Tumgik
#nomad!steve
Text
The Lost 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers
Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Tumblr media
“And this is your room,” Muriel stops before a door along the short hallway. “You have a neighbour just across the hall, and two more on the other side of the kitchen.”
You nod. It isn’t an ideal situation. Not one you ever saw yourself in. But survival isn’t built for the fussy. There are many others like you. Those not so lucky, those who are dead. Many who never got the choice of a new home.
You keep your hand on your rolling bag, your other on your canvas knapsack. They’re full of items that aren’t your own. Second-hand clothes acquired from shelters and toiletries given out by the support workers. You’re on your own now.
“Anything else, dear?” Muriel asks to your silence.
“Thank you, Muriel,” you murmur.
She hands you the key and leaves. Before showing you your own space, she took you around those shared by the rest of her boarders. You suppose they’re your roommates now. A kitchen, two bathrooms, a front room with a tattered couch and old tube television. You’ll stick to your own four walls.
You slide the key in the slot, the metal grinding loudly. You hear a throat clear and peer towards the noise. The walls must be thin. You’re still alone. You let yourself into the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You flip the lock back into place before you shove your bags by the wall.
There’s a twin bed with a metal frame, a single night table, and a standing lamp. There’s also a shallow closet. It’s not much but you don’t need more than that. It’s good to have a roof over your head.
You sit on the lumpy mattress and the frame squeaks loudly. You stand up again and pace around. There isn’t too much room. It shouldn’t matter, you won’t need it. You’ll be out working and back to sleep again. You start tomorrow at the convenience shop.
You hear a thump and your head pops up. You can’t help but jump in your shoes. Ever since the city rained down around you, every bump, every sudden noise has you skittish. It’s nothing, only another boarder.
You go to your bag and unbuckle the flap. You pull out a can of beans and the pocket knife in the side pocket. You go back to the bed and sit, another shrill whine from the metal frame. You pull out the can open from the pocket knife and peel back the lid. On the same keychain is a small metal spork you use to scoop out the beans, eating them cold as your stomach growls hungrily.
You eat, bite by bite, staring at the wall, just beside the only window. It isn’t home. You don’t expect one of those. It’s just a place to live. To survive.
🚪
You take your toothbrush and your tube of toothpaste with you to the bathroom down the hall. It’s just across from the other bedroom on that side of the flat. The doorway is dark, beckoning you inside. You flip on the light and shut the door as you enter.
You turn on the tap and set to brushing your teeth. Such a basic and simple task but one you didn’t always have the chance to do. It’s almost soothing to feel the bristles in your mouth. It makes you feel almost normal.
You take your time as the mint flavour sticks to your tongue. You rinse your brush and flick off the excess water, sliding it back into the travel tube and capping the paste. You look at yourself in the mirror, not for long, just to make sure you still recognise you.
You clutch your things in one hand and flick the light off. You open the door and nearly shriek at the shadow waiting in the hall. You waver in the doorway as a tiny wisp escapes your throat. You blink as the dark silhouette stands with arms crossed in the dim hall.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man says gruffly.
He's tall but mostly obscured. His hair wings out around his neck and his shoulders bulge broadly. You feel his eyes boring into you, as he can see through the darkness and you.
You dip your chin and sidle out, keeping your distance as you sidestep along the wall. You should apologise but your voice is buried deep down. You put your hand up in a show of deference.
“You done?” He asks.
You pause and look at the plaster across from you. You nod then turn your back to him completely. He must be the neighbour. You quickly shuffle to your room and hide behind the door. It’s much better than the shelter, you don’t have someone rolling into your sleeping bag, but still, you’re claustrophobic.
You mourn that most. The sense of privacy. Of personal space. Have a place that’s your own with people you know. People you love.
You toss your toothbrush and toothpaste onto the night table and huff as you sit on the bed. You frown and push your head back, trying to soothe the tightness between your shoulders. You blow out, breath rattling as your nose tingles.
You can never go back to Sokovia or how it was. You can only go forward and the road ahead is very lonely.
441 notes · View notes
peachesofteal · 6 months
Text
Floorplan
Tumblr media
Steve Rogers/female reader 2.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Nomad era Steve. Reader and Steve have a baby together, mention of pregnancy. Possessive Steve Rogers. Praise kink. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Orgasm delay/denial. Could be considered toxic. Steve has issues with boundaries. Angst. Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.
Steve Rogers is keeping a secret. 
It’s heavy, heavier than most, this you know without a doubt, because you carry it as well, it’s existence a variable in your life that you never expected, never even imagined, if you’re being honest. 
A variable that ties him to you, indefinitely. For eternity. For better or for worse, without the papers or proof, the only exception being the small infant that sleeps in the room down the hall, while her father has you pinned against the bed, fingers digging into your thighs, splaying your body wide for him to do as he wishes, because you’re so fucking weak.
“Steve.” You hiss, word drawn loud from your mouth when the tip of his tongue works in tandem with his fingers, playing your clit easily, hips eagerly rocking against his face. 
“Pillow, honey. Don’t want to be too loud.” He murmurs a reminder into your cunt, crooking a finger up against that spot, the sweet spot that waits for him inside your body, working you into a mindless haze, building you up closer and closer to an orgasm until you’re panting, curve of your spine shining with a glimmer of sweat. “That’s it, that’s it. Almost there.” He hums, pulling away at the last second to peek up at your face, beard wet with you, absolutely soaked with your arousal. It glistens in the low light of your bedroom, and he smirks before going back to his meal, dotting gentle and slow kisses down the inside of your thigh that make you whisper desperate pleas. 
“Steve, please, don’t-“ Don’t stop. Keep going. Please, please, please. 
“Shhh. I know.” He coos. “Just need to get you ready for me sweetheart, that’s all.” And, if you weren’t so lost in the haze of your pleasure right now, you’d probably have something sharp to say in response. He always does this. Brings you to the edge over, and over, makes you wild for him, ache for him, just so he can pluck your strings perfectly, harmonize your need with his since your mind won’t budge, his possession of your body always tipping you over the cliff and into his arms, every time, without fail. 
Even a sailor lost at sea needs an anchor. 
And he is lost, has been, for some time. Since Bucky. Since Tony. Since he broke everyone out of the raft and went on the run, dipping in and out of towns and cities across the globe. 
That’s how you met him. That’s how you brought him home one night, that turned into two, that turned into more, and more. Your greed, your desire overriding your good sense because he was leaving soon, and he wouldn’t be around, and it’s all just some fun- I can keep a secret, Steve, you don’t have to hide from me. You’re safe with me. We’re not even together, just enjoying each other’s company, yeah?
You never thought you would survive it, loving him. Loving a man who’s not a man at all, who’s lost in the wilderness, who’s relearning everything about himself and the world all at once. Cast out by his country, his own namesake. Living on the run. Living with his band of misfit toys. 
So, you kept it to yourself, even though he didn’t. Even though you heard him whisper it to you in the middle of the night, when he thought you must be asleep. Even though it felt like obsession, possession, both ends burning the midnight oil. You kept it to yourself, kept the smile on your face, kept the swell of your emotions at bay. 
If you don’t love him, it won’t be as bad, when he goes. When they move on. 
Then, Steve Rogers did something he didn’t even know he could do. Something he didn’t intend, he claims, something he was told should be impossible. 
He gave you a baby. 
He gave you a baby, and everything changed. 
You’re just about to spit out something insistent, something needy, as he calls it, when you’re being moved, flipped over to your belly with no warning, the warmth of his chest bleeding across your back. His beard tickles against your ear, mouth pressing sweet kisses to your temple, and you can smell yourself on him, the proof of your weakness for him all over his face. 
“Here we go, good girl. I’ve got you.” The solid weight of his cock lays between you, the spill of his pre come smearing against the inside of your thighs and then inside of you, the heavy, thick head pushing in little by little, your mouth drooping wide on the pillow. 
“Ahh-“ you groan. It bites, the stretch, the sting of it all, and he knows, he loves it, and you do too (even though now you never tell him, because it’s not like before, not like when you weren’t the mother of his child, not like when things were simpler, when you could have walked away, when you weren’t falling down the rabbit hole with a man who has lost his entire identity, his country, his life-)
“God, honey. What a sweet little pussy you have for me, huh?” His teeth find the skin of your neck, below your jaw, and they graze with a nip, light pressure to punctuate his ownership. For me. For me, for me, for me. “Just perfect. My perfect, good girl.” You try to bite back the moan that rises in your throat but it’s impossible, and he’s no fool, the curl of his smile imprints across your skin, cock sawing in and out of your body like you were made for it. 
He says you were, of course. That you were made for him, and for no one else, and he doesn’t care what happens in the next year, or two, or ten. You’ll always be his. He’ll always come back. He’ll always be here. 
“What will you do if… when you go home, to America?”
“I’ll bring you both. Put you up in a place. Or maybe I’ll buy you a house, honey. With a white picket fence and everything. Give you another baby. Give you two more babies.”
“Steve-“
“No, no. Don’t.”
“Steve.” You whine, still mouthing the pillow, fingers tight in the sheets. You clench down around him, unable to keep yourself from barreling towards your orgasm any longer, and he whispers encouragement in your ear, soft praise of how good you feel and how wet and are you going to come for me, honey? You going to give a me a good one? Let me feel you squeezing my cock with it?
Your first orgasm comes with ease. So does your second. 
Your third comes with tears that he laps up across your cheek, as too many words get stuck in your throat. I love you. I hate you. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you to leave. 
It builds, each time he slips inside the house at night, each time you come home from work or errands and he’s sitting on the couch reading a book, or sketching, just waiting for you and Emmaline. It builds and builds, when he’s got you bent over the kitchen table, cheek pressed to the wood, sinking his cock into your body with an unmatched fury, breathing claims of ownership against your skin. Mine, for me. My girls. My baby. 
“Maybe I’ll give you another. Fill you up until you’re overflowing, get you pregnant.” It’s an overload, a killshot straight to your heart, your nervous system, and it engulfs you in fire, your body clenching around his cock involuntarily, like all it wants is to be bred by him, fucked deep with his come until you’re round with his baby, again. And he knows it, knows it too well. Sees the way your eyes shutter, can feel the way your body begs for it. You want to come, and he’ll torture you with it, dragging it out until you’re breaking apart. “Go ahead, tell me honey. Say it, do you want it?” 
“Y-yes, please. Please, daddy.” 
Everything you carry, all the tangles, the snarled mess that exists in your heart for him surges, and his hand sneaks between the mattress and your body to cup your belly, palm warm like a brand. Like it’s always been, now, and before- 
He holds you from behind, hands flush overtop your navel, stroking the roundness of your stomach with longing affection. 
“How’re my girls today?” 
“Tired.” You shift, and he hums in response. You’re about to snap at him about being here in the first place, remind him he can’t just use his key whenever, let himself inside whenever, but his hands drift to the bottom of your belly and lift, robbing you of all the lectures and rebuttals as the pressure on your spine is instantly relieved. 
“That better sweetheart?” 
He’s deep, so deep that it burns, head of his cock punching against your cervix, hitting that spot repeatedly. You gasp, burying your face in the pillow, smothering the shriek of your moans. He’s close, you can tell, you can feel it, the way his muscles start to become rock, the strike of his hips against your ass moving you further up the bed until your neck is craning to the side to avoid the headboard.
“Here it comes honey, lie still, just- just let me- let me give it to you.” It’s a stammered slur being pushed out through a too tense jaw, restraint burning in his muscles, arms cradling you like a precious, rare gem to be coveted, something more important than duty and a shield. 
Later, he’s still in your bed, even though he said he wouldn’t be. 
He’s heavy, and hot, so hot that you don’t need a blanket when he holds you. You find it fascinating, even more curious that your own child runs hotter than normal too, more evidence of the clear truth that both you and Steve are working vigilantly to hide and disguise. 
“You should sleep.” He’s insistent, and your lashes flutter closed with a big breath. 
“You don’t have to stay.” He wants to. He’s stubborn about it. It’s the reason he gave for appearing on your doorstep earlier. 
“Why didn’t you call? I would’ve come sooner.” 
“It’s not like I know where you are these days.” 
“Don’t. Don’t… start this.” 
“She has colic, Steve. There’s not much you’re going to be able to do, we just have to ride it out.” 
“I don’t care. I’m here.” 
He was the one who had managed getting Emmaline to sleep earlier, rocking her in his arms until she settled, sweet little baby finally succumbing to lullaby of sweet dreams in her dad’s arms. 
He’s so good at it, taking care of her, understanding what she needs and when, that you hardly sputtered a protest when he clicked her door shut and pulled you in for a kiss, pushing you into your own bedroom and laying you out on your back, a hand pinning your stomach to the sheets, another gripping your thigh wide for him, his strength forcing your body into a trap, where you were powerless. Stuck.  
“I guess I gotta put both my girls to bed, right? Isn’t that what you needed? Just needed daddy here, honey?”  
“Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll get her, when she gets up.” The fire of his skin makes everything in the room feel heavy, feel heady, and it’s so easy to slip into your imagination to pretend, dream about a world where your relationship wasn’t shattered, where Emmaline’s dad wasn’t just a shadow in the dark half the time he’s in the house, in her life, in yours. 
“You can’t just keep coming here, acting like everything is normal.” You whisper to the ceiling, but he doesn’t respond, just hums into your skin, deaf to your sense, your logic. 
You’re right. You know you are. Why can’t he just see that?
“Steve.” You pick at him. Pushing and pushing, careening closer to a breaking point, an inevitable end when he will sigh with the weight of exasperation, and then ease himself out of bed and disappear into the night. 
“This is the normal, for now.” He says instead, a rebuttal that takes you by surprise, a change in his usual course. Fingers stretch over yours with a yank, pulling you closer into the bend of his body. “But it won’t always be like this. We’ll go home soon.” Home. It sounds nice, but feels like a threat, considering this has been your home for years now, and this was where you were raising Emmaline, and this is where you had settled into life, started a career, put down roots. 
“Steve, I’m already home.” You remind him and he chuckles softly against your brow. 
“Are you?”
483 notes · View notes
georgiapeach30513 · 1 month
Note
Steve Rogers x me 🙋‍♀️ number 32 or 50 please
Oh!! I love this one so much, but...just don't hate me with this.
There Goes My Life
Summary: just one last time
Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, a smidge of dirty talk, creampie, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 1.2K
Series Masterlist
Tumblr media
He sighs as his blue eyes peer at your sleeping form. You never listened. It was too easy for him to get in through your window, and just gaze at you while you sleep. He warned you that there was a target on your back. Especially the moment you left SHIELD. It just didn’t seem right anymore. Not without Steve, and not knowing what you now know.
You look peaceful, which is more than what he can say for himself. Your windows seem smaller now, or maybe it was just because he felt he could never get too close to you. The picture of the two of you still sits beside your bed, and he feels an ache in his chest as you cling to his pillow. By now his scent would have worn off considering how you had your face buried into it.
“Cap, you have a short window. I’ll buy you some more time. Enjoy your girl.”
“Thanks, Sam,” he whispers, leaning over to remove his boots. If he didn’t have this need to hold you and enjoy you while he could, he would tell you how stupid it was to leave your window unlocked. But he also knew why.
You are also painfully aware that Steve had someone watch your place. Everything changed in such a short time. You didn’t think he would be coming back, much less as often as he did.
