Tumgik
#captain america x f!reader
jen-with-a-pen · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Dancing in the Kitchen
summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.
parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader
word count: 4.9k
warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention
a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3
If I've missed any tags, please let me know!
gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥
my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Everything was cold. 
Everything was ruined.
Everything was a fucking nightmare.
Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.
You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 
You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.
It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 
Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 
Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.
Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you. 
“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”
You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.
“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”
You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.
“Tony, please, I–” 
“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”
Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.
Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop. 
“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”
The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.
“Fuckin’ cunt.” 
Click.
You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for. 
This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family. 
A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–
Knock. knock. knock.
In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.
The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.
Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked. 
Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.
This time was unlike the million other times.
You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.
“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him. 
It was then, everything came crashing down. 
You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.
All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip. 
Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home. 
“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.
“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.
“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”
“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”
“What, angel? What about Tony?” 
“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”
Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone. 
He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.
Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake. 
“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”
You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”
The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind. 
He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him. 
Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.
In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.
All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve. 
Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able. 
And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.
Had he always looked at you like that?
“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him. 
You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him. 
“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”
You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin. 
“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.
He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners. 
“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”
Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs. 
As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend. 
“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”
A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.
“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.
“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”
You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.
“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”
You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.
“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”
Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”
You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room. 
Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.
You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it. 
Or, liked it.
You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee. 
Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards. 
Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve. 
You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.
But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.
Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach. 
You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.
The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind. 
Bzzt.
You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.
⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready 
You looked at yourself in the mirror.
“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”
The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs. 
“Fuck.”
You opened the door. 
⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚。⋆
“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.
More like you. 
You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.
You mentally scolded yourself.
“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”
“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.” 
He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed. 
He was what you needed. 
Was he?
You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again. 
“Thank you, Stevie.” 
“You’re welcome, angel.”
You pinched yourself, then took another sip.
Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock. 
Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down. 
“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?” 
His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.
And your life.
“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.
“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”
Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety. 
“Why?”
You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.
“What?”
“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”
“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.
Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”
“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–” 
You felt tears again. 
“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”
“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!” 
You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat. 
The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.
As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.
Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.
He’d do it all again for you. 
Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.
“May I have this dance?” he whispered.
You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.
Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.
He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.
It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.
Steve had been there. 
Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years. 
He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn. 
And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over. 
Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision. 
Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.
“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.
“Since the day I met you.”
“Why didn’t you–”
Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.” 
Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”
He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating. 
“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”
He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you. 
“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”
You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”
Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding. 
“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”
His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed. 
You crashed together. 
Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.
He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. 
Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”
“Never?” 
“Ever.”
You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild. 
239 notes · View notes
lunarbuck · 6 months
Text
Kinktober Week 1: Love Bites
Tumblr media
header: @jen-with-a-pen
Pairing: Steve Rogers x f!reader (any race)
Word Count: 422
Prompt: Love Bites
Warnings: fingering, pet names [baby], neck biting
a/n: yay day 1 of kinktober <3 i hope you guys enjoy!!! not beta'd, all mistakes are mine baby
my masterlist | kinktober masterlist | join my taglist
Tumblr media
Strong hands roam your body, teasing and pinching as they explore you. You lean back into Steve’s chest as his fingers trace the edge of your panties. You gasp when his lips make contact with your neck, gliding kisses along the sensitive skin.
“Steve,” you whisper, arching your back. He hums against your neck, teeth gently nipping before his tongue soothes the mark. “Don’t tease.”
Without removing his lips from his neck, Steve rests his hands on your waist and starts to walk you backward. He sits on the edge of the bed, you on his lap. The feeling of Steve’s dick pressed against your ass makes your core tighten. 
“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he rasps, fingers resuming their descent on your body. He drags his index finger across the seam of your panties, finding you aching and wet for him. “Feel so good on top of me.” He pushes your panties to the side, exposing your heated flesh to the room’s cool air. You shiver in his grasp, earning you another bite to your neck. 
Two of Steve’s big fingers press inside of you, sliding in easily. You moan, relaxing fully against Steve. He’s steady and strong behind you, but you can feel tension in his muscles. He’s so worked up just by giving you this pleasure. 
Steve’s fingers work magic on your pussy, curling and hitting that spot inside you that makes your head spin, while his lips and tongue worship your neck. His free hand roams the rest of your body, squeezing your breasts and grazing over your thighs. Each touch brings you closer and closer to snapping.
“Stevie, please.” Your voice comes out as a whimper, needy. He smirks against your neck, biting the flesh of your shoulder as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. 
“Come for me, baby. I know you want to.” You twist your eyes shut as you succumb, letting the wave of pleasure pull you under. Steve holds you to his chest as you go limp, sucking in deep breaths. He helps you lay back on the bed, cushioned by the plush comforter. 
Sated and happy, you grin at your beautiful boyfriend when he kneels beside you. You watch him lick his fingers, groaning at your taste. His eyes roam over your neck and shoulders, the spots where he’d bitten, and kissed heating under his attention. 
“You’re so pretty when you come, baby.” Even though you just came, heat floods in your belly. “Why don’t you show me again.”
@flightlessangelwings | #fawktober 2023 list
Tumblr media Tumblr media
please fill out this form to be added to my taglist. must be 18+
strikethrough means you couldn't be tagged for some reason
General: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @nekoannie-chan @late-to-the-party-81 @chibijusstuff @midnightramyeoncravings @wickidlady @buckyb-stan @adoreyouusugar @sebastianstanisagod @kayden666 @km-ffluv @winters1917 @buckysprettybaby @youdontknowmegls
Everything Steve Rogers: @kandis-mom @v-velvetykisscs @keira324 @casa-boiardi @doasyoudesireandlive @marvelzyn @wintasssoldier @hallecarey1 @christinabae @star-buck-barnes @pretty-npeach @threebadgersinatrenchcoat @watarmelon212 @saiyanprincessswanie @nicoline1998enilocin @cope69seethe
Kinktober: @purple-vegan @/casa-boiardi @/cope69seethe @writing-for-marvel
276 notes · View notes
darsynia · 1 year
Text
Hand(s) Off | Ch1: Agony
(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | NEXT
Summary: Bucky Barnes is the most important person in your life. When he confesses to you that he lives at the Avengers tower, and the 'Steve' you've been hearing about for months is actually Steve Rogers, you think that nothing can top that revelation-- and then you find yourself trapped in Captain America's bedroom getting a second-hand dose of NYC's favorite new aphrodisiac, Mistress.
Length | Warnings: 3,271 | None this chapter; story will contain explicit sex descriptions and situations, MINORS DNI
Note: I want to make clear that I'm treating the issues of consent with sensitivity. This is not even a dubious consent story in my eyes; the choices these characters make are kind, as clear-eyed as possible under the circumstances, and respectful-- in fact, that's what causes problems for Steve and Dee in the long run. I do want to be clear though: there will be sexual stuff in this story. I'm not teasing you. It won't be clinical or tortured :)
Fill: Adoptable 'Pheremones' from @allcapsbingo
Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @nekoannie-chan
Tumblr media
Excerpt:
“You grew up with Captain America?” you ask, impressed. Bucky Barnes can really keep a secret.
“Not at all. I grew up with Steve. Skinny, brave Steve. Never backed down from a fight, and now he doesn’t have to. C’mon,” he says, nodding toward the Avengers tower that’s visible in the distance.
There’s something in the back of your mind that’s important, something-- “Oh my God, Bucky!” you gasp, almost stumbling in your shock. “I dragged you to that trivia night, and you did so badly on the Avengers questions! You let me answer the all Captain America ones myself! I totally went on and on about how wonderful and handsome Steve Rogers is. I talked about his ass-- and he’s your best friend?”
“You squeak any higher you’re going to start catching the attention of every purse dog in the city,” Bucky teases gruffly. You shoot a look over, noticing that he’s trying not to grin.
“You jerk!” you say, nudging his right arm with your left elbow. “Were you feeling me out?”
Bucky starts cough-laughing. “You’re going to have to define that one for me.”
Tumblr media
Chapter One: Agony
He’s falling and you can’t do anything about it.
Bucky’s shirt catches on a stub of a branch on the way down. You, the child whose balloon he was retrieving, and the kid’s mother all rush over when he lands in a heap.
“Oh my god, are you--” the mom starts to say.
“Here you go, kid. Hold tight, I’m not going after it again,” Bucky interrupts, hauling himself to his feet. 
“Wow! That looks like it didn’t hurt at all!” the kid says.
“It hurts. Everything hurts. I’m just trying to impress her.” He nods in your direction.
Even though it makes you crack up (because he’s absolutely not), this seems to do the trick. The mom takes a minute to tie a more secure knot in the balloon string before smiling nervously at the two of you and leading her son away.
“I’m sorry,” you wince, taking a picture of the hand-sized rip at Bucky’s armpit that reveals the metal of his arm underneath. You’ve never seen the whole thing, but you’ve felt the arm through his sleeve a couple of times.
“Why are you sorry? You told me not to do it.”
“I’m sorry to have been right?”
“Yeah, okay,” he says grimly, scowling at the phone you handed him and reaching around to feel the edges of the tear. “It shows the join, doesn’t it?”
You’ve been trying not to look, because, yeah, it does. The skin edging the metal graft looks burned and painful, definitely not appropriate for your museum plans. Bucky takes in your uncomfortable nod and his jaw clenches.
“We don’t have to go,” you offer.
“We’re going. I just have to…” He trails off, twisting the shirt around to get a better look. The two of you had decided to take the long way through the park. There’s about an hour before the interactive exhibit opens, but it’s the last day. He wouldn’t even tell you how he got the tickets.
“Okay, what if we swing by a corner store so I can grab a sewing kit--”
Bucky interrupts in a firm voice. “No need to waste the money. I’ll head back home to change; we can get a taxi from there. It’s a bit of a walk.” He shrugs the shirt back into position and starts back the way you’d come.
You have to jog to catch up. “That works.” There are a million things you want to say, but it’s Bucky who speaks first, after fifteen minutes of silence. The two of you reach a crosswalk, and he stops you with his left arm, which in your opinion is a choice.
“Spit it out.”
“You were keeping things separate. You shouldn’t change your mind unless you want to,” you say quietly. He’d said he wanted to keep this friendship to himself for a while, with no connection to the past, and no expectation for the future. You’d found that unexpectedly refreshing at the time, and you still do.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bucky says. “It’s time. I probably would have sat on it for another month anyway.”
It’s been a six month journey from friendly to friends to close friends for the two of you, and it’s only been two months since he’d opened up about his agonizing past. You don’t know everything yet, and that’s okay. You might never know. As long as Bucky knows he can trust you, that’s what matters.
The light changes, and he guides you across, his body language more relaxed now. Still, you want to make things as easy for him as possible.
“I can wait in the lobby--”
“Shit. That won’t help,” Bucky says, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Did you ever look me up?”
���No! You asked me not to.”
He looks at you like you’re some sort of rare creature for a minute, and a slow, appreciative smile grows on his face. You get it-- when he’d told you his actual birthdate, that he’d gone missing in the 40’s, you’d been tempted. But… when someone with a medically engineered metal arm asks you not to poke around in his past, you don’t. Not if you care about him.
“There was a good reason for that, I’m assuming?”
Bucky’s chuckle is deep and amused. “Yeah. I ah, live with the Avengers. Steve’s last name is Rogers. Steve Rogers.”
You’ve heard all about his best friend Steve, enough to feel affection for the man without ever having met him-- but this is not what you were expecting. At all.
“You grew up with Captain America?” you ask, impressed. Bucky Barnes can really keep a secret.
“Not at all. I grew up with Steve. Skinny, brave Steve. Never backed down from a fight, and now he doesn’t have to. C’mon,” he says, nodding toward the Avengers tower that’s visible in the distance.
There’s something in the back of your mind that’s important, something-- “Oh my God, Bucky!” you gasp, almost stumbling in your shock. “I dragged you to that trivia night, and you did so badly on the Avengers questions! You let me answer the all Captain America ones myself! I totally went on and on about how wonderful and handsome Steve Rogers is. I talked about his ass-- and he’s your best friend?”
“You squeak any higher you’re going to start catching the attention of every purse dog in the city,” Bucky teases gruffly. You shoot a look over, noticing that he’s trying not to grin.
“You jerk!” you say, nudging his right arm with your left elbow. “Were you feeling me out?”
Bucky starts cough-laughing. “You’re going to have to define that one for me.”
Tumblr media
“--stop by, that’s all I ask. Redwing would love it,” Sam grins as he opens the door to Tony’s lab.
“I’ll try, but did you have to say it like that?” Steve groans before heading into Dr. Banner’s workspace right next door. A new street drug named Mistress has been causing concern, and with SHIELD still in transition, the government has called on the scientific wing of the Avengers to help figure out how to combat the substance. 
Mistress is an aphrodisiac, a potent one. Banner’s preliminary tests show that it’s likely not of Earth origin, which has slowed down their testing considerably due to safety concerns. That’s where Steve comes in; Bruce thinks his fast metabolism could be the key to figuring the stuff out without putting too many others at risk. That and his lack of a romantic partner. 
Apparently the drug enhances a person’s desire to have sex to a strong need, strong enough that there’s no data on what happens if they don’t. The stuff reportedly burns through people, causing dangerous fevers that have officials fearful that someone’s going to get dosed and killed, not to mention the consent issues.
“Hey, Steve,” Banner says. “I don’t know if you’ve met Doctor Lyonne?”
“I haven’t. First or last name?” Steve asks the attractive female doctor.
“Oh, nice one. ‘Lyonne’ is my married name, though. Sorry to possibly disappoint,” she says easily.
Banner smiles at Steve’s wave-off gesture and says, “I’ll leave you two experts to the interpersonal stuff.” He ignores them in favor of a large glass jar with a bunch of warning labels stuck to it. The liquid inside is clear, and all signs point to it being the drug in question. “All right,” Bruce finally says, stepping away and scratching out about four things on his clipboard. “The plan is to expose you in measured doses and observe the results. It’s pretty volatile-- works if ingested, soaks into the skin, and we think it’s capable of being aerosolized under certain conditions. Drinking it will be the most controlled method, so Dr. Lyonne is setting up dosing cups for me. She’s got a class to teach in about forty minutes, so--”
“That’s his delicate way of saying I’ll be out of your hair and unable to observe anything you’ll be going through over the course of the tests,” Lyonne interrupts.
The door that joins the two labs swings open before Steve can respond, and Tony leans his head in. He’s wearing one of his Iron Man suits. “Before you ramp up Icy Hot here, can I show you my new toy?”
“This is a segue to a sex toy joke, Steve. Retreat, retreat!” Sam calls out from behind Tony.
“I’m wounded!” Tony says, muttering, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that first.” He walks in and grins, holding up his left arm. “Check it out. Nav is still a little spotty, but--”
Steve watches as a shape lifts up from Tony’s bicep area on the suit, similar to Redwing but oval and smaller. 
“Tony, I’d be happy to look at it pretty much any other time, but--”
“You have the whole rest of the day blocked out, Bruce, just give me this!”
The friendship between Stark and Banner always makes Steve nervous. They are the closest aligned in terms of work ethic and smarts, but farthest apart in temperament-- and that’s before the Hulk is brought into play. Steve inches closer to the large glass jug of Mistress as Tony gesticulates wildly, sending the drone careening around the room.
It starts beeping.
“Shit!” Tony shouts. “Uh… apparently something I did set the self-destruct?”
“Why does your drone have a self destruct, Tony?” 
Bruce sounds incredulous and angry, and Steve doesn’t have his shield. As though Tony had set up the whole situation for maximum drama, the thing is headed straight for the jug. Steve lunges to protect it as Bruce maneuvers himself to take the explosion for the team. Someone screams for JARVIS to lock down the building.
Steve lifts the drug container high, meaning to leap out of the way with it, but there’s nowhere to go. The drone’s explosive impact brings forth the Hulk-- which sends Steve and the jug flying backwards into the lab equipment.
Tumblr media
Things turn a bit surreal when you enter the tower. Bucky takes you to a secret side entrance (to avoid the press, he says) but when he gets into the elevator, he seems confused when he can’t talk to it. You’re just about to make a Star Trek joke when he explains there’s usually an artificial intelligence that runs the building, but it’s not responding.
You’re used to pretty much anything apartment-related being out of order, so you’re not fazed. Once inside his apartment, you point out that there’s a sticky note on the opposite side of the door, and Bucky grabs it, his brows furrowing as he reads.
“Shit,” he grins, holding up the note. “Stay here? You’re not authorized for this area.”
“Better hurry!” The tickets for the exhibit are for 1:30, and it’s already 12:50. With a nod, he jogs back into the hallway toward the elevator, and just like that you’re alone in Bucky’s apartment.
It is immediately apparent that he doesn’t live here alone. Underneath a coat rack with multiple jackets is a shoe tray with at least five pairs of shoes in two different sizes. The living room is cozy and lived-in; you see the familiar sight of a bottle of Bucky’s favorite beer sitting on an end-table-- right beside a coaster.
You’re about to reach for it when an alarm sounds, accompanied by an urgent voice.
=Tier One protection activated. Retreat to an interior room and wait for further instructions. Attention: Tier One protection activated. Retreat to an interior room and wait for further instructions.=
You freeze in fear for a few seconds, but when the instruction repeats a few seconds later, you hear a grinding noise in the wall. It’s frightening enough that you dart into the hallway and inside the first open door. The reason for the sound becomes terrifyingly clear a few seconds later as a metal panel encased in the doorframe slides down, too quickly for you to slip out underneath it.
The room turns pitch black in the space between one frightened breath and the next.
After taking a minute to listen for danger, you make your way by feel to the far wall, looking for the light switch. On the way, you trip over something that turns out to be a pair of men’s slippers. You’re glad to let your eyes adjust to the light as you put them back, but when you straighten up, you immediately feel like you’re trespassing somewhere you do not belong.
The room is neat as hell, the kind of tidiness that must come from enjoying a clean space rather than a sense of obligation. However, you soon reassess: this is lived in, less frighteningly neat than well-designed. Everything has its place. It’s different from the easy chaos that Bucky has shown on the few times he’s slept over after movie marathons, so you’re pretty sure this isn’t his room. That, and the white cat plushie you gave him that he swears lives on his dresser? Isn’t there.
Instead, the tray with grooming materials in front of a small mirror are the only objects on the dresser top. There’s a low bookshelf next to an easy chair whose footrest has a worn-in divot. The nightstand is equally neat and functional, with a slightly askew sketchbook hinting that the room’s occupant is an artist.
Unfortunately, these observations are making you more nervous, not less. An intrusive thought that the alarm could be about a fire and there’s literally no way out sends you into a frenzy of banging on the inexorable metal slab. 
“Hello?? HELLO!? Please let me out, please, please let me out!” you scream, slamming your fists against the damned barrier until your hands hurt. You’re crying and frantic and yelling, and suddenly there’s someone else on the other side of the door also yelling, and in the next few minutes everything happens at once. 
You can’t see anything through your tears and fear; all you know is the feel and sound of strong hands and a soothing voice that isn’t Bucky but it should be. That thought sends you into more frightened tears, because he’ll be worried, he’ll be upset, and it might send him into a spiral like the one from a few months ago when he finally explained about his past.
Then, awfully, the grinding sound is back and the warm hands are gone.
You hear several shouted, imperative commands before the man falls silent. He’d set you down in a huddle on the bed wrapped in a blanket, and you kind of… drift back into awareness surrounded by the strong scent of coconut, with a not-unpleasant buzz of awareness deep in your gut.
You pull the blanket closer before you recognize it. You’d been working on it during the first few movie nights you and Bucky had shared, and he’d bought it as a gift for his best friend. That’s what brings you fully back to yourself: you’d handmade the thing that’s warming you up. You’ll be able to tell Bucky that. It’ll help, when the time comes.
Taking in a long, deep breath, you look around, expecting, since you’re no longer alone, to see anything but a metal panel completely covering the door. You’re wrong. There’s damage to the frame, as though someone had pried the previous slab out of the way-- but there’s once again a solid-looking metal barrier between you and freedom.
“Are you okay?” It’s Captain Am-- Rogers. Steve. Bucky’s Steve.
The unreality of your situation is fully hitting you now.
“That’s what you’re going with? Not ‘who are you?’ or ‘funny story about the door…’”
Rogers says, “I did. You were too upset to answer.” He’s tense, clearly uncomfortable, and his clothes are soaked. You wonder if that’s the source of the strange fruity smell. 
“Dee. I’m Dee.” It’s short for Chickadee, your stage-name-turned-favorite-nickname. You think you see recognition in his eyes. “Bucky needed to change his shirt. I didn’t mean-- you have to believe me, I never would have come in here, but he said he would just be a minute, and then a voice told me to hide and…” You’re babbling, but you feel like you’re out of your mind. Of all the people in the world, you’d probably pick Captain America as the one person you’d want to know that you’re eating your vegetables and being polite to your elders, that you wouldn’t invade someone’s private space. “Did something happen to the building?” you ask in a small voice.
“No, this--” Rogers winces. “Bucky asked for extra security or he wouldn’t move in. To slow him down.”
“The Soldier,” you whisper, closing your eyes tightly.
He makes a noise of understanding, then a louder, angry sound. “Everything has gone the exact worst-- I’m sorry,” he grits out. “I’m sorry.”
