your pussy feels so damn good,” he says. 

You whimper beneath him and move up and down, trying to signal without words that he needed to move. He pants above you. His floppy hair falls over his brow and half in his eyes. He licks his lips as he stares at you.

Oh, right. You tap his arm twice to let him know that you were okay and he could keep going. You found out pretty quickly that he was capable of rendering you catatonic. You needed a system that communicated through taps to let him know that you were down for everything he was doing. 

He leans forward and kisses you before sliding out of you and then sliding back in. “Such a messy, filthy girl. You’re making a mess all over my dick,” he says.

“Oh god, Steve,” you cry. You clench around his dick and you both groan. You grab onto his forearms and wrap your thick legs around his waist. He starts to piston inside of you, going so deep and hard that he’s hitting the shit out of your G spot. 

You hold on, bouncing on his dick. His balls slap against your ass. 

“Fuck, I’m going to give you all this cum, sweetheart. Tell me you want it,” he says.

“I want it so badly. Please fill me up, please.” 

A desperate need takes hold of you. He feels so good sliding in and out of you with ease. You truly are making a mess. He takes your wrists in his one palm and lifts them above your head until your breasts are on full display. His other hand grips your knee and pushes it back to get a better angle. Somehow, he’s able to go deeper and you make all kinds of incoherent sounds.

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna bruise in the morning. His grip is punishing, locking you into place. Steve chases his own orgasm, giving you no more thought as he closes his eyes and groane. His stomach contracts from the effort of gliding into you. 

“Take this fuckin’ cum, sweetheart. I want your pussy full of my cum. Only mine. Help me fill you up,” he grunts.

He thrusts harder, his thighs slapping against yours. You clench and clench around him, your belly burning with the need to cum. 

“I’m going to put a baby in that pussy of yours. I want your belly to be swollen,” he growl. 

“Oh fuck,” you scream. An orgasm rips through you. Sparks fly behind your eyelids. Your body convulses and twists and turns. Steve lets go of your wrists to hold himself up. He pumps three more times before bursting inside of you with a long, guttural moan. 

His hot seed squirts inside of you, bathing your insides. He pumps a few more times before dropping on top of you. He shakes and you rub his back. You touch every inch of him you could get your hands on. 

He withdraws and you make embarrassing squelching noises as he pulls out. His cum leaks out. You groan from the sensation. He leans up and away, leaning back on his haunches so he can grab your legs and spread them apart.

He surveys his handy work and lord help, but you were getting aroused again. He grunted in between his huffs. 

“You keep that fuckin’ cum inside you,” he growls. He dips his hand down to gather up the cum that slips out. Then he pushes it back inside of you, massaging your overworked pussy. 

“That’s my fuckin’ pussy, that I can use however I want right?” He asks.

“Yes, Steve,” you whisper. You shiver from him fucking his cum back into you. 

“You gonna keep this cum inside you? You gonna grow my baby?” He asks.

“Oh god, yes Steve,” you whine. 

This orgasm sneaks up on you. One minute he is adding a third finger inside of you and the next, you’re huffing and whining and whimpering again. He fucks you through it, moving his fingers in and out as you cry out. Your sweet cries flow over the walls and hit you back.

“So needy and filthy,” he says. 

As you come down, he grins at you for the first time that night. He licks his fingers as he gives you a devilish grin. 

“The things I’m going to do to you tonight,” he says wistfully. His eyes look over your deep russet skin, your big tummy, and juicy breasts. 

You yawn and he chuckles. “Thank you, sweetheart. Get some sleep, we’ve got a long night to make up for.”

Steve untangles himself from you, crossing the room to the bathroom. You curl up on your side as sleep tugs heavily. Steve returns with a washcloth to clean you up. You feel the cold circle of your arousal on the bed. It’s huge. You groan. You can’t believe that all of that came out of you. 

Steve takes care of himself with his own washcloth before laying down and pulling you into him. His warm chest hits your back and your ass hits his dick. You both sigh as you wiggle a bit. Steve tells you to behave. 

He wraps a massive arm around your waist and pulls you closer, his fingers curling underneath you. You’re locked in and aren't about to go anywhere. 

You fall into a deep, deep sleep curled up with the literal man of your dreams.

There's more Steve to love! The Secret Nomad Steve Files

[megamindslair]

Sit Still (Look Pretty), Part 1

Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some unresolved tension, mutual voyeurism, cursing, mentions of female and male parts, Nomad Steve x Black!reader. Nomad Steve x plus size reader. Part 1 of ? Not sure how long this will take to resolve. Age gap, reader is mid 20s, Nomad Steve is mid 30s.

Summary: AU where Steve was born in modern times but still received a serum in the Army to make him more efficient. He's moved in next door and has noticed you watching him. You and your mom have gone over to introduce yourselves.

Word Count: 1,857k

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics so decided to try my hand at another. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But this was fun. While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging to help writers!

Fuck, your neighbor was hot as hell. You sat on your window seat gawking at the tall, sexy neighbor as he picked up huge boxes and carried them in the house as if it weighed no more than feathers. 

Muscles rippled in a dark blue muscle shirt as he moved and bent over. And that ass. You bit your lip as the neighbor bent further down to lift a chair. Oh and those thighs. You sighed. The Lord took His time with this one. 

The man was at least six foot tall, dark blond hair and a full trimmed beard. He wore a pair of dark jeans and boots. All week, you had watched him go in and out of the newly bought house next door. He carried lots of boxes but none of them gave any clue to his story.

Was he married? Was he expecting? Surely someone that damn fine had a wife heavenly pregnant and ordering him about. You weren’t sure how he didn’t have eleven rugrats running around. There were no other movers and the neighbor had rented a small truck for his sofa and dressers. 

You also saw the neighborhood crones using any excuse in the book to talk to him and be nosy. If he thought someone that looked like him was going to move here without raising any alarms, he was sorely mistaken.

You gasped as he stopped to stretch, moving his body beyond his limit. You just wanted to lick him. Just once. You fanned yourself as you watched him. You imagined all kinds of filthy things when it came to him. 

You imagined him grabbing your fleshy thighs and shaking them before slapping them. You imagined him in between your legs coating that full beard with your juices. You imagined him breaking your back. Like, literally breaking your back. Because he could put you in the hospital and you’d say thank you.

He disappeared into the house. His curtains were thrown open so you could still watch him moving around the house. The downfall to stock houses was that they were lined up just so. The houses were nearly identical. Your bedroom window faced his bedroom window on the second floor. The angle you had was just enough to see his kitchen sink. It’d be possible to see his arms and hands as he washed. 

You spent plenty of nights this week just watching his hands work over his meager dishes. If he was married, she didn’t live with him. You never saw anyone coming or going from his place. He didn’t have a second car. 

Your mom called your name. “I’ve got this cake for the neighbor, let’s go introduce ourselves,” she called. 

You rolled your eyes. Yes, your mom was very much just as gossipy as the neighborhood crones. Everything you’ve heard of the neighbor was through her and probably had twisted from its original message. 

You weren’t dressed yet. You had made watching him your dirty hobby. But you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Sometimes, you got the eerie feeling as if he were watching you too. You had taken to keeping your curtains open and your light on. 

You never saw him look over here. The random times he was in his room and moving around, he never gave any indication that he knew you were looking. Still, you pranced around in your bra and panties every morning or before hanging with your friends as you decided what to wear.

Sometimes, you even faced the window as you decided between two shirts or two skirts. You pretended that he was picking your outfits, telling you what he likes seeing you in. That he would imagine ripping it off of your body all day and it would drive him crazy. Knowing you’d be capable of making him hard and uncomfortable all day turned you on so badly. 

You stood and did just that. You faced his bedroom window even though he was probably still on the first floor. You held up a red, frilly shirt and a light ocean blue plain shirt. You flipped back and forth, imagining what he’d like.

You put the shirts on your bed and then flipped between jeans and white shorts. You held up the red shirt and white shorts. If you were going to meet him, you might as well show him what you’re working with. You turned around and imagined him at the window, getting dressed for him. 

You bent low and shimmied into the white shorts as slow as you could. Then you slipped on the red babydoll tee. It made your breasts look good. Plus it was hot as sin outside. 

You ran down the stairs and sat on the steps as you slipped on your shoes. Your mom floated into the room holding a small box. “I went with chocolate,” your mom said. “Everybody likes chocolate and those who don’t are lying to get attention.”

You laughed as you shook your head. Your mom was gorgeous, with flowing locs and a great figure. She wore loose tan pants and a cream shirt. 

“Isn’t this a little Southern of us?” You asked. You lived in Suburbia with the white picket fences and neighbors who’d gone to high school together. It was capital boredom and should be labeled as a torture method.

“Best way to meet your neighbors. They associate you with good food and are less likely to be rude to you by throwing loud parties and orgies,” your mother said.

You snorted. Your mom never had a filter and would often say the first thing that comes to mind. Your dad hated it but you caught him smiling more than a few times. 

You trudged over the manicured lawn, over the small concrete divider, and onto his property. The door was closed. He was probably taking a break from moving things. Your mom rang the doorbell and you waited.

The door finally opened and you gasped silently. He was even more gorgeous in person. Fuck, it had to be illegal to carry those arms. They looked big enough to crush a coconut in one grip. His hands were large and his fingers were long, like a musician's fingers.

He smirked at you and your mother. Your mom stepped forward. “We wanted to introduce ourselves, we’re your neighbors on that side,” she said and pointed to your house. 

She told him your names and all about the chocolate cake, including her joke about people lying. He threw his head back as he laughed as if it were that funny.

“I’m Steve,” he said. He shook your mom’s hand and then moved to yours. His grip was firm but not crushing.  

You looked down at your combined hands, loving the way that your copper skin contrasted with his creamy skin. He held on a second too long before turning his attention to your mom who asked him a million questions.

“If I heard all of those, I’d say I moved here for work, not married, and I work for the military. Did I get it all?” He asked.

He had a bit of an accent. You guessed somewhere on the East Coast. Your mom giggled. You looked at her as if she grew a third head. She widened her eyes at you and then smiled back at Steve. She prattled on about her career, that fact that you were in college for your master’s, and that you were always available if he needed you. 

Since his attention was on your mom, you took the opportunity to study him up close. His blue eyes were sharp, giving one hundred percent of his focus on the person speaking. He had a prominent vein on the side of his neck and you imagined licking it. 

“Oh, I have to take this, excuse me,” your mom said. She answered her phone and stepped off of the porch. 

You turned to Steve who had his eyes trained on you. He barely blinked and did not look away. 

“So, military huh? That explains that,” you said. You waved at his figure and he laughed. It was deep and made you tingle.

“Thank you. I’m not active duty anymore, I’ve transitioned to the state side and do boring office work now. You home for the summer?” He asked.

“Yes, I am. Taking a break so no work, no homework, just time to decompress. Usually in the pool. This is one of the worst summers ever,” you said and fanned yourself.

Steve slowly perused your body. There was no mistaking that look in his eyes. He faintly smirked as he took in your outfit, your wide curves, your generous hips, and your thick thighs. 

He slowly dragged that gaze back up until he reached your face. “Make sure you stay cool, then. Dehydration is nothing to play with,” he said. 

Your mouth went dry under the intense heat of his gaze. You were aware. You were aware of him and aware of his focus. You bit your lips and his eyes zeroed in on it. His eyes narrowed.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You shifted your footing, trying to find some relief. The heat outside had nothing on his face. 

Your mom’s scuffling shoes took you out of the moment. He winked at you before your mom joined you. Though it was Saturday, her job needed her to come in and solve an emergency. She waved goodbye to Steve and told him not to be a stranger.

You waved bye, unable to speak at the moment. As you turned to leave, Steve grabbed your hand. He ran his fingers over your wrist as he leaned in.

“My favorite color is light blue. And you should get more of those garter things. They look divine on you,” he said. Gravel skated over ‘divine’ and you whimpered. You hoped he didn’t catch that. Your eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes and his eyes narrowed again. 

Your heart thundered in your chest. He knew what you had been doing all along. Your skin heated for entirely different reasons as you thought of all the different lingerie combinations you tried on in front of the window. It somehow made it filthier that he was getting naughty glimpses of you. It made you horny all day thinking of wearing the lingerie and that he didn’t know it was for him. 

It had gotten so bad, that you didn’t care if your parents were home. You had to get off on thinking that he helped select the combos. And those were some of the best orgasms you ever gave yourself. 

“Yes, sir,” you whispered and licked your lips. He smiled and nodded his head as if he were dismissing you. As if he had any right to order you around. 

Yet you left the porch and nearly skipped across the lawn like he told you. Before getting in the house, you looked back. He stood on the porch, facing you, with his hands in his pockets. You smiled and went inside, thinking of how many blue outfits you owned.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Someplace Like Home

Title: Someplace Like Home

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, minor injuries, minor blood, non-descriptive mentions of hospitals, mild language

Summary: Y/N owns a hostel in Croatia. When the very handsome Grant comes to work for her, she falls hard and fast for the new handyman.

A/N: This story takes place between Civil War and Infinity War, when Steve is on the run. There are a handful Croatian phrases/words used, which are translated at the end of this fic. Don’t ask me why all my Steve stories suddenly have foreign languages in them. As always, thanks for reading and supporting my writing in all the ways you do. Enjoy!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Your morning starts off slow, like it always does, and after the handful of guests have finished breakfast and left to spend the rest of the day at the beach or in the mountains, you settle yourself behind the front counter and pull out your laptop. The dirty dishes can wait until later—Ana will be here in an hour, and she prefers doing the dishes over going over the books, so you have an unspoken deal that you’ll do the bookkeeping if she cleans up after meals.

You’re just opening up the software on your laptop when the front door opens. The bell above it jingles as a man steps in, bringing with him a warm gust of air. June has been unseasonably cool, but today is the warmest it’s been in weeks. You’ve kept most of the windows open all morning, even though it was still a bit chilly.

“Dobro jutro,” you greet. You carefully shift the laptop off to the side a few inches, being careful not to mess up the carefully arranged papers you’ve sorted out on the counter.

“Kako vam mogu pomoći?”

The man has a gray hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s tall and blond, a dark blond that looks golden in the light from the outside but brown in the shadows. His thick beard and mustache are well-trimmed. You automatically open up the leatherbound reservation book and reach underneath the counter for a key. 

“Dobro jutro. Uh, govorite li engleski?” asks the man. He smiles politely, and you smile back, nodding.

“Of course,” you answer. “How can I help you?”

His eyes move to the pen in your hand, already poised over the next open spot in the reservation book. “I’m not here for a room. I’m here about the opening for a handyman.”

Surprised, you close the book again and tuck it back under the counter where it belongs, along with the key you’d grabbed. No one has come about the open position since you’d posted it months ago in the local cafe. Not even a sign outside the hostel has helped.

“In that case, my name’s Y/N. I’m the owner here.”

“Grant,” he replies, his hand already held out for you to shake.

You oblige with another smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Can I ask how you found out about the position? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town.”

He nods once. “I just moved here from Italy, and from Switzerland before that.”

“So you’re making your way through Europe, then?” you ask. You’re not entirely surprised—he looks rugged enough that he could handle a long backpacking trip or several months of solo travel, unlike some of the college students you normally have traipsing through your village.

“In a way,” he answers. “Truthfully, I’d like to settle down someplace, but it’s been a rough few years. I haven’t quite found the place that feels like home yet.”

Secretly, as you listen to him explain the various European cities in which he’s lived, you wish that he’ll come to feel at home here. Brdonik isn’t large enough to be on any maps, but it’s been your home for almost a decade now, and you can’t imagine a better place. The whole community bands together, and people look out for each other. There’s enough tourism from backpackers and small cruises that you’re not totally isolated, but you’re still far enough removed that your daily life isn’t saturated with commercialism and the big city nonsense you often hear about through your guests. You’d experienced it enough before coming to Croatia, and you don’t ever plan on going back to the life you’d had before you moved.

“To answer your question,”—Grant’s gentle continuation pulls you from your thoughts—“I saw a flier posted in the cafe down the street. I stopped there for lunch.”

“What did you order?” you ask. You prop an elbow up on the counter and level him with your gaze.

“Is that important?

“If you want this job it is. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they order at a restaurant.”

He smiles a little. “I got the turkey sandwich.”

You consider his choice for a moment before giving him a nod. “Simple, but respectable. A clear tourist choice, but I like it.”

“You can’t go wrong with a turkey sandwich,” he adds.

“It’s a classic!” You smile back at him and then come around the counter into the main part of the lobby. You grab your clipboard from its hook on the wall.

“Let me give you a tour,” you tell him. “I’ll point out some of the things that need fixing, and then you can tell me if you still think you’re a good fit.”

Grant agrees, and he walks beside you as you lead him through the hostel. You show him the currently unoccupied rooms, as well as the common areas, and you give him plenty of time to inspect the stalled projects and major fixes that he’d been in charge of. While he looks around, you watch him carefully. There’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he doesn’t set off any alarm bells in your head like some of the previous candidates had. He’s respectful of the property and the few lingering guests you come across, and Grant is polite enough to open doors for you as you approach them. He speaks softly and clearly, and his sense of humor is well-timed. Somehow, despite his hulking frame and obvious strength, you feel safe around him.

Eventually, you lead him to your office. Grant takes the seat in front of your desk and you close the door behind him, then sit behind your desk and pull a pad of paper from the drawer. He’s almost too big for the chair you normally reserve for college-age backpackers looking for a few days of housekeeping work. He’s relaxed, though, and he rests both arms on the thin wooden armrests as you get out what you need. You sneak a glance at him as you sit upright again. His eyes move slowly and carefully over the framed photos and documents on the wall, taking in each one of them individually before he moves onto the next—your college diploma from NYU, a photo of you with your family the last time they came to visit, a certificate of operation from the local government. His backpack is leaning up against the front leg of the chair and his left leg, and you briefly wonder how he’s afforded to travel so much. The bag looks brand new, and high-tech, too. Is he a tech mogul of some kind? A grown-up trust fund kid? Did he steal it, or is he just really good with money?

“You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t have any questions prepared for you,” you tell him as you reach for a pen.

He nods and looks back at you. “You weren’t expecting me to walk in today, I understand.”

“Either way, I have to say that so far, I’m very impressed with you.” You glance up again and give him a polite smile, then look back down as you write his name and the date at the top of the page. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Carter,” he says.

Nodding, you add that at the top and make your first bullet point.

“Grant Carter. Are you named after someone? That seems a pretty traditional name for a guy your age.” You immediately cringe at the question. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. My mother was a big fan of Ulysses S. Grant.”

“The 18th president?” you ask, grinning wide.

He nods and lets out another small laugh. “That’s the one.”

“He’s not normally up there on peoples’ lists of favorite presidents.”

“She had her reasons, I guess,” Grant shrugs.

You hum a little with a smile and look back down at your almost empty legal pad. You have a million questions that you want to ask, and more that you know you should, but you allow yourself to think for a moment before you look up again. Whatever you ask has to be the right mix of the two.

“You’ve lived in a lot of really impressive places,” you begin, and Grant nods in confirmation. “Why come here? There are plenty of larger cities with more job openings. Better paying job openings,” you add.

“You sell yourself short,” Grant easily replies. He sits forward a little, his elbows sliding closer to the ends of the armrests. “Your town is beautiful. It’s comfortable, and a bit secluded. I’m looking for something quieter.”

“A lot of people are, but we’re not often what they want in the long run. How long are you planning on staying?”

Grant stares at you for a long moment before he replies, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a clearer answer.”

“I plan on staying indefinitely, but if it changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Not quite satisfied with his answer, you still scribble down the response and make a second point on the next line down.

“Do you have handyman experience?”

Grant shakes his head. “But I’m a quick learner and I’m stronger than I look. Whatever I don’t already know how to do, I’ll pick it up quickly if I can get the information from someone or somewhere.”

I highly doubt you’re stronger than you look, you think, forcing yourself to look down at the paper and write, rather than at him. You already look pretty damn strong.

“Do you have a previous employer I can contact? Or references?”

“I can have that information to you by the end of the day.”

You nod and keep writing, and you don’t look up as you say, “We don’t typically provide housing for employees, as we’re a small enough village that commute isn’t an issue, but given that you’re new to town, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a place to stay yet.”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“I can get you set up in a room here, if that’s alright with you. I won’t expect you to work outside of normal business hours, except in an emergency, but that’s the same even if you lived off-property,” you tell him, looking up. You don’t lift your pen, and it’s a little satisfying to see that Grant looks mildly surprised. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be surprised by anything.

“You’re hiring me?” he asks.

“Should I not?”

He quickly recovers and shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “I was just surprised that you’re not waiting until after you’ve seen my references.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

“I don’t think so, no.

“Are you a terrible employee?” you ask, putting your pen down on the desk.

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

“Should I be concerned about criminal activity?”

Grant laughs. “I’m a model citizen, though I did steal a piece of cake when I was a kid.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the local authorities,” you tease, grinning. You slide the notepad onto your desk and stand, holding out your hand for him to shake. Grant obliges. “You’re hired, Mr. Carter. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in before your first day tomorrow.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he replies.

“I won’t take the room out of your salary unless it prevents us from taking guests, but I don’t see that becoming an issue, except maybe in mid-July,” you tell him as you move around the desk to the door. “The handyman position pays 800 euros a month. You’ll be paid bi-weekly in check or cash, whichever your preference. We don’t have direct deposit here. If you need an account in town, there’s a bank down the road.”

“Cash is fine,” he says. He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder before following you back out into the hallway, then out to the lobby. You make a pit stop at the front desk to grab a key before heading up the main staircase.

The private, single person rooms on the third floor are a little older, and you briefly worry as you climb the stairs if the beds will be able to hold Grant’s weight. You don’t use them as often now that you’ve finished transforming the old hotel into a hostel. There’s a thin coating of dust on the handrail and you make a mental note to give this floor a thorough cleaning tomorrow while he’s occupied, that way you won’t be intruding. 

You lead Grant to the end of the hall, where the rooms are slightly larger and the windows overlook the ocean. While the view is great, most of your summer guests only fill the dorm-style rooms, so you’re fairly certain you won’t be missing out on any profit by giving him this room.

“Here we are,” you say, and you open the door before stepping aside so he can enter first.

Grant ducks through the doorway and flips the light switch, then looks around in silence. You wait in the hallway, holding your breath as he makes his inspection.

