#steve rogers x reader

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

Writing fanfiction isn't enough anymore I need that character to kiss me breathless

[buckets-and-trees]

Okay. But viking!Steven feral AF after a battle and storming into your home and beelining straight for his little bride to get out all of that excess adrenaline 😳🕳️💦

Come Down from Battle

Characters/Pairings: Viking King Steve Rogers x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 2.4k

Content/Warnings: DARK established relationship - kidnapped wife; explicit smut: rough sex, oral (male receiving), unprotected vaginal intercourse, light breastplay, insemination; use of pet name (little wife); dirty talk; implied breeding kink; discussion of producing children

Notes: Takes place 6-8 weeks after So Black the Darkness Hums. And just a little more of my viking research: a kongsgård is a dwelling for a king or magnate, had a great hall, residential quarters, etc, but not as big or grand as a castle.

Additional Note: Why not cold viking King Steven on birthday eve/the eighth night of my Birthday Jubilee celebration?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The kongsgård bustles with activity as word spreads of the king's return. You hear the commotion from your chambers - shouts, the clatter of armor, heavy footsteps. Your heart races with fear and anticipation, knowing Steven will soon arrive, and you make your way to the great hall to greet him as all the household is expected to do.

The door bursts open and Steven storms through, still clad in his blood-stained armor. His eyes, wild with the remnants of battle-fury, scan the room until they land on you. Without a word, he strides towards you, ignoring all others, his massive frame radiating power and barely contained energy.

"My little wife," he growls, voice rough from shouting commands. His hands, still gloved in leather, grasp your face as he crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. The metallic tang of blood mingles with his familiar taste.

“Come,” he commands, grabbing your arm and pulling you along. You stumble after him before recovering your footing as he drags you through the winding corridors of the Kongsgård, his grip unyielding, undeterred until he has you in your chambers.

Steven slams the heavy wooden door behind you, the sound echoing through the room. His hands are already working at the fastenings of his armor, shedding pieces haphazardly onto the floor. You move to assist him, fingers trembling slightly as you help remove the blood-stained leather and metal.

As the last piece falls away, Steven grabs you again, spinning you around and pressing you against the wall. His body cages you in, hot and solid against your back. You feel his breath, heavy and ragged, against your neck.

"I've thought of nothing but you for days," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "The heat of battle, the clash of steel - none of it compares to the fire you ignite in me."

You shiver at his words, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through you. In the two months since he took you from your village, you've grown accustomed to his rough passion - come to crave it at times - even though you are still tentative of this powerful warrior king. But there's something different in his eyes tonight - a wildness, an intensity that both thrills and terrifies you.

His hands roam your body, rough and possessive, as if relearning every curve and plane. You gasp as he yanks at the laces of your dress, tearing the fabric in his haste to get to your bare skin. The cool air hits your exposed flesh, raising goosebumps across your body.

"Steven," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You're home safe. There's no need to rush-"

He silences you with another bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands continue their frantic exploration of your body. You taste blood on his lips - whether his or an enemy's, you're not sure.

Steven's mouth descends on your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks. His beard scratches against your sensitive skin as he works his way down to your shoulder. One large hand cups your breast, kneading roughly, while the other snakes down to hike up your skirts.

"I need you," he growls against your skin. "Now."

You hear the rustle of fabric as he frees himself from his breeches. Without warning, he lifts you, pinning you against the wall with his body. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

Your breath catches as you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Despite your body's automatic response to his touch, you're not fully ready for him. But Steven doesn't wait. With a powerful thrust, he sheathes himself inside you, tearing a cry from your throat.

The stretch burns, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you gasping. Steven doesn't give you time to adjust, setting a brutal pace as he pounds into you against the wall. His hands grip your thighs hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he takes his pleasure.

"Mine," he growls, his voice rough with exertion and possessiveness. "Say it. Tell me you're mine."

"Yours," you gasp, the word torn from your lips as he hits a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. "I'm yours, Steven."

His pace increases, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. The rough stone scrapes against your back, but you barely notice the pain, overwhelmed by the sensations Steven is wringing from your body. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck, clinging to him as he ravages you.

"That's right," Steven growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Mine. My little bride, my conquest, my queen."

His words send a shiver through you. Despite everything, despite the circumstances that brought you here, you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at being claimed so thoroughly by this powerful man. Your body responds to him instinctively, inner walls clenching around his thick length as he pounds into you relentlessly.

Steven's hand snakes between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs since he loves to watch you fall apart for him. His rough fingers circle and press, drawing gasps and moans from your lips. The dual sensations of his cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers on your clit quickly build the tension in your core.

"Come for me, little wife," Steven commands, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Let me feel you come undone around my cock."

Your back arches as waves of pleasure crash over you, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around Steven's thick length. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder in his arms.

Steven groans at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, milking him.

He turns away from the wall and carries you to the bed. Despite your big size, you are nothing but a small and delicate thing to him, giant viking that he is. The physicality, his prowess, it’s more of what makes you weak for him.

Steven tosses you onto the bed, your body bouncing slightly on impact. Before you can catch your breath, he's on you, flipping you onto your stomach and yanking your hips up. You feel his cock, still hard and slick with your juices, pressing against your entrance once more.

"Only getting started, little wife," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

With one powerful thrust, he sheathes himself inside you again. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your oversensitive flesh protesting the renewed assault. Steven sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with bruising force. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he takes his pleasure.

"So tight," he grunts, his breath coming in harsh pants. "Always so perfect for me."

One of his hands snakes around to your front, groping your breast before tweaking the nipple, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through your hypersensitive body. You gasp and moan for him.

"That's it," he growls. "Let me hear you, little wife. Let everyone in the Kongsgård know how well your king pleases you."

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you. The thought of others hearing your cries of passion, knowing that you're being thoroughly claimed by your warrior king, is both mortifying and thrilling. Your cheeks burn with shame even as your body responds eagerly to Steven's touch.

"Tell me how it feels," Steven demands, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

A whimper escapes your lips as you struggle to form coherent thoughts. "It's... it's so much," you manage to gasp out. "You fill me so completely, my king."

Steven's hand tightens around your neck, yanking your head back. "Not enough," he snarls. "I want to hear how desperately you crave me. How you ache for my touch when I'm gone."

His words send a shiver down your spine. It's true - despite your initial resistance, you've come to crave Steven's touch during his absences. The intensity of his passion, the way he makes your body sing with pleasure - it's intoxicating. And though you try to fight it, to hold onto memories of your old life, you find yourself sinking into this new life.

"I... I think of you constantly when you're gone," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I dream of your hands on my body, of the way you fill me so completely."

Steven's pace quickens at your words, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "As you should." he says, his voice strained with exertion but satisfied and proud.

His hand snakes around to your front again, fingers finding your sensitive bud. He circles it roughly, drawing gasps and moans from your lips. The dual sensations of his thick cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers on your clit quickly rebuild the tension in your core.

"Come for me again, little wife," Steven commands. "Show me how much you've missed your king's touch."

Your body obeys, trembling and clenching around him as another orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, your fingers grasping desperately at the furs beneath you. Steven groans at the feeling of your inner walls pulsing around him, his thrusts becoming erratic.

With a final thrust, Steven buries himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he reaches his own release. You feel the hot rush of his seed filling you, and a small part of you wonders if this time it will take root. The thought sends a confusing mix of emotions through you - worry, excitement, resignation.

Steven collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the furs. For a moment, the only sound in the room is your mingled panting as you both struggle to catch your breath. His body is slick with sweat, the scent of battle and sex heavy in the air.

