#steve rogers lemons

[anika-ann]

Seven Minutes (S.R.)

Type: TWO-SHOT, independent, canon-ish

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 8700

Summary: You’re not obliged to go to that party, but you go because it’s a rare occasion during which most of your fellow Avengers meet and have some fun together. Until someone suggests a stupid teenage game. Until you and Steve end up locked in a closet together and things take a turn you couldn’t have possibly predicted.

Maybe you should have. Whenever Tony or – god forbid – Loki gets involved, it’s bound to end up in a disaster. Only this time, the victim of the shenanigans might be your heart.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, (unprotected sex, fingering, glimpses of size kink and praise kink, soft hints of D/s, mirrors, possessiveness;), alcohol, a drop of angst, language (a lot)

A/N: written for @jtargaryen18 Halloween challenge. Prompt in the final notes. I toyed with it so much that it might have been cheating 😅 dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

Part 1: Seven Minutes in Hell

“I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out.” ― Ally Carter, Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover

The party had died down; or as Tony said, only the fittest had survived. Banner, drunk on Asgardian liquor, let out a sensible chuckle at the words and fell asleep as he was, sprawled over one of the couches in the communal area, which looked more like a war zone than an aftermath of a giant party.

It wasn’t the mess of empty bottles and glasses and cushions having been thrown around at some point. It was the skeletons. The fake blood. The few smashed pumpkins, literally beaten to a pulp. Luckily, the one single torn-off arm which some idiot had smuggled in despite the strict ban on those, based on the fact that at least half of the guests suffered some form of a PTSD, had been kicked under the bar and covered by a cloth as soon as you had found it. Tony, despite already finding himself in a drunken haze, agreed to kick the asshole who had brought it out. Steve had shot you a grateful look when you had asked Tony to do so. Bucky – thankfully – never learned about the tasteless joke ever taking place.

Unlike the space, the Avengers had an aura of comfort around them. Lying around, some chatting sleepily, chuckling every now and then, some talking animatedly with a few friendly nudges under the ribs, they lounged in the area and welcomed the 1 a.m. announcement by Friday with relative grace.

Except for Tony, who booed and proceeded to glare at every single conscious Avenger present, one by one; Natasha and Clint comfortable on one couch, Steve and you on the other, Thor filling out a huge armchair, Rhodey looking a bit small in the other in comparison, Wanda practically lying in a lounge pug with Vision hovering by her like a guard, Helen and Maria crossed legged on tiny tabourets, Sam and Bucky, having been fighting each for their space on the couch, now sitting carelessly with Bucky’s feet against Sam’s thigh. And then there was Loki, spinning slowly in his egg chair he had charmed up and kept up in the air with his magic, Pepper having reluctantly sat down in the other which Loki had graciously made for her with a snap of his fingers.

“Seriously, guys! Just… boooo! This party is dying! We need to shake things up!” he called out theatrically, standing in the middle of the Sleepy Hollow with judgement written all over his face. Then, he lowered his voice, a wicked smile twisting his lips. “Do you wanna play a game? I do.”

At least four distinct snorts sounded around the group at his poor impression.

“Really, Tones?” Natasha questioned, probably referring to both his acting skills and the suggestion.

“I do want to play a game. It’s called let’s go to bed,” Bucky groaned, rolling his shoulders and throwing his feet back to the ground, startling Sam in the process.

“The night is still young, Barnes,” Clint huffed despite his eyelids barely staying open as he kept twisting a rubber imitation of femur between his fingers. “You sound like an old man.”

“Oh? That coming from you really says something,” Sam pointed out, a good-natured smile curling his lips; at the same time, Tony hummed: “Or a kinky one.”

“I must say I agree with Stark this once,” Thor boomed, nodding thoughtfully as several voices groaned at the gleeful grin lighting Tony’s face. “There seems to be a lull to these revels and it is indeed too soon to retire to bed. The sun has not even risen yet!”

A single clap of hands and Tony was gesturing towards Thor. “See! The Asgardian agrees with me. I must be right.”

“I bet he’s already regretting his words,” Steve noted, drawing a small chuckle from you.

In all honesty, you would be inclined to agree with Bucky on this one. Going to bed sounded heavenly, but there was one huge disadvantage to bed compared to the Sleeping Beauty Castle the Halloween party had turned into: the company wasn’t nearly as good. You weren’t greedy – you wouldn’t need all the Avengers present to come cuddle you in bed. Just one would do. The one whose thigh occasionally brushed yours as you talked about anything and everything, all kind smiles and a slightly tipsy spark in his gorgeous blue eyes which were complimented by the treacherous midnight shade of his one-size-too-small shirt.

“Now, now, Captain. The other Asgardian agrees too,” Loki’s voice slowly sneaked in, something in his tone causing your heart to skip a startled and yet excited beat.

Loki was… a friend. After trying hard for redemption, he had begun to join the Avengers business on occasion, his magic always proving to be of enormous help. His humour was a little wicked and twisted, but his heart was not nearly as dark as people had believed – or even he himself had. You sensed Steve’s wariness towards him still and understood his reasons; and secretly, you revelled in the worry Steve expressed whenever you spent time with Loki, which the golden-hearted captain feared you did so with a little too much trust.

The only reason why you wouldn’t throw it back to Steve’s face that he was questioning your judgement was the fact he had admitted he did actually not do that, ever – but simply cared for your safety – and that fact that he attempted to be as respectful about it as possible. That and the heartwarming knowledge that he thought of you, one way or the other. Maybe him being the person who was giving out the gentlest hugs could have played a role as well. Or perhaps even that you had – like a silly, silly girl – fallen for him long time ago and would let him not only get away with murder at this point, but probably also ask him if he needed any help to hide the body. Because you’d either believe him it was for a good reason that he had committed the crime, his moral compass just about perfect, or simply because he deserved the most loyal friends and loved ones he could get.

The sudden heavy thud snapped you back to present, causing you to jump in your seat. Steve’s warm hand covered yours in an instant, gaze trailing to you to make sure you were alright. As he gently squeezed your hand, you glanced at him and shot him a grateful smile.

He let go as soon as your gaze returned to the source of the noise: a large closet now standing a few feet from the seating area.

“How about this?” Loki suggested, calmly beckoning to the piece of furniture having just appeared out of this air.

“Do you… want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Wanda, suddenly wide awake at the stronger present of magic, questioned.

“Why not? I was under the impression Midgardians enjoyed this game during a party.”

“What are we, thirteen?” Sam asked, eyebrows creased sceptically.

“…going on thirty? Good movie,” Clint hummed, his grin showing pride at his reference.

“Ew, no-“

“Do you even know what Seven Minutes in Heaven is about?” Natasha asked, her expression intrigued; you had no doubt her mind had already begun to race as she tried to decipher the trickster’s motivations.

“Yes. I am quite pleased by the concept. If we play, perhaps I will be lucky enough to spend some private time with lovely Lady Speedy.”

Your eyebrows shot up as your gaze found Loki’s, a provocative smirk twisting his mouth. Interesting. Maybe even intriguing. Except it was not; at least not for the reason one might think. Loki was not at all interested in you. If he had, you would have known without a shadow of doubt. He wasn’t one for subtlety; if he had had an eye on someone, he would make sure to court them, persistently so. Or perhaps he would simply take.

No, Loki had not spent time thinking of you, much like you hadn’t spent time thinking about him.

There was only one Avenger whose company and love you longed for and had for the longest time – and you wouldn’t be surprised if Loki knew. What you hoped he had no idea about was the fact that you could have had it, once.

You could have had Steve, but you had mucked it up, too shocked to yes when he had asked. It had felt too fast, too surreal to be even happening – Steve Rogers asking you out for a cup of coffee – too good to be true.

Naturally, in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he had been too polite to disrespect your decision or let it negatively impact your blooming friendship back then; he had not made a single attempt to ask you out again since. In return, you had been too embarrassed to explain yourself – to explain that you felt like the luckiest girl on Earth, if not in the universe, that you would have jumped at the chance if he as much as hinted he was still interested – and in a very mature way, you never mentioned it again.

That was fine. You and Steve had become friends. Perhaps even good enough friends to mention it as an awkward memory; and only that, because you doubted that he was still carrying a torch for you. He had even briefly dated with Sharon Carter after the incident; he clearly moved on, because there was nothing to move on from. You had barely known each other back then. It wasn’t like you broke his heart or something. You just decided mess up what could have been a beautiful relationship.

Instead, you had a comfortable caring friendship. That counted as a win, yes?

And if you ended up in a closet with him for seven minutes now, you would, once again, acted like mature adults and… hug or something, yes? You would not give in into some stupid game and kiss him just because you’d have an excuse to do so. You would not be tempted to--- no. You respected Steve too much for that. You would never make anything to make him uncomfortable; if you had, you would not only not deserve to call yourself his friend, but even a decent human being.

And you were not thirteen anymore. You knew better. The awkwardness would not be worth it; the rejection would not be worth it. Losing the gift of Steve’s friendship would most definitely not be worth a few seconds of Heaven, of testing whether his lips were be as soft and gentle as you thought, if they tasted like you dreamed of. Knowing whether he would respond, whether he would kiss you, whether maybe, just maybe, there could be the faintest traces of seeing you differently than a friend and colleague.

No, the stakes were be too high.

“Hm… I think we should play,” Natasha said, earning at least five shocked stares, including yours.

“What?!”

“We should definitely not,” Steve protested, leaning forward with a very displeased frown, his eyes burning as he glared murderously at Natasha for entertaining the trickster’s whim.

“I mean… why not, after all? Two people in a closet, in cramped space? What is not to enjoy?” Bucky added, clearly changing his mind about going to bed. He was next at the receiving end of Steve’s disapproval.

“Ask a claustrophobic, I’m sure they’d come up with a reason or two,” you hummed, earning a sardonic ha ha from the dark-haired supersoldier.

“I mean… who knows. Could be magical,” Tony wiggles eyebrows.

“Are we back to 13 going to 30?”

Wanda, Pepper, Maria and Sam said NO with impressive coordination.

“I must say I am intrigued as I cannot quite see the appeal. It would be an enriching experience for me to understand. What is the worst that can happen?” Vision questioned.

“You did not just ask that,” Sam complained.

“Please tell me it’s just a closet and not some sort of a portal to Narnia?” Pepper chimed in, Loki’s smile surprisingly pleasant as he turned to her.

“It is simply a closet, my dear Lady Potts.”

“I don’t know, you guys, it still sounds like a pretty bad idea,” you chuckled nervously as you felt the air shift towards agreement to participate in this ridiculous game.

“Seconded,” Steve grunted by your side – but it was too late.

“Too bad, I’m getting an empty bottle,” Tony blurted out as he practically sprang after the nearest bottle indeed.

It was the perfect opportunity to walk away; it was the last chance to get out.

You didn’t.

Perhaps you didn’t want to look like a coward. Maybe you didn’t want to be a party pooper. You guessed you hoped they would scrape the idea after one round, because they would realize the game was lame and boring. Maybe, just maybe, a little part of you wondered if something interesting would come out of it – and you didn’t want to miss it.

Those were the things running through your head when you walked side by side with Steve, cursing the universe or some sort of physics cheat Tony had pulled or maybe Loki’s magic. Because of course it happened. Of course, the bottle pointed at you – and then on Steve.  

Could have been worse, you reasoned with yourself. Could have been… yeah you didn’t know who. Bruce who might turn in to the Hulk while in there was asleep, so he never was an option.But it was too late to back out now.

Steve, ever the gentleman, let you walk in first, offering a hand, a gentle smile on his face as he rolled his eyes at your friends being children. You squeezed his hand and smiled back, grateful – and calm.

Yes, being with Steve in such tight space with the knowledge what the game was about sent a few tempting thoughts into your head – but you’d be fine. You’d just chat, privately; you had done that countless times before, late night talks and maybe even your head resting on his shoulder when you got too sleepy to sit straight. You’d be fine.

Steve climbed up after you so you stood face to face, flashing you one last comforting smile. And then Tony closed the door behind you, leaving you in utter darkness.

Your first thought was that the inside of the closet was a lot smaller than it had appeared from the outside.

Your second thought was that perhaps that was not the fault of the closet or your eyes; the sheer width of Steve’s shoulders and other proportions of his body which had starred in too many of your dirty dreams and innocent fantasies alike were to blame instead.

Your third thought was that the air was becoming a little too hot and heavy to breathe a little too fast and that you weren’t certain you could last seven full minutes in this space where it felt you might as well already be wrapped in Steve’s arms. The subtle tones of his woodsy cologne, the heat radiating off his skin, the faintest light peeking through the door reflecting in his slightly ruffled hair and in his eyes, caressing his features the very way you always wished.  

Your fourth thought was, incidentally, less of a thought and more of an emotion – a red hot one at that. The flash of anger that ripped through you honestly took you by surprise, and hit you too hard to be ignored.

Because this was stupid.

This game was the stupidest thing possible that your friends could come up with. Steve was entirely stupid with his brilliance and courage and care and morality and outrageous handsomeness and most of all with giving you hope once that you could be good enough for him, that there was a glitch in the universe large enough that would somehow made the two of a potential couple. And you, oh you. You were the most stupidest of it all. To allow yourself to hope as well. To not let go of that fleeting seconds when the light of Steve Rogers was in your reach and you stood there like a dumbass without grabbing it, never speaking of it again then and yet still carrying a torch for him for two idiotic years.

Maybe if one of those things had been different – most likely of all, you – you could have been making out now. Maybe, you would feel his gentle touch in these shadows; or maybe hungry touch even. Maybe, because your friends were nosy assholes and drama queens, they would have banned you from participating in this in fear that they would have to disinfect the closet after you got full seven minutes in here.

Instead, all you had was a tentative brush of Steve’s hand to your elbow and the kind rumble of his voice, laced with worry.

“Hey, Shines. Are you okay?”

Ah yes. Another maddening thing: Steve’s sweet nickname for you. Where others called you Speedy – because of how quickly you had finished the intelligence test and made your way up in the Initiative – Steve had expressed his distaste in the nickname because just around the same time, he had learned about the modern term “speed”. Apparently, he did not like the idea of calling you something that reminded him of amphetamines. So instead, he had once admitted, he converted it in his head to the speed of light. And so Shines had been born.

The affection he sometimes spoke the single word with – the affection you longed for and mostly only imagined – was perhaps even more idiotic than your lack of reaction to his slightly shy advance two years ago.

For someone with your IQ score, you really were surrounded by stupidity and radiated it generously yourself.

The chuckle that escaped you tasted bitter on your tongue. “Why, sure. You?”

Even with the limited amount of light, you could see Steve’s searching gaze clearly. You could practically hear his mind whirling, wondering where the sudden ire had come from.

In an instant, you felt bad for snapping. Your trouble and your insecurities nor your anger at yourself were something he deserved to bear consequences for.

“I’m… fine,” he said after a while, kinder than you would have in his place. “Is there anything I can do to make the ‘sure’ better?”

Yeah, you thought. There were quite a lot of things; either put his mouth on yours – or elsewhere on your body, you weren’t picky – or maybe stop being so damn good of a person and being so damn loveable all the time when he didn’t mean anything beyond friendship by his behaviour.

You swallowed the once again bitter note and charmed a smile, your hand covering the back of his, still softly resting on your elbow.

“No. But thank you. I’m… sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he replied, eyes still searching. And soft. So annoyingly soft and caring.

You lowered your gaze and gulped, not finding it in yourself to respond. What could you even say to that?

The problem with Steve was that even if you weren’t looking at him, you could still feel him looking at you. At rare times, it felt like a punch, if he got truly angry with you – when you did something he considered stupid and dangerous as if you hadn’t been quite inspired by his own bravery – but at other times, like this, it felt like a fluffy blanket and a warm cup of tea pressed to your hands when the blues came knocking on your door.

No words were spoken for a long minute. And then, like you should have known they would, Steve’s arms carefully pulled you to his chest and wrapped you in a hug which felt just like his gaze a moment ago; except this feeling was real. He sucked up all your anger and frustration you into his chest with ease, breathed in once, then twice and unlike you, he simply let it go, allowing you to soak in his affection instead. 

You could cry at the sweet gesture. Sweet, sweet Steve: deadly force, righteous passion, beautiful soul and infinite kindness locked in a body of a gentle giant.

“Thank you,” you muttered into his shirt and you could hear the smile in his voice when he responded, arms tightening just a fraction.

“Any time.”

You felt your lips curl up in a smile too, allowing yourself to bask in the goodness he was. Strong embrace, but kind. Almost too hot to touch, like a sun, but somehow still feeling like sunshine instead. Lips soft as they touched your hairline, fingers gently running through the length of your hair-

You stiffened. It felt too good; it felt like what you wanted but didn’t actually have. Steve Rogers did not kiss you; not your cheek, not your lips, not your forehead or the crown of your head.

Or at least he never had before.

“Steve?”

His smile was a little bashful as he retreated, his hand sliding down your hair, holding your chin in gentle hold you could easily escape should you want to. But you didn’t. Why would you when his thumb caressed your cheek, eyes firmly holding your gaze even as his smile was slightly shaky?

You didn’t dare to stop whatever this was; because this was what you wanted. Whether this was Steve giving into the game only or anything else, you’d take it. Because you didn’t start it, you didn’t force him into something you wanted. He initiated it; he held you as if you were something precious all on his own. If this behaviour expired in a few minutes, well. At least you would have a sweet memory to cherish, wouldn’t you?

“I’ve been thinking of you.”

Your eyes must have been wide – even ridiculously so – at the admission, your heart like a thunder in your chest and in your ears. You… certainly you must have misheard. You must have misinterpreted what he was trying to say. That was not right. Was it?

“…you have?”

His smile widened, eyes full of good-natured amusement. “I’m always thinking of you, Shines. I’m honestly surprised I’m keeping it so subtle that you are this shocked by the revelation.”

You licked your suddenly dry lips. You must have breathed in something. You had too much to drink. Tony sneaked some edibles into the refreshments – yes, that had to be it.

But then the even more rational part of your brain chimed in: you could never dream up something as detailed. And Steve would have been immune to the drugs. He hadn’t drunk too much of the Asgardian liquor from Thor’s flask either.

You were both perfectly sober at this moment – as insane and surreal as it felt. Did Steve really…? You swallowed the slightly hysterical giggle trying to claw its way up your throat.

“You wouldn’t… you wouldn’t make fun of this, would you?”

Steve’s eyes grew serious even as they remained kind.

“No. I wouldn’t,” he assured you, the slightest hint of offence in his tone. “You’re just… you’re everywhere. I try to focus on work, but you’re always on my mind. That smile, those pretty eyes. This… this drive and passion you have and turn it into hard and good work and kindness. Those gorgeous, gorgeous lips…”

You licked again them on instinct, not missing the fact that Steve’s gaze flickered down at the motion.

No way. No way.

You had hit your head. This was a fever dream, this… this was all you wanted and needed, it couldn’t possibly become true all of sudden. Right?

But if this was a fever dream, you might as well enjoy it. If it was reality, even the better. Because Steve Rogers was serious in matters of heart – he was most definitely not pranking you. So if he was saying he had been thinking about you, you had no reason to doubt him.

There rarely ever was a reason to doubt Steve Rogers.

“I… I think about you too,” you reluctantly admitted, his lips suddenly so, so close you could feel his breath when he spoke only one word in response.

“Good.”

The first touch to your lips was nothing but tentative; nothing but temptation and yet everything you could ever want. His hand cradled your face like precious porcelain and his kiss was like one of an artist asking his muse to allow him into her favour. Warm and soft; his lips were as soft and gentle as you had always thought they would be. The tender brush of his fingertips to your face however made your first kiss all the sweeter, as did his smile and the sparkle in his eyes when he released your lips. The giddy feeling burst inside your chest with intensity you couldn’t possibly contain.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m gonna have to agree with good,” you whispered; and before you could feel silly, Steve’s low chuckle echoed in the limited space, his thumb tapping your lips.

“Yeah.”