Removing his suit, he lets the mess of what was Captain America drift into your floor. Fully naked, and for a reason, he lifts the blanket on his side, and slides in. His eyes rake over your beautiful sleeping face. There wasn’t enough time for him to just watch you, but he did it all the same. He missed you so much it hurt. So much that he couldn’t even focus on the task at hand because he was waiting on you to tell him what to do. But this isn’t SHIELD, and you no longer were in his ear.
Your full lashes flutter with his warm breath. Your body sidles up to his even more. He’s so proud of you, even in your sleep you knew it was him. He reaches to pull the pillow from your grasp, wanting you to use him instead when your sleepy eyes blink away the clouds from your vision.
“Steve?”
“Shh,” he whispers, his nose pressing up against yours. Every moment with him is bittersweet because you know he’ll be off somewhere else before you wake up again. Leaving you feeling like everything was only a figment of your imagination.
Your lashes flutter close as you absorb his warmth. His breath. And when his lips press against your trembling ones. “Sugar,” he pleads, but you don’t want to waste time. Each time he visited you felt like it would be the last time, and that killed you inside. “Stop.”
“Steve, just take me. Make me forget that you won’t be here in the morning.”
“You make me feel like the biggest asshole.”
“Language, Captain,” he chuckles on your lips. Hoisting his body to hover over yours. His legs positioned in between your own, and he slides his apart as he sinks lower over you. His silky steel cock, lays over your bare mound, and you shutter at the feeling.
“I really hate that you were privy to that moment.”
“Why’s that?” You tease as he grips his length in one hand and runs it through your slick.
“Because every time I growl out filth in your ears, I want them to be your words only. Because even though you hold your head up high, and you look so regal walking into SHIELD, you’re my dirty little slut.”
“Your dirty little slut wishes that you would just fuck her…ahh,” you gulp as his thick veiny member plunges into your depths. Fully sheathing himself into your wet heat, and his weight settles on yours. It is the best kind of smothering. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you so much,” he grunts as his hips piston in and out of your walls. Pushing and pulling into every bit of you. Molding the two of you together again, and you hope that this was the normal. That you didn’t have to wait months until you got to feel him again. That this was a bad dream, and Steve wasn’t an enemy of the country.
You focus on the way his body cages around yours and how the two of you had so many beautiful plans. Feel only the way his thicker body made you feel so small. The tickle of his beard as he nips along your neck. You swear every part of him got thicker. And it made you more needy for him.
You took every bit of his hard and deep thrusts because your body was made for him. Nobody pulled out the sounds from your lips. There was nobody else you trusted the way you trusted him. In a different world you and Steve would have already been married, and have a baby on the way. He would have given up this fight with the Avengers just to live a normal life.
But those dreams weren’t reality. Now it was a dream that the man you love was becoming so feral with the limited time he had with you. His hands slam on the headboard above you, and his hips stab into you with so much force you start to see stars. This is how he always ended things. He wanted to make sure you almost passed out with pleasure and pressure.
His thrusts make the picture frames rattle on the walls. Your hands cling to his wide hips as you feel yourself start to go blank. Damn this beautiful man. He couldn’t even bear to say goodbye. The solution was to fuck you stupid. Fuck him.
You try and hold on. See the image of Steve gritting his teeth as he forces his orgasm away. Waiting on you to succumb to your exhaustion. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your walls clench down tight around his cock, and he gets a few more ruts into you before ribbons of hot thick cum fill your belly up.
He stutters his movement as he watches your head lull to the side, and he hates himself for doing this. Hates having to be so careful. There is nothing he wants more than to bask in your silky walls all day. He pulls himself out of you, and smiles when you sleepily whimper at the loss of him.
Giving himself just a moment to stare at your gaping cunt leaking of him. “Captain, it’s time. We gotta be careful.”
He leaves you laying there, but covers you back up. Leaving behind the scent of him on your sheets, and the regret that things aren’t different. This had to be the last time. He was putting you into too much danger. Slowly he’d call the eye from watching you. He’d let you go because that’s how much he loved you.
“I’m always careful,” he says, slipping back into his suit.
But this time — he wasn’t…..
Next
Masterlist
Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @harrysthiccthighss @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87
252 notes · View notes
capibuck · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Breakfast 🥞
Thank you! This fanart is dedicate to a wonderful supporter of ko fi ☕
I have open commissions 😊
544 notes · View notes
late-to-the-party-81 · 9 months
Text
Birthday Gifts
Tumblr media
AN: So Alpha Nomad Steve won the birthday ficlet poll. Enjoy the fluff, which also means that this set of stories is officially a series now. Find Need You Now and Surprise, Surprise here.
Beta’d at speed by @indyluckycharlie
Dividers by @firefly-graphics and banner by me
Master list
Series Master list
Summary: It’s Steve’s birthday and you have the perfect gift all ready
Tumblr media
Relationship: Alpha! Nomad Steve and Omega! Reader
Word Count: 2.1k
CW: Breeding Kink, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Lots of kissing, Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy, labour and delivery.
Tumblr media
28th June
“Steve, I’m as big as a house!”
Your Alpha wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your neck and the slightly scarred flesh to be found there.
“A sexy house.”
You playfully slapped his arm and let out an equally playful cry.
“Hey! I’m not gonna disagree with you. That would be dangerous to my health.”
You couldn’t help it. You giggled. Which had probably been his intention.
“Big, strong Captain America, scared of a pregnant Omega?”
He rubbed his bearded face against your neck again, inhaling your scent.
“Only because you’re my Omega.”  
You turned in his arms, your large baby bump - a bump that you now knew did hold twins - getting in your way. Luckily Steve knew what you wanted and ducked his head down to kiss you.
Although you had a few weeks until your due date, the fact that you were carrying twins meant they were probably going to show up sooner, rather than later. But it was Steve’s birthday in a week, and you hoped they’d wait until afterwards - you’d hate to miss his birthday by being in hospital.
Once the shock of being reunited and the reveal of your pregnancy had worn off, Steve had revelled in your situation. His Alpha hindbrain preened at the fact that his Omega was pregnant, and if he’d had voracious appetites before, your rounding belly just made him insatiable. 
When you were too tired to do anything, he just asked you to lie naked in front of him and he’d jack off, praising you, looking at you, covering your bump with his spend, before cleaning you up, and kissing you until you fell asleep in his arms.
However, when you did have the energy, he liked to perch you on top of him, so you could control the depth and speed. His broad hands held your hips, helping you move - grind - until you came. There’d still be the praises though, the electric gaze, and the aftercare.
Steve deepened the kiss, and then suddenly he lifted you up into his arms. You squeaked and clung onto him, and he let out a low growl in response that went straight to your core. You were glad you weren’t feeling tired today.
Tumblr media
July 1st
Your hands held onto the headboard, curling your fingers into the wood as you swivelled your hips.
“Alpha!” You whined as you neared your peak.
“I know, ‘Mega. You can do it, baby. Look so beautiful when you cum. I’ll be right there with you.”
Steve’s right hand dropped from your hip and his thumb delved between your folds, searching out your slick bud and rubbing tight circles over it. The tension in your body snapped like a rubber band and you threw your head back, keening as you trembled above him. His hips thrust up gently under you and you could feel his engorged knot brushing your entrance, and you wished you could take him deep enough to feel it inside you. He groaned with you as you rode out the waves of pleasure, filling you to the brim with his cum. 
As you drew in ragged breaths, your arms shook under the exertion of holding yourself up. Sensing your weariness, Steve helped manoeuvre you so you were lying on your side on the bed. He pressed a kiss to your sweaty brow before darting to the bathroom and coming back with a wet washcloth. He wiped down your face and chest, before gently cleaning you between your legs.
You smiled up at him.
“I must look a complete mess.”
He dropped another kiss on you, this time to your lips and shook his head.
“Nope. I meant what I said - you look beautiful. I don’t think I could want you more, and then I remember that once the babies are here you’ll be a certified MILF.”
You grabbed your pillow and threw it at him, but he easily avoided it.
“Perv!”
He dropped down, facing you, tangling your legs together and dropping an arm over your thickened waist.
“Only for you, Omega. Only for you.”
He kissed you again, deeply this time, and stroked your hair until you fell asleep.
Tumblr media
July 4th
You groaned, and rolled over, an outstretched hand reaching for your phone to check the time. The screen lit up, bathing your face in its glow and mocking you with its answer.
1:17
You let out another groan and shifted, trying to get comfortable. It was Steve’s birthday today and you were determined it was going to be a good one. If only this damn backache would calm down. You closed your eyes and willed your body to relax, which is of course when the twins decided to start up a kicking war with each other, with you caught in the crossfire.
You rubbed your palm over your bump, trying to calm them.
“Quit it, you two.” You kept your voice low, but having an Alpha with enhanced senses means that it didn’t matter how quiet you were. A hair covered arm, corded with muscle came over your bump and pulled you close to the human furnace connected to it.
“They causing you problems, ‘mega?” His voice was roughened from sleep as he pressed his lips to your mating scar.
“Just waltzing around in there.” You suddenly winced and rubbed your hand over your belly again. “Okay, that was a little hard. I’ll be having words with them when they come out. Let’s try and go back to sleep, so we can enjoy your birthday later on.”
You turned your head over your shoulder to give Steve a brief kiss, and then snuggled back against him, pulling the comforter up and hoping the heat from his body would soothe your back ache.
Tumblr media
You woke up a few hours later as the sun started to rise, golden rays finding the gap between the curtains of Steve’s - your - compound apartment. Your back was still killing you and the twins were obviously headbutting your bladder. You were glad that your last scan showed both were head down, but sometimes you couldn’t make it 10 minutes between toilet visits. 
You carefully pulled yourself from bed, noting that the time was only 4:33. At some point Steve had rolled away from you, and the comforter was tangled around his legs. The early morning sun lit up the hairs on his body with a golden sheen and you smiled to yourself, before waddling off to the bathroom at the insistence of your unborn children. By the time you’d finished and washed up, despite still being tired, you were too awake to go back to bed.
You slowly made your way from the bedroom to the small living room cum kitchen of Steve’s compound apartment. You got yourself a glass of water and took two tylenol, hoping to ease your backache. You then moved towards the TV, snagging the throw from the back of the sofa and rolling your birthing ball out from the wall with your foot. Settling down on the bouncy rubber, the throw draped around your shoulders, you switched on the TV, making sure the volume was down low, and started to channel hop. There was bound to be some kind of mind-numbing rubbish on that you could while away the hours with. Then you’d have a nice nap.
Tumblr media
At 7am you were resigned to the fact that you weren’t getting a nap, and you had a sinking feeling that all your plans for today were getting put on hold. 
Normally, Steve would have been up an hour ago, to get in his morning run, but he’d agreed to forego the alarm this morning, accepting your suggestion that he have a lie in. Theoretically you should still be there with him, ready to help him out when awoke, but it appeared that the universe, and your twins, had other plans.
You were walking laps of your living room and trying not to accept the fact that your backache and slight twinges had morphed into the early stages of labour when a painful tightening of your womb caused you to moan out loud. Before the sensation had even fully passed, Steve was by your side, an arm around your back and the other holding your hand. There was a look of panic on his sleepy face.
“Are you okay, baby? What’s going on?”
You raised an eyebrow and swayed from side to side, the movement helping to ease your discomfort.
“Steven Grant Rogers, I’m 35 weeks pregnant with twins. What do you think is happening?”
He looked at you and you looked at him, watching as the realisation hit him. The panic on his face didn’t lessen any. In fact, it seemed to get more intense.
“They’re coming? Now? We need to get you to the med facility!” He dropped your hand and ran back to the bedroom, still talking. You rolled your eyes and restarted your perambulations.
“We need your bag, and the pups’ bag. And my bag. I need to call Buck. And Sam. And Tony…”
He reappeared, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull his sweatpants up the other leg.
“Should I carry you? Or do you want to walk? Maybe we could do both? Oh, and you have to remember to breathe, and…”
“Steve. Alpha. Please shut up.” 
He came to a grinding halt, watching you as you walked around him.
“It’s not that time yet, Steve. I spoke to the doctor about this last week. I need to wait until the contractions are regularly 2-3 minutes apart or until my waters break, whichever happens first. We’ve probably got hours to go yet. Now, relax, will you? Make your phone calls and get the bags near the door, but as the med facility is only on the other side of the compound, I don’t think we need to worry about getting there.”
Steve shook himself from his panicked stupor and moved back to your side, taking your hand and joining you in your circuit of the room.
“How are you so calm, Omega?”
You stopped and tugged on his hand to make him bend down so you could press your lips to his.
“Because I’m built for this, and because I will have the best Alpha by my side, supporting me. And let’s face it, if I’m squeezing your hands later, I’m not going to hurt you.”
The mental image made him laugh and he kissed you back.
“Bring it on, baby. Do your worst.”
Tumblr media
20:05
“I’m never letting you and your knot near me ever again, Rogers! Aaaahhhh!”
You were on your hands and knees on the bed in the medical facility. One of Steve’s hands was trapped under yours - you weren’t letting him go anywhere! - and you were swaying back and forth as another contraction washed through you. 
There was a midwife - Penny, a calming Beta - standing at the end of the bed, keeping an eye on proceedings, although to your mind she’d spent longer placating Steve’s fears than helping you through labour.
“I’m sorry, Omega. But you’re doing so well. And it will all be worth it when the pups are here. It won’t be long now.” He turned and looked behind you, towards Penny. “Will it?”
“No, in fact, Twin A is almost ready to be here, their head is starting to crown.” You turned your own head to look at her and she smiled at you.  “So with this next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can, okay. And Mr Rogers, I need you to hold up that water bottle so Mama can take sips when she wants.”
It was a good thing your mate was a military man, because he didn’t hesitate, and just did what had been asked of him. You didn’t have long to appreciate it, however, as your next contraction hit.
“Here we go,” Penny said, brightly. “Give me a nice big push…
Tumblr media
“What time is it, Steve?” You were exhausted, your eyes heavy and your blinks getting longer and longer. Your Alpha turned away from the window, where he was watching the fireworks explode across the sky. In his arms was a wrapped bundle with a scrunched up nose. An almost matching bundle was in the bassinet next to you. 
Sarah and Joseph, after Steve’s parents.
“Just after 10pm. You should get some rest, Omega mine. I can’t believe how well you did. You made it look easy.”
You gave out a little snort.
“I can assure you, it wasn’t. And I’ll get some rest in a moment. But I need you to come here.” You held out your hand, beckoning him over. With baby Sarah in his arms, he perched on the edge of your bed, the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. You pushed yourself up and pulled him into a kiss.
“Happy Birthday, Steve. I hope you liked your presents.”
“The best presents I could ever wish for, Omega. Thank you.”
Tumblr media
Tag list: @jobean12-blog @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel
294 notes · View notes
labella420 · 6 months
Text
Sanction
Tumblr media
This was inspired by an ask from @biteofcherry. Which one, I can’t quite remember, but this was the end result. These two menaces are going to kill me!
Starring: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader x Lloyd Hansen x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+Only! No minors! D/s dynamics. Masturbation. Use of a sex machine. Multiple orgasms. Punishment. Squirting. Voyeurism. Oral sex. Use of restraints/bondage.
Word count: 1992
Mid fic divider by @firefly-graphics
Tumblr media
Your heart drops when Steve and Lloyd tell you they’d both be out of town for work, and you’d be by yourself for an entire week. You’ve become so accustomed to your life with them it was hard having one away, but both? How were you going to manage?
“Be good,” Steve reminded you before capturing your lips in a kiss, Lloyd following suit right after but adding a quick swat to your ass.