Slowly, Steven rolls to the side, pulling you with him so that your back is pressed against his chest. His arm drapes possessively over your waist, holding you close. You can feel his heartbeat thundering against your back, gradually slowing to a steadier rhythm.

"My little wife,” he presses a kiss to your shoulder, “greatest conquest and treasure.”

Steven's arm tightens around your waist, his calloused hand splaying possessively across your stomach. His touch is not gentle or loving, but claiming - a reminder that you belong to him now, body and soul. You feel the scratch of his beard against your shoulder as he speaks, his voice low and commanding.

"You've done well, little wife," he says, his tone more satisfied than affectionate. "You're learning to please your king."

His words send a shiver down your spine - a mix of pride and shame that you've come to associate with his praise. You hate yourself for craving his approval, for the way your body responds so eagerly to his touch. But you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at his words.

Steven's hand moves up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple. "Soon, you'll give me strong sons," he says, his tone matter-of-fact. "They'll be fierce warriors, like their father. And perhaps a daughter or two, to cement alliances with other clans.”

His words send a chill through you. You imagine a child with Steven's fierce blue eyes and blonde hair, and something stirs in your chest.

"And what of me?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "What am I to you, beyond a vessel for your heirs?"

Steven is silent for a long moment, his hand stilling on your breast. When he speaks, his voice is low and intense. "You are my conquest, my prize," he says. "But you are also my queen. I will defend you and keep you by my side. Your loyalty and devotion will please me greatly."

His words are possessive, but there's an undercurrent of something else - perhaps not quite affection, but a fierce protectiveness that makes your heart race. You feel both comforted and conflicted by his declaration.

Steven's hand resumes its exploration of your body, rough calluses scraping against your sensitive skin. "And in return," he continues, his voice a low rumble against your ear, "you will give me your obedience, your body, and your heart."

You shiver at his words, knowing that he already has more of your heart than you'd like to admit. The life you left behind feels like a distant dream now, fading more with each passing day.

"Yes, my king," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Steven's hand moves to cup your face, turning you to look at him.

"You've pleased me greatly, little wife," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "Perhaps more than I expected when I claimed you."

His words send a flutter through your chest, a warmth you try to suppress. You know you shouldn't crave his approval, shouldn't feel this surge of pride at pleasing him. But you can't help the way your body responds to his touch, the way your heart races at his praise.

Steven leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's surprisingly soft compared to his earlier ferocity. His beard scratches against your skin as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive thoroughness.

When he pulls away, Steven's eyes darken with renewed desire as he regards you. Without a word, he sits up against the headboard, his muscular frame on full display. His hand cups your cheek, guiding you down his body with gentle but insistent pressure.

You know what he wants without him having to speak. Your heart races as you move lower, trailing kisses down his chest and abdomen. His skin is hot beneath your lips, marred here and there with scars from countless battles. You trace one long scar with your tongue, feeling Steven's muscles tense at the sensation.

When you reach his cock, already half-hard again, you hesitate for just a moment. Steven's hand moves to the back of your neck, urging you on. Slowly, you take him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his considerable girth.

Steven groans, a deep rumble that you feel as much as hear. His hand tightens at your nape as you take him deeper, guiding your movements. You hollow your cheeks, sucking as you bob your head up and down his length. His cock swells and hardens fully in your mouth, stretching your jaw.

"That's it, little wife," Steven growls, his voice thick with pleasure. "Show your king how much you truly missed him."

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | S.R.

feat. Steve Rogers x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You and Steve broke up, but life as an assassin for SHIELD goes on, no matter how grueling. little did you know, Steve was suffering too, and reality is far from how it appears.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, breakups, protective!Steve, assassin work, mentions of blood and death, Steve is a bit of a munch (but he still tops you), happy ending

AN: inspired by "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart" by Taylor Swift from her album The Tortured Poets Department.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Steve left you on a random Tuesday afternoon. No fanfare, no warning, no discussion. He barely even looked at you when he shattered your heart.

In the two years you'd known him, and the six months you loved him, you'd never seen him so callous. He'd looked at motorcycles with more affection than he looked at you in that moment.

You didn't understand, couldn't understand, but it didn't matter. Your relationship was over, and your life felt like a held breath ever since.

He said he'd love you all his life, but for a man that's been alive for a century, six months was barely a blip. You were barely a blip.

But you couldn't dwell, couldn't break down like you wanted to, because you were one of the top assassin's at SHIELD, and missions didn't care about your feelings.

So you were sent out into the field, day after day, week after week, with a smile on your face and your shoulders thrown back, never ever missing your mark. And still, SHIELD demanded more of you.

Fortunately, you could do it with a broken heart.

“Agent L/N, report to Fury’s office for assignment,” the earpiece in your ear crackled to life, jarring you from the workout you were pretending to do.

“Another one? Seriously?” Nat said, looking up from the squat rack, sweat glistening along her hairline.

You shrugged. “The fun never stops,” you said with a half-hearted smile, and she rolled her eyes, returning to her reps.

As quick as you could, you pulled an oversized hoodie over your sports bra and retied your ponytail, which has fallen into sweaty disarray during your workout.

Normally, you'd change into your suit, but when Fury called, he didn't like to be kept waiting.

You take the elevator direct to his office, and when the doors roll open, you're greeted by Nick Fury, Sergeant Barnes, and, of course, the back of Steves head.

His hair has grown a little longer since you were together, and your fingers itched to run through it, to scratch his scalp in the way that makes his dark lashes flutter, to tug on his roots in the way that makes him groan low in his throat…

You shook yourself and slapped on a smile. “Good morning, Nick,” you chirped, sauntering into the room.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, offering as close to a smile as he could manage. “Have a seat.”

You perched on the edge of Bucky’s table, and he gave you a stiff nod in greeting . Steve didn't look up from the open file in front of him, but you could tell by the angle of his shoulders that he wasn't happy.

Nausea twisted in your stomach, your heart splintering a bit further, but you kept your expression pleasant.

“Would it kill you two to be a little more cheerful?” Fury quipped, and Bucky snorted. “Could all use a little more sunshine around here.” Fury winked at you, and you winked back.

Steve’s fingers tightened on the file, but you chalked it up to its contents.

“Little Miss Stabs-a-lot seems to be managing just fine for all of us,” Bucky said, his voice dry even though his eyes were smiling.

That's you, managing just fine.

Fury chuckled and passed you a similar file to Steves. “Your target is Lugoff Isaacson, HYDRA weapons director.”

You flipped through the file, finding a laundry-list of diabolical misdeeds, as well as a number of altercations with the two men beside you.

“Dinosaur’s couldn't hack it?” You teased, but only Nick laughed.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Isaacson lives like a hermit, and the only people allowed in his company are fellow HYDRA agents—” Nick paused, bracing his hands on the desk. “And pretty women.”

You heard Steve's teeth grind together, and Bucky glanced over at him, but you kept your eyes on your boss. “When do I leave?” You asked, already rising.

“Nick, she can't go in there with Isaacson alone,” Steve snapped, pushing the file away from him. His voice was rough and low, menacing, and it sent a chill up your spine.

“She certainly can,” Nick rebuffed. “Unless you want to go with her?”

Steve glared at Nick, so sharp it was practically lethal, but didn't say another word.