That was the only warning you received before his mouth were back on yours, letting you taste that smile of his; his arms, still around your waist, pulled you closer against the hard planes of his chest, the sensation reminding you that you could in fact too do more than simply lay your hand on him. He appreciated your initiative with a content hum, the vibration against your lips sending pleasant shivers down your spine and into your belly. When he deepened the kiss, his touch on you growing firmer, angling your head to his liking, you felt like you could melt from the inside, all nerves on the most beautiful fire.

Your startled sound when your back bumped into the wall of the closet drowned in Steve’s mouth, your parted lips but an invitation for him. The sensations were quick to rise into your head like a heady wine and suddenly only seven minutes in whichever alternate reality you felt as if you had entered seemed unfairly short. Your fingers flexed in the material of Steve’s shirt, his large palm sliding to your hip and squeezing. His hips rocked ever so slightly against yours and the semi-hard bulge pressing against your core had you whimper his name just as his lips moved to your jaw.

“Love hearing my name like this from your lips, Shines,” he whispered like a secret into your skin, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh and nearly causing your knees to buckle. I’ll say it as much as you want, you wanted to say, the words stuck in your throat, only a breathy Steve coming out again, much to his apparent delight. “That’s it. Wanna hear it more… but not here.”

The flash of a rationality was brief; before it could take, his lips were back on yours and you felt yourself falling, leaning into his touch, hands wandering over his exquisite body, hips rutting forward at the beautiful, beautiful groan your touch elicited from him.

I did that. He wants me, he wants me like this. I want him. I need him.

The simple thoughts occupied your brain, a last portion of coherency you managed as his palm slid to your ass with purpose and pressed you against his hardness in a promise of what was to come. You decided that you could die a happy woman right there and that you needed his mouth on your more than you needed oxygen; you grabbed onto his face, pulling his lips back to yours, rewarded by a deep kiss and both of his hands grabbing your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with a little too much vigour.

You succumbed to the pleasure of his touch, head spinning, the world passing by in a blur.

It didn’t matter how you got into his room next; it didn’t matter, not when his hands were on you again, an absurdly polite can I? as his dextrous fingers slid the strap of your dress off your shoulder, a kiss to every inch of the newly revealed skin, leaving nothing but hunger for more in their wake.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” he praised as he mouthed at your skin, the new endearment causing your heart to tremble, stomach fluttering pleasantly. “The times I imagined this, imagined you�� turn around, Shines.”

You’d swear that you would let Steve Rogers get away with murder; but asking you to turn away from his hot lips, that was toeing the line of insanity.

“Steve-“

“Shhh… I’ve got you,” he cut of your protests, strong hands simply spinning you around.

He rewarded you for the lack of resistance by placing his hand over your stomach, skin hot even over the thin fabric, pressing you back against his chest and his more than evident arousal, lips attaching to the column of your neck, sliding the other strap of your dress down. Instinctively, you leaned your head back, exposing your throat to him, a small but sharp nip of teeth sending a fresh wave of arousal into your core.

Long fingers slid up your throat, turning your head so his lips could meet yours again, demanding and yet so giving, hand inching from your belly down your thigh, toying with the hem of your dress and causing your breath to hitch.

God, you needed him. You wanted him in every way possible, but if this was what came before he’d take you out, you had zero problem with that. You needed to feel him.

The please escaping your newly freed lips sounded almost pathetic to your ears, but Steve clearly disagreed with your assessment.

“Oh sweetheart, you sound so pretty like this… and look at you,” he rasped, nudging you to actually look ahead, only for you to realise you were now facing the tall mirror of his closet, gaze setting on your own face, dominated by the kiss-swollen lips and pupils blown up by lust. “Gorgeous… and you’ll look even more beautiful when you’re coming apart for me. First on my fingers and then…”

You shuddered when his fingers finally slid under your skirt, caressing the lace of your thigh-highs, chest vibrating against your back with an appreciative hum. Your gaze strayed to Steve’s face, only to find his eyes laser focused on your face in the mirror, flashing darkly when his fingertips found the soaked fabric of your panties and pressed.

“So wet for me, Shines. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me. Can’t wait to make you mine… you want that, don’t you?” he whispered, your lips parting wordlessly and at the very moment, he pushed the offending fabric to the side and dipped his index finger in your slick. He stroked a few times, coating his fingers in your essence and entered you with two with laughable ease. You pushed your hips forward on instinct, already needing more.

“Steve, oh god-“

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, free hand pressing your back to his front, hardness digging into our ass. “I can’t wait to see you take my cock. You’ll be as pretty as a picture…”

Vainly wriggling against his strong hold because that was exactly what you wanted, you caught his smile in the mirror, his lips pressing softly against your temple as his fingers begun pumping in and out of your tight channel, stealing the breath from your lungs. Resigned and secretly thrilled by his dominance, you leaned against his chest, letting your head fall back against his strong shoulder, praying he’d give you more soon.

Instead, he pulled his fingers out altogether, painting your inner thighs with your slick, stepping back, leaving you cold and empty.

“St-“

His hand landed gently on your shoulder, his other hand easily sliding the zip of your dress down your back, letting it fall to the ground. Standing in front of the mirror in nothing but your stockings, soaked panties and lace bra, you shuddered under Steve’s hungry gaze; but at the same time, the adoration and admiration shining from his gaze even made your stomach flip and stopped your hands from self-consciously covering yourself at least a bit.

You weren’t shy. You weren’t ashamed of your body; but goodness, Steve’s eyes trailing the length of it, taking in every inch of bare skin and appreciative of how the fabric hugged the parts still covered made you feel like a goddess. A muse.

His gaze was hypnotic as his eyes met yours in the mirror again, his smile soft before it earned a lustful edge.

“You’re a piece of art, Shines…” He stepped back to you, lips attaching back to your neck and his fingers pushed the panties down and let them slide down your legs, hand sprawling over your pubic bone and teasing your core with his fingers again. “And I’m going to appreciate that in every way I know… but you’re gonna watch. I wanna watch you as you fall apart for me, and I want you to see how beautiful you look when I make you mine. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

You didn’t think. You nodded at the promise of pleasure, instantly rewarded by three fingers stretching you, one of your hands landing on his wrist to keep him inside, the other grabbing at his head behind you. You felt his smile against your neck before he sucked on your skin, setting a punishing pace, this time letting you meet his advances. The sight of his large hands over you was insanely erotic; his size and strength captured in a repetitive picture, your muscles contracting as you tried to encourage him to give your more. The pleas seamlessly blending with his name were falling from your lips as the pressure inside you built and built, the wicked curl of his fingers nearly having you reach for the stars.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Steve-“  

“Watch, sweetheart,” he reminded you feverishly, the blue of his irises nearly swallowed by his blown pupils, dark, pleased and unabashedly on you taking his fingers one moment, on your face contorted with pleasure next, the sheer hunger in his gaze aimed at you only adding fuel to the heat in your abdomen.

You tried to keep your eyes on your pair, you truly did, just to please him, just to gain more. It earned you a whispered praise to your ear, a sucking kiss on your throat and circling motions on your clit.

That had you were done for. Your eyes fluttered close as you clenched around Steve’s fingers with a breathless cry, ecstasy exploding inside you and lighting your body on fire.

You could feel Steve’s burning gaze on your still, but he didn’t push you again, didn’t deny you just because you didn’t give him what you couldn’t at the moment, too wrapped in your bliss. Of course, he didn’t. He was still Steve; much filthier than you imagined, but still himself. Warm and safe, holding you close when his motions slowed down, prolonging your pleasure, still supporting your weight when your legs nearly gave out. Chuckling silently with an adoring soft kiss to your jaw when you breathed out a thank you, thinking about the fact he caught you, probably sounding as if you were thanking him for absolutely ruining you with his fingers only, not so subtly showing you that you might not survive when he’d turn it up a notch and actually took you.

“You’re beautiful, doll,” he whispered into your hair, carefully pulling out his fingers as not to hurt you. “Even more beautiful that I imagined.”

You shuddered, unable to respond with words, turning around and chasing his lips instead. He obliged and kissed you sweetly, wrapping his arms around you close, only now having you realize he was still fully clothed himself. And that the way his had cock pressed against his slacks must have been painful at this point. For that reason alone – that he put your pleasure before his, as you knew he would – you would sink to your knees in an instant if your core wasn’t already throbbing for him.

“I want you,” you said against his mouth, revelling in his smile and the playful nip on your lower lip he graced you with upon your admission.

“Good. Because I need you. I need to see those pretty lips parted for me and unable to speak anything but my name when I fill you up so well you’ll never even think about another man again,” he said slowly, letting every heavy syllable sink into your skin and have your already racing heart nearly give out – and letting your lips loose.

“Yes. Please.”

When you suddenly found yourself in the air, held firmly in his arms and carried to the bed, you couldn’t find the shame in you to be bashful about your needs.

Because when he sunk into you and delivered on his promises, you felt like you entered another plane of existence. When his hands grabbed onto you, his body an art piece you could feast your eyes on and touch, you suddenly understood his need for a mirror, for a glimpse from every angle, the absolute beauty of your bodies together as one, of seeing him lose himself to pleasure of his own.

His chants of endearments, praise and mine echoed in your ears, your lips indeed only remembering to speak his name, whisper it and scream it. When he lifted you to your high two more times, filling you with his spent to make you his indeed, you knew that you would be his forever; you had been for a long, long time.

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine…”

“Yours, I am yours.”

Blinking your eyes open, you slowly realized you never knew darkness could feel so violent to your eyes. Steve’s deeply concerned gaze was firm on you, frown settled in his brows, both hands on your biceps holding you as if you were about to pass out any second.

His relieved breath brushed over your face, shoulders sagging.

“Thank god, Shines. I was starting to get worried. Are you alright? It’s like you went to a completely different place for a moment there.”

Why were you standing? You had been just lying down, the heat of Steve’s skin seeping into yours from your back and his arm wrapped around your middle as you had fallen asleep.

“What?” you rasped, feeling the ghost of the soreness in your throat as you nearly lost your voice having screamed his name. You blinked again as the image of his beautifully red parted lips trembling with your name flickered in front of you, disappearing just as fast – replaced by him growing worried by the minute.

In a closet. You were in a closet. The sound of idly chat and chuckles dimmed by the walls of the closet reached your ears. The party was still in a sleepy swing; a stupid game was still on.

The realization was like a bucket of icy water dumped on your heated body, all-consuming confusion swallowing all your thoughts.

But… how? You--- that wasn’t- you had been to Steve’s room. He had—- he had kissed you, right here, a dream coming true when he admitted he was still thinking of you and was ready to act on it, his hot soft lips, his hands, deliciously long thick fingers, wickedly dextrous as they sneaked between your legs, opened you up for his--- he had stretched you so good, in every way imaginable, his gaze so dark as he watched you both in the mirror, so sweetly and devilishly delighted at filling you up to the brim, making you his-  

“Okay, that’s it, Shines. We’re out of here-”

“No!” you blurted out, horror seizing you at the mere thought of coming out to the light right now. With you face flushed; with your core painfully empty and slick even as the aftershocks of your orgasms, having felt so real, turned from echo of pleasure to mortifying all-consuming shame. “No, no, it’s fine! I’m fine. I just… I must have had too much to drink and zoned out.”

“You didn’t drink that much,” Steve opposed swiftly, his gaze so unnerving, and could he just stop, stop looking at you like he cared, so sweet and nice and so frustratingly not yours even if the affection in his gestures felt all the same as in whatever fucked-up dream experience you just had just been through. “We should-“

“Please, don’t-- they’re never gonna let us live this down if we bail,” you argued lamely, unconvincing even to your own ears, feeling tears burn in your eyes and desperately trying to stop them from showing.

“Fuck that. It’s just a stupid game.”

‘Fuck, look at you. I can’t wait to see you take my cock. You’ll be as pretty as a picture…’ echoed in your ears, so crystal clear you would have sworn it had happened – but what other evidence did you need that it was just a wild creation of your mind?

Steve didn’t love you. Steve didn’t want you this way. It had never happened. You were still in this closet in the dark, blinded by the light his persona, this time annoyed since the light only hurt your eyes.

And you heart. Your stupid little foolish heart.

“…yeah. Yeah, just a stupid game. Just… so so stupid,” you muttered, no longer talking about the game – and unable to stop the tears from coming anymore.

You laughed bitterly, understanding nothing, but not caring, even more irked at the alarmed expression on Steve’s face when he noticed the few glistening drops rolling down your cheeks.

“Shines… what is it? What can I do to make it better?”

His hands, having been burning a brand onto your biceps, shifted, one caressing your arm, the other rising to your face; and you couldn’t take it. You couldn’t take the touch, not when it meant less than what you wanted and needed, not when his fingertips brushed your cheek as if it was something precious to him – not when you knew it wasn’t.

You stepped back out of his reach hastily, your back hitting the wall; but not without catching the flash of hurt on his face when you rejected the affection and comfort he was offering.

“I’m sor-“ The words died in your throat, the sudden almost electric shift in the air making your hair stand on end.

As fast as if you snapped your fingers, Steve was no longer looking at you.

In fact, he wasn’t looking at anything.

Your stomach dropped.

“…Steve?”

Your whisper was tentative, but your step forward was not. Heart thundering in your chest, your eyes roamed his suddenly expressionless face. What the hell was happening?

Gulping, you reached out for his hand with yours; but as you squeezed, his hand remained limp by his side.

“Steve, can you hear me?”

Frustration and shame swiftly forgotten, your fingers slid to his wrist, feeling for his pulse. It fluttered under your touch like a hummingbird; but with how fast your own heart was beating, it might have been that you could feel your own.

You went to a completely different place for a moment there, you recalledhis words, real words, right after you found him observing you with concern rather than pulling you to his bare chest after an intense session of fucking.

Whatever had happened to you, be it blamed on alcohol or anything else, was clearly happening to him now. That or you accidentally triggered some kind of a flashback with the way you had reacted. If you had, you’d never forgive it yourself; but you’d have time to feel like an asshole later. Now, Steve needed your help. Fast.

Except you had no idea what was actually taking place in here, let alone how to solve it.

“Yeah, fuck this game.”

You were not going to stay here another second. Not when Steve, sweet kind Steve who deserved the world, was stuck in some strange trance you might have caused.

You were just about to bang on the door of the closet with all your might when a gasp for air had your head snap back to Steve so quickly you almost gave yourself a whiplash.

Your hands were on his arms to steady him before you could think about it twice. Relief flooded your body when his gaze unmistakably found yours, even if he stared at your wide-eyed, clearly rattled by whatever had just happened.

“Shines?” he rasped, blinking a few times as if to adjust his sight to the darkness again, following the lines of your arms to where you were holding onto him with confusion. You swiftly dropped your hands, his frown only deepening at that.

“Sorry. Are you okay?”

“I--- I think so?”

The uncertainty in his voice and the suddenly unreadable emotion in his face made a lump grow in your throat.

“Yeah, the fact that this sounds more like a question than an answer really tells me you were right,” you stated, feeling small as you saw Steve had trouble finding his footing. As his friend, you had the privilege to see him vulnerable more often than the general public, but that didn’t mean the fact he seemed clueless and slightly lost now was still unsettling. “We should get out of here, right now. You were staring blank ahead for at least a minute. You really scared me, Steve.”

His eyebrows shot up as he learned that was what happened.

“I was…? That’s what-- you scared me too. You were staring into space before too... What happened to you in that time?” Steve queried, gently despite obviously being affected himself. “Do you… do you remember any of it?”

You let out a small distressed noise, heat of shame flooding your body all over again.

Yeah, no. You were not going to tell him what exactly happened, regretfully only in your head.

You rarely lied so blatantly, less so to Steve, but these were desperate times. You’d rather keep at last some of your dignity.

You licked your lips. “I… I just zoned out. And then suddenly you were here, asking if I was sure I was okay. You?”

His eyes searched your face for a moment as if he could sense your lie – or at least lack of complete honesty. Yet, he didn’t press, swallowing loudly instead and giving you a shaky smile.

“…yeah. Yeah, same. That was… strange.”

No kidding. You believed him losing consciousness the way he had was strange indeed.

Except when you zoned out, you dreamed of a world where Steve railed you into oblivion while watching you both in a mirror. Until now, you thought that shoving you against a wall and hauling you up in those enormous arms and railing you like that would be more than enough to satisfy your cravings, but apparently you were wrong. But never mind that, right? You could be flexible… flexible enough, in more ways than just one. God knew sex with a man as fit as Steve might require some stretching.

You licked your lips again, mouth feeling dry at the memory. And yet. It wasn’t all a memory. He still was so close, watching so intently. Almost as if… no.

You laughed without a trace of humour.

“Yeah, well, maybe Stark laced the walls with something when he was closing the door-“ your voice trailed off, eyes growing wide as you entertained the wild thought. “Actually, you know what, I wouldn’t even be surprised.”

Honestly, it would be a perfectly plausible explanation. In fact, you wanted that to be the explanation; it shifted the blame. You and Tony could share the blame for the inappropriate images still flashing in your mind at least.

Not to mention that theorizing was the most welcomed distraction you could get in the tiny space growing hotter by the minute, full of Steve’s masculine scent seeping into your skin and making your underwear even damper by the second.

“Hm…” Steve hummed, intrigued, his concern melting into outrage. “Loki suggested the game and made the closet. Whatever happened could be on him.”

You frowned at the implication, instinctively protective of the god of mischief; Tony was the kind of guy who would pull this kind of shenanigans using precisely the fact Loki might end up being blamed while he’d laugh his ass off.

“Tony didn’t exactly protest, maybe he just jumped at the chance.”

“Hold on a second… do you think they would team up? To deliver some sort of an advanced Halloween prank?”

Your first instinct was to say no. The thought was absurd. Loki and Tony tolerated each other at best, Tony being one of the people having the hardest time forgiving Loki for the destruction he had once caused… when it suited him. Other times… well.

“I’m…” you hesitated, “I’m not sure, actually. But I know I’m not laughing.” For sure.

Steve face was serious as he observed you, worry creeping into his expression again – you only hoped he forgot all about your earlier outburst, even as you were aware that was very unlikely.

“Can’t say I do. Once we’re out, this game is over.”

“Yeah, good idea,” you agreed instantly. “Are you sure that you’re okay?”

He seemed a little flushed, a little shell-shocked still. Then again, you imagined you did too. At least you hoped you did; you hoped Steve couldn’t read you like a book… and you hoped Wanda was smart enough not to enter your mind while you were in here.

Oh god, Wanda.

“Yeah… but that’s only cause it’s not a terrible imposition to be here with you of all people,” Steve said lightly, a ghost of a genuine smile curling up his lips, an unvoluntary smirk passing over yours at his choice of words.

“Well, I’m honoured not to be a terrible imposition to you, Captain,” you sassed, unable to stop the warmth spreading in your chest. “I suppose there are worse people to get stuck with.”

“Such a compliment,” he threw back readily, eyes twinkling. Minutely – and you would swear it – his gaze flickered to your lips.

You heart started racing. You only imagined it. There was no way. Was there? Or…?

“Shines, I… there’s something I think I should tell you,” Steve said slowly, voice turning surprisingly soft.

You blinked, the feeling of déjà-vu hitting you like a train. You had to be dreaming again. There was no way he said those words, not so tenderly, not-

The door opened so suddenly you had to squint against the flood of light; light as harsh as the truth, overtaking all of your senses.

You stumbled out of the tight space with a deep breath, the colder air sobering you up fast.  Whatever Steve was about to say, it didn’t matter; it was probably your mind playing tricks on you again and if it wasn’t, it was probably just words of consolidation he came up with at the spot, an attempt to sooth whatever had bothered you before. Nothing more.

Because whatever you had fantasied about in the closet, it was just that: a fantasy. True, one you weren’t aware you had, but a fantasy nonetheless.

Steve had long moved on from asking you out two years ago. Whatever could have been, you had missed your chance then; he was just being friendly. He tried to offer comfort, because that was what he did. Even when you hurt him by your rejection of it, even when he was rattled himself by whatever he had experienced, he tried to comfort you again what could be two minutes later, because that was what good friends did.

Not a terrible imposition – that was what he said, after all. Even as you knew he probably chose the words on purpose to distract you and amuse you, it was not exactly a declaration of love. There was nothing but friendship between you, not from his side and that meant you would keep it that way unless you were ready to risk it all.

