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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months

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Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold.

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed.

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you.

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–”

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop.

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.”

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for.

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family.

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked.

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him.

It was then, everything came crashing down.

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip.

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home.

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?”

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone.

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake.

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind.

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him.

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve.

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able.

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him.

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him.

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin.

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners.

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs.

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend.

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room.

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it.

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee.

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards.

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve.

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach.

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind.

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs.

“Fuck.”

You opened the door.

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you.

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.”

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed.

He was what you needed.

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock.

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down.

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?”

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety.

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–”

You felt tears again.

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!”

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat.

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you.

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there.

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years.

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn.

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over.

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision.

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.”

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you.

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed.

You crashed together.

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

One More Time

Series Masterlist

Warnings: noncon, roughness, dark elements, some sexiness in this.

Note: Please leave me some feedback either in a reblog or an ask! Likes are always appreciated as well. You know I love yall and hell yeah, you love Professor Steve.

You lay on the bed, entirely still, dazed into a trance. Steve disappeared moments ago, you can hear him down the hall. He slams off the faucet in the bathroom as his sigh flows down the hall. He returns, looming in the doorway.

Your eyes roll down and you see him, naked, playing with himself as he watches you. The thick muscles of his neck tense as he huffs heavily. He growls as he approaches the end of the bed.

“Baby,” he beckons you, “come here.”

You gulp and sit up. Your body is hollow, your mind fuzzy. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be Jensen here. You’re supposed to be the happiest you’ve ever been, not mortified to the bone.

He strokes himself, still soft, growing more frustrated as he pumps his dangling dick. You hold back a cringe as you bring yourself to your knees. You crawl towards him clumsily. He reaches out and grabs the back of your head.

“Open,” he jerks you towards him, nearly mashing your face into his naked pelvis.

“Professor–”

“Open your mouth,” he says, harsher than before.

Your eyes gleam and you close them to keep the tears from falling. You obey, parting your lips. He shoves his soft tip into your mouth, urging inside as you whimper. You nearly gag at the feeling of his limp flesh.

He brings his other hand around your head, framing your skull as he tilts his hips. He rocks, slowly at first. Your arms shake as you struggle to hold yourself up. Your skin speckles with tortuous heat. The thought of what him doing, the reality, you can see yourself from above, being used like you’re nothing.

He grunts and speeds up, growing more and more desperate. He squeezes your head until it hurts, slamming his pelvis into your face. You choke and puff out through your nose.

“Come on, come on…”

You feel a twitch. He keeps his motion, legs hitting the bed frame as he ruts into your mouth. The mattress moves with your body as you grip the edge, shifting with his strength. He sighs as you feel him getting hard.

His grasp slackens on your head and he cradles you gently, petting your cheek with his other hand. He groans as he slows, thrusting in and out as he grows. He prods at the back of your throat as you struggle to breath around him.

“God, baby, you feel what you’ve done? You got me hard for you, huh?” He snarls, “it’ll be better this time…”

He slows you as spit dribbles down your chin. He slides out of your mouth and urges you back. You sit on your heels and stare down at the bed.

He startles you as he grabs the top of your panties. You yelp as he flips you onto your back, stripping your underwear down your legs. You clutch the rumpled blankets in your fists as he brings your feet against his shoulders.

He pushes his hand against your cunt, feeling around with his fingers. He rams two into you, poking in and out meanly. You whine as his intrusion stretches you. He spreads his fingers wide and bends his knees, lining his swollen head up with your entrance.

“Professor–” you squeak, “wait, it hurt–”

You swallow down your fractured protest as he pushes inside between his fingers. You squeal as he rocks slightly, trying to loosen the strain. He brings his fingers together, keeping them curled into you as he wiggles deeper and deeper.

Your tears spring free as your bat your lashes furiously. He thrusts, breaking past the last of your resistance and you spasm, screaming as you push yourself up on your elbows.

“Stop, stop!” You beg as you reach out with your fingertips, “you’re hurting me–”

“You feel so good,” he ignores you as he drags his fingers out of you, “fuck, yes, you’re so tight.”

He keeps a steady but slow motion, easing in a little further with each tilt.

“Please,” you sniffle, “please, I… stop! It hurts so bad–”

His nostrils flare as he growls and pushes your legs together, leaning them against one side of his torso as he hugs them with his bicep. The pressure grows inside of you, adding to the tension of his intrusion. You sob as he keeps going, mindless to your pleas.

He bends your legs higher as he leans over you, planting a hand beside your head as he folds you beneath him. He keeps his feet on the floor as he fucks you deeper and deeper. You bite your tongue until you taste blood, shaking as you weep in agony.

You grab his wrist and squeeze, gnashing your teeth as his flesh claps against yours. His arm falls from around your legs and he fondles your chest as he pants wildly. His grunts grow louder and closer together. He gurgles and you feel the wet warmth explode inside of you.

He’s done. Again. Thank god.

You can’t help the relief that eases the horror. He buries himself to his limit and you wriggle. He stays inside of you and lays over you, heaving into your neck. He kisses your neck as his breath mellows.

“Did you cum? I think I felt it,” he nuzzles into you, snapping his hips so you cry out. “Mmm, sweetie, that was… perfect.”

You moan as you lay limp and prone beneath him. You can’t move. Your insides ache and your soul is cracked. That was a nightmare.

You turn your head, tears pouring out as you hiccup. You can’t stop. He hurt you and when you asked him to stop, he just kept going. That’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

“Baby,” he purrs, “I’m sorry it hurt so much. It’s supposed to the first time–”

You push on his shoulder. He doesn’t budge. He’s too big for you to move.

“Pl-please,” you babble, “please, get off–”

“No snuggles?” He whines against your cheek, pecking it gently.

“Get off,” you grit your teeth.

“Baby,” he begs.

“Get off of me!” You beat against his shoulders with your fists and flail, “get off! Get off!”

“Shhh,” he covers your mouth with his hand, “sweetie, don’t yell–” he grunts as you bite his palm.

He retracts his hand and pushes himself up, still inside of you as he looms over you. Before you can holler again, his knuckles flash across your cheek. The back of his hand leaves a sting on your flesh. You bring your hand up to touch the tender spot and gape up at him.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to– you scared me and–”

You cover your face, quaking. You close your eyes as you tremble, waiting for his next strike. He touches your forearm and you flinch, letting out a whimper.

“Sweetie, I would never hurt you,” he coos as he bends over you again, sliding deep until you squeal, “please,” he pulls at your hand trying to uncover your face as he rocks his hips, “forgive me, baby,” he fucks you slowly, his cum leaking out around him, “let me make it better, baby.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #one #au #college au #professor!steve #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america

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espinosaurusrexex · 9 months

Text

Revision

Professor!SteveRogers x Student!Female!Reader AU

summary: Professor Rogers was a lot of things, but for you, he was even more. A secret affair? A fun little side thing? You didn’t know yet. But you'd gladly seek out every possible moment with him until you did.

a/n: once upon a time I had a crush on my professor… this is what came out of it (don’t worry it didn’t really happen) but shame on me for keeping this in the drafts for so long

thank you @sebsgirl71479 for finding this gif and also very special thanks to @urcatslitterbox for taking the time and making one herself! you are the greatest!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: age gap (reader is of legal age of course), student/teacher relationship, a little fluff (because apparently I can’t do it without) this is obviously smut (dry humping, praise kink, unprotected p in v - wrap it before you tap it guys, slight overstimulation, voyeurism - if you squint), I don't know what else to tell you !MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

“Do you know why I asked you to stay, Ms. Y/L/N?” His arms crossed before his chest as his gaze followed the last students roaming amongst the rows of the vast lecture hall, a blonde strand of hair falling loose and settling in a soft curve over his eye. Professor Rogers looked intimidating, but so damn sexy as well. His biceps bulged beneath the checkered white and blue button-up, his sleeves halfway rolled up, restrained by his evenly muscular forearms.

“To be perfectly honest, Professor,” Your voice stayed even, a slight mockery undertone by the use of formality when you had called him far more personal things than that before. Steve, Stevie, Daddy... you shook out of it - there were still people here. “I don’t. I was quite confident that my assignment was to your... satisfaction.” A smug grin hid behind the last word, as you remembered the actual satisfaction that assignment had brought you as well.

Steve had to hide his smile, too. His eyes darted with amusement when he tilted his head forward to peer up at you through his thick lashes. Your eyes wandered to his legs. His tan chinos were tight on his muscular thighs and the way he leaned back with his knees spread even wider - holy mother of god.

He knew damn well how hot he was, and the annoying thing was that he also knew how to make it work for him. Steve reveled in the power his body language had over you.

He watched as your tights clenched together behind his desk. The simple movement of his fingers on a desk could make you keen thinking about the places they had done that before. His confidence seeped though every fucking vein in his body, dripping in thick undertones and slight remarks out of his mouth and invading your senses through his touch and smell.

He was to die for. Tall, muscular, charming, and older.

You looked him up and down again and as his head tilted to the side you knew exactly that he could read your every thought. His arms opened when the door closed behind the last student, one hand gliding to his inner thigh while the other motioned for you to step closer.

You did.

It was like an automatic response of your body. Though you leaned forwards on the wooden desk, your arms pushing inward to help the cleavage peeking through the collar of your top, Steve’s eyes pulled down in an instant as well.

“It certainly was.” He rubbed his beard. “I just thought it would be beneficial to go over it once more, highlight the good parts and make sure you know what made them so... enticing.” He leaned forward now, his fingers brushing yours on the sleek surface of the polished wood, though his eyes remained on your breasts. Steve wet his lips before his eyes flicked up to yours again. “I’m willing to thoroughly talk you through the rougher bits as well.”

“Are you implying they weren’t all good?”

“Oh, they were good, just not as good as other parts.”

It was a game. You knew that, and Steve knew that too. But the little role-playing brought an excitement to this ordeal that couldn’t be denied by either of you. He was like a magnet and your entire body felt like it was made of metal with the pull he had on you. You stood on your toes, pushing yourself further over the table, where Steve stayed entirely still. He was observing you, though. The slight intrigue in the twig of his brow when your lips came dangerously close to his. A fast glint to the double doors leading to the hallways full of students rushing to their next classes. There was no nervousness in his stare though. Steve actually liked the potential threat of getting caught. It spurred him on, enticed him, and turned him on beyond belief. You had learned that just the other week when he had dragged you behind the open door to the janitor's closet of the history building. He had absolutely no shame in getting his hands dirty while all the students walked past the dark room where Steve had his hand firmly pressed above your mouth as his other relentlessly plunged in and out of your wet cunt.

“Huh.” You pushed back. And even though the muscular blonde on the other side of the desk tried not to react, you caught his shoulder slouch in disappointment. You liked playing tough, though. While his perfume worked hard to pull you back into him, your feet shuffled a little further back, looking him up and down again. His legs were still manspreading on the chair and damn did those thighs look inviting. You knew they were.

The clock above the double door clicked louder now that the students outside had passed on to their next classes. You had one, too actually. But the professor was boring as hell and who wouldn’t trade a creepy scarf-wearing weirdo for this specimen of a man in front of you right now? Exactly: no one. But they didn’t have that chance. Steve had chosen you, reserved his glances and touches, and kissed for you and it was exciting. Getting to share his experiences, letting the older man take control of your body in such rough yet gentle ways.

Your legs strode around the desk as Steve’s eyes followed you through the room. His arms had reached out to you once you were close enough for him to grab and once his index finger looped in the belt loops of your jeans, he pulled you onto his lap. As your hands wandered to his shoulders, his snook around your waist, his thumb gently stroking the skin beneath your top. A shiver ran through you when he leaned back, his icy blue orbs piercing the air as they focused on yours, a small smile twinkling in the corner of his mouth.

“You look good.” You whispered, a hand smoothing over the collar. Steve’s lips escaped a laugh, and even though the sexual tension you build up with the sneaky conversation still lingered in the air, there was a softer, sweeter sound invading the atmosphere right this moment.

“I know you like the blue.” He mumbled when he dipped forward, his nose brushed your neck and a trial of goosebumps traveled down your back. The rasp in his voice stirred something in your stomach, a slight tingle shooting up to your brain and telling you ‘hey that’s hot!’ In bright and blaring neon lights.

Steve’s fingers ran down your legs and began massaging your thighs on each side of him. Another strand of hair came loose and fell forward. It tickled your neck as his mouth began to suck its way up to your sweet spot, your hands frantically cramming his shirt at the sudden attack. His tongue shot forward, soothing the place his teeth just nibbled on and the familiar burn ran over your skin as hisses and moans mixed in your mouth. Your hips jolted forward when he finally reached that spot behind your ear, hot breath blowing over the wet skin and a soft kiss right after.

“You smell...” A growl broke through his speech when your hips ground a second time. “So sweet...”

A jolt of confidence placed a grin on your lips. The perfume you wore had turned some heads before, but the only one that mattered was Steve’s. His mouth resumed his caress of your skin as his hand wandered to your ass, slowly pushing you forward and guiding you over the growing bulge beneath his pants.

“Ah, yes!” It was only a breath out when the seam of your jeans was pushed into your clit by the hardness in his lap, but - God did that feel good! Your back arched when he continuously ripped you over the spot, your hands buried in his hair, pressing him deeper into your skin, encouraging him to keep going.

“Goddamn...” His head switched to the other side of your neck, the skin on the neglected one already hot and tingly. But your sole focus lay between your legs, where his cock massaged your clit in perfectly firm rocking motions. The roughness of the jeans just added to the pleasure creeping through your body.