“This is nice,” he finally says, looking back at you. He drops his bag at the foot of the bed. “You’re sure it’s alright if I stay here?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Your phone chimes in your back pocket and you pull it out, quickly reading the notification. It’s only mildly urgent, but you can feel Grant trying to look occupied as he waits for you to leave, so you look up and gesture back towards the stairs with your phone. 

“I’ve gotta take care of something, but you’re in luck. Every Thursday night we host a group dinner for the guests. The food is all cooked by a chef from a local restaurant in an attempt to promote the local cuisine, so you’re welcome to join us, or I can recommend some other restaurants in the area, if you want to explore a little bit more. We eat at seven.”

Nodding, Grant smiles and crosses the room to pull the key from where you’d left it in the lock. “I’ll see you at seven. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Grant. Welcome aboard!” You smile once more, then turn and head back down the hall. His door closes as you reach the top of the stairs, and suddenly, you can’t wait for dinnertime.

You occupy yourself for the majority of the day by compiling a list of projects for Grant, as well as contacting the references he sends you using the email address on the hostel’s website. He gets glowing reviews from each and every person on the list, though they all seem a little confused when you first ask about him. 

Grant comes down to the first floor at five minutes to seven, and you’re just greeting the first small group of guests to arrive back from their excursions when he steps down from the bottom step. You glance over and give him a quick, acknowledging smile before turning back to the guests.

“Dobor dan! How was your time at the beach?” you ask. They reply politely in a mix of English and their own native language. You vaguely recognize it as French. You’re about to tell them in English about the dinner schedule, hoping that they’ll understand at least partially, but Grant begins talking in rapid-fire French before you even open your mouth.

It takes everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping straight through the floor. None of Grant’s references had mentioned he was bilingual, and neither did he. It feels like it should’ve been obvious, however, given that every single person he’d talked to had mentioned his incredible intelligence and ability to pick up skills quicker than anybody they knew.

Still, you watch in stunned silence from behind the front desk and Grant chatters with the guests. He leads them from the lobby and into the adjoining sitting area, where you hear them sit down and continue to talk. Someone laughs, and then Grant does, too. It’s a deep, mellow baritone, and you catch yourself grinning before you manage to stifle it.

When the next group of guests walk in, you guide them into the sitting room with the others. Grant catches your eye as you turn the corner, and when he smiles, you swear that your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s your employee, you chide yourself, and you turn your back on the group on the premise of prepping a plate of cookies for the coffee table.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” you say as you set the plate in the center of the group. Grant translates for you, first in French, and then in a language that sounds almost Spanish, but you know enough of that to know that it’s something different. All the guests nod in agreement.

You settle against one of the heavy wood bookshelves and watch quietly as Grant chats with the guests, switching fluidly between languages whenever he turns to a new person. It’s amazing, so you simply stay silent as you listen to the flurry of foreign words in the sitting room. You’ve never heard the pre-dinner conversation so lively. It brings a new warmth to the hostel, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the guests come alive, even though they’re exhausted.

“Dinner is ready!” Ana calls. She pokes her head in the door, and she smiles wide when she sees the guests talking excitedly. Every seat is taken. When she turns to look at you, you only grin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer so she can lower her voice. “Who is that?”

You lean in, whispering, “His name is Grant. He’s the new handyman, and apparently, he speaks multiple languages.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know when I hired him! This,” you gesture with one hand towards the circle of guests, who have started to rise now that Grant has passed along the message about dinner, “was a surprise to me, too. He just started talking to them on his own. I didn’t ask him to do anything.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, giving you a meaningful look. Before you can scold her for trying to meddle in your love life, she slips away and Grant appears at your side.

“Who is that?” he asks.

Goosebumps erupt on your arms at the sound of his deep voice so close to your ear. He’s leaned down so you can hear him clearly, and though he’s not quite in your space, he’s still close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. It should feel stifling in the early summer heat, but it’s comforting, and you turn towards him with a bright smile.

“Ana. She’s the manager when I’m not here. I’ll introduce you later. How come you never told me you spoke all those languages?” you ask.

Grant just smiles back at you. “You never asked.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to my list of questions for the next time I have to hire someone.” You gesture at the line of guests filtering through the doorway to the hostel’s dining room. “We should eat. Most of the guests have spent all day hiking or at the beach, and they’ll be hungry. Our local chefs are all amazing, so the food always goes quickly.”

“What’s on the menu?” Grant asks. He starts to walk and you fall into step beside him, noting how he angles himself sideways and stoops through the doorway so that you’re not squashed into the doorframe. It’s a miracle he doesn’t hit his head on any of the lowered ceilings or hanging decor in the building.

I’ll have to warn him about the lights in the rooms on the second floor, you note.

“Punjene paprike. Stuffed peppers,” you translate. You pause and watch as the guests choose their seats, silently making sure there are enough chairs. When it’s clear you’ve done the math correctly, you look over at Grant. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugs and surveys the long table filled with food. People are already piling their plates high and chattering with their friends and family, and the room is filled with amicable noise. The sun coming in from the windows is golden. The windows face south, which is one of the many reasons why you’d first purchased the building. It needs a lot of work, and it always has, but the view of the ocean from the dining room windows, along with the way the sun illuminates the whole room, helps make all the work worth it.

“This place is beautiful,” says Grant, quietly. “You’ve done well.”

You look over at him, surprised at the praise. It warms you from the inside out, and you smile when he meets your eyes. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard.”

He nods, and after a moment, he gestures towards the table. There are two empty seats beside each other, near the far end of the room. Ana has taken the seat across from them and she’s already begun to eat.

You follow Grant across the dining room, and you try not to act surprised when he pulls out the chair and helps you sit before taking the spot beside yours. Ana catches your eye as you reach for a dish, but you look away. You can’t risk having her embarrass you in front of the guests.

Or Grant, the cheeky little voice in your brain adds, but you quickly push the thought to the far reaches of your brain. Showing your hand—and your burgeoning feelings for Grant—right now is something you need even less.

“So, you’re from New York?” he asks.

You look up from where you’re pulling a napkin into your lap. “What?”

“Your degree. It’s from NYU, so I’m assuming that you’re from the States.”

Nodding, you allow him to serve one of the peppers onto your plate, and you heap an extra serving of rice onto the side of your plate before handing him the bowl. You don’t want to assume he likes anything, especially since he ordered one of the most American things on the menu at the cafe.

“I am. I grew up in Manhattan, and I decided to stay there for college. Once I got my degree in hospitality, I decided it was time I see more of the world,” you tell him. 

“Why Croatia?” Grant asks.

You shrug and pick up your fork. “Honestly? I don’t know why. I didn’t even mean to come here. I ended up on the wrong train and decided to stick it out. I figured it would be a fun experience either way, but I fell in love with it here. On my second day here, I saw that this building was up for sale and I had just enough money in my savings to buy it. It was a big risk, but I think that it was worth it.”

He looks around the room, listening to the conversations for a few moments before he smiles. “I think so, too.”

“Where are you from?” you ask. “You’re clearly American.”

Grant laughs at that, nodding. “I grew up in Brooklyn. When I was old enough, I served in the army for a few years, and since then I’ve just been… traveling.”

The army thing makes sense, and you file that information away for later. The two of you start to eat, exchanging a few more words throughout the meal. Grant offers to help Ana with the dishes. She’s giddy at the proposal, so you let them head into the kitchen as you help guests arrange their plans for the next day. You find yourself straining to listen for the sound of his voice during the quiet moments, however, but by the time the dishes are finished, Grant tells you that he’s exhausted and he wants to get a good night’s rest before his first day on the job. You wish him goodnight from the front desk, then wait for Ana to appear and barrage you with a million questions about the new handyman.

You learn quickly that there’s even more to Grant than meets the eye. He’d been telling the truth in his interview—he’s deceptively strong, and he really does learn quicker than anyone you’ve ever met. His Croatian improves leaps and bounds in the first few months at the hostel. By the end of the summer, he’s practically fluent, even if he does bumble through some of the more complicated phrases with a faint blush on his cheeks.

The longstanding projects for the hostel are all completed by the end of August, leaving you scrambling to keep Grant busy. When you can’t find anything to do, however, he busies himself by exploring the far reaches of the island, speaking with the guests in a myriad of languages, and keeping you company in the lobby or in your office. His presence, which had once seemed much too large for the old brick building, has settled. He seems at home in the armchair you buy for the corner of your office, and he’s become a fixture in the doorway of the lobby, where he likes to stand and watch traffic pass by.

It’s on one of the hottest days of the year that you first get a glimpse behind Grant’s ever-friendly facade. You’re behind the desk, going through the reservations for the upcoming week, when there’s a shout from outside. The front door to the hostel is propped open in an attempt to let in a breeze, and Grant has taken up residence in his normal spot. You’ve only just processed the shout when there’s an explosion. The floor beneath you shakes and shudders, and you grip the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep upright.

Grant whirls around and fixes his eyes on you. He’s scanning you, up and down, searching for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, swallowing thickly, and peer over his shoulder. There’s no sign of what’s happened outside, but you can hear screaming and shouting. There’s a gunshot and you flinch.

“Stay here, and stay hidden,” says Grant, and you know in an instant that it’s an order. “Stay quiet and don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

Nodding again, you drop to a crouch, then curl up on the floor with your back against the desk. You clutch your phone in one hand and listen as Grant closes, then locks the door. When he doesn’t appear behind the desk, you crawl over to the side and look out into the small lobby. He’s gone.

Your arms shake beneath you and you have to fall back against the desk for support before you fall flat on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to the commotion outside. There are no more explosions, but you hear more screams and shouts, followed by a crash and gunshots. Your heart pounds in your chest as the noise gets closer and closer. You know that Grant was in the army, so he must have military training, but the thought of him outside—the thought of him in danger—makes you want to puke.

There’s a thud against the front door and you flinch. Your body tenses and you curl up in the fetal position, trying to maintain your breathing. It doesn’t work, however, and when there’s another bang, you scream.

“Molim! Molim, let me in!”

You look around the edge of the desk again. It’s a woman on the other side, and the desperation in her voice propels you to your feet and into the lobby without a second thought. You twist the lock and yank open the door.

A slim woman dressed entirely in black grins at you. Her eyes are a shocking shade of electric blue and her teeth are bright white—a stark contrast against the mask that hides the rest of her features.

“Sorry, dragi,” she says, and you gasp when she reveals the gun in her left hand. With the other, she reaches out and grabs you. “You’re coming with me.”

“No!” You fight against the woman’s grip, and when you lift your eyes to search for help from someone else, you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Grant is lifting a car off someone. He lifts the car and tosses it aside with a heave and a grunt, and then he’s fighting someone hand-to-hand. The man in black is clearly trained because he gets in a few hits, but Grant never stays down for long. He’s slowly forcing the man back down the street, towards the beach, instead of towards the line of shops that’s on the other side of the hostel.

There’s a blast as another explosive goes off, this time in a restaurant diagonal from your front door. Stone and rubble flies in every direction. The street is empty of people, thankfully, except for the people Grant is fighting. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm is going off, and the light from the harsh midday sun is almost blinding. Your ears are ringing from the blast and the alarm. You think you scream at some point, but you’re not sure.

The man that Grant has been fighting has been thrown back by the blast, but Grant is still standing, as if he’s anchored onto the pavement. There’s a metal car door in his hand. He’s gripping onto a piece of the leather interior, and the red painted finish on the outside has been battered by the flying debris. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

The woman drags you out of the hostel and onto the street. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and places the gun against the side of your head. You stop struggling then, and your breath catches in your throat as your heart begins to pound even harder. Your vision is going blurry along the edges, but not enough to miss the way Grant’s jaw clenches when he catches sight of you.

“Captain Rogers!” the woman shouts.

He throws a second man off of him and turns fully towards you and the woman. “Let her go!”

In your ear, the woman chuckles. It’s low and dark, and full of malice, and you shiver. You close your eyes and pray that it’s all just a bad dream.

“Not until you come with us,” the woman replies.

“Leave her and the others out of this.”

When you open your eyes, Grant is looking past you at the woman. The light reflects in his deep blue eyes, and it’s then that you realize what he’s been hiding from you.

How did I miss it before?

“Steve Rogers,” you choke.

He looks at you again. “Y/N…”

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

There’s a pause as he watches you with clear regret, and then the woman laughs, shocking you out of your revelation.

“How precious!” she exclaims. “Your little boss had no clue who you were?”

“Let. Her. Go.” Steve takes a step forward and the woman’s grip on you tightens. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you when she pushes the gun harder against your head, making you crane your neck to one side.

Two new men in black come up behind Steve. He turns his head slightly, listening to their approach, but he doesn’t move. You can tell that he’s calculating what to do next.

There’s a moment of clarity as you watch them launch themselves at him. Steve fights like he was born for it—and maybe he was, you rationalize—and as he easily overcomes them both, you have a revelation that’s nothing short of a rock at the pit of your stomach.

Steve has to get out of this alive. So many people count on him, and they always have. Though you know that there are a lot of people all over the world who consider him a criminal, you also know that there are a lot of people just like you that think Steve deserves a place of honor for all that he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made.

The safety on the woman’s gun clicks off and Steve freezes. The two men take advantage of that, and they grab his arms, pulling them tightly behind his back and pushing him to his knees. He falls with a grunt. One of the men grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back until he’s looking at you and the woman from his place on the ground. He doesn’t fight back.

“Steve,” you plead. “You have to fight. You can’t let them take you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. He shifts his gaze to the woman without moving his head. “If I go with you, you’ll let her go?”

“You have my word.”

Heat swells in your eyes and you know that you’re about to cry. “No! Don’t trust her, Steve! You can’t believe her!”

The woman jostles you and you close your eyes on instinct. A tear slips down your cheek.

“Shut up,” she growls. 

You swallow thickly. At your sides, your hands and fingers have gone numb, and your legs are barely holding you upright. 

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “I’ll go with you.”

A sob bursts through and the woman releases you. She practically throws you to the ground, and you have just enough time to get your arms out in front of you before you hit the road. Pain shoots up both limbs and the pavement digs into your forearms. From where you lay, you watch the men pull Steve to his feet. He moves with them and doesn’t fight back as they drag him to a black cargo van on the perimeter of the blast zone.

“Steve!” you scream. Your voice breaks and your throat feels raw as you push yourself up and stumble in their direction. The movement sends pins and needles into your hands and feet, but you do it anyway. Your limbs feel completely out of your control as you attempt to go after them.

Steve looks back at you. He’s too far now for you to make out his expression, but you can see that he’s trying to tell you something. The man on his right shoves his shoulder and he’s forced into the van. 

“Let him go! Steve!” You start to sprint, running after the van as the back door slides shut and the woman, who climbed into the driver’s seat while you were getting to your feet, begins to navigate it through the rubble from the explosions. The tinted windows keep you from seeing Steve inside and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

“Someone help me! Stop that van!”

You run until you physically can’t. The van is long gone, and when you collapse onto the street, a crowd gathers around you. People are murmuring and asking you questions. There are too many hands, too many faces, even if many of them are familiar. Your vision swims as you’re rolled onto your back. The summer sun beats down on you harder, and you try to focus, but all you can manage is a mumble of Steve’s name before you lose consciousness on the pavement.

When you wake, the soft beeping noise is enough to tell you that you’re in a hospital. You open your eyes, expecting to be greeted by white walls and bedding, and maybe a wall of cabinets with a sink. Instead, there’s a slanted wall of glass windows, each separated by a pillar of concrete. Thin, almost invisible computer screens with golden text are scattered around your room, each displaying charts, figures, and data in a language you can’t read. Some are embedded into the walls on either side of the bed, while others float above white counters that look more like control panels for a spaceship. There are scans of someone’s body and brain—your brain, you realize after a long moment—that spin in circles on the floating screens.

A hiss makes you flinch, and you quickly look away from the brain scan to where a young, dark-skinned girl is walking in through a set of sliding glass doors you hadn’t seen before. Her white, high-necked sheath dress looks nothing like hospital attire, especially since it’s sleeveless and only has mesh to cover her shoulders and a few inches below her knees, but she’s holding a tablet and looks so serious that you wonder if maybe she’s not a regular doctor. After all, this doesn’t seem like a normal hospital. Where are you? Did the men in black come back to get you, too?

“Y/N, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks.

Her accent is jarring, and you blink. When you go to speak, you have to lick your lips a few times. They’re dry, and your mouth feels so much like sandpaper that for a moment you don’t think you’ll actually be able to say anything at all.

“Where am I?” you finally ask in return. “Who are you?”

She smiles briefly and checks something on her tablet, then glances over at one of the floating screens off to the side. Seemingly satisfied, she locks the device and sets it aside.

“My name is Shuri. You’re in Wakanda. You will be safe here.”

You frown. “Wakanda?” None of the hospitals even remotely close to the hostel hold that name, not even in passing, but it sounds familiar.

“Yes. We’re friends of Captain Rogers. When we heard about his capture, and how you were involved, we brought you here.”

Tears burn hot in your eyes as the memories from the street outside the hostel come flooding back all at once. How long have you been in the hospital? Who’s looking for Steve?

“We have located him already,” she continues, and you inhale sharply, shifting in the bed as you reach up to wipe your face. “And the Dora Milaje has been sent to retrieve him.”

“The what?” you ask. Your voice shakes and you swallow hard in an attempt to steady yourself.

Shuri smiles again. “The Dora Milaje. They are our special forces here in Wakanda. Let me ask again, how are you feeling?”

You move in the bed a little bit more, testing your limbs for stiffness or pain. Surprisingly, there’s very little. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Confused, mostly. Thirsty.” Your stomach growls, so you quickly add, “Hungry.”

She laughs and nods, then picks up her tablet. Shuri taps a few times before glancing down at something through the slanted windows. 

“Someone will bring you food shortly. I’ll also have someone come change the bandages on your hands and wrists. Your injuries are healing nicely. You should still rest a while longer, but I will make sure you’re notified when Captain Rogers has been safely returned.”

Nodding, you sit back against the pillows, but you quickly sit up again with a gasp. “The hostel! Ana!”

“We’ve sent someone to assist Miss Mitrovich in your absence,” Shuri soothes. She steps closer to the bed and you lie back as she approaches. “There were very few repairs that needed to be done to your building, but they are taken care of, and all your guests are safe. I have already dispatched a team of Wakandan specialists to help with the rebuild of Brdonik. We are also installing a security system in your building.”

You sigh in relief and close your eyes, swallowing against the dryness again. You lay in silence, listening to Shuri as she moves around the room and mutters to herself. When you finally open your eyes again, it’s because she’s greeting someone as the sliding glass doors hiss open for a second time.

“Grant,” you murmur, and he gives you a weak smile from just inside the doorway. You correct yourself, shaking your head. “Steve.”

“Grant is my middle name,” he quietly explains. “And Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” you finish. “I see the connection now.”

While waiting for your food, you’ve slowly been piecing together the different parts of Steve’s life that you knew, trying to get the full picture. You’ve known him personally as Grant, the quiet man from Brooklyn that is good with his hands, always knows exactly what to say when you’re in a bad mood, and is a hit with every guest that crosses your threshold. On the other hand, you also know him as Steve, the All-American super-soldier that’s plastered across every history textbook you’ve ever been given. He’s also the super-soldier that you’ve watched on the news, listening to reporter after reporter praise him like he’s a god, then publicly curse and shame him on their next breath.

Shuri quietly excuses herself. You stare at Steve as she leaves through the sliding doors behind him. There’s a cut above his right eyebrow, and blood caked in his beard, right below a nasty split in his lower lip. He’s standing lopsided, like he’s keeping the weight off his right foot, and he looks like he could use a shower and a long nap.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” Steve answers. He sighs. “For getting you hurt. For putting you in danger.”

You shake your head and sit up a little more in the bed, allowing the pillows to prop you upright. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is, and—”

“And nothing,” you interrupt. You give him a stern look and he presses his lips together with a wince. “You didn’t know that there was any danger. If you had, wouldn’t you have left?”

After a second, Steve nods, and you continue,

“And if you’d been able to stop it from happening, you would’ve, right?”

Another nod and you smooth the surprisingly soft hospital blanket over your legs.

“Then it’s not really your fault, Grant. Steve,” you correct again, more firmly this time. You’re still coming to terms with the fact that he’s not 100% who he said he was.

“But you still got hurt. I still put you in danger just by being there. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I got too comfortable, and too close, and I was careless.”

You purse your lips and watch him for several moments. Steve stays still under your inspection, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, you tell him, “I don’t regret what happened, and if I had the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’m not in mortal danger, and you’re safe again. The hostel is being taken care of. None of the guests got hurt. Tourism might be down for a couple months but…” You shrug. “It’s the end of the busiest season anyway, and I have enough savings that I’m not going to worry.”

Steve shakes his head at you, then turns to look at the screens. He doesn’t seem to be actually reading them, but he puts his hands on his hips as he stares at a spinning scan of your hand and wrist.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

He turns back. He’s silent for a few seconds as he watches you fidget with the hem of the blanket in your lap. “No,” Steve finally replies. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

When he doesn’t move, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You’re not dressed in a normal hospital gown—someone has put you in leggings and a tunic of some kind—but you still shiver when your bare feet touch the floor.

“Y/N—” Steve limps towards you, holding both hands out to steady you if you lose your balance. You don’t, and he stops a few feet away.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steve,” you say. You start to close the distance between the two of you even more. “Not a single minute.”

“Volim te,” Steve murmurs.

You freeze, now within arm’s reach. “What?”

“Volim te.”

Your brain is working a mile a minute to catch up with what he’s said. Steve shifts in place, wincing as he transfers the weight to his injured leg. 

“You should get that checked out,” you quietly tell him, glancing down at his leg.

He stares at you, as if he was expecting a different response. You know he was, but you’re suddenly so overwhelmed by everything that it’s the first thing out of your mouth. 

“I—” You close your eyes and shake your head, letting out a small self-conscious chuckle. “I’m sorry. I love you too, Steve. I do. I love you. I don’t— I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m just worried—”

He cuts you off by stepping into your space and cupping your face with one hand. His fingers thread up into your hair and he tilts your head back so he can press his lips to yours. Your arms fall limp at your sides for a second, but then your brain catches up. You close your eyes and reach up to put one hand on the back of his neck. The other slides around his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses you.

