#Steve Drabble
Text
Busybody
summary: when Steve notices your anxiety spiraling out of control, he finds his own way to help
cw: anxiety
Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words
You’d woken up with some busybody in your chest that you can’t get rid of.
It feels like you’ve had three cups of coffee despite your four hours of sleep. You’d all but jolted awake, pre-panicked about something that you haven’t identified yet. Something you have to be forgetting, or not assigning enough importance to, surely. And the way you figure it, if your body’s going to freak out at you about being idle, you may as well appease it and hop to.
By the time Steve cracks an eyelid, you’re thinking about what to make for lunch. Heart never having left your throat, you’ve cleaned the kitchen, baked a blackberry cobbler, tried to read a few pages of your book before giving up for fidgetiness, reorganized your portion of the bathroom cabinet, and begun a grocery list for the week.
“Morning,” he yawns, leaning against the counter. He’s looking endearingly rumpled, a faint red line on his face from a crease in his pillowcase and his hair pressed flat on the one side. You smile at him as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Smells like fire in here.”
“Morning! I made a cobbler,” you explain, not mentioning the burnt first attempt that’s smelled up his kitchen despite you opening all the windows. “Do you want some bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast?”
Steve blinks, eyebrows rising slightly. “Uh, sure. You gonna make me some?”
“Mhm.” You’re already taking the eggs out of the fridge. “Scrambled?”
“Yeah. Thanks, babe.”
“No problem.” You grin, happy to be of use as you whisk his eggs with a fork, turning on two burners of the stove to preheat as you do. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good,” he yawns. “Well, pretty good. Woke up a couple times this morning, but you were already gone. Been up for a while?”
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”
Steve nods, frowning. “Sorry, honey. You didn’t get much chance to sleep the night before, either, right?”
You hum, bacon sizzling when it hits the pan. You put the toast down in the toaster, hoping you’ve timed it right so it’ll still be warm when everything else is done. “Oh, do you want orange juice?”
“Sure, but I can grab it.” He moves for the cabinet, but you nudge in front of him, too restless to stop moving while everything heats on the stove.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You shoot him a smile as you grab a cup. Steve returns it, but muddled.
“So between last night and the one before, how many hours have you gotten?”
You shrug. “Not sure.” Nine, give or take. “But I don’t feel tired.”
“Well, that’s good,” he says slowly, watching as you fill the cup with orange juice before hustling back to the stove, flitting between tasks at something approaching light speed.
“Hey, so I was thinking,” you go on, flipping the bacon, “do you want to do some Christmas shopping today? I mean, I know you said you’re not thinking about it yet, but it can’t hurt to get a jump on things.”
Steve yawns again, stretching his back. “Yeah, that sounds okay. Not sure I’d know what to get anyone.”
You nod a few times. “Maybe you’ll know it when you see it.” Flip the bacon onto a plate, add more pepper to the eggs, put the bacon’s pan in the sink, turn off that burner on the stove—the toaster goes off, and you nearly hit your head on the ceiling. You jump straight up.
“Oh.” You press a hand to your chest, laughter tripping off your tongue. Your blood thrums excitedly, like it’s finally found the outlet it's been looking for all morning. “God, that scared me.”
“I could tell,” Steve says, eyebrows at his hairline and smiling faintly. “You doing alright?”
“Yeah, good.” Your heartbeat has become more noticeable all of a sudden, a hollow ache behind your breastbone. “I’m almost done, just a sec.”
“No rush, honey. Thanks for making me breakfast. It looks great.”
“Of course, no problem.” You plate up the rest and spin to find Steve already there, his hand the only thing stopping you from nearly flinging the dish into the wall surprisedly.
“Thank you,” he says earnestly, taking the plate from you and setting it on the counter. He brings his arms around your shoulders, and you wrap yours around him too, an automatic response. Steve sighs, his ribs expanding and contracting with the force of it, and you copy him mockingly.
“Still tired, baby?”
“A little,” he admits. “Though I can’t really complain, considering how little sleep you’ve gotten.”
You make to pull out of the hug, but Steve tightens his grip on you, palm pressing into the midpoint of your upper back. You give in, a willing captive.
“It’s fine,” you tell him. “I’m sorry you’re tired.”
Steve hums, taking another big breath. “I’m good.” A pause. “Okay, you can tell me if I’m crazy, but it does smell like something’s burning in here, right?”
“Burnt,” you admit. “I left a blackberry cobbler in the oven a bit too long. The one in the fridge is a re-do.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I think the smell’s clearing out anyway. Right?”
You sniff experimentally at the air. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Yeah?” he sniffs too.
You inhale more fully, only detecting the faint remains of smokiness under the newer scent of bacon grease.
“I’ve never had blackberry cobbler,” he says, palm beginning to coast slowly between your shoulder blades while his other arm stays firmly around your waist. “What’s it taste like?”
You perk up. “Wanna try some now?”
“No—I wouldn’t want to ruin this breakfast you’ve made me. Describe it to me.”
It’s an odd request, but nothing you can’t manage for him. You think back, letting your tongue conjure up the memory of the last time you had it. “Well, the blackberries aren’t tangy by the time they’ve been cooked,” you tell him. Steve hums, hand solid and steady on your upper back. “And this recipe is really sweet. The dough is kind of like sugar cookie dough.”
“Sounds good,” he says appreciatively. “Hey, do you think you can smell it?”
“From inside the fridge?” You take your head from his shoulder to give Steve an odd look.
“Sure, just give it a try.” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. You wrinkle your brow, sniffing tentatively. Steve opens his eyes as if to check you’re doing it, and it’s the worry in his look that gives him away. Your bemusement gives way to fondness as you take a long breath in, filling your lungs and holding the air inside you for a few moments before emptying them. You know what he’s doing, but you’re letting him anyway.
“Mmm, don’t think I can,” you tell him wryly.
“No?” Steve’s smile is sheepish, well aware you’re onto him. “Do you think we should find three things you can touch, just for fun?”
You roll your eyes at him, but inhale again as you hug him tightly. Some of the pain in your chest eases. “Thanks, Stevie.”
“What for?” he asks, hand resuming its route between your shoulder blades. “Hey listen, I’m all about your Christmas shopping idea, but do you wanna try taking a hot shower first? It might help you relax.”
“That’s a good idea,” you admit, peeling away from him. He lets you this time, albeit reluctantly. “Your breakfast is going to get cold.”
Steve looks at it as though just remembering it’s there. “Right, thanks. Sit with me while I eat? You could have some of that tea you like.”
You smile at him, taking a mug and your herbal tea down from the cabinet. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.”
“You’ve got to stop thanking me, I haven’t done a thing all morning.”
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𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨
pairing:dark!boss!steve rogers x virgin!fem reader
WORDCOUNT: 5.9k | warnings: dubious consent ! power imbalance (boss!steve, employee!reader) sexual naivety, height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader], oral m receiving, rough p in v, misogyny, sexism, breeding kink, daddy kink, housewife kink, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, praise kink, spanking, captain kink, dumb baby reader (in steve's eyes), nonconsensual pregnancy, reader loves big mean stevie and loves when he taints her <3
PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.
summary: Steve Rogers is in deep need of a new personal assistant. You, an intern for Stark who often loiters around the Avengers Compound, put yourself forward for the position. You believe working under the Captain America will help you to get in good graces throughout your career. Little do you know, being America’s golden boy’s personal assistant means doing a little more than rummaging through files and writing letters.
—
So pretty, so perfect, so poised. Steve Rogers sits back comfortably in his chair, his eyes trained on you, never leaving, not even to acknowledge the poor waitress who puts his beer down in front of him. You speak proper, each word flowing from your mouth with purpose, your speech coherent, and your voice confident.
It makes Steve’s cock twitch in his trousers as he watches you. Your gaze on him doesn’t linger, but you do flinch when he reaches towards his beer too quickly. It makes his stomach flip, and he tries to hold back the hiss that threatens to slip past his lips. He knows he’s America’s Golden Boy, and that he’s supposed to be better than this; but he was raised in the 1930’s, and his ideals surrounding women never really fizzled out.
Your voice fades back in, and as you address him, it snaps Steve out of his train of thought. “So, I’m sure now that we’re well acquainted with each other, Captain Rogers—“
“Please. Just call me Steve. We’ve known one another long enough.”
He quirks a brow as your cheeks flood over in red, before beckoning you to continue your speech. “Well, then, Steve,” you swallow thickly, your voice dropping a few octaves, and Steve senses that he’s embarrassed you. “Now that we’re well - uh, better - acquainted, I hope that you can consider me for the position of your personal assistant.”
“What?” Steve’s blue eyes bore into yours, and they make you brood in anxiety. You feel childish, sitting in front of him in a flowery dress, at what could somewhat be considered an interview, asking to work for him. Perhaps you should’ve dressed nicer, more work appropriate? Yet, before you can blubber on, Steve continues; “doll, if you wanted to work for me, you could’ve just said. Did you do all of this to ask for the position?”
He blinks at you. Embarrassment washes over you like a tsunami wave as you blink back at him. Of course, you could’ve just said you wanted to work for him - you feel naive ever thinking otherwise. Steve’s not a stranger, you practically work with him every day, and he'd be more than enthusiastic to hear you out. He's not one of. the guys at work who ignore women and everything they have to say. He’s nice enough to always say hello to you and sometimes buy you coffee, and flowers if you were down. He's one of the good ones!“I thought it might’ve been inappropriate to ask you whilst you were training.” You shoot him a small smile, trying to ignore how the upwards tug of his lips makes your skin rise with goosebumps.
“Does Stark know you’re applying for this role?”
"He’s actually the one who suggested it.”
Steve takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at you over the rim of the glass, watching you squirm and ponder over his answer. He already knows the answer to your question, but watching you shuffle in your seat and act silly in front of him makes his cock throb, and he enjoys the feeling. You’re so innocent, pressing against the table, wide-eyed, acting as though your tits aren’t pressed together and basically on display for him. The dress is so low-cut. It makes him want to take you right here.
Did you wear that just to get him riled up? “Well, I can’t think of anybody more suitable to fit the position. You know the Compound, you know my office, and I’ve noticed you get on well with higher authorities. You seem like a doting employee.” He kisses his teeth slightly, looking down at the table, before looking up at you through his lashes. He tries to hold back the smirk on his face as he speaks, but it’s impossible not to: “of course, you will also be expected to work somewhat more flexible hours. Later start times, later finishes. We won't always be in the office at the compound - a lot of my additional work files are at my personal home office, but I can always make you up a key to give you easier access."
“Of course,” you chirp, nodding at him enthusiastically. “I’m okay with longer hours, and I can work around you and what you need.”
Steve grins. “Perfect.”
—
It has been about three weeks since you left your position as an intern at Stark Industries and began working for Steve Rogers. It was an exhausting process at first; the sudden change in routine, the heavy workload, the unsociable hours, and Steve often worried you would change your mind. If you couldn't bend for this position, you would break, and he was incredibly worried you'd do the latter. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen you frown so often before, but during the first fortnight of working as his assistant, your lips were always somewhat tugged downwards, and you were always so busy, unable to even joke with him.
You soldiered on, though. Managing to catch up to months worth of missed calls, avoided emails, old paperwork, and forgotten documents. Steve praised you every time you completed a task, and often he found you beaming up at him, prideful and flustered.
Yet, whilst peeking up from his desktop, he finds himself annoyed. You��re sitting quietly opposite him, noting down things and scheduling appointments, and he can’t help the twitch of his cock as he watches you do it. You're not incredibly busy anymore, and yet you're not engaging in any conversation with him. Steve knows you value professionalism, but he only really let you have this job because of his alternative motives when it comes to you.
His eyes flicker back to the computer screen, and then back to you. It's like before his brain can register what he's doing; he's doing it, but he doesn't mind. This is his office, after all, his space. You're his assistant, and if anything, you're supposed to assist him in doing it. His hands are wrapped around his thick, angry cock, and he pumps slowly, watching you intensely.
You're tapping away at your computer so innocently. Your eyes are wide and interested, and clearly whatever your scheduling for Steve has your entire attention because you don't even look up at him. He strokes his cock carefully, and slowly, and his breathing wavers as he runs a finger over his angry, red tip, using some of his precum for lube.
“You okay, Steve?” your voice fills the quiet room, and he looks over at you, his hands still wrapped around his cock. The naivety of your tone makes his cock twitch in his hands, and his pace slows. He makes eye contact with you, never breaking it as he slowly strokes his hand up and down his length. It makes him so much harder that you have no idea what he's doing, and he imagines what your lips would feel like wrapped around him.
“Fine, doll. Just a little sore.” Steve purses his lips as you nod. He meets your eyes, and you hold his gaze, concern plastering over your face.
You're so... modest. Completely unaware of what he's doing, and he loves it. Steve craves you; craves to taint the innocence which consumes you. You're too trusting for your own good, and one of these days, it's going to get you hurt.
Steve just needs to make sure it's him that hurts you, and nobody else.
“You do look awfully red, Steve.” You murmur across from him, concern painting your features. The heavy gaze your boss has on you makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but worry overrides any instinctive emotion. “Do you feel hot?”
