#nomad!steve rogers x black!reader

[megamindsecretlair]

Room 1918

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Dominance, breeding kink, unprotective p in v, fingering fem receiving, biting, cum play, blow job, and dirty talk.

Word Count: 3,569k

Summary: After the troubling events of Civil War, Steve is constantly on the move. But even a super soldier has needs. He just so happened to fall for your charms and you promptly fell into an arrangement. At each hotel you meet at, you reserve Room 1918 and wait for him.

A/N: What can I say, I'm toasted and feral AF for Nomad Steve and just kept writing. Apologies in advance if I missed warnings or offend anyone.Not beta'd or proofread all that well, it's almost 5am for me. LOL. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!

He’s late. You pace back and forth in front of the window, peeking out every so often. You bite your lip as you think about all the reasons he could be late. The feds caught up to him, he was killed, or some emergency. You think about turning on the TV but the thought of seeing his face plastered on the news makes you sick. 

In between your worries, you’re also excited. Your skin iss sensitive already. You anticipate all the wicked things Steve will do to you tonight. You blow out a breath and look out of the window one more time. 

A knock on the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you cross the dark navy carpet towards the door. You look through the peephole and see a familiar bearded figure with a cap on his head. Still, per his instructions anyway, you call out, “Who’s there?” 

“It’s me,” his deep voice rumbles from the other side. You smile and open the door. Steve stands before you in dark jeans, gray shirt, and a black hoodie. His cap is pulled low over his brow and his beard is growing out. He has a full and proper beard this time, most likely to fool security cameras.

You lean your head on the hotel door and just drink him in. Even in casual clothes, he looks every inch the super soldier you know him to be. Your cheeks warm as you objectify him. His broad shoulders barely fit through the frame as he walks in. 

He pushes past you smelling like sandalwood and soap and man. He is at least a foot taller. He towers over you. He sniffs at you as he brushes past looking down and looking you over. 

You’re wearing a baby pink robe with black trimming. The bottom slightly flared to accommodate your wide hips and it was trimmed in faux mink. It contrasted perfectly with your russet skin. The dim hotel lights make your skin glow and you hope the glitter was showing. But the dark look in his blue eyes let you know that it didn’t matter. He is devouring you in one look. 

“You are a treasure,” he says. 

You giggle softly and close the door behind him. You lock the door and stand before him and let him look his fill.

He takes off his cap and throws it onto the mahogany dresser. His hair is darker, the blond more akin to brown now. His hair is longer too, runaway strands landing into his pretty face. 

“You broke our rule,” he grumbles. His brows draw down, scowling at you.

“Which one?” 

“I could see you from the parking lot, looking out of the window. You can’t do that. If someone catches you…”

“They won’t. No one knows about us. We’ve been careful,” you say. You approach him until you are chest to chest. 

“All the same. Don’t look out of the window. Someone could see, or someone could harm you. These windows aren’t that effective.”

You roll your eyes. You did not wait a whole fucking month to hear a lecture about safety and evasion tips. All you had were stolen moments. One day of being in his arms. The other days, there was no communication. Full and total blackout. You anxiously awaited news that he was captured or killed. Until the next time he hit up your email. 

You set up a joint email account and communicated via the draft folder. He’d send you a city and you’d book a flight. Since you worked for yourself, there was no one to answer to but yourself. Your friends and family just thought you liked to travel. They called you lucky.

You were dating a ghost. And every day he was on the run, was another day you could never be together. And it hurt. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He asks. 

“I promise I won’t look out of the window next time,” you say. 

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” His voice pitches lower and he scowls even further at you. He spoke slowly as if you hadn’t heard him the first time. A tingle shoots up your legs. 

“Yes, I did,” you say. You raise your eyebrow at him.

Steve sighs and rubs his beard. “I’m not in the mood,” he says. 

You coo and closed the remaining distance, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “I can fix that,” you say. You trail your hands lower, moving your hands over his jeans. A noticeable bulge grows under your exploring hands and you rub him over his jeans.

Steve grabs your wandering hands in one hand and narrows his eyes at you. His blue eyes are scalding. You would’ve flinched if it didn’t just turn you on. The Steve that stayed hidden away was swimming to the surface. The side of him that he kept hidden was there. 

“I said I’m not in the mood. You’re taking dangerous risks. I won’t risk you,” he says. 

“It’s not dangerous, Steve. I promise. I just…I miss you so fuckin’ much,” you say. 

“That doesn’t mean you can put yourself at risk. You know you belong to me. What would I do without these days I get to see you?” He asks.

He’s right of course, the arrogant prick. “I won’t do anything to risk that, Steve,” you say. An attitude creeps into your tone and you know the moment you fucked up. His eyebrows shoot up at the same time his hands squeezes yours. 

“Just for that, you don’t get your treat tonight. You’ll have to wait another month,” he says.

“Oh come on,” you whine. You know you sound annoying and you hated it. 

“Keep it up, I’ll make it two months.”

“Steve, please,” you say. You pout, sticking out your bottom lip and rounding your eyes. 

“Three months,” he says. His jaw clenches as he stares you down.

“Please Steve, I won’t make it that long,” you plead. 

“I don’t care.” He grabbs your jaw, squeezing your rounded face until your lips pucker. “I told you that I’m not in the mood. Get your ass on the bed, now,” he growls so close to your face that his breath fans over it. He pushes you away until you stumble back a bit.

You manage to lick your lips. Something bad happened today. It was either a close call or he failed to help someone. That whole other side was begging to be pushed. He thought he needed total obedience, but he needed to get worked up more. To push past that barrier and consume you body and soul. 

“Let me make it up to you,” you say. You approach him and slid to the floor to get on your knees. You move closer on your knees. You reach up for his jeans and unbuckle his belt. You tug it through the metal loop. As you work to free him, you keep your eyes on him. He’s so tall, he might as well be a giant. Especially while you were on your knees.

The mink at the bottom of your robe tickles your legs and only works to make your skin hyperaware. The hold the man had on you was like being drunk. Total loss of your control. Your head is fuzzy and you sway. And you overall feel so damn horny, you were nearly combusting.

“Let me earn back my months,” you say.

You palm him and he sighs. His eyes flutter closed as you work him up and down softly. Your hand glides over his velvety soft dick. The serum really increased everything about him. His thick length intimidates you. You’ve sucked him off before but every time required a pep talk.

You lick the head of his dick, painting your tongue with his precum. You swallow the head and lick back and forth over the tip. A groan leaves Steve as he throws his head back. You take him in further, swallowing him down. His hips jerk forward and he digs his hands into your hair.

He places his palm on your scalp and grabs your hair at the roots. He soon takes over, fucking your mouth as if you were nothing more than a hole to be used. He sets the rhythm and the pace, bouncing you up and down. You look at him as you hollow out your cheeks. 

Steve’s dick hits the back of your throat, causing you to choke a bit. Steve groans hearing your whimpers and moans and quiet pleas. Still, he is relentless. Your jaw hurts and tears gather in your eyes.

“That’s my dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says. “Suck that dick, baby.” His whispered commands make your pussy clench with vicious need. His balls slap your chin. He reaches down with his other hand to pull on your dark left nipple. It was his favorite nipple for some reason. Probably because it was slightly bigger than the right and you swore it was more sensitive. Every time he pinched you, it sent a straight shot of desire to your pussy. 

Your whimpers increase, creating a sexy symphony of carnal sounds. His harsh breaths mingle with your crying and soon he’s groaning. “Fuck, this mouth is gorgeous,” he moans.

Steve abruptly pulls out of your mouth with a growl. He grabs your arms and lifts you to your feet. He leans in and licks the tears off your cheek. Then he’s kissing you, stroking his tongue against yours. He grabs your face and moves you backward until your legs are hitting the bed.

“You’re gonna take this cum inside of you,” he say.

“Yes, Steve,” you huff. You rotate your jaw to get some feeling back into it. 

“You only earned one month back,” he say.

You open your mouth to speak but Steve’s eyes burns holy retribution. He finally snaps. He pushes you onto the bed. You hop once. He stares down at you and rubs his beard. You got the sense that he was trying to figure out the best way to attack you. 

He glares at you as he strips. His shirt and hoodie are off in one fell swoop and flung onto the floor. He shucks off his shoes and socks and relieves himself of his jeans and underwear.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Tanned skin, a glory trail down to his impressive dick. It bounces under your gaze and you lick your lips. 

“You better be fuckin’ wet,” he says. He rips open your robe, the snaps releasing at once. You learned your lesson with the button and latch ones. Your robes kept getting shredded with his inhuman strength. And you really like this one. 

You don’t wear anything underneath. Somehow you knew that tonight would be different. Whether it was a hunch or intuition, it came in handy tonight. His gaze roams over your body, sighing and cooing in pleasure.

“You’re really fuckin’ perfect,” he croons. He kept eye contact as he leans forward and over you, licking your tummy. You whimpers. His rough tongue was divine. Surely it was a crime to be this addicted to somebody. His every touch set your nerves on fire. 