Steve’s body is warm and though he winces with pain, then pulls away slightly to touch his fingers to his busted lip, neither one of you actually moves away from the other. You stay close enough to feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs.

“And you need a doctor,” you reply.

He smiles a little, more just pressing his lips together than anything, and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes again when he lingers.

“Don’t go,” he says as you step away. 

You frown and crowd close again, and you place both hands on his chest. “Steve?”

“No. I mean, you should go now, but…” He struggles for a second, trying to find the words he wants to say, and you wait patiently. “What I meant was: Don’t go back to Croatia. Stay with me.”

“What about the hostel? What about Ana and the guests?”

“I’ve heard you say a thousand times that she could probably run the place on her own. Plus, it’s the end of the busiest season, and after everything that’s happened, tourism will probably be low. You said it yourself.” 

Steve reaches up to pull your hands off of him, but he holds them and rubs little circles over your knuckles with his thumbs. He watches you carefully, giving you his full attention. His eyes are deep and blue, and the crinkle between his eyebrows has disappeared completely now that he’s sure you’re okay.

“So, what? I’d stay here in Wakanda? What would I do?” you ask, frowning. “They don’t really have tourists here, do they? It’s not like they need a hostel.”

“No, but I need a partner.”

“Don’t you already have partners, Steve? What about the Falcon? Or Black Widow? Or even your friend that you told me about—James? Isn’t he a superhero, too?” 

Shaking his head, he answers, “That’s not the kind of partner I need, Y/N. I don’t need a partner to fight with. I need a partner that I can live with. Someone to make a home with.”

You stare at him for a second, allowing your brain to process what he’s just said, and then you give him a slow, sly smile. Inside, you’re giddy and jumping up and down, but all you do is pull your hands in a little more so he has to step closer to you.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” His ears are starting to turn a bright shade of pink, and it’s beginning to creep along his cheekbones as well, just above his beard. 

Steve’s still holding your hands captive, so you simply raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a place to live here in Wakanda? Or are we going to be staying here in my hospital room until you find one?”

He shrugs and grins back at you. “King T’Challa gave me an apartment.”

“The king gave you an apartment?” You pull your hands away and step back. You can’t hide your disbelief, though deep down, you figure it’s very likely that the king tried to give Steve more. He’s a hero, even if most of the world doesn’t believe it.

“The princess was just in here going over your medical information, and you’re shocked that he gave me an apartment?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You gape at him even more. “You’re kidding. Steve, that was not—”

“Princess Shuri. She’s made most of the technology around here, and she oversees the recovery of important patients. Like you,” he adds.

“If I’d known—”

He leans in and kisses your forehead again. “You don’t need to bow or anything. They don’t do that here, though I’m sure she’d appreciate a thank you the next time you see her. Maybe compliment one of her inventions. T’Challa says she likes that.”

“The next time?” you hiss. “Steve—”

This time, he laughs at you. It’s a full-bodied laugh, unlike the sparse chuckles you’ve gotten out of him since his return, and you relax. You smile, too, a real smile that makes your cheeks ache as you press your burning face against his chest. Steve wraps his arms around you. His body shakes as he laughs, but he quickly settles down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you tell him, not letting go. In fact, you hug him tighter around the waist with both arms.

“Me too. Come on, ljubavi. Let’s go home.”

Dobro jutro = Good morning

Kako vam mogu pomoći? = How can I help you?

Govorite li engleski? = Do you speak English?

Dobor dan = Good afternoon

Molim = Please

Dragi = Darling

Volim te = I love you

Ljubavi = Love/my love

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

If  you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium​ @delicatecapnerd

[witchywithwhiskey]

slasher summer masterlist

summerween is over, and so is my slasher summer writing challenge. as promised, here's the masterlist of all entries in the challenge (if yours is missing, please DM me!)

thank you to everyone who participated, as well as all readers who liked, reblogged and commented on the fics!! i loved getting to read everyone's stories and see what y'all did with the prompts. you're all so creative and lovely—thank you again!!!

for readers, please heed the warnings on each individual post below, your media consumption is your responsibility. and please make sure to show your support of the writers by reblogging their work!!!

When He First Got Me by @buckets-and-trees

pairing: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader summary: Prequel in the Exiled Nomad Series. July 3, 2017. Steve sees you at a city festival for the Fourth of July, but he's not content with only seeing…

Dirty Little Secret by @buckys-wintersoldier

pairing: Professor!Ari Levinson x Student!Female!Reader summary: You share a dirty little secret with your professor.

In the Woods by @thezombieprostitute

pairing: James Mace x Female!Reader x Chris Beck summary: Using the prompts: Summer Camp; Sex in the Woods; You know how girls love to scream

Not A Common Storm by @nekoannie-chan

pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent of HYDRA!Reader summary: You and Steve are trapped in a storm, what would happen?

Once Upon A Friendship by @steviebbboi

pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

Rosa by @perdidosbucky-yyo

pairing: Best Friend!Steve Rogers x Plus Size! Female!Reader summary: Trapped in a prison of your husband and your mother’s expectations, your only comfort is the ghost in your garden, haunted by the memory of your best friend. You thought you would never see him again but when he unexpectedly returns home from the war after 12 years, you’re not prepared for what’s to come.

A Night of Frights & Delights by @elixirfromthestars

pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays by @buckets-and-trees

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Female Reader summary: A first date with your neighbor Bucky Barnes.

Fool Me Once… by @dc418writes

pairing: Ari Levinson x BlackReader, Pete Brenner x BlackReader summary: Who knew grudges could be so deadly?

Slasher by @witchywithwhiskey

pairing: DARK Horror Movie Villain!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader summary: Somehow, you end up in your favorite old horror movie, and you decide to take the opportunity to fulfill one of your fantasies—you're gonna fuck the villain, Bucky Barnes.

[nerdieforpedro]

The Brave, the Bold, The Dirty - Fanfics that I adore

Volume 5

All fanfics on this list are for readers age 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they're there so you know what's in them. Read at your own risk.

Room 1918 by @megamindsecretlair (Nomad Steve Rogers x Black female plus size reader)

Sweet Treat - Part Two by @mrsmando (Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x plus size female reader) Follow up to 'Sweet Treat - part one.'

La Petit Mort @boliv-jenta (Joel Miller x reader and Dave York x reader) Dark Fic

Misfire @qveerthe0ry (Dieter Bravo x GN reader)

Fluffer by @proxima-writes (Dieter Bravo x PA female writer)

Hey Good Lookin’ - part one and Hey Good Lookin’ - part two by @gwendibleywrites (Chubby shy Frankie Morales x plus size reader)

Lemonade Sparkles by @frenchiereading (Frankie Morales x female reader)

Watta Man - A Marcus Pike Story by @atinylittlepain (Marcus Pike x female reader)

O’ Christmas Tree by @covetyou (Dieter Bravo x GN reader)

Lingerie by @604to647 (Din Djarin - modern AU x female reader)

Once in a Blue Moon by @whatsnewalycat (Dieter Bravo x female reader)

Hold Harder by @sin-djarin (Tim Rockford x female reader)

Christmas Indulgence by @movievillainess721 (Jack Daniels x plus size female reader)

Cowboy Hat Joel x Reader (an ask) by @theywhowriteandknowthings (Joel Miller x female reader)

Oh, The Wildflowers by @adora-but-ginger (Joel Miller x GN reader)

A Nanny for Christmas by @absurdthirst (Dave York x plus size female reader)

Baker Wonderland by @integra1127grimmreaper (Javier Guterrez x plus size female reader)

Consummating the Riduurok @beskarandblasters (Din Djarin x female reader)

Consent by @fuckyeahdindjarin (Dieter Bravo x female reader)

White Christmas by @absurdthirst (Joel Miller x female reader)

Symphony by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x Jersey - OFC)

What the Heart Wants by @artemiseamoon (Pero Tovar x female reader)

Javier Peña & His Sweetheart (Chubby Peña) by @beefrobeefcal (Chubby Javier Peña x female reader)

Please check out everyone's listed fics and master lists! Don't forget to reblog and comment, writers love interactions. 🥰

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

A different kind of Haunted

Summary: You and your friends visit a haunted house, but what you find is not what you expected.

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!reader (plus-size)

Warnings: 18+content, self-esteem issues/body image issues, stalking, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual sexual acts, mentions of loss (close family members), breeding kink

Word count: 8.6k (I am incapable of writing short things, forgive me)

A/N: This is my submission for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Halloween writing challenge. Bless you for making this challenge open-ended, truly, because I cannot meet deadlines for the life of me. Especially since my inspiration has died in a corner behind my closet and I couldn’t get to its rotting corpse until a few weeks ago. I managed to revive that little shit. It’s... different now but we gotta work with what we got, lol 😂

Anyhow, my prompt was “Your friends dare you to sneak into the old house said to be haunted.” 

I interpreted it in a way that may not be what you expect, but I liked the idea so much and I hope y’all like it too! ☺️

...

You blow out a low sigh, eyes tracking the clowd of your warm breath as it hangs in the cold air around you. Your hands are frozen, cold fingers curling around the edges of the book you're holding.

The end of October came with a harsh drop in temperature and to you it feels like nature decided to skip autumn alltogether to dive headlong into the cold, dark winter months.

If it wasn't for the colourful leaves scattering about the cold ground and floating through the air, driven by freezing winds, you could have sworn it is winter already.

You close the book – a rather lenghty novel you couldn't quite get into – and set it down on the bench next to you. Stretching out your legs in front of you, you supress a ywan and glance at the neatly arranged plants decorating the rectangular grave a few feet away from where you sit.

It had taken a while for you to get the hang of maintaining your parents' grave. Your eyes wander over the small, grey headstone that has their names and the dates of their birth and death etched into it. The latter is the same.

The first couple of months you hadn't done much of anything but sit at the grave and cry your eyes out for hours on end, but as time passed, you slowly gathered the shattered pieces of your being and put them back together in a manner that has you functioning more or less.

You did research on how to maintain graves, took walks around the graveyard to get some inspiration from the numerous other graves and eventually settled into properly taking care of the one that was, and still is, your responsibility.

This is the first time you actually planted some things instead of just putting loose flowers or arrangements on the slightly overgrown grave. It was a tedious task, but you still remember the sense of accomplishment you felt when you looked at the neatly groomed grave, long lasting flowers and greens framing the simple headstone.

The nice lady at the flower shop was really helpful with choosing the correct plants. You got a pretty Christmas Rose, an extraordinary kind with pinkish petals instead of the usual white or green, a pink heather, a plant with little red berries on it – gaultheria, you recall the name the florist told you – and a pretty ivy that had nice white edges instead of being fully green like the normal kind.

It's not overly colourful, but the flowers would survive the winter and make sure the grave doesn't look too bleak during the cold months of the year.

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of the reverie you had fallen into and push to your feet with a grunt, stiff legs wobbly under you. The book is stowed away in your backpack and you walk up to the grave, two fingers sweeping along the headstone.

“See you tomorrow, guys. Love you,” you say quietly, the familiar prick of welling tears promting you to quickly turn away and gaze out at the bench before leaving for the day. You will return tomorrow, as you do every day.

You tredge along the same path you always take, tall trees and bushes lining it on both sides. There's a quiet crack in the underbrush to your left, but you know better than to turn around and check for the source.

The first months you were terrified of walking along the quiet paths alone, jerking at every crack or rustle, but with time you learned that there's many a critter living in the hedges or tall trees growing everywhere on the large graveyard.

Birds, squirrels, bunnies, one or the other stray cat and more than a few moles call the graveyard their home and none of them are very threatening.

You keep walking, feet dragging across the path, fallen leaves crunching under the soles of our thick boots. After about five minutes you near the gate and pass it swiftly, stepping out into the street and leaving the eerie quiet of the graveyard behind.

-

“Guys!” Georgie screeches, wild curls bouncing around her round face as she hops over to the small group of girls standing outside their lecture hall.

The girls turn around to watch their classmate approach. She's holding a piece of paper in one hand, the other is waving at them excitedly. When she stops before them, she's a little out of breath.

“Look what I found! Now we finally have plans for Halloween!” the tall girl exclaims triumphantly and waves the paper in front of their faces. Nika, a short blonde, lets out an irritated huff and snatches the fluttering piece of paper from her friend's hand.

“Gimme that,” she says gruffly, annoyed at Georgie's excitable demeanour. She straightens the slightly crumpled piece of paper out – a flyer – and scans the text printed on the colourful background, obviously Halloween themed.

“A haunted house, really?” Nika snorts and hands the flyer back to Georgie. The tall girl pouts at the other's unenthusiastic response and holds the paper to her chest.

“What? None of you have come up with any good suggestions yet and we're not spending Halloween on Hailee's couch watching horror movies again,” Georgie argues, handing the paper off to Jasmine who is standing next to her.

“Where did you find this, Gigi? I don't think I've heard anyone else talking about this event,” the brunette asks, passing the flyer on to Hailee as you watch on, brows raised and growing increasingly curious about what it says on the flyer.

“The flyer looks real enough, there's even a date on it... Is there a prize or something for doing this? Or is that just one of these haunted houses someone decorated that you can walk through to get spooked?” Hailee ponders, turning the paper over, but finding the back blank.

“I don't know, it doesn't say on the flyer. But whatever it is, I'm sure it beats staying at home and doing nothing. We should go out a little, have fun,” the curly-haired girl shrugs.

“It says to brings warm clothes, snacks and something to sit on,” you state, brows pinching in confusion at the instructions.

“Oh, yeah. Read at the bottom. You're only allowed to go in one at a time. The others have to wait outside. I doubt you guys wanna stand in the cold and freeze your but off. Hence the warm clothes, snacks and something to rest on,” Georgie explains.

You skip to the bottom and read the words confirming what Georgie said. You hum and scan the flyer for the address. When you see it, you make a sound at the back of your throat.

“What is it?” Nika asks, leaning forward to look at the flyer again.

“I know where this is. It's next to the graveyard. The property borders on one side of it, I can see it from where I usually sit. Well, the part of it that peeks over the old fence anyway. That place is old as hell though. I don't know if it's safe to walk around there,” you note.

“If it wasn't safe, then I doubt someone would offer a haunted house tour. For free, too! I guess that means it might not be the most high-quality experience, but we can still have fun,” Georgie says.

“Mh, I suppose so,” Jasmine agrees with a shrug. “I don't have anything better to do anyway. Not planning on going to any of the campus parties, they get out of hand way too quickly. I don't like the rowdy atmosphere.”

“True. We could bring food and drinks. I have an insulated picnic blanket and with a few pillows we could set up camp in front of the house,” Hailee pipes up.

“I have a portable space heater! Don't want to freeze my ass off waiting outside,” Nika adds, still a little reluctant. She doesn't seem too convinced, but if the rest of the group is going to join in on this little venture, she won't say no.

“I can bring my portable speaker. Some music can never hurt,” Georgie says, a wide grin spreading on her face as her friends come around to her idea.

You sigh, still not too sure about this endeavour. The porperty was old, falling apart. And now apparently also 'haunted'.

“Come ooon, don't leave us hanging,” Georgie whines you name. She must've seen undecided expression on your face.

With a roll of your eyes you hand the paper back to her and grumble your agreement.

“Yay! Okay, okay, we'll plan this out later in the group chat yeah? I can make a list of things we need and everyone throws in what they can bring,” the tall girls says, stuffing the flyer back into her bag, already fully entering her planning mode.

You agree together with the other girls, the idea slowly sinking in. You suppose hanging out with your friends is better than holing away in your room to study or binge-watch whatever series catches your attention.

Even if the haunted house turns out to be a fluke, you still have music, food, drinks and your friends. That alone is more than enough for a good time. You'd enjoy it. Getting out of the house will be good for you.

-

The sky is already dark when you arrive. The soft glow of the few interspersed street lights do little to brighten the dark, eerie street.

The graveyard is located in a quieter area of the city, most houses in the close vicinity run down and abadnoned. No one wants to live anywhere near where the dead are buried.

You walk along the asphalt of the sidewalk, the old path uneven with many cracks in it where the roots of old trees broke through or an especially persistent weed fought its way to the surface.

You can already see your friends, hear them too, when you near the property. They already set up camp, so to say, a few lanterns and the space heater placed around the big blanket that sits in the middle of the overgrown lawn that sprawls in front of the wooden porch at the front of the house.

Georgie calls out your name when she sees you entering through the iron-wrought gate, the old thing creaking in its hinges when you push it open with a huff.

“Hey! You're the last. We've already got everything set up. Come one,” the curly-haired girl says cheerily, patting the free space on the blanket next to her.

You walk over and greet the others before plopping down on the blanket with a groan. Your thick puffer jacket swishes and bunches out around your middle when you sit down, the collar moving higher with the shift. You tilt your chin up and adjust the jacket so it doesn't cover half your face.

“That jacket really isn't flattering,” Nika points out with a half smile, not necessarily mean-spirited, but rather honest in an unfiltered way.

You roll your eyes and try to smooth down the puffed out front with little success. You instinctively try to suck in your stomach and straighten your back, but it doesn't change your appearance much.

“Don't be mean, Nika,” Jasmine interjects, sending you an apologetic smile while elbowing the blonde next to her. “Everyone looks a little round in these things, not only...”

Jasmine trails off, but you still hear the unspoken words floating in the air.

'Not only fat people'

Well, she probably would've phrased it a little more flowery, saying something along the lines of solidly build, chunky, curvy, soft, chubby or plump. Basically anything to avoid the word 'fat'.

You don't mind much. People need to get over the stigma that is connected to the word and you know very well you have a few extra pounds to you.

Most of the time it doesn't bother you too much, having taken the time to try your best and grow comfortable with your body the way it is instead of trying to conform to the propaganda society throws at you every waking hour.

But in moments like this, when someone points out your extra bits so blatantly, the old self-consciousness and shame come crawling back out of the hole you buried them in.

“It keeps me warm and it's comfortable,” you say, shrugging non-commitedly and hoping to move on from the topic before more old demons are stirred up inside you.

“That's what matters, practicality over looks,” Hailee says and points up at her knitted cap. It's green and has two eyes attached to it so the hat resembles a frog. You recall her telling you her grandma had knitted it for her when she was a child. It may be quirky, but it it's warm and comfortable.

“True, true,” Georgie says dimissively and then continues talking. “Anyway, now that we're all here, I suggest one of us should take the lead and get that haunted house experience.” She giggles gleefully, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she eyes her friends.

“The first is always the most exciting! The rest of us can can get started on the drinks and plating up the snacks. I'm starving,” Hailee adds, her green eyes glancing over to the pile of both home-made and bought snacks.

“Well, I guess that means you're going first,” Nika teases and nods at Hailee.

“What? Why me? I wanna eat first,” the girl whines. Nika snorts.

“You're the one who just said the first is the most exciting,” she retorts and then chuckles when she sees Hailee stick out her tongue.

“I don't wanna go first, I'm a crybaby. I need someone to tell me what's happening first or I'll pee my pants and die from a heartattack,” Jasmine declares dramatically, causing the rest of the girls to let out a mix of groans and laughter.

“It's just an old house, I doubt whoever organised what's inside put a lot of effort in,” you say and look up at the house looming over your group.

The windows are boarded up, a few of the shutters hanging only off of one hinge. The light blue paint once covering the wooden fassade is flaking off and the porch is almost overrun by wild growing weeds.

It is intimidating in a way, the sheer size of the slowly rotting building and the desolate windows that look like black maws giving it the typical horror movie feel.

“I don't even know if we're really allowed to be here. Maybe this belongs to someone. We could get in trouble for tresspassing,” you add, the thought only now popping into your head, rousing a whole new collection of concerns that start swirling in your head.

“I doubt it belongs to anyone. There aren't any signs and there was no indicator that said to stay away. The gate wasn't looked either,” Georgie says. “I mean, look at this place. I'm sure no one is missing it or would mind a couple of girls having a good time.”

She gestures at their surroundings and the other girls look around, mumbling their agreement.

You look around, too, taking in the wooden fence to your right. You know the graveyard is behind it. The rest of the property is surrounded by an old wire fence that has more holes than one could count. There is an old wooden shed towards the back of the garden on the left side of the house. The door is boarded up and the roof has a hole in it.

You let your gaze drift farther. Beyond the wire fence is a beaten path that leads past the property you and your friends reside on. You can barely make out a crumbling brick building on the other side of the path, this neighbouring building not looking any better than the one you are supposed to set foot in.

“I guess,” you agree reluctantly and shrug. Georgie rolls her eyes.

“I think you should go first, spoilsport. You can see for yourself there's nothing bad going on. Just a haunted house,” Georgie says and wiggles her eyebrows at you. You cross your arms.

“Why don't you go first?” you challenge, but Georgie just cackles and wags her finger at you.

“No, no, my friend. You're not getting out of that one. Come up, get your ass up,” she orders, digging her elbow into your side. You hiss and pull away.

“Fine, whatever,” you huff and heave yourself to your feel. Smoothing down your jacket, you make sure your phone is still in the pocket and straighten up fully. “If I die because some rotten floorboards give away under me, you're paying for my funeral.”

The girls laugh and you feel your lips twitch against your will.

“Just step lightly, you klutz. You're not that heavy,” Jasmine jokes and the small smile you wear quickly turns tense.

“Yeah, I guess not.”

There's a short moment of silence before Hailee pipes up.

“Oh! We should all take a selfie when we're inside. An additional challenge of sorts. Whoever gets the best picture in the creepiest setting wins!”

“Great idea, Hailee,” Georgie agrees and then turns to you. “Go on, we'll be waiting for you. You better get a good picture, too. I wanna make a collage with them so we never forget today.”

She shoos you away and you turn on your heel, waving over your shoulder as you walk towards the house. You almost prefer the house over your friends at the moment. They are nice enough, but some remarks are just needlessly rude. They just never seem to see it the way you do, telling you it was a joke or that you're overreacting.

“Get your crap together, this night is supposed to be fun,” you scold yourself and ascend the rickety stairs of the porch. When you approach the door, you see the same flyer Georgie showed the group a couple of days ago pinned to the brittle wood.

Pushing away any further hesitancy, you push down the handle and open the door. You can hear the girls shouting behind you, wishing you good luck.

You don't turn around, just step forward and let the door slowly swing back into place with a disturbing creak that echoes in the old house.

