#valentinemas

[ramp-it-up]

Thanks so much for sharing@

Peach MasterList

Peach Series (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet. Will you give up your grudge for love? Will it be a disaster, or the best thing that ever happened to both of you?

Part of the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down Series.

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII 7.5 (The Matrimony)

Ties That Bind

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[mars-ipan]

Merry Valentinemas's. Eat chocolate.

i shall eat chocolate tomorrow when all of it is on sale ^w^

[thevalicemultiverse]

(Forgotten Vows) Sly: Happy Christmas Vi-*looks at the wall calendar* Valentine's Day. Happy Valentine's day, Vic!

Heh -- your significant other isn’t going to be happy with you, is he? Being that far off the calendar. . .

[candyredterezii]

Merry Valentinemas Cabinet Lady <3

thanks cabinet anon :)

[ramp-it-up]

Boss

Next part: Bossed

Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. He is also a bit of a jerk. None of that stops you from being in love with him. And he with you.

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au

A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for tolerating my lust in her inbox and giving advice. Here it is. Read, react, alladat, please. :) I am fed through your interactions, so please like, comment and reblog. I live for that shit.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Idiots in love, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap. Angst, a tinge of lonliness, no work/life balance, jerk Henry, slightly insecure, but smart reader. Jealous Henry, references to male masturbation, wild thoughts on both of your parts, references to oral sex (f receiving), whoo boy, the kiss. And the challenge.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You never meant for this to happen.

You were just practicing self care in the season of love. 

The flowers weren’t for anyone but you, a way to remind yourself that you were worth it, even if no one else thought that. 

You knew the office would be flooded with bouquets today, desks overflowing with flowers, cards, and candies. It was the one happenstance of your first whirlwind month on the job that stuck with you.

You vowed that your desk wouldn’t be empty this year, and no one would look at you with pity while asking you what you were doing that night. 

So you sent flowers to yourself. 

They were nothing dramatic, just some pretty little pink peonies and roses with a card that you’d written to yourself.

But Henry, your boss, your gruff, frustrating, inspiring, six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, dark haired, storm-eyed asshole of a boss, apparently, didn’t see it that way. 

—--

You’d worked for Henry for a little over 14 months, and there had been a tension between you since your interview when he just sat there and stared at you as if you were some alien sent from a distant world. 

Despite that, he grilled you about your personal vision, told you he admired your qualifications and you were hired. 

What ensued was a year of hard, but gratifying work with a company that valued diversity and helping the planet. Henry Cavil was the CEO of that company, and as his assistant, you weren’t just a glorified secretary. 

You were right-hand to changing the world.

Henry seemed to care for nothing but work, and was professional to the point of extreme with you, even when you two worked late and long hours side by side.

Holidays were unimportant to him, weekends were just another day, and he didn’t seem to notice that you might feel differently.

You didn’t, but it would have been nice to have been asked.

It would have been nice if he noticed you as a human, if he asked about your family, what you liked to do in your free time....Whatever that was. 

And sometimes, you looked up to see him looking at you as if he were going to ask about one of those things, but in each instance, he just looked back down to what he was working on, continuing with the discussion at hand. 

You let it slide, because being by his side was all that you wanted. Even if he just tolerated you. 

Because you were in love with him. Since the moment before he offered you the job at the end of your interview. 

You could help millions of people around the world, but you couldn’t help yourself from falling in love with Henry, a man at least ten years your senior who was emotionally unavailable.

You were a sad case.

Your boss was your secret obsession, the man who’d starred in your most delicious fantasies for far too long. 

But Henry would never take a second look at you romantically. 

You were doll-sized next to him, you’re too nerdy, too curvy, and too headstrong to be the kind of compliant arm candy that you heard he went for. You were destined to pine for your boss with the superhero looks, destined to be the sidekick in the romance of his life.

—---

Henry had been in torment for 14 months 12 days, and 7 hours, the moment you walked into his office for your interview. And he’d been in love with you for 14 months, 12 days, 6 hours and 45 minutes.

But he vowed that you should never know how he felt while sentencing himself to the daily torture of working side by side with you every day.

He tried to put you out of his head, but his favorite thing was to send you ahead of him to meetings and to fall in behind you on the long walk to the boardroom, your sumptuous ass giving him lots of spank bank material. 

Every night he went home to shower, fuck his hand, and paint the tiled wall with copious amounts of spend as he thought of the way you looked that day and your adorable little quirks: 

The faint smiles you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

How you nibbled on that fucking sexy bottom lip when you were deep in thought and gazing at him, or hunched over your laptop and typing away. 

The way that you walked, those tempting curves of yours that made him ache to throw you over his shoulder and have his way with you.

Henry had ordered you the finest oak desk that he could find during your first week on the job. The glass one in the office was fine, but would be a bit flimsy in the off chance that he should throw you over it and eat you out until his jaw was sore and until your voice grew hoarse from screaming his name.

You’d been the fire in his blood for the entire time he’d known you, and he couldn’t help himself from being irretrievably under your spell.

But instead of telling you that, for the last 14 months, he'd settled for every minute that he could wring from you for work, because there could never be anything more than that.

—---

This evening, Henry had stopped in your office doorway with menus for dinner, when he saw the flowers and crossed his arms over his huge chest.

Your eyes slid down his form, noticing how the sleeves of his crisp white button down strained around his biceps, the vest he was wearing highlighted the thick inverted triangle of his body, and his dark slacks hugged his muscular thighs. 

It should be illegal for him to look that fucking good, especially at this hour in the evening, on this night of love. You looked up at him, at his dark eyebrows drawn together over those piercing blue eyes, looking at the bouquet like it personally insulted him. 

Then he looked at you.

There was heat in his gaze, something that made your toes curl in your heels, and for a moment you were frozen. Damn, he was hot, especially when he was perturbed. 

"Who sent them?"

His deep voice was low and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to his sexy ass British accent. Goosebumps raised on your skin.

You were caught between confusion and a being flustered from direct attention from him. He usually avoided eye contact and more than a few grunts at a time, so this was new.

Henry was always intimidating, but tonight, he was also extra attractive, with his tie loosened, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark curls slightly messy as if he'd been running his hands through it.

Oh, and it didn’t help that his jaw was clenching and his blue eyes seemed to be burning.

"Excuse me?" you asked, keeping your voice as neutral as possible. 

You were tired, but there was a deadline to meet, despite the fact that this was a night for lovers. 

You two were the perfect pair to still be at work, because you were the furthest thing from romantics. You and Henry were workaholics, dedicated to your job, with no time for love.

Henry’s gaze flicked to the small card nestled between the flowers. 

You knew exactly what it said.

You are desirable. You are unforgettable. You deserve to be loved the way you love others.

A self-affirmation just for you. Something no one else was supposed to see.

But when Henry read it, he mistook the meaning.

"So who is he?"

His look was dark and his eyes were stormy, causing your stomach to drop.

"What?"

Henry’s fists clenched at his sides. 

"The person who sent these. The one who wrote you that." 

His voice dropped lower, like he was trying to hold back something. 

"Who. Is. He?"

You realized that he thought you had someone. And he sounded jealous. But that would be…

No. It was impossible. 

Your pulse became erratic with the thought

Henry was always particular: demanding, impatient, exacting. But he was also never unfair and never once let you fail. He always pushed you to be better and gave you glowing performance reviews, even when his actions conveyed that you were the most frustrating person on the planet to him.

You always assumed that he just tolerated you. That you annoyed him. But at the moment, he looked like a man barely holding himself together because he thought someone else had sent you flowers.

This was a development.

Before you could respond, Henry stepped closer to you. You tilted your head back to gaze up at him towering over you, broad and built like a damn brick wall. One that you wanted and needed to climb. 

"You didn’t answer me," he murmured, voice rough. Boy, those eyes could chill you to the bone.

"Why do you care?"

You were perturbed now, and it was clear in your response. 

Henry’s jaw ticked and something flashed in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for you to analyze.

“Careful, Little One.”

He’d never called you that, so you cocked your head with curiosity and watched as he sat on the edge of your desk, hiking his pants up on his legs, showcasing his massive thighs, and yes, the long, thick rod between them. 

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes went wide, too surprised at his words and actions to pull the well-practiced mask over your features.

Henry caught you looking, but you didn’t catch the way his mouth hooked up in a half smile at your reaction. 

You licked your lips and watched as his hand moved slowly upward, until he was brushing his fingers over the petals of one of the roses. The act felt intimate, like he was imagining something else beneath his fingertips. 

Or maybe you were the one imagining.

“You deserve to be loved the way you love others," he repeated, more softly. 

He gazed at you, eyes blazing. 

"And you think this guy, whoever he is, can give you that?"

Your throat went dry. You should’ve just told him the truth. But you didn’t.

Because you knew he was jealous. And he was about to lose it. And you wanted to see what happened when he did. 

You chucked your chin up at him, a challenge.

"And what if he can?"

Henry knew he was pathetic because you were his employee, and he had no claim to you, no right to feel possessive at the thought of you with another man. 

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to track down the mutherfucker that sent you those flowers and beat him to a bloody pulp. And that didn't stop him from wanting to grab you and kiss you until you realized that you were fucking his. 

That you’d always been his, from the moment you first looked him in the eye.

The air between you crackled with energy as his entire body tensed as he stood up again, those massive hands curling into fists like he was restraining himself from something. His jaw flexed, his breath deepened, and he reached out for you, hand on your waist, drawing you in to press you against his very solid body. 

And then Henry’s mouth was on yours, hot and demanding and so fucking perfect that you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but give in.

You grunted in surprise as his full lips pressed on yours and his delicious tongue slid inside your mouth. All of your senses came alive in a cacophony of sight, taste, smell, and sound. And of course, touch.

You let yourself melt into his kiss, reaching up and tugging at the soft curls rioting over his collar, and then he pulled back, panting. His hand came up to wipe the moisture from your lips with his thumb, which he then inserted into his mouth and kept eye contact with you as he suckled his digit.

You imagined those lips doing the same to various points on your body and you nearly swooned, especially when he pulled his thumb out with a plop and then released you. 

Henry stepped back, baring his teeth in a dangerous smile. 

Your mind was scrambled, but you knew one thing for certain: Henry was attracted to you. Just as much as you were attracted to him.

Who would have thunk?

Henry adjusted his cuffs, highlighting those distracting veins on the back of his hands. He nodded at the flowers, then at you, a dangerous smile on his lips.

"Hope he’s ready to compete," he murmured, leaving you stunned.

“Get your coat, we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

And then he walked back into his office, leaving you staring after him, heart slamming against your ribs, lips feeling swollen and bruised from the kiss.

You had no idea what those flowers just unleashed in him. 

But you were about to find out.

——-

Next part: Bossed

[ramp-it-up]

Bossed (Boss 2)

Pt. I:Boss | Pt III: Encore

Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. He is also a bit of a jerk. None of that stops you from being in love with him. And he with you. What does he do when you tell him you have a date for the lover's holiday?

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au

Word count: 3.4 K

A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for tolerating my lust in her inbox and giving advice. I also took a little bit of advice from @blackpinup22 . This second part is...kinda filthy? Sorry not sorry. Read, react, alladat, please. :) I am fed through your interactions, so please like, comment and reblog. I live for that shit.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Idiots in love, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap. Angst, white lies, Jealous Henry, veiled threats to a romantic rival, sucking his thumb in an elevator, vulgarities, sizeeee kinkkkk, sloppy, wet blowjob, masturbation, cum swallowing, praise kink, rough nipple play, sloppy oral (f receiving), fingering, raw p in v, creampie and confession time. Someone loses a job? Maybe? Possibly.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

“Get your coat, we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

You were a smart woman.

Henry’s reaction to you getting flowers was unexpected, not just for you, but for him. And he was just trying to take back control now with this offer of dinner out. 

You had something for him.

So you got your coat, and packed up your laptop, slinging the strap of the fine leather attaché across your shoulder as you walked toward his office door. It was a gift from Henry on your first day on the job, the Aspinal of London bag perched on an ergonomic chair behind a brand new oak desk when you walked in that first day.

You loved the desk, and you dragged your fingers along the rich grain of the wood as you neared him.

Henry was putting on his jacket and coat and adjusting his tie with a smirk on his face as you approached.

“I’m not going to dinner with you. I have plans,” you said with a straight face. 

Henry’s smile fell.

“Cancel them.” 

He grabbed his phone from his desk and stalked past you to the elevator. You followed, and could literally see the steam coming off his ears.

Henry was close to coming unglued. He did not plan on this today.

Did he have a claim on you?

Yes.

Were you aware of that claim?

No, but that had nothing to do with it.

“Can’t. It’s a date,” came your saucy reply.