Steve grunts in agreement with your question. He looks more disheveled than usual. His posture seems hunched, but he seems somewhat relaxed, and his gaze is hard and trained on you. You're unsure as to what's wrong - he's so red, it looks like he's burning up. Perhaps he has a fever, but you're sure the Super Soldier Serum ensures that he doesn't get ill. “Can I get you anything? Paracetamol? A glass of water?” you ask innocently, standing up from your desk chair, slowly walking towards him.
His computer monitor thankfully covers his crotch. Steve’s eyes don’t leave you, and it makes his cock leak when you softly begin to walk over to him. He’s almost certain you own nothing but inappropriate, seductive clothing; he’s seen more of your cleavage these past three weeks than he has anyone else’s, and it’s driving him crazy. The fact he’s managed to hold off from devouring you is insane, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take.
Being the nice guy just doesn’t seem to be working. The hand which was stroking his cock stills, and he commands you to stop once you’re mere inches away, stood behind his monitor, so small he can hardly see you. “Do you own any appropriate clothing?”
His question is direct and his tone is reprimanding. Your knees wobble, and your head hangs slightly. Shame spreads throughout your body. “I didn’t realise this was inappropriate. My apologies.”
It’s unlike Steve to bark at you. Usually, he’s incredibly soft-spoken and considerate, yet it seems you’ve worn any patience he’s held for you thin. “Doll, every outfit you’ve worn this week has been low-cut and short.” He breathes, and your neck prickles with discomfort when you notice how dark and blown his pupils are. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I don’t think these kinds of… outfits would be appropriate elsewhere. You didn’t wear these outfits when interning for Stark.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Your subordinate manner only makes his cock twitch more, and he’s thankful his hand is sheathing his cock, because the precum that trickles out of its covers his skin and not his trousers. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”
It’s painful to let go of his length, but he has to, and he shoves it back inside of his trousers and innocently buttons them up. “Are you wearing these suggestive outfits to get a rise out of me?”
You gasp. “No. Never. I - Sir, I aim to be as appropriate and considerate as possible. I’m sorry I’ve been misleading you.” Steve rises from his seat, and you swallow thickly, feeling incredibly small compared to your boss. You’ve often been close to him - side by side, brushing shoulders, but he’s always been soft-spoken and gentle, apologetic and genuinely caring. Now, it seems like his patience is worn thin, and as opposed to seeing a civilian Steve, you feel as though you're standing in front of a soldier. “I can go and change now if you want?”
“No.” His tone is so low it matches that of a growl, and you cower weakly as he towers over you. Fear pulsates in your being as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly unsafe, and your heart races in your chest. Steve would never hurt me, you remind yourself, he’s one of the good ones.
You open your mouth to speak, but Steve shushes you. His finger splays over your lips, and you feel scolded and childlike. “I think you do it for attention.” His finger pushes against you, as does his body, as he stalks forward and you shuffle backward, trying to keep any space between the two of you. “You know, it’s been hard staying silent for this long. Watching you from afar, never knowing what to say or do.” His hot breath fans your ear, and Steve’s nostrils flare. “Trying to be a gentleman. Buying you coffee and flowers and cards when you were working at the Compound as a way to be friendly and nice. But I don’t think you want that.”
“I’m sorry, Steve.” You squeak out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Steve’s fingers gently press against your skin, wiping away any that spill, his skin icy against your own. “I-I’ve appreciated the gifts. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” He asks, his eyes shooting down at you. You nod your head eagerly, staring up at him, trying to ignore how the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think you’re truly sorry. I gave you this job to be my personal assistant. I expected more of you. You’re dressing as whore, and you can’t even apologize correctly.”
You swallow thickly, staring up at him. “‘M sorry. I haven’t meant to present myself that way,” your voice wavers. “What would y-you deem a suitable apology, Steve?”
“Captain.” Steve’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you squeak slightly as he tugs at it. “You only get to call me Steve when you’ve been good, which you haven’t.”
“How should I apologize, Captain?”
Your voice is an incredulous whisper. The subordination you show drives Steve crazy, and it takes everything in him not to force your mouth open and push you onto his cock. No, he needs to coax you into it - make you agree that this is the best way to apologize. Any other way wouldn’t suffice.
It’s as though you can’t believe this is happening - and in a way, Steve can’t, either. He’s always imagined this happening - having you begging him to tell you how to do something in a way that’s deemed fit in his eyes, having you be in pain whilst doing it. He curses slightly, before breathing out, “use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me.”
“What?”
“I said, ‘use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me’. Don’t expect me to repeat myself again.” He warns, blinking down at you, before muttering, “you’ve dressed like a whore, sweetheart. I think it’s only fair the Captain treats you as such.” His thumb drags down your lips, and you look up at him with such hesitation it makes his balls throb. He feels as though the look on your face could make him cum already.
Warmth floods over your cheeks. It feels wrong as Steve’s palms press heavily on your shoulders, the weight of him coaxing you down. A shudder leaves you as he forces you onto your knees in front of him, and you stare at his trousers, which are tight by the groin. “Captain, I don’t think -“ you swallow thickly, shaking as he comes down to unbutton his trousers, and flinching once his hands clasp yours, “-I don’t think this is appropriate.”
Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, and he glares down at you, relishing in your embarrassment. Your eyelashes are wet and tears prickle your eyes still, “You’re on your knees now, doll.” He huffs, blowing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Your hands shake as he guides them to his trousers. “You might as well get on with it.”
“No I - I don’t want to.” Your voice wavers as he uses your hands to pry his cock out of his trousers, which is an angry red and seeping with cum, and you feel like scurrying away from it. “I-I haven’t ever done anything like this before.” Steve is stronger than you and the grip he’s got on your wrists makes you feel as though they will snap, so you decide not to, rather cowering away from his length in fear.
“Are you a virgin?” His question makes your head shoot up in embarrassment, your eyes wide and distraught, and he groans. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking virgin.”
“I never said I was,” you mutter, yelping when his hands strike you against the face. Fresh tears fall over old tear stains, and you flinch as his fingers splay over your chin.
He tuts. “Don’t lie to me. Are you a virgin?”
“Yes,” you murmur, shameful, eyes watery as you stare up at him. You sniffle, thankful for his gentle touch, which replaces the cruelty of his hands seconds ago. It makes your heart bloom with warmth as he brushes your face softly with his fingers, although he’s wiping away the pain he’s caused.
“My pretty little baby’s a virgin,” Steve coos, and the tone of his voice makes pressure form in your lower belly. “This mouth has never been around anyone’s cock before? Ever?”
There’s almost a deluded tone in his voice as he presses his tip against your lips. You quiver below him, your eyes trained on him as he pushes himself in your mouth. It feels wrong to do this with him - it feels exploitative, and whilst you opt to pull away from him, the wetness in your panties warns you otherwise. You’re enjoying this, and it’s making you feel terrible. You’re letting your boss take advantage of you and you love it.
You'd be lying if you denied the fact that you found Steve attractive. You had a thing for blonds, and the Golden Boy reputation he had made butterflies form in your belly. The fact he was so unlike what he seems makes your thighs clench and your pussy throb. A Golden Boy with an urge to taint; and somehow, you want to be tainted.
You hum against his cock, and it makes Steve’s stomach explode with heat. The wet of your tongue and the hot of your mouth is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and as your teeth scrape against him, he hisses, trying to hold back the smack he wants to deliver to you. You’re not ready for that yet; you’re a virgin, a sweet girl who needs taking care of. He needs to be gentle with you. “Nuh-uh-uh, doll. Cover those teeth of yours and hollow your cheeks - yes, like that, baby."
Steve breathes heavily as you take it in. It feels intrusive to your mouth as you suck on his cock, your tongue swirling up and down his tip. His hands make their way into your hair, and he gently begins to slide your head up and down, going at a quicker pace. It makes your belly ache with warmth as he does it, the feeling of his hands wrapped in your hair making you feel surprisingly... horny? It makes your face flush when you realize you're enjoying being used by Steve, and you eagerly begin to run your tongue up and down his length, tracing his veins and making sure to pay extra attention to his tip.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your chin uncomfortably, “make your daddy’s cock nice and wet.” Steve’s pace quickens, and more and more of his cock forces its way into your mouth until your eyes are pricking with tears and you’re almost certain his length is going to suffocate you. Gag after gag follows through with each desperate thrust of his hips, and you clasp your hands around his thigh, looking up at him, eager to breathe. He doesn’t let you.
“My perfect little girl. Let daddy cum in your mouth and he’ll forgive you for dressing like such a whore.”
It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice anyway. In Steve's eyes, he's waited long enough to paint you in his cum, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish. He pulls out slightly, spewing cum over your cheeks and lips, grunting with approval at the sight of you. His innocent little personal assistant, who has never felt a man’s cock before today, has just had her throat fucked as though she were a fleshlight. Steve groans, steadying himself by using your head for support, and your nose crinkles as you swallow his cum which had painted your tongue.
It doesn't taste that bad.
“Best you clean yourself up.” Steve murmurs as you clamber up, knees shaking, the heat between your legs throbbing. “I don’t want my personal assistant to look so... defiled whilst she’s working alongside me.”
“Yes, Captain.”
As you attempt to scurry off to the bathroom, Steve stops you. “I want to make a few things clear about your position as my personal assistant, doll.”
You nod your head, uncertain as to what he might say next. The sight of you covered in his cum makes his heart bloom with pride, and he realises that he has finally got you where he wants you to be. “Your role as my personal assistant is to assist me with anything I deem necessary. Whether that be sexual or otherwise. You got that?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Good girl.”
—
Your body has been aching and sore for days. Forcing yourself up from your desk chair, you jolt slightly at the sudden pain which shoots up through your spine. You look away from Steve’s hot gaze, which makes you feel flustered and funny, and you begin to flip through pages in your folder, desperate to keep yourself occupied and not draw too much attention from Steve.
“Come here, doll.” His voice is gentle, his arms wide and open, urging you in.
You nod your head, opting to agree. You've become conditioned to his sexual advances, and he accepts when you're not in the mood, saying that he doesn't want to pressure you. Steve is a good guy in that way; he wants you to move at your own pace. You only have to do this for a few more months or so, as that’s how long your contract is.
Steve taps his lap. You comply, carefully seating yourself atop of him, crinkling your nose when he gets too close. He notices, but he doesn’t care, leaning backward slightly and brushing a curl away from your face.
“What have I done for you to hate me?” his once confident voice is quiet, oozing with rejection.
You blink at him. “I - I don’t hate you.”
Steve hums, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You shuffle uncomfortably in his lap, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch. You’re so innocent, so friendly, a big baby that needs protecting from the world. All Steve wants to do is protect you and keep you safe. “You don’t look at me the same anymore,” he notes quietly. “You used to look at me like I was a savior before you started working under me.”
You shuffle uncomfortably, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves slightly to get comfortable, and your breath hitches in your throat when his clothed crotch rubs against yours. “I still think of you as a savior, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.
You’ve worked for Steve long enough now to know that the way around difficult conversations is to stroke his ego. His hand snakes around your back, and he traipses his fingers up and down your back slowly. “No bra, huh? What have I told you about dressing appropriately?”
“S-sorry, Steve.”
“Mmm, I forgive you, baby.” His hands fall to your skirt, and his fingers slowly ride up them. The material parts with the moving of his hands, and your body flushes with heat when his finger slides up and down your slits. He tuts. “No underwear, either? This'll be a little harder to forgive.”
You squeak slightly as Steve pushes a finger inside of you. “Y-you asked me not to wear underwear when I'm around you.”
“Nuh-uh-uh. I don’t remember that, doll. Don’t make things up to try and make yourself better off.” Except, he does remember it because he practically commanded you to strip your underwear off the last time you wore some when working alongside him. But you don’t need to remember that. Steve wants you to believe everything you do for him is because you want to do it, not because he’s told you to.
“Really?” you squeak as he curls his finger inside of you, ensuring he hits against your spongy spot. You try to ignore the heaviness of Steve’s gaze, and you swallow dryly, stuttering as Steve slips another digit in, beginning to fuck you faster with a ‘come-forth’ motion.
“Yeah, doll. Maybe you just wanted your daddy to have easier access to this pretty pussy of yours. I know how much you like getting that little pussy touched.”
His fingers slow down inside of you, and he gazes down at you with a raised brow. You protest, trying to roll against his fingers, but he grabs your thighs and shakes his head. “Bad girls don’t get to feel good.”
“I’m not bad," you whine, and Steve shakes his head in response.
“You lied to daddy. Said he wanted you to wear no underwear. You said it like I’ve been forcing you not to wear underwear when it was your decision.”
The sharpness in his tone makes you recoil, and you still your lower half. against him, not wanting to make him anymore angrier than he already is. “I-I’m sorry. It was my decision. I’m sorry for lying.”
Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You know, I’ve been holding back these past weeks. I wanted to break you in.” He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine in protest, but your sounds are muffled when he shoves them inside of your mouth. You suck instinctively, and he groans against you. “I’ve been wanting to use that pretty pussy of yours for so long, doll. Been wanting to defile you and make you mine.”