The depth to his voice prompts a heated curl of attraction that warms you from the inside out. It’s unexpected and strange, given the fear and confusion that’s ruled your reactions in the past minutes.
“I think I should be asking if you are okay.”
Rogers is looking at the floor now, his hands fisted in his pockets. “I was exposed to a… chemical. Tried to do everything right: activated security protocols, set the apartment Dark so I didn’t say or do anything I’d regret before the brain fog set in.”
“What happens when the brain fog sets in?” you whisper, sensing that the answer is what has this man’s body stiff as a board, in contrast with his broken and worried tone.
“How close are you with Buck?” Rogers lifts his head and the intensity in his eyes shoots you with an arrow of concern.
You lift your chin. “Truthfully? I consider him my best friend, why?”
“There’s nothing… more?”
There have been times, multiple times, when you’ve thought about it. But Bucky Barnes is a multifaceted man, and you don’t want to sully his progress towards becoming whole again by making things complicated.
“No,” you say, feeling heat in your chest from the look of understanding in his eyes. Your pause was unintentionally illustrative. “Why?”
“It’s important that I be honest with you: the building is on lockdown, its governing AI is too busy monitoring the Hulk to get us out of this room, and the chemical I was exposed to is Mistress.” He sounds like a soldier reciting battle parameters.
The name sounds familiar, but you can’t place it. Suddenly, you feel too vulnerable on the bed, his bed, so you slide over to the edge in preparation for getting up. The action bares your legs to mid-thigh, and Rogers immediately turns his back on you and hits the wall with the flat of his hand. 
That’s when you remember where you’d heard that name. Mistress. The aphrodisiac is the reason many women have flocked to your cousin’s restaurant to hang out, instead of at bars. Many establishments are offering complimentary test kits so their customers can ensure there’s no residue in their food and drinks. It’s become fashionable to carry around your own cups, just in case. Some bars are actually trying to skip requiring women to pay a cover charge, desperate to return to the status quo. Drinks containing coconut aren’t even served anymore, thanks to the scent association.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” you blurt out, rushing over to the easy chair and covering yourself with the blanket. Jesus, the whole room reeks of coconut. He’s practically steeped in the stuff. “What can I do?”
Steve Rogers’ voice is husky, but pained. “Don’t let today be your first impression of me.”
Tumblr media
Next chapter...
646 notes · View notes
swan-of-sunrise · 6 months
Text
A Night on the Town
Tumblr media
Summary: Steve and (Y/N)’s first date, as told through the eyes of an extremely nervous ninety-seven year old super-soldier and a lovestruck historical-fiction novelist.
Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings/Disclaimers: None
A/N: Hi guys! Today, we'll be getting a little look at Steve and Booksmart's first date after the Battle of Sokovia but before the last chapter of Age of Ultron, and I'll warn you now that there's so much freaking fluff in this one-shot! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!
A Night on the Town May 2015 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Sam Wilson, Washington D.C. (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)
Ever since taking the super-soldier serum in 1943, Steve Rogers had grown accustom to dangerous battles filled with death-defying stunts and adrenaline-inducing action. He almost never experienced pre-battle jitters and now that he was cementing himself in the twenty-first century alongside a team of other similarly super-powered people, he knew that there was no need to be nervous with his fellow Avengers fighting at his side, no matter if they were battling aliens from the opposite end of space or murderous androids controlled by artificial-intelligence. But as he parked his motorcycle on the street in front of (Y/N) and Sam’s house, Steve’s heart pounded in his chest and after switching off the engine, he was forced to wipe his clammy hands off on his dark jeans.
“It’s just a date, Rogers…” He reassured himself, getting off the motorcycle and reaching into the back compartment to retrieve the bouquet of pink roses he’d carefully picked out for (Y/N). “A date with a woman who’s completely and utterly out of your league.” When his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, he nudged the compartment closed and withdrew the device to see who was texting him on his day off, only to heave a sigh when he saw that it was Natasha.
Nat: Go get her, super-soldier 😉
Nat: You’d better give me all the tea tomorrow, or else I’ll decorate your shield with stickers.
Nat: Have fun!
“What the hell does ‘the tea’ mean…?” Steve murmured to himself as he shook his head at the spy’s eccentricities and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He took a moment to make sure that the roses hadn’t begun to wilt on the drive over and when he was satisfied with their appearance, he made his way up the driveway by the familiar yellow Volkswagen Bug and stepped onto the porch; nervously swallowing and wincing at how dry his throat had become, Steve ran a hand through his hair before pressing the doorbell and taking a step back, a smile making its way onto his face despite the anxiety fluttering away in his stomach.
Moments later, the door swung open to reveal (Y/N) and the breath was instantly knocked out of his lungs at the stunning sight. The historical-fiction novelist was dressed in an off-the-shoulder green blouse, short black jean skirt, sheer black tights and dark brown ankle boots, and her (Y/H/C) hair was fixed in the same intricate style she’d worn to the party at the Avengers Tower. Silver hoop earrings and a delicate book-shaped pendant accentuated the graceful slope of her neck, and her subtle touches of makeup brought out the sparkle in her (Y/E/C) eyes. While Steve stared in stunned disbelief, the hints of apprehension written across (Y/N)’s face melted away into a sweet, red-hued smile that he couldn’t help but return tenfold. “Hi, Steve.”
“Hi, (Y/N). You…You look so beautiful.” The historical-fiction novelist mumbled a bashful word of thanks and Steve held the bouquet out for her to take. “These are for you. I, um, I remember you saying in one of your emails that pink roses were your favorite.”
(Y/N) beamed as she accepted the bouquet of roses and took in their sweet-smelling scent. “They’re stunning, Steve, thank you! Let me just put these in some water-”
“I’ve got it, Booksmart.” A smirking Sam appeared at the doorway with his roommate’s purse in his hands, swapping her for the bouquet and giving Steve a look of exaggerated sternness. “Good to see you, Cap. So, you two’ve got a fun night planned; you’re gonna have her home at a respectful time, right?”
“Hi, Sam. I-”
“You don’t have to answer him, Steve, he’s just being a smart-ass.” After flashing Steve a smile, (Y/N) shot her best friend a glare and slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night than annoy us, Birdbrain?”
Sam dramatically sighed and shook his head. “Sadly, not all of us are lucky enough to snag a date with a super-soldier, but I might meet up with Nat later and go to that new bar that just opened downtown. You two have fun, but not too much fun!”
They stepped down off the porch and made their way down the driveway to Steve’s motorcycle, and (Y/N) waited until the front door closed behind Sam to heave an exasperated sigh. “He’s a real character, isn’t he?”
“He’s certainly one of a kind, that’s for sure.” They both chuckled as he reached into his bike’s back compartment and withdrew the spare helmet. “I haven’t been out to very many restaurants here in D.C., so I was hoping that you’d know of a good one we can eat at tonight. Whatever you’d like, I’m game.”
(Y/N)’s eyes lit up in excitement as she fastened the helmet’s strap under her chin. “In that case, there’s a great food truck downtown that serves, hands-down, the best Mexican food. How does that sound?”
Steve straddled the motorcycle and waited for the historical-fiction novelist to lower herself onto the seat behind him before switching the engine on. “I’ve never had Mexican food, but I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”
“Trust me, you’re going to love it!” She exclaimed over the engine’s rumbling, and Steve smiled a little to himself when he felt her arms wrap around his waist. “1560 Wilson Boulevard, you can’t miss it!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Steve shot her a teasing grin over his shoulder and reveled in the feeling of her arms tightening around him as he peeled away from the curb and sped down the street.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seated side-by-side on a brick planter box a little ways away from Pa’ Tortas El Papi’s bustling food truck, (Y/N) and Steve enjoyed their plates of street tacos and ice-cold Coca-Cola’s and fell into easy conversation as Tejano music played in the foreground and string lights twinkled in the tree branches above. (Y/N) was pleased and a little relieved when Steve told her how delicious their dinner was, knowing how different Mexican food was to the super-soldier’s usual cuisine, and there was a proud grin on her face as she watched him eagerly finish his second plate of tacos and regaled him with stories of her many trips to the food truck with Sam. With Steve, (Y/N) felt completely at ease and all of her worries – about the fallout of the Battle of Sokovia, about the legalities surrounding her breached studio contract, about Ultron’s defeat – were put out of her mind by the super-soldier’s comforting and near-addictive presence.
“I like this song,” Steve stated after they’d lapsed into a comfortable silence, both of them enjoying the last of their sodas while they people-watched from their secluded planter box. “It has a nice melody.”
“‘Amor Prohibido,’ released as a single in 1994 from the album of the same name and sung by the incomparable Selena Quintanilla…or just Selena, if you prefer, sort of like Beyoncé or Cher. It’s about forbidden love and wanting to be with someone despite everyone else’s misgivings about their relationship.” When (Y/N) glanced up from her empty glass bottle and caught sight of the awestruck expression on the super-soldier’s face, she felt her own face begin to warm in embarrassment and she awkwardly cleared her throat before continuing. “Anyway, it’s a very good song…one of my favorites of hers, actually.”
Steve chuckled and shook his head in amazement. “Sometimes I forget just how knowledgeable you are when it comes to music, and then you go and knock me onto my ass with a pitch-perfect summation of a random song’s background and details. It sounds cliché, but I don’t know any other word to call it other than incredible, (Y/N).” His azure eyes were shining as he spoke, and (Y/N) knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he meant every word he uttered; her lips curved into a smile before she wordlessly pressed a kiss onto the smooth skin of his cheek and scooted closer to lean her head on his shoulder, smiling even more when she felt his large hand gently wrap itself around hers. “My Spanish is a little rusty, but I’ll bet that there’s a music expert around here that could translate some of it for me.”
“‘Aquí solo importa nuestro amor, te quiero…’” (Y/N) quietly sang along to the impassioned tune and gave Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze as she translated. “‘All that matters here is our love, I love you…’”
Although they’d finally confessed their love for one another just two weeks prior, saying those three simple words aloud again sent a warm tingle throughout (Y/N)’s body, and she was reminded of the super-soldier’s breathtaking grin and the feel of his soft lips caressing hers as they stood in the deserted hangar of the old S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier.
Instead of replying, Steve simply closed his eyes and hummed along to the melody of the song as a light blush dusted over his cheeks, and (Y/N) seized the rare opportunity to study her distracted date; his handsome face was fully free of the guarded expression he’d continuously worn when they first met, making him appear younger and resemble the ninety-five pound man he’d always been before his recruitment into Project Rebirth, and her heart warmed in her chest when she realized her role in helping him open up and slowly but surely join a world that he once believed that he would never belong in. Not many people are lucky enough to see the man behind the shield, (Y/N) thought as she rested her head back on Steve’s shoulder and smiled to herself, but right now I feel like I’m the luckiest person alive.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Doc, uh, are you tellin’ me you built a time machine…out of a DeLorean?”
“The way I see it, if you’re gonna built a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style?”
The auditorium echoed with chuckles of amusement at Doc Brown’s reply and while the time traveling car suddenly blazed its way back onto the screen, Steve bit his lip to hide his disbelief from (Y/N), who was engrossed in the ongoing film right beside him. When he picked a 30th Anniversary screening of Back to the Future for his and (Y/N)’s first date, it hadn’t occurred to him that it was a film revolving around time travel, and the irony of being a man out of time taking his incredibly modern girlfriend to see it was definitely not lost on him. It was a fun film that took a more science-fiction route in regard to the time travel aspect – and as someone who’d gone from 1945 to 2012 in the blink of an eye, it was a nice change of pace seeing someone go from present day to being a fish out of water in the past – but Steve started to feel slightly uncomfortable when the high school-aged George McFly was introduced.
Unsurprisingly, Steve was the furthest thing from popular in high school; he was short, skinny and interested in art and the few girls who’d acknowledge his presence were only interested in fishing for a date with Bucky. The only real difference between him and George McFly was that, despite his abysmal success rate, he always fought back against his bullies instead of cowering from confrontation like George. However, it was George’s infatuation with Lorraine that struck Steve; like him, the high-schooler was hopeless with girls and had a difficult time expressing himself around his crush, something that Steve still struggled with over eighty years later. It had taken nothing short of a world-ending threat for Steve to finally confess his love to (Y/N) and when the adrenaline of the Battle of Sokovia finally wore off, so too did his forwardness.
Bucky always made this sort of thing look so damn easy, Steve silently bemoaned and swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on the screen as he contemplated whether or not he should wrap his arm around the historical-fiction novelist’s shoulders. He reached into their shared bucket of popcorn and sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers suddenly brushed against (Y/N)’s; when he looked over at her, she was smiling at him and he felt himself smile back as she tossed a kernel of popcorn into her mouth that was accompanied by a flirtatious wink and returned her attention back to the screen.
It wasn’t until George and Lorraine’s much-anticipated dance in the school’s decorated gymnasium that Steve found the opportune moment to make his move. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he moved his arm up and slowly lowered it to rest around (Y/N)’s shoulders; he was careful to avoid the bare skin of her shoulder and curl his fingers around the silky material covering her upper arm, but the respectful gesture didn’t stop him from feeling the warmth radiating off of her or detecting the subtle uptick of her heartbeat at his careful touch. Steve’s own breath hitched when the historical-fiction novelist not only scooted closer to his side, but also rested her head on his shoulder; he didn’t bother fighting the smile that stretched across his face as his body relaxed and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head, feeling nothing but love for the woman sitting beside him while they both watched George and Lorraine finally share a sweet kiss.
“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, please be mine. My darling dear, love you for all time. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The moon was shining high in the darkened sky when Steve finally took (Y/N) back home. After the movie, they’d spontaneously decided to visit a nearby ice cream parlor and enjoy their frozen treats while strolling around the block arm-in-arm, and it wasn’t until they noticed several bars beginning to close for the night that they realized just how late it was; they were having too much fun eating their ice cream and laughing at (Y/N)’s many attempts to teach Steve how Instagram filters worked, but they were mainly just enjoying spending time in one another’s presence. The rumbling of the super-soldier’s motorcycle ceased when he parked in front of (Y/N) and Sam’s house and switched off the engine, and silence settled over the street as he gallantly walked alongside her to the porch.
“I had a lot of fun tonight.” Standing on the porch, (Y/N) gave Steve – who was nearly eye-to-eye with her from where he stood at the base of the steps – a teasing grin. “You sure know how to show a lady a good time, Captain Rogers.”
Steve chuckled at that. “Yeah, well, you’d be the first lady to ever think that; most of Bucky and mine’s double dates usually ended with my date forgetting that I existed and both gals trying to make a move on Buck.”
“I suppose it’s their loss and my gain, then.” While Steve’s cheeks turned pink at her compliment, (Y/N) shrugged off the leather jacket he’d insisted on letting her wear when she started to shiver during their stroll, cringing at the cool night air on her flushed skin but handing the jacket over to him; she took a moment to admire the super-soldier’s muscular physique while he slid his jacket back on and was forced to clear her throat before continuing. “Well, I…I should probably head in; Sam’s probably spying on us as we speak and waiting to interrogate me.”
“I’m sure he’d be at the window if he hadn’t fallen asleep while watching reruns of NCIS.” A teasing smile of his own curved his lips upwards when (Y/N) furrowed her brow in confusion. “Good hearing’s just one of the many side effects of being a super-soldier.”
Sometimes, it was easy for (Y/N) to forget that the man standing before her was Captain America, a bonafide superhero who could lift a ton without breaking a sweat and who miraculously survived being frozen in ice for nearly seventy years. To her, he was just Steve Rogers, a handsome man who strived to learn as much as he could, who had a dry but witty sense of humor and who made her feel well and truly loved. “I meant what I said earlier,” (Y/N) quietly admitted and reached out to hold one of Steve’s hands. “Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in…well, a pretty long time.”
Steve’s azure eyes softened as he nodded in agreement. “Me too. I wish it didn’t have to end.” When she arched a brow at that, his eyes widened in panic and he stammered out, “T-That’s, um, that’s not what I meant, I wasn’t trying to…not that I don’t want to, you know, but…I swear, I’m not implying that you and I should…” He awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck and let out an embarrassed groan. “Ninety-seven, and I still can’t talk to a beautiful woman without gettin’ tongue-tied.”
(Y/N) giggled. “That’s true…” Smiling, she brought her free hand up card her fingers through his hair before gently cupping his smooth jaw. “But it’s also one of the many things I love about you.”
Steve gave her a breathtaking grin and leaned forward, his impossibly-long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his soft lips met hers; the gentle and passionate way that Steve kissed her made her feel cherished and while his hand moved to rest on the curve of her waist, she couldn’t help but marvel at how the highly-trained super-soldier’s touch was nothing short of reverential when it came to her. His kisses were addictive and as they finally separated for air, she found herself moving forward to press one last lingering kiss onto his swollen lips before pulling away far enough to meet his hooded gaze. “That was…”
“Scandalous? Inappropriate?” (Y/N) jokingly offered. “Something that would’ve ruined both our reputations in the 1940’s?”
“Incredible.” Steve finished, and the tender gleam that filled his azure eyes as he looked at her caused her own cheeks to flush. “You’re incredible, sunshine.”
That was the first time he’d ever called her something other than her given name, and the added emphasis on the term of affection certainly wasn’t lost on her. In the back of her mind, she resolved to ask him about it one day but in that moment, she all but glowed and bit her lip in a poor attempt to hide her bashful grin. “I know how busy you are with the move to the Avengers’ new facility and the fallout of the Battle of Sokovia, so I’m not sure when we’ll be able to go out again but I hope it’s soon.” After Steve nodded in agreement, (Y/N) pressed a chaste kiss onto his cheek and with a small pang of reluctance, she pulled away from his arms and finally let go of his hand. “G’night, Steve.”
“’Night, (Y/N).”
They shared one final smile before turning away from one another, (Y/N) to unlock the front door and step inside and Steve to walk down to where he’d parked his motorcycle. She gave him a wave once she saw him sitting astride the bike and stepped into the house, but the brief chime of her cell phone forced her to quickly lock up before checking her unread text messages.
Steve: I don’t think that there’s an adequate enough way to thank you for such a wonderful night, sunshine, but I was hoping I could take you out again tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at eight for dinner and another movie?
While her heart practically burst out of her chest with happiness, (Y/N) typed out a brief but enthusiastic reply and tiptoed into the living room to wake her sleeping roommate, but not before giving the vase of pink roses sitting on the kitchen counter an appraising smile and taking note of the fading rumble of a familiar motorcycle outside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
A/N: And there we have it! What did you think of their first date?? Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 
Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 
Stumblin’ In Book II: “Age of Ultron” Masterlist
Tagging:  @mrs-obrien​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​ @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk​​​​ @momc95​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​ @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​ @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​ @junipermurdock​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley​​​​​ @username23345@crist1216​​​​​ @capswife​​​​​ @lilmschild​​​​​ @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​ @y-napotat​​​ @mary1raven​​​​​ @groovyqueer​​​​​ @ljej95​​​​​ @innersublimefury​​​ @prettysbliss​​​​​​  
80 notes · View notes
Text
Chances (Steve Rogers x Reader)
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent!F!Reader
Summary: For most, life is too short to miss any chances. For Steve Rogers, life is too long to take all of them.
Warnings: swearing; mentions of blood, gun use, violence; unhappy ending (alternate ending needed?!)
Word Count: 8.3k
A/N: hey everyone i have a crush i cant do anything about so i made it everyone's problem in the form of this fic. also i swear bucky's coming back to my writing with a vengeance
Tumblr media
“Coulson, slow down,” you grumble. The clock reads an ungodly hour, and Coulson’s near-incomprehensible speech only propels you further into half-conscious annoyance.
“Get up,” Phil urges. “We found him.”
⋆⋆⋆
You lean in, ears straining as Captain America addresses Agent Horowitz.
“Where am I, really?” he says.
Your eyes dart back and forth between several screens.
“Shit,” Fury hisses. A moment later, you hear the door slam behind you.
“Told you!” you call after him as Horowitz reports a Code 13.
You turn around to look at Hill, who watches the monitors with her arms across her chest.
“I told him,” you say as Captain America breaks through the walls, shoving agents to the ground.
⋆⋆⋆
Fury takes a seat beside you with a huff.
With your eyes on your computer, you start, “I–”
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”
Maria peers at you over her screen, flashing you a barely-there smirk. You instead ask a question to satiate your curiosity.
“Is…he okay?”
Fury gives an exasperated shrug.
“Said he had a date.”
⋆⋆⋆
“How’s the apartment, Captain Rogers?” Fury asks. Across the desk, Steve sits, shifting uncomfortably as the chair struggles under his frame.
“Fine,” he says curtly, his eyes flitting between all the different objects in Fury’s office. You and Maria share a look.
“Have you been getting enough rest?” she asks.
“Trying.”
“Well, we have another meeting to run to, Captain,” Fury says, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The agents have a gym in the basement, and the dining facility is on the tenth floor.”
He stands up; you and Maria follow closely behind.
There’s no meeting. You had planned to spend an hour with Captain Rogers, but it’s clear there isn’t much to say. You look back at Steve with his head low, his back hunched.
“What do we do, Fury?” you ask, closing the door behind you.
“Give him time.”
While Hill and Fury retreat to their offices, you change into your workout clothes and make your way to the basement. You’re surprised to step out of the elevator and see an impossibly muscular frame standing by the gym entrance.