You felt like he stomped your heart beneath his boot, and were seized by the urge to fall at his feet and beg for a reason why he would do this to you. But instead, you flipped through the file, finding your orders in the back. “Flights at 2:30. I need to pack and get a blowout. I'll update when I land.” You tucked the file under your arm, blew Nick a kiss, and flitted back to the elevator, not sparing Steve a second glance.

He certainly wouldn't look back at you.

“How many is that this month?” You heard Bucky ask as the doors started to roll closed.

“15,” Fury answered, pride clear in his voice. “She's our most productive assassin to date.”

Steve's POV

“Don't give me that look, Rogers,” Fury droned, avoiding Steve's eye.

“She's not some goddamn chess piece you can just play however you want,” he bit, barely contained anger simmering underneath the surface. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his mouth shut during that meeting, to not grab you around the middle and run for the fucking hills.

The thought of Isaacson, that slimy rat laying a hand on you—it made Steve's mind bleed red with rage. He knew you could handle him, knew you'd make quick, clean work of the kill, but the things you'd have to endure to get that perfect opportunity…

He couldn't bear it.

“Thats exactly what she is,” Fury said, snatching the file from in front of Steve. “It's what you all are.”

Bucky scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, and Steve rose from his chair, bracing his hands on the table to lean into Fury’s smug face.

“I'm done playing your fucking games. And if you think I won't take her and leave, then you don't know me very well,” he growled.

Bucky got to his feet, metallic arm flexing as tensions mounted.

“Oh, I know you, Cap. I know you'll do whatever you need to do, move wherever the fuck I want you to move, so she stays on the damn board. Right?”

Steve grit his teeth. “And when we leave, whose going to come after us? Him?” He gestured to Bucky. “Nat? Thor? Quill? Whose it gonna be?”

Fury narrowed his eye.

“Because here's the thing you've never understood. Without us, there is no fucking SHIELD. You broke us up so she'd be free to your dirty work right? Without my interference?”

Fury scoffed and went to back away, but Bucky was standing directly behind him, blocking any escape route.

“She likes it—”

“It's killing her.” Steve cut him off. “When's the last time she had a day off? A vacation? A job that wasn't too hard for another agent, but too low profile to send us? Hm? Call her fucking sunshine while your burying her alive.”

“Steve,” Bucky warned, and the table cracked beneath Steve's hands.

“It ends now. Either SHIELD takes care of her, or I do.” Steve pushed off the desk and stormed out of the room, taking the stairs to get to the control room faster.

Nat was already there. “She just got to her apartment. Steve, she's—”

“I want eyes on her 24/7, and a team waiting to deploy within twenty miles of Isaacson bunker,” he ordered.

A chorus of ‘yessir’s’ answered him, and he sunk down in the vacant swivel chair, steepling his fingers as he watched the entrance to your apartment building, a SHIELD van idling just outside.

“Cap, listen.” Nat leaned against the control panel beside him. “This has to end, before she fucks up.”

“I know—”

“No, you don't. At this level of burnout, one misstep and that's it.”

“I know!” He barked, and the surveillance workers all jumped. “I'm fixing this. I just need a little more time.”

“She might not have time.” Nat pushed off the panel. “It might not be this mission, but it could be the next one, or the next. Stop being a fucking coward and fix it before it's too late.” She stormed off, leaving Steve staring at the monitors, his heart in his throat.

He was going to fix this. He had to fix this, before he lost you for good.

You hurried out of your apartment, dressed in slacks and blouse, wrapped up in a leather trenchcoat. The driver jumped out to greet you and took your bag, and you slipped into the backseat.

He flipped the camera to the car feed, a wonky fisheye from the dashboard, and saw you check your mascara in the mirror, faint smudges of black under your eyes, your nose kissed pink.

You'd been crying.

“I'm gonna fix it, baby,” he muttered to himself, wishing you could hear him somehow. “I promise.”

Reader's POV

You took out Isaacson without any issues, just smiled and tried to ignore the way he groped your thighs, ogled your tits. He made it too easy to slit his throat.

And as soon as you returned, there was another assignment, and another, and another, until you didn't even bother going home anymore. Which was well enough for you. You didn't care to sleep in the bed Steve held you in, or the couch you'd watched his favorite black and white movies on. Didn't care to eat in the kitchen where you taught him to make your mother's signature recipe, or shower in the stall he'd washed your hair in when you were sick. It was better to stay away from all the little reminders that you didn't imagine the whole thing.

You pretended to love being busy, treated every mission like a birthday gift, and pushed forward. Until, you were assigned to work at the Winter Gala.

SHIELD hosted the annual event as an excuse for the team to rub elbows with politicians, diplomats, and executives. You'd be masquerading as a guest, of course, but in reality you were on intel duty, eavesdropping on conversations and flirting trade secrets out of the most powerful people in the world.

One of the few perks of still being anonymous to the world.

You were dreading it. A night filled with romantic music, dancing, and drinks, watching Steve schmooze with women twice as wealthy and twice as powerful as you? You'd rather choke on your own dagger. But you were determined to look fabulous, a young woman in her glittering prime, and maybe you'd feel something besides emptiness.

Tony had a gorgeous ball gown sent to your apartment that probably cost more than your annual salary, and you spent three hours on your hair and makeup for the occasion, mainly because you kept crying it off. But at the last minute you steeled yourself and carpooled with Nat to Stark Tower.

She wolf whistled as you climbed into the car, looking downright stunning herself. “I know I'm not supposed to comment, but that fossil is going to lose his fucking mind.” She chuckled, tearing off down the street.

“Lose his mind?” You snorted inelegantly. “I can barely get a ‘hello’ out of him.”

Nat looked at you sidelong, the expression sharpened by her eyeliner. “And why do you think that is, babe?”

You didn't dare comment, didn't dare think about it. You'd never get through the night if you clung to a razor thin thread of hope.

The party was in full swing when you arrived, and you came in separately from Nat to forgo any suspicion. With a glass of champagne in hand, you circled the party, trying to tune out your own thoughts so you could absorb all the conversations going on around you.

But the noise completely stopped when your eyes met Steve's across the room.

He was dressed in an immaculately tailored Navy blue suit, with a crisp white shirt and brown leather loafers. His hair was styled back from his face, his beard freshly trimmed, and he was staring at you like hunter through a scope.

“Y/n, sweetheart, come with me for a moment,” Tony appeared to your left, startling you out of your reverie. “There's someone I want you to meet.” He winked, and you flashed a toothy smile, even though you felt like screaming.

“Lead the way, Mr. Stark,” you cooed, for the benefit of anyone in earshot.

Tony led you away, but you could feel Steve's eyes burning a hole in your back, tracking you through the crowd.

“Alex, this is Lydia, the daughter of a colleague of mine. You both attended Stanford!” Tony lied through his teeth to a handsome, dark haired gentleman, and you picked it up without delay.

“Oh, of course! It's such a pleasure to finally meet you!” You gushed, sliding onto the stool beside the stranger. “Tell me, what was your favorite time of year on campus?” You brushed your fingers along his forearm, noting the model of the Rolex on his wrist, the designer of his suit.

“Fall, of course. Can't beat those colors,” Alex grinned, and you fawned like it was the most ground breaking thing you'd ever heard.

Tony left you to it, and twenty minutes later you were tucked into a booth with Alex, his arm slung over your shoulders, and his phone face up and unlocked right in front of you. Oblivious to the way you scanned every message that came through.

Alex leaned closer, his nose brushing the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow a shiver of revulsion. His hand came up to cup your cheek as you wracked you mind for a way out of this—

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Trevais, but I need to steal Lydia for a moment.” Nat appeared suddenly beside the table, looking smug, and Alex scowled.