You take a deep breath and slowly walk forward, looking for any kind of clue that might tell you in which direction to go first. But there's nothing, or at least you don't see anything, so you set off towards the closest room.

It turns out to be a living room. The furniture is old, upholstery rotting and wood hollow from time. The floorboards groan under your feet, scattered paper and debris crunching under your boots. A stiff breeze rattles the windows and the entire house groans eerily.

You swallow hardly. There's nothing actually scary going on yet, no jumpscares or mysterious silhouettes in corners. And still, your fear mounts with every passing minute.

You don't like this anymore and you find yourself longing for some company. Going in alone was stupid. You should've just ignored the rule and went in teams.

Because now you are all allone in an old, creepy house, the rotten smell of decaying wood in the air and your mind playing tricks on you by making every shadow or foreign form out to be a creature waiting to bring your demise.

Whirling around, you quickly walk back out of the living room and enter the hallway you came from. Maybe you should just go back outside and pretend to having finsihed the tour.

You shake your head. They wouldn't buy it, you've barely been in here for five minutes.

As you stand and ponder over your options, still wincing at every unexpected sound or moving shadow, a flicker at the edge of your vision catches your attention.

You pivot and face the set of stairs leading to the first floor. There it is. A weak flicker dances across the wall at the end of the stairs. It's warm and unsteady, reminding you of a candle.

Your gaze sweeps along the other doors that lead away from the hallway and into more unknown rooms, then back to the flicker upstairs.

“Let's just get this over with,” you whisper to yourself, the sound of your voice loud and at odds with the symphony of creaks, groans and clattering that echoes through the house.

You head towards the stairs and start climbing them, one hand firmly on the rail should you slip or the wood give away. If you go upstairs now you'll be done quicker. You'll just have a quick look around, try to find a location for the picture and then leave. Easy peasy.

The stairs grown under your weight and you reach up to wipe your damp forehead, the skin wet from fear and worry. This whole haunted house thing is putting you through the ringer in a way you couldn't have antcipated.

Grumbling at your own silliness, you finally reach the top of the stairs. The light is brighter now and you look down both sides of the hallway. The flickering is coming from your left so you head in that direction, your heart pounding in your chest and a cold sweat breaking out along your back and under your pits.

'Maybe it's just some homeless people,' you think, your sweaty hands clutching at the phone you retrieved from your pocket once you reached the top of the stairs.

'Or a trick from the person who arranged this... It's nothing scary, nothing real. Stay calm.'

Tiptoeing towards the source of the light – a slightly ajar door at the end of the corridor – you try to measure your breaths. Every loud creak your steps cause make you wince.

“This is so stupid,” you breathe out. “Get your shit together.”

The door is right in front of you now and you take a few breaths, hyping yourself up and gathering enough courage to push the door open.

The wooden door moves ever so slightly under the gentle push of your fingertips and to your relief this particular door doesn't screech noisily. In fact, it glides open rather smoothly.

You peek around the wood, hands holding your phone to hard you're almost afraid the screen is gonna crack.

What you see is not at all what you expected.

The room, unlike every other part of the house you saw, is clean. There's no debris or paper littering the floor and the furniture looks old, but well kept. Like someone made the effort to patch it up and keep it in shape so it doesn't rot away like the rest of the furniture in the house.

“What the hell,” you mutter, pushing the door all the way open and straightening up.

A bed comes into view. The metal frame is a little rusty, but the mattress and everything on it looks new. This room lookes like someone's been living in it and while the house's dilaptidation couldn't be hidden entirely, it still looks decent.

The next strange thing are the candles lit everwhere, the source of the flickering you saw from downstairs. They are scattered across the floor around the bed, one candle is placed on each bedside table and a few more are placed on the other surfaces in the room.

Your eyes wander over the bizarre scene and you briefly throw a glance over your shoulder before stepping inside the room.

A window comes into view, embedded into the wall to your left. In front of it stands a wooden chair, a thing cushion placed on the seat. It's placed in a way to makes it seem like whoever put it there sat down on it to look outside. On the window sill sits a pair of binoculars.

Curious, but no less scared, you appraoch the chair and stand behind it to see what view would warrant the binoculars. You bend down a little and peer through the window and out into the dark.

It's hard to see outside, what with the candles inside the room reflecting off the window and the darkness of the night. Fortunately, the moon decided to shine in all it's glory that night, chasing away some of the impenetrable darkness.

“What...” you mumble, eyes honing in on the view.

The window faces the graveyard. It takes you a moment to realise it and when you do, you glance away from the view to look at the binoculars sitting on the sill. What on earth would a person be watching on a graveyard?

You carefully reach for the binoculars, another glance over your shoulder ensuring your solitude before you pick them up. As soon as you lift them from their place, you freeze.

Underneath the pair of clunky binoculars sits a sketch pad. The drawing on the first page is dark, drawn with coal by the looks of it. But that isn't what makes you halt your actions. It's the motive that chills you to the bone.

It's you, sitting on the bench by your parents' grave with a book in hand, your backpack sitting by your feet.

Dropping the binoculars, you hastily scurry away from the window. Your heartbeat picks up again, the organ thundering inside your chest, beating against your ribs frantically.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” you whisper, your sweaty fingers losing their grip on your phone. It clatters to the floor.

“Do you like it?”

You choke on a scream and jump. You heave out a cough and clumsily whirl around, feet twisting beneath you and making you stumble.

“Careful, sweetheart. You're gonna hurt yourself.”

A man steps past the threshold, his frame filling out the doorway as he ducks through and comes closer.

You want to scream, but you're still coughing up your spit, one hand pressed to you heaving chest as you back away from the approaching man.

His features are lit by the flickering candles, his huge body throwing an even bigger shadow against the wall. He raises his hands towards you and you finally manage to choke out a croaky screech.

“Hey, hey! That's not the reaction I was expecting, sweetheart,” the man scolds.

You try to make a run for it, your shaky legs compelling you to run, hide, get away from whoever this man, this stalker is.

Your efforts are quickly put to an end. The hulking giant of a man flings a thick arm out and catches you around the middle, yanking you back and cutting off your escape route.

You start to thrash immediately, your mouth opening to let out another scream. But before the sound can leave your lips and alert your waiting friends, the man's big hand clamps over your lips, sucessfully muffling the sound behind his huge palm.

Using his grip on both your face and midsection, he hauls your wriggling body against his, your back pressed to his broad chest. He meanly digs fingers into your face and you whimper, whipping your head side to side to try and dislodge his painful grip.

“I suggest you calm down, sweetheart. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Can't have you ruining it with your hysterics,” the growls lowly, the sound of his voice rumbling against your back.

You shake helplessly in his arms, tears of pure terror welling in your eyes as you keep thrashing in this stranger's hold. Your breath comes in choppy pants your panic threatens to swallow you hole and you kick your legs out uselessly.

In a short moment of clarity, you lift your legs and drop your entire weight down, hoping to dislodge the tight grip the stranger has on you, but he doesn't budge. Not as much as a grunt comes from him as you let your limp body hang from his arms.

He lets out a chuckle, dark and condescending, and squeezes your middle until you wheeze.

“You gotta try a little harder than that if you want to break my hold. Not that you could, but I suppose it is a valiant effort,” he says, a mocking tone to his voice. His hold loosens around you and you suck in a deep breath now that you ribs are no longer constricted by his iron grip.

“It's not a fair fight, you see,” he continues, shifting his grip from your middle to swiftly gather your wrists in one big hand, bending your arms and holding them still against your chest. “I could hold you down with two of my fingers and you wouldn't be able to get away.”

He twists your around, his hand still holding yours captive against your chest, but his other leaves your mouth in favour of framing your vulnerable neck.

You owlishly blink up at him, your muscles trembling with the adrenaline cursing through them, tears gathering along the rim of your eyes. Your jaw is clenched shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Such a scared little bunny,” the man coos, his thumb stroking along the soft skin of your throat. “This isn't quite how I imagined this to go, but we'll make the best of it, hm?”

“What do you want from me?” you burst out, your jaw unclenching long enough to let the question snap out. You tug at your hands and try to take a step back, but the hand at your throat tightens to keep you in place and you sputter, quick to stop your movement.

“It's not about what I want from you, but what I can give you, bunny girl,” he says, shifting his stance slightly. The flames of a few candles close to you light up his face for the first time since he stepped foot inside this room and you see the sick smile stretching his lips behind the thick beard covering the lower half of his face.

Your eyes jump over his features, taking in the beard, the shape of his jaw, his nose and his eyes... His eyes, dark with wide-blown pupils that only leave a sliver of his irises visible. You can't make out their colour in the dim light, but you still recognise him.

A whole new kind of terror sweeps through you and you unwittingly start to pull at your wrists, fighting to escape his grip, his surprisingly strong grip. Not so surprising anymore now.

“Oh, the penny has dropped,” the man snickers, flicking his head to the side briefly to shake a strand of his grown out hair away from his eyes. It used to be short. And his face was always shaven clean.

“You see, being on the run is quite the tiresome task, sweetheart. Moving from one location to the other, avoiding the authorities, hiding in the shadows. It gets lonely, you know.”

He yanks on your arms and tightens his grip on your throat. He walks you towards the bed, pushing until you sink down on it, legs dangling over the side.

“I've been hiding out here for a while now. Months, to be more specific. It's bleak, boring. But I found something to entertain me. A little bunny that hops by my window every day and sits pretty just for my eyes to see.”

He's been watching you. America's hero, fallen from grace and now off the deep end too, has been stalking you, eyes following you when you sat unsuspectingly, visiting your passed parents, seeking out their lost affection, their comforting presence.

You feel sick, the terror knotting in your stomach as you struggle to breathe through the tight grip Steve Rogers has on your throat.

It really isn't a fair faight. He could snap your neck without blinking and you can't even get him to let go of your hands. Hands that he is holding with only one of his.

“You're lonely, too. So alone, no family left now that mommy and daddy are gone. But you're a good daughter, still. Visiting them, taking care of their grave. So good with your hands, sweetheart. The grave looks beautiful with those plants you picked out,” the Soldier croons, looking down at you with an adoring expression that makes you heart drop somewhere in the vicinity of your knees. He really is mad.

“Don't- Don't talk about my parents you freak,” you manage to squeak, a wheezing sound what with your limited ability to breathe.

“Mind your manners, bunny. I don't appreciate being cursed at. I made all this for you, as a surprise. To make our first time special,” Steve grits out, giving you a shove that sends you bouncing against the mattress.

His hands are finally off your body and you use the opportunity to crawl away from him, huddling on the other side of the mattress while catching your breath. Your throat throbs from his harsh grip.

Steve walks over to the door and closes it, then he turns around to face the bed.

“You need me, sweetheart. You just don't know it yet. I can give you everything you need, everything you lost. I lost a lot of things too. We can be good for each other,” he explains, his face shockingly genuine.

You can't believe what you're hearing. This man is bonkers. He lost his mind. You don't even know him outside his famous Soldier persona. He's a wanted war criminal. And yet here he stands, claiming to know you, speaking about whatever delusion he's crafted in that sick head of his.

'A wanted war criminal that has set his sights on me. Just my luck.'

“Don't look at me like that. I'm not gonna hurt you,” Steve declares and then strides over towards the bed. As he moves closer, he smoothly strips off the thick sweater he's wearing, then the black tank top underneath.

You just stare, frozen in shock. Your mind is reeling, muscles locked in a cowering position.

His thick, muscular chest comes into view, a layer of dark hair covering the taut muscle. Imaptiently toeing off his boots, Steve leans on the bed. Once they're off, he fully climbs onto the mattress, the soft material dipping beneath his weight and jostling you from your stupor.

“No!” you shout and launch off the bed, but not fast enough. A strong hand latches around your ankle, dragging your upper body back up on the back and towards him.

“No, no, no! Let me go, HE-”

A harsh slap whips your head to the side. Your ears ring with the force of it, the ceiling swimming before your eyes for a solid thirty seconds before you can focus enough to work through what just happened.

Steve is straddling your thighs, his teeth bared when he reaches the collar of your puffer jacket and rents the fabric down the middle, busting the zipper and tearing the dark material.

You cry out again. The side of your face throbs and Steve's rough handling hurts your arms, but you can't do much to deter him as he rips the jacket down your arms and then pulls it out from under you to discard it on the floor. Your pullover suffers the same fate, your bra swiftly following suit.

You start to cry, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you. Shaky arms try to cover your exposed chest, but the blonde man above you growls, slapping the weak limbs to the side and reaching out to cup the soft flesh in his calloused hands.

“So pretty, bunny,” he groans, kneading your chest and stroking your nipples. The sensitive peaks pebble in the cold air and from his incessant ministrations.

“Stop, stop, please,” you exclaim tearily, hands hitting at his arms and shoulders, your legs kicking aimlessly behind him.

“You'll be crying for me to touch you soon enough,” Steve says gruffly and rises from his perch on your thighs to flip you onto your stomach. He turns around, settling his weight on your lower back until you squeal in pain.

His hands reach for your jeans and he begins to roughly pull them down, taking your panties with them as he shoves them over the curve of your ass, the fabric scratching you roughly in the process. He wrestles your shoes off and in a matter of seconds you're left completely bare beneath his strong body.

Steve's hands crawl across the backs of your thighs, easily dodging you swinging calves, and then moves up to slap your ass, a delighted grunt coming from him when he watches your flesh jiggle.

“What a nice piece of ass. Love me a girl with some extra on her,” he says, greedily squeezing you bum and thighs.

You grimace at his words, a sob lodging in your throat. Your tears overflow as you're groped and prodded like a piece of meat.

“Please, please, let me go,” you quaver, but your pleas fall on deaf ears. Steve is intent on getting from you what he wants and there's no stopping him.

You let out a weak shout when he finally lifts himself off you back and turns you back around to face him. He's swift to push you further onto the bed and away from the edge of the mattress.

Your limbs start to flail, but he wrestles his way between your legs before you have a real chance to get away.

“Not going anywhere, sweet girl. You're mine,” the former hero rasps. He rests a hand next to your head, partially leaning his weight on you as his other reaches down to pull off his own pants and underwear. He kicks both off the bed, all the while pinning you down with just his torso.

You can feel the hot length of him touching your chilled skin. Every inch of his bare body touching yours sends a wretched shiver through you. You want to throw up, scream, cry. And most of all do you want him off of you. You don't want any part of him touching you, you don't want him looking at you, breathing in your face and cooing false promises. You want none of it.

In a last valaint effort you gather all your strength and start to thrash underneath him. You pull your legs up to your chest and kick out, hitting him on the shoulder before he can duck out of the way.

He raises one arm to shield his face and you take the opening, rolling to the side where his arm is no longer caging you in.

A feral growl rips through the burly man's chest as you slip off the bed. He lifts himself to his knees and lauches forward, just catching you elbow in his grip and yanking harshly.

You exclaim and stumble backwards, thrown off-kilter by the sudden pull. Steve doesn't hesitate to use your unsteady stance and brings you back towards the bed, his long arms wrapping securely around your body and dragging you onto the mattress.

“You'll learn to love it, you'll see. This is what you need!” the blond man barks, frustration bleeding into his features at your ongoing struggle.

Discarding any caution or gentleness, Steve wrestles you onto your side and spoons you from behind. His hard body molds against you back, one of his strong legs shoving between yours. He claps one hand over your mouth, muffling your protests. His other arm wraps around your middle, leaving you completely immobilised.

The only sounds audible in the candle-lit room are your heavy breaths and muffled whimpers. Tears still leak out of your eyes, drawing wet paths over your hot face.

“Hush, bunny. You'll enjoy this just as much as I will,” Steve promises gravelly. The arm around your middle shifts, calloused fingers finding your breasts. He pinches and strokes, giving the flesh the occasional squeeze as he explores you to his hearts content.

“You're perfect,” he grumbles, his lips seeking out your bared throat and pressing a chain of wet, prickly kisses to the sensitive skin.

You can do nothing but endure his touch, muscles still trembling but not fighting. You know it's no use. He's too strong, too big and fast. You'll never get away. If you let him, maybe he won't hurt you.

A tingle stirs deep in your belly when Steve gropes down your body, appreciatively squeezing every soft roll and dip along your side before slipping close to your core.

You tense, a loud whimper vibrating against the palm across you mouth. Steve just shushes you and shifts the leg he has lodged between yours, lifting it to open you up to him. Your soft thigh tenses against his firm, sinewy one, trying to force it back down to hide your most intimate parts from him, but it is no use. He's stronger than you.

“No hiding, bunny,” the Soldier grumbles, nipping your throat and making you squeak at the pain.

His hand reaches the curls on your mound, fingers continuing to dip lower until he reaches the petals of your sex. His middle finger seeks out your bundle of nerves with expert precision, lightly pressing on it and chuckling when you twitch against him.

He toys with the botton for a few moments before sliding lower, using his fingers to part your sticky lips and circle your entrance.

You're ashamed at the wetness gathered between your legs. It's not much, but it's there and you cringe at the feeling of the man's fingers dipping into it teasingly. A sad croak fights its way past your lips and Steve pats your pussy playfully, telling you not to be embarassed. It only heightens your shame.

“Your body knows what it needs, sweetheart. Getting slick for me, what a sweet pussy,” he sighs, the earlier tension gone from his voice.

You groan when Steve plunges a finger past your entrance without a warning, wriggling the thick digit around and pulling it out just to add a second one. He fucks you with his fingers, his thumb teasing your clit as he draws out your unwanted pleasure.

The tingle in your belly sparks into a flame and you helplessly wriggle in Steve's arms as the pleasure forced upon you mounts with every stroke of his fingers against you walls.

Small, unwanted sounds spill from you, little pants and whines sounding past the barrier of Steve's hand.

When the man crooks his fingers, shifting your legs further apart before plunging the digits back into your increasingly wet cunt, your back arches with a  squeal. Steve laughs gravelly and does it again, keeping up the motion of his hand.

You moan, tears squeezing past your tightly shut eyes as the wicked man massages your g-spot with unrelenting fingers. The action has you senseless. No one but you has ever managed to find this little place, much less work it with such precision.

Your body tenses, legs thrashing and arms aimlessly waving around while the pleasure mounts dangerously fast, winding your muscles tighter and tighter until you're ready to snap.

Steve rescinds the hand from your mouth, damp palm touching your hand when he gathers the flapping limb in his and intertwines your fingers in a sick gesture of intimacy. But the mounting pleasure inside you has you too distracted to fight it, so you let him hold your hand, your other one clinging to the duvet that is crumpled beneath your bodies.

“Come on, cum for me. I know you want to, your little pussy is squeezing my fingers,” Steve husks, chuckling at your senseless whines and gasps.

His thumb presses against your throbbing clit and with a few more strokes of his fingers, you fall apart.

“Yes! That's it, good girl, keep going,” Steve praises throatily, his hips bucking slightly against you lower back as you tremble in his arms, overcome by the most intense orgasm of your life.

It washes over you in waves and you're left boneless by the time the last of them passes over you. Your chest heaves, sweat dotting your brow.

Your mind is still reeling from the sensations you just experienced at the hands of this madman and you can do nothing but lie there limply when Steve shuffles away from you. You flop onto your back, your trembling thighs pressing together.

They don't stay like that for long, the blond's big hands prying them apart effortlessly. Not that you put up much of a fight.

He kneels between your legs and his hand reaches down to stroke his flushed and angry looking length, a few drops of precum bubbling from the tip.

He groans needily and adjusts his position, lining himself up to your glistening, puffy pussy.

You mewl pathetically, legs kicking weakly at either side of his hips when you feel the head of his cock nudging your folds apart.

“No...” you beg quietly, hands coming up to push at him. Steve wordlessly gathers your wrists in one hand and holds them against his chest. Your palm rests flat against his firm muscle and he leans over you just a bit, his free hand grabbing your thigh just above your knee and opening you up to his view.

He looks at your face when he tilts his hips and slides inside just a bit, marvelling at the scrunched up expression you wear.

He's big and the stretch burns despite his slow pace.

You whine low in your throat, the fingers resting against Steve's chest pushing at him, nails digging into his skin. He hisses at the sting but keeps pressing on.

“It hurts, please. You won't fit,” you cry out at last, hips twisting from side to side to dislodge him. Steve only tsks at your squirming and pulls back a little just to press forward again, inserting another inch into your spasming pussy.

“I'll fit, bunny. Don't you worry,” he grunts, letting go of your thigh to wipe away the tears rolling down your temples.

You grimace when he slides in even deeper, carving out a space for himself in your body, molding you to his shape. When Steve turns his hand to cup your face, you find yourself leaning into it, seeking comfort from the pain, the fear. Too bad that he's the source of it.

With a last jerk of his hips, Steve's entire length disappears into your straining pussy and you exclaim when you feel his hips resting against yours. He lets go of your hands and moves to grab both your legs, pressing them apart and up.

You feel horribly exposed to his hungry gaze, cringing at the way he stares between your legs when he pulls back and pushes back into you.

Every move of his hips forces a strangled sound from you, your chest bouncing with his still rather tame thrusts. He's savouring it, every push and pull through your quivering flesh.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Steve grunts, his groans and pants mingling with your squeaks and wheezes. His face is flushed, plump bottom lip caught between his white teeth.

He lets go of your legs after a few minutes of measured thrusting, dropping his upper body over yours. His cock slides out of you when he shifts and you whimper, your thighs immediately moving to close. But Steve's thick waist is in the way, so you endure the throbbing that pulses between your legs.

Steve settles above you, his hips cradled between your legs, strong arms to either side of your head. He briefly shifts his weight to reach down and line himself up again before pushing back inside with a throaty groan.

“Yes... what a good bunny you are, taking me so well,” he moans, his hot breath washing over your face. His hips move, finding a new rhythm and a new angle, one that has you seeing starts.

“Oh, oh... hngh,” you squeal out, hands reaching up to clutch at Steve's shoulders. “Fuck, oh.”

The man above you grunts his approval, keeping up his motion to hit your spot again and again, the tip of his erection sliding across with with every retreat and advance.

“There you go, doesn't that feel good? I told you I would make you feel good,” he growls, speeding up his thrusts and giving you no respite.

You babble, hands slipping along the Soldier's arms, unable to hold on to anything for long while he fucks you senseless with his sharp, angled thrusts. The fire in your belly ignites again, burning brighter with every stroke.

“Mh, fuck you're gonna make me cum,” Steve pants. His face is scrunched up, mouth hanging open as he revels in the feel of your wet, hot pussy clenching around him.