You could’ve gone like this forever, with the heat rising in your belly and Steve’s muffled panting lingering in the air, but Steve pulled away. A whine brushed over to him when his lips left your skin. You were burning from his touch but at the same time, a cool brush of goosebumps covered your body. It was crazy how much you craved his touch even when he was sitting right in front of you. His stare alone lit a fire within your stomach, butterflies flying wild patterns through every nerve ending when his light blue eyes found yours in the distance of the lecture hall. It had happened suddenly and spiraled beyond your control within days. And then, when he had finally kissed you, it was pretty clear that there was no going back. Steve was like a drug. Something you shouldn’t play with and something that was definitely illegal to pursue, but so so so freaking good because he made you feel things you could have never imagined.

His voice pulled you back to reality.

“As much as I like your ass in those jeans...” Steve tugged on your Jeans with dark eyes, the silver button glimmered in the lecture hall light when his rough fingers yanked on the material. “They need to go.” That last part was just a growl in your ear but the tire of it made you eagerly wiggle out of the blue denim.

You stepped out of your jeans once he had finally opened them and when his eyes fell on the underwear covering your heat, he pulled you closer by your hips. His thumbs drove circles over your skin, sending yet another tingle of excitement up your spine. His hands wandered back to your behind, squeezing and needing the flesh all while pressing you into his front.

Your lips attached to his neck like a magnet, your hand scraping the gruff on his chin with excited circles. A growl traveled past his lips when you reached his sweet spot - the one right beneath his ear, making him melt every time. A deviant smile spread about your face but before you could revel in the control you had over him - even if it was just for a short moment - he had you turned around, facing the rows of desks stretching to the walls.

“You’ve been doing this on purpose, haven’t you?” His hand wandered past your breasts down your front and stopped right by the edges of your panties, the other holding you by the hip, pressing his hard-on right to your back. The excitement shooting through you did nothing to hide, slick pooling between your legs, and your nipples already hard pebbles on your skin. “Putting on these scandalous little lace things thinking about how I’ll be seeing them today...” Warm breath tingled at your ear when he leaned closer, pushing his hand past the hem of the lace. “...taking them off of your perfect body.”

You moaned when his fingers slit past your folds, gathering some slick to smoothly roam about your clit.

“Maybe...” The shivers erupting from his touch interrupted your speech until you could collect yourself. “I’m always thinking of you, Stevie.” He bit your neck before his tongue smoothed over the spot again. It was a perfect interplay of pleasure and pain, the wet warm strokes of his tongue soothing the stinging and adding fuel to a desire only he could evoke in you.

“Say it again,” he growled, adding more pressure to the swollen bundle of nerves between your legs. You squirmed as the muscles in your abdomen tightened, clenching around nothing and reminding you what you had been missing. “What else are you thinking about?”

“Your hands all over my body...” Your hand guided his over to your breasts encouraging him to squeeze the soft flesh and breathing heavily when his thumb brushed over your hardened nipple. “Pushing me to bend over that desk while you fill me up with your big cock.”

“Nothing I’d rather do, doll.” Before you knew it your face was gently pressed against the cold and polished wood. Warm hands wandered to your ass where they pulled down your underwear painfully slow, having you fiddle in place impatiently.

“Now, don’t be so hasty, love. I gotta take my time.” You heard his belt unbuckle.

“Unfortunately, Professor, time is the one thing we do not have a lot of...” His hands stopped moving as you called him ‘Professor’, though you knew it wasn’t a bad thing. If anything, it probably turned him on more, which would hopefully speed up the process of him finally filling you up to the brim. Your pussy clenched at the thought of it again - a frustrating reminder of the emptiness you so wished to disappear.

“Too bad, I would have loved to play with you a little more.”

“Tick Tock...”

“As you wish, princess-” And before the words had even reached your ears, you felt his swollen tip nudge at your entrance, stroking up and down your slit to cover in your arousal as a sinful sound escaped Steve’s lips.

His hands found their way back to your waist before he finally pushed fully into you, leaving you no time to adjust to his size as he started pounding into you with an unrelenting pace. The burn wasn’t painful though. You knew he was big, and even though you had not believed that he would ever fit inside of you, Steve had managed to not only do that but also ruin you for every other man to ever come.

“Look at your greedy little cunt begging for my cock, practically sucking me in, doll.”

You couldn’t answer, too focused on holding onto the desk and controlling your body not to melt with his strokes as he pushed into you over and over again.

“Gripping me so tight... perfect little pussy.” A slap landed on your ass cheek to which you responded with another loud moan. If there had been a care for anyone to hear you doing the indescribable in this lecture hall before, Steve had certainly fucked it out of you by now. You turned your head watching as he spit down on his cock before it disappeared in you again, his head falling back with shut eyes while he reveled in every piece of pleasure you gave him.

“Fuck!” He locked eyes with you, a determined smirk painting his face when his hand wandered around your body again, finding your clit and rubbing tight little circles over the nub.

Your vision blurred as the hot pleasure crept up your spine. There was something about Steve’s touch that made you feel as though every nerve in your body fired twice and fast. You clenched around him again, watching with pleasure as his brows furrowed.

He picked up his pace, kicking your legs further apart and hitting an even deeper angle now.

“Oh my god!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head before you closed them, trying to last longer than this. The feeling was just too good to let go of so soon. But with Steve’s hunky body towering over you and his cock stroking just the right spot with every moan he pulled from you, that seemed like an impossible task. You tried your best, though, but right when you thought that you would last a little longer, his fingers changed the direction of the circles on your clit and turned your brain to mush.

“I’m gonna- ah”

“The hell you are.” He pulled away, leaving you to whimper with the empty feeling you had never wanted back. But Steve pulled you up and turned you around in one swift motion, walking forward until you were pressed against the desk again. This time, though, he made you lay on your back with a hazy smile.

“I wanna see your pretty face when you come all over my cock.” He placed your legs on his shoulders and grabbed his dick to line it up with your entrance again. Then, he made sure to keep eye contact while he pushed himself into you once again, but this time, painfully slow.

You gripped him tight when he bottomed out, stroking the flesh on your thigh while he pulled back just to pound back in again.

“I fucking love this pussy,” he growled as his pace picked up much to your delight, “it’s mine. Tell me, baby.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s all yours, Stevie.” You couldn’t even focus on the words leaving your mouth at this point. You would say yes to anything he said just to make the feeling of his cock stroking your walls last forever.

“That’s a what?” He halted, raised eyebrows watching you expectantly.

“Yes, sir,” you smirked.

“Good girl.” The pressure built up again and when his hand found its way back to your clit, you felt like exploding. His pace didn’t falter, determination taking over while he watched himself slip in and out of you with hungry eyes.

You would be busting in seconds if he kept it up like this, your walls clenching tighter and tighter, your stomach feeling rock solid from the pleasure building up with every circle of his thumb and every stroke of his cock.

“Don’t hold back now, sweetheart. Let go. Give it to me.”

That was all it took for the knot to finally come loose. “Ah!” Your back arched off the table while your hands frantically searched for something to grip, the walls of your pussy fluttering and making your core be on fire with pleasure. It just intensified when Steve slowed his strokes to let you ride on the wave of bliss that made your body tingle.

When you relaxed again, you felt your walls pulsing with lazy delight. A weak smile shining through your hooded eyes when you watched him intensify his strokes again. Shaky whimpers left your throat when his cock brushed over your sensitive parts. He was close, too. You could feel him twitching inside of you, waiting for the perfect moment to let go. And you would give him just that.

“You make me feel so good, sir. Your big cock stretches me out, fills me up. I want you to come inside of me.”

“Fuck, keep going.” He closed his eyes, speeding up his movements and making the pressure build right up for you again.

“You’re so big. I can feel you in my stomach, baby. Make me come by just thinking about you. So sexy and strong and- ah oh!”

Steve’s movements staggered his cock twitching as his face contorted into pleasure while you felt his cum spill inside of you. The scene was erotic, and the sounds coming from the man above of you made you reach another orgasm, milking the last drop from him with every pulse of your walls.

Your chest heaved as you leaned your head back, watching the clock above the door. It was too sad this moment was ending.

Though Steve took his time. He watched his juices drip after he pulled out, whispering a low ‘perfect’ into the room that made your head feel hot.

How was this man making you flustered after shamelessly rearranging your guts in a public lecture hall?

“Put your jeans back on, doll. I don’t wanna get in trouble today.” He winked at you while he zipped up his pants and secured the buckle on top. You stood, fixing his slightly tossed hair and leaving your hand hovering over his jaw.

“Where’d you put my panties?” He kissed you.

“I think I’m gonna keep these,” Steve smiled while stuffing them into his back pocket.

“For revision, I presume?” You smiled with wicked eyes.

“Exactly.”

Here it is - finally! Please tell me what you think (hopefully it was worth the wait)! I've missed you guys so much; life is keeping me busy and excited for more. How have you been?? 💛

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@fangirl-swagg @mi-amoree1111 @lastwandastan @royalwritersoftheuniverses @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @broadwaybabe18 @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @simpxinnie @blackhawkfanatic @kandis-mom @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

One Masterlist

Spiritual successor to Forbidden Lessons with Professor Steve ft. Jake Jensen

One is the Loneliest Number

One on One

One Little Thing

Only One I See

One Thing Leads To Another

One Message Waiting

One Day Closer to You

I’m the Only One

Plus One

Ticket for One

The Wrong One

Number One

One Small Change

One Step Too Far

One Side of the Story

Just One Look

One Way or Another

One Moment of Doubt

One False Move

One Second

#professor!steve #professor au #au #college au #steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #drabble #series #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #the losers

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hertzwritings · 2 years

Text

She calls me daddy

A/N: I COMPLETELY forgot about this masterpiece of an idea from @staysluttymyfriends97, and it would be an absolute crime to not post it. I don’t make the rules. Anyway, Frat-boy!Steve Rogers makes me feel all the good, and I enjoy a cocky Steve, soooooo….

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized something – the sky is the limit with whatever and whoever you want in there!

I love y’all, and hopefully, you’ll like this. Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine) and my askbox and requests are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.

MASTERLIST

CHRIS EVANS MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Frat-Boy!Steve Rogers x female reader, Nerd!Bucky (mentioned)

Contains: Language, Steve Rogers being a cocky dick, mentions of purity rings, smut (MDNI), fingering, oral (m recieving), p in v, unprotected sex, cum-shot, praise-kink, slight daddy-kink, slight dumbification, slight degradation-kink

W.C.: 4.638

She calls me daddy

“Seriously, do you need me there, or are you just acting like you do? You know I have finals next week, and I’ve been prepp…” Bucky glared at you, and you closed your mouth with a snap. “Listen to me. You’ve been prepping for one exam for a full month, now. You’re stressed as hell, you’re jumpy like a cat, who’s been strapped to fireworks, and I miss you.” He pouted and you groaned. “Stop that! You know I can’t handle your puppy-face.” “Please, Y/N, please? I promise, it’s going to be fun as hell, you enjoyed yourself the last time you were there!”

Bucky wasn’t wrong. You had enjoyed yourself, maybe even a little too much. Actually, you had enjoyed yourself way too much the last time you went to his frat house. And you did not want to face the consequences of your own actions.

Your actions being Steve.

Who had quite the rumor of “virgin-collecting”, which fell just in line with what you were when you entered the frat house the first time and left behind as well. Fucking Steve. “I don’t know, Buck…” You glanced at your feet. “Doll, listen to me, you need to actually enjoy your college-life. Don’t stay in here all the time. You’re getting musty.” Your eyes snapped to him, and you glared. “I am not getting musty.” He raised an eyebrow and you looked around in your one-bedroom apartment, realizing just how much you had been focused on exams. You sighed. “One drink. And if Steve gets close to me, I’m literally whacking his stupid, blonde head off his shoulders.” “Don’t you think it’s…” “I don’t, actually.” Bucky sighed. “I don’t know what happened last time, and if you would just talk to me…” “Funnily enough, I don’t. Wait here, give me like… Thirty minutes to get ready. Max.” You didn’t wait for an answer, twirling on your heel to grab a black, strappy dress and your makeup, before slamming the bathroom-door behind you, trying to calm yourself and get ready at the same time. One drink. One.

The frat house was packed when you arrived with Bucky next to you – he grinned toothily at you and led you inside, grabbing the first drink he could and handed it to you. “I’m going to try and find Sam!” He yelled over the bass. “I think Wanda and Nat is around here somewhere.” You nodded. “I’ll find them!” You yelled back. The music was full of heavy bass – which meant that either Vis or Tony had gotten a hold of the music, because it was currently playing Such a Whore, which you found extremely fitting, when you spotted Steve grinding against a sweating blonde, gyrating his hips. You scoffed and scanned the room, drinking your drink – it tasted vaguely of tequila – and finally spotted the two red-heads huddled in a corner.