Fresh arousal drips out of your pussy and you keen forward trying to get his attention. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that needy little cunt for you,” he says. Oh god, you whimper. 

He climbs onto the bed, forgoing your usual treat of him eating you out. You hoped that after he got that post-nut clarity, he’d be all too happy to oblige. But knowing him, he’d stick to it out of spite. By simply knowing that you needed his lips on your pussy. 

As he came over you, he kisses you so sweetly. Feathering his kisses over your full, luscious lips. He kisses the side of your mouth and then your jaw. He licks a hot trail on your neck. 

Your hands came up to rub his back. He’s on fire. He’s a living furnace under your fingertips. His muscles contract and flex beneath your touch. 

“I’m gonna fill that needy cunt with my seed. I want you so full,” he growls in your ear. The subtle gravel in his voice makes you tingle all over. “I need you so badly. Please,” you beg. 

You’re not too proud to beg. Your pussy aches and feels empty. You need him to fill you up now.  You had a very low tolerance for just about everything. Least of all this weird middle between pleasure and pain. 

Steve denies you further. He continues to rain kisses on your chest, sucking on your titty and biting you. He licks the sting away and then latches on to your nipple. He sucks and teases the little bead between his teeth. He uses one hand to dig under you and grab on to your fat ass. 

He squeezes and growls in satisfaction. He uses his other hand to roll your other nipple with his fingers. You moan and writhe. You sigh. “Please, please, please,” you cry.

He kneads your breast and pinches your nipple. Then he switches sides. His mouth came over his favorite nipple and gave it just as much attention. Freezing hotel air hit your wet nipple and you shivered. His free hand came up to warm your titty once more. 

“Steve,” you beg. You couldn’t speak anymore. It was too much.

“That’s my filthy girl,” he says. He lowers his left hand to dance over your damp curls. You suck in a breath. He digs his finger between your pussy lips and sighs. You’e so wet, the sounds of which echoed in the silent room. 

“You’re making a mess over here, sweetheart,” he chides. You whimper and your legs shake. Your nails dig into Steve’s shoulders. He rubs your clit in agonizingly slow circles. Your arousal ramps higher and higher until your body begins to jerk and twitch. 

“Cum for me, dirty girl. Cum on my fingers,” he croons. 

You’re stuttering breaths and shaking so much that he leans down further until he is right on top of you. The solid weight of him made you come undone. He curls his fingers inside of you and you come with a powerful force, waves of please washing over you. Your body seizes as you come. 

Steve talks you down from it, calling you a pretty girl and beautiful and gorgeous. Each new adjective soaked into your brown skin, lighting you up from the inside. You absently rub his head, letting his silky tresses slip through your fingers. 

Your skin’s overheated. If it wasn’t for his body laying on top of yours, you would’ve been shivering from how incredibly cold you were. You sniffle as runaway tears escaped your eyes. 

Steve kisses your cheek, once again licking up the tears. He makes his way back to your mouth. He kisses you lazily. As if you had all the time in the world. He bites your bottom lip hard enough to sting. Then he licks it away. He leans back and sucks on his fingers. The fingers that were inside of you.

You smell your arousal on his fingers. Your breathing starts to settle as Steve sticks his fingers into your mouth. You taste yourself on his fingers and whimper. 

He leans up until he’s kneeling on the bed. He grabs your thighs and moves them to his hips so that he’s lined up perfectly. He pitches forward and lets his smooth dick rub your clit. You’re still a bit sensitive from your orgasm so you twitch on every up-slide. 

Then, he shoves in one full thrust. You’re so slippery, he slides in without resistance. You both moan at the contact. You’re finally full and fuck, it burns so good. He stays like that for a few moments as you acclimate to his size and girth. 

“Fuck. Your pussy feels so damn good,” he says. 

You whimper beneath him and move up and down, trying to signal without words that he needed to move. He pants above you. His floppy hair falls over his brow and half in his eyes. He licks his lips as he stares at you.

Oh, right. You tap his arm twice to let him know that you were okay and he could keep going. You found out pretty quickly that he was capable of rendering you catatonic. You needed a system that communicated through taps to let him know that you were down for everything he was doing. 

He leans forward and kisses you before sliding out of you and then sliding back in. “Such a messy, filthy girl. You’re making a mess all over my dick,” he says.

“Oh god, Steve,” you cry. You clench around his dick and you both groan. You grab onto his forearms and wrap your thick legs around his waist. He starts to piston inside of you, going so deep and hard that he’s hitting the shit out of your G spot. 

You hold on, bouncing on his dick. His balls slap against your ass. 

“Fuck, I’m going to give you all this cum, sweetheart. Tell me you want it,” he says.

“I want it so badly. Please fill me up, please.” 

A desperate need takes hold of you. He feels so good sliding in and out of you with ease. You truly are making a mess. He takes your wrists in his one palm and lifts them above your head until your breasts are on full display. His other hand grips your knee and pushes it back to get a better angle. Somehow, he’s able to go deeper and you make all kinds of incoherent sounds.

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna bruise in the morning. His grip is punishing, locking you into place. Steve chases his own orgasm, giving you no more thought as he closes his eyes and groane. His stomach contracts from the effort of gliding into you. 

“Take this fuckin’ cum, sweetheart. I want your pussy full of my cum. Only mine. Help me fill you up,” he grunts.

He thrusts harder, his thighs slapping against yours. You clench and clench around him, your belly burning with the need to cum. 

“I’m going to put a baby in that pussy of yours. I want your belly to be swollen,” he growl. 

“Oh fuck,” you scream. An orgasm rips through you. Sparks fly behind your eyelids. Your body convulses and twists and turns. Steve lets go of your wrists to hold himself up. He pumps three more times before bursting inside of you with a long, guttural moan. 

His hot seed squirts inside of you, bathing your insides. He pumps a few more times before dropping on top of you. He shakes and you rub his back. You touch every inch of him you could get your hands on. 

He withdraws and you make embarrassing squelching noises as he pulls out. His cum leaks out. You groan from the sensation. He leans up and away, leaning back on his haunches so he can grab your legs and spread them apart.

He surveys his handy work and lord help, but you were getting aroused again. He grunted in between his huffs. 

“You keep that fuckin’ cum inside you,” he growls. He dips his hand down to gather up the cum that slips out. Then he pushes it back inside of you, massaging your overworked pussy. 

“That’s my fuckin’ pussy, that I can use however I want right?” He asks.

“Yes, Steve,” you whisper. You shiver from him fucking his cum back into you. 

“You gonna keep this cum inside you? You gonna grow my baby?” He asks.

“Oh god, yes Steve,” you whine. 

This orgasm sneaks up on you. One minute he is adding a third finger inside of you and the next, you’re huffing and whining and whimpering again. He fucks you through it, moving his fingers in and out as you cry out. Your sweet cries flow over the walls and hit you back.

“So needy and filthy,” he says. 

As you come down, he grins at you for the first time that night. He licks his fingers as he gives you a devilish grin. 

“The things I’m going to do to you tonight,” he says wistfully. His eyes look over your deep russet skin, your big tummy, and juicy breasts. 

You yawn and he chuckles. “Thank you, sweetheart. Get some sleep, we’ve got a long night to make up for.”

Steve untangles himself from you, crossing the room to the bathroom. You curl up on your side as sleep tugs heavily. Steve returns with a washcloth to clean you up. You feel the cold circle of your arousal on the bed. It’s huge. You groan. You can’t believe that all of that came out of you. 

Steve takes care of himself with his own washcloth before laying down and pulling you into him. His warm chest hits your back and your ass hits his dick. You both sigh as you wiggle a bit. Steve tells you to behave. 

He wraps a massive arm around your waist and pulls you closer, his fingers curling underneath you. You’re locked in and aren't about to go anywhere. 

You fall into a deep, deep sleep curled up with the literal man of your dreams.

There's more Steve to love! The Secret Nomad Steve Files

#marvel smut #nomad steve #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers #steven grant rogers #nomad captain america #nomad steve x Black!reader #nomad steve x Black reader #nomad steve x fem reader #nomad steve x you #nomad steve x reader #nomad steve x plus size reader #steve rogers x Black!reader #steve rogers x Black reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Nomad Steve fics #The Secret Nomad Steve Files #Megaminds Secret Files

[ramp-it-up]

The Sweetest Nectar

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader. Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Steve is pining for you and the fact that you are Sam’s girl doesn’t mean a thing.

Word Count: 1K.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT, 

Warnings: Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Soft Dark Subby Nomad Steve Rogers. Darkish reader. Mention of pre-serum Steve, Lap dance in public, voyeurism, masturbation, mention of drugs and alcohol, pining, angst, teasing, exhibitionism (on reader’s part), possible non con exhibitionism (on Sam’s part). Oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up), sloppy seconds, possible cheating. All errors my own.

A/N: Thanks for this ask! It streched me.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were giving your boyfriend a lap dance on Steve’s couch, and it made the host irrationally happy. 

Steve was glad that Sam had someone, especially someone as sweet as you. Damn, you were probably so fucking sweet.