He leans to the side and reaches down, pressing his fingers along your slipper cunt, seeking out your clit and rubbing it earnestly.

You keen, back arching off the bed. It doesn't take more than a few rubs to make you come, your clit pulsing under his fingerpads as he keeps hammering away at your g-spot.

You let out a loud, gravelly moan, the sound quickly breaking off into a high-pitched whine when your pleasure peaks, a pressure unlike any you've felt before building in your belly and releasing with one last well-placed thrust.

You squirt all over Steve's cock, his pelvis and yours drenched in your cum as you shake pathetically underneath him, you hands slapping the mattress.

“Good fucking girl,” Steve growls, his eyes rolling back in his head when he feels you squirt over him, your walls bearing down on him as you tremble through your orgasm. “Fuck, you're perfect.”

He rescinds his hand from your overstimulated clit and drops down to his underarms above you, his hips bucking desperately against you.

You vaguely feel Steve's cock throb and twitch inside, followed by a primal groan above you.

The big man shakes with the force of his orgasm, unfiltered sounds rumbling from him as he paints your insides with his seed, pulse after pulse of it surging into you.

You moan weakly at the warm sensation of his spend, too tired and fucked out to listen to the alarm bells going off in the back your head at his actions.

Once Steve stops shaking, he lifts his sweaty face and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You may have lost your family, but we can make a new one together. You will never be alone again, sweetheart. Neither of us will be.”

Your eyes snap open, your sluggish thoughts clearing in seconds as you stare up at the former hero, pinned beneath his thick body after he took you against your will and came inside you without any form of protection.

“You'll make a good mother.”

His eyes meet your wide ones, a wicked smirk curling his mouth.

“No,” you breathe out, hands lifting and pushing at his chest, body squirming desperately to dislodge his cock still nestled inside you.

“Yes,” Steve hisses, snapping his hips against yours and wriggling them from left to right, letting you feel every inch of his rapidly hardening length. He does it again, cutting off the sob rattling in your chest and replacing it with a choked moan.

His hands wipe at your tears and he coos at you, shushing your sad, terrified sobs as he keeps working his hips against yours.

“You'll love it, trust me. I will take such good care of you.”

...

Ooooop, that was quite the wild ride 😆 I wrote this monster in one sitting and I did not proofread a single sentence. I cannot bring myself to care. Y’all are supposed to enjoy the story, not my immaculate spelling, lol 😳 (it’s not immaculate, it really isnt. And don’t get me started on punctuation...)

Anyhow, let me know what you think! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! 🖤

[bandrlodge]

Out of the Shadows: Title Drabble

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, dom/sub vibes, rough sex

Word count: 349

Nomad Steve x Plus size!Enhanced!Reader

She has her arms braced against the bar. The skirt on her sundress is pulled half over one perfect asscheek. His handprint was still angry and swollen. His palms still itched with the need to pull her thick fucking legs apart and smack on her ass until she couldn't sit properly felt a week. Or more. He hadn't decided yet.

Y/N cried out, fingers digging into marble countertop. He could hear the stone breaking even now. She thought he didn't know. That he didn't catch the small things that she did that a normal woman couldn't. Not without significant training. She had none.

"Come on, my strong girl. Fucking clench that little cunt for me. Use those muscles for something fucking useful. Stop breaking your goddamn furnishings." His cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of her and she lost it. Her pussy clamped on his dick like a vice and her body seemed to snap in half almost, her hands crushing through the marble top. Debris shattered around them and he didn't stop fucking her. He canted his hips, fighting the urge to pull her from the top of the rubble.

"Come on, strong girl. Let's see what else I can make you destroy while you cum on my cock. I knew you were special." He gave into that urge finally and pulled her body from the destruction. He kept his cock buried inside of her while he carried her to the couch. He sat, adjusting her legs around him. Steve fisted her hair, bringing her close to him. He worked a finger between swollen, spit soaked lips and hooked it behind her bottom teeth prying her jaw open. His tongue licked the inside of her mouth. And as his tongue touched the very out edge of her top lip he began to speak softly,

"Fucking bounce, girl. You can't break me. And now that I know for sure I can't break you...I'm gonna ruin your goddamn life. You won't be able to even punch through something without thinking about how fucking hot it makes me for you. Come on baby, show me. Show me how strong you are."

A/N : Submitted for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor title challenge!!

Thank you for reading!

[royalwriteroftheuniverse]

Another Morning with Stevie

"Steve?" ( p.s. fluff warning 18+ just incase)

"Mmm" there was a humming near my ear, The likes of which put a smile on my lips. At the same time at the sound my skin was vibrating and it was comforting beyond belief. It was like I could breathe out everything and not even worry about having to breathe out any stress or anxiety for the rest of my life.

But I already knew he was there. The warmth of another body was so nice and comforting,

"Hi"

"Hi"

He looked so happy.

"What's got you all smiley this morning?"

"Waking up to the girl of my dreams in my arms. Getting to stay here as long as we care to and cuddle."

"No 20 minutes 50 mile run?"

"No and it's not 50 miles." He chuckles and rolled on to of me using his legs/knees to support his weight.

"I don't care. All I know is it takes you away from me. " I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Well we don't have to worry about that anymore now do we?" His bright blue eyes showed nothing but happiness.

Well you know what we do have worry about?

What? His head straightened and his face stilled and turned serious.

"What?"

"Me being cold."

His serious face turned to worry

"You want a blanket"

"No I don't want you to move one muscle."

"Yes ma'am"

He kissed me.

Tag list

@nana1000night

No publishing or reposting but rebloging and comments welcom

[ilovefandoms102]

Strangers to Lovers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Reader

Summary: While on the run, Steve stumbles upon the best thing to come into his life…

Note: I’ve been meaning to write this forever and finally after going down a rabbit hole of Steve fics I got some inspo😁 I’m making this a mini series so let me know what you guys think❤️

Warnings🛑: nomad!steve, soft!dark!steve, obsessive/possessive behavior, smut(noncon/dubcon, unprotected sex, oral(fem receiving), overstim, praise kink, beard kink, spanking)

Part 2

Running away to Ireland when you were 18 seemed like a good idea at the time, even saving up enough over the years to become a co-owner of a small hotel in the middle of nowhere…

That’s what you really loved, being in solitude and having nothing to worry about. That was until he came along, possibly the most alive you'd felt in a long time. Steve Rogers entered your life on a stormy night, needing a few rooms for an unknown period of time. He promised to pay extra, so of course you obliged. The first thing he noticed was your lack of Irish accent.

“Not from here,” you explained quickly, the tall, broad man made you uncomfortable with how deeply he stared into your eyes.

“Hmmm, you’re a pretty little thing.” he said with a deep baritone that made you shiver a bit, your stomach churning with a feeling you hadn’t felt in a while.

“Enjoy your stay,” you croaked, handing him the keys.

He took them from your shaking hands, admiring how small they were compared to his. He couldn’t wait to take you apart, spear you open on his cock until you were begging for him to stop. Steve knew as soon as he saw you that he needed to claim you, he’d never been so starstruck, not even with Peggy.

Steve took his leave with the room keys, passing them to the others that were waiting outside. It was just now getting dark, and the others would be heading to bed. This meant, he’d have you alone and at his complete disposal…

Hours later, when most tenants had gone to bed, you felt eery. Like you were being watched...you felt him before you heard the slight creek in the floor, he’d found his way into the back room behind the desk. You whipped around, almost stumbling over your own feet. Fear crawled up your skin, but at the same time, you wanted him to find you. Your mind hadn’t voided thoughts of him since those hours ago when he first entered the building, a connection you couldn’t explain formed between the two of you.

You felt slightly ashamed because you knew this was wrong, red flags were blaring in your mind. This man was a fugitive, wanted by every law force you could think of. His aurora loomed in darkness, doing its best to drag you along, to mingle yours and his together. Fight or flight flickered through your nerves, eyes darting to the only exit that was behind him.

Almost as if he could sense the doubt in your head, he quickly swept you up in his arms. You squeaked at the sudden movement, your hands shaky as they laid on his huge biceps. His nose ran along the column of your neck, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“You smell phenomenal kitten, haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” he grinned, but it wasn’t an innocent grin.

No, he was taking pleasure in your fear. You gulped audibly at this realization, he wanted you to be scared of him. You began struggling in his hold, doing your best to break free.

“Ah ah baby, you can’t run.” he scolded, shoving you against the couch and pinning you under him.

“Please don’t!” you pleaded, pushing at his heavy body.

“No use in struggling doll,” he laughed maliciously.

“Steve don’t, please I-I don’t want this!” you said, but even you didn’t believe your own voice.

“You’ll learn to like it baby, promise I’ll make it good.” he murmured, his hands wandering.

“Oh,” you gasped, whimpering as he rubbed his thumb over your nipple through your shirt.

He ripped your shirt, baring your naked chest to him. You gasped as his eager tongue flicked over each nipple, his mouth sucking marks along your breasts while you squirmed. He ground his hips into yours, the massive tent in his pants rubbed against your clit so deliciously you mewled ashamedly.

Heat flooded your cheeks as he growled against you, the scruff of his beard chafing your skin made your pleasure heighten. You throbbed for him, your hands felt around his suit, but he laughed at your failed and eager attempts to get him undressed. You pouted up at him, embarrassment prickling through you, but Steve simply kissed you before taking off his suit.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his muscular form, he was so beautiful. Steve however, couldn’t take his eyes off of you once he got you naked. Jealousy raged through him, the thought of someone else having you like this made his need to have you even more prudent. You shied away as his stare became too much for you, Steve disapproved greatly of this and showed it by landing a harsh smack to your bare pussy.

The sound that left you was a mix of a scream and a moan, the action was so hot you wanted him to do it until you flooded him with your cum. He smirked as he did it a few more times, the sound of your wetness through the room made the soldier eager for a taste. He pulled his hand back to his mouth, licking the remnants off.

“Do not cover yourself from me, you are absolutely breathtaking kitten, and all mine.” he hummed as his hands felt your dips and curves.

“Please, Steve,” you whined, bucking your hips against his.

“Quiet,” he ordered, pumping himself a few times before nudging your clenching hole.

You keened into him as his cock entered you, the blissful feeling made your body erupt with tingles. The stretch was a bit painful since it had been a while since you’d last had sex, he was huge compared to the last asshole you’d been with.

“So fuckin’ tight honey, but your sweet pussy is sucking me right in.” he hissed as he bottomed out, moaning your name as he felt you clench around him.

He started off with deep, slow thrusts, reaching spots you’d never known were there. The tension was so hot it became slightly overwhelming and embarrassing how close you were to an orgasm and he’d barely began fucking you.

“Relax, you’re so tense. Look at me.” he whispered, your eyes meeting his blue ones.

He smirked at how fucked out you looked, his thrusts speeding up. Your lips parted, sweet whines and moans left as Steve hit your gspot until you came all over him. He kept his eyes on your face the entire time, becoming obsessed with how you looked when you lost it because he made you. Only he could make you feel like this, you belonged to him now.

You whimpered as he pulled out, his cock shiny from your release. He stared at your puffy folds, running his thumb through the slickness. You muttered uncomfortably from how sensitive you were, but Steve didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care.

The next thing you knew, Steve had you sitting up on the couch, legs spread wide with him kneeling in front of you. He propped your gloriously thick thighs on his shoulders and buried his face in your hot center. You gripped his long hair in your hand tight, sobbing at the overstimulation as he worked at bringing you to another high.

“Steve-” you cried, the scruff of his beard rubbing your sensitive skin.

“Doin’ such a good job baby, just a little more.” he smiled.

“No! Please!” you sobbed, pushing against his head.

“I’ll tie you down if I need to, I want you to enjoy this baby, so be good for me.” he ground out, squeezing your thigh hard enough to leave bruises.

His tongue ravished you, like he needed the taste of you to survive. His nose bumped against your clit as he dipped his tongue inside of you, fucking up into that spot he’d hit with his cock not moments earlier. You screamed his name as you let go this time, your legs shaking in his hold. Steve lapped up everything you gave him.

He kept your legs over his shoulders as he leaned up and entered you again with his cock, tilting you just a little so he could hammer his hips against the back of your thighs. You held on for dear life as he fucked you so hard and so fast your mind couldn’t comprehend a single thought other than him.

“I can’t, Stevie please.” you sobbed, nails digging into his arms as you felt so overwhelmed tears began falling.

“Yes you can, be my good girl won’t you baby? Give me one more, I know my kitten can do it.” he encouraged as he kissed your lips hotly.

His praise sent you over the edge once again, his mouth swallowing your cries of pleasure as he came soon after you did. He groaned as his seed emptied in you, moving your shaking legs around his waist as he picked you up. You don’t even remember him taking you to his room, laying you on his bed, or his gentle hands cleaning you.

“Sleep now my love,” he whispered, kissing your temple as your eyes fluttered closed.

It had been two years since that night, even when the team had to leave, your Steve always came back to you. It was really hard never being able to see him for more than a few hours, but you were in love with him and wanted to make things work.

“I have to go back,” he whispered one night after the two of you had finished your nightly romp, his head laying on your chest as you combed your fingers through his hair.

“Back?” you asked confusedly.

“Home,” he muttered, tracing the skin of your hip bone.

“Oh…” you said quietly, unsure of how to react.

“Come with me.” he said, lifting his head up as he met your eyes.

“You know I can’t honey.” you whispered sadly, stroking his beard.

“I need you safe, there’s a threat out there and-and I can’t lose you.” he urged, his voice wobbly.

“I’ll be fine Steve, I’m needed here. You go save the world, and then…then come back to me, and we’ll figure something out. Ok?” you tried to compromise.

You could tell he was conflicted, so you kissed him. Your lips melted and molded against his, tongues prying at the others passionately. Once you were both breathless, he laid his head on yours.

“I’ll come back to you,” he swore.

He left the next day, both of you in tears as you didn’t want to let go of each other. You prayed with everything you had in you that your Steve would come back.

But…Thanos snapped his fingers.

[bluemusickid]

Ooooh Cia, I always ADORE this gif for 2 amazing, juicy reasons. Hmm let's see *cracks fingers*. Thank you for the inspo, my love😭💖

• Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader •

• Warnings: 18+ only, MINORS DNI, smut, rough sex, oral sex (male receiving), slight dom/sub dynamics. •

• A/N: my brain is rusty and dusty and this probably isn't upto the mark, but bear with me. Also idk but I feel like there may be many fics like this out there, so sorry if it feels repetitive. Love ya, xoxo Lexi. •

• Send some blurb/fic requests my way and i'll try to write them! •

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You could sense the tension from miles away, even if he didn't tell you the reason of his ire. He'd been like this since the past few days now, and it was making you anxious. You knew he'd not tell you anything; to make sure that you'd be able to sleep peacefully. Sometimes you wished he didn't care this much, that he would just share what was on his mind. It would save him from a great deal of worry, and stress.

You decided to take matters into your own hands then.

Walking to the gym, you saw him hitting the punching bag, his teeth clenched. Not many could tell, but you were perhaps one of the few who saw it: his white knuckles, and crescent shaped marks left on his palm. Which could only mean one thing. The mission didn't go well, or he received some intel which disturbed him to his very core.

Making your way to him, you placed your hand tentatively on his shoulder, trying to bring his thoughts to a halt. He needed to slow down; or he would keel over, and that just wouldn't do anyone good. He turned around, annoyance clear on his beautiful face. His face softened a bit as he saw you, but his frown was still intact, most likely annoyed by being interrupted. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You needed to get him out of that zone, and fast.

Stepping closer to him, you cupped his darling face, thumb gently stroking his lip. He softly hummed, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch. You moved closer, till your lips almost touched, noses touching. Taking his lower lip between your teeth, you tugged slowly, laving it with soft kitten licks. He groaned, his arms circling your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. Running your fingers through his hair, you pulled him closer as you deepened the kiss, devouring him with every passing minute.

Pulling back, you stared into his eyes, the light blue hues suddenly darker. You knew what he needed. You knew what had to be done. You dropped to the floor, never once losing eye contact as you dropped to your knees.

You pulled down his sweatpants, his erection springing free. He was waiting for you to touch him, you could tell. But you didn't. Perplexed, he looked down; only to see you cross your arms behind your back, your eyes darkening.

He seemed to have taken the hint, for the very next moment he pursed his lips, stepping forward as he held himself closer to your lips. Beckoning you to open up, he pushed inside your mouth in one move, his entire length inside.

He gave you a minute to adjust, before he let himself go. And you knew what was coming. There was no gentle Steve anymore. His thrusts were anything but slow, as he set a punishing pace. Holding onto your head for traction, he sped up, his balls hitting your chin. You kept your breathing steady, trying not to gag by breathing through your nose. He hit the back of your throat and groaned, trying to go deeper and deeper, to the point of no return. Abruptly pulling out, he picked you up and laid you down on a training mat, straddling your chest, as you struggled to get your breathing back to normal, for whatever he was planning on doing next.

Gentle was one word, out of many, that you would use to describe Steve. Today wasn't one of the days you would say that, though, as he manhandled you, like you weighed nothing. And you were okay with that, because there were some moments when even the lines were blurred; when the Captain and Steve were probably one and the same person, albeit for some time. So today, and any other time he needed, you would give him this. This semblance of control he needed.

He thrust himself in the valley between your breasts, his hand making its way to your wet folds, slowly caressing you. His tip grazed your lips as you stuck out your tongue, softly tasting him and his intoxicating taste.

He moved quite suddenly, making his way down your body. Without preamble, he thrust himself inside, burying himself to the hilt. You gasped, grasping onto his biceps, bracing yourself for what was about to come. Steve moved inside you with a pace which you hadn't seen before. You could feel the tension oozing out of him, as he tried to dispel some of it by claiming your body. And you would give him that, you though, as you wrapped yourself around him. His breath was coming in short pants in your ear, indicating that he was close. As the both of you reached your explosive ends, there was only a feeling of solitude and peace running through your veins, the blood thrumming in your ears.

He looked into your eyes, gazing into your very soul in a way that only Steve could. He would be okay soon, you thought idly, as you ran your fingers through his hair. He would talk, laugh and make love to you, as Steve. Before he went back to being the people's Captain.

Best enjoy the calm before the storm.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I didn't really plan on ending it like that, but oh well. 🤷‍♀️

[operation-619]

Steve Rogers

WOC/Reader

AU series were Bucky is safe and sound after AOU, (Y/N) (L/N) is a troubled woman with a haunting past, and its coming back to enslave her. But she doesn’t care, her interest is in a certain Captain America lead to a night that set off a series of unfortunate twists and turns. Can she come out on the other side, with her past a secret and a family to come home to. Or will she burn and take everyone down with her.

Her: I-Forest , II-Crimson , III-Hiraeth

My home isn’t a place - where you’ve come to know these people well enough home isn’t a physical object.  Coming soon

Call me when its over - she’s just a friend, right? Coming soon

[megamindsecretlair]

Sit Still (Look Pretty), Part 2

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Mutual voyeurism, Oral, fingering, fem receiving. PIV, unprotected. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is mid 20s and Nomad Steve is mid 30s. Part 2 of ?, I don't know how long this will take to wrap up. PWP.

Summary: AU where Steve was born in modern times but still received a serum in the army to make him a super soldier. He's moved in next door and has noticed you watching him. He's done watching today.

Word Count: 3,668k

Read Part 1 | Read Part 3

A/N: I don't know what it is about Nomad Steve. Once I start typing, I just keep going. So enjoy my brainrot. LOL. Apologies if I miss any warnings. All mistakes are mine. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to help writers!

You lazily swam on your back in your backyard pool, your hands gliding through the cool water. The sun beat down unbearably. Any part of you not in the water was currently frying. Still, you swam, enjoying any kind of relief and any excuse to be outside.

It had been a few days since you spoke to Steve, the military neighbor. You were too nervous to try on clothes in the window. Before, it had been a naughty secret. It was okay to be half nude in the comfort of your room when no one could see you. But knowing that he had…well, you were pretty sure he saw your boobs and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

On the one hand, it was hot as hell. Especially if he liked what he saw. On the other hand, you didn’t know this man or what he was about. He could be a creep. Yet, somehow you didn’t think so. Your gut told you that he was a decent man. But again, you didn’t know that. It could be wishful thinking.

However, you missed it. You missed thinking he was right across from you, itching for a view of your curves. You took a deep breath and submerged yourself in the icy water. This pathetic little game had to end. Before long, you would be too delusional to recognize reality from fantasy. 

Your head broke the surface and you wiped water from your eyes. The water made your skimpy swimsuit bubble around you. You smoothed it down and turned your face up to the sun. The dual sensation of heat and cold was just perfect enough to not be annoying. 

You cracked open an eye and stared directly at Steve’s window. He was standing at it, on his phone. He wore a white tank top and sweats and was on the phone. He stared at you with a slight smile. 

You stood transfixed, rooted in the pool. Water flowed around you and the slight current rocked you, but you might as well have been a statue. His mouth moved but of course, you didn’t know what he was saying. 

He gave you a small wave with his free hand. You waved back. It had to be illegal to look that good in casual wear. Surely, there was a law against being that hot. It was a hazard. It’d cause traffic accidents or cause people to spontaneously combust. Something. Surely. 

You lowered into the water until only your neck and head were out of the water. Steve watched you do it but then shook his head. He nodded his head, indicating that you should stand back up. 

You cocked your head. He wasn’t the boss of you. You stayed under the water and walked backwards, letting the water rush over your overheated skin. Steve nodded his head again and you shook yours. 

You smiled and blew him a kiss. He smirked and put his hand in his pocket. For a moment, he was content to watch you swim. It was thrilling having someone watch you. You could almost picture his eyes roving over you. 

When you stopped to look at him, he was no longer at the window. You stood up and pouted. Damn. Was he even watching you? 

You chuckled to yourself. This was absurd. You climbed out of the pool, pulling yourself up by the metal ladder that burned your hand. You idly rubbed it as you walked over to the lounger where your towel was. 

You dried yourself off. You placed one leg on the lounger and wiped down the runaway droplets. Your eyes flicked to his window, because you couldn’t help it. You somehow craved his attention despite not knowing anything about him. 

He stood there once more, still on the phone. He smirked as he caught your eye. He nodded towards you, lifting his hand as if to tell you to keep going. So you did. You dried off as slowly as possible, keeping your eyes trained on him. 