“And don’t forget the rules. No touching yourself while we’re gone.”
“I won’t,” you smile at both your men, drinking in your last looks before they leave. Another quick kiss to both sets of lips and they were gone, the quiet settling in when the door shut behind them. The house becomes bigger when you’re by yourself, so you make a plan to keep busy to stave off the emptiness.
Time flew by the first few days of the week, work kept you busy, and you agreed to go to happy hour with some of the girls. You even went to a new fitness class at the gym, and saved some new recipes to make for your men to welcome them back home. It wasn’t until Wednesday night after you’d FaceTimed with both Steve and Lloyd that the loneliness crept in, the ache palpable as you prepared for another night in your big bed alone.
You blame them, expecting you to be good when they’ve done nothing but tease you since they’ve been gone. But it was the conversations tonight, the husk in their voices when they told you what you’re in for when they get home that pushed you over the edge.
What they don’t know won’t hurt them right?
Reaching into the back of the closet you slide the leather bound box forward and lift the lid to pick your poison. Steve and Lloyd didn’t hide their box of toys because they trust you, and a pang of guilt twists in your gut as your hand brushes over vibrators and dildos of various sizes, but only for a moment. The throb in your cunt was enough to throw rational thought out the window. You needed to cum. Now.
Tumblr media
A strangled moan is torn from your throat as you plunge the silicone pink dildo in and out of your pussy. A steady vibration is focused on your clit thanks to the magic wand in your other hand. You’re thankful you remembered to put towels down since squirting has become standard since your daddies were able to coax your cunt into giving them what they want.
Heady breaths permeate the master bedroom as you hurtle to your next peak, fireworks bursting behind your eyes as your pleasure builds. You’re almost there when a sound causes your movements to cease, the wand dropping to the bed, ruining your orgasm as your heart drops into your stomach.
Steve clears his throat again and you squeak. You’ve been caught, with no idea how long he’s been standing there. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.” He’s gentle but firm, and you slowly blink, finding him with his arms crossed at the foot of the bed, still dressed from head to toe in his captain’s suit.
“Hi Daddy,” you croak, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I… I… missed you.”
Steve’s eyes narrow as he sits on the bed, reaching to switch off the wand, still buzzing by your thigh. He breathes in deeply, blowing out a heavy sigh through his nose.
“I don’t believe you.”
Scrambling to sit up on your knees you reach for him, only to have him pull back from your touch. Blinking back tears, your reach for him again, and this time he moves further away closer to the bedroom door. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
There’s a look in Steve’s eyes you haven’t seen before, and then he speaks the words that cut through you like a knife.
“I’m not mad, just disappointed.”
You’re stunned, tears you were holding back streaming down your cheeks. He’s never been this cold to you, never uttered that dreaded word no matter how big the mistake was you made in the past. He retreats to the closet and you hear rummaging before he reappears holding a box you hadn’t seen before.
“Sit here until I come get you.” He instructs, pointing to the end of the bed. “Not a word, not even a whisper until I say so. Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
You’re not cold but you can’t stop shivering while you sit in silence. You can hear Steve moving around the living room, heavy thumps indicating he might be moving some furniture out of the way. Steve was your soft Daddy, the quieter of the two. His punishments always had elements of softness to them, but this feels different, anticipation fluttering in your belly along with a bit of fear.
“Sweetheart.” His voice steals you from your thoughts. Reaching for his outstretched hand you allow him to pull you to your feet and guide you into the living room where you stop in your tracks. In the center of the room is a table with four leather cuffs connected, and at one end was a contraption with a long arm with a dildo attached to the end.
It’s a fuck machine.
“Don’t act afraid now. You weren’t scared when I found you in the bedroom soaking the sheets. Now up on the table you go.”
Unable to take your eyes off the machine you hesitate, earning you a swat to your behind. “You’re already in enough trouble, doncha think?”
Nodding, you move to lay on top of the table, only to be stopped when Steve grabs your arm. “Not like that. On all fours.”
Crawling onto the table you position yourself on your hands and knees your backside to the machine. One by one Steve secures each cuff to your wrists and ankles, checking that you’re secure and comfortable. Shuffling behind you he adjusts the fuck machine to line up with your slit, the head of the dildo brushing against your drenched petals.
“Don’t you look pretty.” Lloyd’s voice booms though the television speakers, and your head snaps in that direction to see his smug mug on the big screen. “Heard you had quite the evening cupcake!”
Two of Steve’s fingers slide between your spent lips and you keen when his digits rub against your clit, he felt better than any of the toys you used on yourself tonight. Bringing his fingers to his face he pulls them apart, your thick slick keeping them crudely connected.
“Looks like she had a lot of fun.” Steve laments, sucking your cream off his fingers. “Too bad we weren’t invited to the party.”
“Please, I didn’t mean it! I just missed you both so much!” You beg, but it falls on deaf ears, Lloyd’s dark laugh only seals your fate.
“Hope it was worth it cupcake.”
Steve pressed a button on a small remote and the machine whirred to life, the dildo driving into you deep, sliding over that sweet little internal bundle of nerves. You shouldn’t be this needy with the amount of times you’d made yourself cum, but you couldn’t help but be needy when it came to your daddies.
“Feel familiar cupcake?” Lloyd chides. “Was going to surprise you when we got back, but I molded that cock that’s fucking the shit out of you with my own. Taking it like a good whore just like I knew you would.”
Another click of the remote and the speed increases, and the only thing you can do is take it. You’re so wet your essence is overflowing around the toy each time it thrusts inside you. The all too familiar spark is starting to ignite, your mouth hanging open in a silent cry as your peak begins to crest, and it’s that exact moment when everything stops.
“Nooo please…” sobbing as you wiggle your ass to get more of the dildo inside of you. “I need more, please!”
“Ah ah sweetheart,” Steve scolds cupping your cheek tenderly. “I think you’ve cum enough for one night hmm?”
“No no please! Wanna feel you, please!”
“Aww, listen to her beg. How Boring.” Lloyd’s eyes sparkle through the screen. He enjoys watching you writhe. Serves you right, having broken the number one rule they’d given you.
“You wanna feel me?” Steve asks as he slides the zipper down on his tactical pants, reaching through the hole and freeing his cock. “Gonna be a good girl and take it all?”
“Yes, Daddy please!” Steve’s always been the one to crack first, to forgive you for your behavior, so you think you’re out of the woods until he fists your hair to lift your head so he can look upon your face.
“Then say ahhhh.”
He’s down your throat before you’d even registered his words, the deep glugs the only sounds as he repeatedly takes his disapproval out on your throat. Just when you think you can’t take anymore he pulls from your mouth with a “pop,” drool dripping from your lips with each heave of your chest.
“Again.” He commands, reaffirming his grip on your hair, eyes glazing over as he watches his cock disappear down your esophagus. One click and you’re impaled at both ends.
“Just look at you. Stuffed full and dumb.” Lloyd’s lustful tone floats through the speakers, and you know his cock is straining against his pants as he watches Steve take what he wants from your body.
“Good girl, making me feel so good.” Steve howls, chasing his release. He finally stills, his cock twitching, filling your belly with his cum. You take it all, that’s all you can do as the machine behind you fucks you senseless.
You tried, thinking of anything and everything to distract yourself from the blooming heat building inside you. You knew you didn’t have permission, but between Steve finally allowing his darker side to show, being on full display for Lloyd, and the dildo hitting your sweet spot relentlessly you were done. A strangled sob emerges from your abused throat as your cunt releases a flood, your body trembling as you come down from your release exhausted. You can’t keep yourself up, shaking limbs failing, and you collapse to the table.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” You struggle to look in the direction of Lloyd’s voice, but you’re so spent you can’t lift your head. You do softly smile when you feel Steve’s touch, one that disappears when he drags you back up on all fours.
“Sweetheart, since you can’t seem to follow the rules, I’m just going to give you what you want.” Steve tightens the straps of all four limbs before attaching a belt around your waist. You can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but in the end as he finishes tightening all of the straps and loops, you can feel something resting against your clit.
“I’ll be back in about an hour, sweetheart.” Steve whispers into your ear as the fuck machine and wand strapped between your legs come to life. You’re so sensitive it’s almost painful, tears springing to your eyes as you squirm to free yourself from the relentless onslaught of impending pleasure. But there’s nowhere to go.
“Please, I can’t take it! Please!” Your cries fall on deaf ears, Steve placing a gentle kiss to the back of your head before he takes his leave.
The next orgasm hits you quickly, and as it subsides another builds, and you don’t know how you’re going to make it through the next hour until Steve shows you mercy, ending the night with a warm bath and cuddles like he usually does after one of your punishments.
“That’s one cupcake!” Lloyd gleefully exclaims as you wail in response, squirting uncontrollably as an orgasm slams into you like a semi-truck.
“Let’s see how many it takes to get you to pass out.”
Tags: @saiyanprincessswanie @marvelwolf @jennmurawski13 @seitmai @flowerjewels @sultry-rachael @patzammit @late-to-the-party-81 @km-ffluv @winterschildren8 @
385 notes · View notes
fineanddandy · 1 year
Text
Late Summer Treat
A/N: …is my stepdad kink showing? Was stoned out of my mind when this vision came to me and I’m sure it’s been done a hundred times before but, I had to get it out my brain. So here you go, more stepdad Steve for that ass…
Relationship: stepdad!Steve Rogers x black!stepdaughter!reader
Warnings: graphic language, smut driven, outdoor sex, masturbating/mutual masturbation, age gap, stepdad/stepdaughter relations, dubcon, 18+
Tumblr media
You woke up mad early. For no reason at that. And since you were up so early, you were inclined to do something productive with your morning. Up before your mom and step dad somehow, you got ready for your day and cleaned around your room. Uninterrupted for once. No Steve poking around, intruding in your space. No mom asking you to do five other things. Peace and quiet. And the weather was nice enough for you to go layout in the hammock and enjoy a book with your cup of coffee. The autumn breeze blanketed your baked brown skin, comforting you as your eyes skimmed across the pages. But the more you read, the heavier your lids got. You fight them off for only a minute before they win you over, and your book falls onto your chest as you drift off to sleep. A little nap won’t hurt…and the air is so nice…
Before your mom left the house to run errands, she alerted Steve that you were out snoozing in the backyard, and that he should probably wake you up before it gets too hot out. Outside asleep? When did you even get up? He goes to the back screen door to check on you, peering out to find you so cute and relaxed, hammock slightly rocking you beneath the shade of the pecan tree. Book open and face down over your cleavage in your white tank top, still in the boxer shorts you slept in, lookin like his precious little angel. He bets your nipples are hard under those pages, pussy all damp between your spread cocoa brown legs. Picturing himself feeling up your inner thigh as you sleep, Steve presses back a longing whimper, cupping his dick growing in his gym shorts. He’s been missing you, craving you so bad he’s been neglecting your mom a little bit in the bedroom. And she was getting a little pissy about it. If only he could be inside you again, you know, get a little fix then he’ll fall back in line a bit. It’s just hard sometimes to be into her when he’s obsessing over you and your sweet little pussy. So much so he can conjure your taste on his tongue, your cute shouts in his ears, smell your sweat in his nostrils. No one else will do…
The sun is high and hot, even with the breeze flowing through the leaves that cast shadows down on your resting body. Your forehead begins to prickle with sweat and you stir, suddenly feeling a presence at your side. Using the back of your forearm you wipe them away, turning to the figure with blurry eyes.
“Baby girl…,” Steve sweetly calls out to you, wiping a tiny bead of sweat off your brow, “what’re you doing out here sleeping? Should be in bed…” He almost sucks the salty drop off his thumb, but he wipes it away on his shorts.
You’re waking up, completely disoriented. “Oh…didn’t mean to um…I was reading and I guess…” Coming to, you shade your tired eyes from the early afternoon sun. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon. Here, I brought you a treat since it’s getting hot out here.” He holds out an ice cold popsicle for you to take and your dry tongue comes to life. That cherry red popsicle looks so amazing resting in the palm of his massive hand.
“Thanks Steve.” Sitting up some in the hammock you quickly take it from him, grab your book and toss a leg over the side to head back in. But Steve stops you with a fragile hand on your knee.
“Where are you going?” He asks squatting down.
“Inside to cool off? Eat this with AC?” You frown at him all up in your space, gazing at your braless tits sitting in your shirt. Whatever he’s about to do, can you guys do it inside?
“Yeah…maybe if it wasn’t on the fritz,” he lies with a disapproving shake of his head, “waiting on the repair man now but it might be a while. Hence why I came outside. This breeze in the shade is nice.” Steve sits down in the grass, crossing his legs out in front of him as the plastic wrapper crinkles between your finger tips. Great…
“Damn…does mom know?” She won’t be too happy about that. Although the season’s changing, and the days are getting cooler, doesn’t mean the sun isn’t cooking most afternoons.
“She’s out running errands. It’ll be fixed by the time she gets back.” He dismisses with a shrug, stretching out and basking in the light.
Well she’s lucky she’s not here, you shrug, wrapping your lips around the cool red popsicle with a soft hum as you glance down at Steve’s sturdy hairy legs. The sweet Cherry flavor puckers your cheeks and tastebuds, causing you to drool and suck around the softening tip. It was definitely hitting the right spot, cooling your insides as you flutter your eyes close with a soft sigh. Steve, who silently watches from the ground, takes a breath with you, fidgeting a little. You slip the popsicle as far as it can go between your stained puckered lips, slurping and wrapping your tongue all around the ice dissolving in your hot mouth. Tastes so good trickling down your throat, cold to your teeth biting off tiny pieces to suck on. Steve can’t take his eyes off you absent mindlessly enjoying yourself up on that hammock, the way you slip and slide that popsicle through those perfect lips turning a flirty shade of red. God if only that was his dick achy and swollen, his leaky tip damn near poking out the leg of his short shorts. He hesitates on stroking himself, thinking about asking you to do the honors yourself but you look too damn sexy for him to ask you to stop. His breath audibly catches when you lap long, slow licks from the bottom to the top of what remains on the stick, clearing away any cherry dribble before it drops onto your curled fingers. You had to have heard him, and he swears you know he’s watching you by the way you feverishly suck at the frozen ice. But you continue on, relaxing back on your folded arm with a carefree grin as Steve shifts his legs over the soft blades of grass, itching to pull his dick out in the open air.
You can always tell when he’s getting all riled up watching you. It’s in the weight of his breaths, the way he squirms around. From the corner of your eye, you watch your stepdad reach into the pocket of his shorts for some relief, biting his lip and dropping his head back readjusting his fat cock. His dripping wet head peaking out the hem. You inch your lower back over a little, pointing your open legs in his general direction and Steve moans, stuffing his hand into his shorts with a soft cry. At first you keep your head up to the sky, ignoring him pull his shorts down some over his engorged member until he comes spilling out with a small grunt. He can barely see line of your panties, the crease of your pussy, from where he sits and it makes him want to get on his knees and shove his face into your damp crotch. Inhaling your scent into his lungs as he kisses his way to your quivering slit, pumping his cock and wiggling his tongue its way inside your hole throbbing and wet.
He couldn’t hold back. “Fuck baby girl…” Steve gasps spinning the pad of his thumb around his dripping wet slip, toned ass bouncing off the cool grass.
That’s when you drop your devious glint onto him panting and whining, jerking himself off before you licking at your icy treat. “You’re so pathetic Steve.” You tease, cupping a breast and pinching your nipple over your shirt. “Can’t even eat a popsicle in front of you…” you tsk, taking another painful bite away, scooting lower into the seat of the hammock.