“Captain,” you greet. He’s peering past the glass with a slight grimace, staring at the equipment–fancy, shiny things with a thousand buttons each.
“Agent,” he responds, replacing his uncomfortable expression with a solemn nod.
“Nice, isn’t it?” you say, standing beside him to observe the room together.
He chuckles, more out of astonishment than anything.
“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes shift downwards at his feet before peering back up, watching your coworkers sprint on the treadmill or re-rack their weights. “It’s something.”
“What are you gonna do?” you say, eyeing the leg press machine that’s calling your name. You look over at Steve just as he glances at the punching bag. He opens his mouth to answer you, but then he notices the odd wires coming from behind the bag, the complicated mat beneath that seems to be flashing at least five different colors. He closes his mouth and instead shakes his head.
“Just giving myself a tour,�� he answers.
You tilt your head at his fib.
“You got a minute?” you ask, your request earning a raised eyebrow.
⋆⋆⋆
“Migs!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up at the sight of the combat gym owner.
He yells your name in response as you meet in front of his business’s entrance.
“Appreciate it, Migs,” you say as the older gentleman pulls you into a side hug. You wrap your arm around his back, returning the embrace.
“Anything for you, kiddo,” Miguel, a near-father figure who has a few decades on you, responds as he unlocks the gym door.
Behind you, Steve smiles at the friendly exchange. He stays a good distance away, partly out of respect and partly out of caution.
Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the man built like a linebacker with striking movie-star looks.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Miguel demands, gesturing at the hero in the shadows. Steve blinks in surprise. In the past few weeks, he has been the center of attention–not unlike his life before the ice, but somehow completely unlike it at the same time. Despite his longing to be invisible once again, he’s taken aback that someone doesn’t recognize him.
“A friend,” you tell him, shooting Steve a wink. He smiles, welcoming the anonymity.
Miguel turns on the lights, illuminating the gym in dim orange. Steve steps in, admiring the weathered facility. Surrounded by muted walls, a dusty floor, and tattered boxing ropes, he feels a sense of comfort that’s completely novel to him since coming out of the ice.
Miguel takes all of thirty seconds to show the captain around.
“We got mitts, gloves on the rack over there,” he says, keys jingling as he gestures around him. “Boxing ring with a round timer, obviously. Uhhhh, jump ropes, elliptical–if it’s working. And then you got the bags…Oh, and we also got one-on-one training-” Miguel pauses, scanning Steve from head to toe “-if you need that sorta thing.”
Steve chuckles, murmuring his gratitude.
“You need anything else, ace?” Miguel asks you.
You shake your head. “Just sign up my friend for a membership, and we’ll be good.”
Steve’s head snaps up at your request. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
As Miguel passes you an application on a clipboard, you say, “Good thing you didn’t ask.”
⋆⋆⋆
“I hope I’m not overstepping,” Steve tells you, gesturing for the waiter as you slide into the booth.
“Not at all,” you say, still catching your breath from hurrying over. You’re not sure why the captain has called you, but you know it has to be important. Steve’s eyes drift to your brow, where a butterfly bandage holds a wound closed.
“That Loki’s a fun one,” you say, bringing a hand to the injury. You don’t feel the need to indulge him in the details of nearly getting buried underneath a collapsing building. “Is everything okay, Captain?”
“Steve, please,” he insists.
“Is everything okay…Steve?” Though you’ve seen the captain’s name printed in briefs and articles a million times, it feels odd to address him by name. “Miguel didn’t try to charge you that ridiculous sweating fee?”
He lets out an amused exhale through his nose and shakes his head.
“It’s funny you mention Loki. I…wanted to ask your opinion. On the Avengers Initiative.”
Surprise paints your face. You weren’t expecting to be Captain America’s advisor tonight. But you lean back and sigh with the weight of his request. Your waiter comes to take your order, giving you a few moments of reprieve.
“I know what Fury would want me to say,” you say after your waiter exits.
He leans forward, resting clasped hands on the table.
“I want to know what you want to say,” he implores, his piercing gaze making it difficult to collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath.
“I think…you need time to heal,” you begin. “To recover. I mean, not like I’ve got the experience, but something tells me you don’t wake up after seventy years fully assimilated. In a perfect world, you would get all the time you need to be okay before getting back out into the world, let alone saving it.”
He knows the answer, but he presses, “And what world is this?”
The words feel heavy on your tongue.
“One that needs you.”
You watch his troubled eyes, the twitch of his lip.
“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” you say.
He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah,” he mutters to himself.
He looks up at you, repeating: “Yeah. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”
“Glad I could help,” you say. You peek over his head, trying to peer into the kitchen. Steve nudges his plate towards you, and you gratefully take a few of his fries.
⋆⋆⋆
“Dillard, find out what’s going on in Bay 3 for me. So what do you think?”
The upper half of your body is hidden under thick pipes. You peer closely at the maze of metal, willing the leak to show itself.
“He’s…cute.”
You lift your head to look at Nat. The loud bang echoes throughout the room as your head meets pipes. You wince, dragging yourself out of the underbelly of Helicarrier plumbing. Nat raises an eyebrow as you rub your head.
“Not what I thought you were going to say,” you reply. 
“So you disagree?” she says, tilting her head.
“Uh. No?” you say, tapping nervously on the wrench. She smiles as you avert your gaze. “How are the…other ones? Thor and Dr. Banner and the rest?”
“I should probably make sure they’re not tearing each other apart,” Nat says, rolling her eyes. “You coming?”
You look around you. The hull is so much quieter than the rest of the carrier, allowing you to bask in comfortable silence while you and your crew work.
“Nah. Hill is better at that kinda stuff. I’ll be here if you need me.”
⋆⋆⋆
Above you, the ceiling shakes slightly, scattering dust around you. You stand up slowly, the sound of distant rumbling calling your attention.
“All hands to stations.”
“Shit!” you cry, dropping your tools and sprinting up the stairs.
Agents are running all around you, and the hallway is flooded in flashing red. You have no idea what’s going on, but you rush to the weapons room, ready to defend the Helicarrier from god-knows-what.
You crash into someone’s shoulder, the force sending you spinning to the ground. Strong hands grasp your arms, lifting you to your feet.
“Sorry,” Steve says between breaths.
“Steve,” you say. “What’s going on?”
“Under attack. Be safe. Check in later.”
“Copy that.”
He clasps your shoulders again before disappearing into the crowd of agents. You watch him for a second before turning around, continuing on to the weapons room.
Agent Weaver catches up to you.
“First name basis, huh?”
“Shut up.”
⋆⋆⋆
You hesitate before rapping on the door three times.
Steve greets you with a smile. Beads of water are dripping from his hair down his neck.  He’s in sweatpants and a white tee that could definitely be sized up. As you enter his apartment, he hands you a takeout container.
“Thanks for coming,” he says as he closes the door behind you.
“Well, when you bribe me with shawarma…”
He laughs, but he’s rubbing his hands together and crinkling his eyebrows. You set your food down and plant yourself in front of him.
“Hey, it’s just a debrief,” you tell him, wrapping your hands around his biceps. Your touch brings him back to reality. “It’s no big deal. Fury just talks for an hour.”
“Yeah, it’s…been a while since one of these, I guess.” He tries to laugh it off.
You leave his side, sitting down at the dining room table.
“If it makes you feel better, you did about two million dollars less damage than Bruce and Thor.”
“It’s not that.” He throws himself on the couch, stretching his legs along the cushions. “I guess authority has never been a big fan of me.”
“Authority doesn’t get along with Captain America?”
“Authority doesn’t get along with the punk that lied about fifty times to get into the military.”
You speak between bites: “Then you must’ve gotten along with Tony Stark. Wonder why Nat said you had your panties in a twist over him.”
He perks up, resting his arms along the back of the couch. “She said that? Exactly like that?”
You snicker at his sudden interest, choking on a slice of tomato. “Does that bother you?” you tease.
He concedes, leaning back on the couch’s arm. “That Stark is something else. I wonder what Peggy would say if she knew I almost fought Howard’s son.” Steve stares at a spot on the wall, his mind a flurry of what-ifs.
⋆⋆⋆
Ambush. You’ve been tasked to partner with Captain America for his first official SHIELD assignment, and it’s a fucking ambush.
“Stay close,” the captain says.
Steve tosses his shield at someone behind you. You hear them slump to the ground while another approaches; the shield narrowly misses you as you duck and sweep your leg out, causing a third henchman to crash to the floor.
“Watch it!” you say before Steve knocks you to the ground, shielding your body while a whizz of bullets flying past.
“Guess someone has to,” Steve shoots back before pulling you up. You roll your eyes as you unholster two weapons on your belt, one pointed to your left and the other pointed behind you. You pull both triggers without batting an eye. You don’t bother looking; Steve’s mesmerized expression confirms that you’ve hit your targets.
Steve is speechless. He has never seen you in battle before, and it’s–
“Six o’clock, Rogers!” you say, causing the hero to duck down as you aim a bullet at a man sprinting towards you. You hear yet another coming from behind, and you aim a bullet at Steve’s shield. You turn just in time to see the ricocheted bullet take out the last goon.
Knowing you were safe, you let out a fatigued sigh and pat your newest coworker on the shoulder.
“Welcome to SHIELD, Cap.”
⋆⋆⋆
Macau was absolutely beautiful, but the jet lag never quite wore off, especially when your tasks still catered to Eastern fucking Standard Time. As much as you could appreciate the change of pace, you hoped Fury would never give you an assignment like this again.
- idk steve, seems a little unfair to assign me to track the train in vancouver when i was assigned the lemurian star just a couple weeks ago. did you KNOW what time it was over here?!
- anyway, im going to bed. night!
- You've only told me a hundred times. I’m glad it was you helping us out, even if you had to track the Star from thousands of miles away.
- Good night. Sweet dreams.
- :)
You smile at the three notifications on your phone. Tucking yourself under the covers, you reach over to turn off your night lamp.
Ring ring ring.
Maria’s name on your phone earns a prolonged groan from you. So first they schedule meetings at all hours, and now they expect you to pick up the phone at every possible second.
“Hill, I love you, but I swear to god–”
“You remember that sushi place? The one on 10th Avenue?”
You feel a sudden sweat forming on your brow, even though the air conditioner is blasting. You had first heard the coded emergency message years ago, when you first trained for SHIELD. Never did you think it would actually be used.
You clear your throat, forcing your voice to steady.
“Yes, we were there with your mom and your grandma.”
Is someone listening? Are you okay? Who compromised SHIELD?
“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Maria’s voice betrays nothing before she hangs up the call.
You only brought a duffel bag to Macau, and you’re now shoving it full of underwear and clothes. 
Wait, honestly, fuck it–Hill’s call told you scatter immediately, who the fuck cares if you had enough shirts?
You leave the SHIELD-sanctioned apartment, tossing your phone into a nearby garbage bin. You think of Nat, of Fury, of Steve. You wonder if they’re okay, but you have to settle for never knowing.
⋆⋆⋆
Red pixels fill your screen, slowly sharpening into a familiar face.
“Nat,” you gasp. Any suspicion about the unknown number on your burner phone melts away.
“Hey,” she says. She delivers her greeting with the nonchalance of a friend who has just seen you for brunch. “If you were a traitor, you would tell me, right?”
You match her lopsided smile. “No, of course not. Hey, what’s your social security number again?”
Natasha laughs, but her joy dissipates quickly.
“Nat? What’s been going on?”
On your end, you’ve been on the run, though you never quite knew who you were running from. You’ve had no contact with your coworkers since you received the call from Hill. You’ve heard various rumors, but you haven’t had the comfort of confirming their truth.
She peers somewhere off camera.
“A lot.”
She turns back to you, continuing: “He…hasn’t been good.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
You hold your breath as Nat stands up, willing her shaky camera work to still. You can barely make out their bare environment, lighted only by bars of fluorescent light.
“Maybe he should tell you himself.”
You watch as Nat hands over the phone. Steve looks up at her in confusion before turning towards her device. You see the relief flood his features. He says your name like it’s a breath of air after being held underwater.
“Steve,” you greet softly. “Are you okay?”
Steve presses his lips together. His eyes become dazed as he tries to find the words. After a few moments, you say his name again.
“I had a friend.
“A best friend,” he begins. “I thought I lost him.”
He hangs his head, and for a moment, all you see are strings of blonde hair.
“But the truth is much worse.”
The last time you had spoken, Steve was an explosion of excitement, practically setting the world record for longest run-on sentence as he told you Peggy was alive. Now, your heart breaks at the sight of the dejected hero.
“He doesn’t even remember me,” Steve continues.
You want to cry for Steve and tell him everything will be okay. You want to invite him into your arms and hold him. Instead, something tells you to push that aside. You grit your teeth; your grip is tight on your phone. You have half a mind to book a plane ticket to…you don’t even know where they are, but you want to be there, dammit.
“Then do something he won’t forget, Steve.”
⋆⋆⋆
You rush through the halls, dodging white coats and crash carts. 
Room 311, room 311, room 311…
An armed guard reaches out to stop you before recognition settles. You glare at him, but the delay causes you to rethink storming into the hospital room after Steve’s near-death experience. You peer at him through the window, pressing your hand onto the glass. With the stitches along his cheek, the bruising on his jaw, and the scrapes along his browline, he looks…fallible. Vulnerable. Human.
You make eye contact with the man sitting beside him. He looks unfamiliar to you, but the bruises and cuts on his face tell you enough. He gives you a slow nod before turning back to his book.
⋆⋆⋆
You and Steve lean in closely, pretending to be deep in conversation while you keep a watchful eye on Bruce and Nat. You lean against the Stark Tower wall while Steve stands in front of you.
“I knew it,” he whispers, testing the limits of his peripheral vision as he peers at his friends.
“Yeah?” you say, taking a sip from the flute of champagne.
He turns his attention away from the two to face you. “One hundred percent. It was a perk of being friends with Bucky–I could see the girls drooling from a mile away.”
“And if they were drooling for you?” you say, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.
“Yeah. Right,” he says, his eyebrows shifting upwards in disbelief as he takes a sip from his own drink.
“Maybe you just couldn’t tell,” you inform him.
“I think I would know, agent,” he tells you.
You reach out to adjust the collar of his shirt. As you pull away, your fingertips brush against his neck.
“I guess you would, captain.”
He gives you that dazzling, all-American smile before glancing at the bar. Nat looks up at the same time, locking eyes with Steve. He turns back to you abruptly, slamming his hand on the wall by your head in feigned nonchalance.
“Real subtle, Rogers,” you tell him. Tony rolls his eyes at the sight of you pinned beneath the captain’s body.
Steve drops his head, and you feel his hair graze your forehead. You’re glad he’s too engrossed in his embarrassment to notice that his proximity has made you dizzy.
“Shit,” he murmurs, stepping away. “Sorry.”
“Romanoff!” you call with a smirk. “Get the swear jar!”
⋆⋆⋆
“Can we talk about the mall again?” you question. So what if your words are slurring together a little, who cares?
Nat tucks her chin, willing you to continue with expectant eyes.
“So you mean to tell me…,” you begin slowly.
“Yes.”
“You look like that…And Steve looks like that…”
“Sure.”
“And your solution to avoid attention was to…”
“Kiss.”
“Kiss, right.”
You and Nat share a look before devolving into a fit of laughter.
“And it–”
“–worked!” Nat finishes. She takes a swig of her beer. “I’m good at what I do, agent. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Your eyes drop to the floor. You fiddle with the rim of your glass, before telling your friend:
“Tell me it meant nothing.”
Nat looks at Bruce, who has tucked himself between Dr. Cho and Clint. He looks on as Rhodey shares a familiar story, smiling and chuckling at all the right parts. He feels her eyes on him, and he gives her a smile that feels like home.
Her eyes move to Steve next, America’s hero for the better part of a century. He’s unmistakable. He commands attention, and he deserves it, too. He stands tall, knowing the world is always watching.
Finally, her gaze lands on you. You’re incredibly capable, magnificently skilled, and you would deny it all in a second. Her most humble friend, who declines the most notorious assignments to bask in the solace of the less glamorous work instead.
She reaches over the bar to place her hand atop yours. With all due respect, fuck Lillian with the lip piercing, and fuck Kristen from Accounting. Steve’s perfect match is right in front of her.
⋆⋆⋆
You feel your airways functioning again as the weight of the couch is lifted off of you. You swallow lungfuls of air, and the sudden intake causes you to choke and cough. Warmth radiates from strong hands on either sides of your head.
“Hey,” Steve croons. “Hey, I’m here.”
“Actually, I wedged myself between the couch and the floor,” you groan through the sharp pain in your ribs, “in hopes that Thor would rescue me from the big metal man.”
Your poorly-timed joke catches Steve off guard, and he finds himself laughing as he searches you for any hidden injuries.
“Yeah, you definitely have a concussion.”
⋆⋆⋆
You watch as the unfamiliar number blinks on your phone, but something compels you to answer. Steve’s face appears on your screen, an apologetic smile painting his face. The last you heard, the Avengers were following a lead on Ultron before going dark.
“Steve! Are you okay?”
He peers around him. You can make out a sunny window, rustic decor…is that a child’s toy?
“I can’t stay for long,” he says. “But–yes. We’ll…figure it out.”
He sees the concern on your face, and he knows what you’re about to say:
“What can I do?”
“Lay low,” he says, almost immediately, recalling how Ultron nearly ended your life with Stark’s god-awful furniture. “Keep yourself safe.”
You rub your temples. It’s as if you’re being dragged back to SHIELD’s dissolution, hurtled into a life of mystery and solitude that you hadn’t asked for.
You see a wave of red as Nat pushes her head in between Steve and the camera.
“At least five bad language words since we got here, agent,” she says. You laugh, already picturing the look Steve is giving her behind her curtain of curls. “Wish you were here.”
“Me too.”
Steve watches her walk off, and then waits a few moments longer.
“I saw her,” he tells you, his face dropping all signs of amusement.
You shake your head, trying to piece together what Steve wants to tell you.
“She said the war was over, that we could go home,” he continues. “Then I was back, here. On the ground. Alone.”
“You’re not alone, Steve,” you insist.
But he doesn’t quite hear you.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve scoots into the booth, unbuttoning his black suit jacket. You take the seat right beside him. He lets out a subdued sniff and asks you how the convention went.
“I know the world needs you to be big and strong,” you tell him, “but I don’t.”
You open your arms, and he chuckles before resting his head on your shoulder. You envelop him in a hug, rubbing his back.
“Never ask me about those boring fucking conventions again,” you murmur, feeling his tears fall onto the shoulder of your blouse. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Steve.”
Steve fishes around his pocket and brings out his compass. At the press of a button, it opens, revealing a photograph of Peggy. She looked breathtaking, with her strong jawline, perfect curls, and fierce gaze. Steve hesitates, then passes the device to you. You move your arm from Steve to hold the memento with both hands. You run your finger over the photo’s fading edges.
“And she liked you?” you jest to cover the emotions that are running through you. Why are tears prickling your eyes?
“Once,” Steve responds with a chuckle as you pass him back his most prized possession, “a long time ago.”
He sits up, stiffening. Before you can question the change of demeanor, he confesses, “I…can’t sign the Accords.”
You give him a faint smile, as if it hasn’t been the topic of discussion at the Madrid convention. You were more than happy to meet him in London, especially if it meant getting away from chatty politicians with pesky questions.
“I know, Steve,” you say, holding his face in your hands. You run your thumb down his cheek, erasing a drying line of tears. You ignore how the air leaves your lungs as Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. “I know.”
⋆⋆⋆
“You’re too good to be down here, agent.”
Sharon pauses her scribbling to punctuate her sentence with a smile.
“You know this is where I like it,” you tell her from the other side of the bulletproof panel. Sharon slides the sign-out sheet back to you. You stifle a laugh as you read that Go Fuck Yourself has signed out two quantities of kiss my ass. Right before you buzz her into weapons lockup, she stops you.
“Wait,” she says abruptly, startling you. “Are you sure?”
Since the day you took him to the boxing gym, you have become Steve’s safe place. In times of need, on the run with Nat or holed up in Clint’s home, he desperately wished you were there. Never mind the comforting touch or the distracting joke, just your presence beside him was enough to turn the weight of the world into a bag of feathers.
Now, Steve has called in a favor. Get the shield and the wings to Sharon, and she’ll cover the rest. No big deal, just betray the federal entity you work for and be indefinitely on the lam. Run, and don’t take any chances.
“Never been more sure in my life.”
You press the button harder than you need to, and the door swings open. Sharon steps through, taking in the towering rows of weapons.
“Whoa,” she says. The massive basement room was the perfect place to house all of the CIA’s most dangerous arms, including Captain America’s shield and the Falcon’s wings.
You lead Sharon through shelves of alien technology and massive guns.
“Might’ve been less sure if I had a metal hand punching me into the wall, though,” you say, looking back at her as she tries to rub out the pain in her back.
She snorts and shakes her head. “I’m glad you were far away from that mess,” she says earnestly.
“Didn’t really have a choice. When we went into lockdown, I was shut in.”
You shudder as you remember the weapons rooms’ light cutting out suddenly, plunging you into darkness. An agent had announced a code red over the walkie, and you sprinted towards the door–just in time to watch the metal gates slam down. You had pounded on the metal, desperate to escape. Your gut told you what–or rather, who–played a role in the Code Red.