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and you wondered what he tasted like. Out of places to dry, you focused on wringing the excess water from your braids. Those took the longest to dry, but it was okay, you’d wash it later and dry it while watching something mindless on TV. 

Steve crooked his finger at you. You bit your lip. You pointed towards his front door and he nodded. He wanted you to go over there. To his house. In broad daylight. 

You huffed. This was crazy. Steve crooked his finger again and disappeared from the window. He couldn’t be serious. 

Everything inside of you screamed not to go over some strange man’s house. But you slipped your feet into your slides and found yourself walking towards the fence around your yard. You wrapped the towel around yourself as you left through the side gate and crossed the grass towards his front door. 

You rang the doorbell and a second later, he was there opening the door. He looked you up and down before stepping aside and letting you in. 

Nervous laughter bubbled in your gut but you stamped it down. He closed the door and locked it, sealing you inside. 

“Yes, I agree with that, General,” Steve said. The phone was pressed to his ear so you couldn’t hear the other side of it. Steve walked forward, grabbed your hand, and tugged you deeper into his house.

He had just moved in, but already his things had been more than half way unpacked. Empty boxes sat near the front door while his furniture was neatly arranged, a bookshelf filled with books, and dishware left out on the table. 

He tugged you upstairs and you briefly wondered about all the water you were dripping on his hardwood floor. You winced. His hand was cool to the touch. Air conditioning blasted through the entire house. 

He pulled you into an office. It was creepy how these houses were so similar. His office was where your room would be in your house. 

Once inside, he put the call on speaker and mute. “You are in big trouble,” he said.

You smiled. “Hello to you too, neighbor,” you said. 

He smiled back. He had such a boyish smile that was at odds to the man you created in your head. His beard was neat and trimmed making him appear more mature and distinguished. 

“Now why would I be in trouble?” You asked. 

He shrugged. “You get me used to your shows every day and then just stop?” He asked.

You gasped and then you giggled. “Well, a girl kind of needs feedback. I can’t tell if you’re looking or not,” you said. 

“I’m definitely looking. And I have no notes. You are gorgeous,” he said. 

You roll your eyes. “That doesn’t exactly help.”

He stalked forward, using his height as an advantage over you. You craned your neck to look into his eyes. 

“The shows continue,” he said. His voice made you shiver. It wasn’t incredibly deep, but it did have a rattle in the back of his throat that made you long to hear it again. 

“Or what?” You challenged.

He rocked back on his heels with a smirk. “Oh, it’s like that?” He asked. 

Before you could tell him about himself, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his desk. There were still boxes thrown about as he was getting set up. But his desk was clear except for a few notebooks and a pen. 

He picked you up and you yelped. As a big girl, you didn’t get picked up often. It was jarring. One minute you were safe and planted on the ground and in the next, you were lifted up without a grunt. You slapped at his thick arms until you were sitting on his desk.

“My towel is wet-”

“Pull down your bottoms,” he said. 

You gaped at him. He placed his phone on his desk. There was a man still talking but you didn’t care what he was saying. Your eyes were fixed on Steve. 

“You can say no at any time. You can walk out right now. But I don’t think you will.” He reached out and pushed your arms down. Then, he unwrapped your towel and let it fall around your waist.

“Why’s that?” 

“You’re still sitting here. And I think you like being told what to do,” he said. He stroked your cheek. He smelled earthy, like mountain air. 

“No one likes being told what to do. Least of all me,” you said. 

“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you? Big fancy house like yours, parents are well to do. Bet you hardly heard the word ‘no’ growing up. Am I right?” 

“Maybe I earned everything I have. Good grades, stayed out of trouble…?” 

“Ahh, the resident good girl who never did anything bad. Right?”

Your stomach flipped when he said good girl. You pursed your lips to keep from looking at that too closely.

“I wasn’t some goody two-shoes, okay? I’ve done plenty of things.” 

“Yeah? Prove it. Bottoms. Off.” He stared you down. 

What’s worse was that the longer he stared, the more you felt compelled to comply. You hooked your thumbs under your swim bottoms and pulled them down. You leaned up to pull them under your ass and down your legs. It dangled off of one foot until you popped your foot and it fell to the ground with a wet slap. 

“Open up for me,” he said. His voice grew huskier, his dark blue eyes never leaving your face. 

You opened your legs until you were completely bare to him. He took his time looking you over. His eyes studied your body. He looked at the bikini top covering your boobs, your tummy with stretch marks, your thick thighs, and finally the hair at the center of you. 

“Gorgeous,” he said. 

The general on the phone called Steve’s name. He unmuted the phone. “Yes, I’m still here General. I just don’t see why we’re taking this guy seriously. I mean, he calls himself Ultron. If that doesn’t scream idiot, I don’t know what does,” he said. That caused a few people to laugh over the phone. 

He placed the phone back on mute. “I want to keep this phone off mute. But that means you gotta stay quiet for me, sweetheart,” he said.

“You’re joking,” you said. The cold air and your wet skin made you shiver. But so did the hungry look in his eyes. He couldn’t be serious. 

“You’re going to stay quiet. You’re going to be good for me. And you’ll get a reward later,” he said. 

You opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you with a quick, harsh kiss. He was not gentle at all as he took possession of your mouth. His beard was surprisingly smooth and silky against your skin. His breath was faintly minty. He pulled away and you chased his mouth, wanting more. 

He put a finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. He unmuted his phone and sat down in his chair. He rolled forward until he was eye level with your pussy. 

You gasped already. While he was on the phone? 

His eyes snapped to yours with a silent warning. And that was the only warning you got. He dived in between your legs, his mouth latching on to your clit with an accuracy you’ve never experienced. You usually had to wiggle or grab a guy’s head to move him where you needed him.

That was beyond unnecessary for Steve. His tongue delved into your folds and licked and sucked on your clit. You bit your lip, hard, trying not to moan or gasp or yell or anything else you needed to do. 

His hands snaked under your legs and pulled them open wider. You started to shift. He felt too damn good. He tightened his hold on you and continued to suckle and tease. You could feel your arousal leaking from you and onto the towel. 

You panted, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Your tummy tightened, trying to stave off an orgasm. You never wanted him to stop. You dug your fingers into his hair and scratched at his scalp.

“Captain?” 

Steve placed a sloppy, wet kiss to your thigh. Your juices dripped down his beard and you whined a bit. He gave you an annoyed look. “Sorry about that, General. I understand the assessment of the situation, but it’s my professional opinion that this Ultron guy is no more than a kid trying to rule an anthill. Sokovia is a backwater country that’s constantly under new management,” he said. 

Steve nipped at your leg and you jerked. “Not a sound,” he mouthed before his lips returned to your pussy.

You leaned back on your elbows and threw your head back. There was no way you could stay quiet. Pleasure rippled through you and your legs became uncontrollable. He leaned down further and lapped at your pussy and you gasped anyway. He stopped and leveled you with a deadly stare.

He glanced at the phone but the general or whoever else was on the phone were busy arguing over something to do with a strike team. 

“Sorry,” you mouthed. 

He returned to licking you, but went far slower. You struggled to not make a sound. Your orgasm steadily built back up. Oh, this man was dangerous. He played you like a damn fiddle. He licked one slow line from your clit to your pussy and then back again. He placed his whole mouth on your clit and sucked.

Your orgasm rushed through you causing you to spasm out on his desk. You bucked and writhed so badly, he stood up and held you down, placing his hand over your mouth. 

“If he had a weapon large enough to decimate Sokovia, I’ll chew a brick,” Steve said to the phone and the general laughed. 

On the way down from your climax, Steve stared at all the faces you made. You probably looked like a hot mess. But he was focused. He smirked. You got back onto your elbows to support your weight. You scooted forward, ready to return the favor, but he stood in between your legs and trapped you in place.

You nodded your head to him. He licked his lips and then wiped his wet beard on his arm. Your cheeks flamed thinking that all of that came from you. 

He leaned down and planted sloppy, wet kisses on you. You smelled and tasted yourself on his tongue and it made you whimper. He bit your lip as a reminder to shut the hell up. You were so turned on, you couldn’t think straight.

None of your past sexual encounters had been like this. The guys you had been with were nice, good in bed, but it was nothing to write home about. It was nothing to write songs over or stay up until 4am reliving the memory. But this. This was enough to get addicted to. You felt empty. You ached. You yearned to have him inside you. 

His hands roved over you, from your shoulders to your arms, to your legs and thighs. He nipped at your jaw and neck. Then his fingers slid up your thigh until disappearing inside of you. You breathed heavily, the sound exceptionally loud in the quiet room. 

“Breathe,” he whispered in your ear. 

You slowed your breaths but he kept up his delicious assault. He added a second finger and your mouth opened. “You can take more than that,” he whispered. 

He added a third finger. He kept up a relentless pace, driving his fingers in to the knuckle and then back out. His thumb circled your clit and you nearly jumped off of the desk. 

He picked up the phone with his free hand and rejoined the conversation. You weren’t paying attention. You were too busy holding on for dear life. Pressure built and your pussy squeezed his fingers. 

He drove your pleasure higher and higher, this second climax hitting you faster than the first. 

He took his fingers out and shoved them into your mouth. His fingers were coated in your arousal and you sucked on it as you rode out your orgasm.

“I think the man we should be focusing on is Zemo. Now, he’s a nasty guy,” Steve said into the phone. He watched you again, watched as you came apart under his hands. You were hungry for his fingers, coated in the evidence of how insane he made you. 

You moaned softly around his fingers as you settled down. You had no idea how you were going to suck him off after that. But fuck, you wanted to try. He withdrew his fingers and you licked your lips. 

You wanted to taste him. You wanted to see him. His sweatpants were tented with a large dick print. You leaned forward, hands outstretched, but he grabbed your wrists in one hand and pinned them to your side. 

Your eyes were glazed over, but you managed to focus on him long enough to see him smirk. He continued to talk for a moment so you were content to look at him.

He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His hair was brushed away from his face. He had a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He talked with his whole face, his expressions were fluid as he talked. 

He placed the phone down and grabbed your chin.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Yes,” you whispered. 

“Good, I’m not done with you. You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he said.

You wailed briefly, before he narrowed his eyes at you. What the hell else was there?!

He crowded your space again, stepping in close between your legs. He pulled down your bikini top, exposing your breasts. He kissed your chest, then licked it. He kissed his way to your nipple before teasing it in between his teeth. 

Oh, you wanted to cry out so badly. You wanted to shout from the rooftop. You felt so damn dirty and naughty being used like this. He could do whatever he wanted with you. And no one knew you were there. 

Could you even tell your friends about this? Did you even have the words to describe something this magical? Your friends probably wouldn’t believe you. 

Rolling your nipple around his mouth, he pulled down his sweats. You couldn’t look. The only thing you could do was feel. 

He dragged the tip of his dick up and down your folds, getting it nice and wet before he pushed in.

“F–” 

He kissed whatever you were about to say. He was huge. He took his time pushing into you, getting you acclimated for his size. He wasn’t even halfway in and he was still going. He pulled out and then pushed back in, going deeper with each stroke. 

When he bottomed out, he stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust. Your eyes snapped to his and he had a patient smile on his face. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. So, so good,” he whispered in your ear. 

You bit his chest. You wanted to make a sound. You wanted to cry out. He had to know what he was doing to you. You were driven mad with the need to let it all out. 

“Yes, General. We have intel that Zemo is the real threat. Not some megalomaniac with a Pinnochio obsession,” Steve said. 

Steve pulled out and then slid back in. He did it a few more times to make sure that you could take him. Then, he let loose. He pounded into you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders and just held on as best as you could. “That’s it, sweetheart. You take me so well,” he whispered. 

Your head lolled back. It was too much. You were still sensitive from your earlier orgasms, so on every slide in, he grazed your clit and it made your head go numb with pleasure. You wouldn’t survive another orgasm. You bucked against him, pushed against him. He had to slow down or something.

“No, sweetheart. You can take me. I believe in you. Look how well you’re doing already.” His voice was like a light in the storm. 

You weakly pounded on his chest as he lifted one of your legs and he drove deeper still. “That’s my good girl. You take all of me,” he said. 

“I’m going to cum in this tight, little pussy. You want that, sweetheart?” 

You nodded. Hell yeah you wanted it. You didn’t think you were one for a creampie. Especially considering that he wasn’t wearing a condom. But fuck it. You were ready for anything he gave you. 

He sped up and dug his thumb into your mouth. You sucked on his finger. He clenched his jaw, trying not to make a sound either. The generals on the phone continued to drone on and on. 

He took his thumb out of your mouth and circled it around your clit. You came, hard. Your back lifted off of his desk and he leaned forward to push you back down with his body weight. You clenched painfully around his dick and he exploded. 

He shot thick, warm ropes of cum into your pussy. Jets of it painted your insides. You both tried to quietly pant and huff. He kissed you as you came down, his tongue moving over your lips. You kissed him back, bringing your hands to play in his silky hair. 

“Yes, General. I will send you more intel on Zemo. Let’s schedule something soon to discuss more about Ultron and their demands,” he said.

He hung up the phone. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re mine now.”

You finally moaned and flopped back onto his desk.

Read Part 1 | Read Part 3

[megamindslair]

Room 1918

Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: Nomad Steve x Black!FemReader. MINORS DNI. Dominance, breeding kink, unprotective p in v, fingering fem receiving, biting, cum play, blow job, and dirty talk.

Word Count: 3,569k

Summary: After the troubling events of Civil War, Steve is constantly on the move. But even a super soldier has needs. He just so happened to fall for your charms and you promptly fell into an arrangement. At each hotel you meet at, you reserve Room 1918 and wait for him.

A/N: What can I say, I'm toasted and feral AF for Nomad Steve and just kept writing. Apologies in advance if I missed warnings or offend anyone. Likes are awesome, but consider reblogging and commenting. I'd like to be a better writer! Not beta'd or proofread all that well, it's almost 5am for me. LOL

Room 1918

He’s late. You pace back and forth in front of the window, peeking out every so often. You bite your lip as you think about all the reasons he could be late. The feds caught up to him, he was killed, or some emergency. You think about turning on the TV but the thought of seeing his face plastered on the news makes you sick. 

In between your worries, you’re also excited. Your skin iss sensitive already. You anticipate all the wicked things Steve will do to you tonight. You blow out a breath and look out of the window one more time. 

A knock on the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you cross the dark navy carpet towards the door. You look through the peephole and see a familiar bearded figure with a cap on his head. Still, per his instructions anyway, you call out, “Who’s there?” 

“It’s me,” his deep voice rumbles from the other side. You smile and open the door. Steve stands before you in dark jeans, gray shirt, and a black hoodie. His cap is pulled low over his brow and his beard is growing out. He has a full and proper beard this time, most likely to fool security cameras.

You lean your head on the hotel door and just drink him in. Even in casual clothes, he looks every inch the super soldier you know him to be. Your cheeks warm as you objectify him. His broad shoulders barely fit through the frame as he walks in. 

He pushes past you smelling like sandalwood and soap and man. He is at least a foot taller. He towers over you. He sniffs at you as he brushes past looking down and looking you over. 

You’re wearing a baby pink robe with black trimming. The bottom slightly flared to accommodate your wide hips and it was trimmed in faux mink. It contrasted perfectly with your russet skin. The dim hotel lights make your skin glow and you hope the glitter was showing. But the dark look in his blue eyes let you know that it didn’t matter. He is devouring you in one look. 

“You are a treasure,” he says. 

You giggle softly and close the door behind him. You lock the door and stand before him and let him look his fill.

He takes off his cap and throws it onto the mahogany dresser. His hair is darker, the blond more akin to brown now. His hair is longer too, runaway strands landing into his pretty face. 

“You broke our rule,” he grumbles. His brows draw down, scowling at you.

“Which one?” 

“I could see you from the parking lot, looking out of the window. You can’t do that. If someone catches you…”

“They won’t. No one knows about us. We’ve been careful,” you say. You approach him until you are chest to chest. 

“All the same. Don’t look out of the window. Someone could see, or someone could harm you. These windows aren’t that effective.”

You roll your eyes. You did not wait a whole fucking month to hear a lecture about safety and evasion tips. All you had were stolen moments. One day of being in his arms. The other days, there was no communication. Full and total blackout. You anxiously awaited news that he was captured or killed. Until the next time he hit up your email. 

You set up a joint email account and communicated via the draft folder. He’d send you a city and you’d book a flight. Since you worked for yourself, there was no one to answer to but yourself. Your friends and family just thought you liked to travel. They called you lucky.

You were dating a ghost. And every day he was on the run, was another day you could never be together. And it hurt. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He asks. 

“I promise I won’t look out of the window next time,” you say. 

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” His voice pitches lower and he scowls even further at you. He spoke slowly as if you hadn’t heard him the first time. A tingle shoots up your legs. 

“Yes, I did,” you say. You raise your eyebrow at him.

Steve sighs and rubs his beard. “I’m not in the mood,” he says. 

You coo and closed the remaining distance, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “I can fix that,” you say. You trail your hands lower, moving your hands over his jeans. A noticeable bulge grows under your exploring hands and you rub him over his jeans.

Steve grabs your wandering hands in one hand and narrows his eyes at you. His blue eyes are scalding. You would’ve flinched if it didn’t just turn you on. The Steve that stayed hidden away was swimming to the surface. The side of him that he kept hidden was there. 

“I said I’m not in the mood. You’re taking dangerous risks. I won’t risk you,” he says. 

“It’s not dangerous, Steve. I promise. I just…I miss you so fuckin’ much,” you say. 

“That doesn’t mean you can put yourself at risk. You know you belong to me. What would I do without these days I get to see you?” He asks.

He’s right of course, the arrogant prick. “I won’t do anything to risk that, Steve,” you say. An attitude creeps into your tone and you know the moment you fucked up. His eyebrows shoot up at the same time his hands squeezes yours. 

“Just for that, you don’t get your treat tonight. You’ll have to wait another month,” he says.

“Oh come on,” you whine. You know you sound annoying and you hated it. 

“Keep it up, I’ll make it two months.”

“Steve, please,” you say. You pout, sticking out your bottom lip and rounding your eyes. 

“Three months,” he says. His jaw clenches as he stares you down.

“Please Steve, I won’t make it that long,” you plead. 

“I don’t care.” He grabbs your jaw, squeezing your rounded face until your lips pucker. “I told you that I’m not in the mood. Get your ass on the bed, now,” he growls so close to your face that his breath fans over it. He pushes you away until you stumble back a bit.

You manage to lick your lips. Something bad happened today. It was either a close call or he failed to help someone. That whole other side was begging to be pushed. He thought he needed total obedience, but he needed to get worked up more. To push past that barrier and consume you body and soul. 

“Let me make it up to you,” you say. You approach him and slid to the floor to get on your knees. You move closer on your knees. You reach up for his jeans and unbuckle his belt. You tug it through the metal loop. As you work to free him, you keep your eyes on him. He’s so tall, he might as well be a giant. Especially while you were on your knees.

The mink at the bottom of your robe tickles your legs and only works to make your skin hyperaware. The hold the man had on you was like being drunk. Total loss of your control. Your head is fuzzy and you sway. And you overall feel so damn horny, you were nearly combusting.

“Let me earn back my months,” you say.

You palm him and he sighs. His eyes flutter closed as you work him up and down softly. Your hand glides over his velvety soft dick. The serum really increased everything about him. His thick length intimidates you. You’ve sucked him off before but every time required a pep talk.

You lick the head of his dick, painting your tongue with his precum. You swallow the head and lick back and forth over the tip. A groan leaves Steve as he throws his head back. You take him in further, swallowing him down. His hips jerk forward and he digs his hands into your hair.

He places his palm on your scalp and grabs your hair at the roots. He soon takes over, fucking your mouth as if you were nothing more than a hole to be used. He sets the rhythm and the pace, bouncing you up and down. You look at him as you hollow out your cheeks. 

Steve’s dick hits the back of your throat, causing you to choke a bit. Steve groans hearing your whimpers and moans and quiet pleas. Still, he is relentless. Your jaw hurts and tears gather in your eyes.

“That’s my dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says. “Suck that dick, baby.” His whispered commands make your pussy clench with vicious need. His balls slap your chin. He reaches down with his other hand to pull on your dark left nipple. It was his favorite nipple for some reason. Probably because it was slightly bigger than the right and you swore it was more sensitive. Every time he pinched you, it sent a straight shot of desire to your pussy. 

Your whimpers increase, creating a sexy symphony of carnal sounds. His harsh breaths mingle with your crying and soon he’s groaning. “Fuck, this mouth is gorgeous,” he moans.

Steve abruptly pulls out of your mouth with a growl. He grabs your arms and lifts you to your feet. He leans in and licks the tears off your cheek. Then he’s kissing you, stroking his tongue against yours. He grabs your face and moves you backward until your legs are hitting the bed.

“You’re gonna take this cum inside of you,” he say.

“Yes, Steve,” you huff. You rotate your jaw to get some feeling back into it. 

“You only earned one month back,” he say.

You open your mouth to speak but Steve’s eyes burns holy retribution. He finally snaps. He pushes you onto the bed. You hop once. He stares down at you and rubs his beard. You got the sense that he was trying to figure out the best way to attack you. 

He glares at you as he strips. His shirt and hoodie are off in one fell swoop and flung onto the floor. He shucks off his shoes and socks and relieves himself of his jeans and underwear.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Tanned skin, a glory trail down to his impressive dick. It bounces under your gaze and you lick your lips. 

“You better be fuckin’ wet,” he says. He rips open your robe, the snaps releasing at once. You learned your lesson with the button and latch ones. Your robes kept getting shredded with his inhuman strength. And you really like this one. 

You don’t wear anything underneath. Somehow you knew that tonight would be different. Whether it was a hunch or intuition, it came in handy tonight. His gaze roams over your body, sighing and cooing in pleasure.

“You’re really fuckin’ perfect,” he croons. He kept eye contact as he leans forward and over you, licking your tummy. You whimpers. His rough tongue was divine. Surely it was a crime to be this addicted to somebody. His every touch set your nerves on fire. 

Fresh arousal drips out of your pussy and you keen forward trying to get his attention. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that needy little cunt for you,” he says. Oh god, you whimper. 