“Miss you so bad,” Steve hisses squeezing his fist around his girth with another jerk of his hips, “want your mouth on my cock…”
You hum a teasing chuckle around the popsicle fixed in your mouth, and trace a finger up and down your slit over your shorts. A shudder trembles over his muscles, his lungs shake.
“Jealous?” You smack, popping your lips off the ice. “Wish I was drooling and slurping all around you?”
Steve deviously smiles back at you waving the stick around, tongue red and taunting like a matador’s cape to a raging Bull. He’s so hard, so fuckin horny he can’t stop shaking, hissing and moaning your name. Hand feels so good stroking his veiny skin but he wants it to be you getting him off.
“Yes baby girl you have no fuckin idea!” Steve whimpers out to the branches of the tree where birds sit and sing in the afternoon heat. The wind quietly roars along with him fucking himself, bouncing his dizzy focus on your tender touch and your dark brown eyes. “Need you so bad baby…need you milking daddy’s cock…please baby girl milk my cock…”
Your spine tingles listening to your stepdad beg for you, your pussy absolutely dripping Steve looks so fuckin good spazzing out with his twisted smile, fucking his clenched fist harder. Too busy watching in amazement, your popsicle starts to drip and melt down your fingers pinching the wooden stick. Your shallow breaths in time with his as he gets closer and closer to busting all over his contracting abs. You rub at your folds with three fingers, grinding your hips into the palm of your hand. Eyes locked and jaws hung, you and Steve get off to each other. Writhing, rocking into you vigorous strokes, you guys have never done this before and it’s fuckin hotter than you two imagined. Steve so blistering hard you almost crawl off the swing to bounce on his lap, practically crying he’s so beautiful and you want him so fuckin bad.
“Oh my god Steve,” you desperately mewl, yanking your panties and shorts to the side to shove two fingers deep between your convulsing walls, “wanna see you cum daddy. Wanna see you cum all over yourself.”
“Yeah?” He breathlessly spits into his fingers and spreads it all over his bulbous dickhead, biting back another pitiful whine. “Will that make you cum for me? Huh?” Steve slams his fist faster over his taut burning flesh.
You fuck your self just as hard to keep up, just as close as him to busting all over your curled fingers. “Yes Steve. Yes daddy come on…” you howl, toying with your clit. Steve’s going bizzerk, growling and grunting, cupping his tight balls with his other hand.
“Got such a big load for you baby I can’t fuckin wait another second.” His boisterous moan breaks, he falters as his load rushes up his dick. “God baby cum with meeeee…”
You cough a gasp as you snap, your legs spasming like crazy as Steve’s cum spurts up into the air. He’s groaning like madman, still slowly pumping his hefty load out onto his stomach as your cum drips down your hole and onto the hammock. And swear to god Steve almost put his pouty pink lips right on the wet spot to suck. Carding his fingers through his hair he collapses back onto the ground with a pained laugh, still holding his dick as he shakes his head. Even after how hard he just came, he wanted more of you. It was never enough, and that’s a problem. He still wants to fuck the shit out of you, but he’s gotta see where your mom is first. Oh and act like the AC still needs to be fixed.
You’re so weak, slumped, still catching your breath, to the point that you don’t even care about the sticky mess your hand has become from holding this melting popsicle. Steve jumps to his bare feet, shoving himself back in his shorts with a cute grin, staring at you try to get your wits back in order after such a mind numbing orgasm. Your popsicle is disappearing, and down to its last bite, and it seems like you won’t be eating it any time soon. So, he saunters over to you in a daze, bends over as if he’s going to steal a kiss but instead, eases his pretty little mouth over your messy hand still clutching onto the stick, and seductively steals the last bite. Sucking it right off as he bore his sexy baby blues into your glazed over tired eyes.
“Mmm, so fuckin refreshing…” he purrs, slipping two shaky fingertips around your cum covered slit. “Gonna go inside and check on the AC, see where your mom is,” Steve informs you, playing around in your essence, keeping you on edge, “and if we got time baby girl? I want you to lay down on your bed and I’m gonna fuckin eat and fuck this pussy until you pass the fuck out.”
Whimpering against his lips you nod anxiously, cursing to yourself once he takes his hand away and starts to head back inside. Sticking his fingers covered in your cum in his mouth with a wink. You need to wash up, get ready for his torture. For your sake, you hope your mom doesn’t come back for a few more hours. Steve’s got you aching for him, like always, and you want all the time in the world for your stepdad to use you like his favorite sex toy.
822 notes · View notes
holylulusworld · 9 months
Text
Holidays on the run (2)
Tumblr media
Summary: You and Steve didn’t part ways on good terms. What happens when you end up in the same cabin on Christmas?
Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader
Warnings: language, enemies to ???, cliché tropes, snowed in, banter, angst, mentions of former imprisonment
Divider by @firefly-graphics​
<< Part 1
Tumblr media
“So, how did you spend your free time since the big showdown?” You watch Steve walk back into the living room after he changed into an old shirt and a pair of jeans. “If you refuse to talk to me, this will be a fucking long night.”
“That mouth on you,” he snaps at you. “See, you don’t have manners and show respect to no one.”
“Why should I respect someone betraying his team, friend, and the world? You ran to play hide and seek with your old buddy.”
“I ran as I had no other choice. The moment I decided against signing the accords things went downhill. Ross would’ve never allowed me and the others to come back. Bucky was innocent. He did not kill T'Chaka. It was all Zemo’s doing.”
“Well shit, Cappy,” you chuckle. “Why not explain the situation to Stark, Ross, and the others? If your friend was innocent you could’ve…” You huff. “I guess Tony is pissed because your friend killed his parents.”
“He wasn’t himself back then. They used him like a blunt tool. All the things they did to Bucky…” Steve’s features sadden. “If only I knew he survived the fall. I could’ve…”
“…Done shit.” You shrug. “Did you forget that you landed in the ice to save the world? Bucky would’ve been their tool of destruction either way. How should you have known he survived the fall?”
“Tony will never talk to me again. And Ross, he’ll arrest all of us for worse than insubordination. I cannot give them Bucky’s location. He’s safe and at peace for the first time in over fifty years.”
“Hmm…” you walk toward the window to stare into the darkness. It doesn’t feel right sending Steve away, but at the same time, you don’t want to get involved in another fight. “I was at peace here too, Captain.”
“How can you compare your situation with Bucky’s? He was brainwashed and armed with a new cybernetic arm. For over fifty years, he was forced to eliminate people at Hydra’s order.
“Christ, get a room with your buddy, Rogers,” you grunt. “I didn’t have an easy life after you and your team kicked me out. What did you think would happen to me? Huh?”
“What do you mean?”
You twirl around to glare at Steve. “I got kicked out of the Avengers. No one would hire me. I gave up the chance to work for the FBI and ended up without a job. I had to come here as I had nowhere to turn to.”
“We got no home and no place to stay either. If we had one, I’d offer you a place to stay.”
“Lie.”
“I did not lie,” he grumbles. “You know that.”
“Yeah. But you would hate taking me in.” you give Steve your best bitch face. “Am I right, Captain? You never liked me. Not only my attitude.”
“It was difficult to work with you. We just didn’t…click.” He crosses his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge. “Not like me and Natasha or Sam.”
“We didn’t have to,” you make air quotes, “click.“ You shake your head at your stupidity. It was stupid of you to believe the Avengers saw you as a team member, an equal even. “I get it. You didn’t like me from the beginning and decided to turn me into an outcast.”
“You did this to yourself.”
You’ve got enough. “Fuck you!”
Steve gasps when you unlock the door. “What are you doing?” He watches you open the door, swallowing thickly as you grab his bag to throw it out of the cabin. “Y/N!”
“Get out of my sight and cabin. You’re not welcome here!” You storm toward Steve to wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging hard.
“Y/N, stop. I won’t leave!”
“I don’t give a single fuck if you are homeless at the moment or shit. You want me to respect you? How could I respect a man who never showed compassion when it comes to someone else but his buddies!”
“Y/N…doll,” he sighs. “I’m a drifter in an unknown sea. All my life I wanted to serve and protect people. Now everyone I respected and worked for turned their back on me.”
“Welcome to my world, Captain,” you snap at Steve. “That’s exactly what happened to me thanks to you. If you get sent home for insubordination by Captain America, your life is over.”
“Shit,” he sighs deeply. “I didn’t know my decision affected you in such a manner. All of us believed you’ll find a new team in no time. You’re strong and smart. Just a little too hot-headed.”
“Says the guy starting a war for his buddy.”
“Can I stay for a few days? We could talk about Strange and the things he said. Maybe you’ll see, I’m not the bad guy in this story.”
“No. You’re not the bad guy, but the asshole ruining my career.” You drop your hand from his wrist. “You can stay until the snowstorm is gone.”
Steve watches you walk back toward the door. You slam it shut and turn back around. Tonight, you won’t talk to Steve. You walk past him. 
“Y/N, wait. Listen…I…”
“Save it, Captain. You should have a rest too.”
Tumblr media
“No! I—stop!” Steve breaks through your bedroom door when he hears screams coming from inside your room.
“Y/N! Down…I…” He looks around the room, frowning as your dog jumps onto your bed to nuzzle your cheek. “Doll, are you alright? Did something happen?”
“Go back to your room.” You don’t look at Steve, too ashamed to admit that you are suffering from nightmares almost every night. “Nothing happened.”
“You’re having nightmares.” He steps inside your room. “That’s not nothing.”
You roll your eyes. “What do you want to do about it, Captain? Do you want to sit on the edge of my bed and tell me everything is going to be alright? Cause that won’t work.”
“Why do you have nightmares?”
“That’s none of your fucking business. I told you to go back to your room and leave me alone.”
Cerberus nudges your upper arm. He whines and tries to get your attention. 
“Your dog is a protector.”
“He’s well trained, is all. That’s not rocket science if you know how to treat a dog right. Respect and authority in balance. The dog must respect you and accept your authority. In return, you respect the dog for being the wonderful creature they are.”
Steve watches you pat Cerberus’ head. He wonders if he made a mistake casting you out. Maybe you would’ve been a strong ally. A reliable one, knowing to distinguish a lie from the truth.
“As I said. A good dog,” Steve mumbles. “Can we talk about your nightmares now? You looked like you’re fighting the devil himself in your sleep.”
“Hydra. Or rather the wolf hiding behind Shield’s façade,” you sneer. “What did you think happened to me when I had to leave the Avengers? I tried to work for Shield. Sadly, the first guy I met was Rumlow, and I immediately knew he was a lying son of a bitch.”
“You knew? Why did you not…?” He cocks his head when you turn your head to not look at him. “What happened?”
“I don’t know how he knew…but he knew that I saw through his façade. I ended up in a cell, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.” You shudder as memories of your time with Shield flash up before your eyes. “Rumlow knew what I’m capable of too. They forced me to use my powers when they interrogated people. I tried to resist but… I didn’t stand a chance..”.
You sniffle.
“Hydra knows how to make you compliant,” Steve softly says. He steps further into the room, nearing your bed. “You didn’t lie when you said you feel at peace for the first time.”
“I can’t go out there and risk that Hydra finds me again. I just can’t…” your voice cracks. “Please don’t make me go out there.”
“I won’t.” Steve sits on the edge of your bed. “I promise. If you go out there, I’ll be by your side from now on…”
Tumblr media
Tags in reblog.
152 notes · View notes
stuckyfingers · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
Nomad Steve with eyeliner and peircings
35 notes · View notes
fandoms-writings · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Below is a list of current wips that you can expect from me in the near future <3 I do write slow, but I'm working on these as fast as I can <3
Drabbles/One-shots:
"You're a mess"/"I'm not a mess."/"I can tell you've been crying."  &  "Let me kiss it better" - Knight! Bucky x Queen! Reader - A + F
"Choose me" - Bucky - A
"Choose me" & "let me hear you make that sound again" - Biker! Bucky - A + S
"You were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be wrong about you, but they were right. They were so fucking right." - Bucky w/ morally gray reader - A
"Keep your pretty eyes on me." and "You shouldn't be out here by yourself." -Vampire! Bucky x Human! Reader - A + S + (version 2)
"You know my door is always open for you, right?" and "You're already wet sweetheart." - Bucky w/ kinky virgin reader - F + S
"You know my door is always open for you, right?" and "You're already wet sweetheart" - Stephen Grant - F + S
"Don't go where I can't follow. . . I thought I lost you." - Bucky - A
"Why didn't you say how bad it was?" - Steve Rogers - A
"Come get me? I miss you" - Loki - F
"Is that my shirt?" & "Keep your pretty eyes on me." - Bucky - F + S
"Don't go where I can't follow… I thought I lost you" & "You're exhausted honey. Go back to sleep." - Nomad! Steve Rogers - A + F
"What are we doing?"/"Why are you doing this?" - Miguel O'Hara - A
"Can I hold your hand?" - Miguel O'Hara - F
"You're not as bad as everyone says you are." - Mob! Steve - F
"Will you taste this? Tell me if I'm missing anything?" - dealers choice - F
"You were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be wrong about you, but they were right. They were so fucking right."- Mob! Steve - A
DBF!Bucky x College!Reader - A
Series/AUs:
Boxer! Miguel x PR! Reader - A + F + S
This one will be more of an AU then a series I think, but I'm still working on it.
Miguel's boxing career is starting to pick up, and that means you, as his public relations specialist, are to insure that the people love him. You also make sure he doesn't take any fights he isn't ready for. However, when another boxer by the name of Kron Stone openly challenges Miguel, and Miguel accepts, you have to come to terms that what you know may ruin the trust he has in you.
Mafia-Dilf! Miguel x Dance-teacher! Reader - A + F + S
Everyone was terrified of Miguel O'Hara, the most powerful man in the city. But you knew better. To you, he was just a single dad trying to raise and protect his daughter, bringing her to your dance class every week. That is until someone looking for Miguel shows up at your studio, and Miguel takes it upon himself to protect you from outside forces, showing you just what kind of a man truly he is.
Bucky Barnes x Dream-witch! Reader - A + F + S
Looking for something to aide in his sleepless nights, Bucky searches weeks for you, the dream witch of New York. You're known for helping vets with ptsd have terrorless nights and sometimes, if they're lucky, they actually have pleasant dreams. What Bucky didn't expect, was for you to be so captivating, or for him to open up so easily around you. But to have the powers you do, you've got to be more than just a mutant, right?
Bucky Barnes x single!pregnant!reader (neighbor AU) - A + F + S
This one will be more of an AU rather than a series.
You moved into your small apartment alone and nervous, with a broken heart and a little one on the way, just wanting to be the best mom you can. Lucky for you, your neighbor is the sweetest man in the world and has offered to help you out when you need it. It doesn't hurt that he's the most attractive man you've ever met. But you don't have time for a relationship with anyone, you need to prepare for the baby.
Tumblr media
tagging some mutuals below to spread the word <3
@sweetdreamsbuck @perdidosbucky-yyo @pocolottie @banana-cheese-cake @nexusnyx @foreverindreamlandd @writing-for-marvel @historygeekfics @jessybarnes @poetic-fiasco @redgillan @chloelucia13 @shamevillain @thornsnvultures @targaryenvampireslayer @vibraniumcollar @bucksangel @buckybleu @barnesafterglow @rookthorne @nickfowlerrr @aquariusbarnes @captainsimagines
77 notes · View notes
Text
The Lost 2
Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers
Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.