Which was going to be never.

As Steve firmly announced that the game was over, contrary to the booing from several Avengers, you wondered what it would take to rename the stupid activity to Seven Minutes in Hell.

Part 2

Steve Rogers masterlist 

Complete masterlist

Thank you for reading 🥰 I hope you had fun! Leave feedback if you have the energy and time, we love interaction in this house💕

I suppose this is where you could end it, but you won't find the what the heck actually happened and how - and what will happen next 👀 I hope to post part 2 soon since it's almost done 🎃 If you enjoyed and wish to be tagged, let me know :)

Prompt: 7 Minutes in… Where?: You know the game. Only when you and your significant other are locked in the closet for 7 minutes, you’re transported somewhere else.

Many thanks for Jamie for hosting this challenge and stirring this sleepy fandom to life 🥰

[estelior]

You can find full in my AO3

[yandereaffections]

Marvel Masterlist

looking for spiderman/peter parker? He has his own Masterlist ❤

Steve Rogers

Delusional Steve

Pregnant S/o

Single Parent S/o

Headcannons

Tony Stark vs Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes vs Steve Rogers

Touchy with friends S/o

How Steve spoils S/o

Amnesiac S/o

Nuclear Apocalypse

Killer Steve

Werewolf Steve

Avenger S/o

Rebellious S/o

Steve finding S/o after running away with another man

Hearing S/o sing

S/os friend helping them Escape

Trying to break up with him

S/o goes missing

Steve protecting Villain S/o

Famous S/o

Delusional 50s Fantasy

Clinging onto S/o who doesn’t like being touched

Hospitalized S/o

S/o Framed into Execution

Living in the 40s with S/o

S/o who can die from pregnancy

Bucky/Steve sharing S/o

S/o who is already dating

Insecure S/o

Professor Steve dating College student S/o

necromancer S/o

Haunted House w/ Steve and Bucky

Werewolf Vampire Hybrid Steve

Alien S/o hiding parts of themselves

Ghost Steve communicating through Ouija Board

Figuring out S/os a Lizard human hybrid

S/o suffering from constant headaches

Someone attempting to drug S/o

Model S/o

At a BLM Protest

House spouse S/o

Easily scared S/o who loves horror movies

Doing his makeup when hes asleep

Platonic relationship with his daughter

S/o spending more time with bucky and sam

Magical girl hero S/o

S/o being on team Iron man during civil war

Bucky Barnes

Headcannons

Winning you over

Bucky Barnes vs Natasha Romanoff

S/o that loves their Stalker

Bucky Barnes vs Steve Rogers

Winter Solider Falling for a Civilian

Gore + Torture TW

Hunted Down

Trick or Treating w/ Bucky

Perusing Dating after Hydra

S/o who is affectionate towards friends

Bucky as a Parent

Prioritizing your child over him

Bucky being in college while S/os still in HS

Bucky w/ Daughter, platonic

S/o w/ cystic fibrosis

S/o who is scared of Bucky

Shoving Buckys head into your chest when angry

King Bucky

Soulmate AU

Crush with a shit boyfriend

S/o that loves pampering Bucky

Running away cause Someone broke in

Running away to the Police

Steve/Bucky sharing S/o

Recently freed Bucky taking refuge with you

Cuddlebug S/o

Pro baker S/o

kpop fan Dancer S/o

Halloween Date

Yandere Letter

Haunted House w/ Steve and Bucky

Shy S/o

Werewolf S/o

Witch S/o accidentally turning herself into a cat

Oblivious S/o

Darlings scared of bugs

Petite S/o

Artistic s/o

Getting a handmade blanket from S/o

S/o insecure about their high pitched voice

S/o whos always tired

Treating his wounds

Torture

Touch starved S/o that doesnt know how to show affection

S/o drools in their sleep

Air head S/o

Darling who enjoys being taken care of

S/o whos kidnapped by random people

Fluff Headcannons

“it feels like home when im with you”

S/o who was verbally abused as a kid, made to believe youll never be loved

Darling who has shit friends

Hydra S/o who tries to brainwash him again

S/o who jokes around when nervous

S/o that likes to be carried by his metal arm

S/o with a regular prosthetic arm

S/o got injured trying to escape

General protective HC

Stephen Strange

Using his powers to get his S/o

Chasing S/o down

Insecure S/o  

Single Parent S/o

Apprentice S/o

Jealous of his Cloak

Using his powers on his Dead S/o

Kidnapping S/o

Yandere Cloak

“Be good for me this time. I don’t want to see you cry again.”

Jealous

Patient S/o

Tony Stark vs Stephen Strange

Taking their S/o away from their abusive family

S/o with a flat chest

Red string of fate AU

S/o with PTSD

Oblivious S/o

Apprentice S/o getting hurt

Poly Naga Stephen + Tony

Cannibal S/o

Accident Prone S/o

Comforting Anxious S/o

Watching S/o sleep

S/o getting hurt during a city attack

Healer S/o distrusting him cause they think hes using them

S/o favoring his cape as a coping mechanism

Asexual S/o

Darling with narcolepsy and chronic pain

S/o is as good and talented as him

Sneaking out only to come back with puppies

S/o who has bad anxiety attacks

Using his cape to find S/o who sleeps in odd places

Chaotic s/o

Quiet s/o playing ACNH

S/os first time seeing snow

S/o whose ok with being kidnapped as long as they can go to amusement parks

Kidnapped S/o keeps passing out due to fear

S/o wanting to dance in the rain

S/o has the power to teleport

Demon S/o

Thor Odison

Headcannons

NS FW headcannons

Loki vs Thor

Loki vs Thor Preference

Stronger than Thor thinks S/o

Teaching Thor about Halloween

Finding Puppies

Loki Odison

Headcannons

Loki vs Thor

Loki vs Thor Preference

S/o in arranged marriage

Using a Love Potion on his S/o

Naga Loki

Affectionate S/o

Teasing his S/o

Valentines Day

S/o who can sing

Insecure S/o who keeps rejecting him

S/os Suicide TW

Brutally taking his Soul mate

Supportive S/o

Harassed S/o

Possessive S/o

Liking his Hair touched by S/o

Halloween Date

Someone cat calling his Darling

Drunk S/o

Asexual s/o

S/o whos best friends with Tony

Depressed S/o

Magica girl S/o

Vampire loki hunting down a s/o whos having fun with it

Platonic yandere  HC

T’Challa

Headcannons

T’challa Vs Erik

S/o getting Married to someone else after he gets Snapped

Tony Stark

Headcannons

“I sent you more gifts! do you like them?!

NS FW headcannons

Sugar Daddy

S/o getting attention to the constant attention he attracts

Tony Stark vs Steve Rogers

Cold in Public yet Cuddly in Private

Pushover S/o

Tsundere S/o

Jealous of the amount of attention Steves giving S/o

The Purge

Plus size Lingerie model S/o

“How else would they know you belonged to me?”

“its like you were made for me”

S/o who doesnt mind his Yandere tendencies

Jealous Tony

Finding a kitten

Shy/Book-wormy S/o

Valentines Day

Stephen Strange vs Tony Stark

S/os first relationship

Nerdy S/o

Poor yet incredibly Sweet S/o

S/o not wanting anything to do with Tony

Touchy S/o Hiding behind him

Zombie Apocalypse

Sugar Daddy to a Male College student S/o

Single Parent S/o

Learning S/o has Terminal Heart Cancer

S/o with a Prosthetic Leg

Cute S/o that listens to Death Metal

Drawing Tony in a maid outfit

Blind S/o

Vampire S/o

S/o who shuts down after kidnapping

Yandere S/o protecting their Love interest

Punishing S/o who tried to escape

Artist S/o

S/o who can see ghosts

Suicidal S/o TW

“Hey demons its ya boy”

Making Halloween costumes

Poly Naga Stephen+Tony

Tonys Type

Hunted Down

S/o having a delayed reaction to being Kidnapped

Injured S/o

S/o being hit on by Quentin Beck

Cyber stalking

S/os in the military

Crush thinking his Flirts are only jokes

Losing S/o to the Snap

Comforting S/o after a bad day

Strong Kick ass S/o

Not knowing S/o immortal, watching them get stabbed

S/o loving DIY stuff

Finding out S/o been begging to Jarvis to help them escape

S/o secretly making robo stuff

S/o having inhuman strength

terrorist S/o

S/o calling ptsd “spicy nostalgia”

Tonys s/o phasing through security after being kidnapped

Life Threatening Situation

Male S/o is a single parent

Modest S/o wont let him spoil them

S/o in a depressive episode

What kind of gifts does he buy his darling

How he shows affection

dealing with competing suitors

Proposal HC

Vampire Tony Hunted down

Incubus Tony

Assassin S/o

Natasha Romanoff

Headcannons

Dealing with competition

Wanda vs Natasha

Bucky vs Natasha

S/o whos not into girls

Hunted Down

S/o Disobeying

Avenger S/o

Choosing S/os Clothes

Shy s/o

Wanda Maximoff

Wanda vs Natasha

Headcannons

Bisexual S/o

Vampire Wanda

ADHD & Autistic S/o

Okoye

Headcannons

S/o who runs away

Nick Fury

Headcannons

Shy and Quiet S/o

Bruce Banner

Being able to control his emotions

Headcannons

Hela Odison

Headcannons

Carol Danvers-

headcannons

Powerful S/o

Single parent s/o

Oblivious S/o

Oblivious S/o is getting flirted with

Vision

Hunted down

Doc Oc

Parental/Platonic HC

Steve Rodgers 

NS FW HC

Cockwarming 

Vocal Steve 

Turned on during a mission 

College Virgin S/o slightly 

Breeding HC 

Femdom 

Bucky Barnes

Stealing S/os underwear 

Another Underwear Stealing 

NS FW alphabet

NS FW Headcannons

Sexually frustrated Bucky 

Getting Caught 

Dominate Bucky 

Sitting on his face 

Stephen Strange

NS FW headcannons

Thor

Werewolf Thors Heat 

Loki

NS FW headcannons

NS FW alphabet

Orgasm denial + Aphrodisiac

Tony Stark

NS FW Alphabet

S/o has a high Sex Drive 

S/os First Time 

Corruption 

NON-CON Bdsm TW

Submissive tony 

Natasha 

“You’re such a pretty little thing tied up like that” 

NS FW headcannons

Wanda 

NS FW headcannons

[darthbloodorange]

Thor's Good Boy

Rating: Explicit Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: Steve Rogers/Thor Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor Warnings: Sexual Content Major Tags: Established Relationship, Spanking, Praise Kink, Sub Steve Rogers, Dom Thor, Bottom Steve Rogers, POV Steve Rogers Word count: 100 - Drabble

Summery: Steve likes being good for Thor.

For the: ✦ @fluffystevefest - Praise Kink [July 5: BEDROOM]

Read below or on AO3 >HERE<

Steve gasps as Thor's hand comes down again on his ass. He digs his fingers desperately into his arms, trying to hold on.

Another smack, rocking him forward.

He could feel the meat of his ass giggle with every one of Thor's strikes.

"Wonderful," Thor says, his voice a low rubble that Steve can feel in his stomach. "Doing so good for me, love."

Steve's mouth drops open, and he grinds his cock against Thor's thigh. Needy sounds fall from his lips without his permission.

Thor's fingers slip into his crack. Teasing his hole.

"Perfect, boy."

Steve's world goes white.

THE END

[fanfic-scribbles]

Digestifs: Chapter Six (Excerpt)

I don’t like posting 18+ stuff to Tumblr, so here’s a snippet of Digestif’s sixth chapter. And here’s a link to the full piece on AO3.

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Steve Rogers and his girlfriend may not always know what they’re doing, but they’re willing to work it out. Together.

It’s just more fun that way.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Chapter Six: Girls On Top – Switching it up in the bedroom makes for a surprising adventure with a few bumps in the road, but it's worth it in the end.

Excerpt:

~

I snorted, and couldn’t help but grin. “How many times do I have to remind you, Captain? I’m a civilian and I don’t take orders. If you wanna call the shots in this room, you’re gonna have to earn it.”

“Hm.” There was defiance in his eyes and he licked his lips. “Really? Because I don’t see anyone here to challenge me.”

“Oh? I guess the room is empty then,” I said, doing up the zipper and simultaneously starting to scoot to the edge of the bed. I only got halfway up the former and barely anywhere in the latter when Steve used one hand to propel himself onto the bed, landing with his legs on either side of me.

I let out a yelp of surprise but fell back in laughter. “You dick!” I said and pushed at his chest.

He exaggerated being affected by my pathetic show of not-strength, to the point where I could actually swoop up and shove him into really moving. He was briefly surprised, and then there was a mischievous glint in his eye, and we devolved into a wrestling match that must have been ridiculous to him in how even it felt to me. Still, I gave as much as I could, and Steve allowed it, until I actually ended up on top of him, firmly straddling his waist and breathing heavily, while he lay like he had just flopped onto bed. His hair was a little mussed, so I took that for a win, even though I probably looked a mess with my chest just barely covered, and starting to sweat.

I took a deep breath and straightened my jacket before putting my hands on either side of his head. “Looks like I win.”

~

(Read More Here)

[morganxwritess]

i watched deadpool & wolverine yesterday and absolutely loved it—highly recommend! the movie reminded me how much i miss chris evans as steve rogers in the mcu. now, i have a new fic idea, but i'm torn between writing chris or steve. any thoughts?

[mariomario4156]

A collection of thumbnails I've made for videos of mine.

[natandwandaseries]

Haven't finished the chapter yet but...

😂☠️ Love this! Thank you! 🍋 🥧

[anika-ann]

Seven Minutes (S.R.) - pt.2

Type: TWO-SHOT, independent, canon-ish, part 1 here

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 10 900 cause I have no chill

Summary:

You weren't obliged to go to that party, but you went anyway. You even had fun.

Until you and Steve were left to pick up the pieces after your seven minutes in a closet together, so graceful having been pushed into it by Tony's stupid idea, Loki's magic and a game of chance where there might be more losers than winners.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, (unprotected sex, fingering, glimpses of size kink and praise kink, soft hints of D/s, mirrors, possessiveness;cumplay, overstimulation and edging if you squint really hard), alcohol, a drop of angst, language (a lot), STEVE (he is a warning in this one)

A/N: written for @jtargaryen18 and her Halloween challenge. Prompt in the final notes. I toyed with it so much that it might have been cheating 😅 dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

Part 2: Seven Minutes in Heaven

“Secrets are the prisons we make for ourselves.”

― Joe Hill, Locke & Key, Vol. 6: Alpha & Omega

The party had died down; or as Tony said, only the fittest had survived.

Sam, Bucky and Rhodey had challenged Natasha, Maria and Helen to a lazy game of beer pong. Bruce was still asleep. Thor and Vision started some sort of a special game of pool, wordlessly watched by Wanda and Steve, while Thor and Loki argued in hushed voices about what only gods knew – literally. Tony got some genius idea despite – or thanks to – the killer levels of alcohol in his blood and sneaked off into the corner of the room, working with holograms of graphs and other simulations graciously supervised by Pepper.

Needless to say, the spacious room still looked every bit a warzone in an autumn aesthetic. And yet. It still looked better than your heart; a wasteland.

You avoided Steve ever since you stumbled out of the stupid closet, from which he oh-so-kindly helped you, supporting your weight before you could faceplant on the floor – and he graced you with a sweet even if a little shaky smile as he did so. God, you hated him for it. You hated you could still feel the heat of his skin, taste his breath on yours, an echo of the reality of the closet; what more, the memory of his skin on your bare body, lips mapping every inch of you, teasing touches and thick fingers, dark gaze as he made you his in every way possible… this memory of your fantasy was somehow fading, as if it wasn’t even yours.

And it wasn’t; because Steve himself was never yours to have. Fantasies like these were futile.

The loneliness in your chest despite being surrounded by friends hit you harder than ever; and you should have known better. You could blame Loki and Tony and Steve, even yourself for your past shortcomings, but the trigger for your mood was all on you. You shouldn’t have been drinking. You knew you often toed the thin line between a cheery drunk and a miserable drunk. Tonight, it seemed you very much tripped and stepped over the line by a mile.

You nursed a bowl of candy, staring at the repetitive sequence of scary images projected on the wall. The only person you’d be willing to join was Tony; but the reasonable thing to do would be retreat to your room and sleep it off. You even felt sleepy; except your brain was wide awake at the same time. Body exhausted, brain hazy but alert, eyes burning with tears born not only from your loneliness, but also from being awake for too long. You were never going to another of Tony’s stupid parties ever again. You’d promise to never drink again, but your job sometimes required dumbing your mind in a way therapy never could.

The skeletons on the wall blended into a graveyard again; the image was almost soothing. Peaceful. A pile of bones that couldn’t hurt anymore a blessing. And you really should go to sleep, because your thoughts were getting morb-

The yelp erupting from your throat was pitiful – but thankfully drowned in the hooting from the beer pong table. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you found Loki suddenly sitting next to you on the couch, the corners of his lips now twitching in amusement.

Jesus.

“Don’t sneak up on me!” you complained, your body suddenly very awake too. Jerk. “Jesus, Loki!”

“I believe you Midgardians say that if one becomes easily startled, it is because they have impure thoughts or intentions,” he hummed, but had enough decency to control his smirk a bit. Still a jerk. “What is it, søster? You appear upset.”

Anger and humiliation flared up in your achy chest since it was him of all people pointing that out. As if it wasn’t his stupid magic that created the closet in the first place, feeding your misery further. You shot him a glare.

“And you are to blame. Piss off, Loki.”

He retreated a bit, showing off his bare hands as to tell you he meant to harm, a slight pout to his lips.

“Now now. There is no need to get hostile, is it? I simply noticed you were… rather isolated and the party did not please you anymore, nor did the company. I came here as a concerned friend.”

You sighed, eyes roaming his face; he appeared genuine. He might be a god of mischief, but he had proven a friend on numerous occasions indeed. An annoying sibling, if you willed; there was a reason why he called you a sister.

“Don’t you always…” you murmured, sighing again and working hard to try and smile. “Sorry, bror, I am not in a festive mood nor in a friendly indeed. You do not indeed deserve my hostility… much.”

His eyes flashed with understanding, a smile spreading on his lips as he tilted his head, inquisitive.

“Has something happened during the seven minutes with your precious Captain?”

To protest was an instinct at this point. “He isn’t m-“

“Yes, he is, but that is not the point,” Loki interrupted you, rolling his eyes theatrically before his gaze bored into yours, the blue of his eyes almost burning. “What did you see, søster?”

It hit you like a train – the realization that should have hit you long moments ago. God, you were an idiot. Such an idiot, trusting, naïve, too good-hearted idiot, who-

You slapped Loki’s bicep hard – or tried to, your hand passing through the illusion of his body he had created, your hand only meeting the cushions. Of fucking course; he wasn’t even here. He was a trickster, after all. Case on damn fucking point-

Your face burned almost as much as the tears of anger in your eyes – anger and embarrassment. God, he hadn’t- he couldn’t have possibly--- had he seen?

“You did do something to the closet, didn’t you? I defended you when Steve suggested it, you know! Did you make up the damn illusion I saw? You fu-“

Loki’s hand, materializing as his whole body now, caught your hand when you tried to hit him again, his long fingers gentle as they wrapped around your wrist. If you had any more energy, you’d fight his hold and send him to the floor in one of the fancy moves Natasha had taught you. But you didn’t; too weak. To stunned.

The asshole.

“I did not make up any illusion nor did I see what you saw, my little Midgardian,” Loki responded calmly, for once appearing sincere – and unless you imagined it, there was a shade of regret in his expression too.

He’d better be telling the truth about not seeing at least – but how could believe a word he said? He tricked you. Like a trickster. Gods, you needed to retake your IQ test if he had got you so easily.

“I simply offered clarity to everyone who walked into that closet… incidentally, it was only you and him,” he added.

“Clarity?” you echoed, an unamused erupting from your throat as you yanked your hand free. “I don’t think so, Loki. Whatever it is you did was a damn low blow. So do take it personal when I tell you to piss off – wherever your actual body actually is--- or one of your bodies or whatever.”