“Right now? Really?” He argued.

“I'm afraid so.” Nat batted her lashes and Alex immediately caved.

“Fine, I'll see you later then?” He winked, alluding to the room key he slipped into your bag a few minutes prior.

“Perhaps.” You winked back, playing coy, and he grinned like a fool. “What's going on?” You hissed as Nat led you out of the party and down an dark, empty hall. "I was in the middle of something—"

“You'll see,” she whispered back, stopping at a door and doing a quick sweep before pulling it open and ushering you inside.

The door slammed shut behind you.

“Nat, what—”

The lights came on in the room, dim and golden to reveal the luxurious study you were standing in, all black leather and granite, shelves of books and expensive furniture.

But you barely registered any of that, because Steve Rogers was waiting for you by the window. Moonlight kissed his face, highlighting the flawless angles on his bone structure, and your mouth ran dry, your heart falling through the floor.

“Uh, is there a problem, Captain Rogers?” You asked, propping up the professional barrier despite the urge to launch yourself at him, the need to kiss him, or strangle him, pushing against the underside of your skin.

When he looked at up you, the air was sucked from the room. His eyes were stormy, fogged with sorrow, water collecting on his lower lashes.

“You really have turned espionage into an art form,” he chuckled, his voice thick with emotion. “Like you're having the time of your life.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“But that's not true, is it? You're as miserable as I am.”

You shook your head. “I—I’m fine.”

He huffed a laugh, pushing off the window sill. “You put on a good act, honey. But I can tell when you're performing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, indignation flaring in your gut. “What do you want, Steve? You haven't spoken to me in months.”

He grimaced, a look of genuine pain crossing his face. “Y/n, I—”

“You disappeared for two weeks after dumping me out of the blue. You refuse to take missions within a hundred miles of me. You won't even train at the same time." You were yelling, unable to stop once you started. You'd kept it all bottled up for so long, there was no forcing it back now. "You've barely looked at me, Steve! It's like we never happened, like I made it all up in my head!”

“Because it was killing me!” He shouted back, and you flinched, tears pricking behind your eyes. You could count on one hand the amount of times Steve Rogers raised his voice, and it was never at you.

“You left me!” You yelled, your voice cracking at the edges.

“Because I had no choice! They gave me no choice.”

Your stomach dropped. “W-what?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to regain his composure. “Fury, SHIELD, they threatened to send you overseas if I didn't. To some desolate base in Russia.”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. This couldn't be real. “Steve, that doesn't make sense—”

“You really think I would leave you like that? That I would just throw away what we had? I was trying—” his voice caught in his throat. “I thought I was protecting you. But they lied to me.”

You were shaking your head, backing away. You couldn’t take any more empty words, any more bullshit—

Steve rushed toward you, catching your face in his large hands before you could turn away. “Baby, listen to me,” he said, softening. “They wanted me out of the way so you would be more likely to do whatever they wanted. When we were together, we were working less, we were happier, we cared about something that wasn't SHIELD, and they couldn't stand it.”

“But Fury—”

“Is a manipulative fuck that took advantage of your broken heart.” You gasped at his language, usually reserved for sex or intense fighting. Steve lowered himself to his knees, his hands gripping the curve of your waist and shaking you. “I need you to believe me, honey. I'm begging you. I would never have done this if I knew the truth. I'm so sorry for hurting you, and I wish I could take it back. But I can't, all I can do is tell you the truth.”

“You didn't want to leave me?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course not.” He rested his forehead on your belly, drawing a shaky breath before looking up at you again, pleading with big, blue, watery eyes. “I-I love you. And I agreed because I was terrified to lose you completely but then I—I did anyways because I'm a fucking coward.”

You wiped a tear from his cheek with your thumb, the last of your trepidation falling away. “I love you too, Stevie,” you said, and he surged upwards, slamming his mouth to yours in a ruinous, bone-melting kiss.

He parted your lips with his tongue, possessing your mouth in a display of dominance you rarely saw from him. He licked along your teeth, groaning low in his throat as you dug your nails into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He tasted like black coffee and something sweet, like he'd hit the dessert table instead of the bar, and it made your heart flip.

God, you'd missed him.

Your lungs screamed for air, an affliction super soldiers didn't contend with, and you were forced to break the kiss to breathe.

“Cameras?” You panted, craning your head back as Steve planted wet, open-mouth kisses down your jugular.

“This is Fury's personal study. No cameras,” Steve mumbled against the peak of your shoulder, his hands all over you.

You scoffed. “Of course, because he can have priv—”

“Forget about him.” Steve captured your lips again, and you nipped at his lower lip for cutting you off. He backed you against the desk, breaking the kiss to toss you up onto it.

“Forgotten,” you replied, breathless as you looked into his eyes.

“I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet, have I?” He asked, leaning back a bit to take you in, your chest heaving against the deep plunge of your dress, lips kiss-stung and eyes bright.

You shook your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder with a smirk.

“I love this color on you,” he murmured, rubbing the hem of your dress between his thumb and index finger. And your makeup—”

“Steve.” You grabbed him by the lapel and tugged him closer, bringing his face down towards yours. A flare of arousal twinged between your legs, you loved when he let you manhandle him. “I know you're trying to be a gentleman and not fuck me without some proper flirting, but it's been months. I need you.”

Steve smiled, leaning forward to lay you back on the desk. “You don't need me, honey,” he hummed, kissing down your sternum while his hands moved your dress up your legs. He looked up at you when he settled between your thighs. “You've proven that you're a force all on your own. And that's okay, you don't have to need me, as long as you want me.”

You nibbled your lower lip, processing his words. He was right, you'd proven that you could live through heartbreak, that you didn't need him to carry on. And as much as it hurt, and as much as you missed him, there was something liberating in that knowledge.

“So, do you want me?” He asked, grazing his thumb over the gusset of your panties, maddeningly light.

“Yes, I want you,” you answered, threading your fingers through his blond hair and urging him forward.

He chuckled, smiling up at you, then pulled your panties to the side with his middle finger and flattened his tongue against your slit, licking a firm stripe up your pussy. Your head fell back onto the desk when he sucked your clit between his teeth, wasting no time in his pursuit of your pleasure.

Steve, for all his propriety and politeness, loved nothing more than feasting on your pussy. He was sloppy with it, rough and self-indulgent, as if making up for the decades he went without it. He often stayed until you were overstimulated and orgasmed-out, weakly trying to push his head from between your legs while he lapped up the mess you made for him.

“Missed you so damn much,” he mumbled against your pussy, eyes fluttering closed as he drove his tongue into your entrance.

“Missed you,” you whined, your hips bucking up into his mouth as he devoured you, lashing every one of your sweet spots with expert precision.

His hands tightened on your hips while he massaged your clit with his tongue, and even that fraction of his real strength was enough to leave a dull ache. The reminder of his true strength made your head spin, your mind empty. You may not need him, but there was something thrilling about being able let go while you were with him. Trusting that he would keep you safe and you could just be.

He licked one last stripe up your pussy before pulling back, kissing his way up your body. “Baby, I need you,” he mumbled, nosing into your neck. You could feel just how badly from the ridge beneath his trousers, his hips rocking slightly into yours. “Please, can I fuck you?” He asked, unlatching his belt with a flick of his wrist, and a shiver rolled up your spine at the desperation in his voice.

“You want to fuck me?” You repeated, toying with him. You reached between your bodies and pulled out his cock, thick and long and flushed, and pumped it once, twice, smearing precum down his shaft.