Steve licked his lips as he watched your hips undulate in front of Sam’s face. This was the perfect opportunity to watch you and ogle your body, because everyone was a little tipsy and a little high and doing it too. 

It was all in fun, right?

You glanced at Steve upside down as you gyrated on Sam’s lap now, and bent backward all the way over, your braids touching the floor, giving the room a view of your luscious tits. 

Yeah. You were perfect. And this night was the highlight since Steve came out of the ice.

You winked at Steve and his face grew red, but he played it off by taking another drink and rubbing his beard while flipping his long hair out of his face.

It worked on countless other women, but you just sat back up and pulled Sam’s face into the valley of your breasts, gasping as he motorboated your clothed breasts and grabbed the glorious globes of your blue-jeaned ass. 

People laughed, but Steve’s mood changed; he started plotting dismemberment and where to scatter body parts when Bucky came up to stand beside him and watch.

“Hold it up a little higher, buddy.”

Steve didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he took another drink and replied.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That torch you’re carrying. Maybe she’ll see it if you hold it up higher, Lady Liberty.”

Steve just scoffed and drank some more, not denying anything that Bucky had said.

Bucky laughed and went to get another beer, as Steve practically cried in his, his heart silently aching for you.

—-

You and Sam were in Steve’s bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that everyone else was doing body shots in the kitchen.

“F-f-fuckkkkk! Samuel T-t-t-hom… fuck, Samuel Thomas W-w-wilsonnnnn.”

You were grabbing Sam’s ears as he skillfully ate you out, looking down on him between your legs as he sucked and pulled and played with your clit.

“Fucky, Baby… where did you learn to do … goddamn…”

You panted to try and catch your breath as he inserted three fingers inside you and spread them out.

“Holyyyyyy Shhhhhhh!!!!!!!!” 

You came like a freight train, your knees clamping down around Sam’s head. Sam’s large hands pried you from around his face and came up for air, a triumphant smirk on his face. He held your legs open and gazed at the pretty dark, wet lips of your cunt and the creamy liquid oozing out between them.

“Learning new techniques every day. Just to keep you satisfied, darlin’,”

Sam shook his head and watched as your pretty pussy lips sheltered your still quivering folds.

“It’s a beautiful view.”

Steve silently agreed from the closet, watching your beautiful cunt shine in the dim light from the street. He had his hand wrapped around his cock, fisting himself brutally at the sights, sounds, and faint smell of you. Steve silently willed Sam to action, wanting to hear how that wet pussy sounded when it was fucked good. 

It was just like before the war, when he watched Bucky…

“Hmmmm, Daddy. Give me some. Please? Pretty please. Will you give me some of that thick dick?”

You leaned back, legs still open, looking up at Sam, who was standing now, in front of you.

Your face, fucked out and glowing, looked up at his friend as you licked your lips was everything in the world to Steve Rogers right now.

Steve imagined it was him you were begging, and he didn’t know if he wanted you to suck Sam off or let him fuck you senseless. He just knew that wanted to bust this nut.

“Assume the fucking position then.”

You whimpered, and Steve nearly bust in his hand.

“Yes, Daddy.” 

You got on all fours on the bed and that view was even better than before. Oh, how he’d eat that ass, Steve thought.

Sam smacked both cheeks three times, and your moans and sighs alone were enough to make Steve cum. He watched his friend line up his thick dick and swipe it through your folds, and could almost feel your beautiful wetness. Stevehad to bite his lips to hold in his own grunts as Sam slowly, wetly, and solidly sank into you. 

“Ohhhhhh… shit….DADDY!!!”

“Fuuuuuccccckkkkkk!”

Sam’s head lolled back on his shoulders as he bottomed out and Steve’s eyes practically rolled back in his head as he witnessed the ecstasy. 

Then, Sam looked down and smacked your ass again. Steve watched, rapt, as Sam slowly pulled almost all the way out, then plunged quickly back into your wet goodness. He bet you were so warm. Sam did it again and again and again, faster and faster, and faster. Steve stroked in time as you moaned louder and louder and louder, oblivious to the others at the party.

Steve watched your back arch, and your flesh shake and ripple with every back shot delivered. He was so fucking close.

“Daddy? Daddy? Please Daddy.. I wanna, I wanna….I neeeeeed to…”

“Cum, Darlin’... give it to me. Fuck yeah!”

Sam’s voice was a growl and as you started shaking, Steve’s cum started spilling into his palm and the sock that he was using to contain it.

“Shhsshhhhittttttt….” Steve’s whisper was not silent, but quiet enough that you two wouldn’t hear it over your own noises.

You and Sam collapsed on the bed..

“That was great, Darlin’. You shouldn’t tease me like that in public. ‘S not gonna stop me from giving it to you.” 

Sam kissed your nose.

“I am well aware of what that does to a man. Makes it that much better, Daddy.”

Sam laughed, and then moved toward the bathroom.

“We better get outta here, before Steve catches us in his bedroom.”

You looked toward the bathroom and then sat up on the edge of the bed, legs open again.

Steve saw your wrecked pussy, the combination of you and Sam seeping out, and his cock swelled again. He nearly yelled when he saw you playing in it again. It was like you were doing it just for him.

But you stopped when Sam came back out to get dressed.

“I need a little more time to get cleaned up. You go ahead.”

“Ok Darlin,” Sam leaned over and kissed your forehead and you reached for a peck on the lips.

“You made me hungry, took all my energy. I’m going to go eat some food.” 

Sam winked and left the room smiling and happy.

When the door closed, you stared straight at the closet.

“Well? Are you going to stay in there and jack off again, or are you going to come out and clean me up?”

You leaned back on your hands, legs wide.

“Now’s your chance Steve. I know you’re in there. Are you going to come out Captain?”

Steve gulped. Then he couldn’t help but comply.

“Fuck…”

Steve emerged from the closet, the tip hard cock glistening and stiff at the opening of his undone pants. He walked toward you and dropped to his knees.

You threaded your hand in his hair, brushing it away from his forehead as he closed his eyes at your touch. You guided his head toward your throbbing cunt.

“You get sloppy seconds, but I bet that’s what you like…”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Steve nodded vigorously as his tongue collected the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted.

#ask dj #dj will answer #sam wilson #steve rogers #nomad steve #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson smut #sam wilson x black!reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #soft dark steve rogers #bucky barnes #avengers #chris evans fanfics #anthony mackie #sebastian stan

[megamindslair]

Sit Still (Look Pretty), Part 1

Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some unresolved tension, mutual voyeurism, cursing, mentions of female and male parts, Nomad Steve x Black!reader. Nomad Steve x plus size reader. Part 1 of ? Not sure how long this will take to resolve. Age gap, reader is mid 20s, Nomad Steve is mid 30s.

Summary: AU where Steve was born in modern times but still received a serum in the Army to make him more efficient. He's moved in next door and has noticed you watching him. You and your mom have gone over to introduce yourselves.

Word Count: 1,857k

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics so decided to try my hand at another. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But this was fun. While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging to help writers!

Fuck, your neighbor was hot as hell. You sat on your window seat gawking at the tall, sexy neighbor as he picked up huge boxes and carried them in the house as if it weighed no more than feathers. 

Muscles rippled in a dark blue muscle shirt as he moved and bent over. And that ass. You bit your lip as the neighbor bent further down to lift a chair. Oh and those thighs. You sighed. The Lord took His time with this one. 

The man was at least six foot tall, dark blond hair and a full trimmed beard. He wore a pair of dark jeans and boots. All week, you had watched him go in and out of the newly bought house next door. He carried lots of boxes but none of them gave any clue to his story.

Was he married? Was he expecting? Surely someone that damn fine had a wife heavenly pregnant and ordering him about. You weren’t sure how he didn’t have eleven rugrats running around. There were no other movers and the neighbor had rented a small truck for his sofa and dressers. 

You also saw the neighborhood crones using any excuse in the book to talk to him and be nosy. If he thought someone that looked like him was going to move here without raising any alarms, he was sorely mistaken.

You gasped as he stopped to stretch, moving his body beyond his limit. You just wanted to lick him. Just once. You fanned yourself as you watched him. You imagined all kinds of filthy things when it came to him. 

You imagined him grabbing your fleshy thighs and shaking them before slapping them. You imagined him in between your legs coating that full beard with your juices. You imagined him breaking your back. Like, literally breaking your back. Because he could put you in the hospital and you’d say thank you.

He disappeared into the house. His curtains were thrown open so you could still watch him moving around the house. The downfall to stock houses was that they were lined up just so. The houses were nearly identical. Your bedroom window faced his bedroom window on the second floor. The angle you had was just enough to see his kitchen sink. It’d be possible to see his arms and hands as he washed. 

You spent plenty of nights this week just watching his hands work over his meager dishes. If he was married, she didn’t live with him. You never saw anyone coming or going from his place. He didn’t have a second car. 

Your mom called your name. “I’ve got this cake for the neighbor, let’s go introduce ourselves,” she called. 