That stopped him in his tracks. Henry turned slowly to face you as you looked up at the elevator indicator.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him. 

“What the hell do you mean?” 

You raised your eyebrow at him and then walked into the elevator, forcing him to follow you. You pressed the button and looked up again, ignoring Henry’s stare.

You had to admit you were enjoying this. 

“You expect me to not have a date tonight, Mr. Cavill?”

Henry leaned against the elevator wall and crossed his arms. He considered what day it was.

“You didn’t last year.”

You looked at him, fire in your eyes. 

“I was newly hired and when you said we were working late that day, I didn’t want to rock the boat that early.”

That was true, but you were also already smitten and wanted to spend the evening with Henry.

“But I’m done letting work take over my life. I need more, Mr. Cavill. I need a life.”

Henry huffed and then stood up straight. He was exasperated because couldn’t you see that you were his life? He thought about it.

Maybe you couldn’t see it because he never said it.

He moved closer to you, determined to make you understand. In the confined space, the proximity caused the hair on the back of your neck to rise.

“What about what happened back there in your office, Little One?”

His sexy murmur and that accent almost made you weak, but you remained strong, looking at him as if you didn’t know what he was talking about. But how could you forget?

The kiss.

You cleared your throat.

“I’m not sure what that was about.” 

Your eyes looked at the elevator wall.  

“You kissed me and then said something about a competition. Because I got flowers.”

“Because someone else sent you flowers. Out of the blue! In all the time we’ve worked together, not once have you mentioned a boyfriend or dating. So, who the hell is he?”

You gave him a side eye.

“I don’t need to tell you who I’m seeing, Mr. Cavill,” you said with a smirk.

“If you want him to have full use of his limbs, you will.” 

Your eyes widened, and you took a step back. 

“Cancel your plans. This guy, whoever he is,” he snarled, “can wait another day.” 

Henry just wanted a chance with you. All that mattered was that you spend tonight with him.

“Did you just threaten my date?”

For some insane reason, that made you hot. Your nipples were tight and aching, and your pussy was slick and pounding.

You shook your head and looked back up at the elevator indicator, willing it to go faster. This lie of yours was getting more involved, and the pit of your desire was getting harder to crawl out of.

“Are you still planning to go out with him tonight?” 

You just stared at him. 

“This is not a competition, Mr. Cavill. This is my heart.”

His expression flickered, just for a second, then his jaw tightened, and he leaned in again, voice dangerously low. 

“You think this is just about winning?”

You didn’t answer. Not right away. Because you weren’t sure you wanted to know what happened if the answer was no.

The air between you thickened, his question hanging between you. His eyes were holding you captive and you felt like you should look away, should deflect, but you couldn’t. Before you could think better of it, your breath stuttered.

Henry's eyes dropped to your lips again, the tension taut. He grabbed your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist, just enough to send a shiver through you.

His control was slipping more and more, and as much as he didn’t like that feeling, he realized that maybe he loved you more.

He took in that serious pout, those beautiful eyes, and the luscious hips he wanted to hold on to as he made love to you. A slow smirk tugged at Henry’s lips as his eyes slipped over your ass pencil skirt and he licked his lips. He wasn’t trying to cover his salacious looks at you.

You needed to know that Henry’s baser instincts were about to take over. 

He needed to show you, physically, how urgent this feeling was. 

His mind was filled with visions of the two of you fucking like rabbits. In the office. In his penthouse. On a beach. Wherever he could find a flat surface, that’s where he would take you. 

“Mr. Cavill, you can’t tell me when I can go out on dates and when I can’t. You’re my boss. Not my man.” 

Your eyes shot fire at him. And damn you, the smirk that came over his face when you did that threatened to make you burst into flames. 

“I’m going on my date tonight. I will enjoy the company of a man who’s interested in getting to know me. And then, maybe…” 

You paused, allowing the silence to fill in the worst of Henry’s fears. Another man having what was his, at least in his mind. It was tearing him apart inside. 

The elevator finally reached the ground floor and before the doors opened fully, Henry stopped them and then pressed the button for the penthouse.

You were so frustrated that you stamped your foot like a child when you looked up at him in fury as the elevator rose again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Henry smiled down at you and advanced even further. Your stomach flipped and it was tethered to your pussy.

“So you’re planning to fuck tonight?”

You gasped as you backed up to the wall. Henry followed and put his hands on the railing on either side of you, caging you in. 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Little One. Whoever he is, he’s not good enough for you. Never would have been able to handle you. Not in a million years.”

You shivered as he stared down at you.

“You don’t even know who he is?”

“Doesn’t matter. I know what I know.”

Your teeth captured your bottom lip and Henry looked at it lovingly, reaching up to pull it free, and then caress your chin.

Your mind couldn’t help thinking that Henry could handle you. You took a deep breath trying to clear your head, but his scent was surrounding you. And his warmth was beckoning. 

Then, your cunt did the talking for you.

“And who do you think could handle me?”

Henry smiled then, eyes flicking down to your lips as his hand palmed the back of your head, his fingers threading to your scalp. His thumb was still on your lips.

“I think you already know the answer to that, Little One,” Henry whispered and you whimpered, earning a small moan from him. 

“So what’s changed? Why now?” 

“Seeing those flowers made me realize that I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else. You belong with me, Little One. Only me.” 

His possessive words sent a shiver through you. Part of you wanted to argue, to assert your independence. But another part thrilled at his desire for you.

You looked up at him as the tip of your tongue ventured out and lightly brushed the skin of his digit. You watched in real time as his eyes dilated, the beautiful multicolored blue changing to black. 

“Fuck…”

Henry pressed his thumb further into your mouth and you sucked heartily, keeping eye contact as your tongue swirled around him and caused his half hard dick to stand at full mast. He pulled his thumb out with a plop and then rubbed the wetness around your lips. 

Then he leaned down and licked it off of them before slipping his tongue into your open mouth, his hand coming up to fully palm your head now.

“You say you need a life. Now tell me you want to go out with some other man, or do you need me to show you what kind of life you could have?”

That dangerous eyebrow cocked as the elevator doors chimed open.

“Show me.”

Henry bared his teeth in a sinister smile and you knew that you were about to be ruined. He took your hand and led you down the hallway to his door, and you stood there as he input the code for entry.

Once inside, your coats were thrown off and your hands were all over each other as you tried to get skin to skin. You pulled his shirt out of his pants, he was bunching up your skirt to get to you, until you both stopped and laughed at the comedy.

“Let’s slow down a bit so we can get to the good parts,” you whispered, between quick wet kisses and gropes of Henry’s hands on your body.

His cock throbbed in his pants, demanding attention as it strained against the fabric. 

“I don’t know if I can slow down my Little One. All that matters is sinking inside you and imprinting my name on your perfect pussy, which no other man will ever touch again. You belong to me; always have, always will.”

“Fuck, Henry!”

Henry took you in, flushed with desire, your pupils blown wide.

“Yes, yes. I am going to fuck you my angel.”

As Henry watched you get undressed, he rid himself of the rest of his clothes and then grabbed you, bridal style and carried you into his bedroom, setting you down in your bra and panties on the extra large king bed there. 

You leaned back on your hands and watched with wide eyes as Henry took down his boxers, your mouth hanging open at the very large cock that he was hiding inside them. You bit your bottom lip as Henry smiled at your reaction and took himself in hand, stroking slowly as his large fingers encircled his considerable girth. 

His glove size made sense now.

“I’m afraid I may not last long. Every night I stroke myself and imagine what it would feel like to be inside your tight warmth; whether you’d be a screamer or try to keep quiet, making pretty little noises in your throat; whether your nails would rake down my back. So many questions, Little One…”

You arched your back and ran your hand down your body. You could see precum bubble over Henry’s fingers when you put your hand in your panties and heard him moan. You stood and then kneeled in front of him, earning a straight out groan from your employer.

Your own private fantasies involved the show that was happening in front of you right now.

“We’ll figure out the answers together, but maybe I can help you out. Y’know, teamwork and all of that.”

You reached out and saw Henry’s shudder as you touched his warm, satiny smooth cock, trying, but failing to close your fingers around him. You moaned in your throat as you tried to jack him and his hand quickly came up to guide yours as he bent down to stick his tongue in your mouth in a filthy kiss.

“Been waiting so long for this moment. Little One. Open wide.”

He grins down at you.

“And tap my thigh if it’s too much.”

You sat back on your shins and opened up as Henry lubricated your lips with his fluid, then slapped your outstretched tongue with his heavy member. Your hand came up and weighed his balls, your spit dripping down them to the floor as he shoved his dick into your mouth.

You took as much as you could in your mouth and made eye contact for more. Henry grimaced as he slid cock past your tonsils into your throat. You carefully breathed through your nose and looked up at him.

“Those eyes, Little One. That mouth, that neck. Doing so well for me.”

You smiled around your full mouth and began to move, bobbing on him, making sure to pay special attention to his engorged head. Your combined fluids were everywhere as you jacked what you couldn’t fit in your hand and Henry’s head was alternating between hanging back between his shoulders and looking down at you, blue eyes gleaming.

“You gonna take my cum, Baby? Be a good girl for me?”

You reached forward and grabbed Henry’s ass, bobbing faster and humming around his girth.

“Holyyyyyyy fuck… Little One!”

Henry shot off and you gulped the only cum you ever wanted to swallow down your throat.

You collapsed back on the rug as Henry leaned down and easily picked you up to place you on the bed. He jerked the rest of his cum out of his still half-hard dick onto the juncture of your thighs, eyes full of delight.

“Thank you for that, love. Now I can do this properly. I’m about to make my intentions very, very clear. I thought our first time was going to be beautiful. And it is, but it will also be quite pornographic.”

Henry fingers were inside your panties, playing in the cum that soaked through to your clit, rubbing nasty circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves. You loved giving him that blow job. He looked up and down your body as he pulled your panties to the side.

“Henry…”

“So fucking beautiful. This pussy is so fucking perfect. Need to taste all of you, Little One.”

And with that, Henry leaned down and licked your nipple through the lace of your bra. When he found the ultra stiff peak there, he took it between his teeth as you writhed and moaned beneath him, then he turned to sucking you, hard, not waiting until his other hand deftly unhooked your foundation.

Your bra practically flew off as he handled your breasts roughly, spitting on them and then slurping up the saliva as he held eye contact and nibbled, licked, and sucked you to nirvana.

The moment he so much as touched your clit again, you flew apart in his hands, screaming his name.

“Yes. Yessss. Little One. Let me hear you scream my name. None other.”

You were busy trying to breathe, your back flat on the bed when you felt Henry’s hands tear your panties off, then clamp around your thighs and hold you open.

You felt his hot spit land on your clit and then his warm breath on you for a split second. You were overstimulated and so you tried to stop him from–

“He-Henry, Nouuuunnnnggggghhhhhh! Fuck that feels….”

You looked down to see Henry’s smile and his wide tongue doing unspeakable things to the seam of you. He licked a wide, wet, wonderful path from your ass to your clit and then latched on to destroy your soul.

“Good Godddddd!”

You arched up into his face and began to ride it, pulling on his curls as if they were some kind of magical reins. 

His mouth ravaged you and when he inserted two thick fingers inside you, bent and scissored them, you squirted into his waiting open mouth.

You must have blacked out for a second, because the next thing you knew, Henry was standing and wiping his face with the back of his hand. His cock seemed even larger than when you sucked it. Your cunt wanted it, but your brain was frightened.

“That sweet pussy is all mine, Little One. No one else gets near it.”

You nodded, breathless, and  agreeing to anything.

“Yes, Mr. Cavill, Sir.”

Henry grinned and eyed you.

“Such a good girl. Can’t wait to be inside you.”

He was stroking himself again, looking at your pussy as if it were gold.

“Promise to make you feel good.” 

He looked in your eyes.

“You’ve already ruined me for any other woman.”

You blinked up at him as he descended between your legs.

He swiped his long, hard, thick length between your wet, swollen folds, making you whimper with ecstasy. You wrapped your legs around him, crossing your ankles at his back. 

Henry pushed the head of his cock to your entrance and it slid in like a hot knife through butter. You moaned loudly, clenching him tightly with your inner muscles. He pushed slowly and steadily, letting you get adjusted.

You groaned and your eyes opened to see the corner of his mouth raised in a soft smile. 

“I’ve got you, Little One.” 

You nodded and took a deep breath because he was fucking huge. Henry  slid a hand between you and began rolling your clit in mind-blowing circles.

Your body relaxed and accepted him.

“That’s it, love. Give it to me,” he rasped out before plunging his tongue into your mouth. 

There was an orchestra of sensations as his tongue, his hand, his penis, worked together to fuck you and it felt like beautiful music. Your orgasm blossomed and exploded throughout your body. 