He moaned, hot and breathy against your skin. “I know I hurt you, and I still have to make up for that, but I just—fuck, I need to feel you. Please, please let me make you come on my cock.”

“Just start slow,” you cooed, petting his cheek when he lifted his head in excitement. “Been awhile since I took you.” You glided his cockhead through your folds, his breath hitching when you notched it at your drooling entrance.

Gently, he eased his hips forward, sliding in one inch, then another. "Shit, honey. Have a little mercy," he panted, his muscles bulging against the fabric of his shirt, tendons in his neck flexing.

You groaned, releasing his cock to grab hold of his shoulders, nails biting into his shirt at the stretch, bright and burning.

“Gotta relax, baby. Let me in.” He gently guided you thigh up and around his waist, squeezing the fat of your haunch in reassurance. He moved a little deeper, and you both gasped when your walls clenched around him. “So goddamn tight,” he rasped, drawing his hips back a bit, assuaging some of the discomfort before easing back inside, coaxing your muscles to loosen for him.

“Fuck, Steve,” you panted when he pushed a little deeper, your eyes rolling back in your head when he grazed your g-spot.

“Almost there, doll. You can do it,” he encouraged, reaching up to hold your face. He caught your gaze, smiling a little when your eyes struggled to stay focused, lashes fluttering. “Starting to feel good?”

You nodded, pleasure spilling through you as your body accepted him inch by inch, until finally, you felt his pelvis press against yours.

“There we go,” he purred, leaning down to kiss your forehead, your cheek, giving you a few more seconds to adjust. “Good girl, takin’ all that cock.”

He ground into you, stifling a fractured moan against your shoulder when your pussy made an obscene squelching sound, dripping wet for him. You were on another planet, tingling head to toe as waves of pleasure crested. Every beat of your heart had you clenching around him, full to splitting, and you wanted more.

“Please, baby, need more,” you whined, trying to rock your hips against his, but he was too heavy for you to do much.

He braced his hands on either side of your head, sweeping his eyes down your body as you squirmed beneath him. He chuckled, the sound low and almost malicious. “Need more?"

He drew his hips back and delivered a punishing thrust, two, three, five, until you were all but screaming, unable to do anything but lay there and take everything he gave you.

"How's that for more?" He asked, his cock brutalizing your cervix and stretching you beyond your limits, molding your pussy to the shape of his cock. Ruining you with a fervor that made your head spin.

Your peak was rapidly approaching, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust until you were half-mad with desperation, clawing at his forearms by your head and leaving pink, raised lines across his flesh.

“Gonna come for me, baby? God, I missed this little pussy—feels so good,” he grated, bringing one of his hands down to circle to your clit, firm and deliberate. Exactly what he knew you needed. “That's my good girl. C'mon, I’m right there with you—” Another thrust and he sent you both flying over the edge, sparks exploding behind your eyes as the orgasm ravaged your body, flaying you open.

You grabbed onto his arm, desperate for something to ground you as you soared, his hips still thrusting erratically as he pumped you full of his release.

Crack!

The desk suddenly tilted beneath you and Steve whisked you up into his arms, still buried inside you. You clung to him in shock as the desk collapsed to floor, sending all of Fury's belongings scattered across the carpet.

"Are you alright?" He asked, searching your face.

You nodded, easing your grip on him.

Steve adjusted you, lifting and lowering you onto his cock, and you gasped, still sensitive from the lingering orgasm, and mildly shocked by his lack of reaction to what you'd just done.

“Steve, we—”

“We did,” he hummed, kissing along your neck as he caught his breath, lazily working you over his length to wallow in the last dregs of pleasure. “And if he has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

“I think he's going to have a problem,” you snickered, and Steve smiled.

“And I'll deal with it.” He eased himself out of you and set you on your feet, straightening your panties and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You felt like you were floating in a dream, in disbelief that you had your Steve back, that he never really was gone in the first place.

“How are you going to deal with it?” You asked after righting your dress and he had tucked himself back into his trousers.

Steve pulled you back into his arms, like even that moment of separation was more than he could bear. “Depends on how much of a problem he has,” he replied, smirking. “I told you, forget about him. I'll handle it for us.”

Us. Your knees went a little weak at the word. “Yes, Captain,” you replied rising on your toes to kiss his cheek.

Thank you so much for reading!

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. My inbox is open for requests, check my pinned post for fandoms & characters!

[superheroesofbothuniverses]

I love this so much!!

Hi! I really like your HC AU. Could you do one of how Cevans characters would react to reader flinching during an argument?

Oooh I love this idea! 🥹💔 Let’s get to it!

POV: Y/N flinches in midst of an argument.

Warning - The following HC contains: angst/fluff, comfort, reader has hinted trauma.

Steve Rogers

Steve would cut himself off and stare at you. “Doll, why did you wince like that?…did I raise my voice too loud? I didn’t mean to if I did but I….you know me…I have never and wouldn’t…” Steve begins to ramble a little with his words as he processes what just happened. “Who hurt you, my love? Please, tell me…I’m worried…this had to have come from somewhere, right?” Steve asks as he’s ready to receive an explanation while pulling you in to stroke your back gently. He listens, already plotting in his head to pay ‘someone’ a visit responsible for your trauma response.

Ransom Drysdale

Ransom raises his eyebrows as he sees you flinch and he furrows, confused. “Kitten,…did you seriously think I was about to hit you just now?” Ransom would ask with his arms crossed. “…Do you think I would steep that low?” A part of him takes offense as he first assumes that’s the whole story, but the pieces pick up slowly that this could have come from a previous encounter. He sighs, realizing he’s handling this poorly. “Darling…I didn’t mean for you to react that way. I hope you’re not scared of me…are you?” He’s relieved when you shake your head, and he decides it’s best if you both take a break from arguing. He comforts you, reassuring there’s nothing to be worried about. He hopes you’ll eventually tell him and explain on your own why you flinched.

Andy Barber

Andy would shut his mouth the moment he sees you flinch, and he would stay still as he processes the moment. When he receives your look of feeling guilty, his face softens, “Oh honey…it’s okay, let’s stop arguing about this and talk about what happened, okay? Did I scare you?” He asks first, not wanting to put much pressure on you. He wants to know right away if it was him who had caused you to flinch, and he wants you to feel safe so he speaks in his most soothing tone. When he sees you’re not reacting negatively to his closeness, he pulls you in to an embrace, making you feel safe.

Jake Jensen

Jake would stiffen, wondering what just happened to make you flinch. “Are you okay? You just flinched as if I was going to…” his heart breaks in a million pieces as he puts two and two together. He carefully takes your hands to give you reassurance. “Baby, what happened? Was it me?…You know you can talk to me about anything…I’m all ears, always.” Jake would reassure as he makes you sit down on the couch with him encouraging a chat about it. This incident would bother Jake for a long time, and he would often catch himself in future mid-arguments asking if he’s not coming across as too aggressive to make sure you won’t react like that ever again.

Johnny Storm

Johnny’s sentence would die out the moment he sees you wince and ask, “What was that?”, distraught and confused. “Did you just…” he doesn’t complete his sentence as he flattens his hands and raises them. “Babe,…I’m never putting my hand on you…my parents, while they died when I was very young raised me good enough to know that’s never okay…I wouldn’t do that even if you called me names or cursed at me like Ben always does!” He makes light out of the situation to distract you and pulls you in to caress you when he sees a small smile form on your lips, already leaving you two to forget about what you were even arguing about.