Before you can even react, the tip of his cock is pressing against your slits. “I’ve wanted to fuck you and fill you up with my cum for so long now.” His voice is a growl, and you feel frozen in place, beginning to slowly shake your head. “Fuck you full of my babies. And I know you want that, too.” He groans as he presses harsh kisses against your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin.
“No, Steve,” you breathe heavily as he holds you into place, your own body no match for the strength of his. “I- I don’t want that. I'm not ready for a baby."
“But you are. You just don’t know it yet.” His cock pushes into you, and you let out a whimper, struggling against him. Your walls sheathe him, and you let out a pained squeak. "Look at how well you take me, baby. You were made for me. You’re so wet for me. Look at you, trying to deny your rightful place as my subordinate. My pretty little girl.”
He forces his cock into you slowly. Your walls squeeze around him, sheathing his cock so well, and you whimper, squeezing your nails into his shoulders so hard you feel as though you're going to leave behind crescent moons. "No, Steve," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut, desperately trying to get rid of the burn between your leg. "'t hurts. Stevie, I'm not ready."
"You're ready, baby," he seethes, throwing his head back slightly as he pushes his hips up further. "Your little virgin pussy is hugging my cock so fucking tight."
A mewl escapes you as his cock brushes up against the spongy spot inside of you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and mascara begins to brew below your lash line. Steve stares at you, his gaze passionate, wondering how he ever got so lucky. Not only has he got you exactly where he needs you, but he's also ruining you, tainting you for other men.
The only way he can truly ensure other men will leave you alone is to fill that belly of yours with his baby, so that's exactly what he intends to do. "Does that feel good?" he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. "You feel so full, baby?"
"So full, Steve," you whine, trying to adjust yourself to gather more comfort. Your walls rub against his cock as you adjust, and it feels kind of... good, so you do it again. Your hips slowly roll atop of him, and you whimper to yourself, pain mixing with pleasure.
Steve lets you bounce on him. It's a slow pace, and it doesn't hurt, though it feels unnatural to have something this big inside of you. It's not that you're entirely sexually naive - you've masturbated before, but this is completely different. Steve is huge, and with every roll of your hips, you can feel him. There's no room for escape, and your stomach flips as you throw your arms around his neck. "Steve," you breathe, eyes flittering shut as the coil inside of you threatens to break and snap, your toes curled in desperation. It feels as though you're just inches away from experiencing pure ecstasy, but you can't reach it, and it's making you so frustrated, you feel as though you could cry. "H-help me, Steve."
"You want Daddy's help when getting off?" he coos, brushing a curl away from your face. You stare down at him, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, and he groans slightly. So cute, so small, so ready for him. This is how you should be - begging for his help, needing him, relying on him. You're just a woman, after all; you need a big, strong man like Steve to take care of you.
His hips thrust up, and it's incredibly painful at first. Steve's pace is nothing compared to yours - you were being slow and gentle with your body, and he just wants to ruin it. His hips smash into you, his cock sliding in and out, and he peppers harsh kisses against your neck. You mewl against him, pressing up against his chest to feel him, your toes curling in your flats, your eyes dazed, mouth gaping. You look like a picture-perfect image, and Steve grunts as he fucks you, wanting to tip you over the edge.
It doesn't take long until the coil snaps. You murmur and shake against him, your thighs clenched as you cum, squirting all over his cock, drenching his balls and trousers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you yell against him, his cock relentlessly fucking you throughout your orgasm.
"I'm gonna fill you with my babies," he growls, "drown your pussy with my fucking cum."
"No," you cry out, unable to move as he thrusts himself into you; again and again and again. You feel so helpless, so small and weak against him, and you stare up at him. His pupils are dark and blown, and his Adam's apple bobs desperately, his nostrils flaring as his cock twitches inside of you. "Please, pull out!"
"I don't think so, baby," he grunts, and with one final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you. Your walls squeeze him simultaneously, and he lets out a low, powerful groan, as he coaxes your walls with his cum. "Gotta make you a nice little housewife. Gonna have you popping out all of my babies."
Steve brushes away the tears which slip down your cheeks. He doesn't even realize how hard he's been holding you until he lets go, your arms riddled with handprint marks which he's sure will bruise. "Don't cry, doll," he murmurs, "you knew what came with the job."
"No, I didn't," you sniffle, pressing your head into his neck. It's wrong how his warmth and his smell act as a safety valve for you when he's the reason you're so upset. "I would've never - I would've never gotten into this if I knew what you expected from me."
A gentle sob racks your body, and Steve looks down at you, caressing your face gently. "Baby, stop crying. You're ruining that little face of yours." In honesty, Steve's patience is running thin. He's been good to you; caring, doting, paying you well for an easy job, and this is how you react? You cry into his arms after he tells you he's going to pump you full of his children? He's Captain America, for God's sake. You should be begging for it. "Just - Jesus fucking christ," he huffs as you continue to cry, grabbing your face harshly, and the sudden grip shocks you. "Stop crying. If you're going to speak, at least try and be fucking coherent."
Nodding your head, you wipe your eyes, which are tender and you assume, red. "I'm not ready for this," your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve almost feels a bit sorry at the sight of you. "I- I don't want this."
"Only good girls get what they want," Steve states plainly, staring at your disheveled face. He certainly got what he wanted - you look ruined, and you feel it, too. He imagines his cum is mixed with a bit of your blood; what, with him defiling you and all, he probably broke your hymen as well. The thought makes him grin to himself, and he utters, "I don't think you've been good, so you don't get what you want, baby."
"I'm sorry! I just - this doesn't seem like a fair punishment! I don't want this!" You cry out as Steve delivers a harsh smack to your ass, and you gaze up at him pathetically through your lashes as he tuts.
"I don't care if you think it's fair or not. You've been teasing me ever since you were an intern at Stark Industries, doll. I've been waiting to breed you for that long," his voice vibrates against you, and you shake your head, ashamed that you even thought you could get away with arguing against him. He's the Captain, and he has all of the control. "Anyway, you're just a dumb little baby. You have no idea what you want right now. But I do. I know what's good for you. Don't you trust me, baby?"
#steve rogers#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x reader#steve x y/n#marvel avengers#the avengers#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x female reader#chris evans#dark steve rogers x reader#dark steve rogers x y/n#steve drabble#dark steve rogers#captain america#captain america x you#steve rogers series#oneshot#dark chris evans#womnsfw#1k 💕
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hi idk if ur still taking requests for chris evans but can u do something where y/n and chris have an argument but then she flashes him just to end the argument hehe btw i love ur writing💗💗
A/N: It's been a minute since I've written and I can't remember doing the actual actors for stuff, I thought I normally did Steve or Bucky, character stuff so my bad, I'm going to do Steve lmao
Tag: Steve and reader are already in a relationship (and please say sorry to Steve by getting on your knees)
Warnings: None
"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you," Steve's footsteps follow yours as you turn your back to him, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you made your way to your shared bedroom.
"I'm over it," is your reply as you push the door open and cross the bedroom heading to the bathroom. A shower sounded so good right now.
You two had just made it home from a mission. It was undercover and Steve had led the mission, making it very clear to you to not go off script. But, life doesn't follow rules and you were put in a rock and a hard place that made you reckless, Steve's words not yours.
"Well I'm not," Steve grumbled his shield swinging off his back to rest on the ground against the wall of your bedroom. "You shouldn't have done it." He pressed and your eyes rolled again as you shook your head.
"I did what I had to and we made it back fine," You huffed, turning on your heel to face the blonde super soldier. His arms were crossed over his chest, his uniform snug across his upper torso as he stared you down. "Believe it or not, I was hired to Shield before they thawed you out."
Steve's eyebrows furrow at your remark and you honestly would have laughed at what you had just said if your stubbornness didn't block it from happening. "It was my mission, I am the leader, you are suppose to do as I say because I am looking out for you."
Fuck, he got you there. You stare at him and watch as a knowing smirk forms on his face. He knows he's right. Your nose scrunches, and then a thought passes through your mind that you can't deny.
With that, you sigh in defeat and in one swift motion you pull the zipper at the front of your suit down, letting the form-fitting material fall down your body, leaving you completely naked in front of your lover. "What do you want me to say? Sorry?" You asked, reveling in the way Steve's eyes widen and trail down your body appreciatively. "Let me show you how sorry I am, Captain." Already backing into the bathroom with him hot on your heels.
--
#steve smut#steve rogers smut#assembletheimagines#steve rogers#steve x reader#steve rogers x reader#and best believe he tell you to get on your knees as a way to say sorry#and you do it so well#steve drabble#steve rogers drabble#steve rogers x you
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hey, i love poyt sm🥹 but I was wondering, does omega get along well with Steve’s other friends (not including Bucky/Sam?) and what about any of the popular girls or cheerleaders that hang around the jocks? does that make sense?? anyways, love this story so much!
Hey, this makes perfect sense! Omega is too shy and doesn’t really speak to any of Steve’s friends! As for any girls — poyt!Steve isn’t really friends with any girls as he is very misogynistic and thinks of them as objects. But there are some cheerleaders that hang around with Steve’s jock group so it would be interesting to see how omega would get on with them! (This will kind of be in part 4, but I wanna write a short drabble on it too!)
(This is a drabble for my alpha Steve fic, preying on you tonight)
Warnings: smut, daddy!kink, a/b/o dynamics, dark Steve, bullying
(let’s say this takes place after Steve mated with omega but before she found out she’s pregnant)
“Look how adorable she looks in her little apron!”
“Aww, are those little cherries? So cute!”
“She’s so cute!”
You shuffle uncomfortably on your feet, unsure whether the girls are being genuine or if they’re making fun of you. More often than not, it’s very difficult for you to tell.
You’d been minding your own business, in the kitchen making Steve a sandwich because he’d said he was hungry. And then the doorbell had rung and about five jocks and three girls had entered the house - much to your horror. You couldn’t even escape back up to Steve’s bedroom because you’d have to cross paths with the alphas who were all congregated in the living room.
The girls, on the other hand, had gathered in the kitchen; and you can feel their eyes on you while you concentrate on cutting the crusts off of Steve’s sandwich. One of them addresses you directly:
“Where’d you get the apron from?”
“Uh, Steve got it for me.” You answer awkwardly. Which is true - he’d thrown it at you a few days ago with an oddly excited look on his face, saying something about you looking like a “proper housewife”. You had simply thought the print was pretty, but didn’t miss the glint in his eyes as he’d made you put it on for him.
One of the girls is chewing on a piece of gum, ogling at you as if you’re some kind of specimen on display at a museum.
“So, is Steve like, your boyfriend?”
You purse your lips together, not really knowing what to say but deciding to give the less complicated answer: “I-I... I guess he is.”
“Could we see your mark?”
You cough, feeling your chest tighten up slightly. You’re sensitive about your mark and the memories of how it was given to you. And anyways, it’s personal to you. You really don’t want to show them.
“Oh my God, you can’t just ask people to show their marks!” one of the other girls huffs, and the three of them burst into a fit of giggles while you force yourself to laugh along with them, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.
“You’re lucky. Steve’s probably the best-looking guy in college.” The girl with the gum sighs.
“Totally,” The second girl agrees, “Although Ari could give him a run for his money.”
“So, what’s Steve like in bed?” The third girl asks out of nowhere.
Another question that catches you off-guard, and you feel your cheeks heat up.
“Come on, Priya. Why would you ask her that? As if you don’t already know!” More snide laughter, and now you freeze in the middle of cutting the sandwich into triangles.
“I think we all know.” The gum-chewer giggles, “Oh my gosh, remember Halloween night, when Steve took both of us to his room? Of course, he was with that bitch Sharon at the time, but that never stopped him, and-”
The knife makes a loud cluttering sound when you drop it on the marble counter-top, promptly turning on your heel and leaving the kitchen, sandwich forgotten. You’ve also seemingly forgotten about your own shyness because you walk straight into the living room, past all the jock alphas who leer at you, making a beeline for Steve.
He’s sitting on the couch, legs spread and beer in hand, laughing at some video Bucky’s showing him on his phone. And that’s when you hesitate, wondering whether he’d be nice or mean to you in front of his alpha friends. But you can’t help it, tugging at his sweater sleeve anyways until he looks up at you.
“Can we talk?” You ask softly.
“Aww, look at Stevie’s little girlfriend in her cute little apron!” One of the alphas whose name you don’t remember booms. You cringe inwardly, wishing you’d taken the darn thing off before you’d come in.
Steve smirks, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you down on his lap. And you aren’t kidding when you wish you’d rather bury your head in a hole than be sat on Steve’s lap in a room full of beer-drinking, weed-smoking alphas but here you are.
“You look so sweet, baby.” He whispers in your ear, taking your hand in his and playing with your fingers. But that doesn’t seem to be enough physical contact for him, he grabs your face and presses his lips onto yours, tongue gaining entrance almost immediately as he licks into your mouth.
Eyes wide, you can’t believe he’s just casually making out with you in front of his friends, but you don’t dare push him away unless he gets mad.