“Nat! Wanda!” You yelled at them, and they looked up with wide smiles. “Oh my god, Y/N! I didn’t think I’d ever see you here, especially during exam-prep!” You shrugged and hugged Wanda, who beamed at you. Natasha tipped her red solo-cup at you. “Looking good, babes.” You smiled. “You shouldn’t be talking, look at you!” Nat shrugged with a pleased smile on her lips. She did look fucking fantastic, wearing black leather-pants and a tight tank-top in a blood-red color. “I have to tell you about this thing Vis did the other day!” Wanda pulled you to a chair, and began talking your ear off. You didn’t really pay attention to her, because Steve’s eyes were trained on you, while the blonde girl grinded against him, his face resting in a confused expression. You looked away from his blue eyes and re-entered the conversation. “…. I know, but it’s true! I haven’t seen Steve without somebody in his room in forever, and he’s been like… Almost…” Nat frowned and downed the rest of her drink. Of course, you would join back into the conversation with Steve headlining. “I don’t know, he's been demure, almost. It’s weird.” She pointed to your drink, which you swallowed quickly. “Yes, please.” She grabbed both you and Wanda’s cups before walking back to the kitchen, her hips swaying. It was like watching the red sea parting for her. “What’s up with Steve?” You asked, trying to sound overwhelmingly uninterested. Wanda lifted her eyebrows. “Did Bucky not tell you?” You shook your head. “He’s been very busy with Joaquin.” You nodded to where Bucky was currently tongue-deep into his boyfriend’s throat. “Holy… Wow, I did not need to see that.” Wanda laughed. “Well, it’s a little bit of a mystery, really. So, a few months ago, at the Halloween-party, remember that?” Vividly. You even lost your purity-ring somewhere in Steve’s room – not that it should matter, because the promise behind it didn’t anymore, but it was sentimental. You had gotten used to wearing it and felt naked without it. “Anyway, Steve went to his room at some point with a girl wearing this awesome Christine, you know from the phantom of the opera?” You nodded. Thank God, you had worn a mask. “Well, she wore that costume and a mask, and they went to his room, right? Well, she had disappeared in the morning, and Steve has been stone-cold girl-sober ever since. It’s been almost three months, but he keeps saying that it’s not that interesting anymore or something like that.” She glanced at him, and you followed her eyes; Steve was still on the dancefloor, but looked wholly annoyed at the blonde, who was currently dry humping his leg. “Want to know the weirdest part, other than the fact that nobody knows who the mystery heartbreaker is?” You scoffed. “He can’t be brokenhearted over a one-night stand.” She lifted her perfect eyebrow. “I beg to differ. He came down the next morning asking about her, and he was wearing this ring, and I think she might’ve left it behind. Like, Steve doesn’t do jewelry, right, but now? He wears that ring on his pinky at all times. It doesn’t fit him at all, so it’s like almost at the tip of his finger, but still. Never takes it off.” You were seething. Asshole. One thing was being another notch in his virginity-belt, but it was something else entirely to flaunt it to everyone.

Maybe nobody knew who you were right now, but it wouldn’t take much to figure out. “I’ll be right back, Wanda.” You said through gritted teeth and caught Steve’s eyes when you stood from your seat, nodding towards the back of the house, where you knew his room was. He cocked an eyebrow at you and nodded once, nearly indiscernible, and began whispering something to the blonde. You didn’t wait to see her reaction, but walked with fast feet to his room, and went inside.

The memories flooded you, as soon as his scent hit your nose; your moans echoed in your head, his tongue had imprinted itself on your body, and it made you shiver. You shouldn’t think about that right now, because you were angry and just wanted your damn ring back. You were pacing the room, when he came in.

“Hiya, sweets.” You glared at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t sweets me. I want my ring back.” He glanced down at his hand and held it out in front of him with a smirk on his lips. “This ring?” You caught the silver shine of your ring on his pinky. He twisted it around and you huffed. “My ring, asshole. Do you really need proof that you fucked a virgin?” His eyebrows shot up. “That’s some hell of a mouth for a virgin.” You rolled your eyes and damned yourself to hell for your body’s reaction to his voice. You ignored the growing dampness in your underwear. “I was a virgin, not a fucking nun.” He chuckled darkly and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sound. “I didn’t want to be another notch, Steve, and I definitely don’t want to be a prized passion to remind yourself of your feat.” He twirled the ring again. “Who said you were a notch?” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. The music was loud but muted slightly through the door and you could feel the bass in your entire body. “Literally half the campus.” “And that’s believable?” “Yes.” You cocked a brow at him and extended your hand. “My ring, please.” “At least you know how to ask nicely.” He hummed for a moment. “What’s in it for me, Y/N?” “Oh, my God, are you fucking kidding me?” You threw your arms out in frustration. “You need something in return for something you stole?” He chuckled again and leaned against the door. “Sweetheart, I didn’t steal anything. You left it here, and finders keepers and all that.” You laughed mirthlessly. “You’re actually a real piece of shit, you know that captain?” You knew it would get a rise out of him to call him that. He hated it. “Stop that, you know I hate it.” “Give me my ring.” “I don’t think I will.” He twirled it again. “It’s a nice reminder of the girl, who seemingly had the best time of her life with me.” You scoffed. “You really think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” He tilted his head. “Do enlighten me.” He grinned again and you wanted to remove his dick and make him choke on it. “You…” You glowered. “I don’t want to talk to you for longer than necessary, so can I please, just have my fucking ring back?” “No.” “What the fuck, Steve?” “No, what the fuck, Y/N?” He pushed off the door and stalked to you, towering over you. Your breath hitched. “You left in the middle of the night…” “It was six in the morning, but okay…” He ignored you. “Didn’t leave a number, not even a fucking thank you Steven for the most mindblowing night of my life, and you come back here and act all pissy with me, because I wear a ring, I found in my bedroom? You’ve got some nerve, you brat.” “I’m not a fucking brat. You’re an asshole, and I really am not in the mood be here, much less entertain this conversation with you.” He smiled predatorily at you and bent his head a little. “What? You got scared, little girl? After I fucked you stupid, you got scared that I’d what, brag about it to everyone? Let everyone know what a good, little whore you were?” You gaped at him. The fucking nerve. “And you come back here, act like a spoiled brat, can’t even look at me, and think I’m just, what, going to hand the fucking ring back over?” He yanked it free from his finger, and you saw the faint outline of it on his thick finger. “Here, take it. It wasn’t something I kept to show off, just FYI.” He looked slightly pained now. “I kept it, because it was the only thing, I had to remind me of you.” You scoffed and took the ring from him, ignoring your heart thudding wildly against your ribs. “Fuck you, Steve. You knew you could ask Bucky, Joaquin, Sam, Wanda or Nat and they’d probably give you my number. You could’ve asked around. You didn’t care, and you still don’t, because you never do. That’s at least what your previous conquests have said. Loudly, I might add.” You said, pushing the ring back on your finger.

It was funny, it felt almost foreign on you now.

“Oh, shut the hell up. You’d rather listen to girls, who spent a night in here than stay behind to get to know me? You’re stupider than I thought I made you.” He laughed angrily, his eyes burning holes into you. “I wanted to get to know you, Y/N, and you disappeared because you were scared and confused, and instead of handling it like a big girl, you ran off.” He frowned. “And here I thought you were a smart girl, Y/N.” He stood to his full height and gestured to the door. Tears were burning in your eyes as you strode to the door. “I didn’t tell anyone, you know. Just for the record, I easily could’ve, but I didn’t.” “Oh, so because you had opportunity to tell and didn’t, you’re commendable?” You asked, your back turned to him. You hated to admit it, but it did make you feel a little more at ease. He groaned. “Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t say anything to you? You’re so damn defensive, it’s honestly heartbreaking.” “You’re a dick, Steve.” You turned to look at him and smiled at him with as much venom as you could. “Go find another hole to fill, you seem to do that very well.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because his eyes flared up and in a single stride, he was in front of you, pushing the door closed again and caged you with his arms. “Don’t you fucking try me, Y/N.” You glared at him. “I already did, thanks.” He growled and got close enough for you to feel the tip of his nose brush against yours. “You’re skating on thin ice, right now.” He glared at you, and you tried your best to not squirm, because his damn body this close to yours made you feel tingly. “Fuck you. I got what I wanted, so did you, clearly, so let’s leave it at that.” He didn’t like this. “Oh my God, Y/N!” he rolled his eyes. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, coming into my room and acting like I did you a disservice or some shit, because you decided to believe rumors.” His lips turned up in a dangerous smile and his eyes glinted. “You sure as hell didn’t have a problem with it at Halloween. My… Reputation.” You bit your lip. “Actually, you seemed pretty happy about the fucking reputation, because, and Ill quote you: That just means experience, which I need.” “Well…” “No, don’t try to get out of this one. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if I just slid my fingers down…” His fingers slid from the door to your waist, slowly sliding down to your absolute asshole of a pussy, who was – indeed – soaking through your underwear. He hissed when he felt it, and your hips bucked. “Hm. What do you have to say to that, Y/N?” you couldn’t say anything, not really, because his stupid fingers were rubbing circles on your clit through the damp fabric, and your brain was malfunctioning. “So quiet… Did I already make you so fucking dumb, huh? All you needed was my fingers?” You moaned when he pushed against your entrance through the fabric. “Tell me. You want this?” He asked, his lips grazing your neck. Fucking hell.

“Yes.” You mumbled. He snapped to face you again, pressing harder against you. “No, I need clear words, baby. Do you want this?” He asked again, now moving his fingers to the elastic of your panties, his fingers dipping inside. “Yes! Fuck, yes!” you said quickly, when his fingers found your clit. It was all he needed.

He growled and removed his fingers, lifted you from the ground and threw you back on his bed, before he descended hungrily on you. The kiss was angry and full of teeth and tongue, but fuck, it felt good. He groaned against you, pulling the elastic on your panties and letting it fall back with a snap. “Get these off.” You rolled your eyes but did it as soon as he stood up from the bed to remove his own clothing. You quickly removed your panties along with your dress, chest heaving, and your entire body shuddered at the look, he sent you. Steve climbed on the bed and kissed you again, his fingers finding their previous spot on your clit and dipping inside of you. You gasped at the intrusion, and your back arched, allowing him to catch your nipple with his lips. “Fuck, it feels good to have my fingers in you again, baby…” He moaned around your nipple and sped up. How on earth, he managed to coax you to near an orgasm already, you didn’t understand, but you were barely breathing, and your legs shook. “Come on, baby, tell me…” His teeth tugged on your nipple, and you mewled. “Am I who you think about when you’re alone in bed… Touching yourself, huh?” He sped up and curled his fingers. “Y-yes… shit, yes…” You moaned. All pretense of being unaffected by him or not thinking about him was long gone. “Good girl… You want to cum?” He asked, licking wet trails on your breast. “Please…” You breathed it out, and in the same moment, he stilled. “Earn it.” Fuck him. “Wh-what?” you gasped, his fingers still in you and a shit-eating grin on his lips. “Earn it, baby. Apologize.” He kissed you again. “Tell me what you’ve thought of me doing to you, when you’re all alone, touching yourself like this…” He moved his fingers slowly and stopped in the same second as a stuttering moan fell from your lips. “Fuck you.” You mumbled. “Later.” He grinned. “Come now, kitten, speak up.” You groaned and caught his eyes; he was enjoying it. “I’m… Oh…” He twitched his fingers. “I’m s-sorry!” You cried. He moved slowly now, steadily drawing you nearer the edge again. “I’ve… Fuck… I-I’ve thought of you fucking me…” You said, and despite your haze of lust, you still felt your cheeks heat up. “I’ve imagined you fucking me so hard, I couldn’t walk…” “Oh, atta girl.” He mumbled, fingers moving faster now. “But… I-I couldn’t make myself, fucking shit, m-make myself cu-um…” You moaned loudly again. “Because my fingers weren’t enough… Please, S-Steve, I just want to…” “You can cum, pretty girl.” He sped up and attacked your nipple again, and you came undone; his fingers moved so fast and perfectly against every spot, that made you see stars, you wouldn’t have been able to hold back, even if you tried. You screamed as you came, grabbing his bare shoulders roughly, crescent moons indented in his skin form your nails, as he fucked you through your orgasm. “Good girl, look at you… making a mess of me, aren’t you?” he chuckled. “Remember last time, baby?” You nodded and couldn’t help the smile on your lips. “Eager, huh? Come and get it, then.” He moved away from you and flopped down on his back, his large, veiny cock protruding from his body. You nearly drooled at the sight. “Make it nice and wet for me, baby…” He whispered. Yes, sir.

You slowly licked a long stripe along the underside of him, flattening your tongue as you reached a sensitive spot right under the head, and slowly sucked him into your mouth. He tensed up and hissed as you took more and more into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and allowed him deeper. When he hit the back of your throat, you bobbed your head slightly, getting a feel of him, your jaw already aching – he was big, but you were determined to impress. You knew you had some skill. You gagged around his length as you forced him deeper, spit drippling from your mouth to the bed, and he moaned, and his cock twitched in your throat. “Such a good fucking whore, huh, Y/N? Taking me so deeply… Shit…” He moaned again and your lips stretched into a smile around him, before you began moving for real this time – you picked up speed, now feeling pretty confident in the fact, that you weren’t going to throw up all over him, and he met your movements with small thrusts. “Baby… Fuck, you need to… ah… Baby girl, you n-need to stop, sweetheart… I don’t want to… Fuck…” his hand went to your hair and pulled you gently from his cock, and you let it go with a loud pop, his cock bouncing back against his stomach. “Did I do good, daddy?” you asked with wide eyes. “Oh, fuck, you’re dangerous, baby.” He grinned, and pulled you to his side, turning your back to him. “You think it’s wet enough for you?” You moaned as a response. “Do you think you’ve earned it, baby?” He whispered, his lips ghosting against your shoulder. I swear to everything that’s real, Steve, if you don’t…” You didn’t get to finish your sentence, because he pushed slowly inside of you. You gasped and hissed at the stretch, although it wasn’t unwelcome. When he bottomed out, you both sighed. “It’s like you were fucking made for me…” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. You moaned. “Move, Steve…” You gasped. “Baby, I gotta let you adjust, or…” “Don’t. Just… Fucking take me.” You moaned, grabbing the hand that rested on your hip and dragged it to your chest, letting his fingers tug on your nipple. He moved and began dragging his cock against your walls – spooning you, he managed to get even deeper than you could’ve imagined him being and you rolled your hips to meet him. It was intimate, and way more than you thought him to be, but he buried his face in the crook of your neck and sped up, fingers intertwining with yours over your breast. “You feel fucking amazing… Fuck, I’ve dreamt of being inside of you since Halloween…” He groaned and slammed his cock inside of you, working faster and faster. You were shaking around him, your walls pulsing and dragging him further in. “You’re taking me so well, baby…” That did you in. you came with a shout, your body tensing up and your legs shaking, while he fucked you deeply; it felt as if you had been lit on fire, but you didn’t mind it at all. It almost hurt, but you wanted more from him – it was addictive. “Fuck, Steve!” You shouted his name, and he moved his hand from your chest to your mouth, holding you tightly as he fucked you with ferocity. “Shh, baby, you don’t want anyone to hear you get fucked like… ah… Fuck, by me, do you?” Honestly? You couldn’t give a rat’s ass right now. You’d let your pastor hear you, for all you cared, because you wanted everyone to know that he did this to you. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? You want people to hear you get fucked…” He pushed further inside of you, and you saw stars, mewling at the pressure. His speed was stuttering, his grip over your mouth tightening. “Fucked by me, huh? That nice, little, pretty… fucking hell… Girl, getting fucking split open by my cock?” He moaned in your ear, and you were barely hanging on by your fingernails at this point. “Fuck, baby, I’m going to…” He groaned and sped up. “one more, baby, one more for me… I need you to cum for me… I need to feel it, baby, please…” His fingers left your mouth and traveled to your clit, where he began rubbing determined circles on it, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. “Ste-eve… Oh my god…” You whined and when he bit down on the sensitive skin at the juncture of your shoulder and neck, you lost control completely. You came with a shriek, your body tensing and toes curling, wetness gushing from you; your heart was thumping wildly in your chest, and the orgasm felt like it had shattered you, put you back together and tied you up with Steve.