This one's a bit longer than the intro.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Tumblr media
Your first shift at the store goes well enough. Aziz, the manager, shows you where everything is and goes over the policies. The till is behind a window, a slot just big enough to get products and money through. It’s close to your apartment so not the best part of town. The next day, you’ll be alone.
You head home with a dented can of ginger ale in your bag. Aziz said you could have it for free since half the paint was scraped off during shipping. You don’t drink much soda but it would be a nice treat.
You find yourself dragging your feet as you come onto your street. You’re still getting your bearings but you recognize the boarded up white brick building across from the converted two-storey house. You stare at the faded brown facade of your abode, fumbling with your keys nervously. You still feel so out of place.
You cross the road and climb the steep iron staircase that leads up the side of the house to the second floor. The heavy metal grate that shields the thick wooden door rattles as you open it and clanks behind you loudly despite your efforts to keep quiet. The place feels desolate as you enter. Aside from last night, you haven’t encountered anyone else.
You creep into the kitchen and go to the fridge. On it, there’s a yellow paper with blue ink on it; numbered bullets that you read slowly. ‘House Rules’, the jagged capitals spell out the title above at least a dozen lines. ‘Clean up after yourself; mark your food; no stealing.’ That paper feels very apathetic, suggesting that no one really talks to each other here. Maybe it’s better that way.
You open the fridge and search your bag for your can of ginger ale. You hesitate to put it inside. You have no way of marking it. You consider the remnants of the logo on the side. You could just have it warm.
“There’s a sharpie in the top drawer,” a voice breaks the rigid silence like cracking ice.
You glance over at the man standing in the doorway, the same that leads to your bedroom. You quickly peel away your eyes and nod. You can’t manage a thank you as your surprise has your adrenaline pulsing.
You close the fridge and put the can on the counter. You open a drawer, not much inside besides electric tape and the promised sharpie. You write your initials on the top of the can as the man enters and stops a few feet from you, popping open a cupboard with a harsh click.
You think it must be the same man as the night before. He’s about the same size as the ominous shadow, at least from your periphery glance. You sidle over and pull the fridge open once more, setting your can in the door before you close it gently.
Tension roils around you as the man takes out a large container. It’s unmarked except for the sharpie emblazoned on the white plastic; ‘S’. Just a single letter.
You back away and fix your bag on your shoulder, shuffling around him in the small kitchen. He doesn’t say anything but you can hear his long exhale. It sticks with you how easily he’s snuck up on you twice. You shrug it off as paranoia from the shelter.
You’ll be okay. You have a lock on the door here. You have your own space. A tiny haven in an immense world.
🚪
Your first shift alone isn’t as intimidating as you thought. Most people come in and grab what they need then go. You ring them through with as much friendliness as you can muster. Most don’t respond, some chatter a bit, rambling about a thousand different things, and others even glare at you as they point to the small earbud in their ears. The flow of customers is ebbs and flows, busier around lunchtime and dull after two.
You’re almost done with your hours there. You take the time to bring out the bag of chips Aziz marked for stocking. You sit on the step stool as you set to find the palace for each brand. You put the Cheetos on the shelf as the door chimes and signals the entry of a customer.
You stand and peek over the shelf. You see only a man’s shoulders and the back of his head as he turns his back to you, perusing the wall of magazines. His hair pokes out in shaggy shanks from a ball cap. You grab the folding foot stool and the box and quickly scurry back behind the counter.
You put them down clumsily, a loud clap as the stool falls against the back of the counter. You pull shut the divider behind you and go to the till. You brace the counter as you peer over at the man again but try not to stalk him.
He strides slowly through the store, just along the back wall as he peruses the bottles and cans of cold drinks. He opens a door and takes something out. You look down and review the checklist for your shift. The last thing you need to do is balance the till before the evening shift gets here.
You listen to the man’s steps, flicking your eyes up now and again to keep track of him. You can also see him on the security screen through the black and white lens. You don’t even get a good look at him then as he keeps his chin straight, the beak of his cap effectively hiding his features.
He approaches the counter and you pop your head up. You’re stunned to recognise him. The same man from your flat. Your neighbour. Nameless and mysterious.
“Hey,” he says as he puts his fare on the other side of the plastic barrier.
“Hello,” you eke out. You’re getting used to your own voice again. In this job, you don’t have a choice. “This everything?”
“Mhmm,” the hum is rocky in his throat. 
You grab the two bottles, part of a two for three deal, and scan the premade protein milkshakes one at a time, then the magazine, Time, and a bag of pretzels. Nothing too unusual. His fingertips scratch the coarse hair along his jaw as he clears his throat.
You read out his total and he reaches into his jacket. He pulls out several bills and counts them out before handing them over. You take them and tally his change from the drawer.
“Shouldn’t be working alone,” he comments as he holds his hand out for the change.
You drop the coins into his cupped palm and recoil at his remark.
“Not to scare you,” he tucks the change away.
You shake your head. No, you thought it before but a job’s a job. You scrunch your lips and look around evasively.
“Do you want a bag?” You offer, not knowing how else to respond.
“Please,” he accepts, “and thank you.”
You nod and pull out a bag. You take his items and shove them inside as he watches quietly. You push them through the slot and he takes the handles, pausing as you feel him looking at you.
“When you walk home, avoid Mason Street. Go one up to Doxtator. Safer,” he advises.
You dip your chin, embarrassed. You know you don’t look like much but you can take care of yourself. You have so far.
He leans back on his heel before twisting on his soles. It squeaks with his slow hesitation and he marches to the door. You look up as the chime goes off and he disappears into the street. Only forty minutes to go.
330 notes · View notes
A different kind of Haunted
Summary: You and your friends visit a haunted house, but what you find is not what you expected.
Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!reader (plus-size)
Warnings: 18+content, self-esteem issues/body image issues, stalking, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual sexual acts, mentions of loss (close family members), breeding kink
Word count: 8.6k (I am incapable of writing short things, forgive me)
A/N: This is my submission for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Halloween writing challenge. Bless you for making this challenge open-ended, truly, because I cannot meet deadlines for the life of me. Especially since my inspiration has died in a corner behind my closet and I couldn’t get to its rotting corpse until a few weeks ago. I managed to revive that little shit. It’s... different now but we gotta work with what we got, lol 😂
Anyhow, my prompt was “Your friends dare you to sneak into the old house said to be haunted.” 
I interpreted it in a way that may not be what you expect, but I liked the idea so much and I hope y’all like it too! ☺️
...
You blow out a low sigh, eyes tracking the clowd of your warm breath as it hangs in the cold air around you. Your hands are frozen, cold fingers curling around the edges of the book you're holding.
The end of October came with a harsh drop in temperature and to you it feels like nature decided to skip autumn alltogether to dive headlong into the cold, dark winter months.
If it wasn't for the colourful leaves scattering about the cold ground and floating through the air, driven by freezing winds, you could have sworn it is winter already.
You close the book – a rather lenghty novel you couldn't quite get into – and set it down on the bench next to you. Stretching out your legs in front of you, you supress a ywan and glance at the neatly arranged plants decorating the rectangular grave a few feet away from where you sit.
It had taken a while for you to get the hang of maintaining your parents' grave. Your eyes wander over the small, grey headstone that has their names and the dates of their birth and death etched into it. The latter is the same.
The first couple of months you hadn't done much of anything but sit at the grave and cry your eyes out for hours on end, but as time passed, you slowly gathered the shattered pieces of your being and put them back together in a manner that has you functioning more or less.
You did research on how to maintain graves, took walks around the graveyard to get some inspiration from the numerous other graves and eventually settled into properly taking care of the one that was, and still is, your responsibility.
This is the first time you actually planted some things instead of just putting loose flowers or arrangements on the slightly overgrown grave. It was a tedious task, but you still remember the sense of accomplishment you felt when you looked at the neatly groomed grave, long lasting flowers and greens framing the simple headstone.
The nice lady at the flower shop was really helpful with choosing the correct plants. You got a pretty Christmas Rose, an extraordinary kind with pinkish petals instead of the usual white or green, a pink heather, a plant with little red berries on it – gaultheria, you recall the name the florist told you – and a pretty ivy that had nice white edges instead of being fully green like the normal kind.
It's not overly colourful, but the flowers would survive the winter and make sure the grave doesn't look too bleak during the cold months of the year.
You shake your head, pulling yourself out of the reverie you had fallen into and push to your feet with a grunt, stiff legs wobbly under you. The book is stowed away in your backpack and you walk up to the grave, two fingers sweeping along the headstone.
“See you tomorrow, guys. Love you,” you say quietly, the familiar prick of welling tears promting you to quickly turn away and gaze out at the bench before leaving for the day. You will return tomorrow, as you do every day.
You tredge along the same path you always take, tall trees and bushes lining it on both sides. There's a quiet crack in the underbrush to your left, but you know better than to turn around and check for the source.
The first months you were terrified of walking along the quiet paths alone, jerking at every crack or rustle, but with time you learned that there's many a critter living in the hedges or tall trees growing everywhere on the large graveyard.
Birds, squirrels, bunnies, one or the other stray cat and more than a few moles call the graveyard their home and none of them are very threatening.
You keep walking, feet dragging across the path, fallen leaves crunching under the soles of our thick boots. After about five minutes you near the gate and pass it swiftly, stepping out into the street and leaving the eerie quiet of the graveyard behind.
-
“Guys!” Georgie screeches, wild curls bouncing around her round face as she hops over to the small group of girls standing outside their lecture hall.
The girls turn around to watch their classmate approach. She's holding a piece of paper in one hand, the other is waving at them excitedly. When she stops before them, she's a little out of breath.
“Look what I found! Now we finally have plans for Halloween!” the tall girl exclaims triumphantly and waves the paper in front of their faces. Nika, a short blonde, lets out an irritated huff and snatches the fluttering piece of paper from her friend's hand.
“Gimme that,” she says gruffly, annoyed at Georgie's excitable demeanour. She straightens the slightly crumpled piece of paper out – a flyer – and scans the text printed on the colourful background, obviously Halloween themed.
“A haunted house, really?” Nika snorts and hands the flyer back to Georgie. The tall girl pouts at the other's unenthusiastic response and holds the paper to her chest.
“What? None of you have come up with any good suggestions yet and we're not spending Halloween on Hailee's couch watching horror movies again,” Georgie argues, handing the paper off to Jasmine who is standing next to her.
“Where did you find this, Gigi? I don't think I've heard anyone else talking about this event,” the brunette asks, passing the flyer on to Hailee as you watch on, brows raised and growing increasingly curious about what it says on the flyer.
“The flyer looks real enough, there's even a date on it... Is there a prize or something for doing this? Or is that just one of these haunted houses someone decorated that you can walk through to get spooked?” Hailee ponders, turning the paper over, but finding the back blank.
“I don't know, it doesn't say on the flyer. But whatever it is, I'm sure it beats staying at home and doing nothing. We should go out a little, have fun,” the curly-haired girl shrugs.
“It says to brings warm clothes, snacks and something to sit on,” you state, brows pinching in confusion at the instructions.
“Oh, yeah. Read at the bottom. You're only allowed to go in one at a time. The others have to wait outside. I doubt you guys wanna stand in the cold and freeze your but off. Hence the warm clothes, snacks and something to rest on,” Georgie explains.
You skip to the bottom and read the words confirming what Georgie said. You hum and scan the flyer for the address. When you see it, you make a sound at the back of your throat.
“What is it?” Nika asks, leaning forward to look at the flyer again.
“I know where this is. It's next to the graveyard. The property borders on one side of it, I can see it from where I usually sit. Well, the part of it that peeks over the old fence anyway. That place is old as hell though. I don't know if it's safe to walk around there,” you note.
“If it wasn't safe, then I doubt someone would offer a haunted house tour. For free, too! I guess that means it might not be the most high-quality experience, but we can still have fun,” Georgie says.
“Mh, I suppose so,” Jasmine agrees with a shrug. “I don't have anything better to do anyway. Not planning on going to any of the campus parties, they get out of hand way too quickly. I don't like the rowdy atmosphere.”
“True. We could bring food and drinks. I have an insulated picnic blanket and with a few pillows we could set up camp in front of the house,” Hailee pipes up.
“I have a portable space heater! Don't want to freeze my ass off waiting outside,” Nika adds, still a little reluctant. She doesn't seem too convinced, but if the rest of the group is going to join in on this little venture, she won't say no.
“I can bring my portable speaker. Some music can never hurt,” Georgie says, a wide grin spreading on her face as her friends come around to her idea.
You sigh, still not too sure about this endeavour. The porperty was old, falling apart. And now apparently also 'haunted'.
“Come ooon, don't leave us hanging,” Georgie whines you name. She must've seen undecided expression on your face.
With a roll of your eyes you hand the paper back to her and grumble your agreement.
“Yay! Okay, okay, we'll plan this out later in the group chat yeah? I can make a list of things we need and everyone throws in what they can bring,” the tall girls says, stuffing the flyer back into her bag, already fully entering her planning mode.
You agree together with the other girls, the idea slowly sinking in. You suppose hanging out with your friends is better than holing away in your room to study or binge-watch whatever series catches your attention.
Even if the haunted house turns out to be a fluke, you still have music, food, drinks and your friends. That alone is more than enough for a good time. You'd enjoy it. Getting out of the house will be good for you.
-
The sky is already dark when you arrive. The soft glow of the few interspersed street lights do little to brighten the dark, eerie street.
The graveyard is located in a quieter area of the city, most houses in the close vicinity run down and abadnoned. No one wants to live anywhere near where the dead are buried.
You walk along the asphalt of the sidewalk, the old path uneven with many cracks in it where the roots of old trees broke through or an especially persistent weed fought its way to the surface.
You can already see your friends, hear them too, when you near the property. They already set up camp, so to say, a few lanterns and the space heater placed around the big blanket that sits in the middle of the overgrown lawn that sprawls in front of the wooden porch at the front of the house.
Georgie calls out your name when she sees you entering through the iron-wrought gate, the old thing creaking in its hinges when you push it open with a huff.
“Hey! You're the last. We've already got everything set up. Come one,” the curly-haired girl says cheerily, patting the free space on the blanket next to her.
You walk over and greet the others before plopping down on the blanket with a groan. Your thick puffer jacket swishes and bunches out around your middle when you sit down, the collar moving higher with the shift. You tilt your chin up and adjust the jacket so it doesn't cover half your face.
“That jacket really isn't flattering,” Nika points out with a half smile, not necessarily mean-spirited, but rather honest in an unfiltered way.
You roll your eyes and try to smooth down the puffed out front with little success. You instinctively try to suck in your stomach and straighten your back, but it doesn't change your appearance much.
“Don't be mean, Nika,” Jasmine interjects, sending you an apologetic smile while elbowing the blonde next to her. “Everyone looks a little round in these things, not only...”
Jasmine trails off, but you still hear the unspoken words floating in the air.
'Not only fat people'
Well, she probably would've phrased it a little more flowery, saying something along the lines of solidly build, chunky, curvy, soft, chubby or plump. Basically anything to avoid the word 'fat'.
You don't mind much. People need to get over the stigma that is connected to the word and you know very well you have a few extra pounds to you.
Most of the time it doesn't bother you too much, having taken the time to try your best and grow comfortable with your body the way it is instead of trying to conform to the propaganda society throws at you every waking hour.
But in moments like this, when someone points out your extra bits so blatantly, the old self-consciousness and shame come crawling back out of the hole you buried them in.