You rolled your eyes. Yes, your mom was very much just as gossipy as the neighborhood crones. Everything you’ve heard of the neighbor was through her and probably had twisted from its original message. 

You weren’t dressed yet. You had made watching him your dirty hobby. But you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Sometimes, you got the eerie feeling as if he were watching you too. You had taken to keeping your curtains open and your light on. 

You never saw him look over here. The random times he was in his room and moving around, he never gave any indication that he knew you were looking. Still, you pranced around in your bra and panties every morning or before hanging with your friends as you decided what to wear.

Sometimes, you even faced the window as you decided between two shirts or two skirts. You pretended that he was picking your outfits, telling you what he likes seeing you in. That he would imagine ripping it off of your body all day and it would drive him crazy. Knowing you’d be capable of making him hard and uncomfortable all day turned you on so badly. 

You stood and did just that. You faced his bedroom window even though he was probably still on the first floor. You held up a red, frilly shirt and a light ocean blue plain shirt. You flipped back and forth, imagining what he’d like.

You put the shirts on your bed and then flipped between jeans and white shorts. You held up the red shirt and white shorts. If you were going to meet him, you might as well show him what you’re working with. You turned around and imagined him at the window, getting dressed for him. 

You bent low and shimmied into the white shorts as slow as you could. Then you slipped on the red babydoll tee. It made your breasts look good. Plus it was hot as sin outside. 

You ran down the stairs and sat on the steps as you slipped on your shoes. Your mom floated into the room holding a small box. “I went with chocolate,” your mom said. “Everybody likes chocolate and those who don’t are lying to get attention.”

You laughed as you shook your head. Your mom was gorgeous, with flowing locs and a great figure. She wore loose tan pants and a cream shirt. 

“Isn’t this a little Southern of us?” You asked. You lived in Suburbia with the white picket fences and neighbors who’d gone to high school together. It was capital boredom and should be labeled as a torture method.

“Best way to meet your neighbors. They associate you with good food and are less likely to be rude to you by throwing loud parties and orgies,” your mother said.

You snorted. Your mom never had a filter and would often say the first thing that comes to mind. Your dad hated it but you caught him smiling more than a few times. 

You trudged over the manicured lawn, over the small concrete divider, and onto his property. The door was closed. He was probably taking a break from moving things. Your mom rang the doorbell and you waited.

The door finally opened and you gasped silently. He was even more gorgeous in person. Fuck, it had to be illegal to carry those arms. They looked big enough to crush a coconut in one grip. His hands were large and his fingers were long, like a musician's fingers.

He smirked at you and your mother. Your mom stepped forward. “We wanted to introduce ourselves, we’re your neighbors on that side,” she said and pointed to your house. 

She told him your names and all about the chocolate cake, including her joke about people lying. He threw his head back as he laughed as if it were that funny.

“I’m Steve,” he said. He shook your mom’s hand and then moved to yours. His grip was firm but not crushing.  

You looked down at your combined hands, loving the way that your copper skin contrasted with his creamy skin. He held on a second too long before turning his attention to your mom who asked him a million questions.

“If I heard all of those, I’d say I moved here for work, not married, and I work for the military. Did I get it all?” He asked.

He had a bit of an accent. You guessed somewhere on the East Coast. Your mom giggled. You looked at her as if she grew a third head. She widened her eyes at you and then smiled back at Steve. She prattled on about her career, that fact that you were in college for your master’s, and that you were always available if he needed you. 

Since his attention was on your mom, you took the opportunity to study him up close. His blue eyes were sharp, giving one hundred percent of his focus on the person speaking. He had a prominent vein on the side of his neck and you imagined licking it. 

“Oh, I have to take this, excuse me,” your mom said. She answered her phone and stepped off of the porch. 

You turned to Steve who had his eyes trained on you. He barely blinked and did not look away. 

“So, military huh? That explains that,” you said. You waved at his figure and he laughed. It was deep and made you tingle.

“Thank you. I’m not active duty anymore, I’ve transitioned to the state side and do boring office work now. You home for the summer?” He asked.

“Yes, I am. Taking a break so no work, no homework, just time to decompress. Usually in the pool. This is one of the worst summers ever,” you said and fanned yourself.

Steve slowly perused your body. There was no mistaking that look in his eyes. He faintly smirked as he took in your outfit, your wide curves, your generous hips, and your thick thighs. 

He slowly dragged that gaze back up until he reached your face. “Make sure you stay cool, then. Dehydration is nothing to play with,” he said. 

Your mouth went dry under the intense heat of his gaze. You were aware. You were aware of him and aware of his focus. You bit your lips and his eyes zeroed in on it. His eyes narrowed.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You shifted your footing, trying to find some relief. The heat outside had nothing on his face. 

Your mom’s scuffling shoes took you out of the moment. He winked at you before your mom joined you. Though it was Saturday, her job needed her to come in and solve an emergency. She waved goodbye to Steve and told him not to be a stranger.

You waved bye, unable to speak at the moment. As you turned to leave, Steve grabbed your hand. He ran his fingers over your wrist as he leaned in.

“My favorite color is light blue. And you should get more of those garter things. They look divine on you,” he said. Gravel skated over ‘divine’ and you whimpered. You hoped he didn’t catch that. Your eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes and his eyes narrowed again. 

Your heart thundered in your chest. He knew what you had been doing all along. Your skin heated for entirely different reasons as you thought of all the different lingerie combinations you tried on in front of the window. It somehow made it filthier that he was getting naughty glimpses of you. It made you horny all day thinking of wearing the lingerie and that he didn’t know it was for him. 

It had gotten so bad, that you didn’t care if your parents were home. You had to get off on thinking that he helped select the combos. And those were some of the best orgasms you ever gave yourself. 

“Yes, sir,” you whispered and licked your lips. He smiled and nodded his head as if he were dismissing you. As if he had any right to order you around. 

Yet you left the porch and nearly skipped across the lawn like he told you. Before getting in the house, you looked back. He stood on the porch, facing you, with his hands in his pockets. You smiled and went inside, thinking of how many blue outfits you owned.

#marvel #marvel smut #fanfiction #nomad steve x plus size reader #nomad steve x black!reader #nomad steve x black reader #nomad steve x reader #nomad steve x female reader #steve x neighbor fic #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x black reader #nomad steve #nomad steve AU #alternate universe #au #The Secret Nomad Steve Files

[recschrisevans]

Steve Rogers | recs

🌸fluff 🔥smut 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦family\pregnancy 🏃‍♀️angst 🌚 dark 🤴au!

....

gergeous - 🌸🔥🤴

just frat! Steve being protective of his girlfriend classification -⭐⭐⭐⭐

#dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #nomad steve #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #steve rogers drabble #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x black reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steven grant rogers

[qu1etwolf]

Click Me for Comfort

A friend (@ripperdoc-is-daddy) asked me for a comfort fic because she was feeling out of place. So for anyone else who feels a little different because of their background, this js for yall.

Characters - Okoye, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers

Warnings - Honestly there aren't any. Maybe a little bit of identity crisis

Summary - Bipoc!reader training with the Dora Milaje feels out of place because she wasn't born in Wakanda.

Words - 798

Masterlist

The bright colors and unique architecture of the markets in Wakanda are beautiful as you pass through them, but you feel detached and out of place. Your brain repeats over and over that you don't belong here. These are not your people. This is not your home. You know better, but you can't help from feeling it.

You walk past booths of various goods like fabrics, spices, even a cute little basket shop but also vendors selling advanced tech and impressive armor and weapons. It was an interesting mix of people and items. You run your hand across a beautiful piece of handwoven cotton before turning around and walking back toward the palace. There was some big to-do about the Avengers showing up today and regardless of how you were feeling you didn't want to miss it.

You were sitting on the balcony of your room when the Quinjet landed. They were the reason you were here so it will be nice to see them again. You watch them offload from the jet and make their way into the palace after meeting with Ramonda in all her glory on the terrace. Little did you know, they were asking about you before they even got past the doors.

You hear voices in the hall a few minutes later "Y/N? Last I saw she was in her room. Down at the end of this hall. She has training later so don't hold her up too long."

There's a gentle knock on your door. "Y/N?"

You get up to answer your door, even though you don't particularly feel like company at the moment.

On the other side of the door is Steve, Sam, and Okoye. Okoye grimaced, "I'm sorry, y/n, but they insisted. I still expect you to be in training on time. Don't let these two cause a problem."

"Yes, ma'am," you nod at her, knowing she'd go harder on you if you were late. She turned on her heels and returned down the hallway without another word. The boys grinned at you.

Steve wraps you up in a tight hug. "We haven't seen you in almost six months, how's your training with the Dora going? Settling in well?"

From behind him you hear Sam interject, "Kicking ass and taking names, right?"

You sigh heavily, wishing you could tell them that everything was great and perfect, but it wasn't. You gesture for them to find places to sit and close the door behind them. Both men sit their shields down by the door, clearly having not even stopped by their rooms before coming to see you. 