“Fuck!” He grunted and pulled out of you, shooting hot spurts of cum on your hip and ass, painting you with white. You moaned at the feeling and his sweaty forehead fell back against your shoulder, as you both caught your breaths. “I’ll get you a towel, hang on.” “Mhm…” You didn’t have the capacity to answer, simply too blissed out. He left for what felt like a second with a damp towel and began cleaning you up. You turned to your back, when he threw the towel on the ground and settled next to you, drawing lazy circles on your stomach, goosebumps appearing, where his fingers traveled.

“You know, I, uh… I really didn’t want you to leave the last time.” He said slowly. You turned to face him and was surprised at the softness and shyness that graced his features. “I thought that was just your… M.O.” You replied, equally as soft. He shook his head and kissed your shoulder. “Maybe it used to be. I, uh, yeah… I’ve had a thing for you for a while.” He confessed. “What?” “Yeah. Ask Bucky, he’s about to explode with my Y/N this and Y/N that.” He chuckled. “I felt ridiculously lucky to have you in my bed that night, especially since it was a first for you… And when I woke up alone the next morning, I just… Yeah.” You could feel the disappointment seep from him and instantly felt guilty. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a thing for you, too, you know.” You smiled. “I… I was scared. Your reputation does exceed you, Steve. I was sure I was going to be another virgin, you’d added to the collection, and when I saw you wear my ring…” “It’s a purity ring, right?” He asked. You nodded and slowly removed it from your finger. The music from the party had changed to a slow How can you mend a broken heart by Al Green, which seemed fitting for the moment, and you slid the ring back on Steve’s pinky. “We can make it a promise ring instead.” “Oh?” He looked down at it with the softest eyes, you had ever seen. It was like you had given him the most precious thing on earth. “Mhm. A promise that I won’t run out on you again, and that I wasn’t just another piece to your collection.” “I’ve never even been with a virgin before you.” Your eyes widened. “But… Julia said…” “Julia Becker?” He laughed and cupped your face, kissing your nose. “She’s just angry I didn’t want her. I promise you, my reputation is literally just rumors. I don’t want or need anyone else.” You sighed – an invisible weight had been lifted from your shoulders, a weight, you didn’t even know you carried around. “So… You want to stay here?” He asked, kissing you again. “What about the party?” “Fuck the party. I honestly don’t give a shit about it. I’ve got you, right?” He asked earnestly. “Yeah, you got me.”

When you came into the kitchen the next morning, wearing Steve’s t-shirt (that fit you sort of like a dress, that giant man) and your hand secured in his, both of you smiling like idiots, Bucky and Sam both gaped at you, before Bucky hit Sam on the arm.

“I told you it was Y/N!” “But… She has taste, Buck. Steve is not taste, Steve is… Unsalted peanuts.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Fuck you too, Sam. Anybody making coffee, or does my girl have to go without her morning dose of brain-juice?” You grinned. “Y/N, have you been brainwashed?” Bucky asked with a sly grin. “Shut the fuck up, Barnes.” Steve grunted, but you could feel the pride rolling off of Steve as he pulled you tightly. “Seriously, does he have something on you to force you into this? Is he calling you something that you don’t want to get out?” Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Because I literally can’t understand what you are doing with that jerk.” Steve shrugged and winked at you. “Well, she calls me daddy, so…”

You both laughed at the boys gagging.

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thepsychewrites · 2 years

Text

Little Dove Pt. 3 | S. Rogers

You could never disappoint me…

Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: Steve finally brings you to his house for dinner. How will he react when things take a turn and some truths come out?

Warnings: 18+ only ; MDNI ; Age gap, Sorta smutty, heavy makeout sessions, some light angst/anxiety, soft!Steve, power imbalance, and language.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: GUYS GUYS GUYS OKAY- I’m so so so sorry for the delay in part 3, life has been so fucking hectic and messy these last few weeks, but alas the time has come. Also, I apologize for the cliff hangar- but this bitch was nearing 4k words and I just had to stop it where I did otherwise it would’ve been nearing 7 or 8k by the time I was done!! But believe me when I say I won’t leave you guys hanging for long 😚😚 Anyway, as always, enjoy whores!!

Main Masterlist

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Expectations.

God, they fueled your anxiety like no other.

Was Steve planning for more than just dinner tomorrow? Did he want to have sex already? How many times has he had sex? What if he was secretly married? Was he aware that you’ve never had sex? Was it too early to have sex? I mean come on, it's only the first date… Would there be any more dates? Did this even count as a date?

“You need to stop thinking so hard about it.” Yelena’s voice broke out in the foggy bathroom, filtering in past the shower curtains from her spot on the floor. “Seriously- I can tell it’s driving you mad.”

Shampoo was racing down your forehead, your eyes squeezed shut as you rinsed it from your hair. “I know I know, but… I can't stop thinking about it, Lena. I’ve never been in any sort of relationship before and I have no idea what to expect… I don’t know if I’m ready for it all yet.” You confessed, your fingers slowing their pace against your scalp. “All I know is that I really like him, and I don’t want to screw it up.”

Yelena was seated on the floor, her back and head resting against the sink cabinet as she faced towards the wall to allow you some privacy. “Just be honest with him, Y/n. If it starts going in a direction you don’t like, tell him. If he likes you like you say he does, he’ll respect it. And if not… then you call me and I’ll deal with him.” She turned her attention to her neglected nail beds, picking at them lazily. “I wish you would tell me who it is so I could run a background check on him...” She added in a mumble.

“And that is exactly why I will not be telling you who it is.” You shook your head at her antics, loving her even more for it.

Yelena was one of those heaven-sent people that only got put in your life if you were really lucky. She carried an energy that can only be described as Yelena. A fiery, juvenile, smart-ass, protective as all hell, intelligent, loving angel she was. The two of you met a week before your freshman year at one of the welcome seminars your college held for first year students. Low and behold, she ended up being your roommate that year too. She was practically your sister, the both of you sharing an indescribable bond that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

“You missed a spot.” Yelena chuckled, twisting her back and pointing to the slope of her butt. “You’ll thank me later for not letting you prance over there with the ass of king-kong.” She blew a kiss your way, pairing it with a teasing wink.

Maybe you’d take a second thought about the trade.

“I hate you.” You said with the most serious voice you could muster, running your razor along the missed spots of hair.

Yelena hummed. “Sure you do. Now hurry up, Dateline comes on in fifteen.”

——

Steve was a nervous wreck.

It’s why he put on a documentary for the entirety of class on Friday instead of giving his usual lecture. It’s why he retreated back to his office when it started playing, only keeping the door ajar slightly in case of emergency, so he could conceal the fact that he was panicking. He nearly refused to look at you when you walked in, but your gentle smile and sparkling eyes made his walls crumble completely. Steve couldn’t stare for too long though, because his heart rate kept climbing and he didn’t want to have a heart attack on campus today, let alone have the cause of it be a student.

You paid absolutely no mind to the film as it played on, your fluttering heart matching that of Steve’s, who sat quietly in his office during the entire class. Instead, you focused on how the evening might play out.

You thought about what Steve would be wearing when he came to pick you up later. Would he be wearing his usual teaching attire? Or would he allow himself to be more relaxed? You thought about what his house might look like. But what if he didn’t own a house? An apartment would be fine too. What if you saw pictures of another woman hanging along a photo wall, her beauty far surpassing yours? No, that’s silly- Steve would be smart enough to put those away, wouldn’t he? You thought about if his cooking was decent, and if he was sticking to the pasta he talked about on Wednesday. You thought about what movie he would want to watch and how his couch would feel under your thighs. You thought about how Steve would touch you again, his hands trailing far too close to where they shouldn’t go. What if he wanted to take it somewhere new? Would it be such a bad thing? Would his touch be rough and needy like it was in his car? Would he want you to stay the night, sleeping in his bed next to him until the sun came up? Would he ask you to stay a little longer? Would you agree?

Yelena was right. You need to stop thinking so hard about this. It’s just dinner at Steve’s house. Nothing more, nothing less.

Right?

Steve’s train of thought was no better. He wanted to make the night so special for you, but a simple dinner at his house wasn’t going to do him much justice. Did you even like chicken fettuccine alfredo? What if being at his house scared you and you wanted to go home? What if he overstepped too early? What if he wanted to feel your skin under his touch again, would you let him? Would you judge the way his house was furnished? Would you want to stay the night? Would you care to get to know him at all, or did you just want to sleep with him? Did you have a boyfriend he wasn’t aware of?

Steve pulled out his phone, fingers shaking as he typed out a text.

I don’t know if I can do it. Should I tell her something came up?

No less than thirty seconds later, a response came back, his best friend's name attached to the message.

No way in hell, punk. It’ll be fine, just remember what I told you.

Steve rolled his eyes.

Yeah, yeah, don’t be creepy, I’m aware of that, Buck. But… do you think it’s too soon?

Another ding.

Stevie, it’s been almost five years. You’ve got to move on and start living again, it’s what she would want.

And another.

You’re not canceling on this mystery girl of yours, end of story.

Maybe Bucky was right. Steve shouldn’t cancel on you just because he’s been out of the game for so long.

Right?

——

Looking at the clock for the fifth time in under a minute did nothing to calm you.

It was seven o’clock on the dot and Steve hadn’t texted you yet.

Was this his way of canceling? Did something happen on his way here? Did he get into an accident? What if-

A low buzz made your heart jump, your phone alerting you of an incoming message.

I’m outside. Same spot as Wednesday.

You couldn’t tell if his text relieved you or made your stomach churn. With a deep inhale and even longer exhale, you grabbed your bag and made your way outside.

The two of you didn’t talk much after class today besides Steve asking for your number so he could let you know when he was there to pick you up. After that, he was quick to send you a tight lipped smile and retreat back into his office, closing the door behind him.

Stepping out of your residence hall and into the evening sunlight, your eyes landed on Steve’s car almost immediately, pointing your body in that direction and letting your legs carry you there. You kept your gaze down, thinking that if you locked eyes with him now you might panic and turn back.

But he couldn’t stop staring at you.

You were wearing the prettiest little dress he had ever seen- a light blue that stopped halfway down your thighs with short flowy sleeves and miniature white polka dots littered throughout. Steve was practically drooling into his lap as he watched you walk to his car, only regaining his composure to step out and open the passenger side door for you.

“You look absolutely amazing, Y/n.” Steve said when you were within earshot, shaking his head in disbelief that he was about to spend the evening with you. He watched a blush creep onto your face, his eyes never leaving you once.

He was sporting tight black jeans and a deep red long-sleeve shirt, doused with his favorite cologne that made him smell insatiable. Once you finally looked at him, you couldn’t stop. Steve’s smile was contagious, making your lips pull up to match his as you stepped around him to slide into the car. “Says you.” You teased, adjusting in your seat, the door staying open for a second so Steve could ensure you were in all the way before gently closing it.

Steve moved around the back of the car, finally getting to his door and hopping in. “I mean it. You look beautiful.” His voice was light, yet stern, as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the parking lot, his large hand landing softly on your exposed thigh.

It was hard to think straight with his thumb stroking across your skin, goosebumps nearly rising at his touch. “Thank you.” Was all you could muster. With some extra courage you allowed your fingers to trace along his extended forearm, dancing across the fabric of his shirt as you leaned back comfortably in the seat.

The car ride to his house was silent, but not awkward. Quiet jazz music from decades past filled the air and you enjoyed the view, both from outside and from the man next to you. Less than ten minutes later you were pulling into a charming and affluent neighborhood in the historic district of town. The houses here were large and rather spread apart, the lawns perfectly manicured and the street filled with expensive cars. Lots of green trees lined the road, the occasional lit lamp post poking out between them. Steve’s car came to a stop in front of a gorgeous, two story red brick home, black trimming and windows making it stand out from the rest.

Steve turned off the engine and stepped out, grinning to himself as he watched you, your eyes transfixed on the house and your mouth slightly open. Your attention turned on him as the door popped open, Steve’s hand held out for you.

“You live here?” You asked as you took his hand, stepping up onto the grassy curb. “It’s gorgeous, Steve.”

He bent down and grabbed your bag, holding it in one hand and your hand in the other as he led you to the door. “I know. I got pretty lucky with the price and couldn’t pass it down.” His fingers twisted a key into the lock before the door opened, granting you a view into Steve’s home.

It was breathtakingly him, to say the least. Antique fixtures and stunning furniture pieces scattered throughout, the walls dark- yet filled with life. A few plants thrived by the large bay window in the living room, the space filled with warm orange light from a lamp nestled in the corner. It smelled faintly of pumpkin and cinnamon, too. An elegant staircase on the right led to the upstairs, while the foyer opened into the living room to the left and the kitchen straight ahead. The same soft jazz that played in the car floated throughout the house, coming from somewhere in the living room, barely heard unless you listened for it.