“It keeps me warm and it's comfortable,” you say, shrugging non-commitedly and hoping to move on from the topic before more old demons are stirred up inside you.
“That's what matters, practicality over looks,” Hailee says and points up at her knitted cap. It's green and has two eyes attached to it so the hat resembles a frog. You recall her telling you her grandma had knitted it for her when she was a child. It may be quirky, but it it's warm and comfortable.
“True, true,” Georgie says dimissively and then continues talking. “Anyway, now that we're all here, I suggest one of us should take the lead and get that haunted house experience.” She giggles gleefully, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she eyes her friends.
“The first is always the most exciting! The rest of us can can get started on the drinks and plating up the snacks. I'm starving,” Hailee adds, her green eyes glancing over to the pile of both home-made and bought snacks.
“Well, I guess that means you're going first,” Nika teases and nods at Hailee.
“What? Why me? I wanna eat first,” the girl whines. Nika snorts.
“You're the one who just said the first is the most exciting,” she retorts and then chuckles when she sees Hailee stick out her tongue.
“I don't wanna go first, I'm a crybaby. I need someone to tell me what's happening first or I'll pee my pants and die from a heartattack,” Jasmine declares dramatically, causing the rest of the girls to let out a mix of groans and laughter.
“It's just an old house, I doubt whoever organised what's inside put a lot of effort in,” you say and look up at the house looming over your group.
The windows are boarded up, a few of the shutters hanging only off of one hinge. The light blue paint once covering the wooden fassade is flaking off and the porch is almost overrun by wild growing weeds.
It is intimidating in a way, the sheer size of the slowly rotting building and the desolate windows that look like black maws giving it the typical horror movie feel.
“I don't even know if we're really allowed to be here. Maybe this belongs to someone. We could get in trouble for tresspassing,” you add, the thought only now popping into your head, rousing a whole new collection of concerns that start swirling in your head.
“I doubt it belongs to anyone. There aren't any signs and there was no indicator that said to stay away. The gate wasn't looked either,” Georgie says. “I mean, look at this place. I'm sure no one is missing it or would mind a couple of girls having a good time.”
She gestures at their surroundings and the other girls look around, mumbling their agreement.
You look around, too, taking in the wooden fence to your right. You know the graveyard is behind it. The rest of the property is surrounded by an old wire fence that has more holes than one could count. There is an old wooden shed towards the back of the garden on the left side of the house. The door is boarded up and the roof has a hole in it.
You let your gaze drift farther. Beyond the wire fence is a beaten path that leads past the property you and your friends reside on. You can barely make out a crumbling brick building on the other side of the path, this neighbouring building not looking any better than the one you are supposed to set foot in.
“I guess,” you agree reluctantly and shrug. Georgie rolls her eyes.
“I think you should go first, spoilsport. You can see for yourself there's nothing bad going on. Just a haunted house,” Georgie says and wiggles her eyebrows at you. You cross your arms.
“Why don't you go first?” you challenge, but Georgie just cackles and wags her finger at you.
“No, no, my friend. You're not getting out of that one. Come up, get your ass up,” she orders, digging her elbow into your side. You hiss and pull away.
“Fine, whatever,” you huff and heave yourself to your feel. Smoothing down your jacket, you make sure your phone is still in the pocket and straighten up fully. “If I die because some rotten floorboards give away under me, you're paying for my funeral.”
The girls laugh and you feel your lips twitch against your will.
“Just step lightly, you klutz. You're not that heavy,” Jasmine jokes and the small smile you wear quickly turns tense.
“Yeah, I guess not.”
There's a short moment of silence before Hailee pipes up.
“Oh! We should all take a selfie when we're inside. An additional challenge of sorts. Whoever gets the best picture in the creepiest setting wins!”
“Great idea, Hailee,” Georgie agrees and then turns to you. “Go on, we'll be waiting for you. You better get a good picture, too. I wanna make a collage with them so we never forget today.”
She shoos you away and you turn on your heel, waving over your shoulder as you walk towards the house. You almost prefer the house over your friends at the moment. They are nice enough, but some remarks are just needlessly rude. They just never seem to see it the way you do, telling you it was a joke or that you're overreacting.
“Get your crap together, this night is supposed to be fun,” you scold yourself and ascend the rickety stairs of the porch. When you approach the door, you see the same flyer Georgie showed the group a couple of days ago pinned to the brittle wood.
Pushing away any further hesitancy, you push down the handle and open the door. You can hear the girls shouting behind you, wishing you good luck.
You don't turn around, just step forward and let the door slowly swing back into place with a disturbing creak that echoes in the old house.
You take a deep breath and slowly walk forward, looking for any kind of clue that might tell you in which direction to go first. But there's nothing, or at least you don't see anything, so you set off towards the closest room.
It turns out to be a living room. The furniture is old, upholstery rotting and wood hollow from time. The floorboards groan under your feet, scattered paper and debris crunching under your boots. A stiff breeze rattles the windows and the entire house groans eerily.
You swallow hardly. There's nothing actually scary going on yet, no jumpscares or mysterious silhouettes in corners. And still, your fear mounts with every passing minute.
You don't like this anymore and you find yourself longing for some company. Going in alone was stupid. You should've just ignored the rule and went in teams.
Because now you are all allone in an old, creepy house, the rotten smell of decaying wood in the air and your mind playing tricks on you by making every shadow or foreign form out to be a creature waiting to bring your demise.
Whirling around, you quickly walk back out of the living room and enter the hallway you came from. Maybe you should just go back outside and pretend to having finsihed the tour.
You shake your head. They wouldn't buy it, you've barely been in here for five minutes.
As you stand and ponder over your options, still wincing at every unexpected sound or moving shadow, a flicker at the edge of your vision catches your attention.
You pivot and face the set of stairs leading to the first floor. There it is. A weak flicker dances across the wall at the end of the stairs. It's warm and unsteady, reminding you of a candle.
Your gaze sweeps along the other doors that lead away from the hallway and into more unknown rooms, then back to the flicker upstairs.
“Let's just get this over with,” you whisper to yourself, the sound of your voice loud and at odds with the symphony of creaks, groans and clattering that echoes through the house.
You head towards the stairs and start climbing them, one hand firmly on the rail should you slip or the wood give away. If you go upstairs now you'll be done quicker. You'll just have a quick look around, try to find a location for the picture and then leave. Easy peasy.
The stairs grown under your weight and you reach up to wipe your damp forehead, the skin wet from fear and worry. This whole haunted house thing is putting you through the ringer in a way you couldn't have antcipated.
Grumbling at your own silliness, you finally reach the top of the stairs. The light is brighter now and you look down both sides of the hallway. The flickering is coming from your left so you head in that direction, your heart pounding in your chest and a cold sweat breaking out along your back and under your pits.
'Maybe it's just some homeless people,' you think, your sweaty hands clutching at the phone you retrieved from your pocket once you reached the top of the stairs.
'Or a trick from the person who arranged this... It's nothing scary, nothing real. Stay calm.'
Tiptoeing towards the source of the light – a slightly ajar door at the end of the corridor – you try to measure your breaths. Every loud creak your steps cause make you wince.
“This is so stupid,” you breathe out. “Get your shit together.”
The door is right in front of you now and you take a few breaths, hyping yourself up and gathering enough courage to push the door open.
The wooden door moves ever so slightly under the gentle push of your fingertips and to your relief this particular door doesn't screech noisily. In fact, it glides open rather smoothly.
You peek around the wood, hands holding your phone to hard you're almost afraid the screen is gonna crack.
What you see is not at all what you expected.
The room, unlike every other part of the house you saw, is clean. There's no debris or paper littering the floor and the furniture looks old, but well kept. Like someone made the effort to patch it up and keep it in shape so it doesn't rot away like the rest of the furniture in the house.
“What the hell,” you mutter, pushing the door all the way open and straightening up.
A bed comes into view. The metal frame is a little rusty, but the mattress and everything on it looks new. This room lookes like someone's been living in it and while the house's dilaptidation couldn't be hidden entirely, it still looks decent.
The next strange thing are the candles lit everwhere, the source of the flickering you saw from downstairs. They are scattered across the floor around the bed, one candle is placed on each bedside table and a few more are placed on the other surfaces in the room.
Your eyes wander over the bizarre scene and you briefly throw a glance over your shoulder before stepping inside the room.
A window comes into view, embedded into the wall to your left. In front of it stands a wooden chair, a thing cushion placed on the seat. It's placed in a way to makes it seem like whoever put it there sat down on it to look outside. On the window sill sits a pair of binoculars.
Curious, but no less scared, you appraoch the chair and stand behind it to see what view would warrant the binoculars. You bend down a little and peer through the window and out into the dark.
It's hard to see outside, what with the candles inside the room reflecting off the window and the darkness of the night. Fortunately, the moon decided to shine in all it's glory that night, chasing away some of the impenetrable darkness.
“What...” you mumble, eyes honing in on the view.
The window faces the graveyard. It takes you a moment to realise it and when you do, you glance away from the view to look at the binoculars sitting on the sill. What on earth would a person be watching on a graveyard?
You carefully reach for the binoculars, another glance over your shoulder ensuring your solitude before you pick them up. As soon as you lift them from their place, you freeze.
Underneath the pair of clunky binoculars sits a sketch pad. The drawing on the first page is dark, drawn with coal by the looks of it. But that isn't what makes you halt your actions. It's the motive that chills you to the bone.
It's you, sitting on the bench by your parents' grave with a book in hand, your backpack sitting by your feet.
Dropping the binoculars, you hastily scurry away from the window. Your heartbeat picks up again, the organ thundering inside your chest, beating against your ribs frantically.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” you whisper, your sweaty fingers losing their grip on your phone. It clatters to the floor.
“Do you like it?”
You choke on a scream and jump. You heave out a cough and clumsily whirl around, feet twisting beneath you and making you stumble.
“Careful, sweetheart. You're gonna hurt yourself.”
A man steps past the threshold, his frame filling out the doorway as he ducks through and comes closer.
You want to scream, but you're still coughing up your spit, one hand pressed to you heaving chest as you back away from the approaching man.
His features are lit by the flickering candles, his huge body throwing an even bigger shadow against the wall. He raises his hands towards you and you finally manage to choke out a croaky screech.
“Hey, hey! That's not the reaction I was expecting, sweetheart,” the man scolds.
You try to make a run for it, your shaky legs compelling you to run, hide, get away from whoever this man, this stalker is.
Your efforts are quickly put to an end. The hulking giant of a man flings a thick arm out and catches you around the middle, yanking you back and cutting off your escape route.
You start to thrash immediately, your mouth opening to let out another scream. But before the sound can leave your lips and alert your waiting friends, the man's big hand clamps over your lips, sucessfully muffling the sound behind his huge palm.
Using his grip on both your face and midsection, he hauls your wriggling body against his, your back pressed to his broad chest. He meanly digs fingers into your face and you whimper, whipping your head side to side to try and dislodge his painful grip.
“I suggest you calm down, sweetheart. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Can't have you ruining it with your hysterics,” the growls lowly, the sound of his voice rumbling against your back.
You shake helplessly in his arms, tears of pure terror welling in your eyes as you keep thrashing in this stranger's hold. Your breath comes in choppy pants your panic threatens to swallow you hole and you kick your legs out uselessly.
In a short moment of clarity, you lift your legs and drop your entire weight down, hoping to dislodge the tight grip the stranger has on you, but he doesn't budge. Not as much as a grunt comes from him as you let your limp body hang from his arms.
He lets out a chuckle, dark and condescending, and squeezes your middle until you wheeze.
“You gotta try a little harder than that if you want to break my hold. Not that you could, but I suppose it is a valiant effort,” he says, a mocking tone to his voice. His hold loosens around you and you suck in a deep breath now that you ribs are no longer constricted by his iron grip.
“It's not a fair fight, you see,” he continues, shifting his grip from your middle to swiftly gather your wrists in one big hand, bending your arms and holding them still against your chest. “I could hold you down with two of my fingers and you wouldn't be able to get away.”
He twists your around, his hand still holding yours captive against your chest, but his other leaves your mouth in favour of framing your vulnerable neck.
You owlishly blink up at him, your muscles trembling with the adrenaline cursing through them, tears gathering along the rim of your eyes. Your jaw is clenched shut, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Such a scared little bunny,” the man coos, his thumb stroking along the soft skin of your throat. “This isn't quite how I imagined this to go, but we'll make the best of it, hm?”
“What do you want from me?” you burst out, your jaw unclenching long enough to let the question snap out. You tug at your hands and try to take a step back, but the hand at your throat tightens to keep you in place and you sputter, quick to stop your movement.
“It's not about what I want from you, but what I can give you, bunny girl,” he says, shifting his stance slightly. The flames of a few candles close to you light up his face for the first time since he stepped foot inside this room and you see the sick smile stretching his lips behind the thick beard covering the lower half of his face.
Your eyes jump over his features, taking in the beard, the shape of his jaw, his nose and his eyes... His eyes, dark with wide-blown pupils that only leave a sliver of his irises visible. You can't make out their colour in the dim light, but you still recognise him.
A whole new kind of terror sweeps through you and you unwittingly start to pull at your wrists, fighting to escape his grip, his surprisingly strong grip. Not so surprising anymore now.
“Oh, the penny has dropped,” the man snickers, flicking his head to the side briefly to shake a strand of his grown out hair away from his eyes. It used to be short. And his face was always shaven clean.
“You see, being on the run is quite the tiresome task, sweetheart. Moving from one location to the other, avoiding the authorities, hiding in the shadows. It gets lonely, you know.”
He yanks on your arms and tightens his grip on your throat. He walks you towards the bed, pushing until you sink down on it, legs dangling over the side.
“I've been hiding out here for a while now. Months, to be more specific. It's bleak, boring. But I found something to entertain me. A little bunny that hops by my window every day and sits pretty just for my eyes to see.”
He's been watching you. America's hero, fallen from grace and now off the deep end too, has been stalking you, eyes following you when you sat unsuspectingly, visiting your passed parents, seeking out their lost affection, their comforting presence.
You feel sick, the terror knotting in your stomach as you struggle to breathe through the tight grip Steve Rogers has on your throat.
It really isn't a fair faight. He could snap your neck without blinking and you can't even get him to let go of your hands. Hands that he is holding with only one of his.
“You're lonely, too. So alone, no family left now that mommy and daddy are gone. But you're a good daughter, still. Visiting them, taking care of their grave. So good with your hands, sweetheart. The grave looks beautiful with those plants you picked out,” the Soldier croons, looking down at you with an adoring expression that makes you heart drop somewhere in the vicinity of your knees. He really is mad.
“Don't- Don't talk about my parents you freak,” you manage to squeak, a wheezing sound what with your limited ability to breathe.
“Mind your manners, bunny. I don't appreciate being cursed at. I made all this for you, as a surprise. To make our first time special,” Steve grits out, giving you a shove that sends you bouncing against the mattress.
His hands are finally off your body and you use the opportunity to crawl away from him, huddling on the other side of the mattress while catching your breath. Your throat throbs from his harsh grip.
Steve walks over to the door and closes it, then he turns around to face the bed.
“You need me, sweetheart. You just don't know it yet. I can give you everything you need, everything you lost. I lost a lot of things too. We can be good for each other,” he explains, his face shockingly genuine.
You can't believe what you're hearing. This man is bonkers. He lost his mind. You don't even know him outside his famous Soldier persona. He's a wanted war criminal. And yet here he stands, claiming to know you, speaking about whatever delusion he's crafted in that sick head of his.