You rose to your feet, determined to leave him – and this whole cursed party – behind and sleep for a week.

He caught your hand again, stopping you; you shot him a murderous glare, gritting your teeth as you failed to keep your tears at bay, a few rolling down your cheeks – a mix of of humiliation, anger and bewilderment, because were you really crying? Christ, you were never drinking again.

Loki’s gaze softened at the pitiful sight you had to make; he gently tugged at your hand, so watching you so kindly and pleadingly that he might have as well tugged directly at your heartstrings.

Gods, why did you have such a glutton for punishment and pain? Why were you such a sucker for redemption? Why were you so weak to give people and gods the chance to apologize just so they could feel better about themselves?

You sat down with another sigh, willing to give Loki one more minute to explain himself and say sorry – but not more. You blinked in surprise when he frowned, slowly raised his free hand, his fingertips brushing the tears from your cheeks away.

“I am sorry to upset you,søster. But you should slow down in jumping to conclusions,” he said, making you already regret your decision; he wasn’t apologizing. Of course he wasn’t. Men. You wrenched your hand free again. You were out of here this very- “Ah-ah. Here it is again. I am sorry. But… what is that figurative expression you Midgardians have? Say, what do you hide in a closet, søster?”

Clothes, usually, you thought, annoyed. Clothes, unless it’s empty and you’re lucid-dreaming about enthusiastically getting railed by one of your closest friends. You had a distant feeling this was not the answer the trickster was looking for.

“Loki, I’m tired, drunk and miserable,” you said matter-of-factly. “I really don’t want to play any more of your games and I think you had done enough, so I’d appreciate if you-”

“Skeletons, søster. Secrets,” he whispered conspiratorially, a slow smirk spreading on his face. “Dark, dark secrets you do not share with anyone else, those you do not dare to share. In that closet… the darkest one concerning the person you were in there with came out.”

Your shoulders sagged, annoyance biting at your gut. Loki was saying these things as if he just revealed to you the secrets of the universe and not a well-known fact.

“Gee, thanks. I knew about that ‘secret’ already.”

Loki’s right eyebrow arched as he smiled deviously.

“Did you, now? Did you know your Captain’s best-kept secret?” he pried, eyes sparkling with the mischief worthy of the god he was, confusing you in the process.

You were too lost to his mysterious message to correct him again – that Steve was not yours. Loki knew and apparently, he knew that that was exactly part of the problem. Hell, that was the whole problem at the moment, but-

“Huh?”

Loki’s other brow arched as well at the bewildered sound you let out, his gaze measuring you from head to toe with distaste almost as if you insulted him by not praising him for his supposed brilliance.

You didn’t feel bad for it – you had no energy for that. And his ego could use a little blow.

“…you truly are exceptionally drunk if you get slow like this, my dear Lady Speedy,”he emphasized, shaking his head like a disappointed parent – or older brother. “You did not see your secret. What kind of lousy trick would that be?! You already know your secrets, they are in your head! That is why they are yours! No, no, no,” he lamented, shaking his index finger before he pointed it at you, his proud grin widening. “You, my little Midgardian søster, stepped into the Captain’s head. You saw his secret. And he saw yours. Do we understand now?”

All blood drained from your face, annoyance replaced by a mask of pure horror that seized you the moment Loki finally explained. You stared at him blankly, mind suddenly completely sober and whirling. You were fucked. You were utterly, utterly fucked, because if Steve saw your secret, he knew. He knew you wanted him; he knew how you wanted him and how much. He knew what you craved him to do to you.

“Loki, this isn’t funny,” you heard yourself say, almost soundlessly. He tilted his head, that irritating grin still present as he looked right back at you, waiting for you to process the bullshit he was trying to feed you. “This is a very, very bad joke.”

Please tell me it IS a joke, you added mentally, only to be very disappointed.

“That it would be, but it is not, for I am not joking,” he retorted, expectant.

Expectant of what? Of praise? A thank you? For putting you into this insanely vulnerable position, for basically stripping you bare and revealing—

Your mind came to a screeching halt as another realization finally slammed into you like a freight train.

“Holy shit.”

Loki straightened in his seat, his grin now almost maniacal – and so goddamn smug.

You saw Steve’s secret. You saw Steve’s fantasy. Taking you over and over in front of a mirror, all the praise, sweet nicknames and affection he showered you with in your vision – that was him. He wanted you too. These weren’t only your desires, these were his.

But that was impossible. Steve didn’t--- he wasn’t- he would have said something. He would have acted differently. You would have known. This, whatever Loki was saying, couldn’t be true, Steve would have asked you out again if he wanted to, he’d-

Except he wouldn’t. Because unlike many men, Steve understood the meaning of the word no. If you rejected his initial advance two years ago, he had no reason to try again, because he would respect your choice.

You could kiss him for that. Or smack him. It that were true.

The hope rising in your chest was a dangerous thing. Hope was the thing with feathers; it would fly you high so the fall lasted longer and the landing hurt more once it dropped you out of the sky. If you allowed yourself to hope that the absolutely wonderful gorgeous human being Steve was was still interested in you romantically…

Instinctively, you glanced the direction of the pool table, hoping to see a hint of Loki telling the truth – and worried Steve might hear your conversation due to his enhanced senses – but Steve was no longer there. Swiftly scanning the room, you found out he was no longer there at all. It seemed he was the only one having made the sane decision of going to sleep.

You gulped as your gaze focused the trickster again, still afraid to believe even for a minute this could be real.

“Loki…”

“Now. You know his and he knows yours… the question is, are you willing to act on it? Are you willing to admit what is it that you want out loud now when he already knows anyway… even if he does not, for I entrusted the power of the closet only to you so far?”

You swallowed loudly, heart hammering in your chest wild. Were you? Willing to admit it out loud? That was one insane risk to take. One you weren’t sure was worth the consequences.

“Loki, if you are lying-“

“Bleh, I am not!” the Asgardian spitted out, offended. “What could I possibly gain from that?!”

“Fun?” you suggested automatically, because that was what he was all about, wasn’t it? That was why he created the insane magical closet in the first place.

Could Steve really still like you? Like like you? Now you were back to being thirteen indeed-

“Your idea of my idea of fun is rather strange. Go talk to your Captain. Or… communicate your thoughts in whichever way you prefer.”

You felt your already hot face burn at his suggestion. As much as you’d like to do that, the thought of even confronting Steve was scary – it would be much easier to be sure you wouldn’t mess up your perfectly good friendship, a friendship you cherished. Alas, you only had Loki’s words to go on. You could imagine more reliable sources, but none of them you’d dare to approach either.

“Oh shut your face, bror. If this is another idiotic prank, if you are lying, I’m going to tell Bruce to smash you—no, I’m going smash you myself, reduce you to the size of atom. Without breaking a sweat,” you promised him as you rose to your feet and you meant it.

If you were going to find Steve now – and you were, because there was not a universe in which you would simply fall sleep after what Loki did and told you – and if you were going to mess up, if Loki was truly just toying with your heart, you’d make sure he’d suffer for it.

“So feisty,”Loki praised, eyes lit up. “The Captain will like that, I am certain.”

Oh you were sure he would; Steve liked a drive in a person. He’d like it if you were brave enough not only to find him now, but also tell him how you felt. The idea was so damn intangible even as you had thought of it thousands of times, so terrifying that you just might go to bed and stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night instead because you could not take that risk.

“Loki… this is a personal thing. And if I go and fuck up what Steve and I have-”

“You mean two years of fruitless pining-“ he interrupted you again.

“-based on your bullshit, I---”

You felt tears in your eyes again – and god, you were truly never ever drinking again, even as you felt very, very sober now – and the God’s mischievous eyes softened once more.

“I shall never repeat it again, but I grew quite fond of you, my little Midgardian. Despite what the over-righteous Captain believes, I have no intention to hurt you,” he assured you kindly.

“…I will still smite you if you’re wrong.”

His grin returned. “Looking forward to it, my Lady Speedy. And you’re welcome!”

“Don’t push it, Loki.”

As expected, your brief surge of bravery ran out by the time you stood in front of Steve’s door. Your hand shook as you raised it to knock, counting to three. Then, you simply did it – better to get it over with, right? With what you learned from Loki, awkwardness was about sneak between you and Steve anyway. At least you would know.

That wasn’t a terrifying thought as all, was it?

Steve appeared in the doorway, already in pyjama pants and a white t-shirt, looking at you as if he wasn’t sure whether he dreamed you up or not. His special nickname for you slipped from his lips, surprised and questioning.

You felt like an idiot; you probably looked like one too, your outfit in a pitiful state as well as your make-up, but here you were about to have one of the most important conversations in your life. An agent for the Avengers Initiative, supposedly one of the strongest and most capable people of the planet; yet, you felt like a teenager about to confess to your first-ever crush.

“Can I… can I come in?” you pipped up nervously, wondering whether your heart could actually jump out of your chest – and guessing that yes, it could, when Steve smiled automatically, stepping back to let you into his room.

“Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, your sweaty palms twitching to curl into fists briefly, because of course he would ask that. Beautiful, infinitely good man. Sweet and caring. Golden boy. Golden boy who wanted to fuck you in front of the mirror and watch.

You shook off the last thought as your stomach fluttered, coming to a stop in the middle of the room, trying to ignore the large inviting bed and spinning on your heels to face Steve instead.

“Yeah. No. I mean,” you stuttered, shaking your head. “I… Loki, he--- he said something.”

There was no mistaking the flash of cold steel in Steve’s eyes, the way his relaxed body straightened and stiffened, shoulders squaring at the mention of the God. He really didn’t like him, did he? After the emotional turmoil of tonight, you couldn’t say you blamed him.

“What did he say?”

“He said��� you--- this is so stupid, I can’t even--- did you have, uhm, did you have a certain… vision? A dream maybe? When we were in that closet?”

Your face was set aflame at believing he had, that he had the kind of vision you assumed; a vision that would make most people blush. And Steve did blush a bit, discomfort clear in his face.

“I--- maybe,” he admitted reluctantly, earning a raised brow. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes. Did Loki…” His gaze found yours again, searching – and worried. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite decipher too, something you weren’t sure if you wanted to understand. “Did he tell you--?”

You shook your head.

“No. If you’re asking whether he told me what you dreamed about, then no.” Because he didn’t have to. I just know. If Loki wasn’t lying, that was. “But I… I had a vision as well. And Loki, he… told me what it meant. He said--- he said-“

You gulped, a dull weight in your chest as Steve observed you with silent wonder and a mixture of emotions you couldn’t hope to understand. Patience. Concern. Apprehension. Affection? Definitely confusion.

This was absurd. What were you even doing here? It was utter non-sense. Loki was just pulling your leg, that was what he did, a friend or a bror or not, he just decided to have some extra fun during Halloween and make it his personal April Fool’s Day. You were but the victim of his over-the-board prank-

You chuckled at your idiocy, shaking your head and stalking to the door.

“You know what? Forget this. This is so stupid, I can’t believe I fell for that-“

A gentle hand, the gentlest touch, stopped you in your tracks, disappearing as quick as it appeared on your wrist.

Reluctantly, you turned back to Steve again, truly loving him and hating him at the same time when his tone softened as if you hadn’t brought up Loki, his personal thorn in side, at all.

“Hey now. This, whatever it is, is clearly making you upset. Upset enough to knock on my door at three a.m.,” he noted, hand twitching towards you again – but not touching.

That was what he would have normally done – comfort you by touch. A warm hand on yours; the warmest hug. Touch was Steve’s love language for friends and no doubt lovers alike. But he didn’t. Because you had said no – you had pushed him anyway, you had pulled back in the closet. You had broken him; you had broken you two already.

Damn Loki and damn his stupid jokes and painfully unhelpful interventions. You already hurt Steve and now you were here, at three damn a.m. indeed, robbing him off his well-deserved sleep on top of everything.

God, what a farce.

“I’m sorry-“

“That’s not the point, you know the door is always open for you,” Steve interrupted you, eyes roaming your face with determination now. He was on a mission. He had noticed your body language, whatever it was trying to say. He noticed your hesitance. He read you like a book and he was going to read it through to the last chapter to get to the bottom of things. You were in trouble; there was no going back now. “What did Loki say? I saw you two earlier, he--- did he make you upset?”

Your heart seared, your lips parting on instinct.

While spoken on a normal volume, the question was a battle cry. If you said yes, Steve would release the wrath of Gods – of an angel, a guardian angel and a warrior – on Loki. It didn’t matter Loki was the god, the entity from another planet. He would tremble in front of the anger of a righteous man defending you.

“No! I mean--- no. He just…” you stumbled over your words again, shaking your head and taking a deep breath. You closed your eyes, because otherwise you’d never get it out, not with the way your throat felt so tight you could barely breathe, let alone speak the bare truth. “He said that what we saw in that closet was each other’s secret. Something we secretly want. Supposedly, I saw yours… and you… you saw mine.”

Your voice trailed off into a shy whisper, but you had no doubt Steve heard your words clear as day. The silent shock settling on the room told you as much. Hands curling into fists, nails digging into your palms, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, before you gathered enough courage to open them and look at Steve’s reaction.

But Steve wasn’t looking at you, much to your relief and frustration. He was staring over your shoulder, the smile on his lips absent, appearing just a little broken. You dug your nails further into your skin, not daring to even breathe in until Steve released a wavering breath of his own.

His voice was quiet as he spoke, so very soft and warm, a note of gentle wistfulness. “I’m not sure I can believe that, Shines.”

You nodded, licking your lips and bracing yourself. Now or never. No take-backs.

“I’m not sure either… but that depends. What do you want, Steve?”

“I…” he sighed, finally meeting your gaze, an unreadable open book. He observed you carefully for a moment as you tried to stand tall, stand your ground and pretend you didn’t feel like it was shaking under your feet. Like you wouldn’t feel like the Earth was splitting beneath you if his answer would be anything else than you were hoping for. “I want you, Shines. But I don’t see how that’s a secret.”

Fresh tears sprang from your eyes; but this time happy ones, the shock and relief and joy finding release.

You had hoped. You had prayed on your way in here. You wished upon the stars. And yet nothing prepared you for the reality of Steve saying this. You were certain your heart was about to explode any second, your pulse thundering in your head. He really said ‘you’.

A small part of you wanted to remark that if Loki was right about everything and you had indeed saw what was in Steve’s head, there were a few secretive details that Steve had failed to mention, but you kept your mouth shut, because that was not the point.

He wanted you. He truly wanted you. He still… you still had a chance. More than a chance, apparently.

“Oh,” you let out quietly and oh so wittily, probably making your IQ scores appear like a joke again, but this time, you didn’t give a damn. You smiled weakly at Steve who stared at you expectantly and resigned at once. “Good. Because I want you too.”

A single deep breath. Eyes full of wonder, soft confusion lacing his voice. Reluctant hope, as reluctant as your own had been. “But you said no.”

You nodded, lowering your gaze and smiling tightly on the floor as you wiped away the few tears.

“I--- I was still new and you were… you were this idol of all things good, intimidating and untouchable. I mean, in many ways, you still are, but I was just crushing on you so hard even if I barely just met you. The longer I knew you, the more it… changed into something much deeper than a crush, but when you asked me out back then, I just… panicked. And I wanted to take that answer back later, but I was scared it was too late. And the longer it got… the harder and more awkward it felt to ask you if you were still interested in me, if you’d want to be more than friends after all this time, especially since you dated someone else in between.”

A few beats of silence followed your confession, words hanging in the air.

“That was never a good idea,” Steve admitted lowly, causing you to look up to his now sheepish face. “I thought I was ready for someone else, but I wasn’t. My mind was still on you. And still is, which really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you or me,” he noted, lips curling up in a smile that would make your heart beat faster hadn’t it been already racing like mad. “You’re beautiful and brilliant. You could do anything you’d put your mind to and would still stay humble enough about it. You’re capable, you’re passionate, you’re kind. You make the world a better place… and you take my breath away. You always have.”

You stood frozen, momentarily stunned.

It seemed when Steve went for something, he went all the way. You knew that about him already; and still. His declaration took you by surprise. A pleasant one, much like two years ago; but this time, you knew better. You were ready. Or at least ready enough.

At three a.m. after a damn Halloween party, you were ready to accept you and him felt the same.Steve liked you. Liked you a lot more than a friend, if his words were sincere and you would never doubt they were anything less.

The world was a beautiful place and you adored Loki’s shenanigans.

“Well…” you said as you stepped closer, basking in Steve’s soft gaze set firmly on your face, hopeful and incredulous. “I think you are pretty damn brilliant, handsome and overall amazing too, so that works out well… and I guess maybe we should do something about that.”

“I guess,” he echoed, his smile slowly widening when you took another step. He reached out this time and took your hand, enveloping it in his larger one.

It was just holding hands, it should not have such an effect on you, but Christ, you could die a happy woman right there. Especially when Steve carefully lifted your joined hands, dropping a kiss to your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. When you smiled wide at the tender gesture, Steve’s gaze lit up with a familiar and yet so different spark. “You think I’m intimidating?”

A surprised chuckle erupted from your throat, the tension you hadn’t been quite aware of melting from your shoulders. You could smack him – now he was a cheeky fella, wasn’t he?

“That’s what you took from me pouring my heart out? Really, Steve? Wow. Just wow.”

He laughed as well as he erased the last distance between you so you stood chest to chest, hand moving to cradle your face instead and angle it up, his eyes full of wonder still as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. Humour and absolute delight blended into one in his expression; you imagined yours most have looked the same.

“Well, I kinda poured mine out too to make it even. But I’m just a guy, doll. My ego needs a good rub every once in a while.”

You couldn’t help it. You snickered at his choice of words. A good rub, huh?

“Just your ego?”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes, his smile earning a wicked edge that had your stomach flutter; or perhaps that was just his strong arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush to his front, your palms catching against his chest. So warm. Warm and wide and real, and it was yours to touch.

“Aren’t you a cheeky little thing…” he mused.

“You know it. What you’re gonna do about it, Captain?”

His gaze roamed your face, searching for an answer to the unspoken and yet completely clear question. He found it in the challenge written in your smartass grin, his lips soon gravitating towards yours, suddenly close enough you could feel his breath on your own. His voice dropped but to a whisper.

“Depends… what would you let me do, Shines?”

Anything. Everything. All at once. Forever.

You licked your lips, painfully aware of the firmness of Steve’s body against yours, so pliant to accommodate his strength. “I’m pretty flexible.”

The corners of his lips twitched at the double entendre.

“Is that right, sweetheart? Let’s see how you like what have in mind then…”

A lot. The answer was a lot. You loved it the very second his lips touched yours at last, causing you to shudder and melt into his embrace. The kiss was even more tender than you imagined; gentle lips moulding into yours, thumb stroking over your cheekbone softer than silk. Lingering and brushing yours even as he released you to do something as mundane as breathing.

“I like it so far,” you muttered, eyes closed to absorb all the sensations enveloping you. The warmth, the masculine scent, the faint taste of mint tooth paste and Steve, the thundering heart under your palms, the hot skin as your hand slid up Steve’s throat to his nape, the soft strands of his hair as you pulled him to another kiss. “What else do you have in mind?”

He hummed against your lips, smiling, hand angling your head to kiss you deeper, parting your lips with ease, so naturally as if it was always meant to be. And perhaps it was; kissing him was two years due. The thought of a lost time had your fingers flex against the material of his t-shirt, squeezing his nape; his chest rumbled with a silent groan, arm tightening around your waist, heat pooling at your stomach.

You knew this groan. You knew the feeling of hardness building against your belly and you knew exactly what it meant; and you wanted it. You wanted it real this time and there nothing in the world that would make you resist Steve inching you walk backwards one small step after another as his mouth dominated yours, his hand moving to your hip to steer you the direction of the bed.

Or you thought so until his arm softened the impact of your back against a wall, your eyes snapping open with a gasp. Your gaze met Steve’s just as his fingers tangled in your hair, eyes roaming your face attentively, taking in every detail of your flushed face and already swollen lips. You feasted your eyes too, hand instinctively moving from his chest to his bicep, nearly whining at feeling the power humming underneath.