You grunt as you pull on the box. It falls to the floor with less grace than you hoped, and Sharon tugs it open. She lights up at the sight of the vibranium shield, her smile wide and her eyes bright. She catches your eye and immediately drops her smile.
With a shake of her head, she apologizes and says, “Um…thank you.”
⋆⋆⋆
“West entrance, thirty seconds,” Nat tells you. You hear her tapping on her keyboard, and the doors in front of you hiss open. You creep quietly into the darkness of the Raft corridor, with Steve following closely behind.
Steve presses his fingers to his ear.  “We’re in.”
“Wait for my signal,” Nat murmurs. “You have three minutes to take down the guards, then about five minutes after that before their backup arrives.”
“Eight minutes?” you say incredulously. “Steve, she thinks we’re amateurs.”
Nat snickers from the comforts of the Quinjet. “Just know, if you get caught, I’ll sleep soundly knowing I left both of your asses behind.”
You feign a horrified gasp. “Steve! Cover your ears!”
You don’t have to see him to know Steve is currently tilting his head in disbelief.
Nat cuts off any retort he might have had: “And now.”
You and Steve move in unison. He takes a boot to the door, and you spare no time to fire a hailstorm of bullets into the room. Your attack disarms several guards and destroys the audiovisual equipment. Steve tosses his shield around the room, and it bounces off the remaining guards, knocking them to their feet.
You place your foot on a guard’s chest, nodding at Steve.
“I’ll keep them here.”
The captain disappears into the cell block. You can hear the distant sounds of Steve breaking through jail bars, followed by triumphant cheers and joyous reunions.
Your earpiece crackles; Nat is switching you both to a different channel.
“Now’s as good a time as any,” she tells you.
You stare past the doorway, not quite sure how to respond. She continues: “We don’t know when we’ll see each other again. We’re fugitives now.”
A few minutes later, Steve reappears, a proud smile on his face.
“They’re headed to the jet,” he says. “We did it.”
You force a smile back at him as he leads you out of the room. His arm extends to your waist and you hold your breath; but, he continues reaching until he can close the door behind you and break off the doorknob. As he pulls away, you capture your hand in his. You love the way he laces his fingers between yours, almost reflexively.
“Steve…”
We don’t know when we’ll see each other again.
His eyebrows scrunch in concern. Were you injured? Did a guard send out an emergency signal? But your expression tells a different story; his cool blue eyes could bore holes into your skull. You can only stammer, so Steve speaks instead.
“Wherever you go,” he says, unlacing his hands to instead place it on your cheek, “I can always be there. You just say the word.”
You close your eyes. You won’t know when you’ll see him again, and you lean into his touch, pressing his hand harder into your cheek.
“Two minutes,” Nat’s voice, barely audible, comes over your earpieces.
Steve pulls you into a hug.
“Check in. Stay close. Don’t take any chances,” he whispers.
How could you? The biggest chance you could’ve taken just slipped through your fingers.
⋆⋆⋆
“Oh my god! Thor?!”
Steve practically scoffs, scratching at his beard.
“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “How are you?”
“As good as I could be,” you say. You look around the feeble apartment, a micro-studio with a bed and a kitchenette. You landed in Shanghai after abandoning post, figuring one of the most populous cities in the world would be the perfect place to go into hiding.
Steve doesn’t seem to like that answer.
“I’m so sorry.”
“That a grown woman made a decision?” you scoff. “Sure, I forgive you, then.”
You raise a chuckle from him, and he feels that familiar sensation of relief and comfort at the sound of your voice. Steve made you a vagabond, but you held on tight to your favorite title of smartass.
“How about you?” you say. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he says, pushing long strands of hair away from his face.
“You with Sam? Nat?”
“Nearby.”
“Bucky?”
“With a friend.”
You blow through your lips.
“Sharon?” You say your friend’s name as if it were a throwaway line.
Steve squints at you through the screen, and you shift uncomfortably on your mattress. Your eyes dart everywhere–anywhere but your phone–while you wait for his response.
“No,” he answers. “No idea where she is.”
You purse your lips. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear, and you feel an odd mixture of happy and sad all at once.
“Are you just checking in?” Steve wonders. “Or–?”
“Yeah,” you quickly answer. “Checking in.”
Silence settles for a few moments, before Steve tells you: “I wish you were here.”
You give him a measly “me too” and a sad smile.
“Soon?” you offer, though it’s the emptiest promise you’ve ever given.
“Soon,” is his response, the biggest lie he’s ever told.
⋆⋆⋆
You promptly withdraw your pocket pistol, peering around the corner. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the CIA found you, but, damn, you just got to Cape Town. With your finger on the trigger, you step out of your hiding spot…
…and are greeted by familiar blue eyes.
“You said stay close, right?” Steve says with a smile.
You call for him breathlessly. Your body suddenly feels like jello and your knees threaten to buckle underneath you. Your gun nearly slips from your grasp as you run forward, right into Steve’s welcoming arms. He locks you in a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. You feel your feet leave the ground as Steve lifts you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to burst into tears.
With only the occasional video call being your only form of communication, you’ve nearly forgotten what Steve looks like from the shoulders down. When he puts you down, you hold him at arm’s length and stare, as if you’re trying to commit him to memory.
“Steve,” you say his name again, still reeling from the fact that he’s here, he’s really here. You shake your head vigorously. “You can’t be here–it’s too dangerous–”
“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I couldn’t go without you.”
“Go where?”
⋆⋆⋆
You squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft passes through the translucent panels. When you open your eyes, the panels are behind you. The warrior piloting the plane smiles at your shock.
Steve watches you the whole time, captured by the sense of wonder painted on your face. He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder.
“Welcome to Wakanda.”
A small welcoming committee smiles brightly as you and Steve step off of the aircraft. Steve goes straight to a man with a bun, while the other two approach you.
“Greetings, agent,” the king greets you. “I am–”
“King T’Challa,” you say, meeting his handshake with fervency. “Your highness, it’s an honor.”
“The honor is all mine,” T’Challa responds with a smile. He gestures to the younger woman beside him. “And this is Princess Shuri, my sister.”
“Princess,” you greet. You reach your hand out, but quickly shift into a fist bump as Shuri reaches out a closed fist.
“Agent,” she responds with a grin. “I hope you will find your stay enjoyable.”
“Are you kidding me?” you say, then realizing you’re speaking much too casually for royalty. “I mean–the plane ride was easily the most luxurious experience of my life. I’m not sure how you’ll get me to leave.” Shuri’s grin spreads wider.
“I apologize, but we must be going,” T’Challa says. “But you have everything that you need, I assure you.”
You peer over at Steve, who grips the brunette’s shoulder as he laughs.
“And if you don’t,” Shuri calls as she and her brother take their leave, “you can ask any of the bald, mean-looking women.”
“Shuri!”
“They’re the Dora Milaje,” the man beside Steve explains as they approach you, “Wakanda’s elite warriors.”
Steve chest swells with pride as he introduces, “This is Bucky. My best friend.”
Bucky’s shakes your hand. He doesn’t wait for you to introduce yourself, instead saying your name to you.
“Heard a lot,” Bucky says with a smile. You glance at Steve, surprised that you’ve been a topic of discussion for the two.
“All good things,” Steve says, grinning at his best friend.
“Oh, great things,” Bucky adds assuredly as you feel your ears burning.
⋆⋆⋆
Ayo, one of the warriors, spares a few moments to meet you and Steve. She stands solemnly as you sit on the grass, your palms rested behind you.
“Bucky is, um…?” You’re not quite sure how to ask if the man is still capable of snapping your neck without an ounce of regret.
“We are working on it,” she says, keeping her eyes forward. You follow her gaze, watching as a group of children do and redo the best friends’ hair. Steve’s hair is first in a high ponytail, then two low buns. He catches your eye and waves, a wide grin on his face. You wave back as he and Bucky laugh at each other’s hairstyles.
Ayo follows Steve’s gaze back to you.
“We had arranged two bedrooms…”
You sit up straight with wide eyes.
“Th- And that’s totally fine.”
“It is no issue.”
Ayo walks away as Steve chases some of the children, feigning fatigue as they run away giggling.
“It’s a good look for him,” Bucky comments. Bucky is eyeing the three ponytails on top of his best friend’s head, but you’re taking in the sight of Steve consoling a child who has fallen. He gestures elaborately, as if casting a magic spell on the scrape. The child laughs and runs away, instantly remedied.
“It is,” you murmur.
You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you clear your throat. “Was–Was he like this before, too?”
Bucky cheeks puff as he releases an exaggerated exhale. “Hell no.”
“No?”
“Worse, so much worse. Insufferable, really.”
Steve jogs up to you. “They call you White Wolf, Buck? Do we all get nicknames?”
“Maybe,” Bucky says with a shrug. “You could be…”
“White Man,” you offer, earning a disbelieving look from Steve and a hearty laugh from Bucky.
“Or,” Bucky says, “I can tell them that Peggy called you–”
Steve shoves his friend, earning another laugh from the brunette.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve leans his forearm against the window. Below, the city lights dance, bright glimmers against an otherwise dark night.
“It’s good for him here,” he tells you with a smile on his lips.
“Wakanda looks good on you, too,” you say. The bed shifts as you stand up, joining Steve at the window. Wakanda is absolutely beautiful, and you understand why the country is hidden away from the rest of the world. “Maybe you should stay here.”
“Maybe we should,” he suggests, “but clearly their space is limited.”
You and Steve peer back at the singular bed that occupies the room.
“I told Ayo–”
“And I told Bucky–”
“It’s no big deal, right?”
“Right,” Steve says, mirroring your doubtful tone.
You both gingerly approach, like two idiots who have never seen a bed before. He cautiously approaches one side while you approach the other, slipping in and leaving as much space between you as possible. Steve scoots closer ever so slightly, but grabs a pillow, fluffing it and placing it between you two.
You and Steve spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling until your eyes form warped images in the darkness. Eventually, he sighs. You turn to ask him what’s wrong, but instead see him take the pillow and toss it across the room.
“Fuck it,” he murmurs, pulling you into his muscled chest.
“Language,” you mutter. But your eyelids already feel droopy as sleep pulls you under. Tonight, sleep smells like sandalwood and feels like heaven. Tonight, your dreams are blonde wisps and bright eyes that threaten to pull you into the ocean deep.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve is just broad shoulders and sullen disposition from your spot in the darkness.
“...Tony Stark, also known as the hero Iron Man, has been reported missing…”
“Get your things, Steve,” you say, stepping out from the shadows.
You’re the only thing that can pull Steve away from his racing thoughts. He forces his eyes off the screen, away from the image of a grinning Tony.
“Where are we going?” he says as you reach out to tug on his shoulder, a silent urge to gather his things. His hand finds a home over yours, holding it in place.
“Edinburgh.”
⋆⋆⋆
You start the search again, maybe the fifteenth time in the past five minutes.
The bar slowly fills up, reaching one hundred percent…
No results found.
“Nothing, Steve,” you tell him, your voice hoarse. Thanos might as well have vanished.
The captain is still for a moment before his hand comes down on the console table. After the glass breaks and the books clatter, you can only hear Steve’s deep breaths as he tries to calm himself. He takes long strides towards the door.
No results found.
“Steve–don’t take any chances. We’ll find him,” you say pleadingly. “He knows we’ll find him.”
As Steve mourned Bucky back in 1944, he wished he had something to bury. A final home for his best friend. A meeting place for him to visit. Something, anything to remember him by. Now he has his ashes, and he realizes how stupid he was to think it would bring him any relief.
No results found.
“Then he should be here to tell me himself.”
You flinch as the door slams shut behind him.
⋆⋆⋆
You pull a brown plaid shirt from Steve’s closet. You hold it up to his frame.
“I should’ve told you this eleven years ago,” you say as you pull the shirt off its hanger, “but you should really size up.”
He chuckles as he takes the shirt from you, slipping it through his arms. You begin to button the shirt as Steve looks on through the mirror. These days, he’s not quite sure who it is looking back at him.
“I don’t know what to tell them,” he says. If he wasn’t so numb, he might feel anxious. His stomach may have flipped at the thought of the support group sitting in a melancholic circle, staring at him, waiting for his words of wisdom.
You give him a sad smile, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He captures your hands in his before you can pull away.
“Tell them what you told me,” you say, and your hands slowly slip from his grasp. “About Peggy.” You give one final tug on his shirt before sending him on his way.
⋆⋆⋆
Steve looks anxious at your weekly dinner. He pushes around the contents of his plate without taking a single bite. You watch him, waiting for him to speak. When nothing ever comes, you ask him yourself. He drops his fork, finally stopping his nervous assault on his sliced carrots. He can’t stop thinking of Scott Lang, waving at him from the security cameras.
“What have you heard about…time travel?”
⋆⋆⋆
“Buck, can I…talk to you?”
Steve’s hesitant question causes you to put down the bandage. You’re not quite sure why Steve called you to the compound at this hour, and you’re even more unsure of why he was nowhere to be found while you made yourself comfortable in the kitchen. You feel lucky enough that Bucky made his way down, looking for something to sterilize his wounds. Usually, you would kill time talking to Nat, but–
“Sure,” Bucky answers. He gives you an unreadable look as he disappears with Steve into his room. You keep yourself busy, cleaning up the used medical supplies, until the super soldiers reappear. You see Bucky’s jaw clench ever so slightly; otherwise, he is nearly expressionless. He approaches you, nodding towards Steve. You slip off of the kitchen counter stool and Steve places his hand on your lower back, leading you into his room.
His room in the compound is nearly bare, save for what Tony has furnished himself. Not even the record player that he proudly found years ago, the only possession in his former SHIELD apartment.
You sit at the edge of Steve’s bed while he moves his armchair and plants himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, leans forward, and stares earnestly into your eyes.
“Steve?” You can’t ignore the feeling churning in your gut.
“You have been so good to me,” he begins. The inner parts of his eyebrows raise up in sincerity. “And I just want to say thank you.”
“You’re…welcome,” you say, a quip getting lost in your confusion.
“Tomorrow, I return the infinity stones.”
You nod. You knew that. He knew you knew that.
“And…I’m not coming back.”
You let out a wry chuckle. “Don’t worry,” you say, finding your voice suddenly hoarse. “You know Dr. Banner will make sure–”
“The last stone I have to return is in 1949,” he explains. Are you shaking your head at him? Is your entire body quaking? You’re not quite sure. “And I’m going to stay.”
I love you, Steve.
I love you so goddamn much.
I’ve loved you from that moment you sat in Fury’s stupid, flimsy chair.
I’ve loved you since you looked at me like I was your entire world, all because I took you to the worst gym in New York.
I’ve loved you in every moment, in every iteration, in every semblance of you.
And Steve Rogers, I know you love me, too.
You want to reach for Steve’s hand, but you’re frozen, and your clammy hands stay rooted in your lap. You give him a smile that you hope looks genuine.
“You had a date.”
⋆⋆⋆
You leave Steve behind in his room, insisting he didn’t need to walk you out. Insisting you didn’t need to spend the night, or ask any more questions.
Bucky leans against the kitchen counter, unmoving. You move to stand beside him.
“He can’t,” you whisper as you approach. Your fists are clenched so tightly that you’re nearly drawing blood.
“He made his choice,” Bucky responds. He matches your hushed volume, but his collected tone contrasts your panicked timbre.
“He can’t,” you say again. Maybe he didn’t hear you correctly.
“It’s his life,” Bucky tells you, in the same even voice.
“He can’t.” Your knees can’t hold you anymore. You’re falling, and Bucky catches your wrists in an effort to keep you from slumping to the ground.
You fight against his grip. You find the sides of your fists beating against his chest. Bucky falls with you. His cold eyes stare ahead, into the darkness beyond the compound. Your tears are hot, pouring onto your face like streams of lava.
He can’t
He can’t
He can’t
⋆⋆⋆
“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”
“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”
You watch the best friends pull each other into an embrace. Bucky’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
Steve turns to you, and your bitter frown turns into a painted smile. His muscled arms pull you into a hug next.
“Check in,” he says.
“Stay close,” you respond, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Your eyes squeeze shut as you pull him into a tighter embrace. When you release, Steve flicks away a stray tear from your face.
“Don’t take any chances.” He lingers a moment too long with his hands pressed against your jawline, his eyes searching for something unknown in your expression. Eventually, all too soon, he steps into Dr. Banner’s machine. At the press of a button, he’s gone.
Bruce counts down, preparing his machine for Steve’s return, one that you know won’t ever happen. Eventually, beside you, he and Sam break into a frenzied argument, but somehow they sound so far away.
“Sam.”
Bucky’s sharp voice draws the attention of the three of you. You follow Bucky’s gaze to an elderly man sitting on a bench. You can only see the back of his head, but you gasp.
Your feet are carrying towards the man, right alongside Sam and Bucky.
You can feel Sam’s perplexed gaze shift from you to Bucky.
“Go ahead,” Bucky urges.
You feel like you’re watching from miles away as Sam slowly approaches the captain. Every heartbeat feels like your heart is sinking further down into your stomach, and you force yourself to walk away. As soon as your back is turned, the tears flow freely. You stifle your sobs, disappearing behind a tree, out of sight from the other four heroes.
Bucky keeps his smile as he watches the astonished Sam receive the shield, just as he and Steve discussed. He sees the journey ahead for Sam, the man with a future yet to forge.
He glances back, seeing only a portion of you behind a tree trunk, heaving with the weight of your burdened cries. His heart aches for you, a lifetime of possibilities turned into memories of the past. The light at the end of the tunnel was simply a mirage for the woman left behind.
114 notes · View notes
goodgirlofglory · 1 year
Text
Silver fox and the Captain - Chapter 3
Chapter 2 - /Masterpost/ - Chapter 4
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
Word count: 2,1k
Warnings: Explicit language, some sexual content (ie a lot of making out and grinding)
Summary: Things flourish in unexpected, heated ways between you and the Captain, but can you afford such a distraction without tipping your whole world off balance?
Tumblr media
You were crazy. Absolutely insane. The whole situation was completely out of hand.
And with a reckless sort of abandon, you loved it. 
You tightened your hand in the captain’s shirt and dared to slip your tongue out to swipe against his bottom lip. His lips parted on a small gasp, his massive frame trembling just the slightest. And then his tongue was in your mouth, his burly body pressing you back to pin against the wall. 
Some distant flaring alam in your head told you to get out before he had you entirely immobilized, but it was drowned out by the thrill of temptation. The sheer adrenaline of sneaking around with him, tethering the edge of danger by letting him get you in this position and then get out of it. It was heady and way too salivating to resist. 
You and the Captain had worked up a bit of a habit over the last months. A sort of dance, taunting and teasing - both for dominance and for each other.
He had cornered you in the noisy underground techno club that first meeting after you’d kissed him on the casino rooftop, and you hadn’t gotten so much more as a word out before he’d grabbed you by the scruff of your neck and laid one on you, smirking satisfied to himself when he saw you stunned expression after, your mouth hanging slightly open while your brain rebooted itself. You told him to go fuck himself before you danced with him most of the night. Then, as Black Widow sauntered up to pull him towards the night's target, you slipped away to do the same. You’d escaped with a pair of rocket boosters looted from one of Stark’s autonomous suits, but not before giving Captain America’s ass a good slap. 
You got a slap back a few weeks later when he ambushed you squatting in the rafters of the old theatre in Stockholm, watching out for the illegal trade of palladium underneath. Your ass stung like hell from the smack, but the thrill of the force and the way his eyes lit up as you scowled at him made it all worth it. Especially when you almost immediately put your hands in his hair and crushed your lips together. 
It was all fun and games, really. Lighthearted, hormone-fueled, dangerous fun, feeling like fumbling teenagers as you stole kisses from one another before the prefects caught you. It would be, anyway, if Rogers didn’t insist on getting to know you and your story in between licking into your mouth with increasing fervor. 
“Why are you doing this?” he’d ask, panting slightly, warm hands sliding up your sides. “Who’s your allies?”, he’d ask as he let you flip him over to pin against the wall. Who’s side are you on, what’s your story, where do you go after this - all these burrowing questions all in order to understand you. Being understood by Captain America was the last thing you wanted, and by the time he got around to the “I can help you if you’re in trouble,” you’d had enough, your irked mind warring with your tingling body. By then it was usually time to move anyway, but you couldn’t resist punishing him by biting his lip just the tiniest bit too hard before disappearing, hoping it would discourage him from asking all those questions. It seemed to only make him more keen if you thought about it.
In truth, you were more curious about why he had let this go on for so long. Surely he could track you down and take you out if he wanted. He was Captain America for fuck’s sake. Or were you really that good?
It was hard to keep your thoughts focused on that when his hands stroked down the back of your thighs, the Captain bending slightly at the knees before he hoisted you up. You yelped into his mouth, blood singing with excitement at his manhandling. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your glittering, red gown riding up your thighs in the process. 
You’d sought each other out in the alcove on the second floor, looking out over the highly exclusive and ridiculously lavish art galla well underway below. 
You hadn’t seen him in three months, and had caught yourself smiling stupidly as he'd approached you in a perfectly fitted black tux with a bright blue bow tie. You’d hid your smile in your martini, along with your suddenly flaring nerves, but kept his gaze as he’d sauntered up, as confident and relaxed as he always appeared. 