“Are you hungry? Dinner is almost ready, just gotta throw the pasta on.” Steve called, his hand squeezing down on yours as he slowly led you to the kitchen.

“Mhm.” You hummed, too enthralled in everything Steve to say anything more. He chuckled at you, a lazy grin never leaving his face. As soon as you entered the kitchen, you knew you’d never want to leave. “God, it smells amazing in here, Steve.” The wide island in the center of the kitchen was sprinkled with flour, two golden loaves of ciabatta laying in a wooden bowl on the side. “Did you make those yourself?” You asked, pointing to the fresh pieces of bread.

Steve nodded, his face turning a light shade of pink. “Yeah, I uh- I like to cook quite a bit…” He trailed off. “Helps when I’ve got someone to cook for.” He added, glancing down at you for a second. His hand squeezed down once more before he spoke again. “Do you like wine?”

“When the occasion calls for it.” You answered, a knowing smile on your face.

He raised his brows, his touch fading as he moved towards one of the kitchen cabinets. He squatted down, opening the cabinet to reveal a wine rack. “Red or white?” His bright puppy eyes peered up at you, and it was a sight you never wanted to forget.

“Whatever you’re having.”

Steve’s eyes diverted for only a moment, reaching in and pulling out an expensive looking bottle of chardonnay. He stood, opening a top cabinet and grabbing two glasses before he placed them on the granite island and poured lightly into each. His heart was doing somersaults against his rib cage as he carefully slid the glass across the island to you, watching you as you took a sip. The pucker of your lips against the glass made his mind wander, his heartbeat traveling further south than he anticipated. He cleared his throat before taking a sip from his own glass.

Small talk ensued between the two of you as Steve finished up the last dinner preparations. The homemade pasta was ready in only a few minutes, served alongside some salad and the ciabatta he had made.

Dinner went off without a hitch.

The two of you shared sly grins and laughter over the food, a few questions from either one of you slipping its way in between the chatting. As the night progressed, you found yourself inching closer and closer to Steve. It’s how you ended up nestled into his lap after the sun had disappeared from the sky, leaving nothing but silver streams of moonlight flickering through the windows, illuminating your heated skin against his. A movie had been playing, but it soon was turned off when Steve lowered his face to yours, his stubble scratching across your cheek as he kissed at your temple.

Steve had maneuvered the two of you onto his couch, him with his back against the cushions and his feet planted firmly to the rug covering the hardwood floors. You were straddling his lap, your knees digging into the plush couch on either side of his black denim covered thighs. His hands were roaming gently up your legs, dancing across your goose-bumped flesh until they snuck up your dress, palming at your ass. His lips were slow and careful against yours, savoring the time he had and not wanting to rush. Steve wanted to feel you. He wanted to take his time unraveling you bit by bit until you were aching for more.

His tongue was heavy as it moved past your lips, tracing against the inside of your mouth and exploring every inch possible. Breathy groans floated from him when your fingers twisted too tight in his hair, his eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. The tips of his fingers pushed into your skin, deeper and deeper, tethering you to him as if you’d somehow slip from his grasp. With the newfound leverage he pulled your hips toward his, an embarrassingly loud moan coming from you as your panty clad clit rubbed against his thigh. With a widened gaze and blown pupils, he disconnected his lips from yours, a hand slipping up your back to lay you flat against the couch.

Steve was hovering over you in an instant, veins bulging along his forearms and biceps as he planted a hand next to your head, his eyes searching yours frantically. “Can I taste you? Please, baby?” He begged, his chest heaving with anticipation.

With an open, silent mouth, you stayed panting under him, every unsure thought crossing your mind for the umpteenth time that day. What if it’s not what you expected? What if he doesn’t like your body? What if having sex with him right now ruins everything? What if you’re not what he wants? What if-

“Hey…” Steve suddenly whispered as if he was reading your mind, pushing back to sit on his haunches. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to do anything.” His words were slow and calm, a gentle hand soothing the burning skin along your cheek. His complete understanding slightly shocked you. “You’re under no obligation to do anything with me right now. Do you understand?”

God- what do you even say to that?

“Steve… I’m sorry, I just-” You stumbled over the words, moving to sit up on your elbows.

I just want to be enough.

I just want this to be what you want.

I just don’t want to screw things up.

I just don’t want to lose you.

Your brain was scrambled from his touch. You wanted more, no- you needed more. Would it be so bad to just be honest?

“I’m a virgin, Steve. I’ve never slept with anyone before and I… I’m just nervous, that’s all.” The confession was somewhat mortifying to say aloud, but it released a mass amount of pressure that had festered and culminated in your chest.

Or maybe the bile was just traveling north.

Steve’s eyes softened, the faintest smile curling at his pink and swollen lips. “That’s okay… it’s nothing you need to apologize for, sweetheart.” His words were reassuring, somehow less disappointing than you expected.

And he was being honest- truly. Everyone had to start somewhere, and you not being sexually experienced was something he expected, really. I mean- he’s never seen you so much as breathe toward another guy in your class- let alone show any interest in the plentiful options. Plus, with women like you, always putting your academics first, it was obvious you had never made romantic relationships a priority before.

Would he be ashamed to admit that the confession made his dick throb a bit harder behind the confines of his jeans? Perhaps. But now having that information out in the open, Steve’s mind buzzed with the thought of making you his in every way possible. He would be the first one to make you fall apart on his dick. He would be the first one to taste you, staying between your legs until the ungodly hours of the morning and until you screamed and begged for him to stop. Time wasn’t an issue for Steve. No, he’d wait until the stars came crashing down onto Earth if it meant he could get you exactly how he wanted you. He would be the first to fuck you, to make love to you, to turn you into a blabbering, drooling mess beneath him over and over and over and over and-

“I know- it’s just… kind of embarrassing- I guess.” Your sweet voice pulled him from his fantasies.

Steve was quick to put your worries to rest. “Not in the slightest, angel.” His hand rubbed soothingly across your forearm. “Do you want this? And don’t just say yes because of me, I need you to be sure.”

The contemplation didn’t take long. You did want this. You wanted him, in every way possible.

“I want this, Steve. I do. I just don’t want to disappoint you.” You whispered, a slight waver in your soft words.

A confused scoff left his mouth. “Disappoint me? Honey, I think you severely underestimate my feelings for you. You could never disappoint me.” Again, it was nothing but the truth. Steve’s reverence for you conveyed through his dark eyes, his gaze worshiping every inch of you. He lowered his face to yours, his breath fanning dancing across your skin. “But I won’t allow your first time to happen on my damn couch. C’mere.” He spoke, his large hands finding purchase on your waist, pulling you towards him as your legs wrapped around and connected at his lower back. Your arms fell over his shoulders as he balanced himself upright, wasting no time as he made for the staircase. With large strides he carried you up to his bedroom, crossing the threshold with excitement bursting in his veins.

As soon as your back hit the plushy mattress of his king sized bed his lips were back on yours in a messy embrace. Teeth knocking together, tongues fighting for dominance, warm spit connecting the two of you. Your hands traversed the sides of his broad torso, raking against his shirt and wishing it was his bare chest instead. Steve’s mouth slowed its attack on you, pulling back a few inches for a deep breath. “Will you let me take care of you? Huh? Let me make you feel good, pretty girl.”

You nodded, breathless and practically suffocating from the subtle rocking of his hips. “Yes, fuck- please Steve. I want you to make me feel good.” Those few words were so simple to get out, yet you never thought you’d be saying them to one of your college professors.

But screw it- you couldn’t resist the way he felt. The way he made your insides feel all tingly when he got close. The way he made your head spin. You couldn’t take it any longer. You had to have him.

Right. Now.

Steve backed up from between your thighs, his fingers slipping around the buttons of his shirt in their haste, shaking as they traveled to the buckle of his belt to undo the metal clasp that held it together. Soon he was left in nothing but his boxers, the shadowed outline of his erect cock drooling inside the fabric making a whine pour from your kiss-ridden lips. He was huge. Your mind convulsed alongside your pussy, wondering how the fuck he was going to even attempt to fit inside you. The arousal pooling inside you made your knees wobble, your heart seizing behind your rib cage. Steve was going to completely wreck you…

And you were going to let him.

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magicxc · 2 months

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Give Me A Try

A freshman in college, Camara is excited to explore life after high school with her long time girlfriend Carol. Thrust into campus life of secondary education, the couple experiences interesting courses, small city lore, occasional parties, and Steve Rogers.

A professor with 100% pass rate, students were eager to take his class for the assurance that it gave. Laid back, easy going, and handsome, women often times threw themselves at him; and he was quick to reciprocate.

While Camara saw the attraction, her committed relationship and overall disinterest in the professor made him all the more curious to see just how far, he himself, was willing to go to test her loyalty.

Tap in to see the lengths that Steve would through to achieve his end goal.

Warnings: Explicit 18+, DUB-CON, black mail, manipulation

Above are a pretty general set of cw/tw to expect throughout the mini series, however, to avoid spoilers each chapter will be specifically tagged based on its contents. I do really well with warnings, so rest assured you will be thoroughly cautioned before hand.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #carol danvers #captain marvel #steve rogers #captain america #original story and characters #original character #college AU #DUB CON #request type shit

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sumbacky · 2 years

Photo

tfw you get to have a moment with the cutest guy on campus day 4: college (slice of life) 📚 for sambucky au week 2022!

#sambuckyauweek2022 #sambucky #buckysam #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #college au #au #caatws #captain america and the winter soldier #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #my art

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sunnydaisy1 · 1 year

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Steve drabbles (1) -sorority girls-

STEVE ROGERS X F!READER

A/N: I’m kind of loving the idea of loads of steve drabbles in like one college au type thing- idk why but college!steve just makes me die. I also have not posted any work for literally almost 2 years lol.

Summary: Nat has persuaded you to get Steve to convince some sorority girls to help with the art department bakesale (warnings: objectifying men lol)

You look down at your phone as you walk past the athletics centre, the time reading 7.47 am, and roll your eyes, mumbling frustrations at the godforsaken early hour, wishing you had grabbed a coffee before leaving.

Nat owed you big time for this and she can bet you’d be cashing in on that coffee later from her in the largest size possible.

She had come to you a week ago, asking for help over recruiting more people to help with the bake sale the art department was running.

She’d already managed to convince Bucky, Sam and Steve to sign up, a surprisingly easy task after trading them a burrito each from Taco Bell. Wanda and yourself were already a given, the 3 of you having been roomates for over 2 years.

Then, a day ago she had burst into your room, throwing herself dramatically on your bed, medical textbooks lying scattered around her head and lamented about the bake sale still being majorly understaffed- not a surprising turn of events since the art department consisted of about 5 senior students. She had then somehow concocted a plan to get some sorority girls to help, convincing you to talk Steve into persuading the girls who always do yoga near the sports track to help. She’d stated ‘one quick flash of those abs and pearly whites and they’ll be lapping out of his hand’.

You knew she was right- Steve’s adonis physique and glowing personality meant he was a bit of a god to the girls on campus. You had then complained about why you had to be the one to do it, and why Nat couldn't ask Steve herself. She had simply shot you a slightly menacingly mischievous grin and patted your head as you frowned at her, “Because dear y/n, Steve is like a lost puppy that would simply follow you to the ends of this earth.”

That was why you were trekking through the athletic grounds at a miserable time, hands pulled up into your sweatshirt sleeves. You rounded the corner and into the field where the track was located, knowing Steve had texted you he’d be here doing his morning training. You spotted him across on the other side, sporting a grey sports shirt and black shorts. How he had the energy every morning to put himself through this torture you didn’t know.

You walked to the brick building a little further along where Steve had dumped his stuff and put your hand above your eyes so you could scan the rest of the track, locating the group of lululemon clad sorority girls with their yoga mats spread out.

Steve soon slowed down beside you and you handed him his water bottle, “Morning Steve.”

He grinned before squirting some water into his mouth. “Morning y/n.” You tried to hold onto the annoyance surrounding the abandoning of your warm comfy duvet but felt it dissipate as his blue eyes met yours.

“Okay so clarify this to me again” he started, “you want me to go and flirt with the sorority girls to convince them to do Natasha’s bakesale?” The tone of his voice was laced with doubt, and you squinted up at him. “Yes. Well not me, Nat. According to her they'll be indefensible against your charm.” You held up air quotes around the last part and Steve's grin got even bigger.

“Okay, fair.” He paused for a second, eyes flicking over to the target before looking down at himself, “Are you sure I shouldn't change, I’m a little gross right now.”

“Adds to the charm.” You stated, patting Steve's upper arm and hating how you acknowledged the hardness of it. Steve's lips twitched with amusement at your comment, placing his water back in his bag. “Okay then.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “When you get over there just like lift your shirt up or something and wipe your face with it. Flex a bicep here or there and we’ll be all set.” Steve watched you with a grin and crossed his arms over his chest, “I know how to flirt y/n.”

“I'm sure you do Stevie just tips ya know, I've seen the way Bucky flirts sometimes.” You say, shrugging in a faux nonchalantly manner.

Steve gives you a look before his eyes flick to something beside your head. You furrow your brow as his hand reaches up and he takes a step forward, a waft of musky sandalwood drifting over you. He pulls something out of your hair and tucks it behind your ear, looking straight into your eyes.

Your heart has picked up to a million miles a minute, a familiar feeling around Steve. His eyes have a sort of twinkle to them and he winks, leaning back and stretching up, linking his hands above his head, “you had something in your hair.” he simply states and you feel your eyes flick down to the strip of skin Steve has exposed from his shirt riding up, the god like abs Nat was talking about peeking from underneath and you swear you see them flex slightly before you rip your eyes back to Steve's face. He had a triumphantly smug look and you feel your face redden further as you realise what he's done and give him a shove, “I hate you.”

Steve chuckles and shoots you another heart wrenchingly gorgeous smile, not helping your flustered state to decrease. “No you don't. Anyway, why do I have to be the one to do this? Why can't you ask them?”

