#steve rogers age gap
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| run hot |
Summary: Visiting Aunt Nat at the new Avengers Facility was not at all what you expected it to be: stolen kisses, pretty lakes, and your secret being uncovered.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader
Word count: 6k
Warnings: Fluff, age gap (same as in part 1), smut-about-to-happen, Steve being vulnerable and kinda sad, Steve also being defensive, super-spy Natasha, that’s all
Note: This is part two to this previous fic
_______________
“Mom-”
“Did you pack your toothbrush?”
“Yes, but mom-”
“What about your charger? How will I call you if your phone’s dead?”
“I packed my charger.”
“You sure? Why don’t you double check, just in case?”
“Honey,” your dad’s voice drifted from the doorway, causing both you and your frantic mother to turn towards it. “She already has everything she needs.”
Your mom huffed. “How can you be so sure?”
Your dad sighed, then pushed himself off the door frame and walked over to her. “Because you’ve been over this with her a million times already.”
He enveloped her in a hug, and her head rested heavily on his shoulder. Your eyes met hers, and you gave her an empathetic smile.
“I’m just worried, that’s all,” she said, the words muffled against your dad’s shirt.
He pulled back, then turned to look at you with a smile and a tilt of his head. “You have nothing to be worried about.”
“Yeah, mom, I think I’ll be able to manage a week away from you,” you cut in, and you saw her shoulders slump. She stepped forward and grabbed you by your shoulders, studying your face for a moment before speaking.
“That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
Your mom sighed, and looked to your father hesitantly before glancing back at you. “I just... There’s been so many bad things going on in the world lately, and you’re gonna be so far away from us-”
Her voice cracked towards the end of her sentence, and it broke your heart along with it. You shook your head and gave her hand a small squeeze.
“Laura,” your dad said softly, bringing a hand up to her shoulder, “she’ll be staying at a highly-guarded facility with a bunch of superhumans. There’s not a single place in the world she’d be safer.”
“Aunt Nat wouldn’t have invited me if she didn’t think it was safe,” you added hopefully, and it took a moment, but your mother finally nodded.
Taking in a deep breath, she straightened her back and cleared her throat. She gave your arm a final squeeze before smiling. “I’m heading downstairs. Natasha’ll be here any minute to pick you up.”
You and your father stood side by side and watched her leave, before you turned to look at each other.
“Is she like this with you?” you asked him with a skeptical brow.
“Every damn time, kiddo,” he said with a sigh.
__________
“Jeez, Nat, this place is huge,” you gaped as you walked in through the main entrance of the facility. “How do you guys not get lost in here?”
Natasha chuckled as she threw an arm over your shoulders, pulling you along with her down a long hallway with big windows and high ceilings. “Practice, kid.”
Your eyes kept drinking in everything the facility had to offer, from high tech elevators and doors, to meeting rooms filled with people in suits and lab coats, barely sparing you a glance as you walked passed their open doors.
Everything else was a flash of movement and excitement that you were actually, finally here, until Nat ushered you into a large room with couches, matching chairs, a huge desk and a few overflowing bookshelves.
The conversation in the room died down once all eyes fell on you, and you felt your heart stutter with nerves. You knew all of these people - of course you did. But they didn’t know you. At least, not all of them. Your eyes bounced between the girl you knew was Wanda, and Sam Wilson, contemplating which one to approach and introduce yourself to first, when a familiar voice to your right tore your attention away from them.
“Hey-”
You met the source of the voice with furrowed brows.
“I know you,” he said, and got up from his desk chair, circling the corner of the desk while pointing a finger at you. “You’re Barton’s kid, right? Finally here to meat the rest of these shitheads?”
You sighed, partially in relief, and partially because you knew what was in store for you for the next seven days. “Yeah, Tony. It’s me. I wouldn’t say they’re shitheads though.”
“Oh no, they’re shitheads, alright,” Tony said with an affirmative nod.
He pointed to Wanda and she rolled her eyes as he said, “She’s the smallest shithead here.”
Wanda seemed to completely ignore his statement as she stepped towards you and, shockingly, engulfed you in a warm hug.
“And he’s the biggest shithead here,” she whispered into your ear, and you had to bite back a smile.
“I’m Wanda,” she said as she pulled back, and her energy had your shoulders relaxing and your breath evening out.
“I’m Y/N,” you said, and before Wanda could reply, she was pushed to the side and replaced by a smirking Falcon.
“And I’m Sam, but you can call me anytime,” he said confidently with his hand held out.
You stared at him, mouth slightly hanging open, as you looked back and forth between his hand and his face. You shook his hand skeptically, and he gave you a wink. You heard both Natasha and Wanda groan from behind you, and the whole situation was so weird you almost burst out laughing.
Almost.
You would’ve, if it wasn’t for someone clearing their throat in the doorway.
Your head snapped to the side, and you felt yourself go weak in the knees as your gaze met his blue one. It took all the energy you possessed to look indifferent as he walked slowly towards you.
“Why don’t you stick to girls your own age, hm, Wilson?” his deep voice drawled, and you had to cover your shocked laugh with a cough at the hypocrisy in his words.
“You okay, honey?” Nat asked, resting a caring hand on your back, and you nodded as you waved her off.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m- I’m good,” you said, taking in a deep breath. “I’m fine, really.”
You met Steve’s eyes again, and you could’ve sworn the bastard had the smallest smile known to man playing at his lips, just to spite you.
“Y/N,” he said quietly. “Nice to see you again.”
You nodded slowly, hoping nobody around you could see the shake in your hands as you tightened your grip on your duffel bag. “Likewise, Steve.”
His gaze continued to bore into you, and all you could think as you stared back at him was they don’t know they don’t know they don’t know.
They didn’t know the abundance of texts you and Steve shared, or the late night phone calls that lasted until sunrise most times (”How did you even get my number?” “Swiped it from Nat’s phone, duh.”), or the many, many pictures sent between the two of you.
You could’ve gotten lost in his eyes, just as bright as the first time they met yours, and you felt the world around you darken. It was almost like he was getting closer. How long were you standing there, staring at each other? It didn’t matter; it felt like an eternity.
“Okay,” Tony’s grating voice spoke, pulling you from your hypnotized states with a sharp clap of his hands. “That just got awkward. Don’t really think Capsicle and Barton Jr. like each other all that much.”
When you spared a glance back at Steve, you noticed he was still standing where he had been, not an inch closer to you than before. It was just the whirlpool of his intoxicating stare, it seemed.
“Anyways,” Tony continued, looking back and forth between everyone in the room. “Who’s up for a party tonight?”
__________
You tugged at the tight material stuck on your body like cling-wrap as you huffed out a sigh. When Natasha said you could borrow one of her dresses for the party, you hadn’t expected her to shove you into something so unforgiving. You pulled at the hem as you attempted to cross a leg over the other without flashing anyone in the room or spilling your virgin cocktail all over yourself in the process.
Letting out a heavy breath, you took a sip and let your eyes roam across the waves of people talking, laughing, drinking, catching sight of a very intoxicated Sam Wilson hanging an arm around an annoyed Aunt Nat as he threw his head back in laughter with a couple other agents.. She caught your eye and her grimace quickly morphed into a smile and a wink. You smiled back at her, lifting your glass in the air above you before the crowd closed in again and swallowed them up.
The smile on your face faltered, and you let your shoulders slump as you fell back into the soft couch (Tony really spared no expense in this place), and you went back to people-watching.
“This seat taken?”
You lifted your eyes to find Steve pointing at the couch with a boyish grin, and you motioned for him to sit.
“You okay?” he asked, words dipped slightly in concern, but you only shrugged, then nodded.
“Yeah, I’m fine. A bit bored, but...”
“Bored?” Steve asked teasingly. “How on earth can you be bored at a Tony Stark party?”
You caught the sarcasm in his tone and gave him a look that had him smiling and tilting his head. He took in a deep breath and mirrored your pose, leaning back against the couch himself and letting his head fall onto the cushions.
“Seriously, though,” he pressed. “You wouldn’t be bored if you actually talked to someone.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, your glass freezing just in front of your lips as you stared at him. “Well I guess the person I want to talk to the most just likes ignoring me.”
Steve’s entire demeanor changed, the teasing smile dropping from his lips, and you wished you could take back the words you had meant as a joke. It was too late though; he was already worried, and upset, and you knew what it looked like and what it entailed.
“Steve-”
“Sweetheart, I’m not ignoring you,” he said, voice barely heard above the music and the talking and the laughter and the glass clinking.
“I know-”
He cut you off again, looking around the room quickly before coming in closer to you. “I’ve been trying to get Tony off my tail all night. I can’t exactly tell him I want to spend alone time with Barton’s daughter.”
You sighed. Your head fell back against the couch, and you stared deeply into Steve’s ocean blue eyes, already feeling the miniscule amount of anger you had withheld dissipate with every passing second.
“I know,” you whispered, loud enough for his superhuman hearing to pick up. “I’m sorry.”
Steve shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for, baby.”
You tapped your nail on the glass in your hand, letting the dull vibrations of the music travel through the couch, up your spine, into your head as you sat there, content to take in the sight of Steve Rogers in a button up with the sleeves rolled up halfway, right in front of you.
You watched as his gaze slid downwards, and his brows furrowed. He shook his head slightly, and before you could ask what was wrong, he lifted his eyes back to yours and grabbed your hand.
“C’mon.”
“Where?” you asked, even as you hastily set your glass on the coffee table and tried pulling your dress down with one hand as he led you away from the couch.
“You’ll see,” he threw over his shoulder, and you had no choice but to squeeze his hand a little bit tighter as he wove you through the crowd of people you didn’t know.
Your senses were a blur, dim lights mixed with an occasional scream of happiness and the smell of alcohol hanging in the air, and all you could train your focus on was Steve’s broad back as he led you away from the party, through a pair of glass doors, and out onto a huge porch.
The doors slid shut behind you, effectively muffling the music inside and leaving you with just the shuffling of a few other people outside, their chattering muted and calm, and the uneasy yet tranquil feeling of being surrounded by stars, trees and moonlight.
“Stevie, what are we-”
“Shh,” he hissed, looking over his shoulder subtly. “Half the people at these parties Stark throws are from tabloids or news programs.”
You understood, not taking it personally when his hand dropped yours, because he motioned with his head for you to follow him down the steps. You did, following him in silence across the large expanses of green grass, broken only by the occasional stone path, until you met the line of trees circling the large lake.
At this point, you were far enough from the compound, and certain enough that no wandering eyes could see you in the dark, that you grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him toward you. He seemed to have the same idea, because as soon as he stopped walking, he surged forward and pressed his lips against yours.
His calloused hands found the sides of your face, and your own hands scrambled to find purchase on his waist, his chest, his shoulders, anywhere you could reach as his warm lips melted against yours for the first time in weeks.
You felt your heart pick up it’s pace, and you felt like it was about to burst out from behind your ribs with the need and longing it had been carrying for what seemed like forever. You heard it in your ears, felt it in your throat, pulsing in your fingertips, and by the smirk Steve molded against your hungry lips, you knew the bastard could hear it too.
His hands left your face, dropping to circle your waist and pull you in closer, and your arms found themselves wrapping around his neck. You pulled back only when your lungs burned, and Steve gave you only a couple seconds to get your breathing in order before going in to kiss you again.
He sighed into your lips, his breath warm and minty, and the little whimper you let out was completely involuntary, but valid all the same.
Steve gave your bottom lip a soft bite with his teeth, before pulling away with a slight groan. His thumbs stroked your sides as he looked down at you, and you swore you had never seen someone as devastating and gorgeous as him, right here, right now, with his cheeks rosy and lips red, blue eyes just a shade darker than what they normally were.
“Missed doin’ that,” he muttered into the quiet air, and you smiled.
“Eh, not bad,” you said with a shrug, and he raised his brows.
Your smile only grew, and you dropped your head to leave a soft kiss to the base of his throat before whispering up at him, “I’m only kidding.”
Steve shook his head in defeated amusement, then looked out through the trees in front of the two of you. “C’mon. I wanna show you something.”
You let him lead you by the hand through the wooded area, under the thicket of branches and leaves, rustling slightly in the wind, until you reached the edge of the lake.
Steve chuckled at the surprise on your face that was hard to hide when you were met with a sight you had only ever dreamed of: underneath on of the largest trees lining the edge of the lake was a soft blanket, covered with heaps of pillows and a couple books. The lake in front of you was blue and vast, and stretched out further than you could see, glittering calmly in the moonlight.
“Steve...?”
He didn’t reply, only pulled you along further until you reached the rich, white blanket draped across the grass.
“What... who-”
Steve hummed as he waited for you to gather your thoughts. In the meantime, he crouched down in front of you and started taking your heels off for you. You held onto his shoulder for support while your eyes flittered from him, to the pillows, to the lake, then back to him. The only sounds in the air were the chirps of crickets and the muffled, quiet party music from the compound.
“Stevie, this is...,” you breathed as you took his hand, and he helped you lower yourself on the plushy blanket. “This is beautiful.”
Steve, bless his heart, had the audacity to shrug and shake his head. “It’s really just...”
He sighed as he trailed off, making himself comfortable next to you. He leaned back on his hands as he stared out at the lake. “I come here when I feel overwhelmed. To read, or draw. Or just... sit and think when it all becomes too much up there.”
No matter how much of a casual tone he pushed with the words, however, you sensed the heaviness weighing them down, the sad tint to the edges of his voice that had you frowning.
You were afraid to speak for a moment, not willing to ruin the serenity of the night, but you shifted your body when he let out a soft sigh.
“Does it become too much... too often?” you whispered, and he let his chin drop to his chest, before lifting his eyes to yours.
“It does.”
Those two words meant more than what it sounded like. You studied him closely, perfectly sculpted face seeming to glow in the pale moonlight, as you chewed your bottom lip.
“Stevie,” you murmured, casting out a line for him to grab onto before he got lost in his own mind. “You’re a good man.”
At that, he lifted his head completely, turning to you. “Am I?”
You frowned harder, brows meeting each other at his doubtfulness. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
He had nothing to say to that, but the way he turned his head away from you made it obvious that he disagreed.
You sighed heavily, before getting up onto your knees next to him. The sounds of you moving were enough for him to look back at you, and when he did, you threw your leg across his lap, effectively straddling him. He shifted underneath you, bringing his hands up to squeeze your hips as your own palms cupped his face.
“I know...,” you started, not sure how to begin, but willing to try. “I know it’s hard for you, feeling like you always have to do the right thing. Like you can’t fail anyone. Like you’re not allowed to fail. And it’s not fair to you, Steve. It really isn’t. It’s not fair that the world puts its weight on your shoulders and expects you to carry it, as if it’s not a burden.”
Something in Steve’s gaze softened, and his fingers dug deeper into the partially exposed skin of your hips. You kept talking.
“It’s not fair that they expect you never to break. You’re still only a man. You’re allowed to be hurt, and feel broken, and be lost sometimes. You just need someone there to help you put the pieces of yourself back together again.”
Steve’s eyes had gone glassy as he stared up at you, and your fingers caressed his cheeks, his jaw, his hairline.
“It’s okay for you to feel lonely sometimes, too. Everyone does. Just because you’re Captain America, doesn’t mean you’re a robot. It doesn’t mean you don’t have a breaking point. You’re Steve Rogers, first and foremost, and I need you to remember that any time someone asks too much of you.”
His chest rose with deep, shaky breaths, and you kept your fingers tangled in his soft hair as you waited. You would wait a century, if it meant your words meant something in the end.
Steve felt like his chest was going to explode. Like the very universe was pressing in on his soul, urging him to say something, anything. Say what he really wanted to. He had to say it or else he would die, right there on the spot, with the most beautiful girl on the planet sitting patiently on his lap.
“I think I love you,” he whispered.
You were stunned.
Your body shut down. Were your organs failing? Yeah, your organs were probably failing. But it was fine, because the words that fell from Steve’s pretty lips were enough to keep you alive for the next few decades, at least.
His hands froze on your hips as he watched your breathing grow shallower, and you just stared and stared and stared at him. He was beginning to think he had made a horrible, grave mistake, until an unbelievable smile grew on your lips.
“I think I love you too,” you whispered back.
Steve felt like the air disappeared from his lungs.
But it was fine, because you were breathing life into him anyways.
He couldn’t help the warm, soft feeling deep in his gut as he smiled and pulled you in for a kiss.
Your dress had ridden up over your butt, allowing Steve’s hands to roam freely wherever they desired, fingers trailing underneath the edges of your panties. Your breath quickened against his mouth, and a low groan left his throat when you grinded your hips against him.
“Steve-” you gasped against his lips, attempting to pull away but failing when one of his hands grasped the back of your neck.
Steve felt himself grow even harder at the sound of his name so pretty on your tongue, and he hummed lowly in response, moving his lips downwards, across your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your burning skin. You threw your head back, almost forgetting what you wanted to say, when a particularly loud bang sounded from the compound as a new song started, bringing you back to the present.
“Are we doing this right here?” you panted, unable to stop your hips from pressing against him of their own accord. “Right now?”
Steve looked up at you, trailing his hands up to encase your upper back. A whisper of a smile was painted on his flushed lips, and his heavy lidded eyes drank you in.
“I don’t think I’ll make it to the rooms,” he replied, voice deep and hoarse, a stark contrast to the soft tranquility of the night. It sent chills down your spine, and a warm pool of desire lit its fire deep in your stomach.
“Fine, then,” you concluded, and pushed your hands against his chest. He went down, flat against the blanket, and looked up at you with a shocked blink.
“We’re doing this here.”
__________
The smell of coffee tugged you toward the kitchen, growing stronger with each step you took.
You had woken up in your own bed, dressed in your pajamas with your makeup from the previous night taken off. You hadn’t remembered much; only that Steve had waited for most of the guests to leave before taking you upstairs in the middle of the night, carrying you in his arms as if you were the most precious thing on earth. You supposed, to him, you might have been.
He had helped you undress, pulling your pajamas on for you, and laying you down in bed before gently wiping your makeup off. You were so worn out, you had barely managed to thank him before you were out like a light.
Now, however, you felt like a brand new person. The only thing missing was a big cup of steaming hot coffee to help you start your day.
“Good morning, honey,” you heard as soon as you stepped foot into the kitchen, and you found Natasha sitting at the large island with a tablet and her own coffee set in front of her.
“Mornin’, Auntie Nat,” you mumbled, ambling over to her and placing a kiss to the side of her head.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
You nodded in response, turning towards the counter and grabbing the coffee pot. You stood on your tippy toes to reach a mug from the overhead cabinet, grunting lightly once your fingers finally latched onto it.
“That’s good,” Nat muttered into her cup. You felt her watchful eyes on you, and poured your mug full to the brim before turning back around.
“Laura mentioned something about you not being able to sleep well in different places,” Natasha continued, her eyes dropping down to her tablet on the table. “So I was just wondering if the bed was okay.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down on the island stool beside her. “It was great, actually.”
“Not too soft? Not too hard?” Natasha questioned, even as her eyes stayed glued to some sort of file in front of her. “Wasn’t too cold, was it?”
Your own eyes narrowed slightly as you hesitated. Did she know? No. It was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
“No,” you said suspiciously after taking a sip. “It was fine.”
Natasha hummed and nodded, barely paying you any mind as she lifted her mug to her lips. She took a sip, put it down, then continued scrolling. It all seemed too casual.
Finally, her blue eyes looked at you from the side, and you could tell by the subtle smirk on her lips that you were royally fucked.
“Super soldiers do tend to run hot.”
If your mug wasn’t already on the island, it would’ve slipped from your fingers and came crashing down. Much like your world right now, collapsing in around you as you felt your heart stutter. You stared at Natasha, and she continued to ignore you, turning her eyes away from you again.
“You-”
“Hm?”
“You don’t- you can’t-”
“What?”
She sounded bored, and completely uninterested. It only made you spiral further, feeling threatened, like a wild animal backed into a corner.
You finally settled on, “How?”
Natasha sighed, and finally, finally, turned to look at you completely. Her lips held a smile; one you couldn’t tell if it meant good news or bad news.
“Y/N, sweetie,” she said through a sigh, “I’m a spy. I’ve been a spy my entire life. If you thought this was something I wouldn’t notice, you’re seriously underestimating my abilities. To be honest, I’m kind of offended.”
Your mouth was left hanging open, and her smirk only grew.
“But you... why did you...”
“Why did I what? Bring you out here?”
You nodded, and she sighed again, this time getting up from her seat to walk over to the sink. She set her empty mug in it, then turned back around to face you. All the while, you sat and watched her in dumbfounded silence.
“Look. I knew the entire time. I knew it the morning we left the farm. I knew it when I figured out Rogers had been rummaging through my phone. I knew it when he, all of a sudden, had someone to talk to every single day, which he hadn’t had before.”
“So... why did you convince mom and dad to let me come?”
Natasha pursed her lips to the side and crossed her arms. She squinted her eyes as she took you in. “Because I trust him.”
Your brows furrowed, and you gave her a slight shake of your head. You weren’t following.
“I trust Steve,” she reiterated, and you bit the inside of your cheek.
You felt like one wrong word from you could send this conversation and situation in a whole different direction, so you stayed silent.
“I was angry at first, of course,” she continued. “I love you. I’ve known you since you were just a toddler. You’re my family, Y/N. And Steve is... well, he’s not exactly your age.”
You felt a pang in your heart at the heavy reality of her words, and you opened your mouth, willing to fight for your side of the story, but she cut you off.
“However,” she said with raised brows. “I thought about it. A lot, actually. And I figured, if I was to leave you in the hands of anyone, it would be Steve. Because Steve’s a good man, with a heart of gold, and I know he’d do anything in his power to protect the people he loves. So I called you over just to confirm it for myself, and to see if it was really worth giving a shot.”
You nodded at her words as you stared at the coffee swirling in your mug, agreeing with them as you felt your heart rate slow down once you figured out Natasha probably wasn’t going to give you the scolding of a lifetime. But someone else might, you realized.
Panic flared in your bones as you looked at her. “Are you gonna tell mom and dad?”
Natasha cocked her head as she studied you. It lasted a beat too long, and your pulse picked up again, dread beginning to settle in your veins.