He climbs onto the bed, forgoing your usual treat of him eating you out. You hoped that after he got that post-nut clarity, he’d be all too happy to oblige. But knowing him, he’d stick to it out of spite. By simply knowing that you needed his lips on your pussy. 

As he came over you, he kisses you so sweetly. Feathering his kisses over your full, luscious lips. He kisses the side of your mouth and then your jaw. He licks a hot trail on your neck. 

Your hands came up to rub his back. He’s on fire. He’s a living furnace under your fingertips. His muscles contract and flex beneath your touch. 

“I’m gonna fill that needy cunt with my seed. I want you so full,” he growls in your ear. The subtle gravel in his voice makes you tingle all over. “I need you so badly. Please,” you beg. 

You’re not too proud to beg. Your pussy aches and feels empty. You need him to fill you up now.  You had a very low tolerance for just about everything. Least of all this weird middle between pleasure and pain. 

Steve denies you further. He continues to rain kisses on your chest, sucking on your titty and biting you. He licks the sting away and then latches on to your nipple. He sucks and teases the little bead between his teeth. He uses one hand to dig under you and grab on to your fat ass. 

He squeezes and growls in satisfaction. He uses his other hand to roll your other nipple with his fingers. You moan and writhe. You sigh. “Please, please, please,” you cry.

He kneads your breast and pinches your nipple. Then he switches sides. His mouth came over his favorite nipple and gave it just as much attention. Freezing hotel air hit your wet nipple and you shivered. His free hand came up to warm your titty once more. 

“Steve,” you beg. You couldn’t speak anymore. It was too much.

“That’s my filthy girl,” he says. He lowers his left hand to dance over your damp curls. You suck in a breath. He digs his finger between your pussy lips and sighs. You’e so wet, the sounds of which echoed in the silent room. 

“You’re making a mess over here, sweetheart,” he chides. You whimper and your legs shake. Your nails dig into Steve’s shoulders. He rubs your clit in agonizingly slow circles. Your arousal ramps higher and higher until your body begins to jerk and twitch. 

“Cum for me, dirty girl. Cum on my fingers,” he croons. 

You’re stuttering breaths and shaking so much that he leans down further until he is right on top of you. The solid weight of him made you come undone. He curls his fingers inside of you and you come with a powerful force, waves of please washing over you. Your body seizes as you come. 

Steve talks you down from it, calling you a pretty girl and beautiful and gorgeous. Each new adjective soaked into your brown skin, lighting you up from the inside. You absently rub his head, letting his silky tresses slip through your fingers. 

Your skin’s overheated. If it wasn’t for his body laying on top of yours, you would’ve been shivering from how incredibly cold you were. You sniffle as runaway tears escaped your eyes. 

Steve kisses your cheek, once again licking up the tears. He makes his way back to your mouth. He kisses you lazily. As if you had all the time in the world. He bites your bottom lip hard enough to sting. Then he licks it away. He leans back and sucks on his fingers. The fingers that were inside of you.

You smell your arousal on his fingers. Your breathing starts to settle as Steve sticks his fingers into your mouth. You taste yourself on his fingers and whimper. 

He leans up until he’s kneeling on the bed. He grabs your thighs and moves them to his hips so that he’s lined up perfectly. He pitches forward and lets his smooth dick rub your clit. You’re still a bit sensitive from your orgasm so you twitch on every up-slide. 

Then, he shoves in one full thrust. You’re so slippery, he slides in without resistance. You both moan at the contact. You’re finally full and fuck, it burns so good. He stays like that for a few moments as you acclimate to his size and girth. 

“Fuck. Your pussy feels so damn good,” he says. 

You whimper beneath him and move up and down, trying to signal without words that he needed to move. He pants above you. His floppy hair falls over his brow and half in his eyes. He licks his lips as he stares at you.

Oh, right. You tap his arm twice to let him know that you were okay and he could keep going. You found out pretty quickly that he was capable of rendering you catatonic. You needed a system that communicated through taps to let him know that you were down for everything he was doing. 

He leans forward and kisses you before sliding out of you and then sliding back in. “Such a messy, filthy girl. You’re making a mess all over my dick,” he says.

“Oh god, Steve,” you cry. You clench around his dick and you both groan. You grab onto his forearms and wrap your thick legs around his waist. He starts to piston inside of you, going so deep and hard that he’s hitting the shit out of your G spot. 

You hold on, bouncing on his dick. His balls slap against your ass. 

“Fuck, I’m going to give you all this cum, sweetheart. Tell me you want it,” he says.

“I want it so badly. Please fill me up, please.” 

A desperate need takes hold of you. He feels so good sliding in and out of you with ease. You truly are making a mess. He takes your wrists in his one palm and lifts them above your head until your breasts are on full display. His other hand grips your knee and pushes it back to get a better angle. Somehow, he’s able to go deeper and you make all kinds of incoherent sounds.

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna bruise in the morning. His grip is punishing, locking you into place. Steve chases his own orgasm, giving you no more thought as he closes his eyes and groane. His stomach contracts from the effort of gliding into you. 

“Take this fuckin’ cum, sweetheart. I want your pussy full of my cum. Only mine. Help me fill you up,” he grunts.

He thrusts harder, his thighs slapping against yours. You clench and clench around him, your belly burning with the need to cum. 

“I’m going to put a baby in that pussy of yours. I want your belly to be swollen,” he growl. 

“Oh fuck,” you scream. An orgasm rips through you. Sparks fly behind your eyelids. Your body convulses and twists and turns. Steve lets go of your wrists to hold himself up. He pumps three more times before bursting inside of you with a long, guttural moan. 

His hot seed squirts inside of you, bathing your insides. He pumps a few more times before dropping on top of you. He shakes and you rub his back. You touch every inch of him you could get your hands on. 

He withdraws and you make embarrassing squelching noises as he pulls out. His cum leaks out. You groan from the sensation. He leans up and away, leaning back on his haunches so he can grab your legs and spread them apart.

He surveys his handy work and lord help, but you were getting aroused again. He grunted in between his huffs. 

“You keep that fuckin’ cum inside you,” he growls. He dips his hand down to gather up the cum that slips out. Then he pushes it back inside of you, massaging your overworked pussy. 

“That’s my fuckin’ pussy, that I can use however I want right?” He asks.

“Yes, Steve,” you whisper. You shiver from him fucking his cum back into you. 

“You gonna keep this cum inside you? You gonna grow my baby?” He asks.

“Oh god, yes Steve,” you whine. 

This orgasm sneaks up on you. One minute he is adding a third finger inside of you and the next, you’re huffing and whining and whimpering again. He fucks you through it, moving his fingers in and out as you cry out. Your sweet cries flow over the walls and hit you back.

“So needy and filthy,” he says. 

As you come down, he grins at you for the first time that night. He licks his fingers as he gives you a devilish grin. 

“The things I’m going to do to you tonight,” he says wistfully. His eyes look over your deep russet skin, your big tummy, and juicy breasts. 

You yawn and he chuckles. “Thank you, sweetheart. Get some sleep, we’ve got a long night to make up for.”

Steve untangles himself from you, crossing the room to the bathroom. You curl up on your side as sleep tugs heavily. Steve returne with a washcloth to clean you up. You feel the cold circle of your arousal on the bed. It’s huge. You groan. You can’t believe that all of that came out of you. 

Steve takes care of himself with his own washcloth before laying down and pulling you into him. His warm chest hits your back and your ass hits his dick. You both sigh as you wiggle a bit. Steve tells you to behave. 

He wraps a massive arm around your waist and pulls you closer, his fingers curling underneath you. You’re locked in and aren't about to go anywhere. 

You fall into a deep, deep sleep curled up with the literal man of your dreams.

[peacefulwriter88]

Shackled

Warnings: NC 18. Blowjobs. Penetration. Language 

A/N: @younghades inspired me for this story and was also kind enough to beta for me along with @geminimoonbeamx - thank you! I really enjoy exploring parts of Steve that the comics do a beautiful job of portraying but the MCU unfortunately never exploited completely + SMUT. I hope you all enjoy!

_____

How dare he. 

How fucking dare he. 

You pause lifting your martini to your lips, the promise of gin just a mouths length away as you look down at the photo. 

It’s Steve and he’s wearing his classic red avengers sweatshirt that reads Captain in the back. Not that you could see it in this photo. No, in this photo all you could see was the beard, that handsome beard of his in a smile and the Australian Shepard dog, Merlin, that you both had adopted a year ago. Underneath the photo he had written in italics

New snuggle bug since the one I would want isn’t home

It was a trick. A distraction to guilt you home. Your earlier conversation, though you knew he understood, must’ve fallen on deaf ears, 

“Why aren’t you home?” he had asked two hours earlier and you had, in your already tipsy state rolled your eyes and sassed back, 

“Why aren’t you home? It's Bre’s birthday. You know that I told her - and you - that I would be out.” 

That had been the end of that. 

You didn’t realize that he was going to surprise you and Merlin tonight. Now, all you could think about was being back home, not in a short, spandex’s black dress that you had worn out but in sweats and a sweatshirt. You were restless from staying in the past week waiting on him - being an avenger didn’t provide the liberty to determine your on schedule. 

So you send him a simple text 

Pick me up in 10?

Not thinking anything of it. Thinking, for sure, that he would ignore it. 

You should know better than to ever underestimate Steve Rogers 

When you and your friends leave the club twenty minutes later, you are all surprised at the blonde blue-eyed Avenger who is watching you deliberately.

He’s leaning on his bike  across the street, ocean eyes watching your every move as you make your way to the street with your friends. Everyone is trying to hail a ride - should they lyft or uber? - but your eyes are stamped to him as he pushes off his bike, makes his way towards your group. 

You were going home by a different means. 

“Ladies, how are you doing tonight?” your friends squeal because it was Steve Rogers and gawd weren’t you lucky to have a man like Steve Rogers in love with you. They say as much and you agree - you were lucky as you lean up to wrap your arms around him, press your lips to his. 

He’s cold and soft in all the ways you expected him to be - you’re sure he was hoping to walk into a house with you in it, making dinner and eagerly waiting for him alongside Merlin- and normally you would be. Normally you lived for those evenings. 

But tonight…...

“I just needed one night out….I’ve been so alone missing you.” you whisper against his soft lips and his hands go to squeeze your ass, kisses you again as he gives a small smile. 

“I know.” 

His voice is dark and guttural, tickles against the beard he’s decided to keep since being out of shadow. 

“Sorry ladies, going to have to steal her.” it's all he says as he wraps his arms around your waist, starts to escort you across the street. 

“Going to have to remind you who you belong to…” he whispers lowly, placing one last kiss on your neck before helping you onto the bike, doing your best not to flash others. 

That was how it began. 

Now you were sitting in your shared apartment, hands crossed neatly over your lap as you sat criss crossed in your bed. Steve was in the chair across from you, slightly slouched, a beer in one hand as he rubbed his beard, flickering from your face to the dark area between your legs that was hidden from him. 

He had lit candles in the room when you had walked in and your nostril was stinging with the smells of sandalwood and teakwood, woodsy dark smells that had caused goosebumps to splay over your body when you realized the kind of night that Steve was hoping to have. 

That you had disrupted. 

“What should I do with you?” he finally asks, placing his beer down on the table and looking at you expectantly. You shrug and he raises an eyebrow - a warning -  and you clear your throat as you say, 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know what?” he repeats, thoughtly warning ringing in your ears and you sit up more straight as you mumble out, 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

Steve tilts his head, watches you for a second more before shaking his head, 

“You really hurt my feelings earlier sugar.” 

Sugar. This was gentle Steve, trying to tame the monster that he tried to keep caged down 90% of the time. The parts of him he didn’t allow anyone else to see - the mistakes, the pain, the regret that he all took out in the darker side of him. 

You didn’t want him to be gentle, not anymore. You liked dominant, choactic Steve Rogers when he showed up. 

“I didn’t mean too, sir, but I just needed to get some fresh air tonight.” 

“Needed to tease all those men.” he bites back, the tinge of jealousy intertwining in his words and you bite back the moan that wants to release as you nod your head slowly.  His voice is coarser as he whispers, 

“Wanted them to forget how you’re chained to me? How you’re mine.” 

Another nod from you, as you say with a low sultry voice, 

“Girl’s like to tease to remember that they’re desirable.” 

It was true. A guy hadn’t looked at you for months. Steve made sure of that. It normally didn’t bother you - it was nice that men understood that you were called for.  Except Steve had been in and out of your life for weeks lately  and that had you insecure. All up in your head. 

He gets up, walks up to you slowly, like a cat circling its prey, 

“Are my reminders not good enough.” his voice is dominant, yes, but with a touch of pain. 

“They’re fine when you’re around. When you’re not then my insecurities start to haunt me.” 

You and Steve make it work - your relationship - because of the honesty you both have built. You wanted him to understand that you weren’t being completely disobedient because of your natural need to be defiant but because you also needed to breathe. 

Loving an Avenger - fallen or not - was just as hard as being an Avenger. 

He knows all of this, could hear it over the phone the past few weeks but didn’t want to bring it up - didn’t want to cause a fight. So he let it linger, let it lay in the air and here you both were. 

Itching to destroy the other. 

You brought out his savage side. He feared it. He loved it. 

He loved you and he wanted you to understand to know. However; you also were being openly defiant and all those weeks of dead bodies - of letting humanity and his team down and the nightmares he kept at night were only binded, begging to be released. 

Only you could free him of it. He exhausted of being Mr. Good Boy. 

“On your knees.” Steve whispers, stopping a few yards in front of the bed. You take your time as you untangle your limbs, begin to crawl towards him. You know that he wants to punish you - wants to embarass you for leaving him out on a limb and you try to fight the moan that wants to escape your lips in anticipation - the flushing of your panties. The shame you carry from being turned on from the thought. 

You make it to him a little slower then he’d prefer - you were in one of those moods it would seem - and so when you're on your knees in front of him, looking at him with your eyes blinking up at him innocently he already knows how he’s going to punish you. 

Love you. 

               Reward you.

                                  Cherish you. 

                                                     Destroy you. 

He takes his time unbuckling his belt, watching you under dark indigo eyes that brew like a storm in the Atlantic, the pop of his buttons a welcomed distraction. You try to focus on the sound of his jeans brushing down his legs, pooling at his feet as he kicks them off, his boxers silent as his erection springs free. 

You groan, drinking in his manhood

You think back to a conversation that you had with your friend Stefanie hours earlier. She had been drunk - she had had a very long work week - and had no filter for her next words, 

“You’re dating a man with super soldier serum? Does that mean he has a super soldier cock?” 

You smirk as you drink in his manhood now. You had told her not to worry about it - it was between you and Steve. Now, you admire what is in front of you. He was lengthy, sure, and girthy in all the right ways - a blonde beaut that his trimmed hairs praised as it stood at attention but you’re not sure if his manhood being glorious was all super serum. 

In your gut you felt this was always Steve, even when he was scrawny and could barely carry himself and didn’t know what to do with the weapon between his legs. 

His stamina; however, you attested that all to the serum. 

“You’re going to be an obedient little girl and let me fuck this mouth however I please. You’re not going to protest and when I think you’re ready you’re going to drink my cum like the good little slut I  know you to be. You got that sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart. There he was.

He whispers the demeaning words and they shouldn’t turn you on, they really shouldn’t, but it's all you can do to not bend backwards and cum in your panties. Still doesn’t deny a rush that floods between your legs, getting you wetter, and the smell mingles with the candles that are burning in the room. 

Steve groans, his super senses attaching to the smell as he grabs your head and pushes you towards his center, watches in adoration as your face inhales him, drinks him in. 

Then your mouth takes over. 

Your tongue sucks his tip, flickering over his hole before your jaw goes lax, opens wider for him. You hum content as he pushes himself into you, violating your space, tongue smashed to the basement of your mouth, teeth pulled back as you begin to breathe slowly through your nostrils. 

You loved pleasuring your man, loved to worship him but admittedly, he was a lot to take in. 

Too much it always felt. 

It’s on a particular stroke that his top hits the back of your throat that has you gagging, your hands naturally trying to push him away. 

He tsks, catching your wrists, crossing one over the over as he continued to push himself into you, 

“Nuh uh sweetheart we talked about this. You’re going to let me fuck this wet mouth, going to cum all over that pretty little face of yours.”

You try to focus on his words, on the way he praised you and not on the weight of his penis, the way your eyes tested  uncontrollably as he moved in and out of your mouth. Just when you didn’t think you could bare anymore, when your gagging was taking over the low hums of contentment, you feel Steve’s hip buckle as he pulls out of you. 

“Open wide.” He whispers and you nod, widening your mouth and leaning your head back, lashes kissing your cheeks. 

“Awww fu…..fuck.” Steve whispers hands clutching the strands of your hair as he pumped himself to orgasm. Seconds later you're flooded with him - a twisty tango of salt and something that could only be defined as Steve. You moan, nearly gagging as it floods your mouth, 

                                                   your tongue,

                                                           your nose,

                                                                    your eyes, 

                                                                            your cheeks. 

When he is done he strokes your face, gasping for air as he tsks, 

“Look at how much of a fucking mess you are. All dressed up in my cum.” 

He walks away, leaves you and his presence leaves you cold, wanting you to wash away the leftover gift he has bestowed onto your face. You want to wipe your face, to rid it off the natural mask it has been decorated in  but you're only wearing a dress, the thick spaghetti straps not enough to cleanse yourself of him. 

Seconds later your face is warm. Him, washing it off you tenderly, whispering in your ear all the while, 

“Now show me how much you want to fight for this cock.” 

When you’re able you blink your eyes open, drink in the way his indigo eyes have gone completely dark, the red sweatshirt thrown off of him. Steve was beautiful, anyone wouldn’t deny it. His arms were thick, muscled, scarred from the many battles he’s endured for over 100 years. Every part of him was hard, rugged - scars over skin that healed back perfectly, trying to disguise the damage. Building up the physical walls to his internal pain. 

You loved him so much. 

Your hand dances over his abdomen and he groans, relishing in your touch. In the adoring way your hands splayed over him. 

God he loved you so much. 

“Strip outta that dress. From now on - you  only wear it when I’m around.” he barely lets out and you nod, obediently. 

Demanding. 

Needy. 

He moves back to the lounge chair in your room, takes a seat. You note the blindfold to his side but that's it as your hands move to find your straps shakily, eyes on him. 

You don’t know why you get so nervous stripping in front of him. 

You knew he adored every inch of your body as much as you did his. Every curve, ever scar, every freckle - he had cherished lovingly. He made a point to tell you every second he could and yet in front of him, like this, you still got shy. Afraid you weren’t good enough. 

He hated that he made you insecure when you were the true goddess of his eye. 

The first strap rolls down the softness of your skin, then the second. You slowly pull them down your torso, your breast springing free and his eyes tighten. You see his otherwise flaccid penis begin to harden but that's all the response you get it. You push the dress  down your body, slowly, eyes never leaving his until its on the floor and you’re in nothing but your underwear. 

“Now those.” his voice is dry, gruff and you nod as you bite your lip, begin to push them down as well. 

When you’re done you are in nothing and your hands move to cross in front of your soft belly.��

“No.” he says and you stop, breathing out uncomfortably. This was his punishment, this was how he was going to make you pay for all the sassy comments on the night. 

In nakedness. 

He drinks you, the seal to his erection springing up toward his torso and you try to fight the blush that heats up your face, feels like it takes over your body. 

To be so open with someone so lovely that loved you was cruelty and he knew it. 

“Lay down,” he demands a second later before pausing, “And throw this on.” 

You watch as the blindfold sails in the air and lands in your hands, perfectly like everything he does, and you nod. You take the delicate strings and place it over your eyes until darkness takes over. Then, carefully, you move backwards until the backs of your knees hit your bed. You take your time moving onto your shared  bed, your breath hitching in anticipation. 

“Lay on your stomach sugar.” the voice comes from another place in the room but you obey, curious to see what he has in store for you as you roll onto your stomach, your face falling into the bedsheets. 

It smelled like you - a tad musky from when you got off thinking of Steve the night before  - and him, clean laundry and the spunky musk that had been on you minutes earlier and you wondered how many times he had gotten off waiting for you - wondering where you had gone off too before the natural investigator searched for you. 

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you forget about your current situation, on the verge of falling asleep when you feel heat caress up and down your back. You seethe, your head lifting as Steve whispers, 

“Relax sugar, going to work out those knots before you ride this fucking cock.” 

You’re unsure what he means - he had just poured fucking wax on your back you were sure of it - before his hands are moving up and down your skin. The wax gives way to something smoother, like oil, and before you can protest your body is hostage to Steve’s hands. They work you - up and down - your shoulders, your back, your buttox, all the way down to your legs. When he's done he flips you over but this time you’re ready for the hot wax that falls on your stomach - that he massages off of you and plays with your breast, before his mouth latches onto a nipple, groaning in desire. 

“Missed these fucking tits of yours. Missed this ass and your pussy. Did you miss me sweetheart? Did you miss my cock? I know you did, can smell you on our sheets. Missed me pounding you dumb?” 

All you could do is whine as he whispers into your skin, his tongue flickering over nipples before biting down, right before your left. 

Then he’s moving lower,

                                     lower,

                                              and lower.

Until his mouth hovers over your center. He inhales you, groans, bites his lip before he's pushing himself into you, massaging your breast and you lift your body, grip the sheets as he presses his tongue between your folds, draws a long lick up to your clit. It tickles and burns, his beard brushing against the tender flesh of your thighs and you sigh contently as your hand finds his hair, guiding him through another lick. 

“Oh sweetheart.” he whispers as he pulls away, presses a kiss on your mound before slapping it, causing you to yelp. 

“Later. After you’ve learned your lesson.” 

He pulls away and you’re fully expecting to be greeted with his cock but instead, seconds later you're being lifted in the air, causing you to squeal. He slaps your ass, 

“Control yourself.” he mutters lowly and you clamp your mouth together as he places you on the ground. You hear him move past you, sitting down in what you can only imagine is the lounge chair again before his fingertips are finding your hips. 

“Come ‘er.” he guides you until you’re straddling him, directing your hands onto his shoulders before he possessively  places his hands on your hips. 

“Want you to ride me blind sweetheart. Want you to show me who you belong to, want you to be a blind little slut while you bring yourself to orgasm.” 

You whine - it sounded absolutely delicious what he wanted but you’re unsure about doing it blind. How would you know where he was? 