"I don't know. I just….feel out of place. I know this should feel like home but it doesn't. They treat me differently. Like I'm…not enough because I wasn't born Wakandan. I'm an outsider. It's…rough. It's nice to see you guys again though. I see there was an exchange of shields while I was gone. Nice job, Cap." You smile and nod at Sam.

"Eh, that old fossil over there didn't want it anymore and dropped it on me. I couldn't really say no," he smirked, "Now what's this about you feeling out of place? We brought you here to train with the Dora because you are badass. You can out-fight half the people in this building."

"I know…I know. I just feel like it's not enough for them."

They walked over to sit on either side of you and wrapped an arm around you tightly. "You will always be enough. It's not your fault if they can't see that yet. The people here are very private and very proud. They just take some time to warm up. You are one of the strongest people we know. Keep your chin high, be just as proud, and they will recognize it. Even if it takes them a minute. I promise." Sam massaged your shoulder a bit before they both wrapped you in the biggest bear hug you have ever felt. "Seriously. Never feel like you're not good enough. We brought you here. If you weren't good enough, we wouldn't have done that, right? So chin up, back straight, March into that training room and show them that even though you weren't born on Wakandan soil…even American black women can kick ass. Knock Ayo on her ass a couple times for me, would ya?" Sam grinned before finally letting you go. Steve holds the hug for a minute longer before doing the same.

"You've got this. You belong here. You belong anywhere. And if anyone says a damn word, they can talk to us or Ramonda about it. Got it?" Steve said firmly.

Somewhere between your laughter and your tears you grin. "Language."

"Ugh…I told them that wasn't going away any time soon…"

#bipoc!reader #black!reader #fluff #comfort #steve rogers fanfiction #sam wilson fanfiction #captian america #captian america x bipoc!reader #captain america sam wilson #nomad steve #black panther #wakanda forever

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐤

Fairy Tales and stories always had one ending, that the prince would find his princess and all would be well; a masterful, happily ever after. You had never believed that would be you, not in your wildest dreams. Until the day that two knights in inked armour walked through the door of your castle and made themselves at home in your heart.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 6.7k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Fluff, light show of dom/sub

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𖠺 I sincerely blame my hype squad for this, but a very special thank you to SC for her genius mind for helping me build this world, and to @sebstanwhore for putting up with my screaming about it constantly. 𖠺 This is officially my longest published fic as of September 2023!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 𖠺 So This Is Love by Ilene Woods, Mike Douglas 𖠺 I See The Light by Mandy Moore, Zachary Levi

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 𖠺 @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𖠺 @stuckybingo 𝗚𝟰 — Tattoo Shop AU (September Adoptable) — Masterlist 𖠺 @allcapsbingo 𝗕𝟰 — Old Married Couple — Masterlist 𖠺 @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗕𝟭 — Florist AU — Masterlist 𖠺 @mcukinkbingo 𝗚𝟱 — Poly Relationship Negotiation — Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Sunlight streamed through the window as you stood behind the shop counter. It was a bright, clear day, and the possibilities that a new day could bring excited you. 

The perfume of freshly bloomed buds and bouquets filled your senses, each petal of the flowers that surrounded you just as pretty as the last. Walking into the place you built from the ground up since botany had run in your blood for generations. The love for floristry, specifically, had been passed down from your mother, then her mother before her, and her mother before her. 

As a child, with their guidance, you grew up with such kindness and compassion for all flora and fauna, and you were an avid daydreamer. 

Your daydreams of fairy tales, of wonder and love through the petals and veins of the ages, was how you came to affectionately name your haven and shop Fantasy Floristry. 

Lanterns softly lit the way between the rows of bouquets and arrangements in the shadier corners of your store, and the walls, which were devoid of shelves with bouquets, were covered with pencil drawings of fantasy creatures and characters from many Disney movies – all signed by a local artist. That of which, was you. 

It was a slow morning, customers sparse and fairly few between. Which, in itself, was never unusual, and afforded you the opportunity to potter about. Each bud you passed had a loving caress and gentle touch before they were spritzed with a soft spray of water, and you hummed along to the music playing over the speakers, a classic, timeless Disney tune.

You smiled as you looked upon the shelves fit to burst with blooms – each bunch set to a theme of a movie. Red and yellow matched with a brown ribbon for Simba and his mane, black and white with a red ribbon for Patch and his collar, and your most popular theme, one for Rapunzel; purple and yellow, with a gold ribbon to tie it in. 

The chime of the doorbell sounded at the front of the store, and you looked up just in time to see your best friend and employee walk in, steaming to-go cups in hand. “Late again,” you scolded, and she smiled sheepishly. 

“I brought us coffees to make up for it, darling,” Wanda simpered, holding out one of the coffees and a small brown bag. “And I bought you a bagel. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

You rolled your eyes and took the coffee. “Thanks, Wands.”

“I’ll be out back,” Wanda called as she strode to the cool room. “See you later!” 

Things progressed as usual after that – customers came and went with bright smiles as they left with small or big bouquets. 

You were behind the counter working away on the store’s social media when the bell chimed loudly, followed by two sets of heavy footfalls and low voices. “She’s off with Ma, you know that, punk,” one of them said, almost as though they were exasperated. “It’ll be nice for them to come back to something, don’t you think?”

“Alright, alright,” the other voice replied placatingly. The door closed behind the newcomers with another chime, and their boots thumped quietly over the tiled floor. “Which do you think- Oh, wow. They’re beautiful.”

You looked up from your phone just in time to see two men approaching, only they had stopped at the Rapunzel and Simba bouquets, the blond one of the two pointing at the purple roses and yellow lilies. His other hand… was holding the other’s – interlocked so their tattoos aligned, and a wedding band shone brightly on his ring finger. 

They were beautiful – far more so than any bouquet you could imagine or conjure. The blond was broad and lithe, his long hair swept back and beard neatly trimmed. A black plaid shirt covered his frame, and the top two buttons were undone, revealing coloured ink creeping up his collarbones. A bright, intricate yellow sunflower was tattooed along the contours of his neck, from the back to the front of the pale skin.

It seemed to match the other man’s, who, in place of a sunflower, had a bunch of purple daisies arranged in a loosely assembled heart. His hair was dark and long, down to the top of his shoulders, and he was bigger, broader than the blond man, though they stood at the same height. His skin was covered in ink – visible under the rolled up sleeves and open collar of his navy henley. 

“Oh, lord,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to try and discern if you were dreaming. 

You were, in fact, not dreaming. 

The dark-haired man looked up at the counter and sent you a charming grin, pointing at the flowers himself. “Did you do these?” 

Don’t make a fool of yourself, you chastised silently. “Yeah, they–yeah, I did them,” you stammered in reply. 

“They’re stunning,” the blond offered, awestruck. “You’ve done an amazing job, doll.”

The two men walked to the counter, hands still interlocked as they neared, and you gulped – they were married, keep it together. 

“I’m Steve,” the blond said happily, holding his hand out to shake, which you accepted politely, with an added bonus of being able to look at his tattoos. “And this is my husband, Bucky.” He pointed at the dark-haired man who also offered his hand, only he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles – just like a prince would. Your stomach and heart swooped at the gesture when Steve continued, “We own the tattoo shop next door.”

“Oh!” you chirped, immediately cringing internally. You offered your name, then, “I’ve seen the art in the windows, and it’s all so beautiful. Have you been here long? I know I’ve only recently set up shop, but business has been so busy I haven’t had a chance to come and say hello.”

Bucky grinned. “Too long, we would say,” he chuckled and glanced at Steve. “We saw you set up shop back when you moved in, and I have to say, we were very intrigued.” Both men looked around your store before their focus was back on you. “It’s a beautiful set up, nice ‘n cosy.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, shy but proud. 

Steve smirked and nodded to the display of Rapunzel flowers. “What would a professional recommend for two hovering mother hens–just to remind them that we love ‘em.”

“Oh, that is so sweet,” you rushed before you could clamp your jaw shut, and Bucky snorted. “What? What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky rushed, still grinning. “It’s just–if you met them, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

A loud smack sounded as Steve slapped Bucky’s shoulder and shoved him away. “Stop being such an ungrateful son, honey,” he teased as Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Anyway,” you said haltingly, making your way around the counter. More to yourself, you mumbled, “You can do this, it’s fine, they’re just handsome men, keep it together.” 

Coming to a stop at the far corner, you stopped and watched both of them as they bickered, much like an old married couple, “You know Ma would like that more. She likes teddies and shit-” Bucky emphasised, but Steve raised a brow. 

“You’re telling me that you want to shell out for a damn bear–well, aren’t you son of the year,” Steve teased, staring at the shelf full of small, soft stuffies. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, now he agrees with me-” Bucky was cut off by Steve’s hand, who covered his mouth and held his thumb under his chin to keep his mouth shut. The display made your lips part in surprise, though it went unnoticed. Bucky’s brows furrowed, and it looked as though he was pouting. You made out a muffled but determined huff of, “Lemme go.”

“Do as you’re told then, boy,” Steve whispered harshly. 

Internally, you were screaming at the show of intimacy – albeit restrained, and you couldn’t help the shiver that crawled up your spine at the sound of Steve’s command. You shook your head and cleared your throat to get their attention. 