Until she said: “No.”
“What?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, yet she only shrugged.
“I won’t tell them,” she said, and began to walk out of the kitchen, passing by you in a blur of red hair and black cotton. “If you promise to tell them yourself.”
“Nat, no-”
“Yes. Trust me, they’d much rather hear it coming from you than me. And I know them well. They might be mad for a while, but they’ll come around.”
Natasha left you sitting at the island alone, the coffee in your mug now room temperature as you chewed your bottom lip until it bled.
You were most likely, grandly, royally, fucked.
__________
Finding Steve was easier than expected, especially since the briefing room he was in had glass doors, allowing for the perfect view inside.
You burst in, smudging the glass with your hands, frantic eyes searching the room for his bond head of hair until you spotted him at the head of the table, Tony to his right, Sam to his left, and Wanda, Vision and a guy you only knew as War Machine occupying the rest of the chairs.
All eyes turned to you as you gasped out Steve’s name.
“Um, kid, we’re kinda in the middle of something-”
“Y/N?” Steve interrupted Tony, making him roll his eyes.
“Can you- could you-”
You couldn’t formulate the words, couldn’t get them out of your head and into the open so you pleaded with your eyes, begging for him to just understand.
“Do you mind-”
“Steve-”
Steve shot up out of his chair, sending it rolling with a bang into the wall behind him, and it took him three long strides until he was right in front of you, ignoring the protests coming from the rest of the team.
“Are you okay?” he asked, soft enough that only you could hear.
His hands twitched to hold your face, his arms burned to pull you into his chest, his lips ached to cover your face with kisses. But he couldn’t do any of that, not in front of them.
“Steve, I need to talk to you, right now,” you said urgently, tugging on his arm like a child asking for ice cream, and he frowned with concern.
“Rogers, you better not leave this room-”
“C’mere,” he muttered, ignoring everyone else as he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you out of the briefing room. The glass door swung shut behind you, and he pulled you slightly to the side.
He couldn’t help it; he reached a hand up to cup your face, and you leaned your cheek into its warmth, letting it spill inside you and calm your erratic nerves ever so slightly. Your own hand came up to his, fingers wrapping around his wrist as you looked up at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” he pleaded, keeping his voice low.
“Aunt Nat knows,” you whispered, on the verge of tears. The confusion was evident on his face, blue eyes staring at you in curiosity.
“She what?”
“She knows, Stevie, she knows,” you pressed. “About us.”
You watched, in real time, as Steve’s face contorted into realization. “Baby-”
“She wants me to tell my parents,” you told him. “She said I have to do it or else she will.”
Steve shook his head, trying to calm you down, but you were on the brink of hysterics, he realized, and he took a step closer to you before engulfing you in a bear hug that had your face buried in his large chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat gave you something real, something alive to focus on as you tried calming your own.
“It’s gonna be fine,” he muttered into the crown of your head. Your arms snaked around his waist, fingers gripping his sweater like your life depended on it.
“You don’t know that,” you said, the words muffled against his chest, and he huffed a sigh that had your head moving along with it.
“Yes, I do.”
Steve sounded so sure, so certain in his words, that you had no choice but to relax against him. You rationalized it; he never had any reason to lie to you before, so why would he do it now? You trusted him, always.
Steve, on the other hand, felt your body relax against his, and after a few quiet moments, he heard your heartbeat go back to a normal pace. He ignored the stares through the glass doors as he pulled you away from him and bent his neck slightly so he was at your eye level.
“Trust me,” he said. “It’ll be okay. We’ll work it out.”
And he said the words with such certainty, that it had you nodding, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” you repeated, and he placed a quick kiss to your forehead.
“I have to get back to this meeting,” he said reluctantly, but you shook your head and stepped away from him. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you realized you had just had a minor breakdown in front of Earth’s mightiest heroes.
“You do what you have to do, it’s okay,” you insisted, patting his chest a couple times before sidestepping him.
“I’ll find you in 20 minutes,” he called after you, and you blew him a kiss once you were out of sight of the others.
Steve stood there, watching you leave until the last traces of you disappeared behind the corner, and then he finally walked back into the meeting room.
It was dead silent.
Borderline awkward.
You could hear a pin drop as their eyes followed him making his way back to his seat. He pulled the chair up to the table calmly before sitting down and clearing his throat.
His eyes flickered to Tony, who was staring at him with an incredulous expression, then to Sam, who was wearing some variety of the same on his face.
“What?” he finally forced himself to ask, and Wanda just blinked, her brows shooting up.
“I didn’t know you had game like that, Rogers,” Sam finally said, and it was the teasing infliction of his voice that broke the tension in the room.
Steve rolled his eyes and sighed.
“I didn’t even think your little friend worked anymore,” Tony said, and Wanda choked on a cough. Steve glared at him.
“What?” Tony asked with his shoulders raised. “It’s been a long few decades, I’m just saying.”
“God, Tony-”
“So is this like a caregiver-slash-senior citizen fetish or something-”
“Sam-”
“I’m kidding, old man.”
Steve let out a heavy breath as he leaned back into his chair. Tony and Sam kept flinging jokes back and forth over the table, with Wanda laughing and Vision pitching in with his own confusing way of asking questions, but none of it mattered.
None of it mattered, because none of them knew.
He would sit there and take all the teasing the world had to offer if it meant he’d still get to hold you in his arms at the end of the day.
In all the rowdy chaos of jokes and laughter flying over Steve’s head, nobody noticed the faint smile on his lips and the pink tinge of his cheeks.
_______________
TAGLIST:
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#marvel#mcu#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#steve rogers#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers angst#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x reader#captain america#captain america x you#captain america x reader#steve rogers age gap#barton!reader
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Chris Evans Age Gap
Masterlist
#chris evans masterlist#chris evans x reader#chris evans smut#chris evans one shot#chris evans headcanon#chris evans fluff#chris evans#chris evans x wife!reader#chris evans x y/n#chris evans x you#chris evans x smut#chris evans fic recs#chris evans fic rec#chris evans imagines#chris evans fic#masterlist#steve rogers#avengers fic rec#chris evans age gap
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📖"Hydra Sanatorium"
Rated: Explicit
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers
Word count: 4608
Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30s), omorashi
Summary:
Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.
Wait! I think I missed a previous chapter! Series Masterlist
Chapter 9: Persistent Genital Arousal
Previously:
This may be (and hopefully is) Bucky's last day as a Hydra patient, but that doesn't mean he won't have some group classes and therapies left to attend with the other boys in his cohort that afternoon and evening. Steve will just have to find a way to fill his own time, leave Bucky to his schedule, and hang in there while he gets the ball rolling to secure Bucky's release into his custody.
That afternoon, Steve completes a plethora of paperwork. He submits his recommendation for Bucky’s care, fills out a formal application for custody, and hands in his letter of resignation to Raynor.
He’s completely transparent with her about his intentions, and Christina isn’t just fair in her response: she seems downright pleased. She does call him a traitor for leaving Hydra, but she’s smirking when she says it, so Steve knows he’ll still be getting a stellar reference from her.
He is officially quitting, but Bucky’s still a patient on-ward—with all the services afforded one—for at least the next twenty-four hours. So to avoid interrupting his scheduled therapies and groups, Steve tries to keep himself busy, closing out his cases and saying goodbye to some of his more friendly coworkers. Hydra Sanatorium might not be the nicest or the most well-funded place, but for a county-run institution it’s always done the best it can with what it has for the people who come through its halls. Lord knows Steve has. After five years of working there, doing his best to help the people that he could, Steve hopes he made some sort of a difference. In one case, at least, he knows he has.
Later in the day, he goes looking for Bucky and finds him with the rest of his cohort in the soft room. A lot of the boys are napping, the rest of them engaged in various stimming activities. Steve doesn’t immediately spot Bucky, but the room attendant points him towards one of the nesting pods. When Steve pokes his head through the little circular opening into the cave-like space, sure enough there his boy is: nestled amongst an impressive collection of blankets, throws and
pillows.
Inside it smells heavenly, Bucky’s scent built up in the air. All sexually mature omegas experience something called persistent genital arousal, or PGA. It can be more debilitating for some, and it’s definitely more intense at certain points of their cycles, but in general Steve’s heard it described as a low-level thrum of arousal—like what one might feel from touching themselves idly from over their underwear while watching mediocre porn. Essentially, omegas really do always have sex on the brain.
The resultant smell they give off is, of course, one easy identifying marker for any omega out in public, and Bucky is no exception. The nesting pod is already thick with his scent, sweet and cloying, and Steve finds himself breathing in deeply to get more of it as he crawls inside. He smiles when Bucky’s sleepy eyes peek open and register his presence. The boy is beautiful. “Hey,” Steve murmurs.
Bucky lets loose a huge yawn and stretches with a lazy smile, his hair all floofed in different directions and his eyes nothing but puffy, squinty slits. “Stteeeve,” he hums, reaching for him with grabby hands. “Mmm. C’mere.”
How could he ever resist? Steve crawls over and settles next to him, pulling their bodies close together. “Hey you.”
Bucky’s already purring as he wriggles up against him. “Mmm. Hi.” He shoves his face into Steve’s chest and rubs his cheek against his pec, scenting him. “I took’a nap.”
“I can see that.” Steve’s mood is already in the stratosphere, because he’s suffused with Bucky’s scent: happy, safe, content—and yes, mildly aroused—omega. It’s infectious, making Steve’s body respond with all of those same feelings and more. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here, tucked into a tiny, warm nesting space with his omega.
“His” omega, because Steve’s already started thinking of him that way. The transition feels almost seamless, feels natural, like maybe Bucky was his long before he knew it. He rumbles in his chest to match the boy’s purr and holds him close. “Missed you,” he murmurs, speaking against the softness of his hair. “How’s your day been?”
They’ve only been apart for a few hours, but after the intensity of their morning together, Steve hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky’s wellbeing all day, even though he knows he’d left him in a good place, mentally. He’d made sure to bring him down from the high of their sensory session, had tenderly changed him and dressed him in warm, soft clothes, checked that his body’s lingering confusion from the therapy wasn’t anything that was going to cause him discomfort or distress during the day. He’d personally escorted him to his life skills group, kissing him on the cheek and promising to find him later, even watching from the doorway for a few long minutes until he could be certain that Bucky was relaxed and taking to the company of others well.
Now, in the safe confines of the nest, Steve kisses his hair again. “Good?”
Bucky does a happy little wiggle. “Mmm, good,” he mumbles, still seeking contact through the way he rubs himself against Steve’s body. “Missed you.”
It’s like he can’t get close enough, like he’s stubbornly trying to dig himself a space inside of Steve. It’s adorable. Steve smiles and rubs his back. “Me too, Honey. I’ve been getting a lot of things sorted out, so that I can take care of you after today. If you want.”
Bucky peeks up at him. “‘If I want?’”
“Yeah.” He knows that this is a talk they need to have, now that Bucky’s sober and fully back in his head. Steve doesn’t think there’s a high chance that Bucky’s going to change his mind, but they still have to discuss it. Because Steve would be a bad person—and a garbage Alpha support—if he didn’t give him the chance to decide for himself now.
And he’s going to have to tell Bucky about the castration issue. As much as Steve hates it, he can’t deny the sheer medical facts. It’ll help Bucky. His body produces too much testosterone as it is, his testes given too much time to develop before he finally presented. They’ve always known that the elevated hormones are part of what contributes to Bucky’s aggression and his struggles. Steve takes a deep breath and forces composure into his voice. “So, my boss asked me to put in my recommendation for you.”
“Recommendation for what?”
“Um, since your folks signed over custody, the state is in charge of you now until you turn twenty-five. That is, unless you find an alpha guardian to take care of you in a personal capacity. But you know, Hydra isn’t really … it’s more of an acute care facility, right? So even if you didn’t have an Alpha, you’d still have to go somewhere else, like a group home or a treatment facility that’s geared toward longer term stays. My boss asked me to submit my assessment of what your needs are and where you should go. It’s called an ongoing care plan.”
In his arms, Bucky tenses up. “My ongoing care?” he repeats, uncertain.
“Yeah Honey.” Steve tries to smile reassuringly. “There are lots of places where you could go to live other than with me, if you wanted. Nice places.”
Bucky’s face crumples in distress and he keens lowly. “But I … I mean, I thought …” His lip trembles. “You changed your mind? Don’t you want me?”
“What?” Steve’s heart sinks at the way Bucky’s looking at him—as if he’s just revoked a promise Bucky had been counting on. “Oh, Honey,” he mourns, pulling him in close again. He cradles his head and kisses over his hair in apology. “No, no bub. I do want you. I was just trying to be fair and give you all of your options. I didn’t want you to feel obligated. Didn’t want you to feel like you had to make that choice to go with me.”
It’s immediately obvious that his words calm Bucky down. The scent of distress dissipates as quickly as it had formed, and their dimly lit nesting pod is once again filled with nothing but cozy, happy omega pheromones. Bucky butts his head into Steve’s chest and grumbles at him for having scared him. “I always want to go with you, Steve. I don’t want to go anywhere else.”
Steve strokes his back. “Okay, okay. I understand.” His hands dip under the soft fabric of Bucky’s top, tracing up the vertebrae of his spine. It feels good to have the connection of their naked skin again. Steve hums and flushes, aware of his cock having a vague but growing interest. It’s all chubbed up in his briefs, tingling with a low level of arousal. And even though he has little intention of doing anything about it right now, it’s still nice to feel when he’s close to Bucky like this. He turns in towards him a little more, pressing him back and down into the nest with his bodyweight. The boy’s legs part for him on instinct and Steve hums, pleased. He slots his thigh between Bucky’s legs and tucks his face into his neck. “I just want to make you happy, Buck,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like you have to do anything other than what you really want. And if it takes you time to figure that out, then you’re allowed to take your time.”
“Nooo, Steeeve. I want you to be my Alpha. I don’t need to take time. S’stupid.”
Steve scoffs fondly. “Oh yeah?” He searches out the slight swell of Bucky’s bonding glands beneath the skin, closes his lips over the spot, and sucks. Bucky gives a surprised little ‘meep!’ of a sound, then pretty much melts full-body into the blankets. Steve chuckles. “There’s a lot that comes with that, you know. Having an Alpha you’re bonded to is different than just what we do here.”
“Mmm. Yeah. Like you said before, in the bathroom when my tummy was full. You said you could be my for-real Alpha.”
Steve kisses where he’d sucked, the spot now pinked and swollen. “Do you know what that means?” he whispers. “To have a for-real Alpha?” Bucky shivers pleasantly in response to the question, but Steve’s not just asking to get him worked up over it. “Buck,” he prods gently. “C’mon, tell me.”
“Means you’d be in charge a’ me,” Bucky sighs, his scent shifting as he grows more aroused. Beneath Steve, he squirms purposefully against the weight of his body. “I’d live with you, right?”
“Yeah. You’d come live with me and I’d be in charge of you.” Steve nuzzles against him, not missing the way that Bucky’s breath catches in a tiny little sound of pleasure. “Hey now, you might not always like that.” He playfully nips his skin. “There might be times when you’re mad as a hornet at me. That won't change anything. I’ll still be your Alpha. You’ll still have to listen.”
“... Could I still call you Daddy?”
Steve groans and turns his face away from Bucky's neck while the omega giggles at his reaction. “Yeah, Buck. You could.”
“Mmm, and you’ll still call me bub?” he asks, looking up with shining eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. “I um … I kinda always liked that you called me that. Even back when I was new and mean to you and stuff.”
Steve smiles tenderly at him. “I know, bub. That’s why I always did.” He kisses him softly, just once, on the lips. The first time he’s ever let himself do so.
Bucky’s wide-eyed by the time Steve pulls back, looking like a whole new world of possibilities has just been opened up to him. “Oh, man,” he breathes. “Do we get to have sex whenever we want?”
Steve laughs, taken aback. “Buck,” he scolds, but he’s already dipping back down to kiss him again. “Yes. Though I do have to keep a day job, so you can’t go full-on nymphomaniac on me.” Bucky whines and Steve kisses back down to his neck and seals his lips over his tender glands to suck some more. “Mmm, you’re swollen here, Honey,” he murmurs, kissing the spot, thinking that he’ll have to check the kid’s chart to see if he’s nearing estrus. It’d make sense, given how reactive he’s been lately. And, oh god, they’ll definitely need birth control. Steve would love to breed Bucky up, but that’s not something they should take lightly. It’s too soon to pup him, not when so much else is in flux, and Steve still needs to tackle the castration issue with him. There’s a lot to be done. Everything is changing. Steve sucks hard on his glands in one, long pull.
“Oohh,” Bucky moans, both hands coming up to run through Steve’s hair. “Oh, S-steve. Mmm. That feels so good.” He hitches his leg up higher on Steve’s hip, rocking against him, and Steve indulges him by driving his thigh forward to give him more firmness to grind on. Bucky whimpers and jerks. “Oh!”
“Mm hm.” Steve gently scrapes his teeth over the swollen spot on his neck. “I’ll need to bond you, if you’re living in my household long term.”
Bucky whimpers and nods, hips shoving up harder at the feeling of the alpha’s mouth on his glands. “Okay,” he gasps. “Yeah, Steve, do it. I'm ready.” His fingers dig into Steve’s shoulders and he cranes his head further to the side, presenting himself for a bite.
Steve chuckles, the sound morphing into a groan at the end as he denies himself and moves his face away. “Mmm. Not right now, silly. You need to be in heat for that to stick.” He gives him a peck on the lips. “Besides, it’s supposed to be something special.”
“Special?”
“Mm hm.” It kind of breaks Steve’s heart that Bucky doesn’t know this, though he supposes the kid couldn’t possibly have had many positive exposures to A/o relationships, growing up with the family he did. Steve kisses him again, explaining, “We’ll make it nice. Relaxing. Bonding is something special we’ll do in private.” They may currently be sequestered in this dark little space, but Steve sure doesn’t count a communal nesting pod in a state-run Sanatorium to be the appropriate place for such an important, intimate act.
He crawls off of Bucky and moves over to the side, sitting up in the mounds of soft nesting materials with his back against the pod’s wall. “C’mere.”
Bucky happily crawls over to sit in his lap. He straddles him, and Steve’s hands settle at his hips. Steve smiles at the bright teal clothes the kid is wearing now. After their sensory session that morning, he’d helped Bucky to get changed, and teal pants with a tangerine top was what the omega had wanted to wear. “All these years of navy blue,” Steve teases. “And it was just you being stubborn, huh?”
Bucky huffs and squirms, but he doesn’t deny it. “I always liked the colorful ones. I just never picked ‘em because I … I didn’t want to be this way,” he admits softly, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Didn’t want to be just another omega. Dumb and drooling in my rainbow patterned sweatsuits.”
“Bucky,” Steve chides. “That’s not nice. The other boys on-ward don’t deserve that kind of talk, do they? ”
Bucky flushes and looks away. “No,” he mumbles. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean it.”
Steve sighs. Just because Bucky wants to be with him doesn’t mean that the kid’s suddenly going to be well-adjusted. He's got so much internalized omegaphobia from being raised by his asshole parents, it isn't even funny. Steve gives his waist a squeeze and tells him, “Hey: you’re still going to have to go to some therapy, bub. I hope you realize that. Just because you’re leaving here doesn’t mean there won’t be rules and discipline. It doesn’t mean you don’t still have issues you need to work on.”
Bucky grumps about that a little, but eventually he nods his head in understanding. “What rules?” he asks shyly. “‘Discipline’?”
“Mmhm. That mean consequences if you act up. I’ll never be harsh with you, Honey, but being someone’s Alpha also means correcting their misbehavior.”
“Like … like spanking?”
“It could be, yeah.” Steve personally believes in gentle domestic discipline for omegas, so long as it’s administered fairly. He watches Bucky’s reaction carefully. “How does that make you feel, hm? If you knew you might get spanked if you did wrong?”
Bucky squirms a little in his lap before he’ll admit, “I dunno. Maybe embarrassed but … kinda nice, too.”
Steve tilts his head to try and catch Bucky’s eyes. “Nice?” he prods.
“Yeah. Kinda.” Bucky pouts and shrugs. “I dunno. I guess it just, um … it makes it seem like you care about me. Like you’re enjoying takin’ care of me.”
Steve’s heart warms, and he kisses Bucky’s forehead. “I do, baby. I care about you a whole lot, okay?”
“Okay.” Bucky sits there thinking it over, sucking his lip into his mouth and releasing it repeatedly. “What are the rules gonna be?”
“Oh, well … I don't know them all yet, but we'll figure it out. Just be good in general, I guess. Don’t make messes, don’t be rude to people, listen to what I tell you to do. That sort of stuff. My place is in Flatbush, not too far from here. You’ll have to be good, stay there when I go to work. I’m looking at changing jobs, so we might have some time together to start off at first, but then you’ll need to mind yourself when I’m away.”
"I'll be good," Bucky promises, sounding adorably determined. It makes Steve smile.
"I know, bub." He strokes the side of Bucky’s head, running his fingers through the soft curls that he’s come to love so much. “We’ll make you an area in the apartment to nest up real nice, just the way you like it. And I can get some stimming tools if you need ‘em, for during the day. I don’t want to see you ignoring your needs like you have been.” At Bucky’s hips, he digs his fingers in meaningfully, crinkling the plastic of the diaper beneath. “And these,” he says, arching a knowing eyebrow when Bucky peeks up at him. “You still need to wear them.”
Bucky looks mortified, but he does eventually give a reluctant nod. “I know,” he grumbles. “I wasn’t gonna argue about it.”
“Oh really?”
“Mm mn.” He’s blushing and avoidant, bites his lip and tries to wiggle away, but stills when Steve holds fast. He sighs. “I mean I guess I don’t hate ‘em so much.”
“No?”
“Mmn. Not … not when it’s just in private,” he admits. “Sometimes they even make me feel kinda, I dunno, kinda safe. … And when you take care of me with ‘em. That part feels really good.”
Jesus. Steve grips him harder and rumbles deep in his chest, praising him for his honesty. “That’s good, Honey. That’s what they’re for.”