Ari Levinson

Ari’s response to you flinching would be to take a step back and give space between the two of you. He’s encountered women with traumatic responses before and knows that to deescalate the trigger, he needs to show he isn’t going to do any harm, like raising his hand. He would then say to you in a soothing voice, “Sweetheart,…I apologize if I came off as heated just now…let’s put this aside and think of something else, alright?” He would then crouch down, look up at you and making himself small to further deescalate your trauma response. You would respond getting closer to him and come into his welcoming and warm embrace, as you know Ari’s safe. It’s all forgotten and Ari doesn’t see any point of bringing up the argument again. Your feeling of safety comes first.

Thank you @imyourbratzdoll for helping me out a little on this one! ♥️🥰

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

[tldrthor]

five more minutes | steve rogers

Summary: Steve marvels at his sleepy girl // established relationship fluff, fem!reader, no use of (y/n) // word count: 1k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

Steve Rogers had never been a man who slept easily. It hadn’t been that way since he was a baby, keeping his poor mother awake through all hours of the night. As he grew, sleep never came easily — too many battles, too many scars, and the weight of the world on his shoulders from the moment he learned that to exist was to fight.

These days, the losses of everyone and everything pressed on him like a boulder, something he could never outrun. No, to sleep was to confront — and Steve had done enough confronting for a lifetime.

Most of his fellow Avengers knew the sting of restless nights. They understood that sleep, with its blank slate, was a risky thing — a place where the cruelest parts of their minds could take hold. Steve’s dreams were never kind. He often dreamed of Bucky falling from the train, of his mother lying on her deathbed, or of you — you, lying in a pool of crimson blood.

He flinched as that particular memory resurfaced. The day he thought he’d lose you. His eyes flicked to your sleeping form, cocooned in the duvet like a hibernating creature. Sometimes, he wondered if this was all real or if it was just a dream — a dream he was overdue to wake from.

You were so serene, so untouched by the world’s cruelty. It struck him again, how remarkable it was that after all you’d been through, sleep was still a sanctuary for you. He felt a pang of envy. You were able to rest in ways he couldn’t. Your face was peaceful, your breath slow and steady, while his thoughts raced like an out-of-control train.

Watching you fall asleep each night was like witnessing a miracle. You had this routine, a rhythm he had come to cherish. It was small, simple things — filling your water bottle, turning off the lights, and whispering “I love you, sleep well” before you sank into the comforting embrace of the night.

You had once asked him, “Does it bother you that I sleep so much when you don’t? Do you wish I joined you in the early hours of the morning?”

Even now, that question made him smile. He remembered you, stumbling out of bed hours after him, his oversized pajamas swallowing you whole. It made his chest swell with pride — this little thing with messy hair and a habit of stealing his clothes was his. He got to be there with you, cradling you while you slept, listening to your soft snores.

He could still feel the gentle pressure of his hands on your sleepy face, rubbing the exhaustion from your barely open eyes. He’d kissed the top of your messy hair, holding you close as he whispered, “I love you as you are, my sleepy girl.”

He was the luckiest man alive, and he knew it.

But sometimes, when the sun was just starting to rise, and he had to wake you up, that luck felt like a curse. He couldn’t help it. You were so peaceful, so content in your little cocoon of warmth and softness. The moment he dared disturb that tranquility, you became a beast to tame — his beast, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, kneeling beside the bed. His fingers gently stroked your hair, watching you stir. “It’s time to wake up. We’ve got training in an hour.”

A soft, incoherent noise escaped you as you buried your face deeper into the pillow. “Five more minutes…”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Same script, same lines. “Angel,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve already had five more minutes than I should’ve given you.”

You leaned into his touch but didn’t open your eyes.

“I don’t want to go,” you groaned, wrapping yourself tighter in the duvet.

He sighed but grinned, moving to open the blinds. Sunlight poured into the room, bathing the bed in a warm, golden glow. You, of course, immediately buried your face deeper into the covers, a little mound of resistance.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, gently pulling the duvet away from your eyes. “Come on, sweet girl. You know you have to get up.”

And then — the bargain. He saw it coming a mile away, heard the seductive lull of your voice as it lured him in.

“Come back to bed,” you coaxed, your voice thick with sleep. “We can cuddle.”

Damn you.

“Can’t, baby. You know how much I’d love to,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice strong as he planted soft kisses on your forehead, your temple, your cheek. “Come on, time to get up.”

A dramatic sigh came from beneath the covers. “You’re so mean.”

Ah, the anger phase. His least favourite.

“I know, sleepy girl,” he replied in a mock-somber tone, unable to resist the playful tease. “Open those pretty eyes for me. Let me see them.”

One eye cracked open, barely a slit. Success. “There she is.”

Before he could celebrate, that eye shut again. Of course. He checked the time—training was fast approaching, and he had promised you he’d give you enough time to get ready. But what could he do? The sleepy beauty before him was winning the fight — again.

He checked his phone, his impulsive fingers moving quicker than his rational, captain brain could stop them -- a quick text to Sam and an instant response:

Can you cover training this morning?

Sure thing. I’ll put them through their paces ;)

With a satisfied smile, Steve kicked off his boots and climbed over you, slipping back under the covers. You stirred slightly, one eye cracking open to assess the disruption.

“What doing?” you mumbled groggily.

“Shh, my sleepy girl,” he whispered, fitting himself into your warm space. You immediately relaxed, a grin spreading across your face at your unexpected victory. He pressed a kiss to your neck, pulling you closer. “Just five more minutes.”

This fic came to me suddenly even though it wasn't on my radar at all! Hope you all enjoy. Reminder you can join my taglist via the google form here <3

Masterlist

[rainydayathogwarts]

Driver's seat - Steve Rogers

summary: you and steve get a little carried away in one of tony's cars wc: 1.2k+ we'll just ignore the fact that i was supposed to post this yesterday but forgot

Steve Rogers was an old soul. One who’d only been introduced to the concept of making out in front seat of a car about twenty minutes ago, but he was already converted. The roll of your hips so perfectly grinding against his while you pushed him by the chest into the driver’s seat gave Steve a total loss of control, one he could only try to maintain by taking control of the kiss. You didn’t give that to him either, teasing the supersoldier by pulling away from the kiss ever so slightly, in a way that had him lifting off the seat to chase your lips.

Steve was desperate for you, intoxicated by your taste of your lips. Every second you spent turning on the radio and finding the station you wanted felt like punishment for Steve, who could feel his cock throbbing against your cunt. He knew for a fact you could feel him suffering, but that didn’t stop the way you jumped up when a song you liked came on, putting all the pressure on Steve’s dick when you landed back on his lap. The blond whimpered, a pink tint flushing his cheeks as he hopelessly gripped your hips, trying to pull you flush on his dick.

When you finally stopped teasing him, resuming the languid movements of your rolling hips and leaning in to properly kiss Steve, he couldn’t help the moan that ripped out of his chest. You smiled against the kiss, a hand coming up to cup Steve’s jaw, encouraging him to relax and make way for your tongue in his mouth. Steve bucked his hips up into yours, muttering an apology, which was immediately swallowed into the kiss. One of Steve’s hands transported from your hip to the nape of your neck, pulling you even closer to him, and forcing the kiss deeper.

The rhythmic blues of the music acted as a template for the way to move your body against your boyfriend’s, running both your hands down his chest as the lyrics serenaded you. You separated your lips from Steve’s, mouth falling open in a pant as you tried catching your breath. Steve was quick to bring your lips back to his, tongue immediately meeting yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Between you trying to catch your breath and the supersoldier drawing your lips back together, the kiss was heating up.