Both of their gazes snapped towards you as though they had forgotten where they were. “D-Do you still want–want help?” you stuttered. 

“Yes, please, doll,” Steve said happily, and he wandered over. Bucky followed soon after and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, wrapping his arms from behind – the creak of leather made you look down to see Bucky on his toes to have the slight height advantage. 

You realised a second too late that you were still staring at them because they chuckled and winked at you when you glanced back up at their faces.  

A sudden shyness blanketed your mind at their undivided attention, but you pushed through the murky waters of confused intrigue and desire – the latter a shock to your system. “So, we have these, especially for motherly bouquets,” you explained, pointing at the purple, pink, and yellow hues of petals. “Otherwise…”

The tour of the shop was an eventful encounter. Both men were enraptured and entranced by the beauty of the flowers, and each compliment to any arrangement made your heart soar with pride. It was only when you made it back to the Disney themed arrangements did Steve’s eyes light up. 

“Mom would love these,” he breathed, gently brushing the petals of a yellow lily before doing the same to a purple rose. ��She loves this movie. It’s a job to convince her to watch anything else.”

You giggled and nodded in agreement. “I have to say it’s one of my favourites, too. So beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said suddenly, and you looked at him. He was already staring at you. “Really beautiful.”

The humming of Ilene Woods came over the speaker at that moment: “So this is love, so this is what makes life divine.” Steve nodded in agreement and looked at you with a fond smile.

It was surreal, and it was all you could do to hold in a squeak of shock. On autopilot, while you recovered from such an insinuation, you blurted quickly, “I saw the tattoos on your necks. What do they mean? They’re so beautiful, and I adore them.”

“Oh, these?” Bucky pointed at his and then Steve’s, the flower tattoos bright in the sunlight from the window. “My Ma loves purple daisies, loved ‘em since she was young. I always bring her some each time I visit, and since she and Steve’s Mom are best friends, it’s only natural that this punk has to get Sarah some of her own. Don’t want him lookin’ like the bad son, after all.”

Steve shoved Bucky off and sighed heavily. “Yeah, shut it, jerk.” He rubbed at the tattoo, smiling absently. “Mom loves sunflowers. Dad used to get her a bunch every Friday night.”

You smiled softly at his words, feeling the pain of them. “That’s beautiful, Steve.” Bucky’s hand found Steve’s, and you saw him squeeze once. “Would you like two Rapunzel bouquets, then? I can add a sunflower and a daisy to each at no charge–I want to make your mothers smile. They deserve it.”

“Sweetheart, we can’t ask you to do that,” Bucky interjected. Steve hummed an ascension as you grabbed a bouquet. “Seriously. Your arrangements are stunning. We can’t ask for anymore.”

“You’re not asking,” you whispered quietly, looking at the bouquet in your arms. The beat of your heart thundered as you wondered if what you were about to say would spook them off, but their presence had flourished something inside of you – a boisterous and courageous thing. “I am offering, and I want those who leave my shop to be happy, to smile. If I can do that for your mothers too? You bet I will.”

You turned your back and walked towards the counter, entirely missing the look Bucky and Steve shared – one of adoration and affection.

The bouquet sat proudly on the counter as you turned to grab the next one, when you gasped in shock. Bucky had grabbed the second one, while Steve had picked up one of the largest and most expensive arrangements. 

“Oh, Steve! Bucky, wait, I-”

“Nope,” Bucky cut in, and he placed the Rapunzel bouquet down next to the other one. Then he turned to Steve to help him lift the bigger arrangement onto the counter. “How about this–would you make us something for our shop? We want something on the front desk. This big one,” he pointed to the elaborate piece, “is going in our home–away from Alpine.”

“Alpine?” you quizzed. Steve nodded, and Bucky pulled out his phone before turning the screen to you – a photo of a fluffy white cat with piercing blue eyes as his lock screen. “They are beautiful!”

“She’s an attention whore, but she’s our baby,” Bucky said fondly, a small smile on his lips. He looked up at you and that smile morphed into a grin. “Now, how ‘bout it, sweetheart?”

You blinked. “Sorry?”

“The arrangement for our shop, doll,” Steve answered, and you started – how had you forgotten that?

“Right!” you rushed, flustered. They watched you, but their gazes were gentle, almost coaxing. “Sure–I, uh, I can do that for sure. When do you need it by?” Your trusty paper pad and pen felt comforting in your hands, and you looked between them expectantly. 

They shared a look, and then Steve spoke up, “Are you busy now, honey?”

Mentally, you catalogued the tasks for the day. There were no urgent appointments to meet nor any commissions, and Wanda was around… “No, I am–I am free, today, that is.” You cursed the softness of your voice. They’d see your shyness, your absurd ability to become flustered with the slightest push. 

Bucky grinned and then winked. “Perfect, why don’t we take you to the shop? See how quick our clever girl can whip something up.”

By heaven and earth, how you were unprepared for such a statement. Your mouth opened and closed as the words settled in the cogs of your brain, jamming them with the assurance  and praise. 

“That’s a good idea, doll. You can get a sense for the colours and contrasts.” Steve turned to you more fully. “We can walk you back–do you have someone to watch the store…?”

“Yeah–I, there’s-” You squeaked, gesturing over your shoulder. “I’ll just- Um, go get her.”

The back cooler room couldn’t have been further away at that moment. You rushed towards it, arm outstretched when you heard Steve whisper behind you, “She’s so sweet, don’t you think?”

“She is,” Bucky agreed easily. The words made your heart thump, and you didn’t linger, pushing open the door to the blast of the cool back room air.  

“There you are-” Wanda greeted, but she fell short.

You shut the door and rested against it, holding a hand over your hammering heart.

“What the–? Are you alright?” she hurriedly asked, her face pulled taut and brows furrowed. “You look like you’ve… Wait, are you-”

“I need you to watch the shop for me,” you barrelled, breathing deeply in an effort to calm your racing heart. “Please–just look.” The door creaked open to reveal a slither of the front counter where Bucky and Steve stood, conversing and looking around the store. “They want me to make a–a bouquet for their shop, the tattoo–?”

“Oh, babe,” Wanda whispered, pushing the door closed gently. There was an impish smile curling her lips. “Go on, I’ve got this. If you don’t come back tonight, I’ll close up.”

“What do you mean not come back–?” You stared at her, unable to comprehend her secret, double meaning. 

“Don’t you worry, sweet summer child,” she said, winking. “I’ll see you later.”

Before you could protest or question why everyone kept winking at you, Wanda had undone the bow of your apron, whisked it off of your uniform, and forced you out the door ahead of her. 

“There she is!” Bucky called, his signature grin curling his lips. “Are you set to go?”

Wanda stood beside you, her hand on your shoulder, and she surreptitiously pushed you closer to the counter. She had that same coy smirk on her lips. Both Bucky and Steve waved and greeted her. “Just take care of my girl–she’s going to make you the best arrangement,” Wanda said. 

“We will,” Steve assured, and he pulled out his wallet. “I’ll pay for these now, ladies.”

After completing the transaction for the two bouquets and singular larger arrangement, Wanda’s hand found your back, and she forced you forward, closer to Bucky. “See you three later.”

Steve saluted and walked forward, and you followed, your footsteps quick compared to the heavy boot falls of your companions. As you walked behind Steve, Bucky pointed up to a canvas on the wall – a scene painted straight from the movie Tangled, the beautiful soft hues of yellow and gold of the lanterns in the sky. “Who did this?”

“A local artist,” you whispered, glancing between the canvas and Bucky. “She sells her work here–I wanted to help an old friend.”

Bucky stepped closer to the canvas, and by doing so, he stood right next to you. The smell of his cologne and close proximity made your heart skip a beat – even his voice sounded deeper this close. “Whoever she is, she’s very talented. Pass that on for us, yeah?”

“Okay,” you squeaked, and you cleared your throat. “Yeah, I- I will pass that on for you. She would appreciate it.”

“I would be tempted to hire her,” Steve said quietly, voice awestruck. “Her colour work and ability to capture the moment is beautiful. She has a gift.”

Do not faint, you repeated in a mantra.

“Alright, c’mon,” Bucky urged. “Let’s take our Petal to the shop, or we’ll never leave.”

“Petal?” you whispered, and Bucky rested his hand on your lower back, gently encouraging you forward. 

“Yeah, that’s you,” he said softly. “Precious and pretty–jus’ like a petal of a flower.”

The outside air was a reprieve from the stifling tension of your shop, and Steve turned around and looked at you, then Bucky, and he slowed to walk beside you – opposite to Bucky. You were walking between them, and could not calm your heart’s thunderous beat. 

It was a short walk, but nonetheless, it left an impression. People had hastened to move out of your way as you walked between the two men, both brooding and you had guessed intimidating – if the shocked and double-takes of all passers by were anything to go by. 

A dark brick building came into view – black awnings and dark accents made it feel rustic, paired with the striking art on the windows of a star and a set of wings set just below the artistic calligraphy of Quartet’s Tattoo. 