Bucky’s physical level of need for the diapers isn’t actually all that high. He has the same small, spastic bladder that most omegas do, and he suffers from the typical pattern of stress incontinence. Most of his wetting occurs when he’s upset, aroused, or asleep. He could feasibly attempt daily life without them, though accidents would happen. But beyond the practical, it’s the emotional impact of wetting that’s so huge for someone like Bucky. That’s why consistent diapering has always been part of his therapeutic program at Hydra. It’s one routine that Steve intends to maintain once he’s got Bucky home and living with him. “It’s nothing to be worried over,” he reminds gently. “Remember what we talked about?”
Bucky sniffles and nods. “... S’normal,” he recites, voice tiny. “Lots of omegas wear ‘em.”
“That’s right,” Steve praises. “And Alphas don’t care. We like taking care of you. We like seeing you feeling safe, and knowing when it feels good for you.” He sees the color rise in Bucky’s cheeks and hums knowingly. “It’s okay when you enjoy the feeling, bub. Like how you did this morning? That’s totally okay.” Bucky whines and squirms a little, and Steve shushes him. “Hey now: I mean it.”
He uses his grip on Bucky’s hips to rock him in his lap a little, and Bucky squeaks and grabs onto his shoulders, pushing into the motion reactively before he can shame himself out of it. Steve hums, pleased. He leans in and takes Bucky's mouth in another, coaxing kiss. That seems to be the key to disarming the boy. He moans and gives another uninhibited roll of his hips. He keeps going, grinding against Steve’s crotch and panting quietly.
Steve smiles and holds him while he rocks. Ever since he ducked into the nest, he’s been able to smell the general level of arousal that Bucky always carries with him. But now it’s heavier, the distinct scent of new slick and a more urgent sort of need coming to the forefront. All Steve’s talk of discipline and acceptance and care has gotten Bucky worked up. He hums encouragingly as the omega stims himself against his lap. “Aw, Sweetie. There you go. That feel good?”
“Ah, uh huh,” Bucky pants quietly, eyes going a little muzzy as he starts to lose focus. “Oh, Steve, ff-feels good, nnngh …”
“Good. That’s all I want, honey. Just want you to be happy and feel so good. Don’t need to worry about a thing, okay? Cause I’m your Alpha and I like you just like this. Rocking in my lap, doing what feels nice, just being a sweet n’ happy omega for me.”
Bucky chirps in a way that he rarely does, his hips juddering forward hard. “Oh! Steve I … I have to …” He squeaks and tosses forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck and whining plaintively.
Steve tuts and wraps his arms around him, still guiding him in the rocking motion. “What’s up, bub, huh? You have to go?”
Bucky nods fast against his shoulder. “Nnn! But, but …” He shakes his head back and forth, trying to fight it. “Nngh …”
“Okay, okay Honey. You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Steve wraps his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck and grabs him in a firm scruff. He slides it up into his hair and pulls, using his grip to guide him back a little. Bucky yelps and meets him with wide eyes. “Shhhh,” Steve hushes, shoving his other hand down inside the front of Bucky’s pants. Bucky’s eyes go even wider. “It’s okay, bub,” he soothes, hand cupping the bulk of the padding and rubbing. “I know you just don’t get it. And this is me showin’ you. Cause I’m gonna keep you right here, and I’m not moving my hand until you let go for me.”
Really, he’s sure he’ll have Bucky naked and straight up wetting in the middle of sex in the very near future, but for now this’ll do. They are still in the hospital, after all, and this is still a communal nesting pod they’re in. If nothing else, Steve knows that the orderlies would not appreciate the mess.
Bucky gulps in a huge shaky breath and nods frantically, tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes as he gets overwhelmed. “Okay, okay,” he pants, grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders fiercely while his squirming gets frantic. “Oh god, S-ssteve …”
Steve kisses his forehead, murmuring non stop praise and love at him. Finally, Bucky tenses up and goes stock still. “Theere it is,” Steve coaxes, jostling his hand as he feels the warmth start to spread. Bucky moans and loses control completely, going limp as a noodle against Steve’s front and panting as he loses control. “Good boy.” Steve keeps murmuring it against his skin, giving pulses on the swollen crotch of the diaper with one hand and petting up and down his back with the other. “Good boy. That’s my good boy, Bucky. So good.”
Bucky doesn’t go all embarrassed, after. He stays a little dazed, in his head, chirping and humming at Steve when he encourages him to come out of the nest. They walk together to the bathroom, and Bucky does speak on and off when prompted; little 'yeah's and 'no's' and ‘okay’s. So he’s not quite non-verbal, and he’s definitely not in a fugue or a fit of any sort. No. He’s just a soft, contented, aroused ball of very happy omega.
In the bathroom on the changing bed, Steve is hardly surprised to find a pool of slick and a chubbed up little cock underneath the diaper. “Would you look at that,” he chuckles, going about cleaning him up. Bucky starts to whimper afterwards as he’s lying there, clean but exposed and untouched. “Please,” he begs, proving that he can, in fact, speak. “Please Steve?”
“Of course, Honey.” He wasn’t planning on denying him, poor thing. Steve smooths his hands over Bucky’s inner thighs, right up to the crease of his groin. He brushes his fingers over his half hard penis, back and forth a few times, just teasing it lightly. “How do you want me to make you cum?” he asks, only anticipating that Bucky will either ask him to touch his cocklet or else use penetration. He is not prepared for the kid’s breathless request of,
“Suck me, please.”
He freezes, taken aback. Oral sex—giving or receiving—is not permitted between Alpha Supports and their patients on the ward. Steve’s not precisely sure why, when digital and device-aided penetration is done every single day, but at some point in history, some guy writing the rules drew the line at oral. Anything that could be easily twisted to gratify the Alpha support rather than the omega patient is strictly forbidden. Steve has actually never given head to an omega before—patient or otherwise.
But he’s suddenly, achingly hard at the thought of doing so. “Oh, Honey ...” he hedges. “I don't know if ...” He grimaces at the pleading look on Bucky’s face, the anxious, wanting pinch in his brow, and finds himself throwing all his reservations aside. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s been professional long enough. Bucky’s going to be his by this time tomorrow, anyways. “Okay, Baby,” he says, giving in and rubbing over the boy’s belly with one hand. “Okay. You want that? Want to feel Daddy’s mouth on your sweet prick?”
Bucky keens and nods, “Yeah, please.”
“You ask so sweet,” Steve praises, sinking down his body, trailing kisses from his neck to his chest, down to his belly and the base of the sweet little cocklet he’s got between his legs. Steve tells him how pretty it is as he kisses it, mouthing over the softness. It’s only half hard, never really getting rigid, but it's still more to play with than the average omega has. Steve pulls him into his mouth and sucks until he gets an orgasm out of him. Bucky shudders hugely, his little prick squirting a tiny bit of useless seminal fluid, but nothing more. Steve pulls off, rubbing his inner thighs soothingly as he comes down from it. “Good?” he asks.
Bucky shudders and nods, smiling dreamily. “Thank you, Alpha,” he breathes. “We can do that all the time?”
Steve chuckles. “Yeah, Honey. There’s nothing off limits anymore once I take you home with me. You can touch me and ask me to touch you any way you like. Whatever you’re curious about.” Steve is well aware that, outside of his treatment on-ward, Bucky is very sexually inexperienced. There’ll be a lot of firsts, once Steve brings him home.
Bucky's eyes have slipped closed, and Steve takes a moment to stare. He pets his belly, trailing his hand down to the boy’s wet little cock and further down to his balls. He plays with the soft skin, considering him. Bucky’s shrunk up some in the past three years, but he’s still bigger than he should be. Steve imagines what he’ll look like, after the procedure. There’ll be a bare space there, room to press and stimulate him. Steve's never had much of a preference with male omegas, finding both the little pocket of looser skin left after a castration and the tiny, coin purse sac of an intact omega to be attractive, in their own ways. But he can’t deny that he likes the aesthetics of a cut omega.
“Bucky?” he says softly. “There’s something I have to talk with you about, something we’re gonna have to do eventually. And I don’t want you to be scared, so hear me out, okay?” He waits until Bucky opens his eyes, a little wrinkle of worry forming between his eyebrows.
“What?” he asks.
Steve cups his sac and rubs it gently. “Here,” he murmurs. “You’ll need to have these removed, Sweetheart. Do you know about that?”
Bucky tenses. “What? N-no,” he looks pleadingly up at Steve. “Why?!”
“It’s something they’ve had written down in your chart for a while,” Steve admits. “I’ve avoided bringing it up until now. We had more short term parts of your treatment plan to work on, and I didn’t want to upset you. But I’m going to bond you, Sweetheart, and I gotta take care of you. This is what all your doctors have been recommending.”
Bucky keens miserably. “I don’t want to. Please. Please don’t make me.”
Steve hushes him, rubbing his belly and cupping his balls. “It’s such a simple procedure, Sweetheart. Lots of omegas are cut. Your body had a little too much time to develop. Remember how we talked about that?”
Bucky whimpers and nods uncertainly. “Y-yeah.”
“You’re bigger than most omegas down here,” Steve tells him gently. “Your body’s making hormones that you don’t need. It gets you all confused. That’s part of what makes you get so angry sometimes.”
Bucky whimpers. “Will it hurt?” he asks tearfully.
It’s such a naive question that it makes Steve’s heart ache. “No, Honey,” he soothes. “Not very much at all. You’ll just go to sleep while they do it. And then you’ll have nice pain medicine to keep you comfy while you heal. We’ll get you nested up at home. You’ll probably sleep a lot. You can watch movies and eat as much ice cream as you want,” he coaxes. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Bucky sniffles. “I don’t wanna.”
“I know, I know. It’s new and scary, but it’ll be so simple, I promise. I’ll be right there to take care of you, okay?”
Bucky sniffles for a few more minutes, but then he nods meekly, giving in. “Okay,” he whispers. “You’ll be with me the whole time?”
Steve bends down to kiss him. “The whole time,” he assures. “You’re such a good boy, Bucky. It’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”
Bucky doesn’t hesitate to nod this time, and Steve rumbles low in his chest, pleased. “Good boy,” he praises. “Once you’re healed it’ll feel nice,” he promises. “You’ll have an easier time getting pleasure from here.” He touches Bucky’s hole gently, circling the rim. “Release will be easier.”
Bucky’s still nervous, Steve can smell it on him. But he calms down enough for Steve to get him in a fresh diaper and dressed again. He can hardly believe the conversation went the way it did. If Steve had attempted to talk about this during Bucky's last stay on-ward, he's nearly positive he would've had a meltdown on his hands. But Bucky accepted it so easily.
“So proud of you, bub,” he praises. “Come on. Let’s go get you some lunch, huh?”
By four fifty, he’s said goodnight to Bucky and promised to be back the very next day, when he’ll see him discharged from his stay on-ward and bring him home. He clocks out and takes the train to a specialty omega shop up in Queens, where, along with a bunch of nesting supplies, he purchases Bucky a nice collar to go home in. It’s pricey and has all the bells and whistles, from inflation features and removable D rings, to insertable scent chambers and a GPS locator. Steve figures he must really be giving off the 'new Alpha' vibe, because the saleswoman smiles at him indulgently and says “congratulations” as she’s ringing up his purchases.
"Oh. Thanks." He blushes and tries to keep a straight face, but can't help but wind up beaming anyway.
At home he takes the tags off all of the purchases and sets them aside tidy and ready for Bucky, excited about how the kid will react when he sees his new things and gets to experience someone taking care of him properly and spoiling him for the first time in his life.
Geez, Steve thinks, by tomorrow he’s going to have an omega living with him. He feels giddy about it. Even with knowing Bucky’s personal issues surrounding his designation, Steve still isn’t worried. He cares so deeply for Bucky, loves him even, at this point. And he knows that no matter what obstacles they may face going forward, this is the best thing that he could do for the omega.
He flits about the apartment that evening, full of nervous energy but in a fantastic mood. He shoots off a few emails, one to Sam, inquiring about job possibilities at Shield or other local private practices. Even if there isn’t a position available at Sam’s firm, Steve is still very confident in his ability to find a new job. He’s got excellent qualifications, and omega healthcare is a chronically understaffed field. He’ll have to give up the role of support Alpha, though. At least in a sexual capacity. It wouldn’t be fair to put Bucky through that, coming home each day smelling of other omegas. Steve couldn’t do that to him.
He tries to fill his evening up with distractions, but it’s hard. He surfs a few job boards half-assedly, scent marks the stuff he bought for Bucky, makes a microwave dinner that he can barely taste, and watches an episode of a show he’s been following. Nothing gets his mind off Bucky for long. He’s simply too elated and impatient for the next day to arrive. So when eleven P.M. rolls around and he’s still wired as fuck, he goes rooting through the medicine cabinet, downing four Benadryl tablets in an effort to get at least a modicum of sleep in for tomorrow.
Predictably, he wakes up earlier than usual. Rather than closing his eyes again until his alarm goes off, he forces himself to don sneakers and go for his usual morning run, pounding out a few extra miles because he’s got the time and because he needs to burn off some of this nervous energy. He goes back home, showers, changes. He heads for the Sanatorium with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a skip in his step.
God, he thinks as he keys into the hospital’s ground floor, the building really is ugly: very outdated, institutional, depressing. He’s gotten so used to it over the past five years. He’s glad that Bucky won’t ever have to come through its halls again.
Stanley isn’t at the security desk when he passes by, and Steve’s kind of glad, since for the first time in a long time he’s forgotten to grab their usual morning pastries. He leans through the security window and snatches his badge from the wall, heading for the elevators.
Raynor intercepts him at the double doors leading onto the ward, her mouth set in a grim line.
Instantly, Steve is on high alert, tension pulling through his body. “What happened?” he says, already panicking that something awful has happened to Bucky in the last sixteen hours. “Is he hurt?”
“No. His parents showed up. Come on.”
Steve’s guts sink and harden with dread, yet at the same time he doesn’t really have the chance to work himself into a true panic, because they’re on the move. Raynor marches straight to the conference room, inside of which they find a somber-faced orderly at the door, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes seated at the table, and Bucky huddled down over in the far corner, having a bit of a fit. Steve instantly recognizes it as another stress fugue, though thankfully it seems to be less severe than the one he’d found him in yesterday. He’s still got all his clothes on and he isn’t humping anything, so that’s a plus.
Steve hurries over and kneels down next to him. “Buck? Oh Buck, Sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’m right here with you, Baby. Please don’t cry.”
Bucky’s huddled on the floor, tearfully rocking in place, one arm wrapped around his knees and the other hand up at his face, sucking two of his fingers. Steve wipes his cheeks and kisses his forehead, heartstricken at seeing him so upset. “Shh sh sh, Honey. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He remembers his backpack and slings it off his shoulder, unzipping it and dumping half its contents on the floor in search of the collar inside. He finds it and starts putting it on him, getting the buckle closed and the pressure points lined up with Bucky’s glands. “Can you get something for his mouth?” he tells the orderly at the door. The man nods with wide eyes and hurries out of the room. Steve finishes with the collar and fits the little air pump to its port, squeezing it until the pressure points in the lining have all inflated. Bucky’s breathing calms down considerably just from that. Steve rumbles low in his chest for him, giving him the sound of his Alpha’s approval. “Good boy,” he Voices, petting his face soothingly. “So good for me, bub.”
“Excuse me."
Steve looks back over his shoulder and meets George Barnes’ scowl with one of his own. “Be quiet,” he growls at him, making the man’s face go slack in sheer surprise. “Trust me, I’ll be right with you,” Steve grits. Turning back, he continues to murmur quiet, comforting words for Bucky to hear and latch onto; telling him how he’s right there and he’s not leaving, how he’s his Alpha and Bucky’s his omega and how they’re safe and good and everything is going to be just fine. Bucky whimpers and pushes himself closer to Steve, still crying sluggishly, but he’s non-verbal and even if he weren’t, he’s still got half his hand shoved into his mouth, his body’s reflexes in full gear as he tries to calm himself down.
Behind, Mrs. Barnes is complaining at her husband to “do something,” and Bucky registers her shrill voice and starts to rock a little harder. Steve winces as he sees the red indent of where Bucky’s started chewing on his fingers.
Luckily that’s when the orderly returns, and he hurries over to give Steve the suckling gag he’s brought. “Thanks,” Steve grunts, glad to see that the guy actually had the foresight to bring along a container of PheroGel for the thing. Steve exhales in relief and takes it from him. It'll help Bucky calm down. “Good thinking,” he mutters, maneuvering Bucky so that he can coax his hand away from his mouth and feed the rubber head of the gag past his lips instead. Bucky parts easily for it, accepting it with an anxious whine. “Shhh, there you go.” Steve velcros it in the back and checks the fit, then opens the valve and fills the chamber with the PheroGel.
Bucky makes a tiny, surprised sound when the taste reaches him, his cheeks hollowing as he returns to suckling instinctively. Steve smiles and encourages him. “That’s right. You just focus on that, okay?” He pets Bucky’s face and watches as he visibly calms down from the pressure of the collar and the feeling of something heavy and Alpha-scented in his mouth. “There you go, Sweetheart,” he soothes. “Just close your eyes and focus on how that feels. Can you do that for Alpha?” Bucky sniffles and nods tearfully, and Steve’s heart squeezes as he watches his eyelids start to droop closed. “Good boy,” he praises him once more. The gag is a slow suckle design, so Bucky should be able to keep using the pheromones to self-soothe while Steve works on dealing with the Barnes.
He’s enraged that they’re here at all. Steve fully intends to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Forcing himself to pull away from Bucky and stand, he’s stone faced by the time he turns around to face the Barnes. He walks over to stand across the conference table from them. They’re sitting side by side, but Steve doesn’t pull out a chair to join them. He locks his arms and leans with his hands braced on the back of a chair. “What are you doing here?” he says, letting his full displeasure come through in his voice.
For a second, both of the Barnes look a little bit intimidated. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last. George Barnes seems to recover some of his willpower and squares his shoulders to glower back at Steve. “We came to get him,” he snaps, sparing a disdainful glance towards the corner where Bucky is huddled. “We came to take him home and now they’re telling us we don’t have permission. ‘Permission’!”
“That’s right.”
“Well that’s bullcrap. He’s our son!”
Steve smiles nastily at him. “Well unfortunately, Mr. Barnes, You signed paperwork relinquishing custody of him.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. That was only a few days ago! We’ve changed our minds, so you just get him packed up or, er …” he glances back over at Bucky and winces in disgust when he sees his son: collared and rocking and stimming with the sucker strapped over his mouth. “Just get him ready to go. Take that crap off him. We’ve found somewhere to put him, and he’s coming with us.”
“‘Put him’?” Steve repeats, frowning.
“Yeah.” George raises his chin defiantly, looking every bit the asshole that he is. “Found out he’s actually worth somethin’, even like this.” At ‘this’, he casts another disdainful look in Bucky’s direction. “Milking center up in New Rochelle takes cases like him. Said they’ll pay six grand up front.”
Steve sees red so fast, he has to hold on tighter to the chair for a few seconds. “What?” he says, the word coming out quietly only because he’s so breathlessly fucking mad. “Are you fucking shitting me right now?”
George Barnes’ snide expression is more than enough of an answer. “At least he’ll be useful, not a leech on society.”
In his head, Steve hears Bucky’s tearful, bitter words from two days ago:
“Just a waste of hardworking people’s tax dollars!”
An unpleasant groaning sound meets his ears, before he figures out that it’s his own hands, stressing and warping the plastic backing of the chair. He pulls them away and glowers across the table at the other man. A fucking milking center, he fumes, wanting to pick the chair up and put it straight through George Barnes’ smug fucking face.
Because Steve’s been to those places, has been called in to evaluate the omegas housed in their custody. He’s seen the warehouse-sized rooms: filled with rows and rows of omegas, fat and sedated, restrained to benches and hooked up to machines, bred and fed and watered and hosed down in place, like animals.
Christina steps in, probably because she can sense that her employee is about to unleash imminent violence on their visitors. “Unfortunately, the law is clear in this matter,” she tells Mr. Barnes, as no-nonsense here as she is in any other situation. “You signed all legal rights to James over four days ago and you no longer have any say in his care. The hospital has full custody of him, and we’ve already approved a long-term guardian for him.”
“What?” George Barnes stands abruptly from his chair, sending it rolling back to thunk against the wall in his haste. “What are you talking about? You can’t do that! I’ll … I’ll get a judge. There’s no way you can just—”
“There’s every way we ‘can just’,” Steve growls, unable to restrain himself from being unprofessional at this point. Fuck it. He doesn’t work at Hydra anymore, so unlike in times past where he’s been forced to make nice with less than stellar parents, now he can say exactly what he’s thinking. “You are a piece of shit, garbage human being, who shouldn’t be allowed to raise a fucking dog let alone a child. I think that you should leave now. In fact I strongly advise it. Forget about ever seeing Bucky again—because you never will—and just be grateful that you got away with the level of abuse that you did for so many years without ever being charged in a court of law.”
George Barnes opens his mouth, ostensibly to say something pissy, but before he can, Steve tacks on:
“Oh, and in fact you should be very grateful that you did sign those papers when you did. Because if you hadn’t? You’d best believe I’d be making sure you’d lose custody of all your children before you ever got him back. Now why don’t you pick your jaw up off the floor, help your wife heft her sloppy ass out of that chair, and leave this place before you’re thrown out?”
Of all things, it’s the comment about Mrs. Barnes’s weight that fuels George Barnes into action. He gets alarmingly red in the face, and it’s to the background noise of his wife’s insulted screeches that he starts to come towards Steve (presumably with the intention of hitting him). But before he can so much as round the end of the conference table, Stanley is bursting through the door.
“Hold it! Not another move, Buster!”
At Stanley’s back, Rumlow is standing with his taser gun drawn and pointed right over Stanley’s head. It’s that sight which seems to catch Mr. Barnes’ attention, and he pulls back from where he’d been approaching Steve, hands raised and gesturing for his wife to get up, too. “Alright, alright. We’re coming. Geez.”
“Sure you were.” Stanley sports his tough guy face, proud of himself, and ushers the Barnes into the hallway. Steve’s opinion of Rumlow inches marginally higher when he sees him hurriedly holster his weapon and step back, so that Stanley doesn’t realize he’d had a little bit of backup, there.