Moaning quietly, you couldn’t help the way your hands scrambled to find the button of Steve’s jeans, needily attempting to undo it. Steve aided you in doing so, unzipping his trousers and giving you full access to his boxer-clad cock. You broke the kiss, looking down at the thick bulge in Steve’s boxers. You couldn’t help your bodily reaction, whimpering quietly and thrusting your hips to hump Steve’s swollen cock. Steve cried out at your movement, a hand on the back of your head driving you back into the kiss as you manoeuvred yourself out of your denim shorts, letting them hang by your ankles. “Steve.” You whined, wrapping your arms over his shoulders tightly as you ground yourself on his cock, hips relentless in their movements.

“I know baby, I know.” The man reassured, though his voice cracked half-way through his sentence, a moan breaking through. Steve’s strong grip on your hips returned, pushing you down onto him as hard as possible while he dug his feet onto the floor of the car, using it as leverage to help thrust his hips up into you. With the high-pitched moan you let out, Steve almost thought you were already cumming. But instead, you slammed your lips back onto his in a poor attempt to silence your moans.

Steve caught the opportunity to finally take control of the situation as you started humping your hips more desperately, losing some control over your movements. Steve bucked his hips up sharply, ignoring your cry of pleasure as he used the momentum to flip your positions. Without breaking the kiss, Steve reached down the side of the seat, finding the lever to push the car seat down as flat as possible. You gasped when the back of the seat fell back behind you, and Steve gently nudged your shoulders so you lay flat on it. Steve groaned softly, biting down on your bottom lip to hear your whining once more. Steve balanced himself over you with one arm, the other one grabbing your leg to tug you closer to him so he could grind his pelvis into yours.

“Spread your legs for me, darling.” He muttered into the kiss, breathing heavily as your tongue licked against his. You obeyed his plea, thighs falling further apart to make space for Steve’s large torso. The first push of his hips into yours from his new position had you immediately breaking the kiss with a gasp, back arching against the seat of the car in pleasure. “There?” Steve asked, repeating the same movement as you wordlessly hummed in agreement. “Fuck!” You cried, arms immediately latching onto Steve’s torso, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Steve continued his movements, each push of his pelvis stronger than the last, his lips finally connecting to your neck when he started grunting in pleasure once more. He didn’t want to hear his own moans, only yours. That feat was accomplished when he started sucking on the skin of your neck, causing an uncontrollable buck of your hips as you cursed, eyes shutting in satisfaction. Deciding that you needed one last push to your orgasm, Steve’s fingers dipped down the front of your underwear, causing a shudder to go through you. His fingers delved between your folds, trailing upwards to make contact with your clit. The sharp gasp that left you let him know that he found it, rubbing pressured circles down on the sensitive nub.

When you arched your back, a shiver going down your legs, Steve already knew you were cumming before you moaned “Steve! I’m gonna - fuck!” Steve pressed loving kisses on your face, continuing his movements on your clit until one of your hands was grabbing his wrist for him to stop. You panted heavily, cupping Steve’s face with one hands to pull him into a soft kiss, the other trailing down to the band of his boxers. Steve broke away from the kiss, saying “Darling, it’s oka-” But his words were interrupted by his own moan when your fingers wrapped around the leaky tip of his dick.

Both of Steve’s hands landed next to your head in order to stabilise himself, roughly clutching the fabric of the headrest as you squeezed the base of his cock. Steve was already plenty stimulated, so when you brought your second hand down to play with his sensitive tip, his hips unwillingly thrust into your hand, a spurt of cum shooting out onto your shirt as he cried out in pleasure. Steve saw white, eyes shutting as he wallowed in your words of encouragement. You continued stroking him until he rode out his orgasm, slumping against you in the car seat. Steve breathed heavily, trying to form a coherent sentence, but he gave up when he felt your fingers strewn in his hand, eyes shutting in satisfaction.

You reached past Steve’s body to crank open a window, letting the cool night air flow into the stuffy car. “Hey Steve?” You muttered, pressing a kiss on his forehead as you waited for him hum of acknowledgement. “How do we delete security footage from Tony’s car?”

[moviegurl2002]

This story doesn't get enough love. I know it's not really finished but I think it's soo good and still works well as an open ended oneshot❤️

Face in the crowd (1)

Title: Face in the crowd

Summary: Betrayal is not unknown to you…

Pairing: Detective!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Characters: Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes

Rating: Mature

A/N: Y/B/N = your brother’s name

Warnings: angst, lies, betrayal, breakup, Steve being a douche, character’s death, blood, threats

Square Filled: Detective AU for @marvelfluffbingo​​​​​​​​ (marvelfluffbingo2021)

Square Filled: You must miss the good old days huh?” for @star-spangled-bingo​​​ (SSB2021)

Word Count: 2,4 k

Marvel Fluff Bingo 2021

Star Spangled Bingo 2021

Part ½

He used to be my sun, moon, and stars. He used to be my life.

Now he’s just another name I add to the list of people letting me down.

Now he’s just another face in the crowd.

Keep reading

[navybrat817]

Prompt for your Ficlet Friday, whenever you have time!

Steve Rogers + "grabbing the other’s hand in big crowds".

Thank you. 🩷

I love this, Stella! Hope you like it.

True North

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 400

Warnings: Established relationship, slight anxiety and insecurities, fluff

Steve hadn’t expected the sidewalk to get crowded so quickly for the parade, but he should’ve anticipated it. That was one of the reasons why you insisted on getting there early. You picked out a good spot and he brought enough chairs for the gang to camp out. But instead of hanging out, he insisted on getting you a necklace from one of the vendors a block away and now he had to find his way back to you.

He tried to smile when a few heads turned his way. He still wasn’t used to standing out in the crowd. Being small and invisible for the longest time, he was able to blend in easily. No one cared enough to look for him, save Bucky. With his new body, it wasn’t so easy for him to hide now. And having spent most of his life being the smallest person in the room, he still felt like a stranger in his own skin.

Craning his head, his heart raced when he realized he wasn’t even halfway down the block. He could’ve pushed people out of the way, but he couldn’t be rude. Swallowing, he tried not to feel overwhelmed at the feel of bodies pressing against him, their conversations too loud in his ears. A few whispered his name. Some snapped his photo, like they had the right.

He wished he would’ve asked you to go with him. It was silly. You didn’t need to look out for him. You didn’t-

“Steve.”

He blinked when you grabbed his hand. He had your touch memorized, the way your hand fit perfectly in his. “Hey,” he whispered, the sound of the crowd fading away.

“Thought you got lost there for a second,” you said lightly, but your eyes conveyed that you sensed how much he needed you.

“Almost did,” he said, letting you lead him through the crowd, refusing to let you go. “But it was worth it to find you the perfect necklace.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smiled over your shoulder. “You know, you really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he smiled gently. “Thank you for finding me,” he said, his voice thick because he wasn’t just talking about today. And you knew that.

“You found me first, Steve,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Later when he put the compass necklace around your neck, he’d explain that you were his true north. And if the two of you were ever separated for any reason, even in a crowd, he’d find his way back to you. Always.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️

[lethargiccryptid]

Jack and Jill Fell Down a Hill... Cause Steve's a Dumbass

Steve Rogers & Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

The one where Steve's a dumbass, you're a clutz and poor Bucky is just trying to keep you alive 😂

“No more, Steve, this is cruel and unusual.” Y/N slumped against the tree. Steve crossed his arms and shook his head.