You came in long, crashing waves that shook your body from head to toe, and yet he didn’t stop. He fucked you deeply, reaching spots you didn’t know existed, making you beg and praise and yes, rake your nails down his back. 

At the end, you blacked out again, everything fading away but Henry.

—

Later, after turns in the shower and the bath, you finally had your romantic dinner in bathrobes in Henry’s breakfast nook, cartons of take out shared between you.

You look at Henry’s face, filled with a happiness you had never witnessed before and felt guilty.

“Henry. I’ve got to tell you something.”

Henry smiled at you angelically and raised an adorable eyebrow.

“You want to tell me that you never had another date. That you sent those flowers to yourself.”

Your mouth dropped open in amazement.

“How…?” 

Henry grinned.

“I knew it the moment I read the card. The look on your face was classic.”

Then you got mad.

“So you let me…you ass!”

You hopped up, ready to retrieve your clothes and leave. But Henry caught you by the hand and pulled you into his lap.

“You were willing to push me to see what I would do. So I let you. It helped you to finally admit that you wanted me.”

Henry murmured down at you and you quieted, those eyes mesmerizing you.

“And it helped me too. I was able to finally show my feelings for you, Little One. Oh, how I love you.”

You smiled and reached up for his curls and pulled him down for a kiss.

“I love you too, Henry, but you realize there’s a problem, right?”

His smile faltered slightly. 

“What problem?”

You sighed.

“Workplace relationships. HR nightmares. You’re my boss, Henry.”

“So?”

You arched your own brow at him, incredulous. 

“So? You’re the one who follows the rules to the letter.”

He leaned back to get a better look at your face.

“Are you saying you want to quit?”

You gulped, “Well…”

It was Henry’s turn to sigh. 

“If I fired you, there would be a severance package. But I don’t fire people without cause.”

Your lips twitched. 

“And what if I gave you cause?”

The smile returns, slow and dangerous. 

“Then I suppose you’d have to find a very compelling reason for me to let you go.”

You slid down to the floor, robe slipping off of your shoulders.

“I’m sure we can find something, Mr. Cavill.”

[ramp-it-up]

Encore

Read Bossed | Read Planting Seeds

Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. You and he changed your life when you both finally admitted how you felt for one another. Tonight, Henry takes you to the Opera.

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au

Word count: 2.3 K

A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for inserting her lust in my inbox and giving advice. Feed me through reblogs, comments, and likes. Also asks are fun!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Employer/employee dynamic, age gap, masturbation, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, public sex acts, raw p in v. praise kink, breeding kink, squirting, creampie.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

The knock at the door sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. 

You took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing the silk of your dress before making your way to the door. 

The second you opened it, Henry was there, standing tall and incredibly handsome in his classic black tuxedo, the crisp bowtie and neatly folded pocket square adding a touch of effortless sophistication.

His dark curls, which were artfully tousled, framed his handsome face, and his strong jaw and piercing blue eyes held an allure that was both polished and rugged. 

And those impossibly beautiful eyes swept over you with an appreciation so intense that it made your breath hitch.

A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. 

"I was prepared to be impressed," he murmured, accent lilting as he stepped inside your door as if he owned the place. 

That BDE was in full effect. And rightfully earned, you knew from delicious first hand experience.

"But this?”

Henry’s hand grazed your bare arm, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

“This is dangerous, Little One."

You tilted your head and raised your eyebrow, letting the compliment curl around you like Henry’s scent. A chord struck in your brain and you wanted to be naughty.

"And here I thought you appreciated a little danger."

Henry’s eyes traced the curve of your neck down to the cleavage that your gown elegantly displayed. He stepped forward into your space and you craned your neck so that your lips were available.

But instead of kissing you, he looked down, reached out, and fingered the high slit of your dress, his touch barely there, but potent. 

"Oh, I do. But we have an opera benefit to attend. And if I linger here much longer…" 

His voice trailed off, the promise thick in the air, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to your pulse point, earning a quiet whimper from you. Your nipples pebbled and you wanted to drop to your knees as Henry pulled back.

With a smirk, he offered his arm, leading you to the elevator. The moment the door shut you were facing off in the enclosed space and Henry’s eyes were all over you, taking you all in, but pausing several times at the tight nipples that your gown showcased. 

You were a vision, a goddess, and he felt extremely fortunate to be in your company tonight.

His cock pounded in his pants and he licked his lips, then cleared his throat. He lifted his eyes to yours and ran his fingers around the collar of his shirt, as it suddenly became too tight.

“I want very much to ask if you are wet, but I can’t know the answer to that right now.”

“Oh.”

You lifted your hand to your neck and trailed it down your dress, stopping to circle your own nipple through the silken fabric, then continued down to the slit in your dress. You reached inside and fingered your pussy, collecting the wetness there. 

Henry’s mouth dropped slightly open to gain air and his eyes dilated as you touched yourself, looking boldly in his eyes.

As you reached the bottom floor, you moved toward him and stuck your fingers in his mouth, and he wrapped those strong lips around them and sucked them hard.

Your pussy clenched down and you realized that you played yourself while you were trying to get him caught up.

Henry pulled off with a plop, and then extended that wide wet muscle of a tongue and licked your fingers again.

You wanted to cry.

“Hmmmmmm. Delicious. You’re not wearing any panties, are you, Little One?”

Henry’s eyes were lust blown, and you had to concentrate to breathe. Luckily, the elevator doors opened to give you more air.

“No, Sir.”

Henry held you in his glare of steel as his jaw clenched, then came close and placed his hand on your bare back, made possible by the low cut of your dress. He extended his hand before you.

“After you.”

Henry was the epitome of restraint.

You walked out of the lift through the lobby to the waiting car. After climbing in behind you, enclosing you in the intimate darkness of the leather-clad interior, Henry turned to you, his gaze burning.

"Do you have any idea what you are doing to me tonight? This dress, your skin, your taste? Your incredible verve. God, you make me feel so alive." 

His voice was coffee and fire, rich and dangerously low.

“I swear that I’m going to make you feel a fraction of what you do to me. And it will practically burn the place down tonight.”

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his fingers tracing the curve of your thigh. His hand slid beneath the slit, fingers teasing, exploring, daring you to keep still. His long thick finger caressed the keyhole and the slit of you, teasing, but never quite reaching where you needed him to be. 

The city lights flickered past, but all you could focus on was Henry, the way his lips hovered near your ear, his whispered promises dark and intoxicating.

“You’re so soft, wet and hot, and you’re all that I want forever, Little One.”

You reached over and felt the steel rod in his pants and he let you, but he kept you at arms length for the entirety of the drive, your soft whimpers and moans the most beautiful prelude to the evening’s events.

By the time you arrived, your pulse was unsteady, and your skin was flushed with barely restrained desire.

Henry, cool as ever, adjusted his cufflinks as if he hadn’t just unraveled you in the backseat of his car. He stepped out first, then offered his hand, his grip firm as he helped you onto the red carpet.

He led you into the grand entrance of the opera house, his dark eyes sweeping over you once more, this time with a knowing smirk. The chandeliers cast golden light over the room, illuminating the way his gaze lingered at the plunging neckline and the scandalous slit that teased just enough to make him scowl a little with disapproval now that you were around other people.

He didn't want anyone else to see you like this, beautiful with need. But then he smiled at you, wicked, dangerous.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, stepping forward, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your arm as he leaned in.

His voice was a low hum, like a perfectly played overture. 

“We should have skipped the opera altogether.”

A slow smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze. 

“And miss the performance?”

His fingers trailed lower, brushing the delicate silk of your dress. 

“The only performance I’m interested in,” he whispered, “is the one where I have you gasping my name.”

Your pulse fluttered as he offered his arm, ever the composed gentleman despite the wicked promise he just made. He led you through the entrance, his touch possessive yet controlled, a stark contrast to the hunger you can already sense beneath the surface.

You passed acquaintances, and Henry introduced you as a consultant, a new title gained when you were let go of the company and formed your own. Your office stayed the same, right beside his, but your responsibilities and pay increased greatly.

Henry was ever the professional, and charming as he spoke, but the glances he gave you were unsettling. 

You knew something was coming.

—----

When you were finally ensconced in Henry’s private box, the velvet of the balcony seat was plush beneath you, though it was nothing compared to the warm, firm pressure of Henry’s hand on your thigh. 

The lights dimmed, and the orchestra swelled, a cascade of violins trembling with anticipation. Your breath caught as Henry’s fingers traced lazy circles just above the slit of your dress, his touch featherlight.

“This aria is breathtaking,” he stated lowly, lips dangerously close to your ear as he pulled your legs apart and settled his hand between them.

“But I can’t seem to keep my attention on the stage.”

You barely registered the soprano’s soaring notes as Henry’s hand slid higher, fingers grazing the silk at the juncture of your thigh and your hip. A low, slow burn rolled through you that had nothing to do with the grand romance playing out below.

“Henry,” you whispered, half warning, half invitation.

His lips quirked in amusement, but his fingers didn't stop until he reached the very apex of you. And all the while, he feigned that he was watching the stage.

You certain sure that what he was focused on was driving you mad.

“Shh,” his breath teased the sensitive skin of your neck as his fingers did the same to your wet and aching slit.

He found out just how wet you were as his fingers glided through your slippery pussy lips. You were on the verge of begging as he rocked his knuckle back and forth, never quite penetrating you, but making you dream dreams of him deep inside you.

“I need it.”  You rushed, gaze locked on the stage as Henry looked lovingly at you.

“Need what, Little One?” Henry asked. 

“Need you to finger me.” 

Henry tsked and he pulled his hand away, turning away from you a bit. You wanted to cry and scream and beg for him to touch you again. He watched your agony for a moment then patted your thigh and rested his hand there.

You heated up all over again.

“Good girl. We wouldn’t want to cause a crescendo before the second act.”

A shiver coursed through you as the audience below sat in rapt attention, oblivious to the far more sinful performance unfolding in the shadows of Henry’s box. The forbidden thrill of it had your pulse racing, your breathing staccato.

Henry teased you for the better part of an hour, driving you as mad as Anne Boleyn. He drove you to the peak of your fulfillment, and then snatched you away from the crown jewels time and time again.

As the opera neared a crescendo, so too did Henry’s touch, his fingers stroking your wet and aching slit, and slipping your over-sensitive clit between his knuckles. He was playing you like a piano, and it made you want to sing.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear. 

“Tell me… is it the music? Or me?”

You turned your head, lips inches from his, eyes dark with need. 

“Both,” you admit. 

“Please put your fingers inside me,” you begged.

Henry smiled, dark and knowing. 

“Hmmmm. Let’s see if we can make this night end on a high note.”

The soprano held the final note that filled the grand hall. But nothing could compare to the symphony Henry played with your body. His digits slipped further, exploring you with slow, deliberate intent. 

His touch turned demanding, each movement calculated as he coaxed you higher, unraveling you right there in the box. Henry's long thick fingers crooked and pressed deeper inside you, reaching that bundle of nerves, and made your body hug around his hand.

Tiny stings of pleasure dotted across your skin with your goosebumps and Henry sighed. 

“Fuck you’re tight.”

His words made you topple over the edge into bliss, the risk of being discovered heightening every sensation. You barely suppressed a cry, fingers digging into Henry’s arm as your pleasure crested, wave after wave crashing through you.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Exquisite.”

Your breath was ragged, heart hammering against your ribs as you fought to stay composed. Henry withdrew his hand, smoothing the fabric of your dress with infuriating nonchalance. 

“We should stay for the second act,” he mused, eyes flicking to the stage as if nothing had happened. You stared at him mutely, telegraphing your need.

“Or… perhaps you’d like a more private encore? I mean, it wouldn’t do to leave a puddle of my cum on the opera house floor.”

You whimpered at the image, but you stood, legs still unsteady, and barely able to suppress the smirk tugging at your lips. 

Henry led you down the stairs and out of the opera house, and you didn’t know why you were surprised to see the car exactly where it was a little over an hour earlier. You brushed your body against his as he ushered you into the back seat.

As soon as the car started rolling, Henry’s cock was out and in his hand. Your attention was torn between his magnetic stare and the glorious organ in his fist. 

“Climb on,” he gritted, and you didn’t hesitate to move.

You hiked your skirt up and positioned your legs on either side of his thick muscular thighs, trembling as he swiped the thick, swollen mushroom head of his cock through your sopping wet cunt.

“You drive me absolutely….mad! Fucckkkk!”

Henry gasped as you slid down his dick. He leaned back as you rose and fell on his thick shaft, coating his cock with your sticky, sweet fluid. His huge hand wrapped around your throat and held you in place while he drove up inside you, thumb on his other hand collecting your wetness as he tortured your clit again.