You try anyways, blindly starting to squat where you think he is. He helps, directing you towards your prize and you both moan happily as you fall on top of him, him sheathing your insides like a key in a lock. Your walls flutter around him naturally, like it was meant to breathe around his manhood and he moans as his face falls into your chest, before muttering, 

“Show me who I belong to.” 

It's awkward at first, you don't deny that. You rock against him uncertainty, your legs not used to this position and slipping against the slick carpet. He helps guide you until a particular thrust captures your g spot and you throw your head back, moaning, your nails biting into the strong muscles of his shoulder. 

You steady yourself on the floor, snapping your hips and imaging how he looked right now. Meanwhile, Steve had found your breast and beyond teasing your nipples he keeps his hands to himself, drinking in the way you take control. His beard tickles your breast as he praises you, his hands finding the straps to your blindfold and pulling it back. 

The contrast hurts your eyes and you blink a few times before you drink in the way his dark eyes watch you and you bite your lip, grind into him deeper. All the while he praises, 

“That's right. Fuck my cock the way a little slut should, fuck me until you come and cant move. Fuck me until I have nothing else to give you.”

It's a stark contrast,  this Steve but you liked it. You liked when he let go and discounted the scars on his chest, the ones that were bruised a blue and purple sore and painful though he’d never let on. He needed to be this man, the one that could get all his disappointment and hurt and pain out in this way - pleasure twisting with pain. 

When his hand moves to your throat at a particular good thrust you know that he’s had a bad mission. 

A few.                    Bad.                        Missions. 

You can barely get words out in the way he dominates you, riding against your strokes and his hand gripping at the delicate skin 

Steve could snap your throat in half, you always think of that as he gives you a gentle squeeze and you rock against him, his shaft hitting against your clit causing you to purr and move your head back. 

He can’t stay in control anymore. 

He keeps one arm around your neck,  your sweet Steve, while the other finds your hips, begins to drive them into you. It's on a particular strong stroke that you feel your body unnerving, no longer to keep pace on your own, 

“Steve….I ….I...” 

“Yeah baby. You gonna cum for me?  

You’re unable to answer. 

All seven trillion nerves in your body bursting into life, giving way to the way your walls flutter around Steve causing him to groan as you fall back on your own. He prolongs it, releases your neck to play with your clit and just when you didn’t think you could feel any more pleasure you’re hit with another orgasm, one that causes you to screech out a noise Steve has never heard before. 

He watches the way your body erupts in goosebumps, before it involuntarily shakes and your milking him without being consciously aware. It drives him over the edge, the leftover cum stain on the side of your mouth, the way your eyes have rolled back and grip for him, the fluttering of your walls around him. He hollers, fills you up with his cum as he pulls you toward him, hips jerking up as you milk him for all that he is worth. 

When it's over you're both looking at each other, a sheen of sweat covering you both before you bend down to kiss him, nose nudging his own as you whisper, 

“I love you.” 

He smiles against your mouth as he whispers back, 

“I love you too. But you’re mine. Don’t forget that.” 

You smile as you kiss him again, nodding. 

“Of course.”  you whisper against his lips, “Just like you belong to me.” 

________

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[el-dibidibidorado1]

Baby's lollipops

Chapter 1

Steve Rogers x plus size reader

Warnings: smutty

AN: Sorry for the delay my phone screen broke and i have to use my old phone for a while. Hope you enjoy.

Hey you. What are you doing here?" I asked stocking the last of the double sided lollipops. Very popular here.

"I just came to see how my friend and her new boyfriend are getting along." I laughed at Ophelia and tossed her a box of edible underwear for her to stock. She sometimes comes and helps me to get a little more cash in her pocket.

It had been a couple of months since Steve and I had our ice cream date and I've never been so happy. The only thing that has been giving me problems is the tension between us when we have our heavy makeout sessions. Soon as Steve slips his hand down my back I panic and push him off.

"So what's the problem? Scared that he splits you in half." I gasped and threw her a toy making her squirm away.

"No! That's not the problem!" She wiggled her eyebrows.

"So you like them-"

"Ophelia I swear to god that I'm going to kick you ass" she laughed, I've only done it once and I was drunk as hell. I also remembered everything that happened, he was nice and all, but let's say that he didn't last long. How disappointing that night was.

"So what's the dealio?" She began playing with one of the toys like if it was a lightsaber.

"Stop it. And soon as his hand touches my lower back I freak out." I take the toy away and continued stocking but this time more annoyed.

"Y/n he likes you! Like a lot. Plus poor man, you are giving him blue balls." I guess he does like me a lot. No guy has brought me flowers for a whole week or waited until I got out of work so he could take me to dinner or home.

"Y/n. You got a costumer." The bell kept on ringing making me rush to the counter and attending the couple.

"Enjoy" i said and noticed the familiar head of hair facing away from me. He was looking at some Male underwear that had an elephant face on them.

"Need any help, sir?" He jumped and smiled making my heart skip.

"No, no thank you ma'am." I walked over to his open arms and he engulfed me in warmness.

With tip toes I managed to get a kiss earning another smile from him.

"Whatcha looking at?"

"I was just wondering how men get into these." his confused face looked so adorable and it made me chuckle at his confusion.

"Um, you put the underwear on but the man thingy goes into the trunk of the elephant"

His surprised face made me laugh.

"What's so funny?" Ophelia came out to investigate my laughter.

"Nothin just looking" steve said letting me go. We went back to stocking and attending a couple of customers until it was lunch time.

"Where should we go?" Ophelia asked placing the last box of flavored warming lube on the shelf. The store looked nice and stocked ready for the next employee to fuck up as she just brings in friends to stir a mess up.

"Subway?" I shook my head as we had that the other day.

"How bout that place where Tony likes to go?"

"Shawarma?" Steve said putting on his coat and helping me with mine.

"Yeah, we haven't been there for a while."

"Okay let's go!"

We arrived at the restaurant and enjoyed our food but it only lasted for a while until I had to get back to work.

"Are you going back to the shop?" Ophelia nodded but Steve was interrupted by his phone.

"Not me. I have to head back, Captain America duties." He leaned in and kissed me goodbye and ran off.

"Don't forget dinner at my place!" I yelled.

"How could I forget?!"

"Ooooh you guys gonna get it on?"

"Alright, you better run before I officially kick that fat ass!" I ran after her like when we where little. But now that she had brought that up, she is right, he's waited for a while now. Maybe now it's a good time, with a little liquor or wine maybe it would make it easier. I really want him but I'm just self conscious about, me.

"Earth to y/n" Ophelia waves her hand in front of my face. Panicked I look at the clock and noticed that I had another hour before I have to close.

"What's a matter?" I touch my face and sigh deeply. Obviously nervous about what is going to happen!

"Just tired" that's not a lie I've been working full shifts, the boss is in vacation so she trusts me more than the others.

Thank God that I have a day off tomorrow!

"How about, you.." she points at me "go ahead and I'll close. Its only another hour, I know how to use the cash regester and I'll just give you your key tomorrow, how does that sound?" Without hesitation I hug her and get ready to leave.

"You sure?" I have to make sure. She second guess herself often.

"Three...two.." she began counting making me rush out of the shop.

Going to the nearest store I buy a couple of wine coolers and a pizza on the way home.

I took a bath and got clean for him. Today is the day! Today is the day........and he's late. Its 8:37 and our dinner was at 7:00.

I grabbed my phone and texted him

You forgot

I reheated the cold pizza and drank two of the wine coolers. This is the second time he's late and I understand that he is an avenger but a text would be nice. Ah maybe I'm just being dramatic about it.

I went to sleep leaving my window cracked as he liked seeking in.

"I'm late" looking up at her apartment I noticed the lights out. She's probably asleep now, dammit as soon as I saw the text I bolted out of there. Homework with Tony and Bruce always makes me forget the things that I have to do.

"Fuck" I mumbled. I was about to walk back to the tower when I saw her window cracked. I jumped onto the tree and climbed up.

"Oh my.." looking into the window I found her sleeping in those lace underwear that she sells at the shop and a t-shirt that I use.

I open the window and slowly slide in.

"Doll?" I kinda hope that she's awake.

A breeze made me smell the perfume that I love.

"Doll?" I slipped out of my suit, still in my boxers and got in bed.

"Doll, I'm sorry I'm late" I whispered taking in her scent and figure.

She hummed and turned around wrapping herself against me.

"You forgot" she mumbled half asleep.

"You look gorgeous" she opened her eyes and smiled.

"You too" she brought her lips to mine making me fall into a frenzy mood. I wanted her. I wanted her badly.

I pulled her over my lap still having my lips on hers.

The feeling of the lace of her underwear and her smooth warm skin made my blood rush into my legs.

"Tell me to stop" I groaned digging my fingers into her thighs.

"No, not tonight. I need you" she panted against my neck.

"You sure?" I made her look at me. Her pupils where dilated, heartbeat loud and the smell of her perfume getting mixed with her natural sent.

"Y-yes"

I layed her on her back while I got in between her thick legs. Gently running my index finger across the lace making her shiver.

"Let's take this off" her arms rose as I bunch up the shirt and threw it next to my uniform. Her arms covered herself.

"Come here" I mumbled bringing her closer. I spread her arms and tangled my fingers with hers leaning in to kiss the top of her breast. She looked beautiful. I kept on kissing and showing her my love.

Testing my limits i slowly slid my hand into her panties. Her eyes closed and she swallows thickly. She was wet and warm making me grow harder by the second.

------

I felt him aganst my thigh, he's bigger than i thought.

"Can i?" He asked tugging my panties. Oh god the lust in his eyes made nod. I felt myself clenching at nothing and it made me want him more.

As he pulled them off i clashed my lips with his and i pulled his boxers down with my legs. I felt him begining to rub himself against my core.

"I need you...i need you now" my panting speed up.

"But, i don't want to hurt you" he pulled away making me whine.

"You won't." With the strengh i never knew i had i pushed him off and sat on his thighs, grabbing him and began stroking him. A sweet low moan rolled off his lips.

Embarrassing, but some of the videos that i had to put on taught me something. I continued using that hand twisting technique making him moan.

"Stop-oh god stop" his knuckles cracked when he gripped the covers.

"Im going to cum if you dont stop" he choked and a smile appeared on my face and i stopped my movements. He took deep breaths while he rubbed my thighs, trying to get me to get closer to his cock. I gladly obliged.

A soft moan sliped out of me when his hottness touched my core again. I slowly moved my hips when he sat up straight. He wraps his arms around me making me speed up. The quiet wet sound made blush fill my cheeks.

"Cum, cum so i can be inside you" his talk made my pleasure skyrocket and i felt the tight coil snap.

"Oh god!" I brought him closer using all my grip to ease my pleasure. Once more i found myself on my back with Steve hovering over me.

"Ready" he said. The lust in his eyes grew ans i realized that what he asked wasn't a question.

He touches my core ans began spreading my wetness around his cock. Looking down i felt his tip moving againt my entrance. I felt his eyes on me and i looked up, after a few seconds i felt pressure and a bit of sting hit me. Once he was all in i found myself enjoying the strech and pressure he gave.

"Move" i whimper. He pulled out and shoved himself in making me cry in pleasure. His speed was speeding up each stroke. His grunts and growls made me want him more. I just kept on ttying to keep my moans and whimpers down just to hear his.

"You feel so good and tight around me" he threw his head back and i kept on raking my nails on his back.

"Don't stop" i cried. His movements speed up more it felt unhuman. A new feeling bubled up in my stomach.

"Steve im going to cum" i told him and he replied that he was close too.

"Just. A. Few. More" he groaned throwing his head back as i felt pleasure take over and i clenched him. Second later i felt his cock twitch and warmth filled me up.

"Better than i thought" he kissed my lips and slowly pulled out looking at his mess with a smirk.

"I'll be back" he went to my bathroom and brought a wet cloth and helped me clean up. He layed next to me bringing me close.

"I'm a bit hungry" he said making me chuckle.

"Lucky for you..." i rolled over to tje desk next fo me and opened one of the boxes from work. "I got to bring home a box of these." I pulled out one of the double sided lolipops.

Taking off the wrapper i gave him the apple flavored side while i got the strawberry side and i layed comfortably next to him again.

"This aren't that bad." I nod and we began talking about anything again. I was too comfortable in his arms to notice his knee rubbing against my core again.

"Wanna go again" he bit his side of the candy and taking mine out placing it on the night stand.

"Hell yeah" he kissed my lips getting on top of me again.

This is going to be a long night. I don't mind it.

[ticklikeabomb]

One-shot : Bad Guy

Pairing : Steve Rogers (NOMAD) x Fem Plus Size Reader 

Warnings : Language ; DOM Steve ; SMUT -> 18+ !!!

Word Count : 2.2k

A/N : One-shot inspired by the song “Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish and cause I’m a slut for bearded Steve <3

Steve has been on the run for a while now. It felt bittersweet to abandon The Avengers behind, his way of lifestyle but he knew deep down he made the right choice.  Sam and then Natasha followed his footsteps, having his back meaning he wasn't completely alone in the world. Even though, something was missing ; not only Bucky or Peggy but something more meaningful, a sense of danger he always thought was for the good cause. Now he wanted to face danger for thrive, not because it was the a certain way to accomplish good. Just feeling like he could do something bad, something out of his comfort zone. Refusing to sign the Sokovia Accords was the first drop of blood. Once he tasted "blood" he wanted more. The second step was to let his hair and beard grow ; an act of rebellion from the sweetheart looking face and the perfect persona people put on him since, well ever. He was feeling good, probably more than ever and was about to show it. 

A new undercover mission was on the menu for the three former Avengers : infiltrate a famous and private nightclub, gather intel related to a growing terrorist agency and identify the hierarchy of the organization. The potential default? It wasn't just any club. Let's just say that it was the sort of club where latex, whips and orgies were the main course. The Chaud Club. Before, it would have been an obstacle to the famous Captain's moral but today, he was begging for it. The thrive at its essence. The sort of thrive that gets any teenager excited after a short eggplant & peach text.

[Verse 1] White shirt now red, my bloody nose Sleepin', you're on your tippy toes Creepin' around like no one knows Think you're so criminal Bruises on both my knees for you Don't say thank you or please I do what I want when I'm wanting to My soul? So cynical

[Chorus] So you're a tough guy Like it really rough guy Just can't get enough guy Chest always so puffed guy I'm that bad type Make your mama sad type Make your girlfriend mad tight Might seduce your dad type I'm the bad guy Duh

I'm the bad guy

Black pants, dark boots and a leather jacket were the only clothes Steve supported before making his way among the club's regulars. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Natasha in a vivid red leather dress at the bar, while Sam sat at the VIP section feeling like Poseidon surrounded by an ocean of mermaids who fought for his attention. The Moses arriving, the crowd dissipated slightly at every firm step of Steve's; admirative of his chiseled chest and the pure alpha vibe emanating from him or of pure fear, thrill?  No one knew, maybe it was a little of both. Either way he was loving the feeling he provoked. A drink in hand, he scrutinized the crowd. His eyes locking with a potential member of the agency. He was about to close the distance when Natasha cut him through the comms exclaiming the man in question wasn't part of the terrorist organization.

Steve stood now in the middle of the room. Trying to blend in, he grabbed the first arm closest to him and let the woman in front of him wander her fingers on his chest, while grinding on his tight. He played the game. Lifting his head up, his gaze fixed on a gorgeous plus size woman, standing at the corner of the room. It occurred to him that she was out of place, not the same expression painted on her face as the others in the room. He noticed her eyes carefully travel the room, catching every single detail around her. Steve whispered to the comms to his partners, "We may have a third player in the game", before indicating them your position. At the end of his phrase he saw the woman already looking at him with a piercing gaze, a smirk at the corner of her lips.

You looked over the crowd attentively until your eyes landed on your target. His face was currently being eaten out by someone, their tongues intervened, battling for dominance. Who would have thought that one of the most Humanitarian organization member, militating for world peace would consecrate his free time to wild nights at the Chaud Club. Never judge a book by its cover, right. And there he was, a total sub in front of the latex wearing dominatrix, ready to make him comply. Not far from him, the VIP section. Who said Sam Wilson, said Steve Rogers and probably Natasha Romanoff. You quickly found her next to the bar, her disguise working for everyone else except you. You would recognize her anywhere and anyhow. Another swift on your right and there he was, Steve Grant Rogers, a finger pressed on the side of his ear. Before he had the chance to lift his head, you saw Wilson and Romanoff looking your way and knew they had an eye on your persona. "This should be fun", you thought.

Even with the club's neons, you still could distinguish the blue of his eyes once he looked at you. A staring contest took place between you. Neither one of you flinching, even though, the woman grinding on his leg was trying (in vain) to get his attention. A deep and dark chuckle escaped from you, the whole thing entertaining. You marched towards him and jerked the woman from him before capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. Shocked she didn't respond right away. You didn't care, the kiss wasn't for her anyway but for him. To get a reaction of him. You disengaged from her and looked at him ; his eyes dark screaming 'envy' and his teeth clenching on his inferior lip. Closing the gap, you grabbed the back of his neck in a strong grip and caught his inferior lip between your teeth, making him groan. Releasing his lip and neck, you took a step back and winked at him before taking the direction of the bathroom, knowing you had him under your fingers.

I like it when you take control Even if you know that you don't Own me, I'll let you play the role I'll be your animal My mommy likes to sing along with me But she won't sing this song If she reads all the lyrics She'll pity the men I know

It didn't took long before he joined you in the bathroom ; locking the door behind his entry. You both stood there, contemplating each other. Your eyes wandering from the edge of his new hairstyle to the belt of his pants, while his eyes followed the curves of your thick and plum figure. "Are you gonna stand there the rest of the night?", you spoke up. His jaw clenched, the inner battle evident : Fight his instincts and be careful or let go. You chose for him, "You have 3 seconds to make a move." He stepped your way, his body an inch from you and whispered in a raspy voice, "I don't think you have a saying here." You chuckled but it was shut by his plump lips fiercely pressed on yours, his teeth biting yours in a carnal way. Even if you didn't want it, a moan escaped from you making him smile but vanished as fast as it came when you pushed him against the door. He hold you tightly against him, his grip shaping the form of the future bruise on your waist. His lips attacked your neck while you fumbled on his belt but he stopped you. "Nah-han. Strip", he breathed out. Raising an eyebrow you wondered if he really wanted to go that road. "I said STRIP", he exclaimed with a predatory voice. "There we go", you smiled brightly. "Finally you've come to your senses." His hand went to your throat and his teeth on your earlobe, biting it. "If I'll have to repeat again, you will regret it", he mumbled. "I guess I'll do", you replied more than happy to push his buttons.

He groaned and ripped your blouse in pieces before his hand went to your skirt. "No", you stopped him. "You don't want me to go home naked do you?", you smirked. Stepping back, your hands went to your skirt's zipping and turned around, providing him with the perfect view on your round ass. Sensually discarding your skirt, you faced him again and saw the tent in his trousers. You motioned him to come to you and he was in front of you in a second. His beard tickling your neck and collarbone heavenly while his teeth marked you. "You have no idea what you're doing to me", he told you through greeted teeth. You slid down on your knees and waited his command. "Show me", you said sensually. He discarded his pants and boxers down, his thick and veiny shaft in front of your lips. You couldn't help yourself and kissed the base slowly making him moan. Before he could come back to his senses, you wrapped your lips around the present that was his dick and sucked him. "Fuck", he groaned. His hand took hold of your head, stopping your movements to jerk his hips forward, sinfully fucking your face. You were at his mercy and you both loved it.

You pushed him further alternating between licks, kisses and sucking before he pulled you up strongly on your feet and planting his lips on yours in a heated kiss, tasting his pre-cum on your tongue. He lifted you up and dropped you on the counter, his mouth travelling down your body. "Let's see how sweet you really are." He latched on your soaking pussy and dove right in, sucking your clit in his mouth and filing you with two fingers. His moan vibrating down your private part was making you wetter and desperate for more. Your hands reached his hair and managed to pull him deeper but he stopped before you were reaching your climax. Grabbing your hands in his he said, "You don't get to touch me. Is it clear? And you only get to cum when you deserve" With your big mouth you counterattacked, "What are you gonna d-, Ahhhh", your voice cracked once he filled you up without warning. He started slowly but quickened his pace like an enraged animal. Moaning out loud, he pounded in you roughly like it was the last thing to do for survival. "Fuck me harder, please", you moaned. You felt him twitch inside you but knew he wouldn't come before you did. Reaching down, he flicked your bundle of nerves rapidly making you see stars, your orgasm exploding like TNT. He was still thrusting in you at a fast pace and your hands reached his cheeks. "Let go Steve, you can let go", you encouraged him. His eyes widened at the mention of his name before letting go and cumming at full force, renovating your walls with his white juice. Heavily panting, you dropped a chaste kiss on his lips, the evident contraste of that sweet gesture compared to the roughness of the sex you just had.  

[Chorus] So you're a tough guy Like it really rough guy Just can't get enough guy Chest always so puffed guy I'm that bad type Make your mama sad type Make your girlfriend mad tight Might seduce your dad type I'm the bad guy Duh

You quickly put your clothes back on, feeling his presence doing the same behind you. "How do you know me?", he asked. You chuckled and walked at him, stopping inches from his lips. "You really think a beard and longer hair are gonna fool people? Either way I like it", you said before unlocking the door. "Will I see you again?", he asked almost desperately. You smirked and got out of the bathroom, joining the main room. He followed you and stopped in his tracks when you neared the exit. A scream was heard among the crowd and he his gaze landed on the fuss behind him. A corpse on the ground, the man militating for world peace. "What happened?", asked Steve through the comms. "The third player? The woman? She killed him", exclaimed Sam. "That's impossible she was with m-", Steve couldn't finish his sentence because he saw the same looking woman merge with you. 'Enhanced', he thought. He saw you smirk and wink at him before vanishing the place.

He didn't know how to feel. The undercover mission was a total failure and a man got killed but on the other hand, Steve never felt more alive. He didn't know what the future hold for him but there was one thing he knew :  his path would cross yours again.

[Bridge] I like when you get mad I guess I'm pretty glad that you're alone You said she's scared of me? I mean, I don't see what she sees But maybe it's 'cause I'm wearing your cologne

[Outro] I'm a bad guy I'm a bad guy Bad guy, bad guy I'm a bad

* gifs not mine, credit to owners*

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