“We only ran two laps, Y/N, come on, it’ll be good for you.”

“How do you know what’s good for me, Rogers? Y/N glared up at him.

“Just a few more laps, come on.” Steve held out a hand to help her up. Turning, she looked up at the tree and back at Steve. He raised a brow and waived his hand around a little. Turning back towards the tree, she wrapped her arms around the trunk.

“Meet my new friend, tree.” Y/N looked up at Steve. “Tree,” She turned to look up at the tree. “Meet Steve.” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Y/N, come on,” He paused to nod at a couple jogging by. “You’re making a scene.” Steve knelt in front of her and whispered. Y/N shook her head stubbornly and patted the trunk.

“We’ve bonded, tree and I. Tree is my home now.” Steve sat back on his haunches and ran a hand over his face.

“I wonder what Bucky will have to say about that, Y/N, act your age.”

“Oh, but that wouldn’t be fun for either of us would it, Rogers?”

“What do you mean by that?"

“Well, it’d be fine if I acted my age, but if you acted your age, I’d have to come visit you in the nursing home.” Y/N smiled up at him slyly. Steve leaned forward and narrowed his eyes.

“What did you just say, L/N?”

“Oh! We're doing last names now?” Y/N’s grin widened, and releasing the tree, she turned and leaned forward placing her hands on her knees. “I said you’re an old man, Steve Rogers.” Something flashed across Steve’s eyes, and he lowered his eyes.

“That’s what I thought you were implying.” His voice dropped and he looked up at her slowly.

“Now, Steve,” Y/N stood slowly, and so did he. Steve took a step forward, and she took a step back. “It would probably be a good idea for me to start running now, wouldn’t it?” Y/N said, feeling her pulse quicken. Steve kept his eyes trained on her, and she started to fidget at the way they grew darker.

“Probably.” He nodded. With a sharp squeal, Y/N took off like a shot, Steve hot on her trail. She managed to stay several steps of him for longer than she’d have thought she could, but that streak was broken when she looked back, only to lose her footing on a steep hill. “Y/N!” Steve shouted and lunged to catch her.

“Steve, no, I,” Y/N attempted to right herself, but was thrown off balance by the full weight of a super soldier plowing into her. With a wheeze, Y/N went tumbling down the hill, dragging Steve with her. He wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to cushion the blows coming from rocks and the lumpy ground as they tumbled. “Oof!” Y/N landed on her back with Steve Rogers’ dead weight on top of her.

“Are you okay?” He looked down at her in horror. Y/N began beating the ground with her hand.

“Air!” She wheezed.

“Steve? Y/N?” Steve’s head shot up to see Bucky jogging down the hill with a concerned expression. “Get off of her, Steve!” Bucky shouted, moving to peel Steve off of Y/N. Steve scrambled to his feet and moved several steps away. “Doll?” Bucky knelt next to Y/N and touched her cheek. She was deathly pale, and her eyes were darting about wildly.

“Air!” She wheezed again. Steve winced. She sounded like a beached whale gasping for air. Bucky helped her to sit up, concern still evident on his face.

“Breathe, doll.” He commanded, kneeling in front of her and taking her face in his hands. Y/N shook her head and slapped at the ground again. “Y/N, focus on me.” Her eyes cleared a little at his sharp tone and she focused on his eyes. Bucky led her in taking several deep breaths. Suddenly Steve began to feel awkward.

“I’m…okay…” Y/N tapped Bucky’s hand gently.

“Are you sure?” Bucky furrowed his brows and tilted her face side to side, examining her. Y/N gave him a soft smile, or at least her best attempt at a soft smile. He would have found the graceless gesture adorable if he weren’t so concerned. “You scared me out of a year’s growth, Y/N.” He gave her a severe frown, turning to look up at Steve, Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What were you thinking, Steve? You almost broke my best girl.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. Before he could open his mouth, Y/N broke in.

“Buck.” She rasped, tapping the hand that had slipped from her face to her neck. His attention returned to her, and his eyes softened. “I’m a klutz.” He huffed and pulled himself to his feet. Y/N held out her hand for him to help her up, only for him to bend and lift her easily into his arms.

“You’re a little hellion.” He grumbled, pressing a kiss to her nose. “I need you to start watching where you’re going.” He punctuated his words by jostling her in his arms.

“Bucky, I’m not a child,” Y/N began, stopping when she saw the stern look on Bucky’s face. With an exasperated sigh she nodded. When he got in these protective moods, it was best to placate him. Turning to face Steve, Bucky looked him up and down and shook his head. When Steve tried to open his mouth again, Y/N caught his eye and shook her head.

Later.

Thank you for reading! Like, reblogs and comments always appreciated! 🥰

@lazyjellyfish300, 😉

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being an Avenger with botanical powers

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: i broke this request in 2 just cuz i couldn’t find a relevant way to incorporate the powers into the request for tonys bday!! hope it is okie!!!! its also short 😔

prompt: @groovy-lady: “May I please request a cute fic of sweet Mutant!fem!wife!Reader (who has botanical manipulation powers) and the Avengers celebrating Reader’s husband’s (Tony Stark) birthday?”

you were a very versatile fighter with a bit of love in you as well!

like yeah you could help the avengers keep their plants alive but you could also trap an enemy in a vine of thorns

“y/n, my flowers are wilting” -wanda

“well, that will happen when they’re removed from the ground and their roots are cut from their stems” -you

“vision picked them himself…” -wanda

you were pretty good at apprehending foes and locking people in

“do you do anything other than vines, y/n?” -clint

“sure” -you, growing a flower from the ground and handing it over

“aw, thanks” -clint

the plant puns never ended

“you’ll never be-leaf this” -tony

“LAMEEEE” -you

“oh, i’m lame? you grow flowers!” -tony

*cue you imprisoning him in a cage of vines*

“apologize” -you

“sorry for disturbing the ‘peas’” -tony

“you should kill him!” -nat, egging you on

“yeah, kill him!” -clint

“y/n, don’t kill him!” -steve

you put a tiny…thorn in his side

“wow, that’s a pun on it’s own. you poked me in the side with a thorn?” -tony

“better than your nonsense” -wanda

you had a small garden in the avengers compound

steve often pitched in, it calmed him down

“i guess i’ve got a green thumb after all” -steve

“you’re a natural!” -you, secretly taking care of his plants

honestly, you’d pondered the idea of poisonous plants/dangerous plants (like temporary paralysis stuff nothing CRAZY), you collected some samples and kept them to yourself

SHIELD used to request your expertise to create weapons, but you preferred the raw deal of vines as weapons

you’d either wear a set of vines to help you climb and fight and travel short distances, or you’d get really creative and just launch yourself up in the air and surprise attack foes with a vine shooting from the ground. really depended on the mood and mission

you needed the right conditions to grow, or you’d have to take plants with you

“do you name them?” -wanda

“yeah, this one’s nat, that’s steve, clint, tony, bruce, wanda…” -you

“you name them after us?!” -wanda

“yeah, i think it’s funny” -you

“yeah, y/n gives the pep talks, too” -nat

“leave me alone!” -you

“i think you mean leaf me alone!” -tony

it never got old for him

but in the end you were a powerhouse and a great gardener, having fresh produce was always a plus

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Y/N: Who can I trust…

Steve: Yourself.

Y/N: [scoffs]

Y/N: No.

[mcntsee]

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[that1geek06]

"English isn't my-"

Hush now my friend, and let me read the absolute beauty of a fic that you have bestowed this world and humiliated the first English speakers with

[moonxnite]

y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?