He could take you. He could take you in whichever way he wanted and you’d simply have to hold on and survive it, because even with your fancy moves and normally sharp brain, you were no match for his strength. But you didn’t need to be; you didn’t want to be. You were actually perfectly fine with Steve making love to you tender or fucking you against the wall all the way across the room from the no doubt comfortable bed.

“What else is there?” you heard yourself ask breathily, rewarded with Steve’s gaze darkening, his hips pressing against yours, palm sliding from your cheek to your throat, thumb caressing the soft skin.

He was trying to kill you. He was, there was no other reason to show off those large paws of his in comparison to your body, no reason to remind you he could crush you without much effort.

He petted the sensitive skin lovingly, licking his lips as another shudder ran down your spine, his middle finger inching under the shoulder strap of your dress.

“Can I?”

You only panted as he already hooked his finger under it and sent it sliding down while still being able to touch your throat, the hoarseness of his voice awaking the heat inside you having been sleeping ever since your dream encounter in the closet.

“Y-yes,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand that that consent applied to everything. Everything he wanted he was free to do. You needed him to do it.

He must have understood. He must have, because when his lips locked with yours, the heat behind the kiss was otherworldly, his body caging yours against the wall in the most toe-curling way.

It was like a switch flipped inside him, because it finally dawned to him. He had seen you fantasy; the filth he had experienced came from you and he could take full advantage of that. That previously frightening thought that Steve knew now, knew how you wanted him and how much, was apparently exactly what he needed to see; that you wanted him. All of him. No filter.

You mewled when his fingers tugged at your hair with the slightest pressure, guiding you to expose the column of your throat for his mouth to explore and nip at, his other hand squeezing your hips and following the curve of your ass appreciatively. Your already damp panties turned completely useless by now and in the very back of your mind, you realized that with Steve’s slightly enhanced senses, he could probably smell how riled up you still were from your imaginary closet experience. You could be embarrassed about that; but when his hand brushed up the back of your bare thigh over your hip under the hem of your dress, stroking over the lace of your panties at the apex of your thighs, you decided you were beyond caring.

Especially when you could feel his muscled shift with the minuscule movement of his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear, so close to where your core screamed for his touch and attention.

“So, doll…” he whispered to your skin, groaning minutely when you grabbed at his nape and pulled his mouth to ours, feeling it was way too long since you tasted them. He didn’t seem bothered at all, his fingertips brushing oh so lightly against your heat at last, a barely-there brief touch gone too fast. “I saw your dirty secret, is that right?”

Alright, he needed to stop talking and teasing you and get to work before you could spontaneously combust. Your only satisfaction was the fact that he too was far from indifferent to what was happening, his hardness pressing against your thigh.

So why wasn’t he doing something about it?

“Doll?” he hummed against your lips, expecting you to answer, clearly.

“Y-yeah? I guess?”

“Hm…”

You cried a discontent noise when his hands untangled from your hair and disappeared form under the skirt of your dress, long fingers curling around your wrist, one and then the other, soothing your disagreement with a filthy kiss.

Next thing you knew, your hands were pinned to the wall by your head, carefully, but firmly, Steve’s body pressing against the rest of you; his lips released yours just in time for you to let out a gasp as startled as pleased.

Your heart turned into one of a hummingbird when you realized your predicament fully.

Trapped against the wall by Steve’s large body towering above you, hands locked in a grip unmoveable upon you testing it. Caged. Utterly helpless. Dominated. The surge of need into your belly was so acute your brain turned into a blank screen with static noise for a moment.

Steve was playing out your fantasy. He was replaying what he must have seen. He was giving you exactly what you wanted and you were not about to protest; less so when your heart felt like giving out when his teeth grazed your pulse point, your knees bucking a bit, a silent mewl escaping you and that loveable bastard smiled with absolute glee against your skin.

“Love the sounds you’re making, doll. Love how your body responds to me.”

“You’re playing dirty,” you whined, not quite complaining, but still causing Steve to look up. The glee you had assumed was most definitely in his smirk and hungry gaze.

You swallowed loudly, gaze trailing up his bulging bicep when his hands manipulated yours above your head, one hand easily gripping both of yours.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, long fingers running over your bare arm indulgingly slow, over the swell of your breast, over your waist, until they slipped under your skirt again, following the hem of your panties to the junction of your thighs and pushed it aside at last, feeling the pool of slick in your underwear. His voice grew huskier as he spoke again. “Fuck. Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I won’t,” he promised, latching onto your mouth as his thick finger slipped into your heat at last, causing you to moan at the blissful intrusion.

He pumped his finger a few times before he added another, the soft stretch sending hot pleasure through your veins, having you chase the feeling in the limited space he made for his hand between your bodies, trying to rock into his hand as he set a maddeningly slow pace.

“Steve, ple-ase-”

The plea melted into a gasp when he curled his fingers, finding your most sensitive spot, your hips jerking forward as the ripple of pleasure he elicited.

“There she is…” he murmured smugly, swallowing your noise of complaint when he pulled his fingers out right then, spreading your slick all over your lower lips and circled your clit only to neglect it right after.

Empty and strung tight at once, you tried to move and chase the much-needed friction, only for Steve’s hips to pin you in place again, palm spawled over your ass.

You wanted to shoot him the dirtiest look for denying you, but all you managed was a soft accusation in your hooded eyes as his still wet fingers tipped your chin up, his intent gaze dark and hungry.

“God, you’re perfect, doll,” he rasped, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

You had no time to be embarrassed; not when the words from your dream echoed in your head – except it was not a dream. This was all Steve – his fantasy, his reality too. He liked to watch. He liked to tell you were beautiful. He clearly liked your fantasy too – to have you in his arms, at his mercy.

You wanted to pull him for another kiss, to guide his hand – his cock for god’s sake – where you needed him so much you could barely stand it at this point, but the thrill of the not being able to, not being allowed to, felt almost as good. He was breathing heavy too, yes, but otherwise, holding you down posed no challenge for him, not even with one hand, the other sprawling over your hip again. Your core clenched at the casual display strength, a tiny noise escaping you against your will.

And bless that it did. Steve’s fuck it was the most beautiful song you had ever heard, because it was the sound of breaking.

So fast he battled the speed of light, his hand was back, tearing away the soaked fabric of your panties, mouth stealing the blissful moan from your lips, body letting just an inch of space for you to arch into his touch when his fingers slid right back into your heat, pumping and assaulting your g-spot, this time with his thumb pressing against your clit. Small rhythmic circles, dextrous fingers filling you up over and over and he had you chanting his name as you clenched on his fingers hard, warm release overtaking your body, muscles spasming, your vision blurring for a moment.

And Steve didn’t stop. The back of your head hit the wall with a silent protest as his fingers continued to fill you over and over again, mouth latched onto your neck and sucking a bruise, grasp on your hands firm and you struggled against the hold no longer sure if you wanted to stop him or keep his hand exactly where it was, because despite the overwhelming sensation and overstimulation, your body screamed at you to take it and enjoy the flames licking at your insides, so painfully delicious.

You clamped on his fingers again with a wordless cry, gasping for air as your eyes snapped open, meeting Steve’s impossibly blown pupils drinking in the sight of you overtaken by utter bliss. The wet squelch filling the room was pure filth as you soaked his hand, but you had no capacity to feel ashamed, you body buzzing with adrenalin and white-hot pleasure, Steve’s gaze making you feel like the eighth wonder of the world.

The second he released your shaky hands you were on him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him in for a bruising kiss, his talented fingers slowing down to bring you down from your high. Once he let you get your fill, his kiss softened, short pecks to your lips, to your cheek, to you closed eyelids.

“You okay, Shines? Was that too much?”

You shook your head with a breathless laugh, the action of checking that you were alright familiar, matching the faint memory of seeing the images of his desires. Fuck you so good you’d forget your own name, but in a very respectful and caring way. It had Steve written all over it, alright. You should have known.

His forehead rested against your sweaty one, his nose nudging yours, his body more holding you up rather than restricting your movements now.

“I’m gonna need words, Shines.”

“Yeah,” you whispered obediently, pecking his lips for a good measure.

His hungry eyes sparkled with mischief as they met yours, beautifully red lips curling up in a smirk and causing your racing heart to stumble.

“Good… because I don’t think that’s how the fantasy ended…”

You yelped when his hands slipped under your ass without a single warming and lifted you with ease, your own hands gripping at his shoulders, legs, while rather jelly-like from your mind-blowing orgasms still, wrapping around his waist on instinct. You felt his hardness press against your core, hard planes of muscle without as much minute tremble under your weight as you stared at him, excitement stirring in your belly anew. With laughable ease, one of his arms shifted so he could use his other hand on you as he pleased.

You bit down the squeal ripping from your lips, but not quite successfully. He was carrying you. On one hand. And he didn’t even break a sweat yet.

“Better?” he asked smugly and it shouldn’t be attractive, you hated arrogance, but goddamnit cocky Steve seemed the hottest thing ever at the moment. Even when he was still fully clothed and your dress was loosely hanging over your bra, skirt ruffled up. Christ, his shoulders were so wide-

“I don’t think I can survive better…” you admitted, gulping, but letting your hands roam his exquisite body and gods you could come again just from touching all the delicious power you knew were locked in that body. “But I wanna try.”

Steve’s grin was the thing from your filthiest dreams; and his cock pressing against your core, the annoying fabric of his sweatpants in the way, was too.

“Atta girl…” he praised, hand curling around your nape to pull you in for a kiss that had barely any resemblance to the one he graced you with to bring you down, oh no. He licked into your mouth with indulgence, taking what was already his. “You’re gonna be so good for me, aren’t you? Take everything I give you?”

“Yes.”  

“Let me fill you up, again and again until I’ve had enough? Until you’re so completely mine that all you can think of is my name and the way it feels to come on my cock? You’re gonna let me do that, sweetheart?” he whispered to your ear, sin dripping from every carefully spoken syllable. He pulled at your dress, revealing your bra and groaning when he palmed your breast over the thin material, your own hands sliding down his chest and finally under his t-shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

So good. Gods, he felt so good.

“Yes. Wanna feel you. All of you.”

Steve rutted into you and you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and tugged, wordlessly begging him to reveal your playground. He chuckled, pulling at his t-shirt himself to help you, quick to hum a promise to your lips that had your core clench around the painful emptiness.

“Oh you’ll feel me, Shines. I’ll make sure you’ll feel me for days. That what you want?”

One palm sprawled over his chest, the other laid over his abs, you weren’t sure you could answer beyond an absent nod. Steve did not find that satisfactory.

The nips of his teeth combined with the rumble in his ribcage had you release something between a mewl and a gasp, his abdomen shaking with a silent laugher.

“Oh that was a pretty noise. Can’t wait to hear more of it.”

“Steve, please, just-“

He heard out your plea at last, kissing you, free hand going to the laces of his sweats, undoing it way too slowly. Impatient, you knocked his hand away and did it yourself, feeling Steve’s lips curl in a grin against yours.

“Do you need me so much, doll? Need me to make you mine?”

You barely had time to breathe a yes and shove his pants down, hand wrapping around his thick length, drawing a breathy sound of pleasure from him and an unnecessary confession of the obvious.

“Yeah, need you too.”

He allowed you barely a few seconds of pumping his cock before he coaxed your hand away, the head of cock nudging your slit, quickly coated in your slick. His groan was delicious to hear, your hips bucking on instinct.

Yeah, need you too. You did this to him.

“Fuck, Shines, you’ll feel like Heaven.”

It was inappropriate. Completely and entirely inappropriate but you chuckled, a cheeky retort about seven minutes dying on your tongue when Steve entered you, a little too fast and straight to the hilt before he gave you time to adjust to his impressive size and grith. The stretch was a lot; a lot more than his already thick fingers, but you had never known you could be filled so well and it could feel just this good.

He was made for you, he had to be. Or maybe you were made for him.

Little droplets of sweat pearled on his forehead, gaze firm on yours, dark and amused at once as he slowly retreated and pushed inside you again, your lips dropping open because you had been wrong; he stretched you further and a shy glance down told you he still had a way to go.

“I could hear that pun before you said it, doll. You’re thinking too much,” he husked, setting a pace and pushing just a bit further and further with each thrust, hand sprawling over your lower back to angle you to his liking – for you to take him even deeper. The burn and fulness felt impossible, but Steve’s intent gaze on your face was even more so. “Let’s fix that.”

“I thought you liked me brilliant?” you hummed as if you didn’t feel your toes curl in pleasure, your hands grasping at his shoulders, at his arms, anywhere to keep him closer, closer…

Wind knocked out of you with ne sharp thrust, you finally took all of him; your lips parted with silent oh god, eyes slipping shut as the sensation of utter fullness. Distantly, you could feel his gaze on you, drinking in the sight; the artist in him admiring the visual, no matter how plain you thought you had to look.

“I do, Shines… but now I need you to think about one and one thing only.”

There was no space for words after that. Once he had you, he set a punishing pace, claiming your lips as much as your silky heat, overwhelming all of your senses all over again. The onslaught of sensation – his warmth, his strength, his musky scent, his lips, his grip on you, the fast but deep drags of his girth against your walls, stretching you to your limits – it was all too much, too much when his fingers sneaked between your bodies and ripped the dress away to give the much-needed attention to your clit.

“Steve-“

“That’s it…” he spoke against your mouth, teeth grazing your lower lip even as his pace never faltered, building you towards the skies again, “you really are perfect, Shines, gripping me so tight. So perfect and mine, aren’t you?”

“Yours… yours… yours,” you promised with every thrust until you couldn’t, your lips falling limp, your nails digging into Steve’s back when you came with another shout of his name.

And soon, he followed, whispered praises and mine over and over as he made you exactly that. Thoroughly his. Keeping you close even when he pulled out, keeping you close when his spent drippled out of you and he simply gathered in on his fingers, pushing it right back, dark gaze never leaving yours, your stomach making wild somersaults.

Mine. So completely mine. Aren’t you, Shines?

You were. Completely his, deeply sated and utterly exhausted. You were grateful he carried you to bed, because your legs were beyond functioning; as he laid you down, you couldn’t see the clock and you thanked heavens for that, because the time had had to tipped over from too late to too early. But you couldn’t care less. Not when Steve’s fingers caressed every inch of bare skin of your body they could reach, the rags of your clothes in a messy pile by the door a proud reminder of how exactly he had got it off.

And got you off.

You mentally snorted at the bad pun, another one you didn’t have a chance to share since Steve had been too determined to stop you from thinking returning to your mind.

“Steve?” you smiled lazily as he was lying next to you, propped up at his elbow, smiling down at you softly – so softly in contrast to how he had railed you into oblivion. Lovingly, of course.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I think this was what we should call Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

He groaned, falling on his back and drawing a full belly laughter from you, throwing his arm over his face as if he couldn’t bear to look at someone who made such a terrible joke. With effort, you propped on your elbow then, looking at the gorgeous length of his body for a change, cheeks hurting from grinning so wide. He was a work of art; Michelangelo’s David had nothing on him. Superb balance of size and function in every muscle, every tendon, as hard as stone when needed and carved into perfection. Alive and warm under your gaze and touch, its utter superiority proven by countless missions and work-out you had witnessed. It wasn’t just how large his body was, the contrast of the width of his shoulders to his waist, the lines of his abs with soft treasure trail; it was the knowledge of what his body could do. What that brilliant mind behind those sweet blues could come up, the kind heart humming contentedly under your palm now. You had met enough dumb jocks in your line of work, big almost as Steve, handsome too; but they could never compare.

He moved his arm when your fingers walked down his sternum, heading for the treasure trail; his cerulean eyes observed with a mixture of mischief and warmth, wide awake despite the ungodly hour. You stopped, fingers hovering just above his skin, the heat it radiated tickling your fingertips.

It didn’t escape you – it was literally hard to miss that – that Steve clearly hadn’t had enough. You didn’t ask why, whether it was the serum or something else, but you knew you didn’t want to leave him unsatisfied.

You had promised, hadn’t you, even if it was in the heat of the moment. Until he had his fill, he said? You could take it.

Leaning down to kiss him, you were welcomed by the sweet taste of his smile; your wandering hand continued your path at last, wrapping around his still very hard length. He didn’t protest, only reached out to pull you closer, practically lying on top of him.

The kiss was lazy; half-hearted desire, reluctance and indulgence at once. Steve tangled his fingers in your hair, pushing it out of the way, caressing your cheek.

“You sure you can take more, sweetheart?”

You nodded without a second thought, a wordless ‘yeah’ whispered straight into his mouth, a slight twist of your hand causing him to groan.

Steve might be caring to a fault, but he was only a man – as he had said. Who was he to refuse your offering? He sat up and pulled you to his lap with ease, your body obedient and pliant, a gasp elicited from your throat when his lips moved to suck on your nipple, your fingers gripping on his hair.

“Steve…”

“Did I mention you were perfect?” he muttered into your soft flesh, kneading your ass and your breast.

You had never felt so utterly adored; body, mind and soul. How could you be anything else than his when this was what it was like?

“Once or twice. You’re not too bad yourself, Cap-tain,” you stuttered when he pinched your other nipple for the cheekiness, a breathy giggle escaping you.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, gaze having turned hungry again.

“Good. Turn around, sweetheart.”

You looked at him slightly confused, but obeyed. You’d do anything, even kneel in front of him, the prospect of him taking you from behind like this stirring something deep inside you. You glanced over your shoulder as he positioned himself behind you, a glorious god prepared to claim the sacrifice of those who worshipped him; and god, would you do exactly that.

He grasped at your chin softly, capturing your lips with his, his hardness nudging the globes of your ass; and released your lips all too soon, fingers pushing at your jaw to look forward.

Heat flooded your body, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Kneeling on the bed, completely bare and exposed, you were facing the mirror.

His fantasy. His turn.

“That okay?” Steve asks, voice husky as his lips attached to the flesh above your collarbone, his arm sneaking around your waist and pulling you to his front. He was hidden from your sight for most part, a true shame; you were on full display.

For you. For him.

You gulped, gaze set firmly on his face in the mirror, not daring to stray it elsewhere even as you could see his eyes appreciating his view.

“I… I think so?”

His smile was warm, a little boyish and entirely devious. You sunk into it as much as you sunk into his firm body, his fingers tweaking your nipple, drawing your gaze to the movement of instinct. Heat spread in your insides at the sight of his large hand over you, barely an edge of shame nudging your consciousness. Filthy. Vain. Wrong. Thrilling.

“Good… ‘cause I think we can do better than seven minutes,” Steve hummed with a trace of humour in his voice, free hand sliding between your thighs to tease you and make sure you were ready for him still – or again. When he spread your lips for the head of his cock, you instinctively bucked into his hand, gaze flickering to the sinful image. “In fact… I wonder how long you can last until you’re begging me…”

He pushed into you in one swift movement, strong hand keeping you in place, the tendons on his forearm dancing, a breathless oh falling from your lips.

“…to stop. Look at yourself, sweetheart. Look at us.”

Almost in a haze, like a new dream on its own, you did. With the strangest and most tickling glee, your gaze trailed from where you and Steve were one between your spread thighs, over his arm draped over you, his hand spreading softly over your throat to keep you looking straight into the mirror, lips attached to your temple curled in a smile.

“Your mind is way more filthier than I thought,” you managed to say before he started thrusting into you, his smile earning a wicked edge as he nuzzled your hair.

“Shh… that’s my best-kept secret. You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you, doll?”

Powerful. Adored. Desired.

His.

The next words rolled off your tongue before you could think twice, Steve’s hypnotic gaze on your body enough of an encouragement.

“Keep my mouth busy and I won’t--- oh god.”

The fingers of his left hand circled your clit, sending an almost painful pleasure through your veins, while his right hand angled your head to capture your lips indeed.

“Now who’s filthy,” he murmured, pressing his thumb against your mouth, dark pupils blown wide as you sucked on it obediently. He pushed into you so deep at the action you thought you’d feel him in your throat and you finally understood the expression of la petit mort. The feeling of bliss washing over you was so strong it could kill you and yet you’d never felt more alive. “Fuck, Shines, you’re gonna be the death of me. But first… let me show you how beautiful you look when I make you mine.”

And he did. Oh, he did.