“Steve, please, can we talk somewhere private?” You ask against his lips when he pulls away for breath - and immediately you hear booming laughter erupting all around you.
“Talk in private. That’s code for ‘I’m horny, please fuck me.’” A brunette alpha you vaguely recognise from your politics lectures - Andy - guffaws, with Sam and a few others joining in.
“Shut the fuck up, Barber.” Steve frowns, pushing you up to your feet before following suit, his hand fast holding on to yours, “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.”
You keep your head down, letting Steve drag you out of the room and into the nearest bathroom, sighing in relief when he shuts and locks the door behind him. But that relief doesn’t last too long because in an instant, he’s on you.
“I-I need to talk to you,” you say softly, but you’re sure he hasn’t even heard you, your beefy alpha grabs you from below your thighs, picking you up and setting you down on the marble sink, immediately spreading your legs and slotting himself between them.
“Mmm, you’re so hot. I’m happy my friends got to see you in your little apron, busy in the kitchen like a good little omega.” Steve’s bulge presses against your belly and you let out a squeak, his lips sponging wet kisses up your neck while his hands freely explore your body, “Now they know how well I’ve got you trained.”
You lose yourself to his touch for a moment, melting when he cups your face in his hands, almost tender until he yanks you into him, kissing you so fervently, you feel like you’ll pass out.
Meekly, you push against his chest, “Steve. Please. I just wanted to talk about one thing.”
Steve’s lips drag down back to your neck, back to his favourite spot - your mark. Licking over it repeatedly, kissing it, grazing his teeth over it till you’re jelly in his arms, he smirks against your skin, “Talk then. I’m listening.”
“Well... I... I was talking to those girls back in the kitchen...”
“Mm, yeah? What did you talk about?” His hand slips underneath your blouse, infinitely more interested in what’s under there as he squeezes your breast roughly.
You try to focus on the issue you want to bring up, hoping to ease into it... “Well, first they asked me if I wanted to go out with them this weekend.” (This was true, they had asked you this when they’d first come in.)
“Oh? And what did you say?” Steve draws back, blue eyes finally making contact with yours, fingers deftly grabbing the hem of your skirt and flipping it upwards along with your apron.
“I said I would have to ask your permission first.”
Steve kisses you again, “Good girl. You can’t go, by the way.”
Him forbidding you to go out with the girls doesn’t bother you in the least - you’d much rather stay at home with Steve and Steve Junior than spend an entire night guessing whether you’re the butt of the girls’ jokes and whether they’re being genuine with you or not.
“They... They also said that...” You pause, mulling over how to say it. “They said that last Halloween...”
Steve’s already refocused his gaze between your legs, yanking your panties down past your thighs.
“Have you slept with them?” You blurt out, cheeks heating up even more.
There’s cold fire and confusion behind his blue eyes as they narrow down at you, “What?”
“They said they already know what you’re like… in bed, because they’ve been with you — slept with you — before.” The more you say it out loud, the tighter your chest becomes, and you haven’t even noticed it but you’ve got your hands clenched into fists.
“Mmhm,” Steve goes back to kissing you, not giving your words any importance except this time you turn your head to the side.
“Steve, please. I just want to know—”
“I don’t remember. Maybe. Probably.” He’s acting too casual, continuing to make out with you, forcibly capturing your lips between his.
You feel a sharp pang in your heart at his answer. And what follows next is perhaps a tad over-dramatic, but it’s like you can’t help yourself. You sniffle softly, reaching up to wipe your eyes.
Steve stops short, looking down at you incredulously, “Are you… Are you crying?”
“N-No.”
He gathers you in his arms, carrying you over and sitting down on the covered toilet seat with you in his lap. And by this point, you can’t help the tears that trickle down your face. And you can’t understand why. You always knew Steve had a reputation for sleeping with a lot of girls — all the alphas on the football team did.
But hearing those girls say they’d slept with your alpha… right in front of your face! And hearing Steve confirm it… Suddenly, you want nothing more than to trudge upstairs and get into your nest and cuddle with Steve Junior. Your emotions have been all over the place lately, and you can’t seem to figure out why...
“My little baby omega,” Steve coos, “are you jealous?”
Another sniffle, “I know I have no right to be. It’s in the past. And it’s not like I was a virgin when I... when we...” Your voice trails off when his face flashes with annoyance, his grip tightening on your arm and fingers digging into your flesh.
“What have I told you about mentioning him?”
“Sorry, alpha.”
He loosens his grip, “I barely remember fucking any of those girls, so they probably weren’t that good in the sack anyways.” He brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ear and stroking your head like you’re his pet. “Baby, they’re all worthless sluts - not like you, you’re wife material.”
Wife material. Why does that compliment make the omega inside you want to spontaneously combust with happiness? But like spiderwebs lurking in every dark corner, the doubts creep into your head to combat the light-heartedness you feel because of his praise.
“You used to call me a slut.” You say quietly.
Steve huffs, brushing blond strands away from his forehead, “I already told you... I did that to keep you safe, to keep all those other alpha dickheads away from you.” He cups your face in his hands, making those butterflies in your stomach awaken again, “They would’ve taken advantage of you, baby.”
Believe him? Don’t believe him? You don’t know what to think, but it’s better not to think at all, better to just focus on his lips that are back to kissing your neck. That sensitive spot where your mark is - his favourite spot - and you throw your head back and whimper softly when he grazes his teeth against your gland.
But you can’t get the sinking feeling out of your tummy, this sinking feeling that’s been brewing inside you ever since those girls came into the kitchen and started speaking to you. Once more, you risk Steve’s wrath by pulling away.
“H-How many girls have you slept with?” The question comes out in a timid, weak tone. You’ve never asked him anything this forwardly before. In fact, you don’t ask Steve too many questions anyways, because he either ignores them or changes the subject.
“I don’t know.”
You gape at him. “Y-You don’t know?”
You really don’t understand what’s up with your emotions because this news brings on a fresh wave of tears – because I don’t know probably means his number is in the double digits – or triple, even! You swallow harshly, unable to ignore the lump in your throat. So many girls – all of them probably prettier than you, sexier than you, more refined, ore knowledgeable about pleasure… And the list goes on and on and on.
“Stop crying,” Steve orders you stiffly, pressing his lips to yours, tongue swiping against your mouth slowly, “Or don’t, actually. It turns me on when you cry. See?” He grabs your hand, placing it on top of his hard crotch. But you’re not in the mood, despite his scent, despite his touch, despite everything.
“Wanna go upstairs.”
“Mm, but the guys won’t be able to hear me fuck you if we go upstairs.”
You bury your head in his shoulder, wishing you had Steve Junior to cuddle with because Steve himself only has a one-track mind. How could you ever have expected him to understand, to comfort you? What had you expected?
“Please. Wanna go to bed. Steve, please.” Again, you swipe at your eyes as tears somehow continue to well inside of them.
“Hey,” He cups your face with both his hands this time, stroking your cheek in the way that only he knows how to do, in a way that makes you melt into him despite anything, “I told you – those girls meant nothing to me. You’re my one and only. You’re the one I’m gonna knock up, my omega who’s gonna have my babies. You should be happy.” He wipes your tears with his thumbs, the act surprisingly gentle although his words still confuse you.
He's got about a hundred explanations and a hundred excuses, and why is it that you believe each one? Are they excuses? Or maybe he’s being genuine now? He’s being so sweet – well, as sweet as Steve can get. You bite your lip; wondering why alphas like Steve don’t come with a manual, a manual explaining his intentions because damned if you’re ever able to.
Believe him! The omega inside you screeches, and you find yourself biting your lip again.
Steve frowns, “Don’t bite your lip. Or I’ll bite it for you.” And with that, he rips your apron off you, cherry print rags on the floor as he begins to pop the buttons of your blouse, one by one. And that’s when you smell a fresh whiff of hot summer days and freshly mown grass and that woody, musky scent that has you going weak.
Alpha is good, alpha chose you. Not them. You. You, you, you! The omega inside you chants.
Steve’s tongue is tantalising as he licks up your salty tears from your face, pushing your bra strap down your shoulder, “I’m gonna fuck you right up against the bathroom door, omega. That way they’ll all hear it, hear you scream for me, know who you belong to. The girls will hear it too, and you want that, don’t you?”
You squirm, suddenly feeling hot all over, emotions washing away as quickly as they’d rained over you. Now, all you can feel is his thick dick underneath you, straining against his jeans and poking up against your ass, as if promising to fuck you good.
“Answer me, omega. You want those girls to hear me wreck your little baby pussy, don’t you?” He grabs your hair, twisting your head backwards and pressing his forehead against yours, “I know you do. Because I know you...”
You feel your pussy throb, and you can’t help it when you fervently begin to return his kisses, letting him pick you up and walk you across the bathroom and up against the door, just like he’d promised.
“Done being an emotional little cry-baby?” His tone dances between cruel and condescending, but for tonight it seems like you’ve given up trying to understand him - not when his touch feels so good. And now the source of your tears is the overwhelming pleasure you feel, and Steve licks them up readily.
“Cry some more, sweet omega. You know daddy loves it when you cry.”
THE END! Tbh, idk about this! i just wanted to write more and explore more about this pair, especially in the one month they’re together that we kind of gloss over in part 3!! None of this really advances the plot of course, it’s just a long drabble, and i’m not sure why i wrote it except that i just... wrote it. idk! please do tell me what you think!!! i know many of you probably expected smut but... this pairing is very interesting to me and i love writing them when they talk!! okay, i’ll shut up now.. please let me know what you thought!!
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#poyt drabble#poyt ask#steve drabble#Chris evans#Chris evans x reader#x reader#Steve rogers fanfiction#dark steve rogers
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Recovering from sunburn with Steve 👀👀
Thank u bby <3 Cute lil domestic moments with slightly bitchy Steve, about 600 words, no gendered terms for reader, but it is referenced that they wear heels!
Send me your fav summer traditions or prompts and I’ll write you a lil blurb!
It would be humorous watching Steve move about your vacation rental if you couldn’t tell how much pain every step was causing him. The slow, practiced steps, a wince with each one. The low, squatting stance. Arms held carefully stiff and away from his body. Despite his pain, the resemblance to Yosemite Sam still pulls a discreet giggle from your throat.
“Yeah, laugh it up now,” he grits, finally reaching the couch and eyeballing it cautiously. Eventually he decides that his desire to get off of his feet beats out the fear of contact and sits gingerly on the cushion. If anything, you hope that the cool leather is soothing against the hot, angry sunburn. Finally situated in a somewhat comfortable position, he fixes a playful glare on you and continues, “but when you get a little tipsy at dinner or your feet start hurting in your heels later, guess who won’t be able to carry you back to the car. Sunburnt Steve, that’s who. You’re on your own, kid.”
“Hey!” You protest, lifting a hand to playfully smack him in the chest, but think twice and opt for a pout instead. “It’s not my fault you fell asleep on the beach! And I would never count on you to-” His dry stare, heavy head rolling against the back of the couch, is enough to stop you in your tracks. It’s true, he’s carried or piggy-backed you back to the car on more than one occasion throughout your relationship, more times than ever since you arrived at your beach vacation with the gang just a few days ago. You both share a chuckle at his accusation, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of his skin and there is a hesitance to his laugh. You do feel bad for him after all, so you tell him to sit tight and head to the bathroom to seek out a first aid kit. The little packets of aloe provided aren’t going to fix everything, but it’s a start at least, and you make a note to buy more on your way to dinner tonight. Back in the living area, you gesture for Steve to lean forward and say, “alright, Harrington, shirt off, c’mon.”
He does as requested, but not without comment.
“Whoa, babe, I mean I’m flattered but I don’t think I’m in any state to-”
“You want this aloe or not?” You interrupt with a cheeky smile and roll your eyes.
“Yes please.”
Taking a seat back on the couch, you gesture for him to settle in between your legs, which he does with a little bit of struggle. Wasting no time, you work the gel into the angriest patches of his skin, the tension melting from him as you do. He’s putty in your hands as you try to soothe the sting of his burn, working the aloe into sharp shoulders, down toned biceps and over taut pecs. By the time you’ve finished with your impromptu massage, his head lolls into your lap with a relaxed sigh.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss into your exposed thigh, just below the denim hem of your shorts. The ghost of his laugh tickles the sensitive skin there when he adds, “I take it back, I’ll suffer the pain to carry you ‘round tonight.”
You hum, threatening your fingers into his hair to tilt his gaze up at you. “You don't have to,” you coo, bending your back at an odd angle for a quick upside-down Spiderman kiss. “I’ll just be in pain with you.”
He rolls his eyes, “how romantic.”
#steve drabble#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington/reader#steve harrington/you#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#stranger things reader insert#stranger things imagine
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Steve was well acquainted with blood.
As a kid he learnt quickly how to clean his own cuts when he fell off his bike and where the bandaids were when he got a papercut. No-one else was around so it was his problem.
When he started basketball he got plenty of hits being knocked around the court, at least swimming didn'teave him bloody.