“Here we are,” Steve said, gesturing at the front door. “Come on in, Petal–Buck, babe, you picked a nice one. I love the way it sounds.”

“What?” you sputtered. “I-”

‘Yeah,” Bucky breathed, then slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. His lips were suddenly on your temple, a soft kiss that left you reeling. “I agree.”

The door, artfully carved with more stars and in place of wings were skulls, opened with a creak to reveal a dark and moody waiting area. Wooden beams were visible over the ceiling where lights with black shades hung in increments, and designs were all over the walls, each as intricate as the last. Dark slats of wood lined the floor until they reached an open space towards the back of the shop where you guessed the booths were situated. 

“Take a seat, sweetheart,” Bucky said, pointing to a black leather couch that seated three, a glass table in front of it. “Do you want a drink–?”

“Water, please,” you replied, sitting down. You suspected you’d need something stronger to dull the nerves, but you refrained from mentioning that aloud. “This is beautiful.” 

Art was everywhere, in every nook and cranny. You could see four booths, and managed a peak at the names lining the walls – Steve, ‘Cap’; Bucky, ‘Sarge’; Nat, ‘Widow’; Sam, ‘Falcon’.

“Thanks, doll,” Steve said happily, and he took the seat opposite you. “It’s our pride and joy.”

Bucky appeared with a glass of water and sat on the other end of the couch, tucking his leg up so he could face you. It was silent for a moment as you took the space in. Choices flooded your mind the more you stared around – reds and burgundies to compliment the dark stained wood, but then, whites and yellows would contrast against the deep, rich hues of the mahogany.

You blinked and looked back at Bucky and Steve, only they were already watching you. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you breathed, smiling nervously as you placed the glass of water on a coaster on the table. “I- I was just looking so I could, um, get a feel for the arrangement for you.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you thinking?” Bucky asked, his tone teasing. 

Frowning slightly, deep in thought, you looked around the shop once more before finally settling on the reception desk. 

The wood was stained dark, like the rest of the shop, but the accents of lightened, bleached knots and ridges caught your attention. Whites and yellows would bring that to light, and then, a fiery arrangement for the glass coffee table… “Uh- Well, I have two ideas,” you began. 

Both Bucky and Steve raised their brows, and placed their drinks on the table. Steve leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and letting his hands fall between his thighs. Bucky, back still against the arm of the couch, leaned against it and put a heavily tattooed arm over the back of it. 

“Let’s hear it then,” Bucky said, his grey eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s our clever girl imagined?”

“Let her talk, Buck,” Steve chastised. 

You took a deep breath and fought against the urge to run and hide – it was strange to feel so safe and attended to by these two strangers, but they had done nothing to warrant suspicion, at least, not that you had thought. 

“Well,” you began, fidgeting in your seat as you nodded to the reception desk. “I thought a lighter arrangement would work. See how the wood is stained dark, but there are lighter streaks and knots?” You pointed at the spots you could see from your vantage point. “Whites and yellows would soften the–I think saturation is the right word?”

There was an affirming hum from one of them, and you continued. “Then it would make the entry feel lighter, as the room feels broody–it isn’t a bad thing,” you rushed to assure, looking at the two men with wide eyes. “The space is beautiful, and I love it–just, some softness might brighten it a bit.”

“Huh, you’re right, doll,” Steve considered, his hand now rubbing his chin as he stared at the desk. “I think we’d do better–maybe attract more clients. What do you think, babe?”

“It would work well, yeah,” Bucky agreed. 

He shifted closer, almost imperceptibly, but your keen, anxious senses saw it immediately. What frightened you more was the fact you were not scared of it. The thought of him being close made your body heat up from some depth that had been untouched. They were married, you intoned. They were married to one another, no less. 

“What would be even better, though,” Bucky continued, his tone impish. “Is if you told us the second idea.”

“Oranges and reds–fiery colours to bring attention to the mahogany wood and dark stain,” you said in one breath. Nerves had started to make your stomach roil and flutter with butterflies. As you stared at your hands while breathing shallowly, a tattooed hand rested over your fingers, effectively stopping your bad habit of picking at the skin. “I-”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Bucky said quietly, squeezing your hands. “You’re alright. It’s cute that you're so shy, but trust us, you’re okay. If we are comin’ on too strong for you, we will stop.”

The world stopped. Time froze, your place in the expansive universe suddenly too much to comprehend. “Coming on too strong–?” you asked hoarsely, unable to take in the words. “Are you- You two are flirting with me?”

There was a chuckle from the seat across from you, and you looked at Steve sharply. A bright smile was on his face, one of which conveyed affection, not patronisation. “Yeah, we are, doll. Do you want us to stop?”

You blinked, looked at Bucky, then back to Steve. “But you’re married!”

“We are, happily so,” Bucky said, and he took his hand away. You suddenly missed the warmth of it. “And we know what we want. We were in your shop today for more than just flowers, sweetheart. I wasn’t lying when I said we’ve been curious–a pretty Petal like you, clever and downright beautiful, both generous and kind… Well, we were intrigued.”

The words flushed your system and left you hollow with shock, akin to an overwhelming giddiness. “I don’t understand,” you breathed, staring at Bucky. “You want- What do you want?”

“We want to take you on a date. If you are interested, and want to,” Bucky offered gently. “You can say no, and we won’t think any different of you, don’t you worry ‘bout that. Like hell would we skip on your skills as a florist, and we’d still be friends. If you wanted to be, of course.”

“A date?” 

“A date,” Steve affirmed. “We know polyamorous relationships aren’t everyone’s cup of tea-” 

Bucky snorted a laugh and shook his head. “You sound ridiculous saying that, Stevie.”

“Shut up, punk,” Steve sighed. Then he looked at you again. “As I was saying, yes, it’s not everyone’s favourite. We just- We became smitten with you, doll. So, if you would be interested, we’d like to take you on a date.”

“Oh.” 

The world, still tilted on its axis, started spinning once more, taking your insides with it as it moved. You blinked rapidly, and your hands curled and relaxed on your knees. 

Truly, the offer didn’t scare you, per se. It was the reality shaking thought that not one, but two men found you intriguing enough that they wanted to take you out on a date–a traditional date.

A truly old fashioned notion, you thought. 

Their presence seemed to bring out your reckless, wild side, and you took a deep breath. They said they would still care for you as a friend, even if you said no, and it comforted your heart and screaming, anxious mind. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky asked, brow raised. “Do you want some time-”

“I’ll go on a date with you two,” you interrupted before you could stop yourself. “I would love that.”

Bucky beamed at you while Steve rose from his seat to lean down and kiss the crown of your head. “Perfect, doll. Why don’t you do both of your ideas, and we can pick ‘em up when you’re done?”

Feeling emboldened, you grinned up at Steve and then at Bucky. “I will have them done in a few hours. Walk me back?”

“You heard the lady,” Bucky murmured, his eyes slightly wide at your eagerness. “Someone’s excited to get to work.”

“Well, you have me motivated,” you explained with a shrug and a shy smile. “I won’t let you two down.”

Steve shook his head and helped you up before leading you to the door. “You could never let us down, honey–remember that.” 

The two of them walked you back to your shop, opening and holding the door for you. “Such gentlemen,” you teased quietly. They only winked. 

“There you are,” Wanda called happily as she rounded the counter to greet you. “Have you organised a theme?”

“Two,” you supplied, chipper. Wanda’s brows raised at your enthusiasm. “I’m going to be doing a light arrangement and a fiery toned one, too. It’ll set the colours off nicely, I think.” 

Wanda nodded and grabbed your hand. “You’re the expert,” she said, leading you towards the cooler room. “See you boys later!”

“No, wait,” you rushed, looking back at Steve and Bucky as you pulled away from Wanda’s grip. “Can–can I have your number? So I can text you when they’re done–?”

The smiles on their faces could have made the toughest rose bloom, you swore. Once their numbers were in your phone, they walked from the store, arrangements in hand for their mothers. 

As you worked on the bouquets while Wanda minded the store, you thought long and hard about their proposition. They were grown men. It was not like you were dealing with the decisions and minds of growing boys – marriage was a big deal, and opening it to a stranger was even more risky. Did they truly want to risk all of what they had built? 

Thoughts spiralled, and your mind whirled with all the possibilities – rational thought long cast out of the equation. Until, “You keep pulling a face like that, babe, and it’ll get stuck.”

You looked up to see Wanda standing in the doorway, hair tied up and a soft, kind smile on her face. Her eyes were bright, glinting in the way that told you she knew something was amiss. “What’s got you all tied up, love?”

The stem of the rose was smooth against your fingers, and you considered the thorns that adorned it – helpfully comparing it to your current predicament. “I just, I don’t know. It seems so sudden–doesn’t it? Them just waltzing in here–”

“Hold on.” Wanda glanced back to the store and then stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest. “You will not second guess this. I have seen those two make heart eyes at you for the longest time.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, astonished. 