And he’d stand by his promise that you’d feel it for days too, you were sure of it, even if only time would tell.

The sun was already rising and peeking through the blinds when you finally laid your head on the pillow to sleep at last. Successful revels Thor would say, you thought lazily.

You walked the fine line between consciousness and dreams, cradled to Steve’s chest, closer than you ever thought you could be. Idly, you let your mind wander; despite the absolutely mind-blowing sex that only probably happened to a person once in a lifetime, you couldn’t but believe that this wasn’t a one-time thing. No, Steve didn’t do one-night stands, he even said so; his mind was on your for quite some time. This was but a start and you loved the idea of that. Not just because of the promise or experiencing this again, the pleasure still flowing through your body as an echo of what had been almost too much bliss to bear, but because of love.

You had been more than a little in love with him for almost two years – and you couldn’t wait to fall harder. Because besides being a sight to behold, Steve’s arms provided comfort, safety and sincere affection. You didn’t have to be scared of that fall, because they’d catch you. You didn’t have to fear for your heart if you gave it to him, because you knew Steve Rogers to his core; he’d cherish the gift and guard it with his life.

And he’d deserve it too, your whole heart. He deserved to be loved deeply and unconditionally; and on occasion, filthily.

With a sleepy hum, he nuzzled into your neck almost as if he could hear your thoughts and approved of them, pressing a soft kiss there. You drifted off to sleep with a little sappy but entirely adoring smile.

“You did something to the bottle, didn’t you? Some fancy physics trick?” Bucky said, more an announcement than a question, just before he decided to finally follow Steve’s and your example, ready to retreat to sleep – most of the group did anyway.

Tony was a picture of genuine innocence for once at the accusation. “Me? Please. How would I even do that?”

“I dunno. Magnets? Electric pulse? Flying invisible bot? What do I know…”

A nearby chuckle caught both Tony’s and Bucky’s attention, their suddenly knowing gazes finding Loki with his arms crossed over his chest. They didn’t bother to pretend to be irritated, even as at any other time, they would have been. For once, they were just grateful; Friday had silently informed them that the agent known as Speedy had been last seen outside Steve’s suite and wasn’t seen leaving for at least an hour.

If the two clueless dumbasses figured their shit out at last, Loki’s mischievous involvement was worth it.

“Oh no, I cannot possibly take the credit for that part.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “What part can you take the credit for?”

“You could not handle the truth, Sergeant,” Loki smirked, causing Bucky to roll his eyes. “But not the bottle. I swear. I admit that I wanted to – but I did not have to.”

“So you want me to believe that after two years of Steve and Speedy needing to pull their head out of their asses and at least half of us trying to talk some sense into one or the other, a stupid game an even stupider coincidence finally did it for them. Really?”

Tony nodded, watching Loki with searching gaze. “Yeah, I’m with Buckaroo on this o-“

The sudden soft dragging sound and a clink drew the gazes of all three men. The bottle, having spun a bit, came to a slow stop under their watchful eye.

“Dammit, Loki-“

The trickster raised his hands in defence, chuckling again. “I did not do anything!”

“Yeah, right-“

The bottle shifted again, this time spinning fast – and stopped abruptly at once.

“But-“ Bucky froze mid-sentence. Then, his head snapped in the direction the bottle was pointing now. His eyes found the young redhead witch, walking out of the room hand-in-hand with Vision. As Tony followed Bucky’s line of sight, his mouth fell slightly agape.

Loki only smirked harder. “I must say, it is always a pleasure to say this: I told you so.”

“No way,” Tony breathed out, incredulous.

“Stark, give that girl a raise,” Bucky muttered, shocked as well; but completely sincere in his request. Bless magic. Bless that girl for pushing the idiot of his friend into what Bucky couldn’t convince him to do for months.

Wanda only smiled at them over her shoulder and walked out of the door with a silent ‘good night’.

Steve Rogers masterlist 

Complete masterlist

The prompt was Only when you and your significant other are locked in the closet for 7 minutes, you’re transported somewhere else. and well. Yeah. I transported them into each other’s head – specifically, into their filthy fantasy. I am not even sorry anymore for that cheat if it is a cheat🫡 Though I am a little sorry for the length because this was supposed to be a one shot (story of my life).

Well, this was a LONG ride. I hope you enjoyed it 🤭

Let me know if did and if you can🥰

Thank you for reading!

[estelior]

Some hot shrinkyclinks for you!

Full you can find on my AO3 the link is below

[darthbloodorange]

Steve retires and gets a farm. It's hard work, made even harder by his neighbor. It's not like the guy is malicious. He's only ever been kind. But the man works the land in a way that appears effortless. His farm is essentially a food forest. He's frustratingly attractive too.

For the: ✦ @thundershieldbingo 2024 Mini Bingo - Neighbors [Card #2 "Alternate Universe"]

Word count: N/a - Moodboard Title: New Leaf Turned Rating: Gen Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: Steve Rogers/Thor Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor Warnings: None Major Tags: Canon Divergence AU, Neighbors AU, Farm/Ranch AU, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, First Meetings, Developing Relationship, Mutual Pining, Gardens & Gardening, Food, Retired Steve Rogers, Farmer Steve Rogers, Tired Steve Rogers, Farmer Thor, Fertility God Thor ~ Summery: Steve retires and gets a farm. It's hard work, made even harder by his neighbor. It's not like the guy is malicious. He's only ever been kind. But the man works the land in a way that appears effortless. His farm is essentially a food forest. He's frustratingly attractive too.

~

I've kind of got an idea of this that basically results in Thor, God of Fertility, accidentally (with the aid of the Super Soldier Serum) turning Steve into what is essentially an Omega in a non-A/B/O world.

[unfortunatetheorist]

I can definitely imagine this, @asoue-headcanons! Plus, given Sunny's culinary expertise, this would take Another One Bites The Dust to a whole new level!

~ Th3r3534rch1ngr4ph

#446. In her teenage years, Sunny learned how to play bass for a Queen cover band.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Digestifs: Chapter Four (Excerpt)

I don’t like posting 18+ stuff to Tumblr, so here’s a snippet of Digestif’s fourth chapter. And here’s a link to the full piece on AO3.

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Steve Rogers and his girlfriend may not always know what they’re doing, but they’re willing to work it out. Together. It’s just more fun that way.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Chapter Four: Comfort – Steve wakes up from a bad dream, and needs to know everything’s okay. He’s very…hands-on about it.

Excerpt:

~

I woke to sudden movement and a sharp sound I couldn’t immediately identify. It took me a few seconds to get my bearings, but once the fog of sleep faded a bit, I realized it was the middle of the night and Steve was sitting straight up and looking around.

That jumpstarted me to full consciousness. “Steve?” I asked and looked around, but I could see and hear nothing aside from him, shaking a bit and taking short, jagged gasps of air. He didn’t immediately move either, so I took the chance to flick on my bedside light and my heart settled somewhat when I saw awareness just barely coming back into his eyes. He took a little more time to look around the room, tilting his head as if to listen for a threat, and then he finally took a deep, if shaky, inhale. It didn’t help the rhythm of his breathing all that much though, and he remained on alert.

“Hey,” I said and when he looked at me his eyes widened somewhat as he looked me up and down. “It’s okay; we were sleeping and you just woke up. I’m okay and there’s no one here.” He blinked a few times and rubbed his face. “Nightmare?” I asked gently and tried to touch his shoulder, but he shivered and I took my hand back.

“Yeah,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and looked at me again, like I was hiding an injury he just couldn’t see but was surely there. It must have been a real bad dream. Normally he snapped to faster than this, but though he was clearly awake, he still looked mentally trapped in the mire of whatever dream-him had been going through. Or helplessly witnessing. “I’m sorry, I–…can I…”

He tried for a few more words and failed. His hands opened and shut towards me and he looked so distressed I opened my arms in invitation.

~

(Read More Here)

[natandwandaseries]

Happy Pi Day everyone!

[anika-ann]

Pomiluj me (Love Me Tender) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; standalone (NOT a part of this medieval AU)

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 10k 😁 best possible division if needed is at the first divider

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers and his brothers in arms are returning home after having tackled an unruly creature terrorizing the people of Starkerbürg. Upon encountering an injured woman, Steven offers to bring her – carry her, truly – back to her home. How could he deserve a knighthood if he left a woman in distress to her fate, after all? 

But not everything it as it seems. And love blooms in the most unlikely of places. 

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, tons of fluff, himbo knights in BBC Merlin style (long live the legends), knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Title from the song which inspired the story, Pomiluj mě (Love on Me/Love Me Tender)...tumblr cannot handle an “ě “in their title 🙃 Lyrics, translation and link here, you’ll find a few lines in the fic as well - truly recommend. DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics

A/N/2: AO3 says this is my 100th work (as posted here anyway) and I’m brushing 1,680k of words written according to the counter. Which… whoa. And it’s almost six years since I first posted a marvel fic 🥺 Enjoy!

Alone, you only wander in the dark Chased by the cold I shall light up the torch you’re guarding

Should I be worried about you That all you do is take When are you coming back to me?

The cavalry moved rather slowly.

The noble men appeared a far cry from the polished image known from books, even as they had attempted to wash in a river. They reeked of battle, smoke and blood still; and the drying blood in their wounds was just as red as that of ordinary men, the scent of sweat and fear having seeped into their clothes and armour. And yet, their vests carried the sigil of Starkerbürg with pride, signaling the knights’ dedication to the protection of their kingdom.

With only horse left, they truly might make a pitiful sight, certain weariness to their step; but an air of victory and camaraderie made for a picture of life instead. Laughter sounded between the group, a joke thrown around here and there, a tease about a wound each of them suffered, particularly the youngest one. Despite those, true concern for their new friend, Sir Parker, could be read in their eyes. He was the youngest to ever been dubbed in the history of Starkerbürg; it was no wonder the good men assigned him the role he would have played had the bond they shared been one of a blood family. The youngest of brothers was as much made fun of as protected, since he was eager to prove he deserved the honour to ride with the knights of Starkerbürg just like any other. Now he sat on the horse in front of Sir Barton, the eldest, as they made their way back after successfully ridding the kingdom of a horrific creature: the chimera had been believed to only exist in old tales until it brought terrible and painfully real suffering to the people of the west of the kingdom and so the king’s loyal servants were tasked to ride at dawn five days ago.

“Alright, alright, let us leave the poor lad,” Sir Barton said, patting the young Sir Parker on his shoulder a little too hard. “He shall do better next time.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder gratefully, having started to feel not humbled, but humiliated.

“Yes, yes, we should let him be,” Sir Maximoff agreed, side-eyeing the two riders mischievously. “We should talk about how you moved like an old lady.”

The collective ooooooh and chuckles might have as well come from a group of children, rather than grown men, causing Sir Barton to glare at the cheeky lad he called a friend.

“Old ladies are wise and worth of respect, Maximoff. You could learn a thing or two from them, as you had learned from me,” he scoffed, feigning offence. “Do not forget who taught you how to swing a sword, kiddo.”

“There is a point in what Clint is saying,” Sir Wilson hummed good-naturedly, raising his eyebrow at Pietro in challenge.

“Maybe. Does not change the fact he’s grown seven years older since then, while I have grown seven years more mature.”

The explosion of laughter following his statement was louder this time.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Sir Barnes snorted, elbowing his best of friends, Sir Rogers. “About as mature as this one was when he used to pick his battles with guys twice his size, eh?”

Sir Rogers, Steven to most, only smirked, speaking up for the first time in a while, since his thoughts were far far away. “Should we get technical, we all took up on an enemy twice our size only yesterday morning.”

“Oh?” Sir Barton feigned surprise. “Listen to the guy. He might tell you what brought the monster to its knees next – an arrow straight to its eye. Remind me, Maximoff, whose crossbow it was that fired it?” he asked pointedly, grinning down at the man walking by their horse, earning an eyeroll.

“Did it even have knees?” Sir Lang questioned, “All I know is that it was a nasty, nasty thing.”

“Nastier than Hydra? Cut off one had, two shall takes its place? I truly believed that was only a legend…” Sir Wilson said, a visible shiver of disgust shaking him.

“Not sure we can compare the two… maybe Barnes or Rogers could, huh?” Sir Maximoff suggested.

Steven’s face darkened; he did indeed remember the hydra creature very well for it nearly cost his best friend his arm. The scars still littered Bucky’s skin, from the back of his hand all the way up to his shoulder; Gods had blessed him enough that his ability to use his arm remained intact, even as its appearance did not.

As for the strange chimera they had slayed yesterday… it was true that Steven had gotten more familiar with it then he would have liked. He could recall it with uncomfortable clarity: its foul breath smelling of death on his face, feeling as if it had seeped deep into his very bones when he had finally thrusted his sword through its heart. He could still hear the clang of teeth near his neck, a near death sentence.

No, he would rather not compare the two. He would rather not think of either of the creatures at all.

“Why us, Maximoff? Because I nearly lost my arm to the former and my best friend to latter? No thanks,” Sir Barnes hissed, face turning ashen as well.

Steven instinctively reached for his friend, squeezing his arm, casting a concerned glance as he was torn away from his own dark memories.

“Buck…”

“Are you jesting? Sir Rogers was incredible,” Sir Parker cried out excitedly, having four of the knights groan, for Steven’s bravery – or idiocy, should anyone ask Sir Barnes, truly – was all the youngest knight had been talking about for the majority of their journey, causing Steven’s cheeks redden under his beard, sense of pride and satisfaction battling the terror of the memory. As for the remaining knights, well; while they did not diminish Steven’s important contribution of delivering the fatal blow, they had grown annoyed at the constant babble.

“Sure he was, kiddo.”

“Oh yes. They should probably knight him. Oh wait-“ Sir Wilson said, causing the men to laugh.

“Yeah, a set of deadly teeth perhaps three inches from his throat? Let him have all the glory and Princess Morgana’s hand too,” Sir Barnes grumbled, sending his friend both a proud and irked glance.

A sudden rustle of leaves and a woman’s yelp followed by a thud caused them all fall silent and turnbattle-ready in a split second, snapping in the direction of noise.

However, there was little need for caution. Their intruder barely appeared dangerous: the peasant woman observed them with wide eyes and forehead scrunched in pain, blossoms of common elder, spilled all around her like precious silks of a gown instead of the worn fabric of the simple shirt, shawl and ankle-length skirt, speaking thousand words of what she had been doing until she had fallen. Her fingers were clutching at her left foot, a clear sign of her ungraceful landing. The tree was by no means tall, but that should not mean the fall was what they could call comfortable.

For a moment, the group of knights stood frozen, rendered speechless as much as the poor woman who found herself face to face with not one but seven of the crown’s most loyal servants.

Steven, perhaps the kindest of them all, was the first to snap from the shock of an unexpected disturbance of their journey, releasing the grip on his sword, never having drawn it from its sheath. He took several long strides to the young woman, instantly capturing her attention.

“My lady, are you quite alright?” Steven inquired, gently as he realized his large frame, accentuated by his armour, might intimidate the poor sweetling.

And yet. Just as the question left his lips and his gaze met hers, he was the one rendered mute all of sudden.

Steven had never seen anyone more clearly, he was certain; and just as sure he was of the fact that no woman could ever hope to encompass sincerity and beauty in her eyes only as the one he was facing at the moment.

Her smile was but a shy little thing, pain masked by gratitude for the knight’s care. He was a handsome one, of robust built but with delicate lines to his face, bright blue irises with a speckle of green, plush lips framed by a short beard; distantly, she imagined his wide shoulders would barely fit the doorframe of her cabin – of her hut, truly. She found the imagery enticing, almost as much as the gentle tone he had spoken with despite his giant frame.

“’Quite aright’ seems accurate, sir. I am not hurting much beyond my left ankle,” she admitted, even as her source of discomfort was evident from her hand still covering the affected area.

Steven’s brows furrowed slightly in worry, yet he made no move, spoke no words, even as his lips parted. Instead, his eyes roamed the woman’s face, searching and fascinated. It was the silence which prompted his comrades to enter the interaction.

“Do you think you can walk?” Sir Wilson asked as he stepped forward – a movement barely acknowledged as the woman did not shift her gaze from Steven still.

“Wobble, perhaps,” she said, the corners of her lips briefly turning downwards. “Could perhaps one of you assist me? I should be most grateful for your chivalry.”

Sir Barnes could scoff at the absurdity of her wording; even as she suggested she would welcome anyone’s aid, her fixation on Steven was ridiculously evident. It almost scared him, how steadily she watched him; even as ladies’ interest in his best friend’s company had increased significantly along with how Steven’s muscles had grown, the way this woman observed him… unsettling him for some reason.

“Oh! We should borrow you the horse for a while-“ Sir Parker – bless him, the youngest and the purest of heart of them all – cried out, soon silenced by a more sombre voice of reason of Sir Barnes.

“Kid, you lose your leg should you put your weight on it now. Believe me, I have almost lost my arm to the same foolishness.”

“…oh.”

“Well, I suppose one of us should support you and walk you to your home,” Sir Barton suggested nonchalantly, preparing to dismount the horse. “The most experienced one of us, perhaps?”

“Truly? Is that so, Clinton?” Sir Wilson questioned as he eyed him, his tone carrying wryness of a man who would not care for nonsense – unless it was one that could earn him a great deal of fun. “Why you?”

“I have a pair of very well-working eyes for one,” the older man uttered, causing sir Maximoff to snicker silently.

“So do I and yet I would never offer!” Sir Lang opposed as soon as he understood the meanings behind Sir Barton’s words. “Must we remind you how inappropriate that would be, since you have a lovely wife and three kids at home?”

“And a knee that knows a rain is coming at least two sunsets ahead?” Sir Barnes added for honestly, the foolishness of Sir Barton’s idea battled the one of the youngling’s.

“Ugh, alright then. Spoilsports.”

Sir Maximoff, unsurprisingly, grinned and shrugged as he stepped forward. “Ah, well, fellas, it seems-“

“I can do it. I can even carry her.”

Sir Barnes sighed, an involuntary reaction to best of comrades choosing this moment to snap from his reverie. Speaking of foolishness.

Not once had Steven’s gaze left the beautiful woman since the very moment he had laid his eyes on her, almost as if he was drawn by ancient power whose pull not even his virtuous heart could resist. The pull had been literal too; while the movements had been subtle, step by step Steven inched closer to the woman, now standing barely three feet from her, way too close even as he had been the first to spring forward.

Sir Barnes would be amazed and certainly more than amused at his friend’s antics, had it not been for the fact the scene was as fascinating as disconcerting. For a myriad of reasons. Beginning with-

“You are injured as well,” Sir Wilson noted pointedly.

Sir Wilson appeared to be the only of the men aside from Sir Barnes who had not lost all reason in the midst of all of them having acquired an expression of awe and smugness. In all fairness, the reaction of the knights was nothing short of understandable, for Steven, Sir Rogers, who had kept from many women who had been rather literally battling for his attention, seemed enamoured all of sudden. And of all creatures, enamoured by a beautiful, yet the most ordinary of women. He appeared if not utterly lost to the fabled love at first sight, then certainly lost enough to abandon all reason.

“Oh no, if you are severely injured, I could not possibly-“ the woman resisted, gathering her skirt in attempt to stand up as if to prove she was considerably less inconvenienced by absence of aid than it had originally appeared.

Naturally, her efforts were doomed to failure – and just as naturally, Steve had been there to catch her, promptly supporting her weight. She had barely caught herself, one palm flat against his chest, the other on his bicep, lips parted in silent surprise; and much to the amusement of all knights, in awe of his strength.

Sir Rogers was certainly not the only one of the pair who appeared smitten.

“Thank you, good Sir.”

“Sir Steven Rogers, my lady. I should be happy to aid you,” he pronounced, the words ‘with anything’ unsaid but clearly implied as he helped her straighten up as much as her own injury allowed. “I have not been injured severely. Worry not.”

Needless to say, Sir Barnes would argue; bruised ribs, several cuts, more so when one of them sat right above his brow, should be considered severe enough not to carry a woman in his arms… particularly when these injuries were coupled with a heavy blow to the head. Before, Sir Barnes had not been sure how strong of a hit Steven had taken, but now, seeing how absent of any common sense Steven was-

Ah. His best friend was being quite himself, now that Sir Barnes thought of it.  