“Objectifying men.” You beam up at him and he wrinkles his nose.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, starting to walk away from you cheekily saluting “You're lucky I'd do anything for you.”

Your stomach lurches at his statement, the words echoing Nat's previous comment and making your heart ache just a little more.

Steve does a few jumping jacks before jogging over to the girls. You roll your eyes at his actions, squinting as you watch him. The girls instantly perk up at they spot him and a few adjust their sports bras and leggings. You snort at that and observe as Steve talks to them, moving his hands around a bit. The girls are all nodding their heads and giggling, making your brow crease a little and stomach sink slightly.

Then, you watch closely as he pulls the trick you said, lifting his shirt up to wipe his face and you swear you can feel the pheromones euxding from the girls as he does so. You squint as a brunette places her hand on Steve’s bicep and he throws his head back with laughter, clutching his chest. Your mouth downturns slightly, and you pull your eyes away from the scene to look at the notification from Nat.

Nat: hope your enjoying oggling steve ;))

You huff and start furiously typing, conveying to Nat how dearly she owed you for this. A shadow comes over your phone and you look up, Steve picking his bag up.

“They agreed to do it and said they’d bake some bits to bring.” He states with a slight frown.

“A job well done.” You say, patting him on his shoulder as he walks with you out of the athletic field.

“I feel dirty.” He grumbles, “like a piece of meat.”

You laugh at that and he watches you with a slight smile twitching on his lips “Time for coffee?” He asks, pulling out his own phone, eyes focused on his screen as you look at him.

“Fuck yes,” You say, “we can even get a juice for you.” Steve grins as that, nudging your arm with his.

#college steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers college #steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers x you #steve rogers modern au #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #captain america #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers drabble #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #marvel #marvel x reader

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crazyunsexycool · 2 years

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to your favorite writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜

Omg Em why is this so difficult?!?!?!?

Ok let’s see

Ghostin- Stucky x reader

After the battle with Thanos you lost Bucky. It took five years but finally you and Steve had him back in your lives. One last mission for Steve was all that stood in your way to start living the rest of your lives, except Steve doesn’t come back. (Based on the Ariana Grande song by the same name.)

Meeting the girl in the picture- 40s!Stucky x 40s!Reader

It was your best friends idea to write to the soldiers fighting overseas. She managed to convince you to write some letters as well. Never did you think that they would end up in the hands of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. The two men that would change your life forever.

A loving sacrifice- Hunter!Steve x Goddess of life!Reader

As a Goddess you were never supposed to have favorites but it was difficult when you had someone as devoted as Steve bringing you offerings. Ever since his first encounter with you Steve has dedicated his time to you. There was an undeniable pull between both of you. Then tragedy strikes and a sacrifice will have to be made.

Leave your lover- Steve Rogers x PR!Reader

You and Steve had known each other since the Avengers were formed. You were his public relations manager and best friend and he was yours. Steve was in love with you but out of fear of ruining the friendship he never said a thing, and then it was too late. (Based on the song by the same name by Sam Smith)

Post-it- CollegeAU!Bucky Barnes x College AU!Reader

Bucky returned to campus after an accident which caused him to lose his arm. He went from life of the party to reserved. You shared one class with him in which you saved each other seats but not much else. Until you have a free Saturday and as you sit by the window in your dorm you notice Bucky in his room in the building across from yours. With nothing else to do you send him a message with post-its.

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jen-with-a-pen · 1 month

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ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve's night is made when his barista ends up sharing a class with him. But Steve's paranoia gets the best of him– can he really trust his gut?

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.66k

warnings: flirting, fluff, hand holding, closeness, steve is adorable when he's nervous, paranoia, unease, cursing, barista lore™

a/n: had fun writing this one as we build up to friday! i might be switching the days/chapters around in the next few, but we'll see. depends on the depravity of my brain 😈

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Thursday.

Learning how to draw, when he already knows how to draw, makes Steve feel bad at drawing.

Sitting in the lecture hall of the art school, he doodles over the half-assed notes he manages to take during the first thirty minutes of class. Usually, he loves Drawing 101; it’s his easiest, only late-night class each week and one of the only times he can relax without worrying about one of the brothers barging in with another stupid homework question. Usually, it's just him, his earbuds turned up a touch too high, and whatever subjects the instructor places in front of him. On Thursday nights, nothing stands between him, an easel, and two straight hours of sketching pots and people.

Except when a said-Thursday night happens to fall on ‘mandatory lecture’ day.

It hasn’t been an hour when Steve gives up trying to force himself to focus, instead choosing to mindlessly doodle over and around the page. The Drawing 101 guest professor continues to drone on about different types of graphite in the pencils kits Steve and twenty-odd other kids in the course were forced to buy. Steve doesn’t understand– nor does he particularly give a shit– as to why a 3H pencil is better over a 3B pencil, or how using an 8B pencil isn’t preferred over a 7B pencil.

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

Steve sighs, failing to stifle a yawn. No amount of coffee– not even the triple espresso concoction his barista had him try earlier that day– could save him from falling asleep in this godforsaken, decades-old room with dimmed lights and sporadically-filled seats scattered amongst the vast sea of empty ones. Honestly, nobody ever came to monthly lectures, save for when their usual professor mentioned the material would be part of their written midterms. Guest lecturers result in a lesser turnout, too, and Steve partially wishes he’d chosen to spend it back at the café or in the library. As the professor continues on to the next type of pencil, the double doors at the back of the room creak open. Still dazed in a bored stupor, Steve cranes his neck over his shoulder to see which unlucky bastard is almost an hour late to the snoozefest.

He immediately wakes up, shooting up in his seat as if a bucket of ice water were splashed on him. He can’t believe what he sees: it’s her. Her. His barista.

Mouth agape, he stares as she slowly closes the doors, careful not to draw too much attention to her late arrival. When nobody bothers to acknowledge her, she makes her way down the carpeted steps of the lecture hall in search of refuge in an empty seat. Her eyes dart across the aisles, desperate for just one, inconspicuous place that will draw the least attention.

As she combs the rows with a furrowed brow and bottom lip slipping adorably between her teeth, Steve realizes he’s got some sort of a chance. Eyes dart to the professor, then back to her. Steve subtly raises a hand, waving to get her attention. Locking eyes, she finally sees him. Relief and surprise replace her bitten lip with a beaming smile. Steve’s heart soars, skipping far more than several beats. He doesn’t– he can’t– take his eyes off her as she quickly shuffles through the row of seats, plopping down next to him and dropping a tote bag at her feet. She pulls out a purple notebook and pen, slouching back into her seat with a relieved sigh, knee brushing gently against Steve’s. A ghost of the sweetest-smelling perfume drifts into his nostrils and he has the urge to replace his oxygen supply with it.

Steve feels like he’s dreaming. Cloud nine, light as a feather, the whole fucking nine yards. He skims over her features in the dim light of the lecture hall– the curve of her lips as she whispers to herself, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find a blank spot; her eyelashes that flick up and down as she copies down the date and class number. He trails down her neck, crossing over the gold bar necklace she wears every day, to her shoulders and arms, her hands. When his eyes drift back up to her face, she’s staring back. Heat blooms in his cheeks and nerves constrict his chest in embarrassment. She smirks, shaking her head and turning her attention to the professor’s current ramblings on B and HB pencils. Steve opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it.

What would he even say? How would he get away with trying to talk to her in the middle of the lecture? The professor would hear him, he’d get called out, everyone would see him–

She huffs, turning to another blank notebook page. Steve side-eyes her as she quietly tears the page out and scribbles something on the first line. Side-eyeing Steve, a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she discreetly slides the paper over to him.

hi stranger.

Steve can’t help but grin. It spills across his lips as more heat blooms, trailing up his ears and down his neck. Trying not to seem too eager, he clicks his own pen and scrawls a response. The professor’s voice fades into background noise, going through one ear and out the other. He’s a goner and so is Steve.

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

He slides the paper back to her. She scoffs a laugh, smile growing wider.

last minute class drop + switch. u know how it is.

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

She shakes her head, quickly scribbling when Steve cocks his head, mouthing a ‘what?’

film kid. have to take art class for credit. only one available.

Steve’s surprised at her response, nodding once he thinks it over. It makes sense.

She makes sense.

It fits her. It fits the way she moves, the way she carries herself, the ease in which she comes up with witty comebacks. It’s then and there Steve really thinks about the contrast between the two of them– the way he’s perceived versus how he perceives her. He’s a frat brother, a six-foot-two guy with muscles he doesn’t know how to use yet, and a lifelong artist who doesn’t fit in– no matter how much he tries to claw and fight his way out of the hole people dig and throw him in.

If anything, he doesn’t make sense.

Brow furrowing and jaw set, Steve’s caught in the downward spiral he’s been fighting to keep at bay since coming to Richards– since he pledged his life away to Sigma Theta Beta and the never-ending identity crisis the brothers force upon him every waking moment. But, it’s with her that he feels more like himself than anywhere else in the goddamned world. It’s with her he wants to– willingly– be himself. He wants to be himself with her.

He, however, doesn’t realize the hack job he’s performing on his poor cheek tissue until a soft hand covers his, squeezing lightly. Warmth spreads like wildfire across Steve’s skin, breaking him free and bringing him back to the real world. Concern veils over his barista’s expression; her soft, searching gaze jumps between his baby blues.

‘You okay?’ she mouths, studying him, hand still on his. Her brow twitches upwards when he still doesn’t respond. Steve holds up an index finger and goes back to responding on the paper.

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement.

same. pencildick up there is putting me to sleep. how do you even do it?

Steve bites a laugh back.

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

Her smile is bright enough to light up the darkened lecture hall.

Two whole pages are filled by the time class lets out. Front and back.

Steve allows his barista to take the lead in following other students out of the lecture hall. Buzzing conversations reveal a shared eagerness to get the hell out of there and go spend the rest of their Thursday night doing something else more worthy of their precious time. Steve slings his bag over his shoulder as he follows close behind, verbally continuing their written conversation about her shift from earlier in the day and swapping ridiculous ways on how they’ll manage to work every type of pencil into their midterm.

As he plods next to her, Steve fights an innate urge to place a light hand on her lower back to guide her out on their way to the parking lot. Instead, he gets the door, jokingly half-bowing with an outstretched arm to the second set of double doors. Continuing out of the building, Steve takes a breath, deciding now is the perfect time to ask if she’s busy tonight. Instead, though, she stops abruptly. Steve runs directly into her, arms jutting out instinctively to steady both of them out of sheer instinct. Grabbing her shoulders, she spins around to face him, closer to his chest than either realized.

Steve feels his ears turn red again. She looks up at him, blinking before taking a step back, lips parting slightly. An awkward beat hangs in the air before Steve clears his throat and rubs his neck.

"You, uh,” he swallows, preparing himself for the inevitable, “You maybe wanna go grab a bite t’eat, or somethin’?"

Her eyes widen, lips twitching at the corners. She looks like she’s about to answer before quickly realizing something, as if internally scolding herself for even looking excited. Pressing her lips together, her eyes dart back to her phone.

"Shit, I–" she quickly types a response and shoves it back in her pocket, exhaling in frustration.

"What is it?"

"I would love to, Steve. I really would, but," she closes her eyes and sighs, "I can't. My sisters need me back at the house. They said it’s an ‘emergency.’" She adds sarcastic air quotes, rolling her eyes.

"Oh!” Relief fills Steve’s chest, thankful she’s not purposefully blowing him off with some shitty excuse. “Okay, no yeah, I–I totally get it, family can be-"

She smiles softly, shaking her head and taking his hand to run a thumb over his knuckles. The gesture is so casual, so soft, yet it sends goosebumps up Steve’s arm.

"Oh, no. No, they're not my actual sisters. They're, um, my sorority sisters." She flinches as 'sorority' leaves her lips.

Steve blanches, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. He can't help the lopsided smile spreading across his face. He can’t help taking both her hands in his and holding them in excitement. The odds of it– all of it– all the things, of all the people, she’s the one to make him feel less alone. She’s the one that understands everything.

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

"No, I– I completely get it. My frat brothers are insufferable and I'm the newest pledge, so–"

It’s her turn to blanche. "You? You’re a new pledge, too?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I’m required by my scholarship–"

"Oh thank God it's not just me!"

"There's one for sisters, too?" Steve gawks. He’s truly in shock at the audacity of Richards to make any student required to endure the circle of Hell that is Greek life. He squeezes her hands. She matches him.

"Of course there is, meathead,” she snorts. “Title nine, or whatever the hell."

Steve nods. "I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone in this. It's fucked up, but maybe not as much now that I know you're in the same boat as me."

He pulls her ever-so-slightly closer. She lets him.

"Guess that makes you the Jack to my Rose."

Steve furrows his bro, cocking his head like a confused puppy.

"Oh God– Don't tell me you've never seen Titanic," she gasps, feigning offense and sending Steve off course, thinking he’s fucked up somehow.

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

"I, uh– no, not that I know of. I–I mean I've heard of the Titanic, but I don't remember the– well I know there's a movie, but I–"

She laughs, full and genuine, stepping forward as her hands leave his, placing one on his shoulder. Her touch is soft, gentle, more comforting than anything he’s ever felt.

"I'll show ya some time. Don't worry."

Squeezing his bicep, her fingertips glide down to his hand, grazing his fingers for the slightest moment before slipping between them, lacing them together. Electricity shoots up Steve's arm. Without another word she leads him out of the building, walking down the sidewalk lit by the moon rising overhead and scattered street lamps illuminating the parking lot.

Steve decides then and there he’ll go wherever she takes him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She stops at the edge of the parking lot and turns to him. "This is where I leave ya, my car’s over yonder.” She nods to a blue sedan with a Richards sticker on the back windshield sitting underneath one of the street lamps. “Plus, I’d like to save you walkin’ me to my car for another night.”