'A wanted war criminal that has set his sights on me. Just my luck.'
“Don't look at me like that. I'm not gonna hurt you,” Steve declares and then strides over towards the bed. As he moves closer, he smoothly strips off the thick sweater he's wearing, then the black tank top underneath.
You just stare, frozen in shock. Your mind is reeling, muscles locked in a cowering position.
His thick, muscular chest comes into view, a layer of dark hair covering the taut muscle. Imaptiently toeing off his boots, Steve leans on the bed. Once they're off, he fully climbs onto the mattress, the soft material dipping beneath his weight and jostling you from your stupor.
“No!” you shout and launch off the bed, but not fast enough. A strong hand latches around your ankle, dragging your upper body back up on the back and towards him.
“No, no, no! Let me go, HE-”
A harsh slap whips your head to the side. Your ears ring with the force of it, the ceiling swimming before your eyes for a solid thirty seconds before you can focus enough to work through what just happened.
Steve is straddling your thighs, his teeth bared when he reaches the collar of your puffer jacket and rents the fabric down the middle, busting the zipper and tearing the dark material.
You cry out again. The side of your face throbs and Steve's rough handling hurts your arms, but you can't do much to deter him as he rips the jacket down your arms and then pulls it out from under you to discard it on the floor. Your pullover suffers the same fate, your bra swiftly following suit.
You start to cry, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you. Shaky arms try to cover your exposed chest, but the blonde man above you growls, slapping the weak limbs to the side and reaching out to cup the soft flesh in his calloused hands.
“So pretty, bunny,” he groans, kneading your chest and stroking your nipples. The sensitive peaks pebble in the cold air and from his incessant ministrations.
“Stop, stop, please,” you exclaim tearily, hands hitting at his arms and shoulders, your legs kicking aimlessly behind him.
“You'll be crying for me to touch you soon enough,” Steve says gruffly and rises from his perch on your thighs to flip you onto your stomach. He turns around, settling his weight on your lower back until you squeal in pain.
His hands reach for your jeans and he begins to roughly pull them down, taking your panties with them as he shoves them over the curve of your ass, the fabric scratching you roughly in the process. He wrestles your shoes off and in a matter of seconds you're left completely bare beneath his strong body.
Steve's hands crawl across the backs of your thighs, easily dodging you swinging calves, and then moves up to slap your ass, a delighted grunt coming from him when he watches your flesh jiggle.
“What a nice piece of ass. Love me a girl with some extra on her,” he says, greedily squeezing you bum and thighs.
You grimace at his words, a sob lodging in your throat. Your tears overflow as you're groped and prodded like a piece of meat.
“Please, please, let me go,” you quaver, but your pleas fall on deaf ears. Steve is intent on getting from you what he wants and there's no stopping him.
You let out a weak shout when he finally lifts himself off you back and turns you back around to face him. He's swift to push you further onto the bed and away from the edge of the mattress.
Your limbs start to flail, but he wrestles his way between your legs before you have a real chance to get away.
“Not going anywhere, sweet girl. You're mine,” the former hero rasps. He rests a hand next to your head, partially leaning his weight on you as his other reaches down to pull off his own pants and underwear. He kicks both off the bed, all the while pinning you down with just his torso.
You can feel the hot length of him touching your chilled skin. Every inch of his bare body touching yours sends a wretched shiver through you. You want to throw up, scream, cry. And most of all do you want him off of you. You don't want any part of him touching you, you don't want him looking at you, breathing in your face and cooing false promises. You want none of it.
In a last valaint effort you gather all your strength and start to thrash underneath him. You pull your legs up to your chest and kick out, hitting him on the shoulder before he can duck out of the way.
He raises one arm to shield his face and you take the opening, rolling to the side where his arm is no longer caging you in.
A feral growl rips through the burly man's chest as you slip off the bed. He lifts himself to his knees and lauches forward, just catching you elbow in his grip and yanking harshly.
You exclaim and stumble backwards, thrown off-kilter by the sudden pull. Steve doesn't hesitate to use your unsteady stance and brings you back towards the bed, his long arms wrapping securely around your body and dragging you onto the mattress.
“You'll learn to love it, you'll see. This is what you need!” the blond man barks, frustration bleeding into his features at your ongoing struggle.
Discarding any caution or gentleness, Steve wrestles you onto your side and spoons you from behind. His hard body molds against you back, one of his strong legs shoving between yours. He claps one hand over your mouth, muffling your protests. His other arm wraps around your middle, leaving you completely immobilised.
The only sounds audible in the candle-lit room are your heavy breaths and muffled whimpers. Tears still leak out of your eyes, drawing wet paths over your hot face.
“Hush, bunny. You'll enjoy this just as much as I will,” Steve promises gravelly. The arm around your middle shifts, calloused fingers finding your breasts. He pinches and strokes, giving the flesh the occasional squeeze as he explores you to his hearts content.
“You're perfect,” he grumbles, his lips seeking out your bared throat and pressing a chain of wet, prickly kisses to the sensitive skin.
You can do nothing but endure his touch, muscles still trembling but not fighting. You know it's no use. He's too strong, too big and fast. You'll never get away. If you let him, maybe he won't hurt you.
A tingle stirs deep in your belly when Steve gropes down your body, appreciatively squeezing every soft roll and dip along your side before slipping close to your core.
You tense, a loud whimper vibrating against the palm across you mouth. Steve just shushes you and shifts the leg he has lodged between yours, lifting it to open you up to him. Your soft thigh tenses against his firm, sinewy one, trying to force it back down to hide your most intimate parts from him, but it is no use. He's stronger than you.
“No hiding, bunny,” the Soldier grumbles, nipping your throat and making you squeak at the pain.
His hand reaches the curls on your mound, fingers continuing to dip lower until he reaches the petals of your sex. His middle finger seeks out your bundle of nerves with expert precision, lightly pressing on it and chuckling when you twitch against him.
He toys with the botton for a few moments before sliding lower, using his fingers to part your sticky lips and circle your entrance.
You're ashamed at the wetness gathered between your legs. It's not much, but it's there and you cringe at the feeling of the man's fingers dipping into it teasingly. A sad croak fights its way past your lips and Steve pats your pussy playfully, telling you not to be embarassed. It only heightens your shame.
“Your body knows what it needs, sweetheart. Getting slick for me, what a sweet pussy,” he sighs, the earlier tension gone from his voice.
You groan when Steve plunges a finger past your entrance without a warning, wriggling the thick digit around and pulling it out just to add a second one. He fucks you with his fingers, his thumb teasing your clit as he draws out your unwanted pleasure.
The tingle in your belly sparks into a flame and you helplessly wriggle in Steve's arms as the pleasure forced upon you mounts with every stroke of his fingers against you walls.
Small, unwanted sounds spill from you, little pants and whines sounding past the barrier of Steve's hand.
When the man crooks his fingers, shifting your legs further apart before plunging the digits back into your increasingly wet cunt, your back arches with a  squeal. Steve laughs gravelly and does it again, keeping up the motion of his hand.
You moan, tears squeezing past your tightly shut eyes as the wicked man massages your g-spot with unrelenting fingers. The action has you senseless. No one but you has ever managed to find this little place, much less work it with such precision.
Your body tenses, legs thrashing and arms aimlessly waving around while the pleasure mounts dangerously fast, winding your muscles tighter and tighter until you're ready to snap.
Steve rescinds the hand from your mouth, damp palm touching your hand when he gathers the flapping limb in his and intertwines your fingers in a sick gesture of intimacy. But the mounting pleasure inside you has you too distracted to fight it, so you let him hold your hand, your other one clinging to the duvet that is crumpled beneath your bodies.
“Come on, cum for me. I know you want to, your little pussy is squeezing my fingers,” Steve husks, chuckling at your senseless whines and gasps.
His thumb presses against your throbbing clit and with a few more strokes of his fingers, you fall apart.
“Yes! That's it, good girl, keep going,” Steve praises throatily, his hips bucking slightly against you lower back as you tremble in his arms, overcome by the most intense orgasm of your life.
It washes over you in waves and you're left boneless by the time the last of them passes over you. Your chest heaves, sweat dotting your brow.
Your mind is still reeling from the sensations you just experienced at the hands of this madman and you can do nothing but lie there limply when Steve shuffles away from you. You flop onto your back, your trembling thighs pressing together.
They don't stay like that for long, the blond's big hands prying them apart effortlessly. Not that you put up much of a fight.
He kneels between your legs and his hand reaches down to stroke his flushed and angry looking length, a few drops of precum bubbling from the tip.
He groans needily and adjusts his position, lining himself up to your glistening, puffy pussy.
You mewl pathetically, legs kicking weakly at either side of his hips when you feel the head of his cock nudging your folds apart.
“No...” you beg quietly, hands coming up to push at him. Steve wordlessly gathers your wrists in one hand and holds them against his chest. Your palm rests flat against his firm muscle and he leans over you just a bit, his free hand grabbing your thigh just above your knee and opening you up to his view.
He looks at your face when he tilts his hips and slides inside just a bit, marvelling at the scrunched up expression you wear.
He's big and the stretch burns despite his slow pace.
You whine low in your throat, the fingers resting against Steve's chest pushing at him, nails digging into his skin. He hisses at the sting but keeps pressing on.
“It hurts, please. You won't fit,” you cry out at last, hips twisting from side to side to dislodge him. Steve only tsks at your squirming and pulls back a little just to press forward again, inserting another inch into your spasming pussy.
“I'll fit, bunny. Don't you worry,” he grunts, letting go of your thigh to wipe away the tears rolling down your temples.
You grimace when he slides in even deeper, carving out a space for himself in your body, molding you to his shape. When Steve turns his hand to cup your face, you find yourself leaning into it, seeking comfort from the pain, the fear. Too bad that he's the source of it.
With a last jerk of his hips, Steve's entire length disappears into your straining pussy and you exclaim when you feel his hips resting against yours. He lets go of your hands and moves to grab both your legs, pressing them apart and up.
You feel horribly exposed to his hungry gaze, cringing at the way he stares between your legs when he pulls back and pushes back into you.
Every move of his hips forces a strangled sound from you, your chest bouncing with his still rather tame thrusts. He's savouring it, every push and pull through your quivering flesh.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Steve grunts, his groans and pants mingling with your squeaks and wheezes. His face is flushed, plump bottom lip caught between his white teeth.
He lets go of your legs after a few minutes of measured thrusting, dropping his upper body over yours. His cock slides out of you when he shifts and you whimper, your thighs immediately moving to close. But Steve's thick waist is in the way, so you endure the throbbing that pulses between your legs.
Steve settles above you, his hips cradled between your legs, strong arms to either side of your head. He briefly shifts his weight to reach down and line himself up again before pushing back inside with a throaty groan.
“Yes... what a good bunny you are, taking me so well,” he moans, his hot breath washing over your face. His hips move, finding a new rhythm and a new angle, one that has you seeing starts.
“Oh, oh... hngh,” you squeal out, hands reaching up to clutch at Steve's shoulders. “Fuck, oh.”
The man above you grunts his approval, keeping up his motion to hit your spot again and again, the tip of his erection sliding across with with every retreat and advance.
“There you go, doesn't that feel good? I told you I would make you feel good,” he growls, speeding up his thrusts and giving you no respite.
You babble, hands slipping along the Soldier's arms, unable to hold on to anything for long while he fucks you senseless with his sharp, angled thrusts. The fire in your belly ignites again, burning brighter with every stroke.
“Mh, fuck you're gonna make me cum,” Steve pants. His face is scrunched up, mouth hanging open as he revels in the feel of your wet, hot pussy clenching around him.
He leans to the side and reaches down, pressing his fingers along your slipper cunt, seeking out your clit and rubbing it earnestly.
You keen, back arching off the bed. It doesn't take more than a few rubs to make you come, your clit pulsing under his fingerpads as he keeps hammering away at your g-spot.
You let out a loud, gravelly moan, the sound quickly breaking off into a high-pitched whine when your pleasure peaks, a pressure unlike any you've felt before building in your belly and releasing with one last well-placed thrust.
You squirt all over Steve's cock, his pelvis and yours drenched in your cum as you shake pathetically underneath him, you hands slapping the mattress.
“Good fucking girl,” Steve growls, his eyes rolling back in his head when he feels you squirt over him, your walls bearing down on him as you tremble through your orgasm. “Fuck, you're perfect.”
He rescinds his hand from your overstimulated clit and drops down to his underarms above you, his hips bucking desperately against you.
You vaguely feel Steve's cock throb and twitch inside, followed by a primal groan above you.
The big man shakes with the force of his orgasm, unfiltered sounds rumbling from him as he paints your insides with his seed, pulse after pulse of it surging into you.
You moan weakly at the warm sensation of his spend, too tired and fucked out to listen to the alarm bells going off in the back your head at his actions.
Once Steve stops shaking, he lifts his sweaty face and presses a kiss to your forehead.
“You may have lost your family, but we can make a new one together. You will never be alone again, sweetheart. Neither of us will be.”
Your eyes snap open, your sluggish thoughts clearing in seconds as you stare up at the former hero, pinned beneath his thick body after he took you against your will and came inside you without any form of protection.
“You'll make a good mother.”
His eyes meet your wide ones, a wicked smirk curling his mouth.
“No,” you breathe out, hands lifting and pushing at his chest, body squirming desperately to dislodge his cock still nestled inside you.
“Yes,” Steve hisses, snapping his hips against yours and wriggling them from left to right, letting you feel every inch of his rapidly hardening length. He does it again, cutting off the sob rattling in your chest and replacing it with a choked moan.
His hands wipe at your tears and he coos at you, shushing your sad, terrified sobs as he keeps working his hips against yours.
“You'll love it, trust me. I will take such good care of you.”
...
Ooooop, that was quite the wild ride 😆 I wrote this monster in one sitting and I did not proofread a single sentence. I cannot bring myself to care. Y’all are supposed to enjoy the story, not my immaculate spelling, lol 😳 (it’s not immaculate, it really isnt. And don’t get me started on punctuation...)
Anyhow, let me know what you think! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! 🖤
130 notes · View notes
georgiapeach30513 · 9 months
Note
Chris please bring back the long hair I'm begging you please 😭🙏
Wait...what long hair are you talking about?
Exihibit A
Tumblr media
Exhibit B
Tumblr media
Exhibit C
Tumblr media
Exhibit D
Tumblr media
but I have a feeling you mean Exhibit E
Tumblr media
113 notes · View notes
sweetlilbambi-old · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
prince!ari and his lovely little mermaid. ♡
note: my moodboard, but pics are either from pinterest or tumblr! as always, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated! <3
PLEASE DO NOT RECREATE MY MOODBOARDS, I WILL KNOW!
378 notes · View notes
Note
Tumblr media
Surprise, Surprise
AN: It took me a while @navybrat817 but I did something with this little thot you sent me back in June for my birthday. This serves as a follow- up to my kinktober fic Need you now.
Unbeta'd ramblings
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Tumblr media
Relationship: Alpha! Nomad Steve x Omega! Reader
Word Count: 2.5k
CW: Angst, Attempted assault, Misogyny, Mild Violence, Fluff and Feels, implied sexy times.
Tumblr media
Steve leant forward, his weight shifting on to his arms as his hands lay flat against the control panel. It was just a reflex. Getting closer to the view screen wouldn’t change what it was saying, wouldn’t change the fact that he didn’t know where you were.