“…so we are to ignore there are at least three better candidates whose ribs are not bruised or-“ Peter muttered in low voice to his companions, all but earning a warning slap to his healthy leg as Sir Lang gently shushed him, himself charmed by the romantic ballad-worthy scene in front of them.

“Seeing as she does, I suppose we do too,” Sir Maximoff scoffed lowly, tilting his head to side as he observed his comrade, suddenly frowning, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And so does he. Is he alright? He looks… strange. Has any of you put something in his water?”

“You are saying this as if you were not as miffed about him being chosen by her as I am,” Sir Barton huffed, sourness turning into humour at the other man’s misery.

Pietro’s gaze torn away from the pair, their downright love-sick gazes suddenly difficult to watch; it almost felt as if by looking at them, they were prying on an intimate moment. Pietro thought it curious, for he had never had any issues of laughing loud at the displays of affection his fellow knights had offered in the Tower tavern for everyone to see, but he did not want to examine it too hard. He could find joy elsewhere once they had made it to the city, with no shortage of ladies no doubt willing to offer comfort to the heroes of Starkerbürg.

“He is one lucky bastard,” he sighed, patting the horse’s neck, preparing to take off.

“And lucky he might get…” Sir Wilson sing-sang quietly, causing the group to laugh as their gazes once again appreciated the almost palpable spark between the unlikely couple, exchanging knowing glances as the woman gasped when Steven sneaked his arms under her knees and back, lifting her into his arms with ease despite his gear weighting him down.

“Alright, it is settled. We are certain you are safe with Sir Rogers…” Sir Barton called out, entirely ignored by the pair who instead kept observing one another without as much as a blink, as if they could not bear losing even a fraction of the precious time they were given. “For he is-- they are not even listening to me, are they? No one cares about me anymore, I truly must be getting old-”

Sir Barnes sighed again, realization dawning to him; one he should never share with his companions, but one he would for certain inquire about later when Steven returned to the castle.

“We shall move then,” he muttered, beckoning others towards the road, not before sparing the couple a last slightly disapproving glance.

He feared not for his most precious friend’s safety; he only feared for his heart, too big even for the impressive size his body had grown into since his early days as a weakling. At the moment, it was his mind Bucky feared for, since it almost seemed feeble under a spell of a beautiful woman. A spell no one dared to break.

As the group walked away, each of their steps was uncharacteristically silent; until they believed to reach enough of a distance to have a boisterous laugh about Sir Rogers no doubt to be rewarded for his chivalry. The sound bothered not the pair as they smiled at each other softly, the woman’s thumb brushing over Steven’s sternum, covered by worn chainmail.

The simple touch seemed to reach his soul; his breathing, having already eased since he had first caught her, cleared completely, the ache in his bones gone. The woman’s smile widened, silently prompting Steven to start walking. He was not one to hesitate, his feet moving almost of their own volition.

“You are not obliged to carry me,” she said, a teasing note lacing her gentle voice. “I slowed the landing enough. It is nothing but a bruise.”

Steven shook his head, appearing as if he was barely holding back a grin. “But I must, my lady. It is my duty as a knight of Starkerbürg.”

She pursed her lips, one corner lifting in a smirk.

“Oh? Is it so, my good sir? Hm... speaking of knights of Starkerbürg, Sir Rogers,” she emphasized, a playful spark appearing in her eye, “your friends act like children.”

Undignified for a knight for certain – yet who was he to diminish the already scraped reputation of men who truly unsubtly jested about him taking advantage of the very woman in distress he was to help – Steven snorted.

“Don’t I know it.”

“But Samuel might not be wrong…“ she said, voice equally full of amusement and promise. “Set me down, Steven. You must be tired.”

Tired he was not. Not ever since he had met the woman’s eyes moments ago and recognized their beauty and depth as familiar. But who was he to deny a lady?

And a lady she was, for all she was and was not. They might have jested about it together, but in Steven’s mind, she was precisely that and nothing less, no matter what any half-wit of this kingdom would think. Slowly, he lowered her back to her feet, his heart thundering in his ribcage in anticipation as he focused on the sounds surrounding them.

Content with only gentle whisper of the wind and songs of robins for a company, his worn hands cradled the woman’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, heart trembling when she leaned into his touch, her lips brushing his palm.

In return, the tips of her fingers ghosted over his brow, the nasty cut closing at once, without a single sting of pain. She focused on that aspect often, even as she knew he would try and not as much as flinch for her benefit, much like he had not when she healed his ribs earlier.

“Thank you. They must be far enough now, I am sure,” he whispered, stepping closer so their bodies aligned and nearly merged in one. “Do not hide from me, bosorka moja. Let me see you, beautiful.”

Her smile turned a little coy, even as her soul sang at his sweet words. Steven was quite a master of compliments; but not a shameless flirt or a rake. What he said always came from heart; that beautiful, beautiful heart he had sworn belonged to her and never made her question it despite their situation.

“As you wish, good sir,” she whispered, fingertips sliding down his cheekbone, repairing the darkening bruising in their wake, before she turned focus on her own transformation. “Close your eyes, love, release me for just a moment.”

With a sigh of disappointment – but eager to oblige – Steven lifted his hands an inch, missing the lovely heat under his touch at once, and let his eyes slide close. Soft light caressed his skin, flickering behind his closed eyelids as her features shifted, her cloaking spell dispersing.

Steven did not fight the smile tugging at his lips as he allowed himself to open his eyes again just as the glow was dying out, welcomed by the sight of his beloved in her true face. The spell she had casted changed her features but a bit, only enough to protect her from those who would still hunt her upon mere suspicion of her being a magical creature. She appeared just as human as before; but should a half-wit still nursing grudges against magic even century and half since its dark side caused people to suffer ever recognize her as anything else… Steven did not wish to imagine what hell would have been raised; even as it would have been one he would fight to death against.

Indeed, she appeared human even in her true form to most, Steven assumed. Yet, to him, she appeared almost ethereal; she always had. From the very moment she had walked into his life and took his world by gentle storm, slowly nursing him back to health day by day from multiple wounds which would have been his doom. She had risked her own life in process, revealing her talents to anyone, let alone a knight of Starkerbürg, but for a good deed, she had barely even hesitated.

Beautiful, powerful, brave and endlessly kind; and now, by the blessing of gods, even as Steven failed to be a proper gentleman, his.

He let his fingers slide into her hair, tilting her face up to feast his eyes on her features, heart humming pleasantly as only a person who owned it could make it hum.

It was clearer than the skies that she felt just the same. Drawing him close, not waiting for his prompting, she rose to her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers, sweet and healing. No cut was there for her to fix, but it appeared that whenever she kissed him, even with no magic involved as she had claimed, Steven’s often weary soul was lifted.

He followed her lips, earning a hearty chuckle but no protest, a hand on his nape as her fingers curled in his hair as well.

“Bosorka moja,” he said softly against her lips before tasting them again, greedy for every stolen moment, every stolen kiss she was willing to give him.

And she would give him a lifetime, much like he would give his own to her.

But there was not a single reason to do it right where they stood. One more peck to his lips and she escaped his arms sneakily, only to grab at his hand with both of hers, tugging him down the now familiar path.

“Come, rytier moj.”

And so he followed her, without a word of protest. He would follow his heart anywhere.

Their destination was by no means far, they were in no rush. Unbeknownst to Sir Barnes, his thoughts had been precisely on point – the pair of lovers cherished every moment spent together, may it be walking with purpose or wandering.

This day, they chose the former, the hut soon appearing in a barely-there clearing among the trees. Steve’s lips curled in a smile on instinct as despite the humble outside state of the tiny house, he knew what he would find upon entering with his love and lover by his side. A home. Not only hers; theirs. A safe space for their love.

As soon as they entered, the air smelling of herbs and dried meadow flowers, ones he had picked and gifted her the last time he had escaped his knight-bound duties, hit his nostrils and widened his smile. It was met with her own, soft and welcoming, heartbreakingly beautiful; ache echoed in his heart, its emptiness present for the past few days without her suddenly dissolving into nothing.

He brought her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to her knuckles before releasing her, so they could begin their routine.

From the mountains Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay your armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

Wind from the mountains

Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay my armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

You made your way to the pot, a simple curl of your wrist lighting up a fire to heat the water for tea. Steven’s gaze followed you as he stood by the door, blindly unclasping his belt, putting away his sword and chainmail. He had no need for weapons nor armour in his home; vulnerability in this house was no sign of weakness, but one of strength. It was a privilege he took upon proudly as you were blissfully aware.

Then, you ruminated through your dried herbs in search of chamomile and lavender, even as you knew the exact placement of every single item; once you heard Steven lose his armour and step forward, you looked over your shoulder, offering an unassuming smile – despite assuming quite a lot from the many encounters you had shared before.

“Tea, my love?”

Like clockwork, like the most beautiful habit, you barely got the chance to speak the question before he stood behind you, fingers cradling your chin, angling your head further to meet your lips again, an indulgent smile tasting indulgent smile as neither of you ever believed a tea was to be served. Not yet at least.

Where your first shared kiss after days of being apart tasted of longing, relief and soft smiles, this one tasted of feelings much more primal. Your breath hitched in the briefest surprise at the intensity, yet you responded in earnest, shifting to accommodate his large body, your hands finding purchase of his broad shoulders as soon as you spun around. He rewarded your cooperation with enthusiasm; you yielded to his force with a breathy laugh once he allowed you to retrieve the air he so lovingly stole from your lungs.

“No tea then?”

A hand previously grasping at your hips wrapped around your back to pull you to his chest, three steps leading you to walk backwards until your back brushed the makeshift table, Steven’s lips as urgent as sweet, his beard scratching at your sensitive skin, each breath tickling your lips.

“Would rather drink from your lips, love,” he whispered to your mouth, the only chance for both of you to breathe in before his lips returned. His hold tightened to ground you against his advances, trapping you in a cage of love you could have easily escaped should you wish; yet, you only withdrew for a moment, a cheeky retort on your tongue as your need for him grew with every touch.

“That could be arranged, I believe.”

Glancing up, you were met with his darkened eyes, his hand firm as he held onto your jaw; and yet, his thumb caressed your skin gently, the desire blending into softness and amusement at your bold demeanour. You lifted one corner of your lips in a smirk, gasping when his mouth possessed yours again, teeth tugging at your lower lip, his arm still holding onto your waist – the only thing keeping you from practically laying on the table, his hips pining yours against the hard surface, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Now there was a thought; Steve’s weight rendering you weightless as he’d coax peak after peak from your body laid on the dark wood as an offering to Gods at an altar…

The very thought, however, was fast to dissolve as Steven’s hips rocked into yours, allowing you to feel the outline of his burning need, having you clutch at his shirt as friction teased your throbbing core. He swallowed the needy noise he elicited from your lips, fingers slipping under your shirt, thumb pressing into your skin just above your hipbone as to guide your movements.

You shuddered upon his lips travelling down the column of your throat, teeth grazing skin alongside the hem of your shirt above your collarbone; your hands began their own quest over the hard planes of his body, appreciative of his truly impressive physique. Steven’s fingers roamed as well, caressing and squeezing, your given name but a breathy whisper when his fingertips stroked the underside of your breasts.

You nearly missed his words due to the blissful sensation, but you had heard the silent plea spoken so many times before there was no mistaking it.

“Dance for me, my love?”

Your swollen lips curled in a playful smile as his fingers carded through your hair, kiss brushing your cheek and jaw and finally your mouth again.

“Oh? Is that what you wish for, lover mine?”

His gaze followed the patterns his fingertips whispered over your face as if they were brushes painting the most precious canvas, a curious contradiction to his eager kisses and hardness.

“Would you hold it against me?” he inquired in a hushed voice, stealing yet another kiss from your waiting lips, his nose gently caressing yours before his gaze bore into yours with intensity again, “that I wish to see something so beautiful and so alive after a battle?”

The amusement slipped from your face, features softening as your heart sored at the subtle confession. The knights of Starkerbürg were full of jest and gestures so great they might border on insanity when situation allowed it. Their bravery was a thing of legends, as much of a legend as the thing you knew they had gone to fight days ago and were only now returning, having bested a mythical creature much more vicious and deadly than yourself, crushing life with not more than one bite to a man’s flesh.

Yet, for all their heroism, even knights, even the most precious of them all – even your Steven – felt the disarming fear of death itself, cruel and all too powerful. You would be always be more than willing to remind him of the power of life for a change, until you’d release yours with your last breath.

Ad so the answer was no – no, you would not hold it against him, whatever he would ask. Never him.

Standing on your tiptoes, framing his face with your hands, his whiskers and already messy hair ticking your palms, you told him as much, sealing your deal with a kiss.

Easing his grip, he allowed you to push against chest, easily giving in as you lead him to walk backwards until his calves hit the frame of your bed. He sat down obediently and you leaned into him, stealing another brief peck.

“Please, bosorka moja,” he pleaded once more as your forehead touched his, taking a moment to breathe him in, reminding yourself that both you indeed were still alive; and thus, such victory should be celebrated with joys life itself provided. “Dance for me, my love.”

Smiling, you placed a finger over his lips to shush him at last, gliding several steps back, mischief appearing in your eyes as his own followed your every movement hungrily, more so when you slipped out of your shawl, the shirt far from brushing the waist of the skirt suddenly hanging low on your hips, providing Steve with a silver of skin of your stomach.

There was no music but the howl of the wind carrying the occasional note by chaffinches and dunnocks and rustles of leaves. Yet, an old old melody echoed in your heart, guiding your movements and filling you with power and confidence of all witches that came before you and enchanted men into giving away their kingdom without as much as a fleeting thought, surrendering their strength and their hearts, all that only to be blessed with a single sinful glance, a single touch of magic as old as humanity itself. For a single drop of passion.

You could feel it fill the air, the longing and thirst for life and body, your lover’s eyes turning dark, hypnotized by the simple swirls of your wrists above your head, at your sides, following every slide of the back of your hands over your ribs, over your bare skin, his visceral need to replace your touch with his own. Drinking in but the smallest motions of your hips, breath hitching at the briefest tilt of your head back or to side, his lips tingling to attach themselves to the exposed skin of your throat, to taste, to suck a bruise. The force with which his fists curled into themselves seemed to ignite sparkles in the air, bringing a sensual smile to your lips as you let your eyes slip shut, feeling the energy hum louder when you moved closer; a sweet thunder within you, within Steve, all around you.

The thud of Steve’s knees on the floor came with his hands grasping your hips; needy but not firm, only to feel the slow movements of your hips and allow you to continue swinging freely. You released a breath, head tipping backwards as Steve’s hot lips found the now burning skin of your stomach, nosing his way up an inch at a time, beard tickling, an open-mouthed kiss following and causing you to shudder – with pleasure, with overwhelming power.

“Steven-“

“Keep dancing, bosorka moja,” he hummed into your skin with a pleased smile, teeth grazing over your belly button as if to distract you from his rough but deft fingers slipping under the waist on your skirt, inching it lower and lower until it hit the floor. Cold air brushed over your bare core, Steven’s lips trailing to the junction of your thigh, his smile growing wicked. “I shall help you dance.”

The very first flicker of his tongue over your pearl had you stutter in your movements, a whimper leaving your lips as Steven’s fingers dug deep into your flesh of your sides and thighs, a wordless warning not to cease the dance he had pleaded for. With a shudder of a breath, you willed yourself to continue, naturally rocking onto his hot tongue as it swept over your weeping core with indulgence, stars flashing behind your closed eyelids at the contrast of the slick muscle to the scrapes his beard left behind.

“Steven-“

“Shhh,” your lover whispered, the sound gentle and teasing at once, the pleasant vibration against your sensitive flesh causing your fingers to find way into his hair and grip, only earning another appreciative hum. “Keep dancing, love.”

And so you did. Leaning into the affection so willingly offered, you succumbed to a different kind of dance. Fingers flexing in Steven’s hair upon a particularly smart swirl of his tongue, breathless praise, calls to Gods and desperate pleas for more more more spilling from your lips. Meeting his ministrations without shame; guiding him, opening up for him as the liquid fire of pleasure spread through your veins, turning into an inferno when you found your thigh on his shoulder, completely out of your doing, an instinct to chase relief – but thoroughly appreciated as Steven’s arm circled your bottom, pulling you impossibly close and loving you deep enough to set you on fire entirely.

You let the primal hunger consume you as you climbed to your peak, crying out when you reached it, head spinning from the intensity; waves of bliss washed over you, body pliant and relaxed. You shrieked when you suddenly found yourself losing your footing, for a brief moment frustratingly empty and cold; and then you were spread on the table, your lover’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, burning blue gaze swallowed by lust firmly set on your face as two thick fingers entered you, latching onto the last aftershocks of your peak. You reached a second high with dizzying speed, unable to tear your gaze away from your giving – and so, so wicked – lover. Gods could possess you at that moment and you would have not felt as if you ascended to such heights as you had while indulging on Earthly pleasures with him.

A soft trail of kisses and pets soothed you as you came down, a breathless chuckle bleeding into a sob when you noticed few of your possessions floating in the air, your magic quite literally having exploded outside of you.

Steven’s lips curled into a smile against your jaw and then you were tasting your essence – as well his much-satisfied grin – on your tongue, revelling in the warm weight of his body covering yours. It seemed your Steven had a few magic tricks up his sleeve too, mind-reading being one of them. You smiled into the kiss, using your grip on his hair to pull him even closer. He could never be close enough; and as he stood between your spread legs, his hard bulge brushing against your bare core, his lips and hands eager, you were certain he felt just the same.

“So beautiful for me,” he whispered to your mouth before retreating, darkened eyes sparkling with lust and pride as well as affection.

“And yours,” you hummed, fingers raking through his beard appreciatively, chuckling when fresh hunger flashed in his pupils. Oh how possessive your knight could be… how much joy it brought you to tease him. “Should I show you?”

A breathy yes was your only answer and so you gripped his shirt, using the fabric for leverage to you sit up. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his garments, gliding over his stomach, your magic flowing freely and healing whichever injuries you had missed earlier.

Easily ridding him of his shirt and pants in between sweet encounters of lips and shedding your clothes as well, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a faint whisper of ‘bed’ enough to have him pick you up without protest; on contrary, with quite the enthusiasm since his hardness throbbed when you led him to sit down with you in his lap.

“Missed you… love you… need you,” you confessed, his breathy voice echoing your sentiments as your lips brushed over every patch of his skin in reach, fingers wrapping around him and guiding him inside you, bliss surrounding you both when you finally sank yourself down his length in one fluid movement.

You rested your forehead against his and simply breathed, living in the moment of utter bliss; a different kind, not the almost primitive one, no, not the wild one. This moment belonged to serenity. Sharing air and warmth with your lover, tender hands appreciating the wide planes of his muscles, strength radiating from flesh and soul alike. And love. Always love.

As if he was able to read your mind once more, his lips sought out yours, a declaration of love indeed, simple, honest and unyielding. His thumb gently traced the pattern of your tattoo, its ink reaching from behind your ear over the side on your neck, a swirl over your left collarbone and spreading over your shoulder. I love you as you are, for all you are, his touch whispered even as no sound left his lips. And even if you felt no shame for your nature, your Steven’s acceptance caressed your soul as did his diligence; not once he had forgotten his ritual of reminding you that with him, your existence was not merely tolerated – but adored and celebrated. When you first understood the significance of this habit of his, tears had stung your eyes, kissed away before they could roll down your cheeks.

“Ľúbim ťa,” you had breathed out then, a love confession in the old language, and ever since, you had not failed to say it once in response to his gesture.

Then, rough fingertips carefully followed the line of a fine silver chain carrying a tear-shaped indigo sapphire, a token of affection usually hidden from plain sight, protected; a promise of faithfulness even as you remained unwed. You had no need for gemstones, but you understood its importance, the significance of the gesture; it made for your heart warm and safe upon its possession and for Steven’s heart lighter a pound of the burden of your circumstance.