He pulled you down for a filthy kiss, the first of the night, and then smacked your ass. When he was done ravaging your mouth, he purred in your ear.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had. The hottest, the tightest, the wettest.”

You threw your head back and Henry took the opportunity to mark you up. After breaking capillaries on your neck, he growled at you.

“Cum one more time for me. My balls are so fucking full of cum from watching you in that box tonight. Gonna fill you so full of my seed Little One.”

One hand grabbed your slicked back bun and pulled your head back, making you arch for him, a feast for his eyes. His fingers travelled down your collarbone to your breasts and free them from the least restrictive neckline ever. 

“But what if you get pregnant?”

He looked at you when you clamped down around him, eyes burning through your soul.

“Won’t it be amazing when you’re round and full of my child? I’ll be able to pull your sweet sustenance for my self. These beautiful breasts will be even more sensitive to my touch. Your curves even more bounteous and enticing.”

As his fingers and lips, tongue, and teeth teased your hard nipples, you picked up speed, your ass slapping against his thighs. You were breathless at his words, the epiphany of his sentiments such a turn on.

“Oh shit,” you moaned, cumming and holding on to him for dear life.

You wound your arms around Henry’s impressive shoulders as he pistoned into you until you released all over him and the fine leather seat, screamed his name, and shivered as his hot seed shot inside you.

“With this kind of performance and work satisfaction, you deserve more money for your services.” 

“I hate you,” you chuckled.

Henry kissed your forehead as you fought sleep against his broad chest, his heartbeat lulling you into slumber, and him still half hard inside you. 

You’d figure out how to get out of the car when you got to his place you thought distantly.

“Love you too, Little One.”

[ramp-it-up]

Planting Seeds

Read Encore

Summary: You get your fill of Henry.

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x Reader au

Word count: 1.9 K

A/N: Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to some of my fantasies. @nissaimmortal may have not so innocently fed me one line and here I am, feral. Hope you like it! Feed me through reblogs, comments, and likes. Also asks are fun!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! All mistakes my own. Employer/employee dynamic, age gap, reference to annual gyno exam, masturbation, contraceptive talk, a little bit of angst, rom-coms, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, heavy breeding kink, rough, raw p-in-v, begging kink, threat of orgasm denial, degradation and praise, did i say breeding kink? Talking you through it, creampie, cum kink, is she or isn't she?

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You were knee-deep in the finishing touches of an important project, but there was no avoiding it, you needed to go.

Henry’s brows knitted together as he looked up from his notes when you rose from the conference room table.

“Sorry, Boss. I have my annual appointment at lunch today. I’ve put this off for months, so I really have to go.” 

You patted his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 

“I put in your lunch order. Make sure you eat, Henry.”

His lips curled into a small smile as he removed his reading glasses, eyes soft. 

“Of course. You must attend to your health. And yes, Dear.”

You grinned at his endearment.

“Good thing you haven’t beaten up my box lately. Wouldn’t want Dr. Hutchins to ask what we’ve been up to.”

You winked, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to leave. His raised eyebrow and smirk followed you out the door. Henry watched you go, eyes trailing your body as you hurried to the elevator. 

You had both been drowning in work lately, too exhausted for anything beyond curling up together at the end of the day. Yet, as he sat there, a flicker of anxiety stirred inside him. You were younger. Your relationship was still new. 

Would you want a family? And if so, would you want one with him, a man old enough to be their grandfather? He shook off the thought and refocused on the task at hand.

A couple of hours later, your text lit up his screen.

Had to have my IUD out.  Two more weeks until the other method kicks in.  So we’ll have to wait a little longer or use condoms. And be very careful.

Henry swallowed hard. He hadn’t even been thinking about sex, until you told him not to. Now it was all he could think about. He’d been fucking you raw for a while now and he didn’t think he could go back and the thought of going back to barriers made something inside him rebel.

Still, he was a gentleman. He could control himself. He responded to you, quickly.

Whatever is needed. We can watch a movie tonight. You pick.

Goody! 50 First Dates.

Splendid.

A mindless rom-com would be the perfect distraction. Or so he thought.

Later, as you curled up beside him on the couch, his self-control began to unravel. You nestled against his arm, warm and soft, pressing absentmindedly into him. Your scent filled his lungs, intoxicating and familiar.

Henry tried to focus on the screen, but his mind drifted to the last time he’d had you. How your perfect pussy gushed just right for him. You were so hot and tight. He tried to stop, but he kept thinking of the smell of you, and how perfectly you fit around him, how your body trembled in his hands.

Before he knew it, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing.

You turned, eyes meeting his, and smiled. A slow, knowing smile. Leaning in, you kissed his cheek, but he was already turning toward you, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

Within moments, you were tangled together, heat surging between you as you pressed into each other. His hands roamed under your shirt, his cock aching to be inside you.

“Bloody hell. We are grown adults,” he muttered, breaking the kiss.

You were breathless, hair tousled, eyes dark with want. When your gaze dropped to the outline of his erection, he groaned.

A wicked glint flashed in your eyes as you ran a slow hand down your body, teasing.

Henry exhaled sharply, then stood, tugging his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. Your breath hitched as his thick, muscular torso came into view.

Then, without a word, he shoved down his jeans and underwear, his cock standing thick and heavy. Your mouth parted slightly, eyes locked on him.

He smirked and stepped back, sitting across the room with his thick thighs spread, fisting himself lazily.

“I want you to stay right there and touch yourself,” he said, voice low and commanding.

 “While I sit here and watch you.”

A pulse of heat shot through you.

Oh, fuck.

Your response was a quiet, breathless, “Yes.”

You stripped off your tank top and leggings, your fingers teasing over your flushed skin. One hand toyed with a hardened nipple while the other slipped between your thighs, circling and teasing your cunt.

“Let’s just say I was going to put my cock inside you right now,” Henry gave himself a slow stroke and a bubble of precum rolled down his fingers as he showed you what he was working with. 

You ached for the stretch only he could give you.

“What would you want you to do, love?”

That question short circuited your brain.

“I’d want you to fuck me from behind over the back of this couch.” 

Henry didn’t reply, but his mouth opened and he stroked faster. 

You leaned against the armrest of the couch and spread you knees wider, focusing on finger fucking yourself. You slid in a second digit to try and replicate the extra fullness of his cock,  but it was nowhere close. Henry chuckled.

“You know you need another.”

You stuffed a third finger inside yourself and he rewarded you.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

Your toes curled against the cushions and his eyes and his voice and the vision of him were edging you toward your orgasm. You closed your eyes and prepared to fall, when suddenly, strong hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly, bending you over the back of the couch.

At this point, nothing else mattered.

You needed him inside you.

Henry pressed his cock against your slick entrance, his voice a deep, guttural growl.

“I’ve been saving my cum for days now,” he murmured, nudging against you. 

“Waiting for a chance to fill you so full it’ll drip down your thighs.”

The image alone sent you spiraling.

“God, Henry. Please,” you whimpered, pressing back against him.

He chuckled darkly.

“Hmmm, Little One. I don’t know if you want it bad enough yet.”

 He teased you as his cockhead popped inside you. 

“And what if you get pregnant?”

Your body jolted at the thought.

You shifted, trying to take more of him, but his grip was firm, controlling. Each tiny movement sent sparks of pleasure rippling through you. You were reduced to begging, which he loved.

“Please, Henry,” you gasped. “I’ll do anything… just fuck me.”

A deep, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest.

“You’re desperate for this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you choked out.

“Say it, Little One.”

Your hips rocked involuntarily, seeking relief, and he grinned.

“I’m a cock-hungry slut,” you whispered, the words sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

Henry’s laughter was low and full of dark promise.

“Not yet, my little fucktoy.”

You nearly sobbed in frustration.

“You really need my cum inside you right now, don’t you?” he taunted, voice velvet and steel.

Your body trembled. You were losing control.

“Fuck… yes… please.”

“You’re doing so well,” he crooned.

“Beg for it again.”

You couldn’t even remember what you said. Your mind was a haze of pleasure and need.

“I don’t—”

He cut you off with a sharp, punishing thrust.

You gasped.

“Changed my mind. I’m not waiting anymore.”

The world blurred as pleasure engulfed you. His hands on were your hips, his body owning yours completely. You barely registered his next words.

“Oh, and Little One?”

You whimpered in response.

“Don’t even think about coming until I say you can.”

The command sent a violent shudder through you.

Time seemed to slow as his pace grew relentless, his body slamming into yours with precision, purpose. You were nothing but sensation, drowning in him, gripping the cushions as your body tightened, coiled, ready to snap…

And then, he stilled.

“You want to know what’s going to happen?”

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Henry withdrew fully. Then slammed back into you.

“Oooooh, fuck!”

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you.”

His voice was pure sin.

“You’re going to be a beautiful, pregnant mess when I’m done with you.”

Your body clenched at his words, teetering on the edge.

“Yes,” you breathed.

He growled, yanking your hair back, his control slipping.

“My beautiful little slut,” he panted, thrusting deep. “Do you want my cum?”

The spikes of pleasure were too much, your body trembling on the precipice. 

You knew you were going to come at any moment, but still, you managed to get it out. 

“Yes, please… can I come?”

Henry’s grip tightened, his thrusts never faltering. 

“I have one question first.”

Your fingers dug into the cushions.

“Please just let me comeeee!”

Henry waited, delivering two more deep, devastating strokes for your sass. You were on the verge of losing your mind.

“Are you,” he growled, punctuating each word with a thrust, “my fucktoy… that I can use… however I want? To fuck and to fill with my cum…to breed how I see fit?”

Your breath hitched as you realized that Henry really could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d beg for more. You opened your mouth to say yes, but hesitation cost you.

He yanked your hair back harder and smacked your ass hard. You yelped in pleasure/pain.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, Henry! I’m yours!” 

The words spilled from your lips, raw and desperate, and the second they left your mouth, your body shattered. Blinding pleasure overtook you, ripping through your limbs and curling your toes. Your moans melted into breathless whimpers as you bucked and shuddered through your release.

Henry didn’t stop. He drove into you, prolonging your ecstasy, dragging out every aftershock until your body was nothing but sensation. Then, with one final thrust, he stilled.

A deep, guttural roar tore from his throat as he came, his body jerking against yours. The thick, pulsing heat of his release flooded you, sending another tremor through your overstimulated body.

This was what you’d been waiting for. What you both craved. The thought of him emptying himself inside you, filling you, claiming you, almost pushed you over the edge again.

You moaned softly as he grinded against you, savoring every last drop. He stayed buried deep, thrusting lazily, fucking his cum further inside while your body milked him dry.

For a long moment, he stayed there, his weight pressing you into the cushions. You shivered beneath him, but there was something grounding about his warmth, the way he kept you close.

Finally, he pulled out, and just as he promised, your combined fluids began to trickle down your thighs. Henry watched, utterly transfixed, then bent down and effortlessly lifted you into his arms.

“Now,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “let’s get you cleaned up. So we can do that again.”

You twined an arm around his neck as he carried you into the bathroom, setting you down and ensuring that you were steady before letting you go.

As he turned on the shower, his gaze flicked to the sink, where the box for your diaphragm sat.

A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips.

“Always prepared, aren’t you, Little One?”

You flashed him a playful smile. 

“Well… I was going to put that in later. But you caught me by surprise.”

His eyebrow arches as he eases you under the steaming water. He wasn’t sure if you were telling the truth or indulging in the kink.

“That’s good,” he purred, hands sliding over your slick skin. 

“Then we can breed you again, my love.”

You shuddered with anticipation as you stood on your tiptoes to press your naked, wet body against his.

----

Let me know how you feel!

[ramp-it-up]

The Matrimony: Peach 7.5

Peach VII

Summary: Steve and Peach’s wedding!

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

Word count: 2K

A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅

This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII. Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Steve…. looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.

You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, and the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.

Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.

Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.

You and he would be one forever.

You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw. You noticed that the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours.

Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.

You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.

Then you looked up into his eyes again.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

Then, he dropped down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”

He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.

“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”

Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.

“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”

His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.

“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”

His voice was raw now.

“Because this, Peach?”

He motioned between you.

“This is you and me.”

You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.

“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.

“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”

You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.

“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”

You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.

“So will you marry me Peach?”

Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.

Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.

“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.

“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”

Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m counting on it, Peach”

He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.

“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.

He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.

—--

New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.

It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.

The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.

Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.

As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.

"Wait here. I’ll be quick."

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.

Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.

Was this really your life?

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?

The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.

He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.

“You ready?”

You smiled up at him.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.

—--

The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.

You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.

His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.

"You still with me, Peach?"

How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?

You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."

He grinned.

"That’ll never happen."

You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.

—---

Connecticut was quiet.

It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.

The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.

The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.

The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting wasn’t an option.

He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.