Jonathan was the first time he'd actually been in a fistfight, it was also the first time he treated a black eye, first time he tasted blood in his mouth.
When the kids patched up his bloody face with mismatched bandaids after Billy it reminded him of his scrapped knees as a kid.
He doesn't remember much of it but Robin told him how much blood covered him when the Russians brought him back unconscious. He swore that he tasted blood for weeks.
By the time he was being attacked by bats he was used to being covered in blood every year. He could feel the blood dripping down his back, felt the stickiness of the makeshift bandage as it did little to stop the bleeding.
So after all this you'd think Steve would be used to blood. But Steve doesn't think he could've ever been prepared to see the amount of blood that covered Eddie. The blood that soaked into the seats of the RV. The blood that soaked into his clothes. The blood that soaked into his hands and under his nails.
The blood that remained where Eddie didn't.
Steve would scrub his hands for weeks later. His hands felt stained with blood when really they were just scrubbed raw. At the funeral his shirt felt coated in sticky blood. His dreams more nightmares were filled with Dustin's screams and Eddie's blood. Steve would bite at his nails to get out Eddie's blood that wasn't there until they were bloody too.
Eddie's blood had long since run cold, but it would haunt Steve forever.
#sorry but yall had gotten to comfy with the angst#sorry basil i couldnt help it#stranger things#stranger things s4#steve harrington#st4#eddie munson#stranger things season 4#eddie munson stranger things#steve centric#drabble#steve drabble#blood#tw blood#angst#steddie
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POV: You just met Steve at the arcade for your first date. You were running late and come bursting in, apologising while trying to catch your breath because you were literally sprinting to get here. Steve just smiles at you and tells you it's okay. He thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, even when you're out of breath and a little flustered from worrying. He says he really likes your outfit. He does. He thinks you look amazing. You giggle and blush as you notice the way he's looking at you.
He really hopes this date goes well. Because he really likes you. A lot.
#steve harrington#steven harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington pov#steve harrington stranger things#screaming crying throwing up#steve fluff#steve drabble#steve blurb#steve harrington is a sweetheart#going on a date with steve harrington#steve harrington takes you on a date#joe keery#he needs to stop being so boyfriend
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SO, i’m not the best writer, but seeing your latest post abt stevie and the necklaces spurred this ramble so enjoy <33 also hope u have a good day and sorry for dropping this in ur inbox <33
•••
steve harrington is 100% the type to put your necklaces on for you. rings too. bracelets, anklets, really any-freaking-thing as an excuse to put his hands on you (in a not total skeeze-ball way thank you very much)
he likes that you rely on him, for the little things most he thinks, when you smile at him and move your hair out of the way for him to clasp your necklace on.
the necklace itself is a dainty thing he bought you for your year anniversary, and even if steve himself thinks you deserve something better, it’s your favorite piece of jewelry and you refuse to take it off other than to shower and sleep. (granted you used to sleep in it, before you realized it would cause your hair to tangle so you stopped).
and one day, steve is surprised to see you hunched at your dresser sobbing- on a day where it feels like nothing can go right and this one thing is weighing too heavily on your shoulders. and when he pulls you back to see what you’re holding, he has to stifle a laugh at the tangled chain that you’re cradling as if it was going to slip through your fingers.
and so, as calmly as steve harrington can ask (which is pretty calmly he likes to think) he asks for a pair of tweezers, and for you to go wash your face off in the sink and take a breather. you do that, of course, because who wouldn’t listen to steve harrington, who talks to you in moments of panic as if he’s scared you’re going to leave. (and he’ll never tell you, but he makes wishes at night that you won’t do just that).
and when you come back, face clean of tear tracks and actually being able to breathe- you feel silly. silly that you let a necklace of all things cause a full on come-apart. and so you’re nervous when you go back into your room, because you know your boyfriend is in there and you’re painfully afraid that he’s going to make fun of you and…and…
oh.
you’d seen steve harrington doing a bunch of domestic things, too many to count on both hands. from grocery shopping, to babysitting, to wearing a cheesy apron and grilling, you’d felt like you’d seen it all.
but to walk in and see him, big hands with your neon pink tweezers between his fingers, balancing your silly tangled up necklace on his knee as he sat cross legged on your bed… you think you fall all over again.
you sit in silence while he gets it untangled, and when he does, you shift your hair out of the way and allow him to clip it on for you. he presses soft kisses on the nape of your neck after, even when you murmur you’re apology of blowing it out of proportion and you’ll understand if he thinks your silly.
steve harrington doesn’t respond to that.
he wants to say, and he thinks he will later, when you’re cuddled together in bed, nose to nose- that nothing you do is silly. that how you react is normal because your human, and he loves you so much that his chest aches.
but he doesn’t say that now, not when your voice is heavy with what could become tears. instead, steve simply takes your left hand, spins that little ring you have on your thumb (and totally doesn’t picture a ring on your fourth finger thank you very much), and asks if you want to go on a date with him that night to get your mind off the bad.
and when you agree, because you definitely agree, steve simply smiles at you- and uses your necklace to bring your lips to his.
says ur not the best writer and then drops the most beautiful shit in my inbox 😭
like?? god, getting so used to him doting on you in that way that you just pull your hair aside, it’s instinct now, because steve is always there n ready to help?
calming you down, fixing the necklace, picturing a ring on the fOURTH FINGER!!! and offering the date to distract u from the shit day 😩 god FUCK and USING THE NECKLACE TO PULL YOU IN FOR A KISS? EVIL!!! U ARE EVIL FOR SAYING THIS!!! HE SO FUCKING WOULD he’s so boyfriend i’ll die, i’d do unspeakable things to make him mine
thank u so much for dropping this splendid gift into my inbox it made my bad week ASTRONOMICALLY better <3 i enjoyed ur ramble so much & i hope u have the best day MWAH
#did i keep this just to reread it over a dozen times? maybe so 🥰#he is The Most Boyfriend#also him thinking u deserve a better necklace? like yes he’s the type that goes window shopping every time he’s out#just in case!#also means he can be like ‘you should wear that nice green ring to match with ur fit!’ like he’s got them all categorised in his brain#completely involuntarily#he just loves all things you <3#long post#steve x reader#ruby talks#asks#steve drabble#it’s long enuf to be a drabble me thinks#answered
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Hi! I love your writing🫶🏻 Could you please do 3 with Steve? With she/her pronouns and Steve being the injured one?
Send me prompt numbers
3. MEDIC: FOR ONE MUSE TO SHOW UP AT THE OTHERS DOOR INJURED
The rapid knocking on your door startled you. Everything had been so silent and then out of nowhere the pounding had started. To your knowledge, you weren’t expecting visitors, but it seemed like that was changing now. You pulled it open to find Steve standing there, hand clutching his torso, face scrunching up in a wince every now and then.
“What the hell happened?” you asked, pulling him inside carefully. He looked like he had just been to hell and back, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do.
“Some bats. Lot to explain, not enough energy,” he breathed. Those words didn’t help you in any way possible. If anything it actually just made you even more confused. You didn’t think you had ever seen a single bat in Hawkins, let alone ones that could harm your boyfriend like this. “Need to lay down,” he muttered.
“Okay, yeah.” You were panicking, big time, uncomfortable with how calm he actually seemed to be compared to you. His many visible injuries were all that ran through your mind as you helped him limp to your couch, making sure he was comfortable when laying him down.
Once he was relaxed, at least as well as he could be, eyes falling closed and a breath falling past his lips, you really took the time to examine him. The small cuts on his face, the dirt brushed across his cheeks, and the violent mark around his neck that kept drawing your eyes towards it. After a while it seemed he knew your eyes were on him, even when he couldn’t see you. “I know it looks bad, but–”
“I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things 4#steve drabble
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(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧
Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡
cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.
A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.
“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.
“I wanna see Max.”
“She has to be here somewhere.”
That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.
Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.
Steve frowns at you worriedly.
“Who died?” asks a new voice.
You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.
“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.
“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”
“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.
“Is it awful?” you ask.
“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.
“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.
“Dustin. He’s outside.”
Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”
He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.
“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.
You school your impression. “Like what?”
“Like you like him.”
You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”
She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”
“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.
“Looks like something. Are you dating?”
“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”
“He was touching you a lot.”
“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.
“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.
“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—
“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.
You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.
“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.
Oh, boy, you think.
As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.
From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.
Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.
“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”
“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.
“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”
“Steve.”
“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”
“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.
“What?” he asks.
His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles
You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”
“I sounded weird?”
“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”
You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.
“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.
“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”
Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.
“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”
You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.
After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?
“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.
You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.
“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.
He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.
“You were in the way of the light.”
“That what it was?”
“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.
“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”
Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.
“It’s good.”
“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”
He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.
Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!
You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.
You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.
He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.
You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.
“You okay?” he whispers.
You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.
Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.
The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.
A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.
“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“I really like you, Steve.”
He stares at you. “…But?”
“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”
“I thought…” And of course he did.
“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”
He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”
“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.
“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.
“Yeah.”
Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”
“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”
“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”
“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”
“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.
“I like you too!” he says loudly.
A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”
You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.
“You okay?” he asks tightly.
“I’m sorry.”
He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”
You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”
He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”
You nod vehemently.
Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”
—♡—
The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.
A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.
“I think I might melt.”
“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.
“You can be my parasol.”
“Your what?”
“It’s a sun umbrella.”
“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.
You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.
He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”
If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.
“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.
He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.
“No… I’m thinking.”
“Nothing good ever comes of that.”
“I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.
You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.
“It’s a question.”
He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.
“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”
“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”
He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”
“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”
His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.
“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.
“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.
His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.
You tip your head aside to catch your breath.
“Better late than never,” you joke.
Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#stranger things#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington drabble
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+quick idea!
what abt fuckboy!james/fuckboy!steve who’s so used to the idea of girls wanting to stay after they sleep w him, but with you, he wants to stay. you get up to leave and get your clothes on before he’s making up dumb excuses and whining with his little puppy dog gaze all like “well you don’t have to leave :(“
and ur just there smirking and trying not to laugh before u climb back in bed w his little clingy self
Thanks for requesting <3
Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 699 words
Steve looks nice when he’s relaxed like this. There’s no carefully curated uptilt to his lips, and the muscles around his eyes are at ease, finally free of that dumb, smolder-y squint he does. You would've never denied that Steve is handsome, but he actually looks quite pretty when he’s not trying so hard. His face has gone soft against his pillow, limps plump and skin golden in the buttery morning light streaming through his curtains.
You don’t intend to stick around to see that softness melt away. You’re quiet and efficient in changing into the clothes you’d worn the night before, leaving your shoes off for now so your steps remain soundless on Steve’s bedroom floor. You find some mouthwash under his sink and decide that’ll have to do in lieu of brushing your teeth for now, fixing your hair and double-checking that there’s no makeup leftover under your eyes before exiting the bathroom.
Steve’s sitting up in bed.
“Morning,” you greet him.
“Morning.” He stretches, arching his back until it cracks. He tilts his head as his eyes focus on you. “You’re already dressed?”
“Yup.” You sit down on the edge of the bed to put your shoes on. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”
“No problem.” He’s doing that stupid eye-squint thing again, albeit a more dulled, tired version, as he rakes his gaze showily up your body. It’s work to not roll your eyes. “I hope you had a good time.”
“I did,” you confirm, finishing the knot on your second shoe. You stand. “Cool if I leave the front door unlocked on my way out, or did you want to follow me and lock it?”
Steve’s eyebrows cinch, and the squint takes on an unfamiliar nature. “You know, I’m not the type of guy to kick girls out first thing in the morning. You can stay for breakfast, if you want.”
You give him an appeasing smile. “Thanks, but I’ve got food at home.”
He sits up straighter, covers slipping down to reveal the waistband of his boxers. “Don’t you need a ride or something?”
“I can take the bus.”
“Well, I could drive you if you’d just give me a second to get up.”
“Steve.” You don’t bother hiding the bemusement from your expression. “I really don’t mind taking the bus.”
Steve pauses with one leg out of the bed and one still in, and you let your gaze linger on his naked thigh for just a moment before forcing your eyes back up to his face. It’s as confused as you imagine yours has to be, but you could almost swear the look in his eyes is tinged with hurt. “What’s the rush?” he asks you. “Do you have somewhere to be or something?”
“No,” you answer with a shrug. “There’s just no point in me sticking around here, and I figured I’d get out of your hair.”
“You’re not in my hair.”
“I’m not?”
“No.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, one side pressed flat from being smushed against his pillow. You sort of want to stick your fingers in there and ruffle it. “It’s not…you’re not bothering me, or anything.”
You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s good.”
“Just—” Steve blows out a breath. He seems puzzled, and he also seems like being puzzled is frustrating for him. This doesn’t feel like the insouciant, self-possessed boy who’d led you into his bed the night before. “You don’t have to rush out. You could stay for a little while.”
You cock your hip, giving him an appraising look. “And do what?”
“I dunno,” Steve says, and it occurs to you that he really is at a loss. He doesn’t seem used to having to ask for people to stay. “We could have breakfast, if you want. I could make you an omelet.” That squint is back, like this should be enticing to you.