“As much as I enjoy this look on you tonight, there is no point in you being here today,” he’d said. 
You’d scoffed. He said something along those lines every time you saw him. 
“Elaborate, please. Why is that?” you asked, willing to play this game, already plotting out which curtain you could lure him behind. 
“I’ve let you get away with this for too long. I won’t anymore,” he said simply, eyes serious even as he let them rake over your form. Your skin sizzled with warmth under his gaze. 
You knew what he was talking about. He was adamant you not get away with any smuggled objects anymore. He’d said so for months. And even though you’d gotten away with something each time, it did get harder and harder. You’d have to resort to using dirtier tricks, more complicated tech, get closer to the action and had gotten away with less and less valuables for each encounter with the Avengers. They were strangling your income, your field of movement slowly shrinking. It was infuriating. Years and years of work - meticulous, dangerous work, your whole life - threatened by these people who thought themselves better than you because they had some government-funded agency backing them with millions of dollars and a favorable reputation. It wasn’t as if they acted any differently than the criminals. Not really. They still made and used dangerous weapons, killed and maimed, blew up buildings and destroyed people's incomes. 
You were haunted with an ever growing desperation these days, scrambling to keep your life in balance. Your contacts had started to shun you, afraid the Avengers would go after them once they got to you. Yeah, word traveled fast in the underworld, and while you didn’t think they knew you regularly tangled tongues with America’s golden boy, they knew you had S.H.I.E.L.Ds eyes on your neck. You couldn’t blame them. This was the worst thing to happen to you. 
Though, when Rogers held you like this, cradling you in his strong, capable arms, his masculine, cirupy scent of musk and spice enveloping you, it was easier to forget your blights and lose yourself to the arousal that wound up like a maelstrom inside you. God, you hadn’t felt this alive in…you didn’t know how long. It made you adamant, crazed, like some half mad animal chasing a good feeling for no other reason than that it felt good. 
And it did feel good. God, did it feel good. Rogers was sure and insistent, overwhelming and dominant, couldn’t help it with his size and strength. But he was also gentle, reverent in the way he gripped you, cradled you to him, pressed you so close you were practically glued from mouth to hip, so easily filling every crevice of your consciousness with his look and smell and taste and feel. It was like he himself couldn’t breathe properly if he wasn’t in some way touching you. He hadn’t hoisted you up into your arms like this before, though. That was entirely new, and entirely too hot. 
“Eager,” you chastised in a murmur against his lips, but your voice was raspy, betraying just how affected you were. 
He smiled against your lips, hands kneading into the flesh of your thighs as he pushed you up against the wall of the alcove shrouded in shadow, and kissed you again, tongue hot and wet in your mouth.
And while you had felt him getting hard against you before, in moments cut way too short where he’d been plastered against you and his (rather impressive) bulge had poked into your stomach, you had never had it perfectly between your legs, pressing up against you right there. He had never done anything to draw attention to it before; the perfect gentleman with a raging hard-on from a few kisses. It was adorable, honestly, and an incredible confidence boost. And so unbelievably fucking hot. You were thankful your own arousal was less noticeable in nature, since you were practically gushing into your panties at the mere sight of him these days. 
He situated himself nudged between your splayed legs, intimate and with such confidence it made your breath hitch. It was like he belonged there, like it was the most natural place for him to be. You reeled with the arousal that crackled up your spine, at this new line the two of you were crossing, inching towards something more than a kiss in the dark and a smack on the ass. 
He swallowed your hitching gasp and groaned as your hands went into his hair for something to hold on to. He ground against you with a small roll of his hips and you felt your slick panties move against the heated skin of your pussy. You moaned into his mouth and his massive, sturdy frame shivered slightly again. 
You felt an almost painful sting of possessiveness in your chest at that. This man, this strong, noble hero with the world on his shoulders, who could withstand hardship beyond imagination and be a reliable and trustworthy leader for everyone around him, trembling in your hands, breathing life itself into your dormant lungs with his hot moans of arousal, seemingly starved for touch, for intimacy…almost as much as you. 
Fucking hell, you suddenly thought to yourself. When did you start thinking like this? When had you turned into such a soppy mess? Had you gone completely soft from only this? 
Rogers’s hips rolled in smooth, steady circles against you, sending hot flames of heat up through your body, making your cheeks blaze. You had your trusted sport shorts underneath your dress, but the thin, elastic fabric and soaked panties were no barrier against his hardness. You felt it, obscene in the way it stretched his tuxedo pants. 
God you wanted it. Wanted it so much it frightened you. You blinked your heavy eyelids open, slowly coming back to reality. You always had to at some point. Tonight’s bust was the exchange of smuggled weapons disguised as an art auction in the heart of Vienna. 
You needed tonight's bust to be good. Your reserves were nearly depleted, and you had some unsavory buyers on your neck. While they hadn’t been explicit (yet), the clear dissatisfaction over your last loot had turned their otherwise neutral correspondence a bit unfriendly. You knew of the horror stories of this particular gang - how quickly smiles turned to frowns, how quickly people disappeared at their hands, and how no one dared speak a word of it after - people you’d seen in your periphery for years suddenly gone like they never existed. 
You couldn’t risk that happening to you. You needed a good hit tonight. 
“What’s wrong?” Rogers asked, and you realized you’d frozen, staring ahead into nothing, and you blinked, his face appearing, that infuriating line between his drawn down brows showing a kind of concern you just couldn’t believe he felt for you. It was a mockery, and you bristled. 
Noticing the change in you, he gently set you down on your feet again, but he kept you pinned against the wall, probably out of instinct now. He’d called you a slippery eel not too far back, when you’d successfully wiggled out of his grasp while escaping a bust in a shut down metro station in Santiago, Chile.  
“Little fox,” he said, in lieu of your name, for you hadn’t yet given it to him. 
He tried to catch your gaze with his, but you refused, a sudden, unrecognizable panic riding through your chest at the thought of tonight’s stakes. His hand reached up to graze a knuckle against your cheek, and you recoiled, furious with his tenderness, and how much a part of you wanted to lean into it. It was so fucking dangerous to let yourself turn soft. Even if Captain America might be one of the few men you could have trusted to not exploit your weakness, just about everyone else in your life would jump your ass at the first sign of vulnerability.
You batted his arm away and scrambled from between him and the wall. 
“Let me help you,” he started to say, but stopped dead in his tracks. You looked back to see him touch a finger to his ear piece, his gaze nailed to you. He seemed momentarily torn, frustration flashing in his baby blue eyes. 
“Copy, I’m on it,” he said at last, and you knew it was time to get to work. Time to get back to reality. 
You slipped from the alcove before he could lower his hand. 
66 notes · View notes
buckyalpine · 9 months
Text
Spicy Snacks
Bucky x reader, Steve 
Warnings: 2 high super soldiers who get into your stash of spicy snacks, fluffff 
“Dear god” 
You weren’t sure what it was you were going to walk into when you heard a ruckus in the kitchen but it was everything but this. Literally anything. The last time you’d seen such a mess was when Peter thought it’d be a good idea to babysit Morgan alone. Even that was salvageable. You should’ve known how bad it would be, given the trail of crumbs you followed from your drawer to the kitchen, but still. 
This was something else...
There were snacks strewn about left, right and center. Bags of chips and candy littering every inch of the counter tops. 
But what truly topped it all were the two massive super soldiers sitting cross cross apple sauce on top of the kitchen island, giggling like school children with their hands, literally in the cookie jar. 
“Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Steve sang to himself while stuffing a chocolate chip one into his mouth, practically swallowing it whole. 
“Steve stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Bucky snickered, taking the jar for himself and scarfing them down two at a time. 
“Who me?”
“Yes you!”
“Not me!”
“Then who?” 
“What are you two idiots doing” Your voice broke them away from their nursery rhyme, staring at your boyfriend first before turning to his bestfriend, the both of them trying to hide the jar behind their backs. 
“Nothing’ y/n” Steve gave you a dopey grin, his baby blue eyes glazed like donuts, snickering at his bestfriend attempting to stab an apple juice box with the straw.
“S’too hard!!” Bucky whined, sticking his tongue out in concentration, eyes wide, trying to get his straw in to no avail, looking back up to you for help. He gave you his most innocent puppy pout hoping you’d help him, sticking his hands out for you to take his juice. 
“Bucky get down” You huffed, trying to hide your smile when he clambered down like an admonished child with his head hung. You rolled your eyes, pushing the straw and giving it back to him, shaking your head at the grin he gave you, whispering a shy thank you. 
“Ooooooo you like herrrrrr” Steve howled, now kicking his feet, letting them hang off the counter while Bucky blushed, peeking at you through his lashes. “BUCKY HAS A CRUSH” 
“Nooooo” He drawled out, taking a long sip from his juice box. 
“We’ve been dating for 2 years you dork” You watched his cheeks redden more, which only made him more adorable but you weren’t sure how much more nonsense was going to ensue when the both of them were higher than kites. 
“She’s my girlfriend” Bucky giggled at the last word, now struggling with a new box while Steve’s eyes lit up, a classic God awful captain America plan had bean to manifest itself. He slipped off the counter, the effects of the gummies and whatever else he’d swallowed had knocked his agility off its rockers; he moved with the grace of a donkey. 
“Where are you going” you stopped him before he could sneak off, your boyfriend looking equally guilty. 
“Noooowhere” Steve shrugged but you gave him a pointed look while Bucky flailed his hands, hoping to silently communicate they were not about to do something idiotic. 
“Sit down. Finish your snacks and then you both need to go take a nap” You felt like you were talking to toddlers, not bothering to add they had to clean their mess because you were sure that would only end in more chaos. 
“But we were gonna go flying with Sam’s wings!” 
“I can’t believe I’m saying this” You muttered to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose before speaking again, “No. You can’t just go take Sam’s wings and go flying. Now finish your juice boxes and go to bed” 
“NOOOO” Steve jumped onto Bucky, wrapping his long legs around his waist, holding onto him like a massive koala, giving you his best puppy eyes, matching his equally ridiculous best friend. “WE DON’T WANNA GO TO BED” 
“Boys....”
“Please???” Bucky pouted effortlessly holding the captain up while your face scrunched up, mentally face palming yourself.
“No. No, you cannot go flying! You’ll end up hurting yourself or breaking the wings or- for fucks sake what are you doing?!” You gawked; Steve and Bucky had stopped listening many moons ago. They were back to rummaging for food, a stray sour patch kid falling to the floor. 
“5 second rule” Bucky shrugged, bending over to pick it up, not seeing the smirk that crossed his bestfriends face. 
“Chubby dumpling” Steve whispered, giving Bucky’s ass a poke, making him yelp. Bucky stared at him like a deer in headlights while Steve cackled to himself, tossing back another packet of nerds into his mouth. You were to engrossed at the scene in front of you to notice Tony walk in, his face equally perplexed at yours. 
“What it God’s name” Tony stared at the chaos that was taking place with you in the middle, “Do I even want to ask?”
“They got into my stash of....snacks...” You smirked while Tony cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. 
“Snacks, y/n? Really?”
“...Spicy snacks”
“Who would’ve thought this would be their downfall” He mused beside you “Oh-I think clothes are coming off-oh fuck” Tony ducked while Steve's shirt flew above his head, eyes growing wide when a pair of jeans followed.
“It’s so hot!!” Steve huffed, star fishing on the cool tile floor, arms and legs splayed out to the sides. “Soooo hottttt, n’I’m sleepy now” He yawned, stretching out like a cat before closing his eyes, a sugar crash sneaking up on them.  
“Okay, someone call for this ones bromantic partner to figure this out” Tony covered his eyes while calling for Sam, hoping to get Steve into some clothes before hauling him back to his room. “Y/n, I’m assuming you got terminator covered?” 
“Yeah, I- Oh no” you were met with your boyfriends Henley, followed by his joggers, landing on your head, squealing when you found yourself hanging off his shoulder seconds later. 
“Buck, where are we going?!” He mumbled something while making his way to the elevator in just his boxer briefs. 
“S’nap time” he mumbled sleepily, trudging with you to the bedroom and plopping down on top of you, using your chest as a pillow. “wan cuddles” 
“Mhm, then you get cuddles, baby boy” you giggled, carding your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling from how ridiculously adorable he was. He let out a content sigh, softly snoring moments later. You bit you lip to keep your laughs down, hearing the commotion outside your room in the hallway. 
“Steve, you need to put on pants”
“Pants are for the WEAK”
“No-Steve NO!-don’t take off your-for fucks sake” 
“THIS IS AMERICAS ASS”
“That’s America’s cock and balls” 
“Please, for the love of God, go to your room” 
“I’M GOING TO MAKE A TIKTOK” 
“Steve no”
“Steve yes”
“STEVE” 
“What’s the live feature” 
*Sounds of Steve shrieking and then a thump with continued muffled pouting*
“You’re never eating spicy anything again” 
1K notes · View notes
visionsofmagic · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
day 15: steve rogers [face sitting]
࿓ synopsis • after caps shaves his beard a question pops into your mind – how it would feel to sit on his now clean face?
―❦ nsfw, licking, f!reader, cum, oral > f receiving, choking, pet names, begging, slapping, hair pulling, fingering, ordering, a bit daddy like steve, ‘is all! • 0.9k • CAN IMAGINE NOMAD!STEVE OR TWS!STEVE. we can agree that every version of steve rogers is breathtaking, so, I wanted to write something breathtaking as well, including him. so, enjoy! [kinktober m.]
Tumblr media
“you gotta be joking!” you said when you saw his face after he took a shower, went in with a beard, and came back with a clean face – shining in pure attractiveness, mesmerizing you enough that the words came out of you without your control, “I wonder how it will feel sit on your face.”
the next you know is that you are sitting on his face, the way you wanted it to be, as he lies down on the bed, hands gripping your ass, pushing your soaking pussy onto his face further, humming in response whenever he gets the chance to lick you, eat you, bite you – simply tasting you as if you’re the sweetest thing his tongue has ever tried.
“cmon princess,” he says, looking at you from below, eyes sparkling with the delight of seeing you in such a position – breasts bouncing, eyes blurry, mind dizzy, hands on his hair to pull and hold to stay still as you beg for more – close to the edge yet your face is full of heat, eyes avoiding to meet with his blue ones that give you weakness on the knees because of how beautiful he’s looking at you right now. 
he gets that you’re shy – can’t let you go, sit on his face completely and ride him as you get the pleasure your pussy seeks with the help of him and his warm tongue inside your folds. “don’t be shy,” he adds, smiling – ensuring you that it’s okay for you to put pressure on your weight, “sit on my face. you were the one who asked for it, weren’t you?” he teases, earning a low moan – both annoyed and excited tone can be heard.
“steve!”
he chuckles, kissing your inner thighs, looking at your face still in a way that can make you cum without even fucking his mouth. “okay, okay. no teasing. just sit on me doll, I can handle it.”
you know he can handle it! the captain has a strength that makes you a lightweight compared to it, yet, you don’t want to hurt him because you know how much you want to do it – how much you will break and use his mouth without thinking about anything else.
however, your indecision comes to an end when he spanks your ass, making your body jolt to the front, pussy travels on his clean face, earning a louder moan from you. eyes shut, you hold his hair tighter. his fingers join his tongue on your folds, then, slowly, ending your core, burning there. “sit on my face.” he orders, sounding hazardous, bringing his captain persona into the bed – the one you like to have whenever he fucks you good.
breaking into pieces, the last crumbles of dilemma disappear, leaving the lust behind.
looking at his eyes, you sit on his face entirely after saying, “y-yes, captain – ooh – cap!”
he wastes no time when he has you, tongue entering into you deeper, fingers join to it, both go in and out in sync, one after another, leaving you no time to adjust – to relax, no, he wants to make your legs shake, and he successes a few minutes after he continues doing the same thing – pussy is filled – is full with both his fingers and mouth, eyes on you, pride and enjoyment are visible on his face.
moaning his name in repeat, “steve – aggh – oh my! steve, ‘s so good, a – and, ohh, so much!” your hips move on their own, going forth and back on his face, nose touching your pussy too, making the pressure go higher – all the sense of your body appears on your lower part from the abdomen, making you go crazy as eyes roll back – the only thing you want is to cum – right into his open mouth and face, and it’s exactly what steve wants as well.
gripping you from the back of your inner thighs, he makes you sit onto his face further as if it’s possible, fingers leave your abused clit, only tongue remains – effective as ever, it sends pleasure to your body, licking it from the bottom to top, biting the flesh a little.
you – making a mess on him, don’t have no idea you’re coming until you reach the highness and slowly coming to your senses after he commands, “cum onto my face pretty, wanna taste it.”
legs get weaker each passing time because of the exhaustion hitting you, collapsing onto his chest, hands on his shoulders as you breathe deeply. his chest too – rising up and down, rapid breaths, shining lips, half of his face getting dirty with your cum. 
his hands hold you from the waist, raising your body up like its weight means nothing, then, putting you down on his lap after getting up, leaning on the headboard of the bed. pride’s marks on his smiling face as he hugs you from the back, pulling you closer to his chest.
he caresses your face and lets you clean his with the towel you brought before.
“so,” he says, playful tone in his voice, “how it felt?” 
shaking your head, you chuckle, “always such a teaser captain,” putting a kiss on his lips, you wink at him, “it was good.” a total lie – it was magnificent, yet, you decide to tease him, see if he will break and prove himself more – about how he can be the best, not just good. “is that so?” he asks, playing your little game – pushing your body onto your back, he hovers above you, a hand goes to unzip his pants as he looks at you – dominant. “then, let me do my best for my pretty greedy girl.”
Tumblr media
❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear @chloee0x0 *lots of kisses!*
558 notes · View notes
thyme-in-a-bubble · 12 days
Text
the pained peace treaty
fused with the foe, chapter one
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.
summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”
warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury
word count: 4813
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
series masterlist | next chapter
info about the world | maps | pinterest board | playlist
masterlist | join my taglist
Tumblr media
“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”
“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”
A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”
Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”
“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”
“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”
Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”
“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 
Tumblr media
Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 
Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 
As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 
You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 
A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 
“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 
Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”
Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”
“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”
When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”
“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”
“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”
“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”
“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”
You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”
Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”
Tumblr media
“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 
Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”
“Yes, your highness?”
“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”
“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”
As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 
Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 
Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 
Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 
“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.
“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 
“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”
“What did you expect?”
Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 
Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 
The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 
Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”
“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.
“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”
Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”
He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 
Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 
Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 
Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 
“Hey, Barnes?”
Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”
“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”
“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”
“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”
“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 
Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”
Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”
Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 
“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 
“Of course, your highness.” 
“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”
Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”
“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”
“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”
“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.
Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”
Tumblr media
With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 
A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 
You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 
The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 
The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 
Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 
“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 
Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 
And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.
Tumblr media
The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 
As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 
When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 
“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 
Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 
“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”
A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”
It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 
Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you. 
The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 
But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 
The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 
“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 
“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 
Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 
“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 
When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.
First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”
Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 
His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 
“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”
“Oh…” was all he breathed. 
“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”
“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 
“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”
“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 
A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”
Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”
Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 
Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?
Tumblr media
© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 
238 notes · View notes
krirebr · 25 days
Text
Welcome to Your Life
Tumblr media
Pairing: dark vampire!Steve Rogers x f!reader
Word Count: ~3.75k
Summary: During a drunken night out on vacation, you're brought to a strange club and presented to a mysterious man. Part of Everybody Wants to Rule the World
Warnings: Horror elements, dark elements, mind control, some blood and gore, feeding on humans, captivity, dub/con, SMUT - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Divider by @saradika
We're All Monsters
Masterlist
A/N: And here it is, the first part of Vampire Steve's solo story! If you missed his introduction, it was in I Can't Sleep Cause My Bed's On Fire. You don't need to read that before you read this, but some of the world-building (specifically how his club works) might be helpful. Plus, it's a vampire threesome, so 🥵🥵🥵
This is also the first part of the new, super-expanded supernatural universe that I'm doing with @paperweight91, playing off of what I started with my Psycho Killer AU. Big thanks to Chelsea for all her help on this and for just how much fun it's been to come up with ideas with her for this whole universe.
Now, where it might get slightly confusing, but I really hope it doesn't. This story introduces a new character, Cutter, who will eventually be a reader in one of Chelsea's stories in her werewolf half of this au. She is not physically described at all here, other than being a woman. I hope it gets you excited about what @paperweight91 has in store for her.
As always, any comments, reblogs, or asks are very appreciated. You know how much I love this Steve. Please come screech with me about him!!!
Tumblr media
You were shaking. That was the only thing you knew. You didn’t know where you were or what you were doing there. Not even how you’d gotten there, just that you were standing in the back room of some club, surrounded by people—were they people? Of course, they were. What else could they be?!—unable to move, and you couldn’t stop shaking.
You’d been on vacation with some friends in Berlin. You’d all decided to have a wild night out together but were quickly separated. While tipsily searching for them at a club, you’d bumped into a man, an American, who told you his name was Cole. And suddenly, looking for your friends didn’t seem as important. He’d told you he knew a great bar just a few blocks away. You didn’t really remember agreeing to go with him, but now you were here, in a room full of strangers who wouldn’t stop leering at you. No one had done anything or even said anything, but you knew in your bones that you were not safe. And yet, you couldn’t move.