With the Barnes led away, Steve returns all of his attention to Bucky. The tension of this confrontation seems to have had surprisingly little impact on him, and Steve is especially pleased when he sees that the orderly had at some point managed to get both a blindfold and a pair of noise cancelling headphones on Bucky as well. With the positive stimulus of the collar and gag, he’s much calmer. Steve hurriedly takes the headphones and blindfold off, followed by the gag. “Hey, hey baby.” He’s petting all over Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression and scent the state he’s in now. He’s surprised when Bucky blinks a few times and then looks up at him with clear eyes.
“Steve,” he breathes.
“I’m here. It’s okay. You don’t have to go with them. You’re safe. You got your words back?”
Bucky blinks some more, looking between Steve and the place where his parents had been sitting at the conference table. “... They can’t take me, right?”
Steve nods. “Yeah, Buck. That’s right. They can’t. They legally can’t.”
Slowly, Bucky’s expression starts to brighten. He smiles. “But you can take me,” he says hopefully. “To live with you. Because you’re my Alpha now, right? And I’m your omega?”
Steve doesn’t even think of propriety, he just leans in and kisses Bucky straight on the mouth. Bucky’s lips are so soft, and he whimpers and responds so eagerly. Steve forces himself to pull back before he can get carried away. “Yeah, bub,” he says happily, trying not to get emotional in front of Raynor. “Yeah. You’re my omega now.”
In reality, they’ve probably got close to a half day’s worth of paperwork and consent-confirming counselling sessions ahead of them. But in the way that Bucky’s asking about? Yeah. They already belong to each other.
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Heat of the Moment - AU Steve Rogers x OC
warnings: modern AU steve rogers, DBF, age gap romance,DOM Steve, rough smut, 18+
word count: 12.5k
WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1330362443-heat-of-moment-regan
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Sweat trickled down Regan's back as she climbed out of the cab and waved to the driver, quickly thanking them before they sped away from their destination. An unreasonable heat was smothering Brooklyn and Regan figured it was her luck that her first week at her father's apartment would be miserable. As if having to move back home at 25 after getting fired wasn't bad enough.
There was nothing against anyone getting some help in their time of need, but Regan couldn't deny it kept her stomach in constant knots. Her dad was one of the good ones, married to his high school sweetheart until her mom passed and she'd always been what some might call a daddy's girl. Ever since Regan was born during her parent's senior year of high school, he was wrapped around her finger. It made sense that he'd be the one to swoop in and save the day.
Hopefully, Regan thought, he wouldn't mind if I came home a few days earlier.
She took a deep breath and climbed the few steps to the building's door, a worn duffel bag in hand. It was something from a thrift shop in London, the place Regan had called home for two years until the production company she worked for decided her services were no longer needed. Her fingers fiddled with the straps as she walked. It wasn't out of anxiety, but anticipation.
Right before Regan took a leap and moved in pursuit of something more, she helped her dad move into this moderately upscale apartment complex. It had a rooftop pool, patio, and balconies on the windows, the perfect place for a guy like Regan's father.
It also had his neighbor down the hall, Steve Rogers.
She met him on the day her dad moved in. He was broad-shouldered, brooding, and tough as nails, an honourably discharged former captain in the US Army. The fact that he was built like a god and had that little accent in his voice didn't hurt either.
Steve was the same age as her dad and they found some common interests, but their bond came from both being veterans. Usually, she hated the stories from her dad's time overseas, but hearing Steve tell some of his own? She could listen to that gravelly voice all goddamn day.
The trip on the elevator was a haze, Regan's mind retreating into the place that got her into trouble at school. She was so focused on whatever tale her mind was spinning, something warm and tinted in blue, that the elevator opening didn't even register on her radar.
At first, neither did the man who stepped on it, until he finally said her name.
"Hey, Regan," Steve said into the quiet space, a small twitch of his lips under his dark beard.
His voice shot a wave of goosebumps on her skin and it made her shiver a little. He had this air of authority surrounding him.
"Steve." Regan breathed, her fingers lifting nervously to pull the strand of hair out of her vision as her eyes travelled over the man in front of her.
"I thought your dad said you weren't going to be home for another couple of days," he crossed his arms over his chest and turned his bright blue eyes in her direction, meeting her gaze.
The fluorescent lights of the elevator made his eyes a deeper blue than they normally were and it seemed to darken each feature of his face. His beard was fuller than it had been the last time she'd seen him and Regan could see the shape of his dog tags under his white t-shirt.
She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the metal doors in front of her, hoping he hadn't caught her staring, "yeah that's what I thought but you know, once I finished my last day, there wasn't really much over there for me anymore so I just... left," her lips pulled into a thin line as she shrugged.
She shifted the bag in her hand, rolling the strap around nervously in her sweaty palm. She had forgotten how tall he was and now in their blistering proximity, she was forcibly reminded.
“You’ll find a new job quickly,” Steve quipped, moving on so easily from her practically groping him with her eyes. “From all the ranting your dad does about you, you’re a talent most production companies are fighting to get their hands on.”
She did all she could not to turn the color of a tomato as the embarrassment set in. Of course, they had been talking about her when she wasn’t around to play buffer. God only knows the things her father has told him about his sweet, precious little girl.
Regan groaned audibly, unable to stop herself.
"I know it must be frustrating to move back home after being so independent and successful but I'm certain that your father will do everything in his power to get you back in the workforce. After all, you're his little princess."
Regan detected a slight change in tone when he spoke that she decided to ignore. But the tinge of mockery in his tone got under her skin.
Regan snorted and shook her head as the elevator door dinged above them, "thanks Steve but as comforting as that is, I don't know what an army vet is going to do to get me back into film," she shifted her bag on her shoulder and walked out of the elevator onto the dusty green carpet of the 7th floor.
"You know what I meant, Regan," Steve's voice dropped an octave as he followed behind her.
She let out a soft sigh and nodded once, "yeah I know, I'm sorry, it's just, been a day and I was hoping to avoid the job talk at least until I had it figured out myself," she mumbled, pausing for a second outside of her dad’s apartment.
“You can’t avoid the tough stuff forever,” Steve said flatly, “life happens, and you have to deal with it.”
“I know that better than most,” Regan said bitterly as she turned at the door to her father’s apartment to find Steve standing with his hands on his hips. “My mother. Remember?”
Steve nodded solemnly, piercing eyes boring into her as she stood defiantly.
“Anyway,” she looked away, breaking first, and fumbled with her keys. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll be sure to consider it.”
“It should be open,” Steve offered behind her, “your dad was expecting me to drop in.”
Regan nodded, curt and defeated as Steve’s hand landed on the wood just above her head. Palm flat and fingers splayed, she peered up to see flexed tendons and thick veins running beneath his tanned skin. Steve pushed, and sure enough, the door swung open with ease.
“In the kitchen, Steve!” Regan heard her dad call as the sounds of cupboards and drawers opened and closed, and her dad’s off-tune humming echoed through to the hall.
Having to move back home wasn’t ideal, but the warmth and familiarity of her dad’s apartment were welcoming nonetheless.
“Twinkle-toes!” her dad dropped the plastic containers into the sink and rushed around the island into the open hallway of his apartment. “You’re home!”
Regan let the horrifying nickname slide as she dropped her bag to the floor and sunk into the giant bear hug her father wrapped her small frame into. He wasn’t a small man, rivalling Steve in height he was built thicker around the middle. His long blond beard had turned grey and brown. But the same soft and sad chocolate brown eyes stared down at her as he pulled back to inspect.
“The London air has you looking all posh, have you been eating?” He asked, pinching her arm playfully.
“On a hearty diet of a pack of cigarettes and croissants.” She rolled her eyes.
He laughed heartily and attempted to ruffle her hair, Regan dodging to the side at the last second with a scrunched nose and a snort.
"A little early aren't you?" her father, Colin, asked, concern furrowing his brow.
"Yeah," Regan breathed as she shifted her weight where she stood. "Just felt like coming home. I'd had enough pretentious movie assholes to last me a lifetime."
A warm palm brushed the small of her back as Steve stepped by. Without a word, he grabbed the bag from beside her and carried it into the living room, setting the object on the sofa. Regan's eyes followed every flex of his broad back, tucked under a tight white t-shirt that made her brain turn to mush.
A little spark of irritation ran through her at both the gesture and the feeling it gave her in front of her father of all people.
"Come sit. You must be exhausted." her father motioned to the sofa where Steve just put her bag.
As she and her father sat down next to each other Steve opted to take the seat on the other side of the coffee table, settling on the armchair across from her. As she brought her father up to speed on her life, she felt Steve watching her attentively. Those incredible blue eyes she could get lost in bore right into her skin leaving a trail of flames in their wake. It was incredibly hard to have him so close but also so incredibly unattainable.
“Well, sweetheart, I hope you brought your appetite with you. Steve and I were just gonna fire up the grill and watch the game.” He voiced, tapping her knee as he stood from his place, “you up for some ribs and beers?”
Regan smiled softly at her dad, “That sounds great I’m just gonna wash the 5 hours of plane and screaming babies off and I'll meet you up there.”
Her dad winced in sympathy and nodded, ruffling her hair before heading back into the kitchen. Turning to Steve she smiled, which turned a little awkward and she began to flush, trying to decipher the look in his eyes.
“So I’m just gonna…you know…take a…see you later?” She babbled mentally kicking herself for sounding like a blithering idiot.
“Are you telling me or are you asking me, Princess?” He smirked.
Regan’s eyes widened in surprise, surely he couldn’t mean… She felt the flush creeping up her neck and spreading over her cheeks. With all her usual sassy responses abandoning her she turned on her heel and almost ran into her bedroom, pushing the door as she went through, not even bothering to check if it was fully closed.
Heading into her shower room she turned on the water and took off her clothes, leaving them in a pile in the corner of the room. She let out a sigh as she stepped under the spray, arching her back to let the water stream over her hair.
Steam was quickly filling up the bathroom with how hot the water was, but Regan really needed it. She stood still under the shower head, just letting the scalding hot water run down her body, warming up her skin and relaxing the tense muscle underneath it.
Truthfully, the plane ride over was greatly responsible for the tension, but she could admit, only to herself, that it wasn’t the whole reason. She could still feel the pressure and warmth of Steve’s palm over the small of her back, his fingers spread wide in an almost… possessive gesture.
She shook her head, trying to will the dangerous thoughts away. She’d always had a taste for older men, but Steve? He was her dad’s best friend, definitely off-limits.
Her traitorous body shivered at the thought.
With more force than necessary, she squeezed a dollop of shampoo into the palm of her hand. The artificial scent of strawberries filled her lungs as she massaged her scalp, sighing in relief. She had kept buying it because Steve told her he liked strawberries once, well, she chose not to think about that and quickly washed it off.
She kept the same pace while washing her body, slowly massaging the soap into her skin and letting the tension go. Steve and her dad were probably impatiently waiting for her to get out so they could all eat, but the feeling of suds being washed off her skin was too good to make quick work of it, and she still wasn’t done getting rid of her inappropriate thoughts.
Only a creaking sound got her to speed up, just barely audible over the loud sound of insistent drops crashing over her shoulders. The pipes were letting her know her time was up.
Steam plumed as she stepped out onto the mat, letting the partially frosted glass door slide closed behind her. A slight draft tickled her skin as she wrapped herself in a large fluffy towel; the bathroom door was open, letting the precious steam out. Regan sighed as she towelled her hair, scrunching it lightly to soak up most of the water. It would probably get wet in the pool later.
Coming out of the bathroom, she smiled, seeing her forgotten bag on her bed next to a neatly laid-out outfit; her dad was always so thoughtful. The pretty cornflour blue sundress was the same colour as her mother’s eyes, and the cute daisies patterned on the fabric were her favourite. It was perfect for a sunny rooftop afternoon.
Slipping the dress over her blue and white checked bikini, the fabric felt wonderful against her clean skin. Tying the dress behind her neck, she turned for the mirror. She had been home only a few hours and already she looked and felt more relaxed. Being home agreed with her, more than she would ever admit aloud. She picked up a cute white cardigan and, taking one last look in the mirror, headed up to the roof of the building.
New York's summer heat was a shocker after years in London, the sun sweltering on her skin the moment she stepped out into the open air.
“There she is!” Steve’s heart-stopping smile met her as she approached the two men.
Leaning on the brickwork of the building with his arms folded over his broad chest, Steve’s heavy gaze fell upon her. His blue eyes tracked over her figure, subtle in their journey from her legs to the halter of her bikini top — where they lingered as his jaw ticked.
Regan swallowed thickly and made a point of joining her father by the grill.
In her peripherals, she caught Steve pushing himself away from the wall and sauntering over to the cooler before a dripping beer bottle was held out in front of her with no other acknowledgement.
Regan’s hand brushed against Steve's as she hesitantly took it. The frigid drops of water melted down over her hot skin. “Thanks,” she said, barely getting the word out.
“Sure,” he winked. “That's your favourite right?”
She turned the bottle in her hand and smiled, “how’d you know?”
“Colin here tells all the stories in your absence, including the one about you sleeping in the bathtub after one particularly rowdy night,” Steve licked his bottom lip and tossed her dad a goofy smile.
“Is nothing sacred?” Regan tossed her hair over her shoulder, turning away from them both to take in the views from the rooftop. God, she had missed Brooklyn and for more than one reason, she looked over her shoulder at the broad expanse of his muscles stretching beneath his shirt as he pointed to the grill and chatted with her dad.
Taking a long, much needed gulp from the icy bottle, she prayed that it would be enough to cool her off. A slightly unsteady hand caused a drop of foamy beer to spill down her chin and neck.
"Fuck," she muttered under her breath as Colin's boisterous laugh echoed across the rooftop.
A tingle on her skin made Regan look up as she wiped the liquid with her fingers. Steve watched her from across her father's head as he told some story, gesturing wildly with a pair of barbecue tongs. It looked as if he was assessing her like she was a danger he couldn't figure out how to approach.
Emboldened by both distance and the heat, she raised an eyebrow and brought her thumb to her full lips. Gently sucking the beer from her fingertip, Steve's stare melted her from the inside.
There was another twitch of his jaw before he turned away to help her dad once more. That was all she got and Regan couldn't deny that it stung but shook the feeling off.
She walked to the edge of the rooftop, pressing her stomach against the railing, her eyes travelling over the beautiful New York skyline.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her back and it was clear from the way her body reacted to the touch who was standing behind her. His heat radiated over her as his hand lingered a second longer.
"You missed this, huh?" She heard him say and as she looked up, she found him looking at her.
"Yeah. London is beautiful but nothing beats this view."
"I can think of something that beats this view," His voice rasped, laced with something wicked and before she could respond, he was gone.
Regan looked over her shoulder, watching Steve’s retreating form, all firm muscles beneath his tight shirt, jeans hugging his pert ass.
She whipped back around, breathing in deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. Taking another sip of beer, she pushed off the railing and went to a lounge chair near her dad and Steve, just within earshot.
Regan lay in the sun, warming quickly, getting sticky hot in her dress. She sat up, glancing over at the two men and getting caught in Steve’s gaze. Her dad was busy with the ribs but Steve’s blue eyes bore into her.
With a sly smile, Regan slowly stood and peeled her dress up and off her body, revealing her bikini underneath.
She could feel his eyes on her as she hid a sly smile from his view. Regan sat back down in the lounge chair and took another long sip of her beer before dragging the cold bottle along her collarbone, trying to cool herself off. As she sat the bottle on a small table beside her, Regan could feel his eyes follow her every movement.
Meanwhile, Steve gulped and reached for his own beer as he adjusted himself as discreetly as he could while he continued to listen to Collin ramble on about his story.
Even though she couldn’t hear his words the lilting tones of her Dad’s narrative amidst the distant noises of Brooklyn eventually lulled Regan into a comforting bubble of sleepiness. The warmth of the late afternoon sun only exacerbated the tiredness she felt from her long journey and she let her lids slide almost closed, dozing lazily on the chair.
A whisper of breath against her neck made her shiver as a low voice sounded quietly in her ear.
“Careful you don’t burn that pretty skin of yours, Princess.”
Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed thickly, trying to pass off the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the closeness as she shifted and pushed her chest out slightly, "I don't think that's a concern for you to have, Rogers," she quipped back quietly and opened one of her eyes to meet his.
Steve's tongue swiped across his bottom lip as his left eyebrow ticked upwards at her comment, making a blush rise up her neck, "well that's something we disagree about..." his eyes flickered back to Colin who was still facing away from them, watching the grill, "all that time in London, and now you think you can get away with everything," he smirked.
The way he was looking at her made every nerve in her body tingle, the fear of her father turning around and seeing how close they were in the back of her mind, but the flirty almost demanding banter from Steve was enough for her to push it to the side.
"I guess we'll have to see how much I can get away with," she returned the smirk, and waved her empty beer bottle at him, plastering on a sweet smile and blinking up at him, "since you're up anyway, would you mind?" she teased.
Steve smirked at her and leaned over, taking one more glance at her father who was completely oblivious to what was going on. Gingerly, he plucked the beer bottle from her fingers, his skin grazing against hers. She could see the veins in his forearm and it took all of her self-control not to trace them with her eyes. Sparks crackled along her skin and cascaded all the way down her spine. She bit her bottom lip and heat rushed to her cheeks, blossoming across her skin as Steve let out a soft chuckle.
“Must be the sun making you blush like that, hmm?”
Regan swallowed hard.
“Are you gonna get me my beer or stand there staring at me?”
She meant to sound more confident, but the way he was looking at her made it difficult to talk or even think. Her brain felt fuzzy, and it wasn’t from the beer. Steve flashed another smile, wider this time, his ocean blue eyes shining in the sunlight.
“I can do both, can't I?”
With that, he winked at her and headed for the cooler, her empty bottle dangling from his fingertips. Regan sat, sweat prickling her skin, with her mouth agape as she tried to process what was going on.
This couldn’t be happening. Was the too-sudden heat confusing her?
Steve had never been this bold before. There had been fleeting heated looks and barely there touches lingering a bit too long to be accidental, but he’d never quipped back to her flirty remarks.
The doubt that had plagued her since she met him was quickly fading into hopefulness. If she wasn’t imagining things, if Steve was actually flirting back… it had to mean he felt it too, the magnetic pull between them.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the feeling of something cold and wet grazing her wrist. She hissed, instinctively trying to pull her arm back, but Steve was quick to hold it still, sliding the edge of the cold beer bottle along her pulse point and right into her palm. Then, as if she was a child, he put his hand on hers and closed her fingers around it in a tight fist.
“Careful, there,” he murmured, his hot breath on her ear, “Why so jumpy, princess?”
“Maybe if you didn’t sneak up on me,” she replied, trying to keep her tone sharp. But the close proximity and firm hold on her hand stole her voice.
Steve stood to his full height, looking over her, a handsome shadow haloed by the sun.
“You’re a big city girl, Regan. Being aware of your surroundings is the number one rule, isn’t it?” He flashed her a lazy grin, the greys in his bread glistening in the light as he turned to survey the terrace before peering back down at her. “You never know what you might miss.”
Regan’s whole body flushed hot and she was about to retaliate when Colin called a cheery ‘grubs up’, and Steve took two steps backward, a subtle wink and smirk on his face as he rubbed his hands together hungrily.
"Smells good, Dad," Regan said as she got up, following behind Steve to the patio table. "You always cook like this for Steve? Is there anything I need to know?"
Colin snorted, setting the heavy plate of barbecued meat on the table as he sat down. Slipping her dress back over her tousled hair, Regan glanced over at Steve and this time, she was sure he actually smirked at her teasing.
"Sorry honey, Steve isn't exactly my type."
Regan chuckled, choosing the seat opposite her father.
"Just checking," she smiled. "I can't have you spoiling just anyone in my absence."
As she reached to grip the wrought iron backing, Steve beat her to it, pulling the seat out wordlessly. Her eyes flitted up to his as she sat and fixed her dress, the flowing fabric falling just above her knees. There was a darkening in his eyes and Regan realized the position they were in again. If she leaned forward, her forehead would be at his stomach and her hands would-
"How about you, twinkle toes?" Colin asked as he passed a set of plates to Regan. "Was there anyone you were cooking for in London? Must be a shame that you had to leave so soon."
Steve casually pulled out the chair beside her and every muscle in her body tensed when he took his seat.
“Really wasn’t there for that Dad, and no one really caught my eye there,” Regan muttered, trying to end the conversation before it started. Colin opened his mouth to speak again but Regan beat him to it. “Looks like you forgot the barbecue sauce, Dad. I’ll go grab it,” she said, relief coloring her tone as she pushed back from the table.
Regan made her way across the roof and down to the apartment, taking a moment to breathe as she rested against the kitchen counter.
“You okay there, Regan? Need any help?” came a deep voice behind her, sending a shiver down her spine.
Regan gulped, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "N-no, I'm okay." She opened one of the cabinets but didn't find the sauce. Her dad must have moved things around again in her absence. He was always re-organizing things. Shutting the cabinet door, she opened another one, only to sigh. Where in the hell did he put the damn sauce this time?
Frustrated, she let out a huff before hearing a soft deep chuckle behind her.
"You're dad re-organized the kitchen in his usual manic state in prep for your return," he said as she finally turned to him. A smirk was plastered on his lips and his hair was dangling around his face while he leaned over the kitchen island propped up on his elbows, "told him the last thing you cared about was where the syrup lived."
Regan couldn't help but breathe out a laugh despite the tingling sensation crawling over her body as his eyes darkened at the sound she made. Steve stood up straight, the white in his shirt a deeper shade from the sweat forcing it to cling to the muscles in his chest. She watched his fingers drag along the edge of the island as he circled around it toward her. The fact that he couldn't hear her heart hammering against her rib cage was shocking to her considering all she could hear was the thundering of it in her ears with the closer he got.
As he moved to stand in front of her his tongue flicked over his bottom lip, "you've gotta be more observant, twinkle toes." Steve rasped, her father's nickname rolling off his tongue like a sin.