Your circumstance was not one of the simple ones, a forbidden love one might say; in which you were the only forbidden thing. Forbidden to even live, let alone love or be loved; an abomination to some. A magic wielder, no doubt seducing the most honourable with her dark powers, for what other reason could be there for him to take liking in you? It mattered not that there was less than a little true to it, that your bond was of much purer nature, as common and as human as the blood you drew from your own veins to cast protection spells over your beloved. True did not matter. Should you reveal your relationship now, Steven would have been painted a victim; and you would have lived no more.

An easy circumstance yours was not at all; but your dedication to each other was to conquer all troubles. And in the meantime, you shall have moments of serenity and of passion, of you and him.

The smallest shift of Steven’s hand pulled from your thoughts, breath hitching when his fingers slid an inch lower, brushing over your nipple. Your hips buckled on instinct, drawing a groan from your lover’s lips, a grip on your bottom encouraging you to move.

Who were you to deny pleasure to you both?

Smiling, you withdrew, index finger covering Steve’s lips as he tried to follow, a discontent furrow to his brow. You tilted your head, thumb brushing over his swollen lips.

“Would you like me to dance still, lover mine?” you inquired teasingly, his disapproval at your actions wiped away in an instant, replaced by fire in his eyes.

Gentle flames of affection battled those of desire, his warm palm caressing over your lower cheeks, before he snapped you impossibly close, causing you to gasp – and to question who it was who had the upper hand here. Your hand fell to his chest, his heart beating wildly under your palm, an answer of its own.

Both then. It seemed you were both on top and simultaneously under the other’s thumb. Such a beautiful thing.  

“Would you, bosorka moja?”

Your smile grew, lips attaching to his once more and planning to remain for as long as possible, first careful rock of your hips the first step to reach for the stars – together this time.

“Oh Steven… for my honourable knight? For you, my love? With pleasure…”

An absent smile played on Steve’s lips, his fingers running up and down your arm, appreciating the softness and warmth of your skin. An air of comfort and contentedness hovered around you as he held you close, fast asleep in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest as if the very sound of his heart against your ear lulled you to peaceful slumber.

Despite the sweetness of the idea, Steve felt his brows furrow in concern. While as he was perfectly happy to serve as a pillow for his beautiful lover, aware there was barely any greater expression of trust than a shared sleep, worry seized him for this occurrence was beyond rare. He once asked whether your incredible magic was an effortless as you made it seem, met with a weary chuckle and a kind, if a little condescending smile and a confession that if seen weak, your kind would have been an easy prey. Having understood he had taken your answer as a testimony to the lack of trust you had laid in him, you had also admitted that while the teachings of your ancestors had been deeply ingrained in your instincts, part of your reluctance to show your weakness to him was precisely what weighted his conscience just now. You simply could not be bothered to make him fret too much.

The fact you had let sleep take you alone was truly worrisome and Steve pondered just how exhausted you must have been. Even as the fresh memory of your breathless pleas for more and the cries of pleasure as you rode him till you both tasted heaven were nothing short of precious to him, he could not but wonder whether he was taking too much; your magic healing his wounds, your body a sanctuary to his love and fears.

Perhaps he had. But who could ever blame him?

Steven had never known a woman like this – unafraid to give, just as unshy to take; one or the other, but never like this. He had fallen for you and had fallen hard, body and soul. Yes, should anyone call him selfish, they would not be wrong, because Gods, did he take what he craved and lusted – and yet. Yet, every moment with you felt ethereally right as your still unconscious form drifted closer, almost as if you sensed his thoughts and wished for them to evaporate. And so far, they always had, dissolved in your easy smile when you refused his offer and plea to come with him; to bring you to the castle with him so he could give as well, give more, provide and protect and worship you in his home, your new home, true home where you would not have to hide in the middle of the woods like some sort of an abomination.

It is not the time yet, my love. It will come, you would always say, washing away his guilt with a sweet kiss and a promise. One day. One day I shall come with you and we should be unabashedly happy with no fear, free to be you and me.

He had let your words and touch sooth him, always; but not today. Your body having melted into his had his protective instinct flare up, determination set in his very heart. He should convince you today, to make you his and him yours as two people in love deserved. He shall make an honest woman of you in the eyes of the whole kingdom at last. It was what you were worthy of, for you were worthy of anything and everything. And with you… he believed he deserved the same. He could not stand it anymore. Parting ways with you, only to hope for your next stolen moment to come the very minute after he had left. He could no longer bear you existing so close and yet so far out of his reach.

No, he shall convince you today, insist more than ever. He wanted this, he wished for nothing more than to lay to sleep like this every night, with you. You deserved it. You deserved the world and he shall lay it to your feet, for his honour and his benefit at once.

Any other day, you would have berated yourself for having fallen asleep; but knowing the changes your body was going through, weariness settling in sooner than it used to, it only brought a smile to your face when you found yourself waking to Steven’s tender fingers carding through your hair.

The night was slowly falling. Wandering the woods in darkness would have been an unnecessary risk for anyone, even for a skilled knight with your protective spell over him;  your lover was more than aware of it and still, you could tell it pained him to bring you out of your slumber nevertheless. It was no feat to kiss his guilt away, smiles adorning your faces, noses caressing, hands wandering, nearly leading you back into the clutches of lust.

He sat patiently on your bed now, half dressed as you took your blade, his eyes following your every move with more attention than ever as he absently sipped chamomile tea; he found himself deep in thought, such was obvious. It was not difficult to guess where his mind had trailed off to, for it had always been the same.

His voice was soft when he spoke the words, a soft wrinkle on his forehead as your cut your finger and stood between his spread legs.

“Come with me.”

A sad smile played in the corner of your lips as your heart fluttered at his plea, one he never failed to deliver, even as your sigh must have sounded weary every time.

“I cannot. Not yet.”

Steven was no half-wit, which was more than could said about many of the people of Starkerbürg. He knew precisely why you could not come; why you never could, at least not yet. Magic was still forbidden – as if it was a choice, as if one could choose to stop breathing and still live – hated for the pain and destruction the dark twisted witches and sorcerers had once left in their wake, misusing magic to spread fear and suffering. It was not just that all magic wielders were still paying the price for what their ancestors had done. It was even less just that you, not having done any harm unless you needed to escape imminent danger to your life, should live a hermit life, too far from your love and lover. Yet it was how times were, still.

But you were no fool either. You could feel Steven’s uneasiness growing heavier every time he left without you, for it went against his very nature, against the need to keep you close, to hold you, to love – to protect you from harm. You had no doubt he would lay his life for you. You could not allow him to do that, not when the time was finally growing near for your love to be cherished as any other, time for your kind to be free. You must not lose him to rushed foolishness. He was no longer only yours to lose.

“I would protect you,” he promised, steely conviction in his husky voice.

As sweet as the sentiment was, you could not but smirk, a knowing gaze reminding him that should the situation require it, you could very well protect yourself, even as your true gift – the one special talent every magic wielder had, naturally developed with barely any practice – was of the healing kind. Should you truly wished, you could burn villages with terrifying ease; gods knew sorcerers and sorceresses had done this and more with a single snap of their fingers.

Steve took no offence in your teasing gaze; but the determination in his own remained unshaken as you begun to draw the protective symbol over his sternum.

“The time is yet come for people to understand the blessings of magic again, for its light to outshine the darkness it had sowed,” you reasoned, as much as it pained you. “The time shall come soon, I promise. It is simply not today, my love.”

Long fingers circled your wrist, gentle but firm, having you cease your movement, your gaze meeting the brilliant blue roaming over your face.

“I miss you. All days, all nights. I-“ he paused, licking his lips, a shadow of hurt passing over his face. “Don’t you?”

Your heart soared, a sigh leaving your lips. Steven was not easy on you today; but your conviction and determination was just as strong as his. You had to be brave and so did he. A few days longer, that would be all you needed. The right time would come. You were certain of it, even as it was nothing but a whisper of intuition in the back of your mind. Wait, the voice said, the time grows near, but you must wait.

“Do not do this, rytier moj,” you scolded Steven, letting gentleness seep into your voice. “It does not suit you. You must know I love you. I miss you too. And I worry. All days. All nights. Therefore…”

You wiggled your fingers, Steven’s shoulders sagging as he released you, an exasperated pout to his lips – unjustly adorable – as you resumed your work. You smiled widely despite your unnerving circumstance; he would give you anything and everything. The knowledge of this, having been reminded by every little gesture, every word he spoke, made for the warmest feeling in your soul.

Content with your handiwork as you drew the last spiral, you had to swallow a chuckle when Steven’s brows furrowed in confusion, head bowing, eyes flickering over the unfamiliar pattern. A triskele instead of a simple two-headed spiral. A symbol speaking more words than your knight could ever imagine in his wildest dreams, you supposed.  

“It’s different.”

Shrugging, you withdrew your hand, calling to your magic to finish the ritual.

“You always draw two spirals connected…” Steve continued, eyes growing large and curious.

“I do”, you agreed softly.

He observed you, intrigued. He had once said he might not understand your power, but he swore he would always try. He would not dare to question your rituals, but you could almost feel how fast his thoughts whirled in a frantic search for an answer. The ritual had remained the same, always, countless times, over and over… why would you steer from it today of all days? What was its significance? What had changed?

Oh Steven. Your sweet, sweet Steven… if he only knew.

“You always say it is about love. The unity of us. You and me,” he said slowly and you nodded, unable to contain your joy any longer, eyes surely glimmering.

“Yes. Our love, you and me. Unity of two.”

His eyes, roaming your face in silent question still, suddenly widened, flickering down and snapping back up as the realization dawned on him, leaving his lips slightly parted.

You simply shrugged, a chuckle shaking your chest, while guilt already began to gnaw at your conscience. You should have not told him, not yet. But how could you have kept it for yourself? How could you have denied yourself a little indulgence, even when knowing nothing could change just yet? You simply wished to see him learn your sweet secret, yours and his, even if for a moment, see he was equally elated.

Your knight did not disappoint you, not that you believed he ever could. His face was a perfect blend of shock and delight, radiating joy and hope and shame and sadness in equal amount as he stammered, shaky hand reaching out to carefully brush his fingers over your belly showing no signs of the treasure growing inside yet.

“You- are you—are we? Oh gods-“ And then, as you predicted, his expression shifted in an instant, determination taking deep root. “Then you must come with me. Allow me to take care of you, to-“

Satisfied and aching at once, you promptly shushed him with your still bloody finger to his lips. A single tear rolled down your cheek; a testimony to happiness, reassured anew of your lover’s goodness and dedication to you. To your family. The wonder, the glimmer of hope and the conviction in Steven’s expression would stay with you till you could grant him his wish.

“The time has not yet come, my love. I share your joy. And your worry,” you whispered through the tightness of your throat, even as a smile adorned your lips. Your finger drew a small cross over his mouth despite the pain it caused you. You had had your moment – and that had to be enough for now. “I am sorry, rytier moj. But you shall not remember this, not yet.”  

Before he could as much as take a breath, you withdrew your hand, the symbols on his chest and lips disappearing with a soft glow. Disoriented, your knight blinked, steadying himself by the hand on your hip even as he remained seated.

With a shaky inhale you composed yourself before he could, leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on his lips, fingers raking through his hair. His hand cradled your jaw, adoring.

“Be careful,” you spoke against his lips, earning another small peck.

“Always.”

You retreated with a huff, shaking your head as you went to find an ointment you knew his friend would soon need.

“You speak as if I did not know you, Steven. A basilisk chimera’s teeth three inches from your throat, I heard? Careful indeed.”

His smile was sheepish as he rose to his full height, tying the top of his shirt before reaching for the garments you had so hastily rid him of earlier.

“I always try. The idea that should I fail, I shall never see you again… it can be quite a motivation,” he sweet-talked, succeeding just a bit in softening your exasperation.

Perhaps the vision of him dutifully putting on his armour, making his frame appear even larger – and protected – calmed you further.

“Well, Steven, try harder,” you snipped, pressing a tiny pot into his hand, earning a raised brow. “And take this to Peter, the wound on his leg was already turning foul. And this…”

You reached for a salve you had prepared for when a wave of nausea had taken you by surprise, dipped your finger in the dark substance and carefully patted it over Steven’s brow where his cut had been. You did not expect Steven to feel nauseous – after all he was not the one carrying a new life under his heart – but the colour was convenient. A cut healing so rapidly would have casted a dangerous suspicion on whoever he had interacted with – or worse, on Steven himself. You could not have that.

He observed you softly as you tended to him, adding a small tap where a bruise had begun to form earlier on his cheekbone. He did not utter a word until you were satisfied with your work. Once your hands fell to your sides, his own framed your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth again, a bittersweet goodbye.

“Always so meticulous and careful… always so good. Taking care of me, of my friends…” he mused, breathing you in one last time, hovering, hesitating more than usual. Almost, almost as if your spell had not worked and he still knew. As if he still knew precisely what he was leaving behind this time. “Take care of the person most precious to me too? Until I come back again?”

There might be two of those for you now, you thought, the memory of his delight flashing in your mind, bringing a smile to your lips as you nuzzled into his touch and kissed his palm.

Looking up at his face, you echoed his own reassurance. “Always.”

With one last kiss and hearts as heavy as light, you declared your love to each other. You walked him out quietly, watching him disappear between the trees, his gaze turning to you several times, always finding you standing at the doorstep of his true home, a tender smile on your lips.

Once he was out of sight, you released a sigh, hand settling over your belly, a tear stinging in your eye despite the corners of your lips having been turn upwards.

Yes. The time was yet to come for the people to see again the blessings of magic. For now… the blessing of love already bloomed and it was enough.

Očaruj mě - Bewitch Me (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

Ochraňuj mě - Protect Me (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this one

Complete masterlist

Yes, I’m mixing symbols, I know… do I care? Nope.

Terms of endearment/addressing used from Slovak language: bosorka moja = witch mine rytier môj = knight mine ľubim ťa = I love you

Thank you for reading!💕 I wrote it in between really difficult exams in the ocourse of two months and it needed a LOT of editing afterwards too, so... feedback is, as always, appreciated 🥰

[anika-ann]

The most beautiful filth🤤 perfection✨ we love Steve written like this, you never disappoint💕

Now gimme a minite or an hour to catch my breath again 🥲🥲

are you praying to me is most definitely super hard blood ran out of his brain feeling like a god steve. it’s the side most people don’t see the slow grown bedroom confidence absolutely

a/n: SO this was supposed to be super passionate and romantic... but then steve came out of nowhere like THAT, ready to corrupt. 1.2k words. title is from miyavi’s holy nights (but here’s this awesome cover by lisa remar).

warnings: i’m a heretic. steve’s a bad boy. explicit smut. 18+ only please.

brooklyn after dark masterlist

holy nights*

It's been a long session.

Steve is slick from head to toe, hot, panting breaths pushed through his chest, all the covers and pillows long kicked off the bed because he can't stand being touched by anything other than your skin. 

He's sure there's still a living world out there past the suffocating smell of sex and the sounds you make—clawing at the headboard, shivering his name—but that world’s for much later. That world is for a Steve who isn't out of his mind, who isn't buried inside of you.

He’s in rare form tonight, feeling slightly out of his body riding a high he wasn’t expecting. It’s not like there’s any special occasion—no birthday, anniversary, no Steve attempting an egregiously poor bet with a suggestive favor on the line just because he wanted the excuse to make your tummy flutter.

The excuse to sleep with you for the first time.

You just… came over.

Walked in with a paper bag of summer fruit and when he helped you load them into the fridge you thanked him with a quick peck to the cheek. And then you kissed him again, on his temple, and then he kissed you back in the same places innocently—cheek, temple—and decided that the juice at the point of your smile after biting into a ripe strawberry would have been nice to taste.

It was fresh and sweet, like the way you giggled with surprise into his mouth, and the sound of your laughter and how your fingers curled into his hair was good enough reason as any.

You’re shy, so he played it slow. Dangled a more intense alternative on the tip of his tongue, lapped at your cupid’s bow playfully until he heard confirmation. He walked you into the countertop, caged you in with his arms on both sides of your waist, letting his forehead rest on yours, and by the time he let you have it, let you kiss him like it was your idea in the first place, and he felt you mold your body against his, he saw the end.

It’ll be trumpets and fanfare and the heavens parting. It’ll be exactly what he’s been aching for.

It’s a remarkable thing, being love with you—you being in love with him—that makes him dangerous. That reveals something depraved inside his sainted heart—the glorious dichotomy of a man like Steve.

He’s going to rip you free from sweetness. He wants you somewhere sacred and dark that’ll make you forget the world, too.

You whine his name from beneath, thighs shaking.

He only tuts, “Don’t pull away,” and places a splayed hand between your shoulder blades, gazing at how you sink low with his touch. He presses lightly, like a suggestion, and you fold to it, flattening your upper body to the mattress, elbows tucked to your sides, fisting at nothing in an effort to devote yourself to him.

Shadows are curling over your muscles, candlelight making the sweat on your back glisten like starlight. Your hair is a collapsed mess of halo, a damp shroud that shifts when you turn your face to the side.

And, lord, he has to catch his breath.

On all fours with your pretty, pretty face, so wrecked and open and starved for his approval because new relationships are desperate like that. Beneath conventional acts of affection lies reckless desire like a curbed animal, knowing exactly where the other person is by scent alone, waiting for their hand to unclasp the restraints.

And he’s done exactly that.

Kiss-stung lips and wet lashes, the glassy quality of your eyes as you give him your best effort at attentiveness. He doesn’t know if you quite realize how much he loves seeing you with your guard down, pushed to your limit and struggling to keep up—to make him proud.

You whimper when he takes his time with stroking your spine, pressing his thumbs to the dips at your lower back and rolling his hips in lazy circles, wiping the sweat off your cheek, shushing gently in your ear because it’s still a delicate balance of trust and control.

He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you in place while he works himself deeper from behind, hissing as he watches how you tremble. He’s still inside you when he stretches one of your arms, then the other, up past your head, maneuvering until both your wrists are clamped beneath his palm.

“Shh,” Steve coos as you jerk with the new angle he’s dragged you into, spine flexed like a cat stretching, “I know, baby, but you need to stay. Don’t pull away from me.”

You squirm by way of reply, but nod faintly, feverish.

“Stay here,” he curves over your back, shifts his legs until he’s got more leverage and licks up your ear. “Keep me, here, in you, just like this.” 

“Oh—"

He smirks, “Oh?”

“Oh my god…!” It’s a small shout, and it makes Steve’s spine light up as you rub your face further into the pillow.

“Praying to me, sweetheart?” but doesn’t stop those tiny, hard circles, doesn’t stop melting into your body, his dick pulsing as it grinds against your walls. “You can keep doing that,” he urges, “I like that.”

He’s breathless, same as you, but he nudges at your face with his nose, gets in with a clever angle to mouth at you, landing on your jaw and lips and everywhere between. He wants to taste his own name from your tongue, wants to savor the delirium in your sloppy kisses, the pleasure like agony that prickles across your brow.

“I’m so hard, baby. So deep in you. I want you coming, baby. I want you all mine.”

You drily sob out something broken, a tiny echo of affirmation as he keeps licking at your teeth, fucking into you like he could break through. He’s really abused your pussy tonight, maybe gone too far, especially for the first time together, but every time you climax like this, Steve feels like he’s witnessing a miracle and what can he do but worship it, seek it out again?

Especially when you’re just… letting him?

He can’t help but groan softly, his chest fluttering when you yelp at another orgasm, and Steve liberates your wrists to hold you close, sucking on your neck and jaw, weathering the sudden knock your shoulder gives him when you shudder almost violently.

And you’re unbelievable like this. Turned on your side, glowing and gasping in his arms, so vulnerable and helpless and—yes, god.

“Gonna come again,” you murmur, voice watery and body limp. Even the leg hooked behind his waist is dead weight, but he only grips your ass, angles your hips right.

You’re exactly where he wants you.

Your bottom lip goes between your teeth, eyes so far glazed over he probably doesn’t even register as corporeal anymore. Your pupils are blown out dark before you blink them into the back of your head, lids squeezed shut, lost to the living world.

“Gonna come,” you repeat hysterically in tongues, “gonnacomegonnacome— gonna—”

Hallelujah, heaven on high, Steve’s seen the end—and it’s all his.