You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.

His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.

Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.

“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.

“Shall we begin?”

You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas.

Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.

“And do you—”

“I do,” you said just as fast, laughing when Steve let out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.

The officiant smirked.

“In that case, by the power vested in me—”

Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.

“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.

“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”

He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.

“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

This man was going back to bed.

—---

The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think?"

His grin was slow and dangerous.

"I think you’re mine now. Officially."

You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.

"Yeah?"

He kissed you deep and slow, like you had got nowhere else to be.

And maybe you didn’t.

The world could wait for a few hours.

At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.

[ramp-it-up]

https://www.tumblr.com/noellez-best-life23/775232829230546944?source=share Hi!! It was this one, I think it should work! And can't wait for the next chapter!

Oh, My. Oh, Nonnie. 🥵

Yes, that look was (excuse me, I have to wipe my mouth).

VERY Inspirational.

And it is the week of love. Why the hell not?

And thank you for the ask, Nonnie! This actually helped me with the next chapters of the story. 😉

Smut under the cut

Bespoke

Summary: You have to express your feelings about how Bucky looks in that suit.

Word count: 500 ish

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This drabble is in the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after both Worth the Fall and the Steve Rogers fic Peach VI.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Furmoasa prepared to gossip, lust, Bucky Barnes being smoking hot, spitting, implied blow job. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

You walked into Bucky's closet the early afternoon of the gala with piping hot tea that you were going to spill. You knew he was in there getting his suit together for the gala.

“Oh my God, Bucky! Peach and Steve are….”

You lost your train of thought when you saw what was happening.

Bucky was standing in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt in the sleeves of his tailored suit jacket. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and the pants fit his slim waist perfectly.

"Those two fools are fucking? It was only a matter of time..."

You’d seen him in suits before.

Many times. 

But something about this moment, the effortless way he moved, his broad shoulders in the suit coat, and the sweet wrinkles of concentration on his brow hit you like a damn freight train.

That, combined with the extra floof in his hair from his fingers raking through it and the fact that he was barefoot made you feral as fuck.

He looked so handsome and he wasn’t even trying.

You stopped in the doorway of the closet, biting your lip as you took him in.

Bucky caught the reflection of you ogling him in the mirror and a slow smirk graced his face.

“See something you like, Frumoasă?”

You looked at him in the mirror and licked your lips.

“You have no idea.”

Bucky turned around and in a moment, you were on him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the muscles there under the expensive cotton broadcloth and grazing over the exposed skin at his collar.

You craned your neck to run your lips along the whiskers that adorned his sharp jaw line and then trailed kisses down his neck, unbuttoning the rest of the fastenings on the shirt.

Bucky chuckled, running his hands down your sides and landing on your ample hips.

“Baby…”

“Shut up,” you murmured against his skin, biting down on his collarbone just enough to make him hiss.

“Jesus. It’s just a tux, Frumoasă.”

You shook your head, pushing him backward out of the closet and toward the edge of the bed. You didn't hesitate to cop a feel of his pecs.

“No. It’s you in the tux. My sexy ass man.” 

Your hands slid lower, teasing over his belt and cupping his now hard cock.

“Looking like this.”

Bucky let out a low groan, his head tilting back slightly as you sank to your knees. You were busy unbuckling his belt like a mad woman and looking up at him with those eyes.

“Fuck, Doll. The hair and makeup people will be here in…” 

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall on the floor.

“You probably want to take all this shit off, because I’m about to get real nasty.”

You leaned forward and nuzzled his sac through his boxer briefs.

Bucky’s eyes dilated as he grabbed your hair. He looked down at you and the black of his pupils was taking over the blue. He gave you a wicked grin as he kicked the pants away from him and took off the shirt and jacket, flinging them on the nearest chair.

“You are going to be the death of me.”

You grinned as you tied your hair up. Bucky took off his underwear and sat on the edge of the bed as you took him in your grip and spit on his cock. You watched it drip down his balls, then you replied.

“Then I'll suck your soul out for you.”

------

Let me know if you like it!

[ramp-it-up]

Peach VII

Peach VI | Peach 7.5 | Ties That Bind

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. Do you leave there single or a married woman?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I have all of the words and none of the confidence. Oh I hope you like it. It may not be everyone's cup of tea. This is part one of the Valentine's weekend bundle. I hope you like it. Let me know my LOVEs! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach VI. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Steve Rogers is rich, bitches!, the big one bling, the event! stripping, pole dancing, lap dancing, sloppy blow job, is this Subby!Steve? woman on top, nipple play (m receiving), size kink, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, a lil bit of cum play. Family feeeelings, Bucky being Bucky, Steve being a simp, jealous bitches, almost catching a case at a gala.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

“Is that what you want?” Steve said as his hands gripped your waist.

You couldn't look away from his eyes which were deeply searching yours.

When you moved your hand to his chest, his heart thudded through the muscle and the bone to your fingertips.

You nodded and marveled at how far you both had come in such a short amount of time.

You were sure.

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.”

Steve couldn’t believe his luck.

“How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

His beautiful deep velvet voice had you swooning in his arms. 

“Everything. It’s worth everything, Steve.”

It was unthinkable what you were feeling. But it was oh so right.

Steve’s look was so serious for a moment and then he kissed you again. He flipped you over, torso pinning yours down, abs between your legs. You whined with need as he kissed you, tenderly, his fingers tracing your face.

Then he pulled away.

“Get dressed, Peach.”

“What?

“Get dressed. Pack up. You’re checking out of the hotel.'

You looked at him and cocked your eyebrow.

“Oh. Am I?”

Steve chuckled at your sass. It was so cute. Then he pulled you close and whispered in your ear.

“Yes. You are. Remember I said that I was going to give you what you need, when you need it?”

You shivered at the way Steve handled you.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question."

“Understood.”

Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy.

And then he asked you a very grown up question.

Insert Peach 7.5 Here

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the corridor to Steve’s penthouse at the top of the Rebirth building. There were two doors on the entire hallway, both mirroring each other. 

Steve walked beside you to one of the entrances, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back, a touch both casual and possessive. 

Your mouth dropped open when the door opened on floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Manhattan skyline. 

The view went on forever.

"Jesus, Steve. This is… Beautiful!"

Your eyes shone as you turned in a circle to take in the room.

"Wait until you see the rest."

You were wandering now, your fingertips trailing over the sleek countertops, the rich leather of his couch, and the curated artwork lining the walls. Everything about the space was sophisticated, masculine, Steve.

You wondered how you could lend your touch.

Steve had gone into another room, his bedroom, you imagined, to put your things down. He came up behind you as you stared out of the window, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kissed your neck as you leaned your head back on his chest.

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.”

“More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, bringing it in front of you. 

The diamonds on your hand glittered and caught your eye as you reached to touch what was inside. It was a necklace with double diamond solitaires, one cushion cut and one pear shaped, nestled side by side on a thin, gleaming chain.

A moi et toi design.

To match your ring.

You blinked up at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. He pecked you on the lips.

“Steve…”

He reached out, and plucked the necklace from the box. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck as he draped it around you.

“Moi et toi,” he murmured near your ear. “Me and you.”

You swallowed, your fingers rising to touch the stones on your skin as you gazed out on the city. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Two stones side by side; one strengthens the other.” 

His thumb brushed over your collarbone, tracing the edge of the necklace. 

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.”

You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms.

“Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

There you were, being adorable again. The way you’d fought him up until this week made Steve stand in disbelief at how accepting you were of him. And how easily you’d run off with him to Connecticut tonight to become his wife. 

It was crazy, but it was so right.

“I do. I seem to recall meeting you in heaven, because all I remember thinking is ‘who is this angel?’”  

You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.”

Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy.

“You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

You swallowed at the octave drop in Steve’s voice and he traced your throat with his thumb as you did it. Steve gathered you to him, pressing his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered into your ear.

“Come with me, there’s something else I want to show you. " 

He grabbed your hand and led you down a hallway. 

You followed until he stopped and turned to you with a mischievous grin. Then, he opened the door behind his back and backed in so he could watch your face.

Curious, you followed him inside. 

Then you froze. 

It was a good sized space. Mirrors lined one entire wall, reflecting the soft glow of LED track lighting. You stepped out on the wood floor and realized that it was made from premium materials.

But what really caught your attention was the sleek, stainless-steel pole standing tall in the center of the room. You turned slowly, meeting Steve's expectant gaze. 

"You have a dance studio?" 

"You have a dance studio," he corrected. 

"I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. 

Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now. 

And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

The way you smiled at him made Steve’s heart flutter. He nodded and came close and tried to kiss you, but you twirled away from him to the other side of the pole. He flashed you a smile and your butterflies started up again.

“It was right after you threatened to shoot my balls off. I knew you had it bad.”

Steve sighed as if he was nostalgic for your death threats. You laughed as Steve grabbed for you again.

You scooted away from him.

“Don’t touch, Mr. Rogers,” you admonished as your finger wagged in front of those lips. 

Then you pointed, and Steve followed your hand as if mesmerized. He was the one who had it bad.

“Why don’t you sit down so I can test this thing out? Haven’t had a proper dance workout all week.”

Steve nodded and went to sit down on the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

You stepped forward, and your pulse quickened as you held Steve’s gaze. He leaned back against the back of the chaise, arms crossed over his broad chest, and his t-shirt straining across his shoulders, biceps, and chest.

His blue eyes were focused with an intensity that sent a shiver through your body.

"Music?" you prompted. 

Steve smirked and tapped his phone. A pulsating beat filled the room, the bass vibrating beneath your feet, and causing your hips to sway. You didn’t have your heels and you were in loungewear, but one of those things was to your advantage.

You grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, teasing a glimpse of your skin as you swayed to the music.

Steve’s eyes darkened and his breath visibly slowed.

You took your time, dragging the cotton up your body as you shimmied, baring the skin of your stomach, then your bra, then your collarbones as your head was hidden for half a second.

You winked when you emerged and you moved closer as you leaned over him and placed your garment on the lounge next to him.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But his jaw clenched, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

Then, you turned around, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your leggings and looked over your shoulder to find him staring at your ass and licking his lips. Steve looked up at you, his blue eyes burning now as you smirked at him and peeled the black material down to reveal your flesh, in black lace, bent fully at the waist. 

Steve’s hands twitched for want of reaching out. He exhaled sharply, restraint hanging by a thread.

You straightened up slowly, twerking and slapping your own ass, holding a cheek so that he could see the lace-clothed split of you. You shot him a saucy wink as you stepped out of your clothing, pushing it aside with the tip of your toe before slowly running your hands down your body. 

You brought your hands up to your face, sliding them down your neck to your chest, then your sides, letting your fingers skim over your ribs, down your stomach, then back up, skirting along your bra and pulling your nipples through the fabric. 

Steve made a low sound in his throat, his control cracking.

It was just as he decided to reach out to touch you that you walked toward the pole on tip toes, the only way you knew how to do it. 

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.”

Steve cocked his head, grinning now.

“Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

He was proud that you seemed pleased. You smiled back at him in response, exhaling and letting the rhythm take you.

You started with a slow walk around the pole, each step deliberate, your hips swaying just enough to raise the temperature of his blood degree by degree. 

His smile dropped and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, his restraint evident in every rigid line of his body as his eyes followed your every move

You reached up, gripping the pole above your head, then lifted yourself effortlessly, letting momentum carry you into a slow spin. The world blurred for a moment, the mirrors reflecting your every movement as you let your legs extend, toes pointed, body fluid. 

The way you moved was unhurried, deliberate, and so alluring. Steve sighed and bent his head to the side, taking you in. Then he bit his lip, remembering how you felt earlier. You felt so fucking good, your sweet, hot pussy pulsing around him.

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

The way your muscles flexed and relaxed, the roll of your hips was mesmerizingly beautiful. You were performing your art for Steve, moving for his pleasure. 

But you were in control. 

And it made Steve remember that this is what it was that made him fall for you in the first place. Damn, he wanted you, and even though you were only steps away, it was driving him crazy. 

When you reached the floor, you dropped to your knees, your thighs spread, fingers skimming down your skin as you stared at him.

Steve rubbed his hands on his pants to ease the itch of his fingers wanting to grasp you.

You stood and grabbed the pole once more, swinging around in another smooth, effortless climb. You wrapped your legs around the metal, suspended for a moment, before twisting into an elegant descent, your body brushing against the pole in a way that made Steve’s balls ache.

When you landed, you moved toward him on tiptoe again, all legs and glistening body, hips swaying, eyes locked onto his.

Steve only moved to put his hands on the back of the lounge, but other than that he was still.

In a graceful move, you straddled him carefully, knees on either side of his slim hips. You were close enough for him to feel your warmth, but were barely touching him. The heat coming from your core made him feral and his eyes were drawn downward to the source.