His hand reached up and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her with the way he took a step forward with the action, but he reached behind her pulling open a cabinet and showed her the bottle of barbecue sauce. Regan became acutely aware of the shrinking space between them as he towered over her and the swarm of butterflies in her chest began to swirl.
The smell of his deep ember and vanilla spiced cologne swirled in her nose and made her head feel dizzy. Regan couldn't stop her eyes from flickering towards his plump lips as he smirked at her and placed the sauce bottle on the counter beside them. He had to know what he was doing to her, despite trying to keep her composure, she was convinced her feelings were right there in the open.
His fingers brushed the side of her neck and pushed her blonde waves back off her bare shoulder, "I like your hair long like this," he finally spoke through the silence, "does your father know about the little tattoo on your rib cage?" his hand continued softly down over her dress, lightly brushing where the small lavender tattoo sat.
“Yeah, but he- he doesn’t really care,” Regan’s voice shook despite her trying to sound unaffected, “Do you?”
It was a bold question, and she wished to take it back as soon as it came out. She watched Steve’s face, holding her breath, waiting for him to react. What would he say? Had she read this wrong? Or, worse than that, had she read this right?
Steve didn’t react for a long moment, and she feared that this was it, that he would push her away, maybe even tell her dad, humiliate her.
Then, he hummed, low in his throat. “You really don’t keep any secrets from him, do you?”
He looked up at her, head tilted down and long eyelashes fluttering over his defined cheekbones, but it was the look in his eyes that took her breath away.
In the dim light of the kitchen, she could barely see the blue of his irises anymore. His pupils were impossibly wide, giving his eyes a dark, hungry look that had her core clenching around nothing.
He wanted her. He wanted her.
A spark of courage lit up in her chest.
“I could,” she whispered, wetting her lips.
“Yeah?” He breathed. “You think so?”
It was almost a challenge as he stepped toward her, closing the gap between the two of them. Every footstep, every breath felt so heavy between them as the tension mounted. Regan felt like she might burst.
Her heart was thumping in her throat while Steve stared her down, his eyes warm yet piercing. He was playing a dangerous game. They both were.
She grabbed the bottle and placed it between them as a barrier. Steve’s large hand wrapped around it and her fingers, his eyes locking with hers. Suddenly, she found it hard to take a full breath the second he started to lean forward. Heat bloomed in her belly and the soft fabric of her dress was suddenly the most constricting and irritating thing in the world. She felt his other hand wrap around her waist and pressed her tighter against the counter like he was testing her limits along with his own.
“Why don’t I take this up to your dad and you cool off in here?” He suggested, moving his hand to brush his knuckles against her bare arm. “You feel a little warm.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice crushed by the weight of the tension between them.
He grinned.
“Keep telling yourself that, princess.”
Steve dipped his head, beard grazing her cheek on his way to her ear and sending a tingle down her spine. The hand on her arm travelled further south and Regan’s breath hitched as she felt the hem of her dress lift from her skin. Steve thumbed at the fabric, rubbing it between his fingertips.
“Pretty,” he purred, “a good choice, don’t you think?”
As he drew back, Regan peered up at him confused as she took in his raised eyebrow and the sparkle in the blue of his irises — or what was left of them. His pupils were blown wide as he tilted his, studying her intensely.
And then he was gone, the warmth from his body and the intoxicating scent left lingering in the air as he walked away.
The pieces of the puzzle slid together slowly as she stared down at the dress she was wearing. She had just assumed her father had laid it out for her, stupid and naive she swore under her breath. She huffed, pushing off the counter and out into the hallway. Regan closed the apartment door behind her and jogged after him as quickly as her little legs would take her, sliding between him and the entrance to the roof before he could open it.
She pressed her back against it, looking up at him. Arm tense and pressed into her side as he reached for the bar her back rested against. She watched a single bead of sweat roll down over his skin, trickling down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
"Did you enjoy the show?" She asked, biting her tongue as he leaned close enough to brush against her nose.
A soft tsk fell from his lips, "do you like being watched?" he asked, countering her question with his own. "Be honest," he whispered.
His voice carried the slight trace of an accent as he spoke, his eyes now so dark with wanton that she wondered how much self-control this man had. Hmmm, I could put that to the test, she thought.
"Wouldn’t you like to know," Her hand travelled to the belt of his pants, tugging slightly.
She watched him carefully as his eyes flared up and she could feel him struggle with his control.
"You're playing with fire, Regan."
“I like the heat,” Regan quipped, slipping her fingertips along the sliver of skin between his shirt and jeans. She could feel his abdomen tremble and she grinned, quickly withdrawing them and pressing backwards, pushing the door open and semi-gracefully twisting to the open rooftop.
“Hey Dad, sorry that took so long, someone forgot to tell me they reorganized again,” Regan teased Colin as she made her way back to the table.
“You comin’ Steve?” Colin called out and Regan glanced back, seeing Steve still standing at the door, hand deep in his pocket.
She covered up a snort as he started, walking over slightly awkwardly before sitting at the table next to her again, a little closer than before. Regan glanced at Steve as he scooted his chair and adjusted how he sat before he began filling his plate with food.
"So..." she began. "What have you two been up to while I was gone? Besides embarrassing me by sharing stories about me." She only half listened to her father's answer as she suddenly felt Steve's heavy hand on her knee beneath the table.
She gave him the side eye. What the hell are you doing? Feeling him gently grip her knee while he openly acted as if nothing was happening only served to make the butterflies in her chest turn into bees.
His hand felt calloused and rough against her heated skin. She felt it slide further, pushing the hem of her dress with it just far enough to torture her with the question of how far he was willing to go with her father two feet away.
"Regan? Honey, are you okay?" Her father's voice filtered through the flash flood of thoughts currently drowning her mind.
"What? Oh--yea--yeah," She stammered. Steve's hand un-wavered from its position. Standing his ground and toeing the metaphorical line in the sand. She felt his forefinger begin to draw small tiny circles into the soft flesh of her inner thigh, setting fire to her scorched skin.
"Where's your head at twinkle toes?" Colin asked, taking a bite of ribs.
Regan shook her head, picking up her beer hoping to cool herself down, "Nowhere but here dad." She flashed him a somewhat convincing smile moving her hand under the table and curling her fingers around Steve's.
Her intention was to move his hand away, to silently scold him for being so bold in front of her father, but she couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t deny herself the delicious feeling of his fingertips pressing into the flesh of her thigh, blood rushing back to her skin every time he shifted his grip higher.
Her dad emptied his beer, reaching for the cooler to retrieve another and flashing them both a tipsy smile as he held one more out towards them in offering.
“Last one,” he shrugged, gaze flitting between them.
Only then did Steve’s hand leave Regan, long enough to flip the cap from the bottle and tilt it towards her.
“You don’t mind sharing, do you, sweetheart?”
"I don't know where that mouth has been," she scoffed, pulling it from his grip.
"Steve's a gentleman sweetie," Colin laughed at their playful banter, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sure he won't mind."
"You don't mind do you?" She tilted it toward her pouty lips.
"You can pay me back some other time," Steve laughed loudly, but his eyes never left her lips and she could feel his knuckle drift back to the hem of her skirt, lifting it higher than before. "You'll be home all summer." He added.
"It's gonna be so nice having my girl home!" Colin announced loudly, nearly spilling from his chair.
"Dad," Regan lurched from her chair, worried about him. "I think the beer and the heat are getting to you!"
"Christ, you might be right," her dad laughed, shaking his head. "Game hasn't even started and I'm already out of it."
"How many did you have before I got here?"
Colin looked somewhat sheepish as he stood, swaying on his feet. There was a pink tint to his cheeks that she hadn't noticed before. Sending Steve a confused look, she watched Steve hold up four fingers just out of Colin's view and suppressed a laugh.
"Okay, okay," Regan sighed, pushing up from the table. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."
"Alright, let's go. Steve, see ya." Colin waved his friend goodbye and they slowly made their way downstairs, her father hiccupping every second step.
She watched him get into his en suite bathroom after she picked up his pyjamas from the console across from the bed.
"I'm fine, little one. I can take it from here. Don’t worry about me, your tipsy dad can handle a nap by himself. Go relax,” he said as he pulled the comforter over his body. He had no idea what that sentence made her feel and she prayed to high heavens that he didn't notice the way the blush crept into her cheeks.
"Sleep well, pops. Thank you for taking me in." She whispered as her father closed his eyes.
"Anything for you, twinkle-toes. I'm so glad I have you back here. I love you." And with that, he dozed off into sleep.
A small shiver ran through her body and the realization that she’d forgotten her cardigan on the roof washed over her. Regan fought with herself for a moment, telling herself that she could grab it in the morning, but the other side of her wanted to finish what she’d started with Steve.
Or at least what she thought had been started.
Her body shook with anticipation at the delicious tension spreading through her body as she walked back out onto the rooftop and saw Steve sitting in one of the chairs, his legs spread apart, holding an ornate glass of dark liquid between his strong fingers.
"Regan..." She heard him rasp as her feet transported her closer to him as if they have a mind of their own.
Regan stopped a few inches from his right knee, staring down at it, until Steve shifted. He sat forwards in his chair, jeans pulling tight against strong, thick thighs, and he balanced his glass against his left thigh, right one open and oh so enticing.
“Wanna sit honey? Plenty of room,” Steve rumbled, lifting his glass and taking a sip of what had to be whiskey or maybe bourbon. Regan suddenly felt parched, dying for a taste.
She glanced around, looking for her chair but it was pushed off to the side. She finally met Steve’s playful stare, the fingers of his right hand drawing her gaze away, back to his thighs.
Before she could second guess herself, Regan took that last step forward and straddled Steve’s thigh, biting back a whimper at the feel of the strong muscles between her own soft thighs.
Steve leaned back on his chair, his jeans rubbing against Regan's underwear as he adjusted his legs. Goosebumps formed along her skin as warmth pooled between her legs while she settled herself on his thigh.
He tilted his head upwards, meeting her gaze with a playful smirk. He trailed his index finger along her thigh, circling a freckle that lay just below the bunched up hem of her dress.
"Are you comfortable, Regan?" he purred.
"Umm..." She took a steadying breath, knowing that he could see she was flushed from her ears to her chest. Feeling Steve move his leg again made her gasp and reach to steady herself by holding onto one of his shoulders. Shit
"What is it, princess? Something bothering you? Or is something feeling a little too good to ignore?"
Regan pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and turned her gaze towards the rooftop door. The slight fear of someone catching them, not just someone, but her dad, crept up into her mind. Even if he was drunk out of his mind and probably long passed out, he could stumble back up to the roof for something. It was too risky being so out in the open.
As if he could tell where her mind went, Steve placed his fingertips gently on the side of her cheek and turned her gaze back to meet his, the blue of his eyes flickering in the low light from the city that surrounded them.
"Eyes on me, beautiful," he whispered, moving his hand down to the side of her neck and tracing his thumb over her throat, "we're safe up here. It's just the two of us," he reassured, with his smirk returning, "now, answer my question, is something bothering you or are you done ignoring this?"
He continued moving his leg underneath her, pulling small whines from her lips as she kept her eyes on him, trying to think of a way to answer him coherently.
“I don’t think I could ignore this if I tried.”
Steve’s breath rushed out of his chest at her confession. There was no time like the present to be honest, and there was no way in hell she was going to walk away from this as terrified as she was to get caught. Steve’s cheeks were dusted pink and he licked his lips. He leaned forward, dragging his lips along her jawline until they reached her ear. She shivered at the sensation of his beard brushing against her skin and bit back a whimper.
“That makes two of us,” he rumbled. “Do you know how hard it’s been to stay away from you?”
Regan smiled and slid her hands beneath his t-shirt, fingernails just barely grazing his abs. Her hips instinctively rocked back and forth and she could feel herself getting wetter from the tension alone.
“Why don’t you show me?” She whispered.
He nibbled on her earlobe and she gasped.
“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”
Suddenly, he pulled back and his hand slipped around the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. The second their lips crashed, Regan groaned, butterflies swarming her stomach as Steve’s other hand gripped her hip and began to rock her back and forth along his thigh as his tongue slipped into her mouth.
He took his time, feeling her out, whisky and barbecue and something uniquely him flooding her senses.
Steve’s tongue was heavy against hers, teeth catching harshly on her bottom lip before he soothed the sensitive skin with small kisses, almost too tender compared to the way he guided her over him. Steve grunted, rough and from deep in his chest as she writhed against him.
With each rock of her hips, Regan felt his cock hardening beneath the denim, eliciting a gasp from her lips as he shifted beneath her. As glorious as the feeling of his rough jeans was, she was desperate for fewer layers and more skin.
Steve slipped a hand into the front of her bathing suit bottoms, his hot skin slipping between her folds with ease. "So ready," he groaned against her, using his hand to rock her faster, "feral for me. How long has it been since you've been touched, baby girl?" He asked.
When she tried to answer nothing but a heavily broken whine dripped from her lips, her mouth propped open by his as he worked against her faster. "Such pretty noises the desperate whore makes, don't stop." He demanded, "ride my thigh until you're moaning my name and then I'll flip you over and give you something to really scream about."
She nearly collapsed against him but he held her in place as he pushed his thigh up against her forcibly over and over, his fingers guiding her pussy back and forth until she was an embarrassing, withering mess.
His other hand wrapped in her hair and pulled her mouth back to his, tongue and teeth crashing together as her legs started to shake. Steve's heated lips moved down her jaw, leaving wet kisses that made Regan's noises grow higher in pitch and more breathless as her head fell back.
"Fuck me," Regan whined, embarrassed by how quickly she folded, but she felt like she was going to combust. "Please, I- I need more."
She felt his lips turn up in a grin and the throbbing in her cunt grew stronger.
"We'll get there, darlin'," Steve murmured against her damp skin. "First I'm gonna have you come like this. Then you'll get my mouth..."
Regan gasped as his thumb started to circle her clit and it nearly got her there, but his touch was too light, too soft for how he was speaking to her. He was teasing her and based on the twitching in his jeans, he really fucking liked it.
"And then," Steve growled, pressing up harder against her, the friction burning her thighs raw. "if you're a good girl, I'll fuck you like one."
"But what if I'm not a good girl?" Regan asked in a playful innocence she knew damn well would rile him up.
"Oh, Regan," he chuckled mischievously as he applied the slightest bit more pressure to her clit, her mind reeling and begging for release. "Then I'll fuck you like a good little slut," he rasped so close to her ear, his words vibrated through her body.
Little by little he increased the pressure and speed until he was just right, a scream left her throat.
"Fuck, the noises you make. Fucking beautiful."
Regan panted, body slumping into Steve’s firm chest, feeling it move under her as he chuckled.
“Don’t tell me you’re worn out already?” he teased, knuckles brushing under her chin and lifting her head until her blurry gaze met his sharp one. “Can’t very well make good on my words if you’re already fading.”
Regan shook herself, blinking rapidly before sitting up straight, fisting Steve’s long hair in one hand, crushing their lips together again.
“I can handle anything you’ve got for me Captain,” she murmured against his lips and he bit down sharply on her bottom one, a yelp escaping her as he pulled it away from her, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop.
“On the patio table now, Regan,” he growled, hands going to her hips and lifting her up onto her feet.
Regan bit her lip, her heart hammering against her ribcage in anticipation. Steve's lips found her purchase on her neck leaving a trail of nips and kisses along the way as he walked her towards the table, his fingers digging into her hips.
He pushed her against it, the feel of cold metal against her thin dress doing nothing to quench the heat surrounding her. Dragging his wet warm lips back up to her lips, he slipped his hands down to her thighs picking her up and sitting her on the table.
"Eager there, Rogers?" Regan laughed against his lips. Her teasing was quickly cut by a gasp when she felt his long, rough fingers wrap around her neck.
"That's Captain to you," he growled against her lips.
She giggled before gasping as he bit her bottom lip hard enough to cause a bit of pain. Regan pulled away from him with narrowed eyes. "What was that for?"
Steve gave her a hard stare before his face softened slightly. "Sorry," he murmured. He gently rested his hand on the back of her neck before placing a gentle kiss on her now painful bottom lip. "No more lip," he murmured. His demeanor changed again as he pulled her to the edge of the table and ran his hands up her dress to rest on her thighs. "Now... will you let your Captain have a taste? Because dessert sounds rather nice."
She nodded and Steve grinned.
“Good,” he whispered, pushing her thighs apart while dropping to his knees. The only thing she could see in the dying sunlight were those eyes digging into her fucking soul. Flames licked her belly, shooting through every muscle in her body as Steve took his fucking time sliding his calloused hands up and down her thighs.
“Now, spread your legs for me. I want ‘em nice and wide, sugar. And you stay like that, is that clear?”
“Yes, Captain,” she purred.
A growl sprung from his throat and she could see that he was struggling to keep control, kissing his way up and down each thigh. Trying to make the most of every moment. Regan’s breath caught in her chest as he worked his way higher and higher to her dripping cunt. He lifted his head and slowly began to slide two fingers inside of her.
“You keep calling me that and the whole goddamn city’s gonna hear you begging me to fuck you.”
Regan’s retort was cut off by the sensation of Steve’s tongue slowly dragging along her clit as he pushed his fingers in deeper. Her head fell back and she bit down on her knuckles, letting out a muffled groan.
He worked at her relentlessly, the patio table beneath her practically rocking as she lifted her hips from the table to press herself against his face. She wanted to ride herself free of the second orgasm against his nose while his tongue flicked at her core and his fingers curled inside of her reaching all the tender sweet spots.
"Wait for it," he growled, pushing her back down against the table. His hand slid from her hips and bit into the underside of her ass roughly, causing her to whimper from the pain. She hadn't expected to enjoy it so much but each rough touch sent a thousand tiny shockwaves rolling through her only making her crave more.
He was daring her to misbehave, she wanted to feel the crack of his hand against her ass, feel the sting of his fingers around her nipples and the sharp bite of his teeth on her thighs. She wanted more than ever before. She wiggled down against him, his beard rubbing against her inner thighs as his tongue pressed against her already stuffed pussy.
"I want more," she begged and without hesitation, he obliged but not without consequence. He rolled her hips to the side, so her leg was hooked over his shoulder pressed tightly against his cheek and rubbed the soft skin of her ass before laying into her.
"I told you to wait," he warned.
With a whimper, Regan wriggled in his grasp, chasing the feeling of his lips against her body again. This time his hand gripped her ass even harder, surely leaving purple marks on the creamy colored skin. In a blink, Steve rose up, gripping her chin tightly. Her lips parted as his calloused palm held her in place and Steve smirked at the dazed look in her eye.
"Be. Good. Regan," he murmured before capturing her lips again, leaving a salty taste on her tongue.
She nodded breathlessly, licking the dampness from her lips as he got back onto his knees, blue eyes blown dark in the lavender twilight.
"So fucked out, already, my girl can't even talk," Steve murmured against her thigh before his lips wrapped around her clit and pulled harshly before releasing it as she cried out. "You might not make it through me fucking you."
"I can, please," Regan begged him. Her voice came out a strangled whimper.
"So eager,” he growled, “I'm gonna fuck you so hard I might have to replace the patio table," his hand darted out and wrapped around her chin so she was captivated by his eyes.
"I want you to be good and use your words, sugar."
Regan bit back a whine and wrapped her hand around Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand from her face, and guiding it back to her dripping cunt.
“C’mon Captain,” she grinned, determined to take back some power despite her mouth falling open in a gasp as his fingers entered her again. “You want me to be good? Make me.”
Steve’s fingers immediately crooked against her spot, his thumb pressing down on her clit, rubbing back and forth until her thighs were shaking and her nails were digging into his skin.
“Fuck!” Regan shouted, waves of orgasm crashing over her. Before she could even come down, Steve was moving, slipping his fingers from her and flipping her over onto her stomach. He trailed them over her ass, slapping it lightly, then harder when she moaned.
“That’s my good little slut,” he whispered in her ear, bent over her back.
Steve's words flowed over her, making her shiver. If it were anyone else, she was sure she would whip around and slap them. But being Steve... something was different. Regen whimpered as she felt Steve pull apart her bikini bottoms, letting them fall to the concrete at their feet. "Steve... please."
She looked over her shoulder, watching as he stared down at her before she noticed his arm moving. Her eyes drifted down only to widen at the size of Steve's weeping cock. Oh my god.
Regan couldn't stop the whimper as it left her throat, and she felt her cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. Every thought in her mind melted away, all the fear she'd felt about getting caught was gone. She just wanted him. She needed him. And by the cocky smirk that was painted on his lips, he knew it too.
Steve stepped forward and positioned himself, his hard cock pressed into her folds, teasing her more with each slight movement.
"That's it Regan, beg me," he rasped, gripping the skin of her hip with one hand and moving the other slowly up her spine to tangle in her blonde waves, pulling softly.
She whined again, biting the inside of her cheek, "Please Steve... please," she pushed her hips back into him, pulling a growl from deep in his chest.
He brought his hand back and slapped it once more on her ass, "try again, sweetheart,"
"Please fuck me, Steve, please," she breathed, relishing in the stinging pain of her ass as he rubbed the sore spot, "I need you inside of me, please fuck me"
He teased her entrance with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t push them inside of her, but she could feel him working her clit, teasing it ever so slowly as he leaned over.
“You can do better than that,” he urged. “You want me to fuck you like a little whore? Then you beg me like one.”
“Fuck you!” She cried out. “You’re such an asshole.”
This wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what he was going to get. She was so desperate, that every muscle in her body was shaking. Steve smacked her ass one more time and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, swallowing a grunt as her clit throbbed.
“Do you need to be shown how to behave?” He growled. Very slowly, he removed his fingers and dragged the tip of his cock through her folds. “Because I can do that for you, angel.”
Regan’s eyes rolled back and she let out a sound that she didn’t even know she could make— broken and jagged. Steve placed his hand at the base of her throat and his lips curled into a wicked grin. Regan found her composure, drawing in a breath as he began to rub the tip of his cock against her swollen clit.
“Fuck me, Steve. I’ve been such a good girl for you, haven’t I?”
He chuckled, capturing her lips in a rough and messy kiss before pulling back.
“You’ve been anything but that.”