You huff a laugh but set your bag down, heading for the kitchen. “Steve Harrington, I do not believe for one second that you know how to make an omelet. How about you show me where the supplies are, and I’ll cook us something good.”
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𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 - 2/2
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨
pairing: dark!ex-boss!steve rogers x fem!reader
WORDCOUNT: 4.6k warnings: dubious consent ! - sexually naive reader, rough p in v, oral sex [m + f receiving] - height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader] -, misogyny, sexism: breeding kinks -daddy kink, captain kink. choking, pregnant!reader: spanking, gaslighting- especially shein at the end LOL - emotional abuse, assimilation, kidnapping slight mention - steve gets his happy ending
PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS CONTENT IS CONSIDERED MATURE. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.
summary: Once Captain America's assistant, you're now the up-coming mother of his child. After Steve's jealousy finally becomes out of hand, you snap at him, only to realise that's the very last thing you should do to a Super Soldier. He decides that your defiance lights a match to spark the fire of you being a brilliant mother.
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It’s not like Steve to get this riled up. It’s just difficult watching you discuss initiative with a rookie rather than paying attention to him. He watches as your small hand falls down to brush over your stomach, wondering if your fingers splay over it as a means to reassure yourself that the baby growing inside of you is okay.
Jealousy isn’t a good look on Steve. He’s not a complete airhead - he knows dames usually don’t like it when a man gets stupidly possessive and starts trying to control them, but he just can’t help it. You’re his - literally. Not only are you literally his personal assistant, but you’re also his fiancé and the mother of his child.
“Sweetheart, don’t you think it’s time we get home now?” His voice booms across the training room, his thick hands coming up to massage your shoulders softly. “This much standing can’t be too good for the baby.”
You're terrible at analysis, Steve realizes. You hadn't even noticed he had approached you - evident by how his touch makes you flinch. He feels your nerves jolt beneath him, but to the regular human eye, nothing appears wrong. Steve admits that you’ve grown incredibly wary of his touch recently, only engaging in displays of affection when around other people. In the comfort of your shared home, though, it’s like when he touches you, your body slithers with disgust.
“I am growing slightly tired.” You throw an apologetic smile over at the rookie you were speaking to, all whilst leaning into Steve's touch willingly. He doesn’t miss the prickles of goosebumps that ripple up your skin, the fear which prickles at the back of your neck. He frowns - has his touch ever been unloving, unkind? “I think it’s best I go home and rest up."
Your mutter a few apologies, which forces an eye roll from Steve. Why are you apologizing to people who aren't even worth your time? Frustrated, he begins to steer you out of the compound quickly, irritated as you shuffle away from his touch as though his mere skin is poison.
The drive back to your shared home is silent. Steve is seething as he drives, his grip on the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are beginning to turn white. He’s tried to be patient and understanding - he really has. But he’s blessed you and he doesn’t understand why you’re so hell-bent on rejecting him and then repenting as though he's a curse. You’re throwing tantrums similarly to what a toddler would, sitting next to him in silence and stewing in unspoken anger, and Steve can’t help but feel slightly hurt by your actions.
Is he not good enough for you? Is that it? Or have you grown tired of him? He has been more than kind, allowing you to still attend work despite the fact you’re growing his child. He has bent and adapted so you do not break, shrugging away every single urge to force tradition upon you.
Perhaps what you need is a sense of tradition. Maybe that will stop the fiery defiance you display, both in public and at home.
“We’re home.” Steve’s voice booms loudly in the car, and you stir from your position, your eyes fluttering open at him.
“Good. I’m tired,” you sigh heavily, forcing yourself out of the car quickly before Steve could come around and open your door for you. “Today’s been exhausting.”
“How so?” Steve almost sneers, grabbing your bag from the car and slamming the driver’s side door shut loudly. “All you do all day is make appointments for me and flirt with other men. It can’t be that difficult.”
You groan, waiting for Steve to unlock the front door before following him into your home. “I don’t flirt with other men, Steve. Stop being so delusional."
You drawl his name out with such annoyance it makes Steve’s jaw twitch. “Really? So you weren't all over that rookie earlier today?” He turns away in annoyance, flicking the light to the living area on. The house keys sway in his fingers, and he chuckles dryly, “give me a break, sweetheart. You were practically begging him to fuck you.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing exasperatedly. “So what if I was begging him to fuck me, Steve?" Your hands fall to your stomach, holding it protectively whilst staring at him with furrowed brows.
Holding something he made.
He stills. “Excuse me?”
The calmness in Steve’s tone makes your blood run cold. You try to ignore how he stops still in the archway of the living area; how his large frame tenses and his fists clench. You suddenly feel as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, and you stumble out (in one last act of pitiful defiance), “so what if I was begging him to fuck me, Steve?“
The drawl of his name is what finally makes him snap. It’s like he sees red - like he can’t believe how you’re actually treating him, despite everything that he’s done for you. Steve’s palm is quickly splayed across your throat, and he growls, sounding similar to that of a wild animal as he begins to try and force you to your knees.
It's not like you don't go down without a fight. You try to resist, somewhat, anyway, but you can’t, because he is so, so much stronger than you are and it’s fucking scary. His hands are so strong that they diminish any force of fight you had within you, as trying to resist him makes you actually feel like your shoulders are going to snap. You whimper pathetically as you kneel before him, staring up at his pupils, which are blown and blackened.
You know better than to irritate him by now, so why do you keep doing it?
“You’re mine,” Steve snaps, his blue eyes icy as he pulls his zipper down. The sharp noise makes you flinch beneath him, trying to shuffle away, but the grip he has on the nape of your neck is tight and holds you in place. “You must be fucking crazy if you think I’d ever let another man touch you. If you think I’ll ever let another man look at you again without consequence.”
His fingers grab at your jaw, forcing your mouth open and you cry out. Steve is visibly angry - furious is perhaps a better word, given the fact he’s practically shaking as grips your face whilst also aggressively pulling his thick, hard cock out of his boxers. “You’re going to have to learn how to put that mouth of yours to better use, doll. It's wasted on those shitty opinions of yours, anyway."
Hands roughly grabbing at your hair, pulling your face towards his cock, you have not much choice but to take him in your mouth. It’s intrusive - terribly so, and Steve manhandles you so roughly it makes your tears prick with tears, but it shamefully sends a throbbing to your pussy. You clench your legs together as you take him, choking as he slides in and out of your mouth until you’re a blubbering mess below him, spit and tears painting your cheeks as he fucks your throat relentlessly.
“Who do you belong to?” He grunts out, pulling so hard at your hair your head pulses. Steve’s hips stutter as you choke around him, your eyes doe-like and wide, covered in wet mascara. “Who the fuck do you belong to?”
“Y-you, Steve,” you choke out as he pulls out of your mouth with an uncomfortable POP!, relishing in the breaths he’s allowing you. “I belong to you.”
Steve's cock is so big it's actually painful. Your throat constricts around his cock as he forces your head down again, grumbling out, “I bet that rookie couldn’t treat you like this. I bet he couldn’t fuck you full of his babies like I have, doll.”
You whine beneath him as he continues to use your throat. Steve is driven entirely by his own pleasure, tiring quickly of your pathetic crying around his cock. With angry thrusts of his hips, Steve watched you gag around him, his cock twitching in your throat as you take all of him in; every inch, and his length is actually somewhat visible in your neck. And it’s driving him crazy- so crazy that he can’t hold back anymore, his rough hands grasping at your hair as he finishes, painting your tongue with his cum.
Steve watches as you choke and thrash against him in an attempt to get away, because his cock and his cum is stuffing your mouth in ways it’s never been stuffed before. It’s suffocating you, and blackness pricks at the corner of your vision - you’re just about to pass out before you Steve mercifully pulls his cock out of your mouth with a disgusting squelch and delivers you a hard slap.
The stinging from his hand sends a sheepish insatiable throbbing to your core that you know will never be satisfied. The tingle which tickles your core makes you clench your thighs, knowing no matter how hard you repent, tonight he will not forgive you.
“This throat is mine to use,” he seethes, his tip still leaking as he presses his cock against your cheek, satisfied with the discomfort that flutters throughout your features. “Say it.”
“This throat is yours to use,” your bottom lip quivers, your eyes spilling tears, some of which fall on Steve’s cock. And it’s shameful how wet you are - how the heat between your legs has grown uncomfortable and how you’re certain your pussy is slick with arousal because somehow it’s all you can focus on. You melt into a weeping puddle, your hands tiny compared to Steve’s cock, desperately trying to push his length away during your tantrum.
It doesn’t work. If anything, it makes him much so much harder - his cock throbs against the skin of your face, and you sniffle as he speaks. “Good girl,” Steve’s praises, his fingers curling in your hair, watching as your eyebrows contort in pain as he tugs gentler than you deserve. “Look at your pretty little face. Covered all over with cum and tears.” He coos, smoothing your hair down gently, a soft pang of love throbbing within his heart.
Your face flushes red, and you blink up, your wet, long lashes batting up at him ridiculously. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, your throat incredibly sore from his invasion, your hands desperately clasping at his thighs, and he watches you in amusement, unable to bite back the excitement as you brush your lips over his length meekly. “Please forgive me, Steve, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know if I can, honey,” he tells you, his big hands making gentle, loving motions in your hair. It’s a sharp contrast to the aggressiveness of his touch moments beforehand, but you bask in it nonetheless. “You were flirting with that rookie, baby, you said you wanted to fuck him. How am I supposed to forgive you for that?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to fuck him!” you whine, and Steve shakes his head.
“That’s what I heard, baby.”
You sniffle, and Steve shakes his head. Why do you have to lie to him? He doesn’t like making you upset - he certainly doesn’t like hurting you. His pretty girl, sitting in front of him with raw, red knees and an even rawer throat, whose ass is yet to be spanked until the pain renders you unable to move. He hates it, and he wishes this pain on nobody, especially not his little girl. Steve is meant to protect you, not hurt you. He’s your saviour, the one man in your life you can rely on and trust with all of your secrets, and yet you lie to him, again and again and again.
Steve hates making you upset, but he loves watching you cry. Conflict tugs at him from the inside, his thumb making gentle strokes in your hair as you speak to him. “I’m sorry, I really am,” you finally say, sinking beneath him obediently. “I didn’t mean any of it. It’s - its probably just the hormones.”
Steve hums in agreement. “It probably is, doll, but just in case it isn’t…I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.” He sucks in a breath, muttering, “let’s see how sorry you really are, doll.”
It takes everything in Steve not to finish all over again when he pulls you atop of him and you gasp in shock, his big hands forcing your hips down, and before you’re even aware of it, your walls are sheathed around his cock. Tight - so tight, and wet, too: ridiculously so. Shameful squelching sounds flood the living room as Steve fucks up into you with long, even thrusts.
The mewls that escape your throat as your small fingers dig into Steve's frame makes him want to impregnate you al over again. If he could, he would - your pussy is addicting, gripping him just right. You’re like Goldilocks. Your walls are so tight that you're practically milking his cock for his cum -, and he bites your neck slightly as you shake and tremble against him, your first orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Hot flashes come over you as your core tightens, the coil inside of you snapping- your little legs shake and you hold onto Steve for support, who rides you through your orgasm.
“This pussy is mine,” he practically growls, his fingers clawing around your throat, palm splayed against it uncomfortably. You thrash wildly when he squeezes, but Steve doesn’t care: you don’t deserve him, not at all, not one bit - he is Captain America! He can do what he wants!
“This pussy is yours,” you rasp as his cock nestles against the spongy spot inside of your pussy, your hips desperately rolling to get any source of friction. “Please, Steve! It’s all yours! Wanna cum again! Wanna cum!”
As you cry desperately, your frame pressing up against his, Steve grins, thrusting up into you painfully slow. The motion is enough, though. It sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, and your coil tightens - it grows tighter every single time he moves, the brush of his cock against the insanely sensitive spot inside of you making your legs quiver.
“You love it. I know you love it, sweetheart. Being filled with my baby. It makes you real wet, doesn’t it, doll?" His voice is gentle, and he peppers soft kisses against your neck, eradicating the pain he had left behind earlier.
"Mhm. I love it and I love you, Steve," you agree eagerly, your hands digging into his shoulders, your timid body taking every slow, dragged thrust of his. “I’m so close.”
Your whimpers make his cock twitch inside of you. You sound heavenly - angelic, the gentle moans that slip past your lips making him wish he could just give you his baby all over again. And he will, after you’ve had this one - god, he can’t wait to pump you full of his babies again and again and again. Steve's hands grip your hips gently, his eyes fluttering shut as your velvety walls squeeze him again, so soft and perfect, and he lets out a hearty moan which makes the knot inside of you tighten.
"I want it," you whimper, your nose brushing against his, and you gaze up at him through wet lashes. “Please.”
Your begging makes Steve bloom with pride, and at your words, he thrusts up into you harder. It's not long before you're bouncing quickly atop him, mewls and cries of pleasure slipping past your lips. Your curls fall messily in front of your eyes, and he sucks in a breath at the ecstatic state of you: you’re desperate - so close to your edge, again. Your cheeks are warm and messy, and the sounds of slick bouncing off of the living room walls makes you feel more cockdrunk than you already are.