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

“Text me, meathead. I'll see ya tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow.”

She releases his hand in slow motion and Steve hopes she’s relishing every bit of physical contact with him as he is with her. He heads to his own car parked in the darker side of the lot under the shadows of the perimeter trees and dimmer lamps, swaying languidly and ambling across the pavement in a trance. Steve makes a note to himself: watch more movies, because he sure feels like he's in one.

The trance is broken when a split second of what sounds like a scream echoes over the lot and is snuffed out just as abruptly as it started.

Steve freezes, key halfway into unlocking the driver’s side door. Ears prick up, breath held firm in his chest. Turning over his shoulder, he gasps, startled as a blue car– her car– slowly backs out from under the streetlamp and exits onto the road casually. Steve watches it disappear from view. The sound of the engine gunning it down the road leaves Steve alone in the dark, a sick uneasiness pooling in his gut.

He gets in his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone.

You okay? Did you hear that?

Steve turns the engine over and throws the car into drive, foot hard on the brake before checking her text back.

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

The uneasiness doesn’t leave him. She doesn’t usually text like that.

“Fuck, get a grip, Steve,” he mutters to himself, resting his head against the steering wheel. He takes a second to gather himself and calm his nerves. The paranoia he’s been trained to feel thanks to his brothers, in combination with the fear of fucking everything up with his barista tonight, must be mixing together and clashing against every active nerve in his body. He’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s obviously driving right now, of course she wouldn’t fucking text how she normally does. She’s probably using voice text. Calm. Down.

Steve sends another text before tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat, the unease refusing to dissipate. He turns on the radio, turning up the song blasting from the speakers in a sorry attempt to silence his racing thoughts.

No big deal. Get home safe.

His phone stays silent the rest of the night. It stays silent as he gets home, as he throws a bowl of ramen together, as he throws himself onto his bed and flips open his laptop to watch some random brainrot he finds on Netflix.

He nods off, letting himself be taken by exhaustion as the uneaten bowl of ramen sits on his desk, growing colder, while the dim computer light and hum of dialogue pull Steve further and further into a dreamless sleep.

His phone dies silently in his hand.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Text

All the Good Girls Go To Hell 14

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, injury, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You come home for the summer but your break is not as relaxing as you expect.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: dramaaaaaaa.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

A stony silence follows you back to the house. Bucky hasn’t said much and you can tell by the edge of his jaw, that he doesn’t want to. You feel as if you’ve done something but you couldn’t place it if you tried. His mood has proven as mercurial as his daughters.

You help him bring the groceries inside and put the bags up on the island. He moves with purpose but not words. You nibble your lip and wring your hands.

“Anything else I can help with?” You offer.

“Nah, go see Naomi. She’ll be getting antsy.”

He doesn’t look at you. That almost hurts. You’re not entirely certain what’s changed.

“Alright,” you accept his dismissal.

You turn and tread down the hall. You reach to fix the frame, slightly lighter than your previous ones. Maybe it was too much money. You tried to tell him he didn’t need to buy them. Your stomach churns with guilt as you get to Naomi’s door. He should be worrying about her, not you.

You tap on the door. It opens almost at once. Naomi wears only a black lace thong and matching bra that shows off most of her tits. You stammer as you gape at her.

“Thought I heard you,” she grabs you and hauls you inside, “oh my god! Are those the new ones?”

She swings the door and clings to you, coming toe to toe as she brings her hand up to your glasses. She grins and pokes out her tongue.

“These would be even cuter in pink,” she chimes.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I don’t mind the purple,” you shrug.

“Anyway!” She claps her hands and wiggles in excitement, “as you can see, I’ve been trying to find the perfect outfit.”

She spins and skips over to her bed. There are layers and layers of clothes across it. You fold your arms and watch her from across the room as she sifts through the fabric.

“So, I was thinking,” she pulls up a dress, “white? Not too pure,” she shows you the pure white with the various colours of flowers speckled all around. The cut is short and the cups have a tiny frill at the top. It’s cute.

“Oh, I like it,” you approach and take it from her. It will be tight and a bit less than you’re used to. You don’t see the hem going much further than your thigh.

“Just put a bikini under it. We can hop in the pool,” she suggests. “For me,” she holds up a strapless red bikini top, “under this,” she shows you a sheer black crop top, “jean shorts.”

“Sounds good,” you comment as you peer over her menagerie of fashion. “Wow, you sure have a lot of clothes.”

“Oh, yeah, uh…” she swallows, “dad likes to take me shopping.” She turns away and lays out her select pieces on the pillow, “after the divorce or whatever.”

“Ah, makes sense,” you utter.

“Anyway, we should get ready. I’m gonna doll you up!”

You flinch as she turns back to you. Her lips curl as she slinks towards you. She grasps your shoulders and looks you over, “a nice baby pink gloss– are you okay? You look…”

“Tired,” you interject, “long day.”

“Oh, with him, it always is,” she scoffs. “Anyway, how is it up close?” She pushes her hair back to show her face clearly. You can’t see much of the blemish but there’s a bit of swelling still in her cheek. “I think I did decent. Just gotta keep my head above water.”

“Yeah uh, it looks… good,” you swallow, “Naomi, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m great,” she puts her hands on her hips, “no Addy, like I promised. I’m being a good girl.” She shimmies and spins with a kick of her foot behind her, “I should warn you, my dad’s friends are a bit… eccentric. You’ll love Sam, though. Nice guy,” she bites her lip and hums, “I think I like him a bit too much for dad’s taste.

⛱️

You follow Naomi out of the room, your hands firmly on the hem of your dress. You feel like each step exposes more and more of you. Even your borrowed swim bottoms don’t relieve your insecurity. They don’t exactly cover as much as you’d like either.

Her hair is drawn up into a messy bun, not the sort you twist up for laundry day but the effortless style that takes forever to master. Her top barely goes past her bikini top, hinting sheerly at what’s beneath. Her denim shorts are low rise and cut at an angle that shows a bit of cheek. You don’t know how she pulls it off or gets away with it.

As you come out into the sunshine, you smell the grill and hear it spitting as Bucky stands behind it with a spatula. A man stands with him, a can in hand as he scowls at the barbecue. You hear him loudly critiquing Bucky’s method.

“You shoulda lined the sausages up this way, and the burgers here,” the man points, “then you could toast some buns.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Bucky grumbles, his grimness lingering.

“Ugh, guess he’s in a mood,” Naomi sneers as she heads for the cooler, “come on, let’s snag something to drink.”

You trail her and she pops open the lid. You glance around at the other two guests huddled in the shade of a tree. The woman has red hair in a bob and the man has greying hair and a goatee. Neither seem very interested in the host and keep their voices low. The energy is strange.

“Soda only,” Bucky calls across the yard.

Namoi grimaces and sends you a look, mouthing ‘dick’ before she snatches out two diet Cokes and hands you one. You accept it without complaint and go with her to the loungers by the pool. She pushes in the tab of her can and pulls down her sunglasses.

“Don’t know why he asked us to come if he’s just going to be an old prick,” she growls.

“It’s fine, we don’t need to drink, do we?” You look down at the condensation as it pebbles on the silver can.

“It would be fun. Especially if we’re gonna be surrounded by these geezers,” she takes a loud slurp and gulps harshly.

“Yeah, I guess–”

“Steve!” The man that stands with Bucky, Sam, hollers and you look up. Huh?

Your chest constricts as you see the familiar golden locks, swept away from the chiseled face, and that contrived smile. Steve walks arm in arm with a woman with wavy strawberry blonde hair. Her eyes are even brighter than his. You frown.

“What–” Naomi notices your sudden chagrin and looks over her shoulder, “oh, that’s just Steve. He’s my dad’s friend. And business partner. They hate each other.”

“Who’s that woman?” You breathe.

“Oh, Wanda. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? That’s his wife.”

“Wife?” You cough and fan yourself, “what?”

“Do you know them?” She glances at you with intrigue.

“Nay…” You stand abruptly and leave the unopened can on the seat.

You keep your head down and march across the yard, onto the deck. You move around the table beneath the unfolded umbrella, trying to hide in the shadow. She catches up with you in a clamour.

“What is it?” She keeps her voice low, a rare moment of discretion.

“That’s the… that’s–” you can barely find the words, “he’s dating my mom.”

“Your mom? What?” She says a bit too loud, “bull– oh my god,” she stops as she stares at you, “you’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t make it up,” you snap, “Naomi,” you give her a pointed look, “what the fuck?”

“Oh ho ho, that’s amazing,” she cackles, “your bitch mom deserves that.”

“She’s still my mom.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” she raises a finger, “does she knows about Wanda though?”

“What do you– of course she doesn’t.”

“Well, they have an arrangement. It’s fun. She’s…incredible. Anyway, you know, maybe–”

“She said they were engaged,” you hiss, “so… I don’t think she knows.”

“Huh?” She hums and takes a drink of her soda, “I love it. It’s… dramatic.”

"I gotta go," you say and try to sidle around the table. Naomi blocks you in, "please, I can't–"

"Why? You shouldn't be embarrassed about his bad behaviour."

"Yeah, but–"

"Fuck him. Let's have fun, just you and me," she pleads, "you can't leave me here."

"I… Let's just stay in your room."

"Ugh, please, Steve is a bitch boy. Don't even worry about him," she spits, "me and you, we're going to vibe. That's it."

You pout. Your skin is scalding and your thoughts whirring wildly. What do you do? She's right, Steve's wrong, not you. He always has been but now your mom might just believe you.

"Fine, I'll stay," you relent, "but you have to help me."

"With what?" She wonders.

"I need a picture of them. To show my mom," you sniff, "so she dumps his ass."

"Ahaha, I love it," she reaches to play with the strap of your dress, "you're sexy when you're mad."

You send her a look. She blows you an air kiss and takes your hand. "I got photos you can have. Wanda and Steve. Me and Steve. Me and Wanda–"

"What?" You gasp as she drags you to the steps.

"Oh yeah, like I said, they have an arrangement."

Your lips part. Jesus. You are way out of your element.

As you come down the stairs, your eyes meet Bucky’s. He quickly tears them away and flips some patties on the grill. You don't know what's going on there.

You're caught in the gaze of another before you can look away. The recognition in Steve's face pales his skin. His throat bobs and he leans over to whisper to his companion; his wife. He untangles himself from her and you tug on Naomi.

"Fuck, shit, no," you curse under your breath, "he saw me."

"Tell him to fuck off," she lets you got and toys with the tab on her can.

"Hey," Steve's voice pierces your wall of obscurity and you cringe as he approaches.

"Look, she's not interested, fuck boy," Naomi turns and plants herself between you and him, "unless you want everyone here to know you're fucking her mom."

"Nice to see you too, Mimi," he greets, "I just was saying hi–"

"Say hi to her mother," Naomi retorts, "she and Wanda must be excited to be future sister wives. I didn't know you were Mormon–"

"Fuck off," Steve lowers his voice dangerously, "and mind your own business."

Naomi laughs, "oh, baby, are you scared?"

"You know Wanda doesn't car where I put my dick. Wish she had stopped me from putting it in you–"

You turn on your heel and walk away, sickened by their argument. That's the Steve you know. Amiable on the outside but hidden just beneath the skin is a despicable man.

Your skin buzzes and your insides burn. Just his voice has you alight with revulsion. Your head tickles meanly as you try to sort through the sudden haze. What happened that night? What did he lie about?

Your chest is heavy and locked up. Your body isn't obeying you. When did all these people get here?

"Hey, hey, wait," Naomi calls, "slow down. Where are you going–"

"Keep him away from me," you puff, "I can't–"

"Sure, sure, hey, what's going on?"

You meet her eye, desperate twitch in your lip, "I don't know."

"Well, it's no problem. Won't be the first time I popped Steve."

"Please, don't… pop him," you plead.

"If you insist," she turns to squint in his direction, "but I'm ready."

You could laugh at her determination. It's almost flattering. She faves you again and squeezes your hand.

"Never fear, I'll figure out how to get is some drinks," she avows, "oh, you should meet Sam, too. You'll like him."

"Uh, sure," you shrug, "so…" you let her pull you around the pool, "you like Sam?"

"What's not to like?" She giggles, "dad would kill me but that makes it even more delicious."

You let the weight off your heart and cling to Naomi. She might be a disaster but dammit if she isn't fearless. You admire the way she can just barrel through any obstacle withoit a second thought.

You wish you could be more like her, yet you suspect that part of her wasn't bought easily. The more you learn about her, the more you understand her. She's not really treated like a child and it doesn't seem she ever was.

⛱️

It's not a surprise. You thought Naomi was keeping pace with your deliberate nursing of the vodka cooler. Somehow, somewhere through the night, she'd got ahead of you.

You wonder if it was when she'd been dancing with Natasha, the woman with the wine red hair, or when she was shamelessly flirting with Sam. It hardly matters now she's clumsily traipsing around the pool, teetering dangerously close to the edge.

You tug her away and sit her on a lounge chair. The night has worn to darkness, the patio lights limning the figures as the continue to chatter beneath the drone of music. There's a lot more people than you can keep track of.

"Nay," you hiccup, only then realising how you're really not that far off from her, "chill out."

She bats her lashes at you and all at once has her hands on your cheeks. She pulls out into a sloppy kiss and you stagger before falling onto her. She rolls you with her as her tongue delves into your mouth. For a moment, you think of succumbing to the affection but the whistle nearby reminds you of your audience.

The thought flits away as you pull back and struggle to stand. You can't explain it and you don't think you can. Not in your state.

"You're so sexy," she babbles.

You hush her and wrap an arm around her waist, hauling her up to her feet.

"Let's get you to bed," you coax.

"You're coming with me?"

"Uh, maybe," you find it hard to support both of you.

"Hey, need some help?" Steve asks as he nears.

"Get the fuck away, dirty dick!" Naomi lashes out.