"I'll be a good little whore, I promise," she cried out, every inch of her aching for him. She could feel him running his rock hard length from her ass to her clit, over and over without remorse. Only a soft chuckle fell from his lips as she begged him for all of it. "Please Captain, fill me to the brim, I can't take it anymore. I'm begging you, I'll do anything."
"You say that like I doubted you," he whispered, the hand around her throat tightened gently against her skin and his hand ran down the sweat licked center of her back. He kicked her feet apart, spreading her wide and exposing her to him completely. She felt raw and on display as he rocked himself into her without warning. She wasn't prepared for his size, stinging pleasure rolling through her as he stretched every inch of her sore cunt, pushing her to her limits. The pain vibrated down through her toes as she pushed up onto them and fell into the hold around her throat.
"I can't-" she pleaded, feeling the hand that rolled around her ass, he was playing at it. Waiting for her pleas but she could feel him wanting more as he dragged himself from her clenching, dripping cunt slower than her body could process the size. "Steve," she panted, unable to finish her sentence as his balls slapped against her throbbing clit and he filled her again.
"You can't what?" He growled, his thumb brushing against her entrance. When she didn't answer him he slapped his hand across her ass, the sound ringing through the air alongside her strangled gasp. "Answer me."
Regan felt tears well up in her eyes, frustratingly turned on to the point that she couldn't even begin. His fingers tightened around her throat as another slap echoed across the rooftop, sending spots across her vision.
"You aren't a very good listener, are you? That's okay, I'll teach you."
"Please, please, please," she sputtered. "I can't take...fuck, Steve!"
This was what she needed, maybe a part of the reason she came back. Someone to break her and put all those pieces back together. A tear fell down her face and Steve's thumb turned her cheek towards him, his wicked grin appearing in the corner of her vision over her shoulder.
"Cry for me a little more and I might go easy on you."
Regan’s eyes rolled back into her skull as a shudder travelled through her body. She heard Steve curse and suddenly he was pressing against her entrance again.
“You have no fucking idea how you look do you?” Steve started pushing in, slowly, Regan moaning loudly as she was stretched again. “No idea how you look with that fucking body moving, caught up in pleasure, thinking of nothing but me. I’ll fuck you, pretty girl, I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to let you come until you’re crying harder than this little display.”
Regan couldn’t catch her breath, between the tears and the way Steve had started fucking into her, punching the air out of her chest until she was nearly screaming.
A big hand came up to cover her open mouth, covering half her face with its width. “Shh, Regan, the whole neighborhood didn’t hear you yet,” Steve whispered into her ear, biting down on the lobe before sucking on it, hips pounding her into the suddenly creaking table.
She whimpered into his hand, her whole body shaking under his. She was desperate to feel more of him. Even inside of her he still wasn't close enough, there was too much fabric between them. Regan wanted to feel his taut chest against her back, feel the way his muscles flexed as he relentlessly drove into her.
Steve dragged his hand back from her mouth slowly, and as if they shared the same need his fingers worked the knot at the back of her neck the thin strands of her dress falling onto the table. His movements didn't falter as he pulled down roughly on the fabric causing the table to shake along with her.
"The... the table," she moaned, trying to do her best to help Steve remove her dress from her body. The table creaked loudly beneath them. Loud enough for her to wonder if they were both going to topple to the ground. The thought was fleeting though as Steve increased his pace, driving himself into her body. "Steve..."
"Steve!" His name came out as a louder sob than she'd meant it to, but it caught his attention just in time.
The table once more groaned loudly as the legs finally gave way, crashing the old metal table to the ground. Steve's arm linked around Regan's waist and caught her before either of them fell, stepping forward, his cock slipped out of her and he spun her into his chest.
The world felt like it was spinning for a moment as her fingers curled into the metal dog tags that hung around his neck. He helped her stand and catch her balance as his now dark blue eyes flitted over her features, concern sparking over his face.
"Are you okay?" he rasped, cupping her cheek in his hand and gripping her waist with the other.
Regan nodded and breathed deeply, keeping her gaze locked on him, "I'm okay," she repeated, the coolness of the dog tags bringing a new feeling into her otherwise warm body.
"Good," he growled, scooping his arms under her legs and making his way over to the chair she'd found him in earlier, "cause I'm not finished with you yet"
Her laughter echoed through the air and Steve sat down on it, letting Regan shift her body so that she could straddle him. She looked back at the mess that they’d left behind and giggled.
“How are you gonna explain that?”
“Communal rooftop, drunk teenagers,” he replied, cradling her face with both hands. The pad of his thumb slid along her bottom lip as he searched her eyes. His expression was tender and vulnerable, and it made her heart skip a few beats. This guy could turn on a dime. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded and Steve kissed her, so sweetly that she wanted to cry. Her arms snaked around the back of his neck, playing with his hair and running her fingers through it. She’d always thought about it, it looked so soft. Steve groaned as the kiss deepened and Regan decided to take the reins, easing herself back down onto his cock. Her eyes squeezed shut as he filled her to the brim. Regan felt tears sticking to her lashes as her cheeks flamed.
The whimper that left Steve's lips was addicting, and she began to rock her hips, taking control. There was something about him that made her feel insanely confident. She pulled back, bouncing on top of him as his head fell back.
“Fuck, Regan.”
“Atta boy,” she whispered. “How long have you been thinking about fucking me?”
He laughed, his chest heaving as she fucked him and he tried to swallow his groans. Regan grabbed his dog tags and pulled on them, forcing him to meet her eye while she took him as deep as she could. His eyes widened as Regan leaned in and flicked his bottom lip with her tongue.
“I asked you a question, Captain. I expect an answer.”
His hands ran down her back, his fingers tickling the bare skin down to the swell of her ass. He cupped her more gently than she would have liked but he helped lift her up and down his shaft, pushing the speed at which they moved together. His breath trembled from his lips as he opened his mouth to speak as Regan pulled herself to the tip of his expanding erection. She revelled in the pressure it built, she found sick, needy pleasure in how it drove him nuts to be out of control.
His hands tightened around her skin, pulling her ass into his palms as he fought his hungry urges. "I've wanted a taste of your weeping pussy the first time you bent over in those tiny jean shorts you wore around last summer." He nipped at her collarbone. "Tell me," he begged breathlessly, still gripping her tightly, "tell me you wanted it too."
She giggled, it dripped from her lips. She had visited her dad for a week and she could feel Steve's eyes watching her even then. She had dug those shorts from the back of her closet, barely squeezing her ass into them before parading around in the apartment. The tip of his dick rolled against her entrance, stretching her wider as he tried to pull her back over him. "I enjoyed watching you squirm," she whispered, "how often do you think about those shorts?" She asked, needing to know the answer.
"As often as I think about your pert little tits in my mouth," he dragged his teeth against her, "more when I dreamed about how good your pussy would feel wrapped around me."
Regan gasped, high and loud as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, biting down and pulling until she cried out before letting go. Her breast stung, pain spreading through it but she relished in it, digging her hands into his hair and pulling. Steve's head fell back, their eyes meeting, and Regan pressed their foreheads together, lips meeting in an open-mouthed, gasping kiss.
"Gonna make me come again, Captain?" she asked breathlessly, rising and falling quickly on his dick. Steve gripped her hips tight enough that her skin was darkening before their eyes but she didn't care, she wanted more. "C'mon Cap, I'm waiting."
Steve snarled and his hips jumped up, pumping into her hard, the chair groaning beneath them but somehow holding together as he fucked up into her. "Gonna make you come so hard you can't even say your name, Regan," he growled, and she hiccuped, tears forming in her eyes from the intense pleasure gathering at the base of her spine.
"Please- Steve I-"
"No, you don't say anything unless you need to stop," Steve grunted, nearly lifting out of the chair as he fucked her.
Regan's face fell forward and she took her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down almost to the point of drawing blood holding back her cries.
She closed her fists on Steve's shirt pulling at the sweat ridden fabric. Her fingers ached to feel his hot skin.
Steve dragged a finger up her chest, the soft graze making her hiss at the contact. He grabbed onto her chin forcing her to look back at him as he pounded into her.
He pulled at her bottom lip with his thumb, "You're taking me so well, sweet girl."
Regan cried out, her hands pulling even tighter on his thin t-shirt. Steve leaned forward hovering his lips over hers, "Rip it off, Regan," he breathed.
She grinned and licked her lips. Regan didn't have to be told twice. She pulled hard at his shirt, hearing the cotton tear between her fingers. Regan instantly let go of the fabric and ran both hands along his chest, enjoying the feeling of his muscles against her hands. "I've been wanting to do that since I saw you in the elevator," she admitted.
Steve chuckled as he halted his movements for a moment and sat up to fully remove his shirt and toss it to the ground before capturing her lips in a searing kiss, devouring her mouth with his. He moaned into her mouth, when she began rocking back and forth against his pelvis once more. Regan was getting so close. Steve pulled back from the kiss and smiled at her.
"Come on baby, ride me. Hard and fast."
As Regan began bouncing faster, clenching her dripping cunt around him, their sounds echoed out into the New York sky. All their cares about who might hear them disappeared. The only thing that mattered was them, at that moment, taking everything they could from each other.
The fire deep in her belly grew with every thrust and she knew she wasn't going to last much longer with the soft praises that dripped from Steve's lips.
“Doing so good for me, darlin’,” he moaned. "Taking every inch just like I knew you would."
All she could feel was heat in her belly, her toes curling and tingling each time their hips met. Their moans reached a crescendo and her fingernails raked down his chest as Steve’s hand came to rest at the base of her throat again. Regan’s lips parted and she grinned, reaching up to cover his hand with her own.
“More,” she whispered, pressing down on his fingers.
Steve grinned.
“You filthy little slut,” he growled as he pressed on the sides of her throat just enough to make her dizzy.
Regan rode him harder and faster, butterflies exploding in her belly and the knot that had been getting tighter and tighter as he hit her g-spot finally snapped. She cried out, wildfire spreading all through her belly and down her legs. Her muscles quivered and Steve released her throat, letting her bury her head in his shoulder as wave after wave of her climax washed over her. He stroked her back and let her slow down for a moment.
“Good girl."
The sound of his husky voice praising her made the wetness between her legs grow even as she drenched his cock and spiraled down from her high. She wanted him to call her all the sweet things all the time, especially if he was praising her for taking him so well. She wanted to feel every inch of him every second of every waking moment and she was quickly granted that wish as he began to pump again chasing the high he hadn't caught.
She leaned into him, offering herself to him like a prize to be won and he took it without mercy. He slipped her off him, lifting her effortlessly from his cock and setting her on her feet. "Prove to me how good you can be," he whispered, reminding her of all the dirty, shameful things she had promised him. She sank to her knees before him as he slid forward and presented his hefty length to her.
His cock had seemed impossibly large, crammed inside of her but as she popped her lips over the tip and sunk down on him she realized how wrong she had been. His hand wrapped into her hair, pulling her down against him until his tip pressed against the back of her throat and tears stung at her eyes. "That's my girl," he whispered, his free hand twisting her sore and sensitive nipple between his fingers. "My sweet little desperate whore, so willing to do as she's told."
She pumped her mouth around him, pushing her tongue against the base of his shaft until he was making sweet noises for her. The grip in her hair tightened and she loosened her throat, welcoming the tantalizing taste of her own pussy mixed with the sweat and need of him down. He pumped twice more, shooting his release down her throat without remorse as he rubbed his thumb across her face and cleared the tears from her eyes.
She pulled away from his cock, licking up from the base to clean him completely and rose from her knees. Standing over him, covered in sweat and bruises, her ass stung from his playful abuse and her cunt clenched sore and sex abused as he drank her in with a sex drunk devilish look on his face. His pupils blown and the strands of his long hair messy and ready to be tugged on, she licked her lips chasing the taste of him as his cock fell against his stomach and he held out his arms to her.
"Pretty girl, you look even better covered in my hand prints."
This time his hands were soft as he brushed her equally messy hair from her face, wiping the remnants of sweat from her upper lip. Regan felt like she was outside of her body. She couldn’t help but giggle, biting her lip when Steve laughed.
“What are you laughin’ at, sweetheart?” He asked softly, the rasp still sending shivers down her spine. “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”
“We ruined this rooftop for everyone,” she shook her head and started laughing even harder. “You broke a fucking table, Steve!”
Steve buried his damp head into her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, Regan forced herself to reach up on her tiptoes to alleviate his hunched position. Chuckles shook her body as his breath cooled her overheated skin.
After a few moments, they came down from the high they created in this not so-secluded location. Earlier on, Regan was worried that she would have regrets afterwards, but that was the furthest thing from her mind.
She watched Steve button his jeans and outstretch his hand, the cornflower blue dress clutched in it. Smiling up through her lashes, she practically vibrated with the feeling of a new adventure in her future. Being with this man was certainly going to be a wild ride.
As if reading her mind, Steve spoke up as his head popped through the neck of his tattered t-shirt.
“So…are we gonna do this again?”
The sweet questioning tone made Regan’s heart flutter, so much so that she crossed the few steps to him. Placing a soft kiss on his slightly chapped lips, she sighed into him and enjoyed the warmth. Heartbeats went by until he tilted her head back and she smiled at his raised eyebrow and stern expression.
“Hell yeah, Cap.”
Steve’s eyes grew heavy as his hand drifted up to fix the neckline of her dress and he bent down to whisper in her ear. His words made a shock of excitement run straight to between her legs, already wanting him again despite the bruises and aches.
“Then I better see you in those shorts tomorrow.”
#steve rogers#steve rogers au#steve rogers x oc#mordern steve rogers#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers smut#steve rogers oneshot#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfiction#marvel au#marvel one shot#marvel oneshot#marvel imagine#marvel fic#modern au#age gap romance#dbf steve rogers#dads best friend#one shot#fluff#marvelous
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"You are technically old enough to be my grandfather but practically young enough to be my son" - Tony Stark about Steve Rogers, probably, at some point
#steve rogers#tony stark#they are dating and neither of them is allowed to start wondering about their age gap#stony
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| one for the road |
Summary: Clint had a wife? Clint had children? Steve was just as shocked as any of them to find out about Barton’s double life, yet what was even more shocking to him was Clint’s oldest daughter, who seemed to sink her claws into Steve’s skin the minute they met and keep them there, unremoved, as he felt himself get pulled deeper and deeper into the workings of her inner mind with every smile of hers.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader
Word count: 4.6k
Warnings: Some fluff, mentions of reader being worried and sad, age gap (reader is 20, Steve is a bajillion years old), reader is Clint’s daughter
Note: part 2
_______________
The farm was usually peaceful. Your days would be filled with the sounds of your siblings watching cartoons, or the tea kettle whistling, or your mother humming to herself as she cooked, whatever vegetables she had thrown in the pan sizzling softly.
There were the rare occasions on which your father would finally drop by, staying for a few nights before having to fly out on a mission again. Those days were filled with laughter, your brother and sister yelling happily as your dad recounted the adventures he had been on for them, and silent tears as your mother hid away in the bathroom to weep because she knew, eventually, he would have to leave again, and every single time was harder than the last because you didn’t know if this would be it. The last time you ever saw your father alive and smiling.
She thought you didn’t notice, but you did. You kept track of every little thing that went on with her, and with him, and even heard bits and pieces of their worried conversations late at night behind closed doors. But you didn’t want her more worried than she already was, so you kept it all in. Bottled up your own concerns and forced a huge smile to your face as you drank in the view of your family together at the dinner table.
So, other than that, the farm was usually peaceful.
Usually.
Today, it seemed, was not one of those days.
You heard the familiar engine of the quinjet before you saw it, and you hurried over to your bedroom window to watch it soar down and land into the trees. The giddiness in your bones picked up pace as you watched the door open, and your father stepped out, with an arm wrapped around a seemingly glum Aunt Nat.
Your brows furrowed as you squinted your eyes against the sun, catching against the silver glint of metal behind your father. You focused your gaze, and your eyes widened as you took in a hammer and a head of blond hair. And another head of blond hair above broad shoulders as wide as the shield resting on them.
Dad brought the Avengers home.
Your father bringing the rest of his team home could mean either one of two things: something really bad happened, or something really good happened.
You had high doubts it was the latter.
You watched the men trail behind your dad, down the rocky path, past your barn, your eyes following them all the way until they reached your porch and disappeared under the sill of your window and you could no longer see them.
The faint call of your father’s voice, followed by the happy screams of your brother and sister mixed with the low timbre of new, unfamiliar voices, pulled you from your window and down the stairs.
“... off S.H.I.E.L.D’s records,” your dad had just finished explaining before he turned his head towards you.
The smile that grew on his face was almost as big as yours as you hurried toward him with open arms, slamming into his chest and pulling a huff from his lungs.
“I missed you,” you muttered into his shoulder, and he patted your back.
“I missed you too, kid. I’m sorry I was gone so long this time.”
You pulled back, and met familiar eyes.
“Nat!”
Natasha wrapped her arms around you before you could say another word, her hug bone-crushing, yet the pain of it was known to you and grounding.
“I hope you haven’t been causing any trouble while I was away saving the world,” she whispered into your ear, and you smiled, rolling your eyes.
“It’s no saving the world,” you replied as you pulled away, “but I’ve been helping mom just fine.”
Someone cleared their throat to your left, and you finally turned your attention to the line of men standing in your now-too small living room, staring at you like you were a wild beast.
“Hi,” you simply said, eyes going down the line, from one to the next, snagging on a particular tall blond with blue eyes and pink lips threatening to curl into a curious smile. “I’ve heard all about you guys.”
The shortest one - Tony, you knew, of course - blinked and stared at you. He pointed at you, then at your dad, then back at you, and gave your dad an incredulous look.
“This - she’s - You made this?”
You bit back a smile when your dad sighed.
“Yeah, Tony. Twenty years ago.”
Tony blinked at him, then back at you, and you smiled at him.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark. I’m Y/N.”
Tony squinted at you, but before he could say anything, the tallest one - Thor, obviously - stepped forward. You tried not to be intimidated by his sheer size and the fact that he was a god breathing the same air as you, and instead focused on smiling up at him politely, and not gaping at his hammer you had heard so many stories about - from your dad, and others.
“I suspect you’re the eldest Barton offspring?” his booming voice asked, and you swore you could’ve laughed at the groan your dad let out behind you.
You almost did laugh when Thor bent down slightly to be level with you, and squinted his eyes as he stared at you while you nodded. “Yup, that’s me. Firstborn, first raised.”
You held your breath as you stared at each other, and you were about to turn and hide behind your father until Thor broke out into a cheesy grin. He flung his heavy arm around your shoulders, and you grunted under the weight of the impact.
“Well then we have something in common, mini-Barton,” he said proudly, and you breathed out a chuckle.
Turning your head as best as you could in Thor’s grasp, you smiled at Bruce.
“Dr. Banner,” you said kindly.
He looked stunned at your acknowledgement of him, fidgeting with his fingers deep in the holes of his sweater as he gave you a small, albeit hesitant smile.
“I’ve heard so much about your brilliant work,” you continued, all the while trying to push Thor’s heavily muscled arm from your neck. “I think you’re quite possibly the greatest scientist of our time.”
You almost missed the little noise of protest that came from Tony as you finally pulled yourself free from the god, and you huffed lightly as you fixed your hair and shirt. Your eyes met baby blue when you stepped to the side, and you held your hand out.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” was what he replied, a teasing half smile on his plump lips threatening to distract you. He took your hand and held it a second longer than he should have in his firm grip.
“I’m Steve Rogers.”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” you breathed and nodded, and he gave you a smile that was more sincere than the one of amusement he was wearing a moment ago.
The toaster dinged behind you, pulling you from your trance as everyone’s heads turned toward the kitchen.
“You guys hungry?”
_______________
This was bad.
It was morally, ethically, completely wrong in it’s very principle core, and Steve knew that. Yet he couldn’t stop his eyes from following you as you moved about the kitchen, stacking plates on top of plates and forks on top of forks, helping Laura as the rest of them chatted. He caught the way you smiled to yourself at something your brother said, and the sad twinkle in your eye as Clint placed a kiss to your mother’s temple.
Steve was in the middle of trying to tear his eyes away from the way your bare feet padded across the hardwood of the living room when he felt a kick to his ankle.
He turned his head, only to find Natasha already looking at him with her eyebrows raised in question and something that seemed to be protectiveness. He answered with a defensive shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head; he definitely had no idea what that look was about.
“Steve?”
Your melodic voice pulled his attention back to you. “Yes?”
You gave him a small smile and lifted the glass you were holding. “I asked if you preferred orange juice or apple juice.”
“Oh,” he said lamely, and blinked a couple times before shaking his head. “Whichever one you prefer is fine.”
Your smile grew as you nodded and turned towards the counter. He watched you pour two glasses of apple juice, before turning back around and stepping around Tony carefully to bring him his glass.
“Thank you,” Steve said, looking up at you from his place at the table, and he meant it. You waved him off and went to sit at your own seat.
“By the way,” your mother’s voice chimed, “I took the liberty of setting you all up in your rooms.”
You chewed your toast as you listened to her rattle off her bedroom planning: Natasha and Bruce were staying in one room, and Tony and Steve in another.
You missed the subtle wink your mom threw Nat when Tony cut in.
“Uh-uh, no way,” he said, adamantly shaking his head above his plate. “Not a chance I’m sharing a room with Rogers.”
“Tony-” Steve began, but Tony glared at him.
“I’d rather die. Find somewhere else to go, Rogers.”
“Well,” Steve started with his brows furrowed. “Where do you recommend I go, Tony?”
Tony shrugged, unbothered by the situation. “Their barn is pretty big.”
Your dad tensed. Nat’s chair scraped slightly against the floor, and Steve opened his mouth to reply.
Before he could, though, you interrupted.
“My room,” you blurted out. They all turned to look at you, dumbfounded, and the look on your dad’s face had you scrambling to reiterate. “You can - you can take my room, I mean.”
Steve blinked at you, his harsh gaze softening. “Are you sure?”
You nodded, suddenly feeling small under so many pairs of eyes. “Yeah. I can sleep with Lila tonight.”
Nobody said anything, and you could see the uncertainty in Steve’s eyes as he contemplated your offer.