You felt a tremendous power, so you reached for his chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. 

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe.

He didn't know he liked that, but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

He covered a whimper by clearing his throat, causing a secret smile to grace your lips as you slowly rolled your hips and arched your back, your tits barely grazing his chest. 

Steve's eyes were everywhere, watching everything, especially your nipples, which were so hard and beautiful through the lace.

He felt like if he could just to suck them for a minute, everything in the world would be alright.

A minute each. 

Maybe an hour.

Steve's breath was hot against your skin, but he still hadn’t touched you. His grip on the chaise tightened, his control hanging by a thread.

You ran your fingers down your body before leaning backward and grazing his thighs and it was just enough to plan out the pattern of his skeet along your skin.

He was sure, with practice, that he could spell out his name.

In one fluid movement, you turned around, pressing your back to his chest, and, lightly, so lightly, too lightly, ground against his rigid cock with slow, deliberate precision.

Steve felt delirious and close to expiring.

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.”

Married!

You looked over your shoulder at him and moved your lips close to his, smiling as you saw the muscles in his corded neck tense.  You leaned in, your lips hovering near his ear.

“You're so good for me Stevie… Such a good... big... boy.”

You twerked the last three words in his lap, causing him to exhale sharply and his hands to twitch. You arched, rolling your body against his again. 

And then.

Finally, finally, you let yourself sink into his lap, pressing fully against his cock. He could feel your moist pussy lips through layers of fabric.

And that’s when Steve’s restraint snapped.

His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard, his fingers digging into your skin. You leaned back and his lips found your shoulder, his breath uneven.

You smirked and turned around, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your touch.

Steve crashed his mouth to yours, swallowing your laughter in a kiss that was deep and desperate. His hands roamed your body, tracing lace, his need evident in every touch.

“My sweet Peach. Mrs. Rogers,” he growled against your skin, voice thick with hunger.

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make his head tilt back.

“Yesss. Say Heyyyy, Mrs. Rogers…,” you teased.

One hand clasped his throat, squeezing his Adam's apple lightly as his blue eyes shone from his slitted lids. Steve's cock pulsed in his pants, then he took a ragged breath before he spoke.

“Heyyyyyy. Mrs. Rogers...”

You rolled your hips against his impressive bulge as Steve’s baritone rumbled in your ear. As you reached for the hem of his shirt, he kissed you, grabbing the collar to take it off.

You looked at Steve appreciatively as you bent and licked one erect nipple, then wrapped your lips around the tiny button, pulling it into your mouth and eliciting a small groan from him.

You took your time, enjoying his sounds which got louder and louder.

"Such a good boy making those pretty sounds for me, Stevie."

You licked, sucked and savored him as you alternated from one pec to the other.

“Wanna always be good for you, Peach...” 

Steve gritted it out as you grabbed him by the hair, pulling him into a filthy, long, deep kiss. He grabbed for you and held on as your mouth plundered his.

Then you pulled away.

“I have a question, Mr. Rogers,” you unclasped your bra, then leaned forward and stuffed your nipple into his mouth, moaning as he looked up at you with those clear blue eyes and sucked enthusiastically.

“How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?”

Steve pulled off your tight, wet nipple with a plop and chuckled. Then he got serious.

“Must be true love.”

You felt his cock pound between your legs and knew what had to happen. His fingernails scratched your thighs trying to hold on to you as you moved back to stand.

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

His erection sprung out and you licked your lips, ready to finally feel the smooth skin in your mouth.

"Touch yourself for me, Stevie."

Steve took himself in hand and started stroking from base to head, thumb swiping the drops of precum in passing. His burning gaze was on you but your eyes were glued to what was in his fist. 

“Fuck that’s hot… Wan’ taste you,” you were whining now, feeling deprived. 

“Whatever you want,” Steve whispered in a strained voice after looking into those big, beautiful eyes.  

You ran your fingers over his thick dick all the way down to the heavy, tight balls. 

“So pretty…” 

You kept eye contact as you leaned in and gave him a long, wet lick from balls to head. Your tongue rolled over the soft skin of the large mushroom cap, taking in the dewey drops leaking from it.

You licked down the hard shaft, until you reached the base and ran your tongue over his large sac.

You began sucking on his tip, tonguing underneath, and humming around his head, causing Steve to murmur, “Fffeels so fucking good, Peach.”

He was carding his fingers through your hair as he said it.

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. 

This was a fucking beautiful man.

Steve’s big hands gathered your hair and held it, just tight enough to send a zing to your clit. 

“Peachhhhh, that mouth is so fucking good.”

Steve was in love with how you sucked him off. He rolled his hips and found out just how snug your throat really was. When you pulled off, tears were rolling down your face.

He wiped your tears away with his thumb. 

"Y' look so fucking pretty like this, Peach.”

The way you took him all when you deep throated him again sent the cum crawling up his balls. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Shit.”

You pulled off and released him with a filthy plop, watching as he desperately squeezed his cock at the base, trying to stop the impending explosion.

He reached out for you with his other hand and you climbed up onto his lap as he marveled at your messy hair, your bouncing tits, and fucked out expression.

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

The tip of his cock nudged your entrance, and you reached down and grabbed it, perfecting its position as you sank down on it loving the feeling as he stretched you out again.

You both watched in fascination as your pussy engulfed him preceded by the juices from your wet pussy. Steve’s hands grabbed onto your hips, and you wanted him to bruise you, to have a mark on you from this for days. 

Your head lolled back as you glided down on your husband’s thick cock. He lifted you by your waist and alternated fucking you up and down his dick and thrusting into you, hitting angles he hadn't before.

His grunts and your moans were beautiful music.

“Please look at me, Peach.”

His tone was reverent and you couldn't help but obey. The sounds you two were making sent you right to the edge of a precipice.

“Oh… right…there… right fucking there!”

You keened as you scratched the skin on his shoulders and biceps. 

“Fucking me so good, Stevie…So righttt. N-need you to keep hitting it like that…give it to me just like that. All your cum. Inside me.”

He was hitting those bundles of nerves just right.

“You need it like that hunh? I'll give it to you until it drips out of you... Need it dripping down my gotdamn balls....”

And he proceeded to fuck up into you perfectly. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair and you leaned in for a filthy kiss.

He gripped your throat and carefully squeezed to control your airflow. Your eyes began to roll and your cunt clenched down on him. Hard.

"Ffuckk, " He had to grit his teeth to keep from cumming. "Need you to fucking cum, Peach....."

“I- I’m close Stevieeee. Ahhh. Give it. Gonna have all your babies….”

Your pussy started clenching around him.

“Holy FUCK!”

Steve picked you up and placed you on the chaise, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he drilled into you. He slid a hand between you and rubbed your clit in soul-destroying circles.

“Drain these fucking balls...shhhhhitttttt!"

You clutched him close as you felt his cock start and continue to spurt hot cum inside you. As he softened, he sat back on his heels and spread your legs to watch his cum drip out of you. He trailed two fingertips down your sensitive slit and pushed it back inside you, all the while a sly grin on his face.

He caught your eye. 

“Can’t waste a drop.”

“You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.”

He laughed. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.” 

Steve grabbed his t-shirt to clean you both up a bit. Next thing you knew, you were being carried out of the studio and through to his master bedroom 

It was daylight when you were lightly snoring in his arms and Steve was grinning wide, his wife in his arms.

—

The next afternoon, you sat in front of the vanity in Bucky’s penthouse as the hired glam team worked around you and your cousin. The stylist meticulously worked with your hair while the makeup artist added the final sweep of highlighter across her cheekbones.

The two of you had been getting ready together for years, first as teenagers sneaking into her mother’s closet, and now as women preparing for an extravagant event in a high-rise overlooking Manhattan. But this afternoon was different.

Her eyes met yours in the mirror. You had just her the rundown of the day before, complete with the news that you and Steve were married. She’d been quiet for a while, but now it seemed she was ready to talk again.

“You’re really happy, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice soft but certain.

You blinked, then exhaled.

“Yes I am.”

“You and Steve are perfect for each other. "

She leaned over and grabbed your hand, grinning at you.

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.”

You grinned back.

“I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.”

You sighed. Your one regret.

“I know. But it was perfect. Just the two of us. We’ll have a party later on, though. And tonight, we’ll celebrate.”

You turned thoughtful.

“The way Steve loves me should terrify me. But it doesn’t.”

She studied you for a moment. 

“Because?”

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Your cousin smiled, tilting her head as the hairstylist and makeup artist switched and her hair was being fussed over. 

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..”

She laughed and you shook your head.

“Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

You took a sip of the mimosa that Bucky had brought in earlier. You thought what was about to happen for your cousin.

“Real talk. Bucky adores you, Cousin. And I know you. And I’m getting to know Bucky. This engagement and wedding are going to be events. Events, I say. You wouldn’t have it any other way. .You’re about to get some bling to match that jewelry you got on tonight in Vermont next week.” 

You two laughed together, the mood lighter now. 

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, cousin.”

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

As you finished up, the sound of deep voices and approaching footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door opened, and Bucky stepped in first, his navy tuxedo perfectly tailored, his gaze immediately softening when he saw your cousin. 

“Damn Frumoasă,” he murmured, taking her in with slow appreciation. 

“You’re making it real hard for me to let you out of this apartment tonight.”

She shot him a look.

“Smooth, Barnes,” she smirked at him. “Nice suit.”

“What? This old thing?”

Bucky smirked back as he took her hand and led her out of the room.

You rolled your eyes at them because you had the feeling they were being freaky, you just couldn’t prove it.

Steve walked in, ensconced in an impressively tailored dark tux, his presence commanding as always, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something in him shifted. 

You were wearing a short gold sequined gown that showcased your legs, and you felt like a princess. 

Like a wife.

His usual air of control wavered for a fraction of a second, his gaze dragging over you like he was memorizing every inch.

You arched that adorable brow at him, tilting your head. 

“No comment?”

Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. 

“You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky chuckled, clapping Steve on the shoulder. 

“Think you broke him, Peach. Congratulations, Mrs. Rogers.”

You grinned, gave Bucky a hug and reached for your clutch. 

Steve reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he murmured, “Hold on.”

You frowned slightly, watching as Bucky guided your cousin toward the door, leaving just the two of you in the room. Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out another small black velvet box.

Your breath caught, your heart skipping for just a second.

He popped the top, revealing a pair of dazzling double diamond drop earrings, the perfect complement to the moi et toi necklace resting against your collarbone and the ring on your finger. All you could do was look at them and then blink up at him.

“Steve…”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. 

“Thought you should match.”

You shook your head and laughed.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Steve lifted an earring, stepping close to help fasten it in place and his touch lingered.

“You say that now,” he murmured and then moved to the other side, his lips just a breath away from your skin.

“But you love it.”

You turned into his arms and looked into his eyes.

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.”

His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. 

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky cleared his throat from the doorway, breaking the moment. He was leaning against the frame, smirking. 

“Hate to interrupt, but Nico’s waiting. Unless you two want to skip the gala entirely.”

You rolled your eyes at the dark headed man and flipped him off.

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama."

"Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Steve exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he kissed your neck, producing a shiver. Then, lacing his fingers with yours, he led you toward the door.

—

The way the night was going seemed like a dream, arriving on Steve’s arm and watching the reactions. Some were surprised, but most just commented that you were such a handsome couple and gave congratulations.

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Steve hadn’t given her, or anyone else that matter, a second glance.

When the music started, Steve danced with you to all the tempos, even the Salsa when that genre was played. You had a time, and then you two went to the bar to get refreshments.

Sharon chose that moment to show her ass. You barely had a sip of your amaretto sour before she started on her bullshit.

“Steve,” she purred, looking up at him under her lashes and placing her hand on his forearm. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown.

“It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

Sharon ignored Steve’s tone and turned to you. 

“And you must be the entertainment. Nice dress. Is it easy to take off?”

The words sounded sweet as honey, but you heard the venom underneath. 

“I guess congratulations are in order? I hear you two ran off and got married. I guess that's a choice. It’s probably refreshing, going from someone like Peggy to someone like…Peaches..”

“It’s Peach,” you replied. 

The bitch was silent.

Sharon’s gaze flicked to your ring, then your jewelry, then down the length of your gown. 

“Although you do wear luxury well. Tell me, how does it feel knowing it’s all borrowed? That he’s probably going to dump you tomorrow. Get an annulment and leave your ass in the gutter strip club where he found you.”

You could feel the heat of Steve’s fury at your side, his body tensing like he was about to snap.

Your mouth opened to reply, but your cousin stepped up, anger rolling off of her body.

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

She lowered her voice.

“And like a cable, we jump hoes.”

The air around you shifted, and a few party-goers slowed their conversations to listen.