Cole, especially, wouldn’t take his eyes off you, your neck in particular. You desperately wished for something to cover up your club attire. A woman was leaning against the wall in the corner, sharpening her ridiculously long nails with a knife. She looked up occasionally, and this time her gaze landed on Cole, a scowl on her face. “You know he gets first taste,” she said, before looking back down in disinterest.
“I know,” he said, his fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh.
“Everything has to get his approval before it goes on the menu,” she continued, still not looking up as she filed her nails to a terrifying point. 
“Yes,” Cole gritted out, “I know that, Cutter. I’m not fucking new.”
“Then stop acting like you’re jonesing for your next fix. You’re that fucking hungry? Go get yourself something to eat that actually is on the menu.” Nothing they were saying made any sense. 
He scowled at her, but started to leave the room, and then, suddenly, stopped. Everyone stopped. Cutter looked up, listening for something, then pushed herself off the wall and made her way over to you. She brushed one of her exceedingly sharp nails over your bottom lip. Looking you in the eye, she breathed, “Kneel, sweetheart.” And you were on your knees before you had any idea what had happened. She smiled at you and added, “Be quiet,” and you knew, in every cell, that you wouldn’t have been able to make any noise if you’d tried. 
One of the doors opened and a tall, broad, beautiful man came into the room and you felt the energy of everything change. It was like it was all, yourself included, suddenly charged with electricity. You’d never felt anything like it. He zeroed in on you instantly and made his way over. You felt the instinct to cower, but it was far away, almost like it was behind a wall. And you still couldn’t move anyway. All you could do was shiver.
The man looked at you carefully. “Pretty,” he said, absently. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip just like Cutter had. Then he gripped your chin and angled it up so you were forced to make eye contact. “Give me your wrist,” he said and you couldn’t explain the feeling that moved through your body, only that you reached your wrist up to him, you had to, and waited for him to take it. He took it in his firm grip and placed his thumb right over your pulse point. He pressed down hard and smiled when you still didn’t move, didn’t react. It was like you didn’t know how. And then, something happened, so quickly you couldn’t process it. Fangs descended into his mouth and he lowered his head to your wrist and bit down hard. It was some of the worst pain you’d ever felt, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t make a sound. It wasn’t until you felt the wetness on your cheeks that you even realized you were crying. It was like all the different parts of you were separated. 
He pulled his teeth from your wrist and then licked the wound clean. He grinned at you and said, “You have excellent taste in cocktails, honey.” Then he looked over at Cutter and his smile dropped. “She’s still drunk. You should have known better.”
Her mouth fell open, and then she flung her hand out at Cole who stood sheepishly on the other side of the room. “Cole’s the one who brought her in!”
He was in front of her in a blink, the arm that was still in the air now in his firm grasp. She grimaced. “And you know exactly how good his judgment is,” he growled.
“Steve,” she whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear her.
The man (could you even call him that? Deep down you knew what he was), Steve, brought his face as close to hers as possible. “When I put you in charge,” he said, so lowly, “I expect you to be in charge.”
She just stared at him for a moment meeting his gaze, then dropped her own and nodded. He smiled fondly, you were surprised to see, and kissed her on the cheek. “You know he needs supervision.”
He made his way back to where you were still kneeling, now cradling your arm. He bent down to you slightly and stroked a hand down your neck. “There’s something there, though,” he said, although you weren’t sure who he was talking to. Certainly not to you. “Underneath everything else. I’ll try her again tomorrow and see how she is when the blood’s pure.”
You gazed up at him, confused, and he gripped your chin in his hand. “You may speak,” he said.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” was all you could manage.
“Oh honey, of course, you don’t,” he said with a grin that frightened you. “The good news is that you’ll never need to understand anything ever again.” He looked back up at the room at large. “Set her up in a room upstairs.” He released your chin and made his way to the exit, pausing as he was almost out the door to call “Cole!” over his shoulder. The other man quickly followed him out of the room.
Cutter came to stand in front of you. She looked you in the eye and said, “Up,” and without thinking, you were on your feet. “Such a good girl,” she cooed. “Follow me,” and suddenly that was all you wanted to do.
The room she took you to was better described as a cell. There was a cot, a toilet, and a sink. No windows. Painted grey. It was tiny. Cutter left as soon as you were inside and you heard the door lock behind her. 
You sat down on the bed and closed your eyes. You felt the urge to panic but it was like your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your heart rate stayed steady, your breaths even. You were calm, even if that was the last thing you wanted to be. 
These people must have done something to you. People, right. You knew what they were. Every single one of them had stared at your neck. Steve had fangs and he’d literally drank your blood. You knew, even if an hour ago you would’ve sworn that was just fantasy. Vampires. You were being held captive by vampires. What the hell?
There was nothing to occupy your time in here except for your thoughts, so you curled up on the cot and tried to convince yourself that it was all a bizarre dream. Eventually, your exhaustion overtook you and you fell asleep. 
Tumblr media
You weren’t sure when exactly you woke up. You hadn’t seen a single window since Cole had brought you into the building last night. Because sunlight kills vampires, you thought to yourself, somewhat hysterically. Your memories of the night before were… weird. And not just because you swear someone drank your blood. They were patchy. And yes, you’d been drunk, but not that drunk. Not so drunk that you blacked out small portions of the night. And certainly not so drunk that you hallucinated vampires. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There was no way out of the cell. Nothing in it that would help you. All you could do was wait for whatever it was that was coming for you.
Sometime later, hours probably, a slit in the door you hadn’t noticed before was opened, and a tray was slid through. Food. You gathered it quickly and sat on the bed. There was a carton of water and a plate with a large salad that was mostly made up of spinach and lentils. Iron-rich food, your mind supplied. The previous night seemed more and more real.
.You thought about refusing the salad, but you were so hungry, so you ate it. It was surprisingly good, but not what you would have chosen for what would probably be your last meal. You lay back down when you were finished, curled up on your side, and daydreamed of something more satisfying than a spinach salad. 
More time passed. You stared at the walls and tried not to freak out. You wondered if your friends had made it back to the hotel. How long it took for them to realize you were missing. Were the police searching for you? Did your family know? You couldn’t help it when the tears started. You were pretty sure you were going to die here.
You dozed in and out for who knows how long. And then the door opened. Steve walked in with Cole behind him, carrying a chair. You jolted up and pressed yourself into the wall. “Stop,” Steve said, and everything did. “Calm down,” and you felt everything in your body slow. Suddenly, you couldn’t access whatever it was that you’d been so scared of. So you sat still and watched him. 
Cole handed Steve the chair and he placed it in front of your cot. He sat down and looked at you. His gaze made you feel so small. He reached out his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against your knee. A chill ran up your spine, not just fear, but an excitement too, that you couldn’t explain. “Give me your other wrist,” he said, lowly, and you immediately did. He took it in his hand and brought it up to his nose, forcing you to lean forward. He inhaled deeply. “Much better,” he said. “You’re all sobered up now, aren’t you?”
You didn’t respond. You knew, deep inside yourself, that he didn’t want you to. His fangs dropped and you braced yourself, something in the far recesses of your mind knowing that you should be scared. With a slight grin, he sank his teeth into your wrist. The pain was just as bad as the night before but soon, so much quicker than the last time, it was over and Steve was pulling away, his eyes still locked on you.
“Shit,” he breathed.
“What?” Cole asked, from his place by the door. “She’s that bad?”
“No,” Steve growled. “She tastes like sunshine.” He stood up and leaned over you, running the back of one finger across your cheek. “Precious thing.”
You looked up at him and blinked. “Please,” you said, “please, I want to go home.”
“No, honey,” he cooed, so gently, “you’ll never go home again.” As you tried to process that through the fog, he turned to Cole. “Put her in my private reserves. I’ll have her for dinner.” And then he was out of the room.
Cole looked at you, a pout on his face. “Goddamnit,” he grumbled, “I’ve been waiting for a taste.”
“You’re gonna bite me, too?” you asked, alarmed.
He sighed. “Not anymore. I’d rather not face the true death, thanks.” He looked you in the eye. “Come with me.” 
You felt something move through you at that. There was definitely a strong urge to obey that you wouldn’t resist, but it was nothing like what you felt with Steve, or even Cutter, where it was like your body was on strings. It wasn’t a huge weakness, but you were taking note of everything at this point. 
Cole took you through a long series of hallways that you couldn’t hope to keep track of. Cole talked the whole way, mostly inane bits about his frustrations with the pecking order in whatever vampire organization this was. You marveled for a moment at the fact that you were describing something to do with mythical monsters as inane. Finally, just as you arrived at a door not dissimilar to the one you’d just come out of, he concluded with “You’re a really good listener.”
You gaped at him. What did he think was happening here? He’d targeted you, done something to you to bring you here where you were trapped and probably going to die and he thought you cared that he didn’t feel respected enough by his fellow monsters???
But staying alive right now was your primary concern, so you just quietly said, “Thank you,” and let him show you into the room. 
It was much bigger than the cell, but still small, along the lines of a spacious walk-in closet. There was a plush rug under your feet, a deep rose color. A four-poster bed was to one side covered in a big, fluffy comforter that was in a lighter shade of dusty pink and piled with pillows to match. The far wall was entirely made of mahogany built-in bookcases that were completely full of books. There was a soft-looking armchair in the corner by the shelves. You turned back to Cole and asked, “What is this?”
“It’s your room,” he said with a smile. He looked you in the eye. “Now,” he said, and you felt his words travel through your body. He pointed at a door without breaking eye contact, “that’s your bathroom. You’re going to use it now to get very clean and smooth. There are lotions you’ll use after to make yourself soft. There are things in there,” he pointed to a beautiful armoire in the corner, “for you to change into when you’re done. Steve will be back in a few hours and you will be ready for him. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you said, your voice coming out of you without any conscious thought or effort, “I’ll be ready for Steve.”
“Good girl,” he said, and gently patted your cheek. He stood awkwardly, watching you, but now that the command was in you, you were focused on getting to the bathroom so you could get clean. He was in your way.
“I have to get ready for Steve,” you told him, your voice sounding oddly robotic to your own ears.
Cole blinked at you and then sighed. “Right,” he said, sounding almost forlorn. He stared at you again and then shook his head. “I’ll see you again soon,” he said, stroking one hand down your arm. And then he finally left.
Tumblr media
It was the most luxurious shower of your life. 
When you came out of the bathroom, clean, smooth, and more moisturized than you’d ever been, you opened the armoire to find a small collection of slips in different sizes hanging in it. You found the one that would fit you best and put it on. It was black, a combination of silk and lace. It felt expensive against your skin. You searched the drawers, and next to a collection of silk briefs, you found a pair of black lace panties that would work for you. 
Once you were dressed (or as dressed as you were going to be with what was available), you moved to the bookshelves. They were chock full of every genre and category you could think of. Vaunted classics next to dime store romances. Shakespeare collections and airport schlock. You ran your fingers across the spines, when, suddenly, from behind you– 
“If there’s something you particularly enjoy, let me know and I’ll have someone get it for you.” 
You spun around to find Steve just inches from you. You hadn’t heard a noise when he’d come in. There was a coldness emanating from him that made goosebumps rise along your flesh. Your breath caught and he grinned. You inhaled and asked, “You aren’t going to kill me?”
He laughed. “Oh no, Sunshine. You’re too delicious. I’m going to be feeding from you for a long, long time.”
You tried to back up, but the wall of bookcases blocked you. You pressed yourself into it anyway. He opened his mouth and you hurried to say “Please don’t make me calm down!”
His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. “Explain,” he commanded and you were obeying before you even registered the word.
“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I feel it when you tell me to do things. And I– I don’t know. I don’t know.” You wanted to obey, every part of you was trying, but you had no vocabulary for any of what this was. So you were left chanting, “I don’t know,” over and over. 
“Stop,” he said, and of course, everything did. “You can feel it?” he asked. “The compulsion? You actually feel it move through your body?”
The word was new to you, but you knew what he meant. You nodded and he hummed. “Oh, you are very interesting, aren’t you, pet?” 
You didn’t say anything to that, just watched him warily. He gave you a sharklike grin that sent chills down your spine and said “Now, calm down.”
And just like before, you felt everything inside you slow. Your body sagged a bit against the shelves, no longer trying to push your way through them.
“There,” he said, cupping your face in his large hand. “Isn’t that better, little pet?”
He guided you to the armchair and sat down in it, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel the supernatural strength in his thighs as you settled on top of him, sidesaddle, as he took all of your weight without any reaction at all. He scratched his thumbnail down your jugular and you closed your eyes. “It hurts,” you said, your tone surprisingly flat for how afraid of all this you’d been just a moment before.
“Hmm?” he questioned, as he nuzzled his nose along your throat.
“When you bite me,” you said, still so calm, “it hurts so much.”
“Oh, is that all?” he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, I’ll make it feel just as good for you as it will for me.”
With that, he moved one of his hands in between your legs, slowly sliding it up your thigh. His face was fully in the crook of your neck when he mumbled “Feel this,” and you felt the command vibrate through your whole body. The calmness that had flattened you faded away and you let out a little whine when his hand reached your mound. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his fingers between your folds. You gasped as he quickly found your clit, tracing slow lazy circles around it. You tried to grind down onto his hand and you felt him huff a laugh into your neck. His tongue darted out, licking a wide stripe all along your vein. You let out another whine, so desperate this time. 
He chuckled again. “I was going to make you get wet for me,” he said, as his fingers began to prod at your hole gently, his thumb still working at your clit, “but I don’t need to, do I? Or at least, not with my voice.” He was right, you were already soaking, and there was no resistance as he slipped one finger inside of you. You squirmed against his hand and he added another finger. 
His mouth was still on your neck, lapping and nipping at your jugular, but he hadn’t sunk his teeth in yet. He scissored his fingers for a moment, stretching you so good that you cried out before he added a third. They stroked inside your walls, looking for your spot. He found it and you threw your head back. 
“Come on,” he growled, “give me what I need.” He curled his fingers, scraping against that place inside you just right. You screamed as you were thrown over the edge of your orgasm and that’s the moment he finally sunk his fangs into your neck. You felt it, you did. The pain was just as intense as before but mingled with some of the strongest pleasure you’d ever felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your body spasmed around his fingers as he loudly sucked from your neck. You swore that you could feel the blood rushing to both places. You babbled as you coasted along the waves of your orgasm, feeling like it would never end. Even as the aftershocks quieted and slowed down, his mouth was still latched to your neck, taking what he needed from you. Your body was fully collapsed into his now. Everything offered up for the taking. 
Finally, his teeth left you and he gently licked the blood from your skin. He slowly removed his fingers from you and you whined at the emptiness. He brought them up to your lips. “Clean up your mess,” he commanded and your mouth dropped open without thinking. He slid his fingers in and you swirled your tongue around them. You tasted yourself, sweet and musky, as you sucked him clean. He pulled them out with a soft pop and wiped them on the bodice of your slip. 
You looked at his face. He still had your blood on his lips. You felt the odd urge to kiss him but didn’t have the chance as he pushed you off his lap. Your knees buckled, too weak to stand. He laughed gently, like you might at a cute animal that was struggling, as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. He laid you down and tucked you in. “Rest up, Sunshine,” he cooed, and your body did as it was told, quickly sinking into sleep. “I’ll be back for more soon.”
Tumblr media
Tag list is open
@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @femefetalelevelingup
259 notes · View notes
Text
Need someone older | Steve Rogers
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> DBF!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> Your dad’s best friend, Steve Rogers, has a kind that makes your body reacts in a needy way whenever he is around you. So when your dad is taking a shower he shows you that he can help your arching feeling better as the boys you know from university.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 2.019
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI, smut, dry humping, praises, dirty talk, age gap
Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist
Divider made by @firefly-graphics.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Hey, babygirl,” a rough, familiar voice says behind you, and the man behind you smirks when you hum in response.
You turn around to face the blond, tall man behind you. Your dad’s best friend - Steve Rogers. He is as tall as your dad, muscular, and has short blond hair. His beard is trimmed, and for a moment, you get lost in your thoughts. You love that look, especially because it defines his ocean blue eyes and gives you a lot of thoughts that aren’t as innocent as you look like. You always have a thing for older men, and for Steve even more; his stubble would probably feel so good between your legs while his long, thick fingers slide in and out of you. You try not to moan when you just think about the filthy things he could do to you. You’re pretty small compared to him, and it makes your knees weak. Your pussy starts dripping whenever you’re close to him. And the way your lips are parting so slightly that no one sees it, your eyes so filled with lust, but you just smile and nod softly. Steve chuckles, like he always does when he sees the reaction he has on you, the way you act when he is around you, pressing your legs together, digging your nails in the hem of your shirt, or the surface of the kitchen counter. He sees the way your eyes roam over his muscular body - little do you know he wears shirts that fit like a second skin. Steve enjoys the way your lips are parted, knowing that you think no one sees the way you stare at him, almost drooling over the older man.
“Like what you see?” He tears, walking a step closer, so you have to look up to look into his face and his beautiful blue eyes. “Answer me. Tell me, do you like what you see? Don’t be shy.”
Your eyes widen slightly, and you whimper. His smile grows when he has the reaction he wants to have. You make him go crazy, and he doesn’t need to do much more than stand there. Steve loves to see how small you look, the way you don’t manage to get a word out when he looks into your eyes, the way you clench your thighs and whimper - for relief, wanting him to help you get rid of the aching feeling between your legs. His hand glides to your waist, and he pulls you closer. Your chin almost touches his broad chest, which causes a gasp to leave your lips. His fingers digging into the soft skin of yours, a shiver running along your spine, and you grip the kitchen counter behind you tighter, trying to ground yourself.
“Rogers. Do you annoy her again?” Your dad shouts from behind, and Steve grins.
“Do I, princess?” He asks loudly enough for Bucky to hear him.
You shake your head, but Steve lets go of you to smile softly and walk to Bucky. He smirks at him before they walk out of the kitchen and into the garden. Your breath hitches, your hands are shaking, and your knees are weak. Your nails are digging into the surface of the counter behind you, helping you not to fall down. This man can do things you didn’t know he could do; your panties are soaked with your arousal, and he hasn’t even touched you in a way that could explain your throbbing pussy.
“Dinner is ready in half an hour,” Bucky tells you, and when you reply with a short one, he continues his conversation with Steve.
You made your way to the living room, letting yourself slip on the couch while you watched television. Bucky and Steve are still in the garden, taking about everything and nothing. Your legs are pressed together, and while your head rests against the backrest, your mind is going wild with thoughts about what your dad’s best friend could do with you - with his tongue, with his fingers, or with his dick. You have never thought about it, but you’re sure he is huge. And Steve is experienced in bed, so he will probably do a good job when he fucks a woman, making her scream his name while she comes over his dick over and over again. Just the thought makes you wetter as you already are, and you press your thighs further together, trying to get some friction at your arching pussy. How would it feel when Steve just had a taste of you? When his stubble brushes so softly against your thigh and your pussy or when his thick fingers disappear between your wet, tight walls. He would be more talented than the guys your age, but he is your dad’s best friend and almost double your age. You’re probably not even his type of woman. Maybe you should just date some guys your age, but they are not like Steve - not so nice and handsome.
“Buck is taking a shower, then we can eat,” Steve suddenly says and stands next to you.
“O-Oke,” you mumble, and for a moment you get lost in his beautiful blue eyes.
“You haven’t answered my question earlier. So did you like what you saw?”
You smile softly; it’s more than just that you like to see him standing in front of you; you imagine filthy things he could do to you.
“Yes, I-I like what I see when you’re standing in front of me.”
Your cheeks heat up, and you turn your head away. Steve chuckles, adoring the way you try to hide the red on your cheeks, trying to hide that you’re throbbing wet because of him. He lets himself fall down next to you on the couch, his arm resting on the backrest behind you. You feel warmth rushing through the part between your legs, causing you to press your thighs together.
“I like what I see when I’m standing in front of you too, babydoll.”
The gasp that leaves your lips makes the older man chuckle. His grin playfully, and his eyes were glistening with lust. Steve’s hand slides up and down his thigh, inching closer to his dick, and you follow his hand with your eyes before you let your gaze roam over his body, looking at his hand, which is now covering the growing bulge in his pants. Your breath hitches when you see his dick pressing his pants up. You’re adorable when you look at him like that. You can’t keep your eyes off of his bulge while he slides his hand slowly over it.
“I- Are you-?”
“Hard because of you? Yes, wanna give me a helping hand?” He asks, smirking.
“D- You- Stevie-“ you stutter, your eyes widening while you look at him.
Your eyes meet, and you almost don’t recognize him leaning closer. Only when his hands find your hips and his fingers trail slowly under the fabric of your shirt. His touch feels like electricity, and you gasp once again. Steve lifts you up like you weigh nothing and places you on his lap, his bulge pressing against your core. You moan softly when you move a bit, feeling the friction between your legs and his bulge growing underneath you.
“B-But dad can hear us,” you say quietly, placing your hands on his shoulders to push you up.
Steve holds you firmly on his lap, pushing you back down on his covered dick when you try to push yourself off of him. He moves your hips slowly over his bulge. You whimper and close your eyes for a moment while he groans. The older man pushes his hips upward, pushing his dick more against you. The movements make you moan and whimper softly. You then let your head fall forward and against his shoulder. Steve smirks. He loves the way you let him touch you like that, the way your body reacts to his touches, and he loves to see you all desperate for his dick, grinding against his bulge.