You quickly drag her past him and don't look back. You scramble up the stairs, uneasy and unsteady. You're dizzy and tired and you just want to get Naomi in her room so you can crash.

You take her down the hall and to her door. You angle her inside. Her bed is still swamped with clothing but you don't care. She laughs as she lands on her back and you heave.

"Come on," she writhes as she tries to push down her bottoms, "let's have fun."

"Naomi, please," you say past the heat blazing in your cheeks, "get on your–" you roll her over, "stomach."

"You're so good to me," she turns her fave out, "no one takes care of me. Not like you, honey."

"Naomi, you need to sleep."

"Sleep with me," she begs as she grabs at you.

"Uh, let me get some water, okay?" You dodge her hand. "I'll be back."

You back out, hoping she'll pass out before you return. You wander out to the kitchen and clumsily shuffle around. You manage to find a tall glass and fill it from the fridge filter.

You spill a few drops as you head down the hall. You get to Naomi's room and hear her snoring. You take a gulp of water and leave it on her night table.

You retreat and shut her door behind you. You go to the guest room and open the door, yawning as your vision turns bleary. You nearly scream as you find naked bodies writhing in the bed.

The strangers don't notice you. You recognise Nat's red hair as she buries her head between the other woman's legs. You quickly depart, careful not to slam the door.

Shit. Maybe you should just crash in Naomo's room. Before you can cross the hall, a shadow looms at the other end and you turn to face it. Your name gristles in the air and you freeze.

You just want to sleep.

#Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #captain america #Winter Soldier #college au #series #all the good girls go to hell #Fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #Avengers #MCU

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espinosaurusrexex · 11 months

Text

All the Words I Can't Say

College!SteveRogers x Female!Reader AU

summary: Steve can't help it. He is just so enchanted that all he ever draws is you. Too bad he will never actually talk to you, though - that's too scary. But Bucky always says he has to face his fears some day...

a/n: I have a playlist for College!SteveRogers. It was originally for another fic I’ve written, but apparently I can’t not imagine him awkward and love struck in any college universe. So this serves as a general College Stevie AU vibe :)

word count: 2.6k

warnings: awkward, love-dazed Stevie, fluff?, swearing, and so sorry (but it's giving slight stalker vibes... it really wasn't my intention he's just so obsessed)

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ･

He dreams in color. They are the words he can’t say, painted on a canvas.

Blue fades in clear water. Like a feeling warming you for a second, a spark. It’s beautiful, Steve thinks. He loves it when his brush does it. He feels like a wizard when the pigment dissolves into the clear again - as if it had never been there before. Hidden in the masses of molecules, disguised only as long as it stays in its entity. Not too much - too much is never good.

Another drop lands in the water, but now it starts to taint in washed color. Steve still loves it - it’s still magical. But there is something he loves even more. And it’s right there in front of him - not really. But almost. Depicted in oranges and browns, purples and blues, yellows, greens and reds - your eyes stare back at him with adoration. And Steve’s heart skips. Then it clenches and stops. It always does that... when the admonition flashes in his mind.

It’s not real.

He has to remind himself too often. But he can’t help it. It’s too comforting to live in his fantasies - warm and safe - all he ever needed. Now it hurts with every stroke he dares. It’s not like he hasn’t done it dozens of times before. A notebook filled with sketches hidden beneath the mattress in his bedroom serves as proof of this. It never does anything other than remind him of what will never be a reality, though. You in his arms, you with love painted on your face for him.

His thumb strokes over the dried paint on the canvas but a part of his finger still smudges it. Damn it, he hasn’t checked his fingers. Now there’s purple on your face, out of place and destroying - but daring all the same. It looks quite beautiful beneath your eyes, makes them shine brighter, makes your smile softer somehow.

Steve sighs. The purple streak is going to stay for now. He washes his brushes out in the sink, recapping the bottles of paint scattering the studio he’s in. And before long, he flicks the lights off and locks the door. Professor Potts gave him the key for ‘when he needed to let it all out again’. He needs to show her some work soon.

It’s dark out when he reaches the path to his dorm. Stars shine as bright as they can against the unrelenting city lights. It’s hopeless. Just like Steve’s track of time when he paints you, the stars don’t stand a chance. It’s well over midnight when Steve unlocks his room. Bucky would be up. He has been out, drinking with Sam. But even if he would have stayed home, he probably couldn’t sleep... like always. So, Steve doesn’t bother being quiet.

“Another late-night date with the canvas?” The brunette peers over his phone, though his eyes hold concern for Steve. He has told him hundreds of times before. Go out. Meet people. Don’t dig yourself deeper into this hopeless crush. But Steve never listened. He likes his hopelessness. And, besides, even if he tried to get over you, he knows it wouldn’t be possible.

His smile finds the ground before he disappears into the bathroom where his sunken eyes stare back at him. He would be dreaming about you tonight - he always does when he paints you. And he looks forward to it, too.

❁ ❁ ❁

You pass by him once again. It’s weird, because Steve swears he’s smiling, but his mouth won’t listen. He looks like an idiot. If only he could talk to you - Yeah, no. that isn’t an option. Because just thinking about it makes his heart go crazy fast. It’s scary because you’re so beautiful. And he knows he shouldn’t size himself down to leagues and scales, but how can he not when literally all of college is all about it? Bucky says he should grow some balls and ask you out or leave it be. But here’s the thing: he can’t leave it be - and he can most definitely not talk to you. It’s too scary - too foreign.

His brush dips back into lilac. He embraces the smudge now. Hated it for a while - but then it grew on him. Now it needs more shades. His tongue darts out as he tries to precisely draw along the curve of your cheekbone. He gets a little excited and his hand wants to shake, but he can hold it steady, he has practiced it enough.

Now another stroke. And another. Steve finds amusement in the color pouring onto his canvas. The smudge might have been the best mistake he’s ever made. Then again, there are no mistakes in painting. Accidents are meant to happen. They show the painter what their mind wants to see.

“Is that... me?” Steve’s hands go flying and the brush throws purple all around him.

Oh no. Code red code red code red - that’s a fucking code red!

You just stand there as Steve flinches with the wooden brush hitting the floor, paint sprinkles covering your face - stunned, silent. This is a nightmare. He’s holding his breath. Really, there’s nothing he can do but hope he won’t pass out from the way your eyes bore into his wide and shocked. Though there is a softness in them still. You’re not angry - at least he doesn’t think so. Maybe, if he’s still a little longer, he’ll just disappear.

That doesn’t happen. Obviously. Because god hates him.

His mouth opens, but there is not a sound formed by his tongue. He should apologize - he needs to apologize. God, but your eyes look too pretty with the purple accentuating your skin. He’s not even mad about it. He could look at it forever, look at you forever. Not that he doesn’t already do exactly that for the majority of his day. But still.

“Are you okay?” You blink out of your trance and now Steve is panicking even more. “No need to apologize, by the way, I’m fine. Just got caught in a paint grenade.” Your eyes wander down your body and now Steve can see the fine blotches of lilac seeping into your shirt. It's white - shit.

“I-” He’s trying, he really is. But something isn’t working up there. He just short circuits - wires smoking and all. It’s a complete mess. No wonder he can’t talk. And then your pretty gaze - he just needs to feel it and he’s melting away and, oh shit did you just see the painting? There are several stages of disaster but on a measure from failing a test to your mom dying, this is a six on the Richter scale. Why can’t he just say something?

He opens his mouth again and a weird noise escapes his tongue. What the fuck was that? By the look on your face, he can tell you’re just as surprised. But then your shoulders sag and you sigh.

“I shouldn’t have startled you like that, that was my fault. But this,” your gesture towards your shirt, “this is yours.” He swallows thickly, you seem to be really mad about that shirt. “You really speared nothing but that canvas.”

Now his body turns to the project propped up behind him. The canvas, right. You stare back at him, and now that you actually stand so close before him, he’s impressed at how lifelike he made your portrait. He’s surrounded by you, staring him down, but somehow your presence calms him. One last look at the purple smidge beneath your painted eyes and the breath returns to his lounges.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says when he spins back to you.

A small smile is placed on your lips and it reminds him of the series of sketches he made while you were laughing with your friends the other day. “Oh, so you can talk.”

“Sometimes,” he mutters to himself but he’s sure you’ve heard it. He turns to look at the painting again as he curses his carelessness. He can’t even stop you when you step forward to have a closer look at the artwork yourself. It’s too late now, anyway.

You reach forward but halt just in time. Unlike Steve, you didn’t smear the paint on your fingers all over the piece. “It’s very good.”

Of course, it is. He puts everything in his paintings. All the things he can’t say. And, as he just noticed, that’s a whole lot.

“Thank you.” It’s small but it slips past his lips with ease. He never likes to accept compliments, but it’s different when you give them. He seeks your approval, especially now that you have caught him shamelessly reaping a piece of your privacy with his obsession.

Your eyes sway to him and then back to your portrait, and Steve is enchanted by the way your skin looks when the light hits it just right. He makes a mental note to draw you like this when he gets home - that is if you haven’t forbidden him to do so anymore. But who is he kidding? He’ll do it anyway, it’s an addiction.

His feet take him closer to you, and soon he’s gazing over your shoulder from a foot away, watching you watch the painting that’s looking right back at him. He’s trapped in the gaze he created and it’s taunting him: This is a mess. Then why doesn’t it feel messy?

Steve is so close to you, he can smell your shampoo, the faint remnant of the perfume you put on this morning, probably. It’s intoxicating, it draws him in and he can’t take his eyes off of you. His fingers are itching to touch you. He can imagine his hand moving your collar away to trail kisses from your shoulder to your collarbone - stop it, Steve. His face is heating up and his hands clench beside his body.

“How long have you been working on this?” You spin around now suddenly, those lively eyes stare back at him, more intense - more real than he’s used to. And Steve can’t handle it, but his body isn’t looking away either.

“Not that long,” he whispers as his focus lands on a moderate splatter of lilac beneath your eye. It’s not a lie, he’s memorized your features. Steve doesn’t even register your answer, he’s fixated on that little purple drop of color on your skin. It has a hold on him, he can’t do anything.

“Why are you staring like that? Do I have something on my face?” It’s a silly joke, but Steve can’t tell you that you do. It would risk you swiping it away. And he can’t have that. Not when he wants to do it himself. He can’t do that, though, the purple spot is mocking him. And then, suddenly, like a bystander, he watches his hand move towards your face. He can’t stop it, it’s like an accident - he just needs to look, but he can’t do anything about it either.

When his thumb finally makes contact with your skin, the world around him freezes again. There you are, so close before him, he’s touching your face, and it’s nothing like he thought it would be. He’s calm - so calm. Why is that? What is wrong with him?

Steve can hear your breath hitch when his fingers settle beneath your ear, his thumb resting next to the droplet of paint. He can finally feel his heart beating again, it’s getting faster now. He moves to wipe the lilac from your face, but he’s betrayed once again. The paint leaves a smudge beneath your eye and Steve is having flashbacks from the night before.

Now you look just like his painting - his vision mixed with the perfect reality presented before him and he’s not sure, he can handle it. The world seems to spin when you take his hand from your face and look at the color on his finger. Then your eyes flick back up and his gaze locks with yours. Is this really happening? It feels so surreal.

The moment takes over Steve’s brain. It’s like he’s in one of those movies Sam likes to watch. There should be some piano queued in a second and then the main characters lean in to finally kiss in the rain. This won’t happen here, this is reality. But somehow, Steve isn’t so sure about it as soon as he thinks it.

Your eyes are still staring into his, wide, and it’s as if you’re not quite sure what’s happening either. If you feel anything like him at the moment, you must be captivated by the atmosphere that has been built around you. Steve is sure it can’t just be his big fat crush on you. It’s something new, something that just happened - the moment you took his hand in yours.

Oh wow, you are leaning in. Panic surges up his spine. He can’t do it, not like this. This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re the princess and he’s the rat living in the peasant’s walls. But suddenly you're lips connect with his and it’s so simple, so effortless. He’s questioning everything at this point. Maybe you’re a witch and he’s a black cat. You are a little wicked, after all. And the way this feels - you and him - it’s like you belong together.

The hand that is still holding his guides him to your waist where it’s placed with promise. Steve can feel the paint transferring to the white cotton beneath his fingers but he’s too busy trying not to faint. He has done this before. He knows how to kiss, but he feels like a toddler with training wheels now that he gets to actually taste you. When your hand snakes around the back of his head, however, he regains consciousness. Your fingers press into his skin and he finally moves his lips in unison with yours. He can taste the minty aftertaste of gum on your tongue when he dares to explore it and he’s sinking into you like melted chocolate. Your breath tickles his cheek and when he pulls you a little closer to him, a surprised huff escapes your kiss.

Then your hand slips from his neck and pushes gently against his chest. He pulls back, dazed eyes staring back at you. He’s yearning for more, whatever this was, and he’s chasing to stay in the universe you catapulted him into for a second longer.

Your gaze travels over to the portrait again, then back to him and your thumb grazes over his sweater. “You owe me a new shirt.”

“Anything you want.” It’s a husky whisper in which his eyes stay fixated on the movement of your lips. He would say yes to about anything right now. His brain is mush.

“It’s a date, then.” It looks like you want to nod, but you’re still staring at him with those tranced eyes - Steve can’t get enough of it.

He swallows thickly. “Okay.”

And then you just smile and leave him standing there, longing for a second more of your presence. But you have turned the corner faster than he can register and that’s when reality is setting back into his brain. It’s like he is snapped out of a vivid daydream, but he can still taste the mint on his tongue and he still has the purple smear on his finger. This was real, this actually happened.

His eyes get caught on the painting once more. Intensely staring back at him with mockery: You’re an idiot. He knows that.

“Shut up,” he whispers to the drying paint on the canvas as he moves to pick up his brush again. But now that he has had the real thing, his drawings don’t do you justice anymore.

I know it's a little weird, but I like it. I hope you do, too. You are welcome to share your thoughts - reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 💙

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