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that in a negative way.” Sharon simpered. “It’s just the truth.”

Sharon looked between you and Steve.

“You are nothing but negative. You don’t have to worry about my marriage. Or your endowment anymore, Sharon.”

Steve spoke to her, his eyes blazing blue.

You smiled at your man, then took a slow step forward, closing the space between you, lowering your voice just enough that only Sharon, and Steve, could hear.

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” 

Your voice was strong and steady.

“I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?” 

You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly.

“You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.”

You leaned in even closer.

“The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” 

You smiled at her sweetly.

“And he follows.”

The moment the words left your lips, Steve did exactly that. 

As he left her in her feelings,  Steve tossed a comment over his shoulder.

“You just got your ass handed to you in front of half the room,” he mused. 

“I’d cut my losses and walk away.”

One of the staffers turned up at that moment. 

“This way, Ms. Carter. I’ll be escorting you out.”

The four of you watched as she turned red and huffed and puffed on her way out of the door. After everyone around you went back to minding their own business, your cousin hugged you hard.

“I love you. That was perfection.”

You hugged her back. 

“Thank you, Boo.”

You released her as Bucky handed her earrings back and Steve looked at you with admiration in his eyes. 

“You handled that well.”

You smirked. “I know.”

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.”

Your cousin groaned dramatically.

 “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Bucky grabbed a bottle of Moet from the table display.

“A toast. To Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers!”

Your husband looked at you with a smile. You don’t know what was coming your way as Steve's wife, but you knew it wouldn’t be boring.

[ramp-it-up]

Girl you are on a roll this weekkkkkk

Heyyyy! 👋🏽

Welp, we had a couple of snow days last week, President’s Day Monday and two snow days yesterday and today.

Dis me:

This mood probably won’t last forever so I’m taking advantage. It was convenient for Valentines week.

Tough week next week so I will either shut down or go even harder.

Peach VII (Steve Rogers x reader)

Answer Loves Call (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Boss (Henry Cavill x reader)

Peach 7.5 (Steve Rogers x reader)

[ramp-it-up]

I’m loving the Peach fics but I’m missing Bucky and his girl.

I’m not asking for an update but…👀

Hey Nonnie! 👋🏽

I am missing Bucky and Frumoasă toooo!

They are so fetch. We will be seeing them very, very soon.

‘Tis the time for Valentinemas after all. 😏

And who knows, we might get an extra sweet for the holiday.

[ramp-it-up]

Appreciate you! :)

Fade to Love

Summary: You and Bucky go way back. Way back to when you acted together 20 years ago. You had a crush on him then, but you were too young. Tragedy and artistic passion made you best friends. Will your history make you lovers?

Word count: 4.3 K

Pairing: Actor!Director!Producer! Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: I've been dreaming about this ever since I got my #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Best Friends to Lovers. As always, I crave feedback, so please let me know how you feel in asks, comments, reblogs and likes. TIA! ❤️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Best friends to lovers. All of the reckless behaviors that come with growing up in Hollywood, teenage crush, small age gap, young love, tragic loss, idiots in love, cigarette smoking, mutual pining. Then comes the smut. :)

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

This was deja vu all over again.

The paparazzi swarmed the studio as you and Bucky arrived for your meeting at the studio. After all, you'd spent your teen years under the camera’s glare, a co-star in an ensemble drama series, Idol’s Ridge, that captured the hearts of millions 20 years before. 

During those five years portraying Sophie Randall, you’d met the people who’d become your best and enduring friends. Sam Wilson, who played your older brother, Peter Randall, Carol Danvers, who played your best friend, Morgan Blair, and James “Bucky” Barnes who played Sam’s Best friend and Morgan’s older brother, Jack Blair. 

There were several other actors from the show with whom you’d remained cordial and friendly, but this was your core group. 

But today? Today was different. Today, you were meeting in a creative capacity, not just as an actress. You were going to control the narrative. 

The past twenty years had been a whirlwind. A marriage, scandal, and a career that had taken unexpected turns. You'd left the acting world long ago, but here you were again, standing next to Bucky Barnes, one of your best friends. Someone who’d been through it all with you.

Bucky, with his model handsome looks, dark hair and true blue eyes, was more than just a pretty face. His career had been varied, lucrative, and meaningful.

He was now reaching phenomenal heights. And he was the one the tabloids still associated you with, before, during, and after your marriage, even after all these years. 

The shipping of the characters was inappropriate at the beginning, but toward the end of the run when you were an adult, Idol’s Ridge fans were calling for Jack to notice Sophie, and wanted you and Bucky together, even though you never dated.

It was others pushing that narrative, always trying to create drama where there was none, not you two. 

You and Bucky were just friends.

But if you were being honest, that “what if” had been curling around your mind since you were a kid with a crush on a co-star who was too old for you. 20 to your 15 when you first started the show, Bucky didn’t spare you a second glance in a romantic capacity, but he took you under his wing and protected you, calling you his “Little Star.” 

He decided that nothing was going to ruin your innocence, lecturing you all the time about the pitfalls of fame at a young age, even as he was reveling in those pits. If he knew you wanted him to ruin you, he didn’t let on.

Bucky’s decency did nothing to sway your heart away from him. In fact, it only made him more appealing. You always had a soft spot for Bucky Barnes.

If Bucky noticed you growing up and becoming a woman, he didn’t let you know. You were always his little sidekick, not quite a sister, but definitely not a romantic interest.

Perhaps it was because his best friend, another rising star in tv and film, did. 

Steve met you briefly when he was filming in LA and hanging with Bucky. They were roommates in New York and best friends, having known each other as child actors from Brooklyn.

After he met you when he was 24 and you were 19, Steve talked about you all the time to his best friend and begged Bucky to give you his number. 

Bucky refused, citing the fact that you were not ready for the likes of Steve Rogers, the golden boy heartthrob actor who partied harder than he did. Yes, that was the reason.

On the night of your 21st birthday after Idol’s Ridge was over, you had a get together in Manhattan, because you were filming a movie in New York City. You invited Bucky who was now based out of Brooklyn, and Steve was not going to miss this opportunity to get next to you.

That night, 25 year old Steve Rogers bought you a drink, and the next morning, Bucky heard you two in the room next door, cursing his, and Steve’s, timing. The rest was tabloid history: the whirlwind romance, the young, impetuous marriage, the substances, the breakout films, the nominations, the miscarriage, the rumors, the tragedy. 

You were a widow at the age of 26, the caretaker of the legacy of one of the most talented young actors of your generation. Gone too soon.

Bucky was there for you, and you for him, feeling the loss as no one else could. When you were ready to get on with life, you and Bucky created Valkyrie Production Company as a tribute to Steve.

While you slowed your acting career way down before 30 years old, only taking on about one indie film project a year, Bucky’s career had taken off. 

He’d transitioned from actor to actor/director, and of course, actor/director/producer. You watched him get engaged to Natasha Romanov, one of the older Idol’s Ridge alums, break up, and then date a string of actresses and models, but nothing ever stuck.

You didn’t understand. He could be a bit intense, but Bucky was such a good guy. He deserved happiness. Now, he was a 40 year old single successful actor slash slash with no family to speak of but you.

“Ready to roll?” 

Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, taking a step back into the moment. You smoothed your pencil skirt down your hips, which were wider now than they were 20 years earlier. You wondered what production would think of you at 35, no surgical augmentation, just naturally you in a sea of plastic.

Bucky was the same way, his dark hair and beard peppered with gray and crows feet framing his striking eyes. But on him they were ‘sexy.’

Women were held to a different standard.

You missed Bucky appreciating your curves and your looks as you bit your lip and looked up at him with those big eyes.

Bucky’s heart clenched when you smiled at him. So fucking beautiful.

“Yeah. Let’s make magic, ” you murmured.

Bucky was a goner. 

He loved your voice since you developed the lower register of your tone. It was one thing that the critics and fans raved over in anything you did.

He chuckled at how you’d trashed his trailer when he’d tried to hide your cigarettes from you that one time. It was all for naught, since you quit 18 months after you started. 

He didn’t know that you’d just done it to hang out with him outside the soundstage door, stealing time. But it had permanently changed your voice into something that cemented your icon status in the present day, despite your limited career.

Bucky grinned that boyish grin, the same one he’d flashed a thousand times when you were on set together all those years ago. It made your heart do that little flip it always did, despite everything.

You had a meeting with the studio execs to discuss the next project, a reboot of the very series you'd starred in all those years ago, Idol’s Ridge.

It was too perfect, too full of nostalgia. But it also felt strange.

You glanced over at Bucky as he started talking to the execs. He was charismatic, confident, everything he had always been. But there was something in the way he kept glancing at you. His eyes were more intense, more aware of your every movement. 

It was unsettling, especially the premise he pitched. 

You finished up with the execs and stepped outside the back entrance for a quick break and Bucky lit up a cigarette, something you hadn’t seen him do in years. 

“You’re quiet today,” he said, leaning against the wall. You inwardly railed at him smoking again, but he was grown. You watched the smoke curl around him through narrowed eyes. Then you grabbed the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.

“Don’t do that, Star…”

You raised an eyebrow at him and then inhaled, Bucky watching you closely. Too closely, you might have thought if you noticed the way he watched your mouth after you removed the cigarette.

Bucky put the cancer stick in his own mouth and closed his eyes as he took his own drag, tongue chasing the filter as he removed it to exhale. He peered at you through the smoke, licked his lips and then dropped the half smoked bone on the ground, extinguishing it with the sole of his brown Ferragamo.

“We quit.”

You laughed and leaned on the stucco wall with your hand, staring up at him while he smiled down at you. This was your thing, this unspoken language that was understood but not explicit.

You worked together, but it was always more than that. 

You were waiting for him to speak, but Bucky could always wait you out.

“James.”

You punched him on the arm. Hard. 

“Ow!”

He laughed and rubbed his arm as he looked down at his shoes, smiling.

“You can do it, Star. I believe in you.”

You rolled your eyes at the old nickname. He always told you that you were the brightest little star on the set. 

“But Bucky…”

You thought you lost it when Steve disappeared. But you couldn’t lose that feeling, so you took small roles, just to have permission to be someone else for a time.

Your films were critically acclaimed, but your confidence was shot.

“You can do it.”

You appraised Bucky. Something had shifted. Maybe it was the project, or maybe it was something more. Bucky looked right back at you, his expression softening. 

“Are you in or are you out, Star?”

“I’m in,” you said, your voice steady and sure.

He tilted his head, studying you. 

“Good. Because I need you.”

“You’ve always needed me,” you said, half-joking, half serious.

Bucky chuckled. 

“Yeah, well, this time it’s different.”

You could feel your heart pounding. He was looking at you like he’d never looked at you before. Like he was really seeing you. But you were reading too much into things again.

You took a deep breath.

“You know, I’ve always trusted you, right? With everything. You’re the only person I’ve never felt like I had to pretend with.”

You took his hand and Bucky looked down at you tangling your fingers with his. 

He should tell you. 

“I know, Buck. You’re my best friend.”

There it was. The friend zone. Bucky sighed, but held on to your hand.

“Although we didn’t talk about that one plot point.”

You released his hand and crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up in your sweater. Not that Bucky noticed that sort of thing.

Bucky looked at you, one eye closed, squinting from the LA sunlight. Or was it because you were so gorgeous? 

To you, his glance felt loaded, like there was something you couldn’t ignore anymore. But of course you tried.

“Which one?”

You smiled at his evasion.

“You know. The one where our characters are married now?”

Bucky smirked.

“We discussed this being centered around the children of the cast from 20 years ago.”

You huffed, frustrated.

“Yes, Bucky, but our characters were never a thing.”

He stood up and walked two steps toward you, into your space.

“Not true. Sophie always had a crush on Jack, but he blew you off. It’s 20 years later, he’s grown up and finally appreciates the beautiful woman who was always right there in front of him.”

You looked up into his clear blue gaze and had a scorching comeback for him.

“Oh.”

He reached for your face, palm resting on your cheek, thumb brushing at the side of your nose.

“Hold up…” 

Bucky moved even closer and brought his face close to yours, warm menthol breath hovering over your own. He pulled his hand back and looked at it, showing it to you briefly. You didn’t see anything.

“Eyelash.”

He opened the door and held it for you as you tried to get your soul back into your body.

“Break time is over.”

—--

The next hours were a blur.

The production meeting went long as you brainstormed for the reboot, and you and Bucky worked seamlessly together, bouncing ideas off each other and firing on all cylinders. The dynamic was amazing and reignited your old crush.

You went to Bucky’s LA home after the meeting, excited at the preliminary greenlight for the project. You both decided to work on an outline that weekend to deliver to the studio Monday morning.