“I insist,” you pushed. “It’s no big deal.”
Steve stared at you a moment longer, before nodding slowly. “Thank you.”
And he looked like he meant it.
_______________
How did he like his coffee?
Black? With milk? Did he even like coffee? Oh God, what if he didn’t like coffee?
You took in a deep worried breath, and let it out, all the questions clouding your mind leaving with it. You’d already made it, might as well bite the bullet now.
You carried the mug through the house, careful not to spill hot coffee all over your hand and the floor, finally relaxing your shoulders when you made it to the front porch and set the mug down on the railing.
They weren’t hard to spot; it wasn’t like there was much going on around the farm anyways, but at least now you had some nice eye candy to look at while you moped around the house.
Tony and Steve were chopping wood. Well, Steve was chopping wood, and Tony was talking his ear off and occasionally splitting a log or two. You bit back a smile of amusement when you saw Steve visibly sigh at something Tony had said, and then he replied.
Your brows furrowed when they stepped closer to each other, and their voices raised. So, this wasn’t exactly a friendly conversation.
Steve picked up a particularly large log, and cut off whatever Tony was saying by ripping it in half with his bare hands. Like it was a piece of paper. Your eyes widened, and you grabbed the coffee mug again.
You were planning on waiting them out, content to watch them chop wood in their tight t-shirts until they finished, but by the defensive stance Steve had now taken up, you decided now was a better time than any to butt in.
Your feet clambered down the creaky wooden stairs, and you tried not to seem panicked as you hurried your way over to them across the grass.
“Hi-”
Both of them turned abruptly to look at you, and you gave them a small, slightly breathless smile, before turning to Tony.
“Um, dad said you wouldn’t mind... but our tractor in the barn won’t start and-”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take a look at it,” Tony said, waving you off before turning away.
Before he left, he turned back to Steve and pointed at the chopped wood. “Don’t take from my pile.”
Steve watched him go with an amused smile quirking the corner of his lips, before he shook his head.
Turning back to you, he rested his hands on his hips, and you swallowed heavily, focusing your eyes on his face and not the ripple of muscle with his every movement. Why does he buy such tight shirts?
He nodded to the mug in your hand. “What’s that?”
It seemed to pull you from your stupor, because you let out a soft “Oh!” before giving him a sheepish smile. You held out the mug towards him, and he stared at it in your hand, before his eyes flicked back to your face, and then he silently took the mug from you.
“I - I didn’t know how you took your coffee, or if you liked coffee at all, really, I just thought you could use a bit of a pick-me-up... which now that I think about it, sounds stupid, ‘cause you’re a supersoldier and you probably don’t even need pick-me-ups-”
“It’s perfect,” Steve interrupted after taking a sip, and the way he licked his lips after had you losing your train of thought. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Your mouth fell open into a small O, and you nodded. “Cool. Great.”
Steve took a seat on the large stump of wood he had been using to chop wood on, and you perched yourself opposite him on Tony’s. He took another sip of coffee, blue eyes staring at you above the rim, and you loosed a small sigh.
“So... how’s farm life?”
You smiled, and shrugged lowly, letting your eyes fall to the ground. “It’s fine. Kind of boring sometimes, but there are other fun days that make up for it.”
He nodded as you spoke, and he then he looked up at your house. There was something there, in his eyes, in his gaze, that had you wanting to climb inside his mind and read every thought racing through it. It made you want to know what went on inside his head when he ran quiet.
After a while, Steve spoke. “I always wanted a big house like this.”
His words were quiet, and you tilted your head. “You did?”
He nodded. “With a big porch, and a big yard for my kids to play in. On a farm, too. Chickens and tractors and horses, the whole nine yards.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the image planted inside your head.
“So, why don’t you get one?”
His furrowed brows had you explaining. “A big house, I mean. And a porch and a yard for your kids.”
Steve was silent for what felt like a long minute, staring down at the coffee swirling in his mug, before smiling up at you sadly.
He shrugged. “I haven’t found the right person to do it with yet.”
“Oh. I see.”
____
Steve felt like someone had sucker punched him in the gut, knocking all the air from his lungs, and he willed himself to just keep breathing.
You probably had no idea how beautiful you were, sitting across from him, surrounded by the woodchips and the smell of sawdust, staring back at him with concern and something else in your bright eyes.
It took a broken person to know a broken person, and from the moment Steve laid eyes on you, he knew your smile was a little too wide, your laugh a little too loud, and your answers a little too urgent to be authentic. And as weird as it may have been, Steve wanted to crack your skull open and trickle into you, seep into your pores like a gas and swirl around in your lungs as he got to know you better. More intimately.
But he couldn’t. So, he settled for sipping the coffee you made him and making small talk with you. After all, your parents were watching.
_______________
“This is so weird,” you admitted.
Steve gave you a funny grin, narrowing his eyes. “What?”
You held back a laugh as you shrugged, and held your hands out to gesture to the space around you, then to him.
“This is my room. And you,” you pointed at him, “are Captain America. And you’re sitting in my room, looking at all of my stuff, breathing in my air. You’re butt is on my study chair!”
Steve let out a laugh at that, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I get it now.”
He twisted in your chair, and his eyes caught on something colorful in the dim glow of your desk lamp, the only source of light other than the moon creeping over your windowsill.
“What’s this?” he asked as he lifted it from the desk.
“Oh! My photo album,” you said excitedly, and grabbed it from his hand before plopping yourself down onto the rug by his feet. “In truth, it’s just a random album I decorated and then filled with pictures I periodically stole from mom’s albums. But it’s mine.”
Steve chuckled, and pointed down at the album when you opened it. “Is that you?”
You nodded, and felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the prospect of showing Captain America your baby pictures. But it didn’t seem like he minded, so you brushed the thought away and continued.
You kept flipping through the pages, stopping every now and then when Steve had a question (”when was that?” or “that’s Barton?”), and eventually, the two of you had compiled a list of your favorites, and you had taken them out of the album and spread them around you on the rug.
Your favorites mainly included pictures of your dad cringing while holding you with a full diaper (which was more often than you realized) and photos of Laura holding all three of you, each when you were babies.
Steve was currently laughing at the idea of Clint Barton having to change poopy diapers, and you were smiling brightly up at him.
His laughter slowly died down, and he let out a big sigh. It was only then that you noticed the slight tenseness in his shoulders, the faint bags under his eyes, and his weary but dopey expression.
You swallowed heavily, but the lump in your throat refused to go away, so you decided to ignore it as best you could as you turned your body on the floor to face him.
Resting your arms on his large thigh, and your head on your arms, you stared up at him.
He seemed to calm down, all his movements and his breathing slowing and his eyes blinking down at you with lazy yet satisfied curiosity.
“You’re tired,” was all you said, the words low and hanging in the air between you.
Steve searched your face for a moment, before subtly nodding. “I am.”
“Should I ask?”
He shook his head, bringing a hand down to grab one of yours, squeezing it lightly.
“I’m tired, too.”
“I know,” he rasped. “I can tell.”
“How?”
“I can see it in your eyes when you smile.”
“Mmm.”
The few words exchanged between you were now mere whispers, as if both of you were afraid to be any louder, so as not to disrupt the peaceful lull you’ve created.
“And I’m scared,” you admitted quietly, and he frowned down at you. Immediately, you wanted the worried creases between his brows gone. They seemed to dim the light in his eyes. So, you changed your position, sitting on your haunches in front of him and raising a hand up to run your thumb between his brows, smoothing the skin and simultaneously pulling a pink blush to his cheeks.
“Scared of what, sweetheart?”
You shrugged sadly, even if you knew the answer. The orange glow from your lamp only made you seem sadder, so Steve leaned forward closer to you.
“Scared of what?” he repeated, and you sighed, meeting his eyes in earnest.
“I’m scared that... I’m scared of...” you began, but didn’t know how to formulate your thoughts, and you huffed. Steve squeezed your hand again.
You continued. “What if, one day, dad leaves us to go on a mission... and he just - doesn’t come back again?”
Even saying it out loud made you uneasy, a steady burning behind your eyes threatening to turn into pools of tears, and Steve sighed heavily.
“That won’t happen,” he muttered firmly, and you gave him a weary frown.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I just do. Your dad loves you very much. All of you. And he’s very good at what he does,” he insisted, and you shrugged a bit. “In fact, he’s the best of us, I’d say.”
“Really?” you whispered, glancing up at him through your lashes, and Steve nodded.
“Really.”
You watched him, and he watched you. You sat in silence for a moment, before you cleared your throat softly.
“I’m... also afraid of something else.”
Steve’s brows shot up lazily. “Do tell.”
“I’m afraid that...,” you trailed off, and he nodded for you to continue.
Was it just your imagination, or was he closer than he had been a minute ago? Steve’s eyes flickered to your lips, then met your gaze again. Your eyelids felt heavy.
“I’m afraid that this time, when dad leaves, I’ll be worrying about the safety of two people instead of one,” you finally murmured, and as soon as the words were out, Steve’s lips were on yours.
When had you closed your eyes? It didn’t matter. You couldn’t focus on anything with his soft lips melting into yours.
One of Steve’s hands went up to your jaw, pulling you even closer to him in between his spread legs, and your own hands found their way to his comforting hoodie, pulling him in tighter.. Your lips parted slightly when you felt his tongue swipe at them, begging to be let in, and he sighed into your mouth when you tugged softly at his hair.
You couldn’t help smiling against his lips, and in turn, causing him to smile too. Your teeth clashed into each other, and you giggled before pulling away.
Steve Rogers was a supersoldier. Him being a supersoldier meant he had an abnormally fast metabolism, making him less susceptible to weight gain and loss than normal people. It also meant he couldn’t get drunk anymore, not with the amount of alcohol that was societally accepted, anyway. But right now, looking up at him, his eyes half-closed and a stupid smile on his flushed face, Steve looked drunk.
Drunk on your kiss. Drunk on you.
Your lips still tingled; you still felt him there, a phantom touch of the softness that tasted like mint and faint coffee.
“I don’t need you worryin’ your pretty little head about me, doll,” Steve whispered, voice gravelly in his throat, and it sent a chill down your spine, settling in prickling needles at the base of it.
“I want to, though. I need to worry about you now.”
Steve smiled, half in amusement, half in disbelief, as his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you in again.
_______________
“Mrs. Barton, you’ve truly been too kind,” Bruce’s polite words rang from somewhere in the house, and your mother’s reply followed them soon after.
You, Steve and Aunt Nat stood waiting for the rest of them on the porch. You had already said your goodbyes, but if you spent a second more inside the house with the heavy atmosphere and teary eyes, you would’ve had a breakdown. Natasha noticed this in the way your breathing became labored, and locked an arm through yours as she pulled you out the front door.
A comfortable silence surrounded the three of you as the chatter from inside the house carried through the windows, until it was broken by Nat swearing.
Steve frowned, turning towards her. “What is it?”
Nat patted around her pockets, then groaned. “I forgot my stupid GPS upstairs.”
“I can get it for you,” you offered, but Natasha waved you off with a roll of her eyes.
“It’s fine, honey, it’s my mistake anyways.”
And with that, she breezed past you, the screen door slamming shut behind her. Soon after, you heard a couple yells from inside the house, and you presumed she had made a slight detour caused by a tiny distraction.
You heaved out a sigh, and Steve leaned against the porch railing, smiling in amusement at you.
You glanced up at him, then glanced away before he could notice the red tinge to your cheeks. “What?”
He shook his head, but the smile never left his face. “Nothin’, sweetheart. Jus’ like lookin’ at you.”
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
Steve chuckled, before pushing himself off the railing and taking a step towards you.
You furrowed your brows in suspicion. “What are you doing, Rogers?”
“Oh, so it’s Rogers now?” he teased with a smile, and you bit back your own grin as he backed you into the wall of the house.
“Gimme a kiss,” he whispered, your breaths mingling in the close proximity, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest with every loud word or sudden movement from inside the house.
You shook your head. “Someone could come out any second.”
Steve pouted. “So?”
“So?” you repeated incredulously. “What if my dad sees?”
He gave you a sneaky grin, before dipping his head down to whisper into your ear, “I can handle your old man if that happens.”
You gave him a look, but no matter how much you tried convincing him it was a bad idea, he seemed to like said idea even more.
“C’mon, please?”
You let out a heavy sigh, turning your head to the side, watching the door for a moment. Steve’s grin widened; he knew he won.
“You’re such an asshole, Steve,” you muttered, and grabbed his face in both your hands, pulling him toward you.
Your lips met his, and again, you felt the same fireworks from last night. For a brief moment, you wondered what it would be like to kiss him all day, every day, and if the fireworks would be there each and every time. They probably would.
Steve smiled against your lips, pushing you deeper against the wall, until you pulled away with a slight smack.
“That was for good luck,” you said breathlessly, and before he could blink, you pressed your lips to his again.
Pulling away, you let your hands rest on his chest as you smiled up at him. “And that was for the road.”
Footsteps thudded through the house, and you quickly pushed Steve away from you. He reassumed his previous position, leaning against the railing, and you decided you had no time to do anything but stay right where you were, leaning against the wall.
Your eyes met his, and the blue in them glittered with mischief as he licked his lips. You took in a deep breath and tore your gaze away from him the very second your father stepped out onto the porch.
“Ready to go, Cap?” he asked, and Steve gave him a low bow of his head.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
_______________
TAGLIST:
@dreamsley @a-ngeli-que @555shots @agirlinherhead @s-katergorl @ace-27749 @leyannrae @tailsoflightning @acidwidow @angelofthorr @gallysonegoodlung @creatingjana @gitasor @artofluxuryy @inlovewfictionalmen826 @pin-ci @peaches1958 @eichenhouseproperty @seitmai @writing-for-marvel
#marvel#mcu#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x you#captain america#captain america fanfiction#captain america fanfic#captain america x reader#captain america x you#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers angst#barton!reader#steve rogers age gap#the avengers: age of ultron#age of ultron#steve rogers age of ultron
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thinking about 1940s-50s au experienced actor!Steven Grant Rogers starring alongside young starlet reader and helping her relax/be comfortable on set and in scenes with him🥺😭
Rereading 7 husbands of Evelyn Hugo has revitalized my love for old Hollywood aesthetic drama and glamour
#does this sound interesting to anyone lmao#or would it be weird for me to write within this time period lol#not me thinking of doing a little age gap🥸🤠#not huge tho#evie talks#evie shitposts#Steve rogers au#Steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#Steve rogers x reader au
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Captain America (2005) #25
#the complexity of growing up learning about a guy as a deceased historical figure#eventually learning that he was your elderly aunt’s lover#and then meeting and falling in love with him and there’s no serious age gap#like they’re from different times#but I think Steve would have been 25 or 26 when he got frozen#the spectre of Captain America was at once so big and so intimately connected to Sharon#and then he’s her boyfriend#marvel#steve rogers#sharon carter#my posts#comic panels
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.
𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!
“The girl’s ready, Captain.”
Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”
“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve’s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.
His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.
That left Steve. But Steve had this.
I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.
Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.
And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.
You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.
“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”
Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.
“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.
Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.
And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.
After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.
And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.
“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”
Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…
“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.
He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.
“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”
“Get on the bed.”
“H-Huh?”
“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”
Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.
And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.
Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.
Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.
What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.
“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.
The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.
“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.
You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”
Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.
“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.
“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”
“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”
Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”
He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.
“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”
Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.
“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”
You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.
He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.
“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.
“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.
It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.
“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”
You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.
“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”
You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”
“Take it out.”
A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.
“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.
“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”
He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.
“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”
“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.
“Stroke it.” He instructs you.
You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”
“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”
You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.
“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”
Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.
“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”
You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.
He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.
“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.
Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.
“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”
You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”
“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”
Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?
He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.
“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”
“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”
Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.
Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.
“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”
You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.
Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.
But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.
“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.
“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”
There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”
“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”
Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.
Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.
He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.
He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.
“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.
“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.
“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”
He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.
Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.
“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.
With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.
It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.
You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.
“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”
It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.
He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.
“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.
You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,�� you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”
Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.
“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”
His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.
“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”
With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.
“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”
“H-Huh?”
“You heard me.”
You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.
“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.
“You’ve never fingered yourself?”
“No!”
“Tell me why not.”
You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”
A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?” His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”
The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.
“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.
Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”
You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.
“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”
This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.
“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.
“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”
He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.
“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”
It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.
And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.
“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.
He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.
“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.
“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.
“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”
You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.
“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”
His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.
“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”
You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”
“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.
“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.
Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.
Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.
But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.
He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.
“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”
Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…
He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…
“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”
How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.
“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.
“N-No, Captain.”
“Why not?”
“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.
Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.
“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”
He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.
Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.
Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.
He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.
Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.
He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.
He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.
“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.
He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.
He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.
Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.
He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.
Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.
“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.
“Yes.”
You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.
“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”
“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.
You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.
“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”
A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.
He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.
Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.
“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”
You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.
“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.
“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.
The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).
You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.
“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”
“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”
He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.
“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.
Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.
The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.
He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
You’ve passed out.
“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.
“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.
It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.
“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”
He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.
“I-It hurts!”
“Address me properly.”
“C-Captain, it hurts!”
He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”
Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.
“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”
Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.
“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”
You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”
Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!
With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.
“Now you can scream.”
“Huh?”
He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.
A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.
“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”
You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”
Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.
“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.
“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”
Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.
I deserve this, he thinks to himself.
He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.
“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”
You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”
“Answer me!”
“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.
Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”
“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”
The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…
For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.
“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.
“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”
Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.
He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.
“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.
He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”
You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.
“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”
He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.
“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –
“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.
“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”
“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.
“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”
“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”
Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.
“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.
You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.
He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.
Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.
With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.
He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.
“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”
This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.
“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”
“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.
With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air. It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.
“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”
It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.
“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”
“Wh-What?”
He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.
He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.
“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”
Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.
“Use your words.”
“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”
You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.
“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.
“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.
Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”
You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.
You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.
All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.
He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.
“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.
“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”
“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”
He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.
“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”
“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”
He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.
And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.
“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”
You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.
“Answer me, baby girl.”
“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”
“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.
But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.
“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”
You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”
“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”
Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.
“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”
“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.
“Wh-What–”
“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”
Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”
He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.
“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”
Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.
With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.
Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.
“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”
Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”
Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”
“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”
“N-No, I–”
He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.
“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”
“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.
“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”
You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.
“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”
“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.
The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.
“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.
“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.
Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.
Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.
Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.
***
It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.
The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.
“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.
“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”
The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.
“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”
“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”
They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.
“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.
His beautiful, broken little bride.
“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”
Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.
Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.
He deserved this.
AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.
ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!
#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#chris evans#dark steve rogers#steve rogers x you#steve rogers fanfiction#chris evans fanfiction
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You know, I had a thought about this new “teens shouldn’t have intergenerational relationships” thing, and you know what I’m wondering?
If the death of the live-action kids’ show has anything to do with it.
Like okay, off the top of my head as a kid I had Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, Lamb Chop’s Play-Along, Big Comfy Couch, Zoom, Gullah Gullah Island, Zoom, Eureeka’s Castle, Reading Rainbow, Sesame Street, and Crocodile Hunter, and while I never got into Zoobomafoo, it also existed. I was a little too young for Pee-Wee’s Funhouse and The Electric Company, but only by a bit—my sister remembered both.
And on all of these shows except Zoom (which was all teens and tweens), you had adults talking to you. And each of these shows was aimed at a different childhood age group—I think only Mister Rogers was truly ages 0-12. So from babyhood onward, you had adults modeling for you what an adult/child friendship should look like, and also often reminding you that grownups who made you uncomfortable were cause to talk to a grownup you trusted. Yes, these were parasocial relationships, but they were teaching you how to have real relationships with similar age gaps, and the way, say, Shari Lewis treated you when you were Lamb Chop age was very different from how Steve Irwin treated you when you were Crocodile Hunter age. They were never condescending, but a three-year-old and an eight-year-old have very different wants and needs and these shows were aware of this.
This didn’t die out with my age group. Older Gen Zs had Blue’s Clues and Reading Rainbow kept going for awhile. But by 2012, when I was helping take care of my niblings, I didn’t see a single show like this on TV. Even Sesame Street seemed to have phased out all the human characters. Mister Rogers, who’d taught my generation the importance of knowing reality from fantasy, had been replaced by animated versions of the characters from The Land of Make-Believe. Muppet and puppet shows were a thing of the past. Shari Lewis was long dead, and nobody had taken her place. Gullah Gullah Island was cancelled and Big Comfy Couch was gone.
I can’t help but think this is a factor in this fracture. If your at-home adults are dysfunctional, or don’t take you places where you can safely interact with other adults as a child, OF COURSE you’re not going to feel safe doing it when you’re a bit older, because you literally never had it modeled for you what it’s supposed to look like. The respect I was shown by Steve Irwin and Shari Lewis and Fred Rogers and Molly the Clown never got shown to later Gen Z.
So how do we fix it?
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Need someone older | Steve Rogers
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> DBF!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> Your dad’s best friend, Steve Rogers, has a kind that makes your body reacts in a needy way whenever he is around you. So when your dad is taking a shower he shows you that he can help your arching feeling better as the boys you know from university.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 2.019
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI, smut, dry humping, praises, dirty talk, age gap
Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist
Divider made by @firefly-graphics.
“Hey, babygirl,” a rough, familiar voice says behind you, and the man behind you smirks when you hum in response.
You turn around to face the blond, tall man behind you. Your dad’s best friend - Steve Rogers. He is as tall as your dad, muscular, and has short blond hair. His beard is trimmed, and for a moment, you get lost in your thoughts. You love that look, especially because it defines his ocean blue eyes and gives you a lot of thoughts that aren’t as innocent as you look like. You always have a thing for older men, and for Steve even more; his stubble would probably feel so good between your legs while his long, thick fingers slide in and out of you. You try not to moan when you just think about the filthy things he could do to you. You’re pretty small compared to him, and it makes your knees weak. Your pussy starts dripping whenever you’re close to him. And the way your lips are parting so slightly that no one sees it, your eyes so filled with lust, but you just smile and nod softly. Steve chuckles, like he always does when he sees the reaction he has on you, the way you act when he is around you, pressing your legs together, digging your nails in the hem of your shirt, or the surface of the kitchen counter. He sees the way your eyes roam over his muscular body - little do you know he wears shirts that fit like a second skin. Steve enjoys the way your lips are parted, knowing that you think no one sees the way you stare at him, almost drooling over the older man.