“He won’t unless you’re loud. But he wanted to take a shower so he wouldn’t hear or see us,” Steve says, looking into your eyes when you push yourself up.
Your lips are just inches away from one another, and his tongue glides over his bottom lip, his glistening saliva coating the soft, plump lips, and your eyes switch from his eyes to his lips back to his eyes. Then he leans closer and captures your lips with his. He moves your hips harshly over his hard dick. You moan into the kiss and slide your hands into his hair, tugging at them. You would like to feel him inside of you; he feels huge, and it makes your cunt drip more, causing arousal to soak your panties.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me. So hungry and desperate for my dick. You want a man, don’t you? Someone who takes care of you and knows how to treat you right, to make you feel good,” he mumbles against your lips, and you moan in response.
Steve smirks and kisses your jawline and along your neck. His fingers are digging into your skin, while you feel the feeling of pleasure growing in your stomach. Your whimpering turns more and more into moaning. You tug harsher at his hair, and Steve knows that your orgasm is just as close as he is.
“Feeling good, princess? Feeling like a princess on daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna feel it inside of you?” He asks, and you can’t help but throw your head back, grinding harder against him.
He knows exactly what to say and what to do to make a woman go crazy, to make her even more desperate, and to make her feel good. Steve stops your movements, and you immediately look at him, confused about why he stopped you.
“Please- so, so close,” you whimper, pouting softly.
“Answer my question. Do you feel like a princess on daddy’s cock?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Wanna feel daddy’s huge dick inside of your little pussy? Is she already begging for attention?”
“Y-Yes, begging for daddy’s attention,” you mumble, trying to grind against him.
He laughs softly before he lets you grind over his bulge. You’re a moaning mess on top of him, bringing both of you closer to the edge. He enjoys the view of you humping him like a desperate slut, and that’s what you are right now. You would agree with him; should he ask you, you would tell him you’re his little desperate slut.
“Please, c-can I come?” you ask, pressing your lips against Steve’s.
“Come for me; soak your panties, pretty girl. Make daddy come in his pants,” he groans, pressing you further down on his covered dick.
You move a few more times over his bulge before the two of you come into your pants, breathing heavily, and Steve kisses you once more to make you shut up while he helps you to move, riding out your orgasm.
“You’re so good for me; daddy’s proud of you, princess.”
Just in time, you two catch your breath, and you’re sitting next to him, talking about the university, when your dad appears with a towel around his waist. His hair is wet, and the water is still flowing down his body.
“Take on some clothes; your daughter doesn’t need to see you naked, Buck," Steve laughs and earns a groan from Bucky.
You’re still calming down from your orgasm; imagine Steve walking with just a towel, wet hair, and his body glistening through the apartment.
“How about I take care of you when Bucky is on his work drip?” Steve asks quietly, and you smile softly before you nod, leaning in for a short kiss before he gets up and walks outside to finally eat.
You follow him. Steve would prefer something else instead of the barbecue he and your dad just made, but he still enjoys it. Especially when he sees your still-red cheeks with the knowledge that your pants are soaked with your cum.
┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓
𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨
𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.
┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛
Tumblr media
Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber
376 notes · View notes
j-buchanan · 19 days
Text
Welcome Home Captain
Tumblr media
***not my gif***
Pairings: Steve Rogers x f!reader (she/her)
Summary: Steve comes home from a mission that didn't go his way. Good thing his best girl understands exactly what he needs now.
Warnings: MDNI. 18+ ONLY. MINORS GO AWAY YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE. Very much AU. porn with very little plot. Like this is just straight smut. No real mentions of reader other then she has hair long enough for Steve to grab and he is bigger than her (homie is a super soldier who's bigger than everyone so it should still work for all body types). I don't know where this came from but Steve was on my mind and this is what came from it. Smut: piv, spanking, spitting, dirty talk (steve has a mouth on him), mostly dom!steve but they both read as switch, manhandling, Captain kink, breeding kink if you squint, unsafe/unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it irl please). Also I wrote this at like midnight and it's unedited.
"Hi pretty girl."
My whole body lit up at the sound of Steve's voice behind me. I could practically feel my eyes lighting up at the sight of him as I turned around. Tony's party was in full swing around us but my focus was only on him.
"Hi."
He looked good given the circumstances. Steve, Bucky, and Yelena had just returned from a mission in Bulgaria. Despite it supposedly being just a recon mission, it didn't surprise me much to see the healing marks of a black eye and cut decorating Steve's pretty face.
I lifted a finger to trace the bridge of his nose, "You said you wouldn't come home with bruises this time."
His big hands fell to my waist, a grimace on his face as he closed the distance between us. I traced my hands over his broad shoulders. Part of me admired the way he looked in his button up, while the other part of me just wanted to take it off of him.
"Well," Steve moved one hand up to my hair, "good thing I've got you to kiss them all better."
I giggled at the feeling of the tip of his nose dragging along my neck, my breath catching as he nipped at my pulse point. If anyone looked they would see nothing more than two lovers embracing. Nobody would be any wiser to Captain America's hand slipping over my silk dress to paw at my ass.
"I missed you Stevie."
Steve pulled his face out of my neck long enough to let me catch a glimpse of his darkened eyes. They held a sharpness to them that he got sometimes. Something dark, something angry, brewing just beneath the surface. A hidden depravity that the worlds' golden boy wasn't allowed to display.
"I missed you more baby. So much." Steve barely finished his sentence before his lips were on mine.
Since the very first time he kissed me outside that diner in Brooklyn, Steve had been able to steal my breath away. It was no different now as his tongue traced mine and the lack of oxygen made me dizzy. Steve broke the kiss, placing three more chaste kisses to my lips before pulling away.
"Why don't we go upstairs huh? Get away from the crowd?"
Steve's proposition was interrupted by Bucky smacking him upside the head and Sam wolf whistling at us.
"Quit accosting your girlfriend in public punk." Bucky scanned the room while sipping a tumbler of something dark that would have no affect on him.
Steve simply tucked me against his chest and scowled at his best friends, "I've saved the world how many times now? I think I'm allowed to love on my best girl."
"Come on Buck you heard the man." Sam cut in, "He's about to seal the deal and you're not helping."
"I don't know." I teased, "The dark, brooding, quiet thing is kinda hot."
Bucky smirked, smile splitting into a grin fitting his White Wolf moniker at the sound of Steve's hand making sharp contact with my ass - a promise for what was to come. Sam looked down, at least attempting to hide his laugh from me.
"Easy." Steve warned all of us.
I brushed my lips over the sharp edge of his jaw, "Sorry honey, no more teasing."
Steve's dark eyes met mine again, "I don't know I think the teasing is just starting."
Bucky and Sam both gagged, quickly dispersing into the crowd as Steve's lips met mine again. Kissing me through a grin that he couldn't wipe off his face.
"Bedroom?"
"Bedroom."
Nobody would ever believe the mouth Steven Grant Rogers had on him. Not unless they had heard it themselves and I thank the stars that I got to witness it now.
"Fuck baby, you're so good to me. Missed you so much."
Having Captain America whimpering on his back also felt pretty damn powerful.
Gratefully, Steve had kept his room in the tower for nights like this when we didn't have time or were too drunk to make it back to one of our apartments. Steve was propped up on the pillows, clothes scattered across the room. His chest was already heaving and all I had done so far was lick and suck down his hairy chest and tops of his thighs.
Kneeling between his beefy legs I leaned down to admire what lay between them. I had already stripped off my dress, leaving me in nothing but a lacy, lavender thong and my high heels. Steve's thick cock bounced against his abs as I pressed light kisses around the base of his length.
"Please baby, please don't tease. Been too long without your sweet mouth."
"I don't know honey," I ran the tip of my tongue along the pulsing vein on the side of his cock, "thought you said we just started with the teasing."
Steve's guttural groan filled the room when I wrapped my fingers around him. It didn't matter how many times we did this, I was constantly impressed and intimidated at just how big Steve is. It took both hands to wrap all the way around him and both of them stacked couldn't reach the tip. Which was perfect, because it allowed me to take the velvety tip into my mouth and suck hard enough Steve's back came off the bed.
"Fuck fuck fuck! Holy shit sweetheart, gotta warn a man first."
Almost without meaning to Steve's hips started bucking up into my mouth, using my hands and mouth to get off. I could see the shift in his eyes, going from my sweet Stevie to the Captain in a split second. His fingers wove into the hair around my ears, tightening with each thrust until he was the one controlling every movement.
He wasn't whimpering or begging anymore. He was taking. And I was willingly giving.
Steve's tip was bullying the back of my throat and I did my best to breathe through it, not wanting to take this away from him. Spit was pooling in the thatch of curls underneath my mouth as every hit of his cock caused me to gurgle around him. His next thrust was softer but he made up for it by pushing as far as he could into my throat and holding me there. His thumbs brushed soothingly around the shell of my ears as he pulsed in my mouth.
"There you go baby. Taking me so well. Been too long since I've had you. Do you think your pussy remembers me? Think she's gonna let me in?"
My eyes rolled at the filth coming out of his mouth. The oxygen deprivation was making me dizzy in the best way possible and just as it was reaching too much, Steve yanked me off of him and sat up. One of his hands stayed gripping my hair while the other came to grip my face, my lips puckering at the action.
Leaning in Steve pressed a kiss to my squished lips, letting go just enough to let me reciprocate the kiss. The taste of him was still on my tongue and I moaned as he sucked on it. Reaching down Steve grinned against me at the squeal I let out as he pinched my pebbled nipples on his path to my underwear. His grin grew and he chuckled as his fingers slipped in to find my pussy dripping for him.
"Yeah," he drawled, "she can take me."
It took him no time at all to find my clit and start circling it.
"Oh my god!"
"Not god, just Steve." He licked up the side of my neck and ran his fingers through my slit. "Come here."
His hands gripped my thighs, my eyes drinking in the sight of his biceps flexing as he lifted me up and over his face. A pair of stormy blue eyes looked up at me while he gave me a minute to find my balance. Steve tipped his head to the left, never looking away from my eyes, and kissed the inside of my thigh.
"My good, pretty girl. Gonna let me get my fill before I stuff you full of my cum?"
"Mmhmm. Please Stevie!" I could feel myself clenching around nothing as his beard scrapped deliciously against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
His hands came up and gripped my ass cheeks, pulling them apart before letting go to smack them both sharply and causing me to gasp.
"Nuh-uh baby. You know how to ask for it."
His nose dragged up from my slit to nuzzle my clit, my body jerking at the sensation, "Words baby."
I wanted to, I really wanted to listen to him. But holy shit I couldn't breathe because Steve had started licking the outside of my lips and my brain was still fuzzy.
"Need some help? Alright." His smug face vanished completely between my thighs as he attached his lips to my clit and sucked.
"Captain!" My hands flew into his shaggy hair and my legs started shaking.
I felt him smile against me and mumbled, "Good girl, there ya go."
My response was rewarded when his efforts doubled and he started licking and sucking his way up and down my pussy. The combination of his soft tongue and scratchy beard had the coil tightening in my stomach. Gasping and grinding against his face I couldn't help but beg for him. In turn Steve was moaning into me while eating my pussy like a man starved.
"Been too long since I tasted you sweet girl. Might just stay here forever."
I laughed breathlessly, "It's been - fuck - been a week honey."
"Too fucking long." His answer was entirely serious.
I wanted to laugh but my breath was stolen from me once again as two of his thick fingers were suddenly pushing inside of me while he kept sucking on my clit. Crooking his fingers Steve was quick to find that spongy spot inside of me that had me seeing stars.
"Yesyesyesyesyes! Steve! Right there, please don't stop."
Steve growled against me and sped up, desperate to get me to that point of no return. He added another finger, stretching me out even further. The hand that wasn't currently pounding in and out of me reached up and started brushing my nipples again. The added stimulation caused the coil to snap. I gushed over Steve's mouth, soaking his beard. He didn't stop even after I came and I had to push his head away.
Steve moved me off of him, laying me down next to him and kneeling over me. He brought the three fingers he'd previously had buried inside me to my lips. I didn't hesitate to suck on them, moaning around them. Pulling away he used his wet fingers to coat his length. I almost came again at the sight of him spitting onto the already wet mess.
"You ready for me baby?"
I nodded frantically, "Yes! Please Captain, been so empty without you."
Steve groaned, rubbing the head of his dick over my sensitive clit before moving it down to dip just the tip inside. He repeated this over and over again until I was in tears and begging for him to fill me up.
"I've got you."
Steve pulled my legs up so that my heeled feet rested on his shoulders and then leaned down, folding me up and covering me with his huge frame. His cock rested between us, precum leaking from his tip and smearing across the soft pudge of my belly. Leaning down, Steve caught my lips in a wet languid kiss while rutting against me.
When he had me grinding up into him and unable to form a coherent sentence, Steve finally pulled back just enough to notch his tip into my entrance. My mouth opened in a silent scream as he slowly pushed in, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside me. He was right, it had only been a week since he had been gone, but with how thick Steve was even that time apart made for a delicious stretch.
Steve pressed his forehead to mine and grunted, "Fuck baby, pussy's squeezing me so tight. You're fucking dripping around me, sloppy cunt is begging for me to ruin her."
I felt like I was dying. The only thought in my head was that I needed him to start moving before I actually explode. Desperate for him, I scratched my nails down his broad shoulders until I could sink my nails into the plump of his ass. Clawing at him to start moving, to stop teasing.
"Please Stevie - Captain- please! Move, move, move." I could feel his cock twitching inside me and my walls fluttering in response.
Steve shushed me, cooing as he brought his hands up to brace at the top of my head, "I know baby, I know."
The first drag of his cock and I was ready to shatter again. Steve pulled out until just the tip remained before slamming back in hard enough that my body was pushed up the bed. Over and over again Steve fucked into me. Growling, grunting, and kissing any inch of my skin that he could reach without stopping, Steve had lost himself in the feeling of our combined pleasure.
"Come for me pretty girl. Need to feel you."
His goal was to take me apart and put me back together. His need for control translated to every aspect of his life. Sex was no different. He gave so much to everyone in his life that this was the one chance he had to let go. Not that I was complaining - I got nothing but pleasure from his eagerness and desperation to be the one who made me feel this way.
Steve slipped his thumb past my gaping lips, using my tongue to wet the pad before bringing it to my clit to bring me to the edge. It only took a couple more minutes for that feeling to reach its peak. My arms and legs tightened like a vice around Steve as I fell apart around him.
"There you go, good girl." He was still hard inside me but had slowed his thrusts down to a slow drag for the moment, "You got more for me? Gonna give me another one?"
I nodded, pouting my lips to beg him for another kiss. Steve obliged. The kiss started slow as he let me come down from my high for a moment. It didn't take long for him to become frantic again, snapping his hips into mine to draw another gasp from me.
"Turn over." Steve pulled out and helped me take off my heels before rolling me over onto my stomach.
Laying flat on my stomach I push my ass up just enough to get his attention.
"What is it baby? What do you want?" Steve asked.
"You. Just you."
Steve moved my hair away from my neck, leaning down to suck a bruise into the skin there. His hands ran from my shoulders all the way down over my thighs. He laid himself across me, wrapping his muscled forearm under my neck and winding the other underneath my body to reach my pussy again. While his small ministrations on my cunt had me distracted, Steve took the opportunity to slip in from behind.
He felt so much deeper from this angle, knocking the breath from my lungs and setting a brutal pace. His arm around my neck kept me right where he wanted and his teeth scrapped the shell of my ear. Once particular thrust had him reaching that spot inside me, pulling a scream from my lips and encouraging Steve to keep hitting that same spot.
"That's it baby, that's my good girl. You're gonna take what I give you aren't you? Let me fill you up with my cum, make sure you're stuffed full every day so you're dripping for me even when I'm gone."
"Yesyesyes." I drooled, tilting my head just a bit further to such and bite at the fingers at my shoulders, "I want it so bad, please Steve!"
"Fuck! M'cumming baby!"
The feeling of Steve's cock twitching inside me, painting my walls with his warm cum, triggered my own orgasim. Moaning and arching up into him to chase the feeling, Steve kept fucking me through it until we were both spent. He stayed inside me even as he started to soften, placing soft kisses to my neck and shoulders and whispering sweet nothings into my ear.
Eventually he did pull out, using his thick fingers to push his leaking cum back into my swollen pussy.
"Did so good for me sweetheart, thank you baby."
Rolling over I pulled him down into another sweet kiss. Steve lay there with me for a minute before carrying me into the en suite to get us both cleaned up and dressing me in one of his t-shirts. We made our way back to the bed and Steve pulled me into his lap where he kept me tucked close to him.
"You feeling okay baby?" He asked.
I hummed in affirmation, "I'm good Stevie. Are you okay?"
"What do you mean? I feel fan-fucking-tastic."
I rolled my eyes at his boyish grin, "I'm sure you do Cap. I meant with the mission, you seemed on edge when you got home."
Steve sighed, his fingers slowly dragging up and down my arms, "I'm good, really. Mission just didn't go the way I wanted it to. We got it done but we all took quite a hit in the process."
"You know I'm here for you right? For whatever you need. You can tell me anything."
Steve smiled softly at me, nuzzling his nose against mine, "I know sweet girl. I love you, so much."
"I love you."
Steve kissed me again, arms tightening around me as he poured his love into this one kiss. He pulled away with playful nip at my bottom lip.
"Whatever I need? Is that right baby?"
His hand brought my leg over his lap, allowing me to feel his cock already twitching again. I giggled at the implication of his words and ground myself over him, drawing a groan from Steve's pretty lips.
"Anything you want. I'm yours Captain."
It was safe to say we were in for a long night.
221 notes · View notes
lunarbuck · 6 months
Text
Kinktober Week 1: Phone Sex
Tumblr media
header: @jen-with-a-pen
Pairing: Sam Wilson x f!reader (any race)
Word Count: 692
Prompt: Phone Sex
Warnings: phone sex, swearing, masturbation, pet names [baby, sweetheart]
my masterlist | kinktober masterlist | @lunarbucklibrary
Tumblr media
Your phone rings, and you look around on the bed for the offending device. You try to have at least two hours of screen-free time a day, and today, you’ve spent that time reading. Your book rests against your chest as you see Sam’s photo flash on your screen. 
“Hello,” you grin. When Sam is off on a mission, he rarely has time to call, so you relish each opportunity to hear his voice.
“Hey, cutie, what’re you up to?” You can hear the roar of an engine in the background. He probably just got off the jet. Heat blooms in your chest, knowing that his first thought was to call you.
“Trying and failing to curb my screen addiction, what about you?” Sam laughs, the sound warm despite some distortion from the speaker. 
“Just thinkin’ about my girl.” You don’t miss the slight rasp in his voice, the way he practically growls the words. That heat in your chest migrates, warming you all the way to your belly. You press your thighs together, giving your clit the slightest bit of friction.
“Yeah? What about me?” Through the phone, you can hear Sam’s footsteps pick up speed before a door slams shut. His breaths come out ragged and rushed. He’s just as worked up as you are. Your book slides off your chest, falling shut, but you barely even notice.
“Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” A smile tugs at your lips while you trail your fingers down your body underneath the blanket. “I’m thinking about your perfect body, your soft skin. The way you fit so perfectly against me.” You trace the band of your sleep shorts, gently teasing yourself the way Sam always does. It’s not quite the same, but with the rasp of his voice in your ear, you can almost imagine that he’s here.
“I wish you were here,” you whisper, dipping your fingers into your shorts to slide over the fabric of your panties. 
“Me too, baby. I’m so fucking hard right now. I love the way you suck my cock. Love how you look with my dick in your mouth, so fucking beautiful.” You hear the snick of a zipper on the other end and shuffle your shorts down your legs. “Are you gonna touch yourself, baby? You gonna make yourself feel good until I get home?”
You whimper in response, circling your clit with your finger.
“Such a good girl for me, sweetie. If I were there, you know I’d be in between your legs, eating that perfect pussy of yours. I’d slide my fingers inside and warm you up for my cock just the way you like.” Your fingers follow your imagination, pressing inside your warm entrance. They’re not as big as Sam’s, but you still moan when you hit those spots.
“You sound so beautiful, baby. Keep fucking yourself on your fingers, just like that. I’m aching for you, sweetheart.” Your fingers are slick as they slide in and out of your pussy, but you want more. You manage to hit the speaker button and position your phone on your pillow to free up your other hand. You circle your clit while you fuck yourself, the sensations slowly working you toward your orgasm.
“Sam, I need you,” you moan, wishing it was his cock filling you, stretching you. You wish he was here, pressing you down into the mattress with his big, calloused hands. You wish you were grabbing onto his muscular shoulders, hanging onto him for dear life.
“I need you too, baby. I need you to come for me, please, baby. Need to hear you come.” You apply more pressure to your clit, imagining it’s Sam, and you screw your eyes shut. His cologne lingers on the pillow, and you inhale deeply as your orgasm barrels toward you.
You come moaning his name, electricity shooting through your body. Sam follows close behind, rasping your name as he comes. You suck in deep breaths and go limp against the mattress. 
“Shit,” you giggle, smiling to yourself. “Somehow, I miss you even more now.”