You’d gone home to pack a bag and get your essentials, as Bucky said you could bunk in one of his guest rooms. 

It would be like a sleepover with one of your girlfriends, sweet, innocent and fun.

But after eating takeout tacos from Leo’s, you got to work in Bucky’s home office, and the vibe was thriving, but different. Every time your hands brushed as you passed papers or exchanged a glance, it was electric.

The air arced between you, but you couldn't tell if it was just you, or if Bucky felt it too. 

As you sat looking at the whiteboard with the preliminary outline of the pilot episode, Bucky leaned back in his chair and regarded it, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“This shit is fucking brilliant. It’s going to be better than the original.” 

You looked at him, excitement coursing through you. You smiled at him and got up to walk behind his chair to lean on it and admire your ideas, as if you could see better what he meant from his perspective.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening.” 

You leaned down and whispered in his ear, afraid to voice it too loud. Bucky swiveled around in his chair to look at you. You were still in your outfit from this morning, too excited when you pack to change into something more comfortable. You looked gorgeous. 

He stood up and grabbed your hands in his.

“Better believe it, Star, we’re going to do this thing big.”

You squeezed his hands back and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. Bucky’s hands were on your arms now and he was drawing you closer.

“Couldn’t do this without you, Star. I love… working with you.”

Your stomach flipped as he murmured at you. You inhaled the spice of his cologne and savored his touch while listening to his voice.

But your stomach dropped when you heard the ‘L’ word and you didn’t know what happened; just like Sophie and Jack all those years ago, you didn’t know what came over you when you pressed your lips to Bucky’s.

You had every intention of ending the contact before it began, but Bucky’s hands were now in your hair and tugged you close. He turned and lifted you onto his desk, stepping between your thighs, pressing them wide enough so that your skirt fought the movement.

It only made everything hotter. 

Bucky used his hold on your hair to tilt your head so he could kiss down your neck. You arched your back, needing his mouth all over you, needing him to rip you out of the clothes that had the nerve to create a barrier between you. 

For some unknown reason to your cunt, words emerged from your lips,

“We shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

He pushed your cardigan off your shoulders and nudged your tank top lower so that he could mouth at your cleavage. Your panties flooded with wetness. 

“We’re both grown, Star.” 

The acknowledgement in Bucky’s rumbling voice sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. He skated his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until you had to lift your hips to allow it to bunch around your waist. He fingered along the edges of your panties. 

He looked down.

“Black lace. Fuck.” 

He cursed low enough that you had to strain to hear him. He licked his lips, his saliva making them look so delicious. 

“Can I touch you, Starlight?”

You shivered at the nickname and nodded, breath caught in your throat.

“Need your words, Baby. Need that beautiful voice.”

“Yes, Bucky. Please touch me…”

Bucky’s fingertips traced your clit through the fabric. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you.” 

“Me too,” you whispered, and he met your gaze, which threatened to stop his heart. 

His blue eyes were fire, bright enough to make your whole world glow. If you let him, he’d sweep you away and ensure you enjoyed every second. You wanted it. To be swept away by him. 

Bucky started the torturous slide of his thumb over your clit. You threw your head back and whined, caught up in a nirvana you’d only dreamt about.

“Bucky! Dont…”

He stopped what he was doing, stilling his hand over your cunt.

“Don’t?” 

His voice was broken, and pleading. You used your free hand to cover his where he cupped your pussy. 

“...Don’t stop Bucky….” 

Still he didn’t move, searching your face for answers you didn’t have. You drew in a shuddering breath. Bucky’s slow smile sent your stomach into a dizzying flip. 

“Naughty girl. You want to use me for your pleasure. Your own personal sex toy.” 

You dragged your gaze over him, from his dark hair, to those wicked blue eyes, to his sinful mouth, down to the pants clearly sporting a huge hard-on. You grew bold in the knowledge that he’d started this. 

Bucky Barnes wanted you, too.

“I have a sex toy. In fact, I have several. None of them look a thing like you.” 

His laughter rolled through you. 

“I guess I have work to do. Need to retire some sex toys. Check.” 

“You’ll have to work real hard. I’m kind of attached to them, especially Arthur. Haven’t had real cock in 2 years.”

Bucky arched his eyebrow and hooked his fingers through your panties and dragged them down your legs, stepping back so you could kick them off. 

“I’m disturbed that you named your vibrator.”

“Dildo,” you corrected.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“But I’m up for the challenge of making you scream my name…”

Bucky went to his knees between your spread thighs, looking at your pussy so intensely you could feel it like his touch. 

“And I won’t tell you that I’ve jacked myself to the thought of you countless times over the years.” 

“Bucky…”

He pressed a painfully gentle kiss to each thigh and then his breath ghosted over your clit. 

“I sure as hell won’t tell you that when I fucked my hand, and imagined being inside you, that I came so fucking hard, Star, just from thinking about being buried in you to the hilt.”

You tried to focus past the pleasure of his mouth, his big hands holding your thighs wide as he devoured you. But his words had you floating.

“I… You fantasized about me?” 

Bucky licked up your slit and then kissed it, looking up in your eyes before he answered you.

“Hmmm. Yes. I did.” 

He sucked on your clit hard enough to make your back bow. 

“Eating you out...” 

Another long lick and a smile that he was accomplishing that very thing. 

“You on your knees for me...” 

The image in your mind of looking up at Bucky made you clench down and Bucky smiled at your pitiful pussy.

“...Bending you over something, like this desk, and fucking you hard…”

You whimpered, your pleasure building as much from the fantasy as from Bucky’s mouth. 

“... Maybe taking that ass…”

He rolled his tongue over your clit, working you in just the way you needed. 

“....cuming inside you, or all over your back. I’ll let you choose.”

“Oh! Bucky!”

You were practically screaming as you tried to slow your pleasure, to make it last, but Bucky drove you to the brink and you couldn’t resist him. You came with a cry that filled the room around you.

Bucky didn’t give you a chance to recover, though. He stood and stepped back between your thighs to take your mouth. You tasted yourself on his tongue and it made your toes curl. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he lifted you off the desk easily and walked you down the hallway, still kissing you, never missing a step. 

“You’ve done this before,” you murmured. 

“Not like this. Never this.” 

He kept you pinned to him with one arm around the small of your back and used his other hand to pull your tank top off. You ran your hands down his muscled chest. He really was too beautiful. It almost hurt to look at him and touching him only magnified the sensation. 

He spun and pinned you between his body and the wall next to the door, thrusting against you. The seam of his pants pressed against your clit and you cried out. 

“More.” 

Bucky dragged his mouth up your neck and set his teeth against your earlobe and that set you on fire.

“You’re so needy, Star. I get it, I really do. Been wanting to show you how I feel for 14 years…” 

You gasped and Bucky’s teeth scraped against your lip, making your nipples tighten in response. He let you down and stepped back, running his hand through his hair.

“Strip.”

There wasn’t much left to take off, but you obeyed and his grin made your heart stutter. 

“On the bed.” 

You crawled on the mattress and reclined among the pillows. You were rewarded by Bucky stripping out of shirt, and his pants and underwear in one go, shoving the material down his strong thighs and kicking free of them, leaving him naked. 

The sight of his large cock straining against his stomach had you biting your bottom lip.

You knew what came next.

You craved it. And you forgot all about Arthur. You reached for him. 

“Don’t make me wait any more, Bucky.” 

He pulled a string of condoms from the nightstand and tossed them on the bed next to you. You counted six and raised your eyebrows. Bucky gave you an unrepentant grin.

“One condition.” 

“Damn it, Bucky.” 

Of course there were conditions. 

“Stay in my bed tonight. Another fantasy of mine.” 

You melted. Why not? It was finally time to have what you wanted. And you wanted Bucky.

You met those intoxicating blue eyes and nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“Thank fuck.” 

He was on you in seconds, shoving your legs wide and he ground the base of his cock against your clit. He tangled his fingers in your hair and took your mouth like you were the sweetest fruit and he’d never get enough. 

You reached blindly over and grabbed a condom. You tore the wrapper with your teeth and you rolled it over his cock. He allowed it, shifting back to give you the room to work.

Your body cried for him; you needed him inside you and you needed it at that moment. You lay back and  guided him into you and he thrust in slowly, inch by inch, until he had sheathed himself completely. 

Oh god. The stretch. Bucky broke free of your mouth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breath mingling between you. 

Each of your exhales came out as, “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” 

He gentled his touch, stroking your hair as if you were a wild animal he was taming. 

“Stay with me, Starlight. I’ve got you.” 

As if this was something that was forced upon you, rather than what you grabbed with greedy hands because you wanted it so badly. 

You smiled, blissful. Fucked out, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s cock pouding inside you. You needed more.

“Please move, friend. Fuck me, Bucky.” 

You hitched your leg around his hip so you could take him deeper and leaned up until your lips brushed his ear.

“I need it hard.” 

Bucky squeezed his eyes together and bit his lip as the pounding of his cock increased. You both thought he would cum right then.

“‘M not your fucking friend…”

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up even as he impaled you again. 

“You want me to fuck you hard?” 

“Yes!” you moaned. 

“Knees wider, Starlight. Let’s go.”

Bucky slapped your ass and then grabbed a handful of your thick hair, tugging at just the right amount of pain to go with the pleasure.

The first stroke was slow.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me like a fucking vice. Almost had me cumming a few minutes ago.”

You could tell that Bucky’s teeth were gritted when he spoke. He had to brace against the urge to rut into you like a wild animal, but his pace and intensity increased. 

For long, mind-blowing minutes, he thrust into you, paying attention to your sounds and movements to know that he was hitting that spot inside you. You meet him thrust for thrust as Bucky began to fuck you like his life depended on it.

He made the mistake of looking down at how your ass took the shock waves of his back shots and the evidence of your arousal left on his cock as he pistoned inside you and he cursed.

“Fucckkkkk! You should see the beautiful cream you’re leaving on my cock, Star. So fucking hot.”

The way you moaned set him on the road to orgasm and again and he reached for your clit, rubbing his thumb over it. Almost as soon as he did, you screamed his name and shattered beneath him. Bucky followed you headlong over that cliff and collapsed beside you, dizzy.

He looked over to see you already falling asleep, exhausted. He kissed your temple and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, coming back with a washcloth for you.

When he was done cleaning you up, he gathered your boneless body in his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead as you curled into him, your head on his chest and leg thrown over his. 

It was like you didn’t want to let him go.

“I know the feeling, Star,” Bucky whispered as he closed his eyes.

A feeling settling in his chest that he’d almost, but not quite, ever felt before.

[ramp-it-up]

Peach MasterList

Peach Series (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet. Will you give up your grudge for love? Will it be a disaster, or the best thing that ever happened to both of you?

Part of the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down Series.

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII 7.5 (The Matrimony)

Ties That Bind

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[ramp-it-up]

Thanks for reading and reblogging!

Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering, emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind a lot since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you. 

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You weren’t used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest. 

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?” 

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?” 

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?” 

There was an edge to the question. 

“And… My lips. All over you.” 

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.” 

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.” 

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard. 

“Oh? What if I want more than that?” 

“You can have whatever you want...” 

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly. 

“I trust you.” 

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him?  He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.” 

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?” 

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him. 

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.” 

“Fuck…” 

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too. 

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined. 

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…” 

“Of course you are.” 

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more. 

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?” 

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit. 

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.” 

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came. 

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well. 

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him. 

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.” 

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well. 

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…” 

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos. 

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him. 

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve. 

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe. 

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you. 

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it. 

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space. 

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit." 

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated. 

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip. 

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimacy of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled. 

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench. 

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook. 

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper. 

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper. 

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.” 

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems. 

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?" 

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form." 

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…” 

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you. 

And he did. 

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both. 

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured. 

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head. 

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach." 

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?" 

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch. 

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient. 

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened. 

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper. 

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page. 

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers. 

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath. 

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much. 

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist. 

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atlanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise. 

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.” 

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured. 

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more." 

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building. 

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered. 

“You do that to me, Peach.” 

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 

“Me?” you asked in a small voice. 

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” 

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.” 

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes. 

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.” 

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra; he pulled you near him to get his mouth on you.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

 “Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?” 

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants. 

“Like you wouldn't believe.” 

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you. 

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. 

Not at all. 

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth. 

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry. 

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear. 

You gaped at him. 

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence. 

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation. 

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and  paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue. 

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.” 

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light. 

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much. 

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip. 

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in your eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness. 

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point. 

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together. 

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and you scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly. 

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest. 

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke. 

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking. 

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you. 

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach. 

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!” 

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!” 

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming. 

You were beautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms. 

“Are you mine?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered out. 

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again. 

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

Read Peach VII