“I’ve gotta find her, Tony.”
“Chill your boots, Capsicle. She’ll be somewhere.”
Steve ground his teeth, biting back an angry retort.
“I haven’t seen or heard from her in months. She’s overdue her heat. Her apartment is all packed and cleared out. If she’s hurt, or in danger, I’ll never forgive myself.”
A firm hand came down on Steve’s shoulder.
“We’ll find your girl, Stevie. I’m sure Stark and I can put aside our differences long enough.”
There was a derisive snort from Tony’s workstation but Steve chose to ignore it.
“Thanks, Buck. I appreciate it.”
“It’s the least I could do, you know, considering that helping me is what got you into this in the first place.”
Steve gave Bucky a small smile.
“It wasn’t your fault, Buck. Blame the Accords.”
“But they’re rescinded now,” added Tony. “So now we’re a happy family once again, let’s find Cap’s errant Omega, shall we. Then Cyborg and I can go back to ignoring each other.”
Steve sighed and shook his head.
Where could you be?
Tumblr media
You made your way down the busy sidewalk, trying your best not to get jostled by everyone else who seemed to be going in the opposite direction. It was cold and dark out, and you had on your big winter coat, but just the act of going against the flow was getting you all hot and sweaty. You didn’t dare undo it though.
It had been 5 months since you’d last seen Steve, when your one word missive via text had brought him out of hiding for a brief few days during your heat. A few days in which you could forget that he was a wanted man on the run. A nomad. He’d just been Steve. Your mate. Your Alpha.
But it was getting hard now. His scent had almost completely faded from his shirt, the one you currently wore. You were desperate to have the vestiges of him on your skin, not only because you missed him, but for safety.
You may wear a mating scar on your neck, but you barely had any Alpha scent lingering on you, meaning that some Alphas, unmated ones, saw you as fair game. An abandoned mated Omega was just a single Omega in their eyes. You’d already suffered some harassment in the last few weeks, cat calls and the such like, but you needed to keep yourself safe.
You pressed on. It was only another couple of blocks until you got back to your shitty apartment. You missed your old one, but after Steve’s last visit, when clarity had hit you a few weeks later, you knew that for his and your safety you couldn’t stay there. You’d packed up only the most precious of your belongings and hit the road. 
Suddenly someone bumped into you with surprising force and you spun, your bags dropping to the ground, before you inelegantly joined them. You breathed a sigh of relief when you realised you’d landed on your backside. 
You were just reorientating yourself, a part of you frustrated by how everyone was just passing you by, when a shadow fell over you.
“Need a hand?”
You looked up, and saw two men standing over you. The one who’d spoken had his hand out.
You accepted, tentatively, and let out a small gasp as he easily hefted you to your feet. He smiled at you, but there was something off about it, the way it didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“You ought to be careful, omega. Being out here, in the dark, all on your lonesome.”
His friend thrust your belongings into your arms and you gripped them tightly so as not to spill them again. You were feeling uncomfortable and just wanted to get home.
“I’ll be okay. Thank you for stopping to help.” You made to step around them and carry on your way, but the pair shifted, caging you in against the side of the building behind you.
“Never a problem for a pretty omega.” His smile turned into a predatory grin and you tried to school your features and not let your discomfort show.
“Well, thank you again…” You took another step, but neither of them moved.
“We’re you going in such a hurry? Thought we could get to know each other better. Maybe you thank us properly.”
You steeled yourself for the inevitable confrontation and tried to nonchalantly catch the eye of a passer-by. Any passer-by.
“Look. I’m appreciative. But I’ve got to get home to my Alpha.” You tilted your head to show your mating scar, but the man just dropped his head slightly, and scented you. You couldn’t repress the full body shiver such an invasion of privacy the act elicited.
“The thing is, ‘mega, I see the scar, but you barely have any of your alpha scent on you. Makes me think you’ve been abandoned, sweet thing.”
You glared before trying to push your way between them.
“I don’t want any trouble.”
He grabbed your upper arm, jerking you to a halt.
“Then come with us nicely, and you won’t have any.”
“No. I’m not going with you. I owe you no other thanks than what I’ve given. And even if I didn’t have an alpha, which I do, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere with either of you.”
The grip on your arm tightened and you couldn’t stop the small cry of pain you let out.
“Ungrateful, omega bitch. Let’s see if you change your tune when you’ve got a knot in you.”
His friend took hold of your other arm and between them they started to haul you towards the mouth of an alley. You dropped your bags again so you’d have your hands free and dropped your weight to make it harder for them to move you. Also, it was now time to make a scene.
“Get off of me. Let me go, you creeps!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, squirming and twisting their grasp, but in the time you’d been interacting with them, the massive crowds that had been your bane earlier on had now disappeared. 
You turned your head and latched your teeth onto one of the hands holding you, feeling a burst of pride in your chest when you broke the skin and the man cried out. He dropped you as he let go, and you sank to the floor. Your joy was short-lived though when he back-handed you around the face, and you went dizzy from the force of it. Your vision was cloudy as they pulled you back up.
“Just think, sweetheart. We were willing to be nice. Could have made sure you enjoyed it, but now? Now it’s just for us.” He turned to his buddy. “When did omegas get so uppity? Was a time when as an alpha you just had to say jump and omegas would ask how high.”
Your panic was rising, along with the bile in your throat, but then you smelt it.
Smelt him. 
Your salvation. 
For a moment you thought your brain was playing tricks on you, but then your hindbrain started whining excitedly and you knew it was true.
“Let. Her. Go.”
A deep growl sounded from the street end of the alley, and your would-be assailants dropped you and turned at the sound. You caught yourself on your palms, scrapping them on the hard, filthy ground, but you didn’t care.
“Steve!” His blue eyes flicked over you, no doubt checking to see how much you’d been hurt, as he stalked forward towards the two men. 
“How dare you touch my mate. How dare you touch any omega like that.” His voice was unsettlingly calm and you saw the two men look towards each other, a silent conversation about fight or flight. They didn’t make their decision quickly enough though, because suddenly Steve was in front of them, knocking them out with one punch each, then walking past them, already forgotten, as he focused on you.
“Are you okay, baby?” His voice was full of trepidation as he scooped you up against his chest. You rubbed your face into the crook of his neck, covering your skin with his scent and allowing it to calm you.
“‘M okay, Steve. Just lost my stuff.”
You felt his chuckle rumble through your body.
“I’ll get you some more stuff, Omega. Let’s get you home.”
You allowed him to carry you, your fingers curled into the lapels of his brown suede jacket. You inhaled his scent deeply, and realised after a few minutes that you were purring. Steve pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you were sure you could hear him smile.
“Missed you too, sweetheart. Missed you too.”
You didn’t tell him where your apartment was, but you weren’t surprised that he knew. Of course he’d found out, otherwise he wouldn’t have been in this neighbourhood anyway. He let you back on your feet outside your door, and you were glad that you’d put your keys in your pocket and not your bag. You opened the door and walked through, flicking on the light and illuminating your meagre accommodation.
You could tell Steve wasn’t impressed. If the scent of his dissatisfaction wasn’t obvious enough, the way he went around the whole place, scoping out locks on all the windows would have let you know.
“Baby, why are you living here? Why did you leave your old apartment?”
You pulled your lower lip between your teeth. You couldn’t get away with not telling him, so sooner rather than later was obviously the best strategy. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him. You still had your coat on, and with how much heat Steve pumped out, you were starting to sweat within a few seconds.
“I was scared, Steve. And I felt vulnerable. My mind was telling me that I had to go somewhere safe. Somewhere unknown. What if someone had followed you the last time you had visited. Then we…I wouldn’t be safe.”
“You’ve neer felt like that before, Omega. I’ve visited you for your heat there lots of times.”
Laughter bubbled up your throat, and you shook your head, a wry smile on your face.
“Yeah, but last time was sort of different.”
Steve looked down at you, confusion on his face, as you stepped away from him and unzipped your coat, pulling it off and tossing it aside. 
Your mate looked at you. 
Frozen still. 
Mouth agape. 
Then he dropped to his knees in front of you, wrapped his arm around your thickened waist and pressed his cheek to your swollen belly, which was barely covered by his worn black t-shirt. You let him have a moment, and just ran your fingers through his dirty blonde locks, humming gently and letting out a soothing scent.
When he pulled his face away and sat back on his heels he was looking up at you in awe. His eyes were red rimmed and you could see the tracks of a few silent tears on his pinked cheeks.
“You’re having my pup?”
You smiled at him and put out your hand to pull him up.
“Yes, silly. Although, I have a feeling it might be pups. Two.”
Steve stood, only to stagger a few feet to your worn sofa, before dropping down into it and pulling you with him to sit across his lap. One of his arms was around your back, supporting you, and the other lay across your stomach, long fingers splayed over your bump. He gave you a soft, lingering kiss, before pulling back and shaking his head, still in disbelief.
“You’re having my pups. Pups. You. Me.”
You couldn’t help but giggle at him, how shocked he was by it all.
“Well, that’s generally what happens when an Alpha and an Omega love each other very much and have a special cuddle…oww!”
You let out a cry as Steve playfully nipped at your neck, just above your mating scar, before running his tongue over it.
“Okay, just stop teasing me, baby. It’s a shock, alright? I knew it was a possibility, but I just didn’t think it would happen. Not yet.”
“Steve, it’s not like we were doing anything to prevent it.”
“I know, I know. It’s just…it’s just part of me thought it wouldn’t happen until we were properly together again.”
Your heart sunk in your chest, as he reminded you of the current state of your relationship.
Resting your head on his shoulder, you resumed toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“When do you have to go?”
“Well, I was thinking that we’d stay here tonight, then pack you up and move you to the compound tomorrow.”
You sat back up with a start.
“What? Compound? What do you mean?”
“Well, now I’m back, I have a big apartment at the Compound, and if you’re there with me, then we can get you the best medical care and…”
You scrabbled off his lap, chest suddenly tight.
“Back? You’re back? When? How? I’m…oh my god, I can’t breathe.”
You sank to the floor, leaning over and dragging air into your lungs. Steve knelt down beside you rubbing your back, letting his scent flow in an effort to soothe you.
“My turn to shock you, ey, Omega?”
You nodded, still unable to speak and feeling a prickling in your eyes.
“I don’t know how you missed it, but the Accords were rescinded. I mean I still gotta have a long ass meeting with some high up folk, but I’m no longer a wanted man. Tony and I have even made tentative steps to get our friendship back on track. Brought Bucky back with me too.”
You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his, uncaring at the tears rolling down your face.
“You’re back, you’re back. Oh god. And I’m having your pups and I can move out of this shitty apartment. Pinch me, I’m dreaming.”
Steve chuckled, and then for the second time in as many hours scooped you up into his arms.
“How about you show me where you sleep in this awful place, and I’ll bite your neck instead, Omega…”
His words were almost a growl as he rubbed his face up against yours, and you felt heat suffuse your body.”
“I’d like that very much, Alpha…”
Tumblr media
Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @talia-rumlow
478 notes · View notes
labella420 · 1 year
Text
Forged
Tumblr media
A/N: What can I say? I was in a slutty mood today… 😬
Starring: Dark!Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+Only. SMUT. Unprotected Sex. Oral Sex. Creampie. Cuckolding. Non-Con/Dub-Con. Read at your own risk.
Word Count: 837
Divider by: @firefly-graphics
Tumblr media
Goosebumps pepper your skin as a light wind plays through the trees, the remnants of dinner long forgotten on the ground.
The cool air feels amazing against the sensitive peaks of your nipples, the heat from the fire no match for the inferno blooming deep within your core.
Steve’s hands imprint your skin, black and blue already starting to color your body like a crude canvas. He’s marking you, you’ll be feeling the roadmap of his fingertips for days.
He spears into you from below, a firm hand wrapped around your throat as he holds you in place on his cock reverse cowgirl. He’s pulled so many orgasms from you you’ve lost count, so deep into sub space the only thing you can focus on is pleasure. His, yours, all other conscious thoughts are gone.
Your head falls back against his shoulder, your lips curving around his thumb instantly when he puts it inside your mouth. A shudder rips through your body when his lips kiss your earlobe and the fingers of his free hand stroke your engorged clit.
“Come for me again sweetheart. Milk my cock until my cream is spilling from your messy lips.”
Your cries rise with the fire’s flames, the crackle and popping the soundtrack of passion that’s unfolding in this clearing in the woods.
But everything isn’t all it seems.
Steve’s brows furrow with annoyance as a muffled grunt rips his attention away from the way your cunt is convulsing around his cock. Staring through the flames he locks eyes with the man bound, gagged, naked and propped up against a log. A front row seat to tonight’s show where you’re the star.
“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up.” Steve holds you in place while his hips punch upwards, the sound of your whimpers sweet as his fat head kisses your cervix. You put up a pathetic fight when the former golden boy, savior of the world Captain America crashed your camping trip. Your kind heart offered him the rest of your dinner that was simmering on the fire, as surely a man on the run had to have been starving. He was, just not for anything that could be whipped up and thrown into a pot.
Your husband strains against the ties that bind him, to no avail, the expert knots from the Nomad keeping him in his place. So many emotions are reading off of the man you married, sadness and desire dueling each other as tears fall from his eyes, his cock rock hard as pre-cum trickles from his slit.
Steve grabs your face in his hand, forcing you to keep eye contact with the one who’s diamond you wear on the fourth finger of your left hand. “Look at him sweetheart. Look how hard you make him. Even he can see that my cock looks good deep inside you.”
Wrapping one of his arms around your waist he hoists you up, depositing you on your knees in front of your husband. It’s hard to look at him. He’s seen things, heard sounds he’s never been able to pull from you. Your palms lay flat against his thighs while Steve pummels into you from behind, fisting your locks and keeping your head steady so your face lines up with the other man’s cock.
“What do you say sweetheart? Let’s give your cuck of a husband a treat huh?”
Your lips part, and your tongue snakes out giving your husband a few kitten licks before Steve’s pushes your head forward forcing you to take him down your throat. “See, I knew you could do better than that,” he chuckles darkly, relishing in the way you gag when your nose brushes against his pubic bone.
Familiar embers are building within as you’re being spitroasted between the man you love and the man who’s finally fucking you the way you deserve to be. Steve’s getting close to his end with each slap of his hips against your ass, every bounce shoving your husband’s cock deeper down your throat.
“Give me one more, sweetheart. One more before I coat your guts with my cream.”
Moaning around the cock in your mouth your break for the final time, Steve cursing from behind when your walls grip his cock, sucking him in deep. With a growl he unleashes his seed, fulfilling his promise of painting your insides white. Your husband follows soon after, shooting thick ropes of cum into your belly, the excess spilling down your chin.
Pulling from you with a plop Steve admires your overworked and overstimulated body as it drips with spunk from both ends. With a flick of his pocket knife he cuts the ropes wrapped around your husband before tucking himself back in his pants.
“I’m sure I’ll see you both again,” he smirks, bending down to speak to your husband, leaving him with words of warning before disappearing into the darkness from which he came.
“Remember, she may be your wife, but she’s my whore.”
Tags: @wayward-blonde @biteofcherry @saiyanprincessswanie @jennmurawski13-writes @marvelwolf @flowerjewels @emerald-evans @patzammit @hamiltonofjakku @late-to-the-party-81 @missvelvetsstuff @isysen @seitmai @forever-until-theend @christhickevans @km-ffluv @peakwak @buckets-and-trees
426 notes · View notes