“I’ll be home soon, baby. Promise.”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i am discontinuing my taglist. please follow @lunarbucklibrary and turn on notifications to be notified when i post new writing. must be 18+
129 notes · View notes
darsynia · 1 year
Text
Hands Off | Ch 3: Alchemy
(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
gif by @fandomsunited (not sure why that didn't persist in my final edit but I posted this late last night sorry about that)
STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT
Summary: Steve’s loved hearing about you from Bucky. He doesn’t want anything to derail the progress his best friend has made toward being a whole person again, which is why he’s going to use every ounce of his slowly-deteriorating willpower to resist touching you, tasting you, taking you. After all, he’s just met you, and his own integrity, not to mention Bucky’s trust, is important to him.
Neither of you are prepared for the catch.
Length | Warnings: 2,772 | Sex
Fill: Adoptable ‘Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo
Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan
Tumblr media
Alchemy
Electricity. The second your leg touches Steve’s hand, you feel a jolt of searing need that flashes across every inch of your exposed skin. The tiny amount of self-discipline you’d been clinging to has completely evaporated.
You’d already been reaching for him when Steve had started sliding his heated hand up your leg, leaving eddies of anticipation in its wake. The way you beg out his name sounds overeager even to your own ears.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, the words rough and reluctant.
“Absolutely not.” You curl your fingers around his wrist and pull his fisted hand up to kiss his knuckles. Even your lips feel swollen and sensitive, something that’s enhanced when Steve’s hand flexes after your kiss to press his thumb against them.
Both of you make noises in the dark at that.
“I shouldn’t listen to you,” Steve whispers hoarsely, snatching his hand away.
You feel desperate and empty. “It feels like I’ll die if you don’t touch me,” you plead. “I thought you were a hero, Steve Rogers!”
There’s a loud sound behind your head that can only be Steve slamming his hand flat on the headboard, and then his lips are sucking a groaning kiss onto your shoulder as one hand drags away your loosened bra. His frantic need touches up a sharp stab of fear that’s oddly erotic, but it’s the way his knee presses up between your legs to spread them that undoes you. You grab a handful of his shirt to anchor yourself right as he tears your flimsy lace panties off.
“I can’t see y-- I need you to--” he blurts out haltingly, hand gripping your hip so hard it’s definitely going to bruise. You want it to.
“What is it?”
Steve quests for you in the dark, forearm grazing your nipple deliciously on his way to taking your hand and placing it on his bicep. “I need to hear or feel that you’re with me, or I’ll never--”
As soon as he says the word ‘feel,’ you reach for him, pulling at his tank top, stroking his hip with your leg, tugging, begging, pleading.
“I hear you, I’m here, I--” he mutters, meaning you’d been saying those things out loud, but then you find each other, and he lances into you. The pure pleasure and relief is enough to take your breath away. “Oh,” Steve breathes into your hair, holding still. 
You feel both pierced and enclosed, surrounded by this man you’ve heard and cared about by proxy over the past few months. The sensual heat of his body against and inside is filling you more than you were prepared for, as though the intimacy itself has healing properties.
Then, Steve moves his hips.
“Oh my God don’t you ever fucking stop!” you gasp out, moving to meet him when he rocks back in.
“I don’t think I can,” he says brokenly. The way he sucks in a breath as your rhythm matches his sends sparks of pleasure from every place you’re touching. “This is--”
“Ruinous?” you ask, deliberately angling your hips and tightening your inner walls around him. It’s rewarding as fuck, literally, because Steve Rogers grunts out his approval and speeds up, slamming into you with glorious fervor. All you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride, the fleeting thought passing through that you really wish you could see his face. 
There’s reward in the clench and release of his muscles under your hands, in the noises he’s making, but then he shifts his weight and cups your face with one hand, his thumb caressing its way over to press on your lips again. You’d loved that the first time, but you aren’t ready for Steve to lean his head a breath away from his own thumb, almost kissing it, his other hand holding your hip possessively.
The tenderness of his gesture during such a frenzy rips away the secret armor around your heart before you realize it’s happening-- because this is the very last barrier he has, the only part of himself he’s holding back.
Kisses are for lovers, and he’s being a hero.
After a thought like that, everywhere you can think to put your hands feels like trespassing, even though he’s fucking you into the mattress. There’s no comfort you can give this man, but you can show him that you’re an eager participant, that you’re not merely enduring this, but enjoying it, actively. You roll your hips with every thrust, stroking your hand along his bicep instead of his face like you want to. 
It’s obvious that it feels as good to him as it does for you, because Steve’s response is to huff a heated, grateful moan against his own thumb, his other fingers curling in pleasure on your face. You hum in appreciation, forgetting the way the sound will resonate on his thumb and his lips.
Steve licks his lips, and the brush of his tongue is napalm-sweet, destructive and delicious. You throw your head back and clench yourself around him as you arch up, hands sinking into his hair despite your determination not to. His response is to groan low and deep, sinking his face into the pillow beside you. You catch your breath when he runs his free hand along your leg, his hips stuttering with his lost concentration.
That’s heady enough, and you can feel a catastrophic orgasm on the horizon-- but then he keeps moving his hand, stroking and searching until he’s pulling your hand from his hair and slamming it down beside your head. Then Steve sucks in a breath, clasps your hands together and comes.
He comes, like it was a surprise, like the act of holding your hand was enough out of all the filthy, sensual, glorious things you’ve been doing together. Like Mistress wasn’t enough, like the room smelling like the musk of arousal wasn’t enough, but a palm to palm connection with you sent him over the edge. 
Every second of his agony is almost as intense for you as it clearly is for him. The weight of what’s just happened floods your eyes with tears that you know Steve wouldn’t understand if he could see them. That’s reinforced when, after going limp on top of you for a few seconds, he moves to rest on the mattress beside you. The fingers he’d been brutalizing your hip with smoothe a caress over to your stomach… but he doesn’t let go of your other hand.
Lifting Thor’s hammer couldn’t have made you feel more worthy.
After a moment, the hand on your stomach starts to slide down, thank God.
“Do you want--” Steve asks, and there’s enough Mistress in your system that your body answers for you. His deep chuckle sounds relieved rather than mocking to your overstimulated ears, but mostly you just chase his twisting fingers with your hips as you whisper barely-respectable encouragement.
It doesn’t take long for the tide of onrushing pleasure to start cresting for you, and you devolve into gasps and sighs that grow more desperate the closer you get to coming. Steve’s been making little encouragement noises that have barely registered for you because, whether he realizes it or not, he’s also been squeezing your joined hands in rhythm with his other hand’s movement. 
There’s something hot as hell about that, for some reason, but trying not to squeeze with him has drawn out your pleasure in wonderful and frustrating ways. You’re scared you’ll remind him that you’re holding hands, and he’ll stop-- but then Steve does something with his hand, something that only works if you’re strong and your hand is large, and you arch up, babble something incoherent, and squeeze the hell out of his hand.
“Ahhh!” Steve says, hand shifting so he can press his thumb in a warm sweep against the very center of your palm-- and that’s it, you’re destroyed for anyone else, forever. As you writhe in the throes of the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced, the thought that no other man’s going to play with your clit and your palm at the same time occurs to you, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.
You black out.
Tumblr media
When you wake up, you recognize the clinical setting of a hospital room, and the huge, terrified breath you suck in alerts multiple people to the fact that you’re awake.
“You’re okay, Dee, you’re fine, you made it,” Bucky says from somewhere in the room. The light is too bright, his voice is too loud, and you let out a sound of distress that sounds so much like a sex noise you swear out loud. “There she is!” your asshole best friend crows. Only then does he look over at you enough to realize what’s going on. “Light too bright?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, noting that there’s an actual IV in your arm, when you go to cover your ears. “Everything’s too much. Light, sound…”
Blessedly, someone flips a switch, and most of the lights in the room go out.
“I’ll mark that down,” a woman’s voice says softly. She’s wearing a white coat and an ID badge, but the badge is turned toward her chest, and the coat is covering what look like regular clothes, not scrubs.
“Whose insurance is this under?” you ask, suddenly uneasy. You’ve been uninsured for a while, ever since stepping away from your day job to work ‘full time’ as a vocalist. In reality, you’ve swapped to doing charity work in exchange for a small apartment above their office, with fewer hours, but the result is the same.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Miss--”
“Stark’s mistake, Stark’s funds,” Bucky interrupts. His voice is loud enough that it takes your muddled brain a little while to understand what he means. Your expression must look pained, because when he speaks again, it’s much quieter. “Can we have a few minutes?”
“That depends,” the doctor/nurse/indiscriminate medical professional says, sliding her glasses down her nose to address her next question to you. “Do you feel any residual effects of your exposure?”
Sure you do. You’re shaken to your core, literally and figuratively. Your concept of heroes has been drastically changed. 
You’ll never feel satisfied with sex ever again.
But that’s not what this woman is asking.
“No, I--I pretty much feel like myself.”
“Took you a minute,” Bucky mutters.
“Answering a medical question right away just makes doctors dubious,” you sniff.
“Quite right,” the woman says, sliding her glasses back up. “Three minutes.”
She’s already walking out the door when Bucky chases after her, hissing, “I won’t be done talking shit in three minutes!” You’re grateful he’d done that instead of yelling, because everything is intense right now.
“You’re never done talking shit,” you point out, holding up your arm. “So, I needed an IV? Please tell me it wasn’t for fluids.”
Bucky starts coughing. “Shit, I thought I’d have to wait a month before I could make jokes!”
“Oh, you do. I don’t.” You grin at him.
“Got it,” he says, clearly suppressing a smile. The expression shifts, and Bucky says, “You're in the tower infirmary. Steve says he’ll clear out if you want to visit the apartment. I told him you’d probably never set foot in there again.” He looks over at the window, obviously uncomfortable, so he doesn’t catch your stricken expression. Steve had done everything possible to treat you with respect. You don’t want him to think you’d be that… flippant about everything, at least, not with him.
“He knows you didn’t talk to me first before you said that, right?” You wonder if Steve needed an IV at all or if his healing factor meant he was fine by the time the two of you were rescued.
You also wonder how long he held your hand, after you passed out-- but shove the thought away.
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. How did I end up here?”
Bucky walks over and seems intensely interested in the IV bag, avoiding your eyes.
“You didn’t break in, did you? Steve says there was some kind of toxic gas that would get released if we broke the door barrier dow--”
“I did not break into my apartment, no,” he says over the rest of your sentence.
“Okay, you are not subtle, which tells me you want me to know that you broke in somewhere,” you say, your scattered mind bumping into some conclusions you can’t quite bring into focus. The only one you can get a grasp on makes you frown and reach for him. “You felt helpless, didn’t you?”
Bucky squeezes your hand for a second, and you tighten your grip when he goes to pull free. The signals he’s sending are clear, but now is not the time. You yank at his hand to make him look at you, and tune the dial back to levity.
“Hey, at least one thing went right, right? You’re in a new shirt!”
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, tensing up.
“Woah, there. Do what?” you ask. Bucky’s pulling at his hand again, and you look down in time to see that there’s some blood on it, before he uses his superior strength to get free, the thing he’d avoided doing before. “Gig’s up, Buck. What did you do?”
His lips twist to the side like he’s five years old and you’ve caught him stealing cookies. “I reassigned some priorities.”
“How does that put blood on your hand? Is it yours?”
An alarm starts going off in the room. It’s too loud, oppressively so, enough that all you can focus on is blocking it out.
Two awful minutes later, the sound stops, and you emerge from your pillow refuge to see that Bucky’s nowhere to be found. The white-coated woman from before is now tapping away at the machine next to your IV pole.
“Your blood pressure rose very quickly,” she says, frowning.
“Okay, you know what? Your blood pressure would rise too if you’d had that conversation, so how about you tell me when I can get out of here, and in return, I won’t rip this IV out and make that decision for both of us?”
You very much need to go home and start the process of forgetting what it feels like to hold hands with Steve Rogers, because that’s the part that’s fucking you up. It feels dangerous.
Disapproval is wafting off of this nurse/caretaker/doctor person, but she nods, pulling an envelope from the pocket of her coat to hand you. “I can remove the IV now, but as for release, give me a half hour? Yours was one in a long line of disturbances today.”
You spend the whole IV removal affronted by the characterization of what happened to you as a ‘disturbance,’ until you realize that was her goal. It had kept you quiet and still as you seethed.
You stew on that while you open the envelope, but the letter inside makes you forget all of that.
Hey, Chickadee. Tony Stark here.  Good news! There is zero surveillance footage of your presence in the tower today. I snatched snagged a few images you might be interested to see, though. Please don’t sell them for money. Your phone data should be copied over to the new model I took the liberty of picking out for you by the time they let you leave. I know this makes me a dick jerk, but I take the safety of my teammates very seriously, and you’ve done wonders for that, so it’s the least I can do.  For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about my part in what happened today. I fucked screwed messed up, and I’m writing this on some serious pain meds. I owe you some favors, is what I’m saying, and the phone is only the first of them. I’m fine, by the way. Just fine. Stark
You’re pretty sure he wrote this himself with zero oversight, and though you probably should be offended by the insensitivity, the letter is pretty ballsy and hilarious, which is on brand, really. Bucky had implied that Steve’s accident with Mistress was Stark’s fault, and if that’s true, you have some questions, but right now you’re so shaken by the effect that you don’t have time to contemplate the cause. Inside the envelope is a second envelope, and inside that is two pictures.
One is a picture of Tony Stark with a black eye.
The other is a picture of Steve Rogers with a black eye.
Tumblr media
Next chapter...
427 notes · View notes
swan-of-sunrise · 1 year
Text
Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist
Tumblr media
Summary: After the Battle of Earth, (Y/N) and Steve retire from superhero life and raise their daughter Carina as civilians; (Y/N), an award-winning novelist and humanitarian, and Steve, an up-and-coming artist and veterans’ advocate. But you didn’t think that that was just the end of their adventures, did you? Tag along as we follow (Y/N), Steve and their friends navigate life after the Battle of Earth and re-live some of the most important moments of their budding relationship in a different light.
Pre-Battle of Earth (2014-2023):
Sunshine - Steve pays a visit to the Smithsonian’s new exhibit honoring Captain America, and a little bit of sunshine unexpectedly breaks through his cloudy day.
A Night on the Town - Steve and (Y/N)’s first date, as told through the eyes of an extremely nervous ninety-seven year old super-soldier and a lovestruck historical-fiction novelist.
Post-Battle of Earth (2023-?):
The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV) (Part V) Hawkeye (Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV)
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=35d50b1ad11c4433
Book VII: “Endgame” Masterlist
Tagging: @mrs-obrien​ @lahoete​ @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk @momc95​ @savedbystyle​ @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie @outoftheregular​ @junipermurdock​ @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley​ @username23345 @crist1216​ @capswife​ @lilmschild​ @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell​ @pixviee​ @mary1raven​ @groovyqueer​​ @ljej95​ @innersublimefury @prettysbliss​
40 notes · View notes
vanillanaps · 8 months
Text
Still Get Jealous | Steve Rogers
Tumblr media
Request - Hello, I think you are a master writer and I have a drabble of blurb request only if you’re up for it though. Could you write a jealously trope for steve using the song red high heels? :> If it doesn’t inspire anything, that is okay. Thank you!
A/n - I must’ve forgotten how to write drabbles/blurb cause babyyy I got carried again lmaoo. But, unfortunately anon I didn’t find inspiration with the song you requested I still wanted give you jealousy and red high heels, hope it still fulfills you!!
Category - Steve Rogers x Reader, Angst
Warnings - Steve is a jealous asshole with a reckless mouth, reader drinks to ignore the pain
Word Count - 1.3k
♡♡♡♡
It had been approximately two weeks since Steven Grant Rogers left you alone in your apartment after he had broken up with you. In just a little over a month, it would’ve been your year anniversary with Steve. You were both happy and getting ready to take things to the next level, so it was beyond shocking when he sat you down to explain that he ‘just couldn’t do it anymore’ but you were smart enough to spot the bullshit.
Regardless, you cried. You were falling in love, hard and fast just for him to up and leave you out of the blue. But, as the second week of sulking had taken its time slowly ending, something in you snapped. You realized that you shouldn’t be home, crying and depressed about a man who clearly couldn’t give a rats ass about you.
Wiping your tears, you sat up as you searched for your phone in your tangled sheets and blanket. Once you found it, you quickly dialed the number of your favorite girl who could easily take you out of your slump, “Wanda?”
“Hey, Y/n. I’m so glad you called, you haven’t been responding to my text, I was worried.” She had answered the phone with concern in her voice.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I just,” You paused, sighing as you threw your covers off of yourself, jumping out of bed, “I’m just sick of crying over Steve you know? I want to go out, I want to have fun, I want to get back to who I was before him—and I wanna do it tonight.”
“Tonight? Y/n, are you sure you’re ready?” Wanda questioned. She was fully supportive of getting you out of the house, but she just wanted you to be sure.
“Yes, tonight. Be ready in an hour.” You told her, hanging up before she could respond, knowing she would try to mother you. Get your real feelings out as to why you were so suddenly ready to go out. But that’s not what you wanted. Even if it was for one night, you just wanted Steve off your mind.
♡♡♡♡
The music blasted loudly in the speakers surrounding the club, the atmosphere through the roof. As you took it all in, you could slowly feel the man slipping from your mind, “Let’s get a drink!” You shouted to Wanda. The two of you held hands as you shuffled to the bar, careful not to lose each other in the club, “Tequila shots please!”
“How many?”
“Just keep them coming!” You shouted to the bartender. He nodded, pouring up the shots and passing them over onto the counter.
“Are you sure, Y/n?!” Wanda asked, picking up her shot as you grabbed yours.
You nodded, “I just need one night not thinking about that—idiot!”
She nodded before holding up her glass to cheer with you, “To forgetting about that idiot!” You both laughed before clicking your glasses and taking the shots.
As promised, the bartender kept the shots coming after each time you both finished one. You felt there was no better way than drowning your sorrows than letting the liquor run through your body, mellowing you out and then letting you forget about the world surrounding you.
But no alcohol in the world could help him forget. Not as he stood in the back corner of the club, watching as you and Wanda take shots back to back. At first, it didn’t bother him. You were out with your friend, having a good time. His ears didn’t turn red from anger until he saw what you were wearing. You had his favorite number on.
A black, skimpy, body con dress that squeezes you in all the right ways, showing off your attributes that he loved. Barely covering your ass so if you were to bend over, the entire club could see all of you. You had your hair in his favorite style and not to mention that red gloss that was painted across those lips that felt like heaven to him. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Steve made his way closer to you, not close enough to be seen but close enough for his eyes to trail those legs that used to be wrapped around him 24/7. Catching those red, sexy, strappy, five inch stilettos that he bought you. The ones he use to fuck you endlessly in. How could he be such a fucking idiot.
“Wanda, I wanna danceeee!” You slurred, all of those shots starting to take control of your mind and body. You felt good, you felt great.
“Come on!” Taking her last shot, she grabbed your hands quickly pulling you to the dance floor.
You weren’t sure when it happened or how it happened, but at one moment, you were dancing with your best friend, having the time of your life. The next, your ass was pushed up against some man’s crotch as you grinded on him. His hands trailing to any part of your body he could reach. You didn’t mind though, you deserved this. You especially didn’t mind when he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses into your shoulder and neck. For the moment, you were enjoying it and then—you weren’t.
“The fucks your problem dude?!” The random man yelled when you were snatched from his hold.
Your body ran cold when you pulled yourself together, just long enough to see who ruined your dance, “Steve?! What are you doing?!” He ignored you as he grabbed your hand and dragged you through the club and to the exit, “Stop it! Let me go!” He didn’t stop until he got you outside of the club, “What’s your issue?!”
“Two weeks huh? That’s all it took for you to be in the club? Dressed like a hooker and dancing like a slut?” Steve shouted. Immediately he regretted it when he saw the look on your face, but there was nothing he could do to take it back now.
You scoffed, shaking your head, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that Steve? You broke up with ME for no reason! I cried for two weeks straight because of you! But now, since I’m in the club, with a hooker outfit that YOU bought me, by the way, I’m a slut?!”
Steve's blood was running hot and he was running of anger and jealousy, “You’re drunk, Y/n.”
“I’m not drunk!” You shouted, right before stumbling over your feet, “I’m not that drunk! I’m sober enough to realize that I was doing and to tell you to leave me the fuck alone! I’m not going to spend the rest of my life crying over you when you don't want me! And that stunt you just pulled? Let alone calling me a hooker and a slut all in the same breath? I’m glad we broke up!” You felt it, you felt the tears starting to bubble underneath your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall, “Just leave me alone! I just want to be the person I was before you ruined me, you asshole!”
“Y/n, I’m sorry.” He called out as you started to back away from him, “I broke up with you because I was scared! Everything between us was moving fast and—and I didn’t know what to do so I left!”
“I don’t care, Steve! I don’t care! It’s too late!” You shook your head, not wanting to hear any more excuses. Not wanting him to ruin your night anymore than he already had, “Go find someone else to be scared to fall in love with.”
Just then, Wanda came running out of the club, relieved to see you standing there, “Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you! I was worried.” She breathed, but halted in her tracks when she saw Steve a couple feet away, “Steve? What are you doing here?”
“Leaving, he’s leaving.” You responded for him, turning your back to him and facing Wanda, “Let’s go back inside, I need another drink.”
She nodded, wrapping her arm with yours as the two of you headed back inside without so much as a glance back at the man who realized he truly lost everything.
633 notes · View notes