“Like what you see?” He tears, walking a step closer, so you have to look up to look into his face and his beautiful blue eyes. “Answer me. Tell me, do you like what you see? Don’t be shy.”
Your eyes widen slightly, and you whimper. His smile grows when he has the reaction he wants to have. You make him go crazy, and he doesn’t need to do much more than stand there. Steve loves to see how small you look, the way you don’t manage to get a word out when he looks into your eyes, the way you clench your thighs and whimper - for relief, wanting him to help you get rid of the aching feeling between your legs. His hand glides to your waist, and he pulls you closer. Your chin almost touches his broad chest, which causes a gasp to leave your lips. His fingers digging into the soft skin of yours, a shiver running along your spine, and you grip the kitchen counter behind you tighter, trying to ground yourself.
“Rogers. Do you annoy her again?” Your dad shouts from behind, and Steve grins.
“Do I, princess?” He asks loudly enough for Bucky to hear him.
You shake your head, but Steve lets go of you to smile softly and walk to Bucky. He smirks at him before they walk out of the kitchen and into the garden. Your breath hitches, your hands are shaking, and your knees are weak. Your nails are digging into the surface of the counter behind you, helping you not to fall down. This man can do things you didn’t know he could do; your panties are soaked with your arousal, and he hasn’t even touched you in a way that could explain your throbbing pussy.
“Dinner is ready in half an hour,” Bucky tells you, and when you reply with a short one, he continues his conversation with Steve.
You made your way to the living room, letting yourself slip on the couch while you watched television. Bucky and Steve are still in the garden, taking about everything and nothing. Your legs are pressed together, and while your head rests against the backrest, your mind is going wild with thoughts about what your dad’s best friend could do with you - with his tongue, with his fingers, or with his dick. You have never thought about it, but you’re sure he is huge. And Steve is experienced in bed, so he will probably do a good job when he fucks a woman, making her scream his name while she comes over his dick over and over again. Just the thought makes you wetter as you already are, and you press your thighs further together, trying to get some friction at your arching pussy. How would it feel when Steve just had a taste of you? When his stubble brushes so softly against your thigh and your pussy or when his thick fingers disappear between your wet, tight walls. He would be more talented than the guys your age, but he is your dad’s best friend and almost double your age. You’re probably not even his type of woman. Maybe you should just date some guys your age, but they are not like Steve - not so nice and handsome.
“Buck is taking a shower, then we can eat,” Steve suddenly says and stands next to you.
“O-Oke,” you mumble, and for a moment you get lost in his beautiful blue eyes.
“You haven’t answered my question earlier. So did you like what you saw?”
You smile softly; it’s more than just that you like to see him standing in front of you; you imagine filthy things he could do to you.
“Yes, I-I like what I see when you’re standing in front of me.”
Your cheeks heat up, and you turn your head away. Steve chuckles, adoring the way you try to hide the red on your cheeks, trying to hide that you’re throbbing wet because of him. He lets himself fall down next to you on the couch, his arm resting on the backrest behind you. You feel warmth rushing through the part between your legs, causing you to press your thighs together.
“I like what I see when I’m standing in front of you too, babydoll.”
The gasp that leaves your lips makes the older man chuckle. His grin playfully, and his eyes were glistening with lust. Steve’s hand slides up and down his thigh, inching closer to his dick, and you follow his hand with your eyes before you let your gaze roam over his body, looking at his hand, which is now covering the growing bulge in his pants. Your breath hitches when you see his dick pressing his pants up. You’re adorable when you look at him like that. You can’t keep your eyes off of his bulge while he slides his hand slowly over it.
“I- Are you-?”
“Hard because of you? Yes, wanna give me a helping hand?” He asks, smirking.
“D- You- Stevie-“ you stutter, your eyes widening while you look at him.
Your eyes meet, and you almost don’t recognize him leaning closer. Only when his hands find your hips and his fingers trail slowly under the fabric of your shirt. His touch feels like electricity, and you gasp once again. Steve lifts you up like you weigh nothing and places you on his lap, his bulge pressing against your core. You moan softly when you move a bit, feeling the friction between your legs and his bulge growing underneath you.
“B-But dad can hear us,” you say quietly, placing your hands on his shoulders to push you up.
Steve holds you firmly on his lap, pushing you back down on his covered dick when you try to push yourself off of him. He moves your hips slowly over his bulge. You whimper and close your eyes for a moment while he groans. The older man pushes his hips upward, pushing his dick more against you. The movements make you moan and whimper softly. You then let your head fall forward and against his shoulder. Steve smirks. He loves the way you let him touch you like that, the way your body reacts to his touches, and he loves to see you all desperate for his dick, grinding against his bulge.
“He won’t unless you’re loud. But he wanted to take a shower so he wouldn’t hear or see us,” Steve says, looking into your eyes when you push yourself up.
Your lips are just inches away from one another, and his tongue glides over his bottom lip, his glistening saliva coating the soft, plump lips, and your eyes switch from his eyes to his lips back to his eyes. Then he leans closer and captures your lips with his. He moves your hips harshly over his hard dick. You moan into the kiss and slide your hands into his hair, tugging at them. You would like to feel him inside of you; he feels huge, and it makes your cunt drip more, causing arousal to soak your panties.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me. So hungry and desperate for my dick. You want a man, don’t you? Someone who takes care of you and knows how to treat you right, to make you feel good,” he mumbles against your lips, and you moan in response.
Steve smirks and kisses your jawline and along your neck. His fingers are digging into your skin, while you feel the feeling of pleasure growing in your stomach. Your whimpering turns more and more into moaning. You tug harsher at his hair, and Steve knows that your orgasm is just as close as he is.
“Feeling good, princess? Feeling like a princess on daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna feel it inside of you?” He asks, and you can’t help but throw your head back, grinding harder against him.
He knows exactly what to say and what to do to make a woman go crazy, to make her even more desperate, and to make her feel good. Steve stops your movements, and you immediately look at him, confused about why he stopped you.
“Please- so, so close,” you whimper, pouting softly.
“Answer my question. Do you feel like a princess on daddy’s cock?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Wanna feel daddy’s huge dick inside of your little pussy? Is she already begging for attention?”
“Y-Yes, begging for daddy’s attention,” you mumble, trying to grind against him.
He laughs softly before he lets you grind over his bulge. You’re a moaning mess on top of him, bringing both of you closer to the edge. He enjoys the view of you humping him like a desperate slut, and that’s what you are right now. You would agree with him; should he ask you, you would tell him you’re his little desperate slut.
“Please, c-can I come?” you ask, pressing your lips against Steve’s.
“Come for me; soak your panties, pretty girl. Make daddy come in his pants,” he groans, pressing you further down on his covered dick.
You move a few more times over his bulge before the two of you come into your pants, breathing heavily, and Steve kisses you once more to make you shut up while he helps you to move, riding out your orgasm.
“You’re so good for me; daddy’s proud of you, princess.”
Just in time, you two catch your breath, and you’re sitting next to him, talking about the university, when your dad appears with a towel around his waist. His hair is wet, and the water is still flowing down his body.
“Take on some clothes; your daughter doesn’t need to see you naked, Buck," Steve laughs and earns a groan from Bucky.
You’re still calming down from your orgasm; imagine Steve walking with just a towel, wet hair, and his body glistening through the apartment.
“How about I take care of you when Bucky is on his work drip?” Steve asks quietly, and you smile softly before you nod, leaning in for a short kiss before he gets up and walks outside to finally eat.
You follow him. Steve would prefer something else instead of the barbecue he and your dad just made, but he still enjoys it. Especially when he sees your still-red cheeks with the knowledge that your pants are soaked with your cum.
┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓
𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨
𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.
┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛
Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber
#marvel#mcu#marvel mcu#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x you#chris evans steve rogers#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader smut#steve smut#steve x reader smut#steve rogers x fem reader smut#steve rogers x yn#steve rogers x f!reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x female reader#DBF!Steve Rogers#DBF!Steve Rogers x reader#DBF!Steve Rogers x Reader smut#DBF!Steve Rogers x female Reader#chris evans characters#chris evans character x yn#chris evans character x fem reader#chris evans character x you#chris evans character x reader#chris evans character fanfiction#captain america x y/n#captain america x you
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Traders of love (lust) masterlist
Summary: Our dear readers are in trouble. They sell the only thing they have left. Their body and dignity.
Pairing: Different (multi-fandom) characters x fem!Reader (different reader in every story)
Warnings: angst, kinda prostitution in some chapters, dub-con, extortion, voyeurism, roleplay, smut, virginity kink, pregnancy kink, daddy kink, sir kink, size kink, all the kinks, a/b/o kink, roleplay, loss of virginity, sex for money, blindfolding, a lil bit of feelings, pregnant reader, single mom reader, age gap, DBF trope
A/N: This is not a regularly updated series. It’s a collection of smutty one-shots, with a different character and a different reader in every story.
You can read only single chapters (except for the sequels) they are all connected/in the same universe but can be read as a standalone story. Some (side-)characters will reappear in different chapters.
A/N2: Please head the warnings for all chapters. Some kinks are not for everyone.
A/N3: We will see Lloyd and his reader throughout the whole series. They are the center of the story.
I’m your daddy now (1) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)
I’m your daddy now (2) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)
Swaying (Mobster!Ari Levinson x Dance instructor!Reader)
I’m your daddy now (3) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)
Like a virgin (DBF!Bucky Barnes x Virgin!Reader)
Chocolate and roses (Mobster!Sam Wilson x Chocolatier!Reader)
Like a virgin (2) (DBF!Bucky Barnes x Virgin!Reader)
Lawbreaker (Lee Bodecker x Sassy!Reader)
French Kiss (CEO!Nick Fowler x Interpreter!Reader)
Best trade ever (Boss!Steve Rogers x Assistant!Reader)
Wallflower (Rich(Mean)!Loki Laufeyson x Florist!Reader)
Lightning and Thunder (Rich!Thor Odinson x Librarian!Reader)
Every move you make (Jake Jensen x WebCamGirl!Reader)
I’m your daddy now (4) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)
Two for one (August Walker x Pregnant!Reader)
Damage done (Mobster!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader)
Follow the law (Andy Barber x Criminal!Reader)
I’m your daddy now (5) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)
Under protection (Reacher x Witness!Reader)
Instinct (Walter Marshall x Prostitute!Reader)
Skyscraper (Sam Winchester x fem!Reader)
Make you sweat (Lance Tucker x Gymnast!Reader)
Undecided addition
Untitled so far (Tony Stark x ???!Reader)
#bucky barnes#lloyd hansen#dean winchester#sam winchester#andy barber#ari levinson#jake jensen#steve rogers#lance tucker#lee bodecker#walter marshall#Traders of love (lust) masterlist#smut#multifandom#reacher#sam wilson
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shower
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!),smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation kink (he calls us whores, like three times??) shower sex, wall sex (?), age gap, and more..
important: English is not my first language so there will probably be a lot of mistakes but there is nothing to be done, and it is my first time writing smur so don't attack me!!!
characters: dbf!steve rogers x fem!reader
I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! kisses
Steve Rogers was never as obsessed with a person as he was with you. He vividly remembers the first time he saw you, in that red dress begging to be fuckedYou were like a hurricane, bringing chaos and desire to every breath he took. He knew it was wrong, that you were taking him down a dangerous path, because you were his best friend's daughter, but he couldn't resist. With a penetrating gaze and a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts. You involved him in your games, in your dark fantasies that scared and excited him at the same time.And that's how you ended up in this current situation, being fucked in the shower by your father's best friend.
Your parents had gone on a trip to celebrate twenty-five years of marriage, and even though you were 20 and completely capable of taking care of yourself, your father asked Steve to keep an eye on you.
“I've been dying to fuck you ever since I saw you in that tiny red dress, you were practically begging, weren't you whore? That's it, isn't it? You just needed a big fat dick in that cherry.”
His hands tried to hold onto the stall in a failed attempt as Steve frantically thrust into you, you could feel his balls hitting yours against your clit as he pushed harder and harder into you…
your breasts jiggled as you were thrust into you. Steve moaned hoarsely, you felt every vein, every tiny vein inside you, the complete sense, his hands held your waist while the hot water ran between the two of you, giving him more access to fuck you hard... you look over your shoulder with some difficulty and then you see him, his hair was messy, some strands stuck together, his mouth was being pressed because he was biting his lips heavily and at the same time making a face.
“FUCK” he moans loudly, starting to move quickly and forcefully, not giving you time to breathe properly... the butterflies were playing with you, his trembling hand even went towards your clitoris when he started to rub it quickly, giving you spasmsHis mouth opened in a wordless moan. The glans hit the depths of his intimacy, making his lower belly burn. You had no idea how many times you had cumHer body shook violently and Steve watched her cum on his dick.
“Tell me, whose little whore are you?” His hoarse voice echoed through the bathroom along with a loud slap, you just swallowed soundlessly when he started moving again.“Stevee” you moaned when he hit that spot, you were already sore“So it’s here? Hmm?" he asked and you moaned in response.
He growled in his ear before pushing his body onto the bed and starting to thrust making you scream in pleasure “Whaaat? Do not handle it? Weren’t you the one thirsty for cock?” laughed while you whimperedYou moaned in a sob when the older man pushed everything in, squeezing your neck with one hand and making you orgasm again in such a short time.Steve withdraws his member and you let out a sly moan.
He soon bends down watching the abused entrance dripping all his cum.Her swollen clitoris pulsed, her breathing was heavy, her legs were wobbly. When you thought it was finally over, he smiles and then goes back into the hot grip in a brutal way, hearing your surprised scream.
#chris evans#andy barber#andy barber x reader#chris evans x reader#chris evans fanfic#chris evans smut#steve rogers x reader#andy barber smut#steve rogers smut#female reader#cevans#andy barber x female reader#Curtis everret x reader
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the girl next door 15
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.
This lewk but silverfox
You sit in the car, staring through the windshield. All you can hear is your own breath. In, out, in, out. The traffic passes you by, signs blurry, the air foggy despite the crisp sunlight. Headlights blear around you and the big H over the hospital is nothing more than a blue orb in your peripheral.
“Sweetie, please, calm down,” Steve squeezes your arm, stilling you as you rock. You didn’t even realise you were moving. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
You look over at him and blink, lip trembling. This isn’t happening. Your mother’s going to be okay. It’s okay. He keeps saying so.
“We’re here,” he rubs your shoulder then brings his hand up to your cheek, his hand forming a vee around your ear, “I’m here for you.”
Your heart leaps into your throat. Your eyes singe and you sit back, staring ahead as your hand lock around your knees. What are you going to do? The doctors always said your mom would have years left. She’s sick but she has time. You only ever planned to take care of her. Tomorrow was always far away.
“Honey, please,” Steve says more firmly, shaking you, “you’re going to pass out if you don’t slow down. Breathe. Count.”
He slips his hand back to rub your back. Your heart beats wildly and emphasizes your shallow breaths. You nod and gulp, following his numbers as he begins; one, two, three...
When you’ve calm, he taps your thigh lightly.
“Now, sweetie, we’re gonna have to be there for your mom when she’s ready to see us, right? So let’s go.”
You reach to undo your seat belt and let it repel as you sit stalk straight. He gets out and comes around to your side. He opens the door and takes your hands, guiding you out of the car. He walks with you across the lot, his hand a vice around yours. He must be just as afraid as you, the way he’s clinging to you.
The automatic doors open before you and the lobby is a haze of faces and noises. You approach the front desk behind the thick plexiglass and Steve speaks. You only make out your mom’s name. You carry on; down a sterile hall, then onto an elevator, followed by another bright hallway.
You sit in plastic chairs against a wall. Steve keeps a hold on you, his palm sweaty against yours. You peer down at the meeting of your skin. His hand looks ginormous. You wiggle yours and slip free as he reluctantly lets go. You turn your palms up and fold over your lap, holding your head.
You don’t want to be here. You can’t be here. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not. It’s a nightmare. It's a bad dream. It isn’t real.
“Steve Rogers,” a voice calls. You turn your head as Steve stands. A woman in scrubs approaches. “Holly? She’s stable. She’s not awake right now, it’s going to be a few hours.”
“Right,” Steve says as you watch the sideways scene above you, “what was it? What... happened?”
“A... combination of factors. A poor chemical reaction,” the nurse says.
Steve glances over at you, “do you mind if we talk somewhere else?”
The nurse peeks over at you and arches a brow.
“Her daughter,” Steve explains, “she’s... she’s very upset right now.”
“Oh, of course, sir, just step this way,” the woman beckons him over to the nurse’s station and you turn your face down again.
You can’t remember if your mom was drinking. You checked her medicine and it said ‘do not consume with alcohol’. You should’ve reminded her. Why didn’t you say something? You feel your chest filling again. It hurts. It's all your fault.
“Sweetie,” Steve touches your shoulder and you sit up so hard, the chair hits the wall. You look up at him with round eyes, “alright, let’s count again.” He helps you calm, gripping your shoulders as he bends to your level and counts to twenty. “Everything’s fine. Mom’s gonna wake up and she’s going to come home. Nurse says we should hit the caf while we wait. And I don’t disagree. I didn’t get my coffee and we got a long day, right?”
You nod, not sure what you’re agreeing to. He takes your hand again and you stand. He leads you down the hall and back to the elevators. The descent leaves you dizzy. Another hall and another until you enter a large cafeteria that smells like coffee and bacon.
“Right, you sit,” Steve gets you on a rigid plastic chair, “I’ll be right back. Okay? I’m here for you, honey. I'll always be here for you.”
He cups the back of your head and bends to kiss your hair. You don’t react. You just watch the blank tabletop. He walks away, leaving you to float away.
Time skips, like a record under a broken needle, and Steve returns. He has a tray in hand. He puts it down and lifts a cup over the lip to put it in front of you. It steams as a tab hangs over the edge.
“Chamomile, you don’t need any caffeine right now,” he girds.
You put your hands around the hot cardboard. It burns. You keep your palms against it until your eyes water.
“Thanks,” your murmur dully.
“I got you some food, too. You need something.”
He moves a bowl in front of you and the scent of cinnamon draws the room into focus. You look down at the oatmeal as he unwraps a spoon and dips it in. He lets it rest against the side.
“I’m going to take care of you. Mom too,” he crosses his arms on the table and leans in, “you do know that’s all I want? To take care of you both.”
You reach to clumsily stir the oatmeal. Your body feels detached from your brain. Your eyes flick up to Steve as his stare bores into you.
“You’ve worked so hard, sweetie. I see it. I see all you put into being a good daughter. And what do you have for it, huh? I just wanna give you all the nice things you never had.”
You feel as if you might shatter. You understand his words but what he’s saying is a riddle. You look at the bowl and scoop up the oats. He huffs as you take a bite. He stays quiet through several bites.
“Did I... Did I tell you how nice that dress you wore was?” He says.
You look at him, stunned. Dress? You peek down at your loose tee shirt.
“That night I came for dinner. The polka dots,” he smiles and reaches across the table, “it fit you really good.”
You shake your head. Why is he talking about that?
“Too small,” you mutter blankly.
“Was it?” He scoffs, “could’ve fooled me. Well, would you like a new dress?”
You scrunch up your brow, “I don’t... need one.”
“But do you want one?”
You don’t understand.
“And your drawings, you’re very talented. I know I said so before but I just... you’re a very special girl.”
You look around the bright white walls then back to him, “okay? Why are you saying these things?”
He sniffs and tilts his head, “sweetie, you’re totally out of it. What’s going on? You’re acting so strangely.”
You put the spoon down and sit back, hands on the edge of the table, “am I?”
“I didn’t say anything,” he looks genuinely confused. “You’ve been rambling this entire time,” a crease forms over his brow, “talking about your mom and dresses and I don’t know.”
“I have?” You close your eyes and rub your cheeks, “I’m sorry, I... my mom... she’s sick. In the hospital.”
“I know that, sweetie,” Steve says, “I’m right here with you. I think maybe we should get you in to see someone. You’re obviously in shock.”
He must be right. You can’t remember saying anything. You can barely parse out how you got to this table. Something is off.
You sit up, your fingers splayed against your cheeks. You nod, “I’m scared.”
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#the girl next door#drabble#series#au#silverfox au#mcu#marvel#captain america
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sneak peak of the captain's reward part 2, because fuck it there's only like two people online who will see this lmfao.
warnings for non-con, dub-con, daddy!kink, large age gap, dark!Steve Rogers etc. 18+ only, minors dni.
“Yeah? You ever thought you’d get fucked by a cock as big as this?” Steve asks, pulling out and admiring how his huge length is covered in your juices. And your blood, because of course, despite not going as hard as he had last night, he’s made you bleed once more. God, you were such a goddamned baby.
You shake your head, only earning a slap to your face and a menacing look that has you crying out: “No!”
“No, what?” He knows he has a sick gleam in his eyes, because he wants to hear you say it. “
“No, I never thought I’d get fucked by a cock as big as yours!” You cry out, your sentence ending in a piercing scream as he slams into you once more. The teddy – fucking Chester – slips out of your grip because of the force of which you’re being fucked. But Steve won’t have that, he grabs the stuffed animal and shoves it back into your arms, wanting to watch you hold it and cuddle against it. Use your little toy as the only source of solace while your daddy ravaged you.
“That’s right,” Steve says lowly, drinking in the sight of you crying into Chester’s fur, “Cuddle your fucking toy like the little baby you are. Getting fucked by a man more than twice your age,” he licks his lips when your pussy clenches around his cock at his words, “And you like it, you dirty fucking whore. You like how much older I am than you.”
“No, I don’t!” And yet you moan desperately, rutting against him now, clutching at your teddy bear yet at the same time thrusting your hips upwards to meet his animalistic thrusts.
Steve smirks, “Your cunt likes it.”
#steve rogers#just a little excerpt#i've written almost 6k words of this fic btw#it'll be super long and super smutty n sexy#a bit of plot too#the captain's reward#tcr
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[Written and directed by: Phoebe Waller-Bridge]