And then you begin to come undone atop of him.
He does, too. Steve loves it. Your velvet walls squeeze him so tightly that you’re milking him - you take in every drop of his cum, and as his hips still inside of you, Steve places gentle kisses against your nose.
Your big, beautiful eyes stare back at him, your hips juddering against his. You pant, your nails digging into his chest as you steady yourself atop of him. For a second, you can’t believe it - you really let Steve use you again.
But he loves you. And then conflict tugs at you all over again, because he is a good guy, incredibly so! He’s Captain America, his job is literally to protect you - and hasn’t he done exactly that? You’re the most protected person in America right now, considering the fact you’re pumped full of his babies.
“Do you trust me, sweetheart?”
You nod. “I- I do, Steve.” Your voice trembles, leaning your body weight against his, unable to hold yourself up.
“Good girl.” He brushes his nose against yours, smiling as you tremble against him. “That’s all you’ll ever have to do.”
As Steve carries you to bed, tucking you in tightly, he smiles down at you. He’s glad he’s finally changed the locks, and he’s glad that you don’t have one of the new keys.
He can keep you here now until he thinks you’re ready to go. Until you’re ready to accept your place as Mrs. America.
—
What you used to call kidnapping, Steve called assimilation.
You’re not locked in his house, unable to go home, unable to contact any family or friends. No, you’re just in an educational program, learning how to be a perfect housewife. That’s what Steve says, anyway, snickering away to himself as he does.
It’s lonely, and it’s scary. Yet you have nothing to fear, especially when Steve comes home. He wraps you in his arms, engulfing you in his scent, pressing you against his brawny body as though you’re his world. You breathe him in, clutching at him desperately, thankful that he’s coming home safe and sound.
It’s been so long the thought of escaping no longer even brushes your thoughts, but still, Steve wonders if you have realised your place. He can’t risk letting you out if you haven’t - but then again, who would believe you? A pregnant woman whose husband represents all of the stars and stripes?
Still, he can’t help but worry about you. Have you assimilated? Have you learnt? It’s a question that Steve isn’t sure of the answer, but as you curl into his big frame, he believes that you have. Perhaps you’ve finally learnt it’s easier to comply with the Captain’s orders than to defy them.
“How has your day been, Steve?” you ask, nudging your head into the corner of his neck as he presses his palms against your stomach. He’s big and warm, comforting and strong, peppering gentle kisses against your face, praising you for being such a gorgeous girl.
You’re bulging now. Practically ready to give birth at any second. It sends a gentle ache to Steve’s length, his lips pressing lovingly against your stomach. He loves coming home to you. He always has, even when you defied him and cried and begged him to just treat you like a colleague again. It’s selfish - Steve knows it’s selfish - but he just couldn’t ever go back to not knowing you. Now that he has you, he can’t let you go. Ever.
“Work was fine. Buck and I had to do introduction training with some rookies. They didn’t even leave a scratch.” Steve laughs, hooking his fingers in your sweatpants, tugging them down slightly so your entire stomach is on display. “How was your day, mama? Productive?”
It is slightly distracting as Steve kisses your belly. You scrunch your eyebrows in concentration, your fingers resting in his blond locks. “I painted some of the nursery.” You say shyly, face flushing as he begins to murmur sweet nothings to your stomach. “Just did the trims. There was a few deliveries that came, too, but they were too heavy for me to move. Didn’t wanna hurt myself.”
“Good girl.” Steve’s breath fans against your stomach, his head nestling against you, his hands tugging your sweatpants down some more. “I’ll move them after dinner, get ‘em all sorted,” he tells you, eyes eagerly trained in on your panties as your sweatpants drop to the floor.
It takes everything in him not to let an audible groan crawl out of his mouth. The panties you’re wearing are lacy and baby pink - similar to the ones you wore the first time he fucked you, and it sends another terrible ache to his cock. You squeal as Steve presses a soft kiss to your clothed pussy, and he can hear how quickly your heart begins to race in your chest.
“Steve - Steve, stop, I have a question. Steve, it’s serious!” He stops, looking up at you with his big blue eyes which glisten with mischief. You almost don’t want to ask because he seems so giddy - but then you have caught him in a good mood, so you’ll risk it anyway. Your heart tightens in your chest, and your lips set into a frown when you ask, “I was wondering - uh, when I have our baby - could I - could I go back to work?”
Steve reacts like you’ve just slapped him across the face. His smile drops, and his eyebrows furrow. Just when he thinks you've learned, when he thinks he’s finally flushed you out of this ridiculous twenty-first-century feminist bullshit, it drags you back in.
A woman’s place is not at work. It’s in the home.
"Why do you need to work when you have me?" Steve's voice is eerily calm, and his stubble brushes against your inner thigh. You still against him, tense as your fingers stop in his hair, and he can hear your heart gently racing in your chest.
"It's - it's just something I'd like to do. To keep myself occupied."
Steve groans, rubbing his nose into your skin. "You will be occupied, doll. You'll have a baby to raise."
You gnaw at your lip. Steve’s eyes are intense, and he tries not to bark out an order for you to stop. gnawing on your lips. He despises it when you do that. “We could always get a babysitter so I could go back to work,” you suggest, voice faltering when you notice his eyes darken slightly.
"No. It is your job as a mother to look after our children, sweetheart.” He shakes his head. “Besides, I don’t trust anybody else to raise them.”
"Steve-"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Steve grunts from below you, his blue eyes darkening as he gazes up at you. "In fact, I don't want this mentioned again - ever - do I make myself clear?"
“Steve-“
“Do I make myself clear?”
You pout, nodding silently, and Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. His cool breath fans against your thigh, and his thumb doesn’t stop brushing your stomach. He wonders where he ever went wrong with you. You’ve been so good recently, and he ponders on why you have to ruin it. Steve thinks you do it on purpose, rile him up as a way to show one last act of fiery defiance.
He’ll be the bigger person today.
“I can work for us. I can provide for us. Your job as my personal assistant is irrelevant now that you’re carrying our baby.” Steve peppers another gentle kiss against your clothed pussy, and you shudder, your eyes fluttering shut slightly as his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, gently beginning pulling them down. “You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything you’ve ever needed. Put your faith in me, doll, that’s all I ask.”
“Okay, Steve.” Your throat feels tight when you swallow, your knees buckling slightly as Steve’s tongue licks a stripe up your pussy. It sends you by surprise - a hot white flash shoots up through your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair.
“You're soaking, doll,” he murmurs as he parts your thighs with his hands, pressing gentle kisses against your heat. It does feel good - Steve's entire focus is you, and he gently rolls his tongue against your nub, circling his tongue from your clit to your hole and then back up to your clit. "Do you just love the thought of having my babies and taking care of them, baby? Does it get you as riled up as it does me?”
It's embarrassing that Steve's words make your pussy throb. It's even more embarrassing that he knows, a satisfied smirk painting his lips as he dips his tongue into your sweet nectar again. His tongue darts around your clit, and your knees wobble slightly at the action, your hands gripping onto him for support. "Roll against my face, baby, it's okay. I know you want to." His words of encouragement make you mewl, and you do just that - roll your hips against his face, your vision going starry as his tongue swirls against your clit perfectly, the stimulation making the knot in your stomach tighten.
"Steve," you whimper out, your eyes fluttering shut as your legs wobble, his large hands coming up to hold them in place. The feeling of his fingers darting across your thighs sends butterflies to your stomach, and you whine as his tongue keeps flicking against you, making sure to hit every angle of yours he knows that you like.
You hate how much he knows you. You hate how he knows that you're about to cum as your legs give way. Steve hums, the vibrations sending shocks to your pussy, your fingers curling in his hair, the grip tight. You see stars, and hot flashes shoot through you - the knot inside of you tightens and tightens until you feel it snap, to which you cry out, flooding Steve's face with your wetness. And he loves it - he fucking loves it, soothing praises escaping his lips as he quite literally licks your clean, his fingers rubbing soft circles on your thighs.
It's terrible how much you ache when he pulls away from you, how much you miss the feeling of his hot breath fanning against your pussy. Steve stands, his head nestling in your neck, his hands rubbing smooth circles against your stomach. You pant against him, still coming down from your high when you hear a timer ding in the distance of your kitchen.
"Dinner's ready," you murmur, looking up at Steve, flushing as his deep blue eyes stare down at you.
"Dessert before dinner. Not my usual go-to," he comments, to which you laugh.
When he enters the kitchen, the table is already set. You both eat with no mention of your old job - it’s like all defiance within you has melted away, opting to believe that Steve is right. Opting to believe that Steve will do right by you.
#steve rogers#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x reader#steve x y/n#marvel avengers#the avengers#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x female reader#chris evans#dark steve rogers x reader#dark steve rogers x y/n#steve drabble#dark steve rogers#captain america#captain america x you#steve rogers series#oneshot#dark chris evans#womnsfw#defiled and dethroned#1k 💕
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Good Girl
warnings: smut, 18+, dirty talk, Steve got a bd, creampie, just filth okay so be advised
a/n: I was trying to work on another thing but I was struggling so I made this blurb instead
tagging: @getwellsoontana @elle14-blog1 @nana1000night @potatothots @sparklybarbarianninja
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His warm big hand rests on the curve of your ass as he sinks slowly into your wet pussy. His thick cock stretching your slicked walls with a low growl and your nails dig into the sheets beneath you from the feeling. “Too big,” you whine and yelp when his hand smacks your ass in response, still pushing more of his length in.
“Don’t lie,” Steve growls and your body trembles as both of his hands wrap around your plush thighs, spreading your knees wider so your ass is presented higher for him. His eyes are focused on your pretty pussy as he bullies his cock in your dripping folds. “You’re taking me so well,” he teases and your arms that are supporting you up on the bed give out when he fills you completely.
Your mind fogs as your walls clench around his length. And a squeal escapes past your lips as Steve grinds his hips against your ass, his fingers digging into your hips. “Your pussy feels so good.” He grumbles and you head drops into your pillow as you moan, your walls fluttering around his cock from his words.
Steve pulls his hips back before sinking back inside your gummy walls. Stealing your breath as he fills you back to the hilt.
His thrusts grow faster which each expert roll of his hips and you feel the warmth in your abdomen begin to grow as he begins to pound into you.
His big hands hold onto your hips, pulling you to meet his rough thrusts, as the sounds of skin slapping against skin resonate through the room. He moves his hips back so only the head of his cock is in and then reaches out, grabbing a hand full of your hair as he pulls your head back causing you to whine. “I want to hear you,” he says and slams back in, his veiny dick hitting the soft spot inside you perfectly.
Your eyes roll back as you gasp, the new angle causing your walls to tremble around his shaft as you soak his cock with a new pool of your essence. “Fuck, Steve-” you stutter incoherently as he continues to abuse your dripping pussy with each stroke.
“You feel good, baby?” He asks and you can’t speak as he thrusts harder, the coil in your abdomen twisting tighter as he grinds his thick head into your sweet spot. He groans as your walls flutter around his girth and wraps his arm around your leg to rub the bundle of nerves between your thighs. Your moans and whimpers growing louder as you push back against him, meeting his thrusts greedily.
Steve knows you’re close, he can feel it with the way your walls choke his cock so he continues to rub messy circles into your clit as his other hand continues to hold a hand full of your hair. This keeps your back arched as he snaps his hips forward harder, gritting his teeth as he feels you grow tighter and tighter around his shaft. “Come on baby,” he encourages you just as the coil in your tummy snaps.
“Cumming- cumming-” you babble, walls squeezing around his length as you gush around his thick cock with a squeal. Your swollen, sensitive walls twitch around his girth as he continues to pound into you. Riding out your orgasm as he gets closer to his own release. “Feels s-so good,” your words come out in a slur and it makes his hips stutter.
“Fuck, gonna cum,” He groans and your pussy throbs around his cock as he twitches inside of you. Hot white ropes of his cum fill your messy pussy as he ruts his dick deeper into your sensitive cunt. His hands holding you in place as he mutters with a deep groan, “such a good girl for me.”
#assembletheimagines#steve smut#steve rogers smut#captain america smut#smut#steve x reader smut#steve rogers x reader smut#steve x reader#steve rogers x reader#captain america x reader#steve x you#steve rogers x you#captain america x you#steve x y/n#steve rogers x y/n#captain america x y/n#steve drabble#captain america drabble#steve rogers drabble#steve blurb#steve rogers blurb#captain america blurb
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Here are a couple of other NSFW vids without drabbles because my intentions are not to hog up your page but to respectfully share my filth. 👉👈😩
Ari giving naive! reader “adult kisses” - (NSFW)
Ari + bondage with the reader - (NSFW)
POYT! Steve + belly bulge & size kink - (NSFW) / (NSFW) / (NSFW)
Dark! Steve touching innocent! reader’s princess parts - (NSFW)
Boss!Steve having his pet (reader) suck him off after a long day of work (NSFW)
- 🕊 anon (my signature from now on ig LMAO)
Okay I’m honestly so touched that you sent me all these and they’re so good and fitting and I can imagine each one so clearly? And you sent more in other ask as well!!! Thank you!!! These inspired me so much 🥵🥵🥵
Warnings: daddy kink, dubcon, breeding kink, wife kink, petplay, degradation, Ari and Steve being dark
Ari giving naive!reader “adult kisses” (x)
I can imagine dbf!Ari doing this with naive!reader. You’ve never had sex before and you’re so excited because Mr. Levinson offers to give you lessons the summer before you move out of your parents’ house. “Now, honey, these are called adult kisses, because only big girls get them.” Ari says gently, cupping your face as his huge dick rubs slowly against your pussy. And you’ve never been this wet before, never knew it was possible to be this wet.
“Daddy, it tingles.” You cry softly, bucking your hips up against his hard cock and moaning when his tip nudges your clit, circling around it before gliding up and down your glistening pussy, gathering your wetness in the process.
“It’s supposed to tingle, honey.” Ari tells you, voice dripping with condescension, “Now, dumb babies like you can’t handle sex — you’d probably cry harder than you are already. Daddy’s gonna take it slow with you, so relax and enjoy your big girl kisses before we start our next lesson.”
***
Ari + bondage (x)
This with older boyfriend Ari and bratty reader! You’ve been misbehaving all day and as a result, Ari bans you from going out with your friends that evening. You throw a tantrum and decide to get ready to go anyways. Ari ties you up and just… wrecks you. He’s usually a soft dom and so level-headed and mature but you bring out the feral animal inside him. “You just think you can do whatever you want, huh?” Ari grips your hair and tugs it so you’re facing him as he pounds you mercilessly from behind, “Think you’re a free piece of ass who can leave the house whenever she wants? Think you don’t need daddy’s permission all of a sudden, huh? Fuckin’ slutty baby… daddy’s gonna ruin you tonight. How do you expect to leave the house when your legs are shaking too much to even walk?”
***
POYT!Steve + belly bulge + size kink (x)
“Th-That’s scary, Steve!” You cry, equal parts stunned and afraid as you stare down at the bulge in your belly, almost seeing the shape of his huge dick through the protruding skin. “That…That can’t be normal!”
Steve had come back from football practice all riled up. Even more so than usual because he’s nearing his rut — you can tell from how much more impatient he is. In about ten seconds flat, he was naked and he’d ripped your dress off too. Now, he’s got you splayed on his lap, his muscular thighs underneath your ass as you lie back against the mattress, eyes wide and cheeks heating at the embarrassing squelching sounds of his huge dick stuffing into your pussy.
“Never had someone as tiny as you,” Steve smirks, and you wonder how he’s controlling himself — going slower than usual as if he wants to admire just how much bigger he is than you, how his cock seems to be tearing your pussy in two, “God, you really are the smallest and sweetest omega on campus. Pussy’s the tightest too. Can’t believe you’re all mine, marked up and practically my wife. Love how you wait for me, baby. How your baby pussy’s always so wet for daddy.”
He presses down on the bulge in your lower tummy, and you squeak at how full you feel. You’ve never ever felt this full — certainly not with Peter. But Steve is so big, both in length and girth, and your poor pussy burns from the intrusion, but you’re so wet for him that all you can do is buck up to meet his thrusts, “Y-Yeah, daddy, waited for you! Made you dinner too, thought you’d be hungry, ah! Fuck!”
“Oh, I’m hungry alright.” He leans down to capture your lips in a ravenous kiss, “I don’t think I can ever get enough of you or your sweet pussy, how you take me so well even though you’re so tiny.” He gives a particularly hard thrust that has you mewling, you can literally feel him in your guts. “Mm, sweet baby. My little omega. Can you feel daddy’s big dick inside your womb, baby? I bet you can. Fuck, gonna knock you up and make you my wife real soon. You’ll see.”
***
Dark Steve touching innocent!reader’s princess parts (x)
Ugh yes, and while he’s doing that he’d make you recite all the rules he’s set for you. And you’re so innocent and kind of dumb, you keep forgetting bits because you’re so distracted by him touching you and making you feel all tingly. And Steve would just be like, “dumb baby, can’t even remember the simplest of things. I guess daddy really is the one who does all the thinking. That’s alright, sweetie. You just look pretty — that’s all you’re good for anyways.”
***
Boss!Steve having his pet!reader suck him off after work (x)
“Such a good kitty,” Steve says, patting your head before tugging your hair harshly and making you choke on his huge dick, his tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly as he fucks your face, “You know daddy’s had a long day, you know your place is on your knees with my dick in your mouth like a good little whore, the perfect pet. Bet your head’s all empty from sucking so much dick. But that’s okay, daddy loves you anyways.”
#omg wow okay#dark steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#ari levinson x reader#steve rogers#ari levinson#chris evans x reader#x reader#nsft links#nsft link#anon#🕊 anon#poyt drabble#chris evans#ari drabble#Steve drabble
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Hi I love your writing!! Could you do some kind of meet cute with new neighbor Steve? Total romantic comedy over-the-top cute but unrealistic type shit.
Hi friend thank you for this, I love ooey gooey stupid little meet-cutes so I had fun with it!! I hope it meets your expectations!
Pairing: Steve/Reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used)
W/C: ~1k
Warnings: Mild nudity (just undies!), language, awkward lil reader.
Having a laundry room in your new apartment building was definitely a privilege, maybe even the best feature the place had to offer. The fact that you didn’t have to lug your washing downtown to the laundromat was initially what sold you on the place. However, it came with its downfalls too…like getting too comfortable in the still-very-public-place that just happened to only be two doors down and across the hall from your apartment.
It was late. Too late to still be up doing chores, but they needed to be done unless you wanted to show up to work the next day in the same pants you’d been wearing for four days. So you found yourself in the laundry room just a little past 11 PM on a Sunday, no sign of life in the hallways, and an overflowing hamper on your hip.
After dumping the contents of your hamper into the washer and loading it up with detergent and quarters you were about to press start when a bright, bold grease stain from the chili at Benny’s glared back up at you from your jeans. It had to be fresh, you wore these jeans yesterday on your day off and they were perfectly fine, so it must have happened sometime during your shift today.
You let out a string of curses and took a peek around the room. Crickets. The building was practically asleep when you crossed the hallway to get here.
So with a sigh and a silent prayer you bent at the waist, pushing the denim down your legs as you went, and stepped out of them. Hurried now, you chucked the pants into the wash and slammed the on button, turned on your heel to run back to your apartment before anyone saw you pulling a full-on Donald Duck through the hallways.
Except when you yanked the door open the path back home was obstructed. There was a boy in your way, but you didn’t notice until it was too late, when you crashed full force into his chest and sent both of you tumbling to the ground along with his laundry.
“Shit,” you mumbled, scrambling away from him on the floor and trying to push wayward clothes back in his direction. “Sorry, I – I didn’t expect anyone else to be up and about.”
“Yeah,” the boy laughed, and when he cocked his head at you, all of his long, gravity defying hair flopped to one side with the motion. “Is that why you were running out of the laundry room, you maniac?” Though his words were harsh, you didn’t take offense. There was a jest in them, a playful kind of ring that felt good in your ears.
He stood, brushed invisible dust from his clothes and then offered you a hand up. His palm was warm against yours as he helped you up, but the heat rising in your cheeks was even worse. You were acutely aware of your situation and you could barely get a word out without stuttering, but if this stranger took notice he didn’t let on.
“Yeah, I, uh,” you chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously, pulling at the hem of your tee shirt, thankful it was at least somewhat oversized. “Was just trying to make it back across the hall quickly in case anyone actually was awake…which they were. You were. God…” You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself and hide your face in your hands. You rushed out a response. “Sorry, I’ll – I’ll go. I’m just gonna move out, actually, hello and also goodbye new neighbor.”
“Shame,” he mumbled through a smirk, “I was kind of hoping we could make a habit out of bottomless laundry days around here, now you’re telling me I have to start that trend all by myself?” He really pushed the joke, making sure you knew he was just teasing, raised his eyebrows and let a smile broaden over his admittedly pretty features, and waited for you to crack a smile before he tacked on, “M’Steve.
Crossing your ankles and holding down your shirt with one hand, you introduced yourself and reached out to take his hand again, shaking it this time. “I just moved into apartment 1E, just across the hall there. It’s- it’s why I thought I was safe just booking it.”
Steve skirted around you to load his own machine and spoke over his shoulder. “It’s happened to the best of us,” he chuckled, “although you had the right idea trying it at almost midnight. The grandmas in this building are usually all in bed by 8. It’s just me and my roommate Robin you’ll have to worry about at this hour.”
“Thanks for the intel,” you snorted, taking the opportunity with his back turned to pick up your own empty basket and bag of quarters that dumped over when you fell.
He was quick though, and quick enough was kneeling down next to you helping you retrieve the scattered change. “Anytime,” he said warmly, dropping the quarters into your outstretched palm. You both left the room together, baskets underarm, and before he left up the stairs he offered you one more charming smile. “I’m in 3B. You know, if you ever need, like, a cup of sugar or have any questions about the building or anything.” Two steps up the stairs, he turned around to add, “or just to hang out. Pants or not. You know where to find me.”
#steve harrington imagine#steve harringron reader insert#steve harrington/reader#steve harrington x reader#steve drabble#drabble#stranger things x reader#stranger things reader insert#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#steve harrington fluff
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Eddie chronically leaves his rings at Steve’s place to the point that Steve checks the bathroom and kitchen sink every time after he leaves, only to find one of them there every time.
Not that Steve is entirely complaining since this means he gets to call him and Eddie gets to stop by on his own to pick them up.
But when they’re at the Wheeler’s place, and Eddie says he’s going to the bathroom, Steve says, “Be careful not to leave one of your rings behind,” with a wink that has the kids exchanging confused looks. But Steve doesn’t notice because he’s too distracted by the light blush coloring Eddie’s cheeks.
“Why would Eddie leave one of his rings behind?” Dustin asks Steve when Eddie’s out of earshot.
Steve laughs. “He leaves one behind every time he washes his hands I swear. I don’t know how he hasn’t lost one at this point.” But his amusement is quick to die down when he realizes the kids are staring at him as if he’s absolutely insane. “What?”
They all glance at each other, and Steve is surprised when Mike is the first to pipe in, “He never leaves them anywhere. They’re like his prized possession. I’ve never even seen him take them off.”
Steve frowns and glances around at everyone, sensing that there’s definitely something he’s missing, so he’s quick to lie, “Well, I guess it was only once or twice that it happened. Maybe it was my fancy soap. Made things too… slippery.”
He gets a few eye rolls at the comment, but the group is quick to move on especially when Eddie comes back a few moments later with all his rings on his hands.
Steve gives him a quick smile, and Eddie is quick to return it, eyes lingering on him for a few seconds longer than necessary and the same blush from earlier returning.
It hits Steve very suddenly.
The rings are an excuse to come back.
And with this knowledge, Steve’s let’s his own gaze linger on Eddie longer than he usually allows, moving into his space more often than not, and carefully keeping track of time, waiting for the hang out to end.
When it finally comes to a halt, Steve is quick to say his goodbyes, hoping that Eddie will join and let the kids have their unnecessarily prolonged goodbyes in private. And luckily, Eddie is quick to move out of the basement, following after Steve in a way that’s supposed to look causal but is anything but casual now that Steve knows to look for the signs.
When he and Eddie silently go out the front door, Steve is quick to turn to him and hold out his hand. Eddie gives him a confused look but offers his hand which Steve takes and slides one of the rings off of.
Eddie stares at it for a moment, looking slightly frightened, as if he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.
Steve is quick to soothe the fear as he pockets the ring and says, “Just so you’ll have an excuse to stop by later tonight.”
Eddie’s cheeks flush bright red and he runs a hand over his face. “Shit.”
Steve laughs, “So it has been on purpose?”
“No,” Eddie clearly lies, pulling a strand of hair in front of his face.
“And what if I told you I wanted it to be on purpose?” Steve asks.
Eddie freezes for a moment as if he’s waiting for Steve to tell him that he’s joking, but Steve sits in the silence, letting the question settle between them.
“Then,” Eddie starts, taking a small step forward into Steve’s space, “I would-”
The door behind them bursts open and Dustin yells, “Hurry up I have a curfew!” as he races off to Steve’s car.
Steve rolls his eyes at the kid and takes a step back as everyone else makes their way out the door to the cars or their bikes.
Steve and Eddie linger behind for a moment, which Steve uses to quietly ask, “I’ll see you tonight?”
Eddie gives him a bashful smile in return and nods. “Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”
Steve resists the urge to celebrate in any way in front of the kids and instead puts his hand in his pocket, fingers curling around Eddie’s ring.
As he gets into his car, ignoring Dustin bitching and complaining, he slips the ring over his finger and smiles at it.
He notices the car go quiet and he nearly groans at his mistake.
“Is that Eddie’s ring?” Dustin screeches.
It’s going to be a long drive home, but Steve doesn’t mind when he has Eddie to look forward to.
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