“I meant what I said,” Wanda said a little too easily, and she shrugged. “Have you not seen how those puppies look for you as they walk by the store window almost every single day?”

Your mouth parted in shock. Had they? “No…”

Wanda shook her head slowly, a slow smile pulling the corner of her lips up. It wasn’t a condescending expression, but rather, one of an older sister who cared beyond words for the one they loved. “Babe, you… You have to give this a shot. Give them a chance. I do not know them well, but I know they are kind, and gentle–gentle giants, if you will.” 

A strong feeling of ease settled in your gut and over your mind, cancelling out the cacophony of nerves that screamed and pitched their fits. If Wanda, the one you trusted the most, could see something, maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it. 

You looked at the bouquets before you, one of angelic and pure white to sunny, happy yellow; the other bright, cheerful orange and fiery, passionate red. It was symbolistic of the clash in your mind; resemblances to the possible opportunities. White for the softness of your soul, and reds to Bucky and Steve’s desire. 

“Alright,” you said aloud, voice firm and unwavering. “I’ll do it. I- I want this.”

Wanda grinned, a blindingly prideful smile. “‘Atta girl. Now, get to it!”

A few hours later, as the sun had started to begin its descent, you stood in the back room of your shop filled with awe. The bouquets had turned out perfect – each petal and leaf in place. You snapped a few photos with your phone and then sent a text to Bucky’s number, asking if they would come around after they closed up. 

Your ringtone made you jump in place, and Bucky’s name flashed across the screen. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky greeted, the low hum of a tattoo machine in the background with the lull of quiet music. “Did you finish the flowers?”

“Yeah, I- I did, do you think you could–?”

There was a huff of breath, a chuckle, and then a sudden yell of “Babe!” before another voice came through the speaker. 

“We’ll be round in about twenty minutes–that okay, doll?” Steve asked.

“That’s perfect,” you replied, looking at the clock. “I’ll be here–I’ll close up, so just knock when you get here.”

“Alright, see you soon.” The line clicked, and you put your phone back in your pocket. 

Closing the shop went quickly, and after you had said goodnight to Wanda, you were on your own in the office, waiting as the minutes went by until you heard a knock on the store’s door. “Coming!” 

Steve and Bucky were waiting on the sidewalk, huddled in coats as they watched you walk to the door. “Hey, come in, come in,” you rushed, stepping aside. “Thank you for coming and picking them up so late.”

“It’s nothin’, sweetheart,” Bucky yawned. “If we’re honest–we wanted to see you before we headed home.”

You smiled and looked at the floor, unable to look him in the eye after such sincerity. There was suddenly a hand gripping your chin gently, and you automatically moved in tandem with it until you were staring into Steve’s handsome face. “That we did.”

Blinking rapidly, you pulled back with a shaky laugh. “Did you guys have a good rest of your day?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, looking around happily. “Normal shit with walk-ins and then we got started on a back piece. Poor bastard had to tap out.”

“We warned him.” Bucky shrugged. “Not like the poor fool didn’t know what he was gettin’ into. Anyway–how about those flowers?”

You led the two of them to the counter, where you heard two sharp intakes of breath as the arrangements came into view. They were extraordinary, and you had gone above and beyond for them – using flowers and buds that were yet to bloom to fill the spaces, each and every one placed with care and consideration. All of the colours complimented; a true masterpiece. 

“Holy shit,” Steve gasped, and Bucky rushed forward to look at the bundles closer. “Petal– look at them!”

“You are amazing,” Bucky said quietly, his fingers brushing the petals of a white rose. “Absolutely fuckin’ amazing, look at this. You did this.”

“Oh, my gosh,” you whispered, hiding behind your hands. “It’s just two bouquets-”

Steve looked at you, aghast. “No.” 

Both of them stepped towards you, and the next thing you knew, you were between them, squished to their chests and their arms around you. “Don’t you dare discount yourself, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured. “Be proud of yourself–it’s not a bad thing to be proud of what you create. And what you created is fuckin’ stunning.”

Many emotions swirled through your mind until you sniffled, pushing back against the burn of tears in your eyes. “O-Okay, thank you,” you whispered. Steve pulled away from the embrace to look at the flowers again, his face slack with awe, and Bucky held you tighter to his chest.

You felt a kiss at your temple suddenly. “Don’t you listen to those voices, alright? We’re louder and you’re gonna learn to love what you do, no matter what.” Unable to answer, you just nodded jerkily, wiping your eyes. Bucky’s thumb brushed your cheek, and he smiled softly as he pulled back. 

“Why don’t we get dinner?” Steve asked suddenly, and you looked at him. “This isn’t our date, Petal, don’t you worry. Let’s just get dinner. How do you get home–drive, walk?”

“I walk-” You tried, but Steve shook his head. 

“Not anymore, can’t have our Petal walking home on your own, okay?”

Ordinarily, you would have grimaced and grumbled at the commanding nature of such a statement, but somehow, this didn’t feel out of place. They cared, they just wanted you safe, you reasoned. “Okay, but Wanda normally walks with me, so–”

“That’s fine, we’ve got you both,” Bucky said simply, as though giving you both a lift was, in fact, not a big deal. 

“If you’re sure,” you said quietly, and Bucky squeezed your shoulder.

“Let’s go, I’m starved,” Steve said loudly, almost obnoxiously. Bucky rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. “Don’t start with me, babe. You know how I get when I’m hungry.”

Bucky looked at you. “Yeah, he becomes more of a pain in my ass.”

“Literally,” Steve chortled, and you gasped in quiet shock as Bucky hit Steve on the shoulder.

“We are in polite company, you fucker!” Bucky shoved Steve, and the two of them bickered as they arranged the flowers in their arms to better carry them out of the store. 

Finally, Bucky huffed and stuck his tongue out at Steve. “Let’s get these in the shop, then we can go to that diner.”

The three of you wandered out of your store, bouquets in hand, and Bucky took them into the shop. “How about here?” he wondered aloud, placing the red bouquet on the table, and adjusting it slightly. 

You strode forward and adjusted it again, turning the vases and humming to yourself as you righted it. When you were satisfied, you stepped back and nodded. “How ‘bout that?”

Steve hummed approvingly as he placed the white arrangement on the reception desk – perfectly, you may add. Bucky looked between you and the flowers once, twice, then, “You’re decorating from now on, sweetheart.”

“If you say so.”

“We know so.” Steve’s hand was warm on your shoulder, and you briefly glanced down at the intricate designs that covered the back of his hand, the swirls stopping at the gold wedding and engagement bands. He flexed his hand and raised a brow. “What is it, doll?”

You considered your answer, and then ploughed on. “How long have you been married?”

“Feels like our whole lives at this point,” Bucky answered before Steve could open his mouth. “I’ve been with this punk since, what–college? Before that, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “We’ve been partners for a lifetime, and all those before-”

“Don’t go gettin’ all poetic on me, honey,” Bucky hushed, and he kissed Steve on the lips, then the cheek. “You said you were starved.”

“Can’t I be soft on my love?” 

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “You’re a punk–c’mon, Petal, let’s go.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you along – it was hard to ignore how warm his hand was or how your hand fit so perfectly in his. “And, just so you know, we’ve been married for nearly a decade now.”

“Wow,” you breathed, impressed. Neither gave the impression of being much older than yourself, but you supposed they were youthful in attitude, and that was one thing they had in abundance.

“So, what about that old diner on the corner–?”

“Yes!” you cried, brightening at the mention of your favourite spot to eat. “I love it there.”

Steve came up behind you and took hold of your other hand. “Alright, that’s settled then–off we go.”

They led you to a sleek, luxurious looking car parked a few feet from Quartet’s Tattoo. Bucky opened the back door for you, and you slipped into the leather seats with an awestruck gasp. The interior was immaculate and, for lack of a better word, rich. “Whoa–”

“We figured rather than letting that money sit and collect dust, we thought we should spend some of it,” Steve explained as he turned the ignition, and all the screens along the dash lit up. “Bucky spent more on his bike.”

You quickly looked at Bucky, who grinned proudly. “You have a bike?”

“Sure do, sweetheart. I’ll take you out one day,” he promised with another wink. 

Steve sighed. “That’s enough, you. Don’t want her passing out before dinner, at least.”

Bucky snorted a laugh, and Steve backed the car up before you were on your way to the diner. For dinner, with the two men that had asked you out on a date. The two married men. Wow, you thought to yourself. 

There was a slither of hesitance, but it was nothing next to the bounding hope of your heartbeat. For too long had you been shy and hesitant to take life by the reins, to take control and make something for yourself – your shop being the only proof that you could indeed take risks. 

That would end now, you intoned, promising yourself. Maybe this would be okay, maybe it would work. 

You could only try. 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #stucky x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #stucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #stucky fanfiction #stucky imagine #stucky fluff #allcapsbingo2023 #rookthorne's works

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Hideout (4.2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Horny Teen, part two (see previous or series)

Summary: A late-summer heat wave hits you and Steve hard.

Warnings for smut (kinda unprotected sex, momentarily--guess that's dubcon to be safe--fingering, lots of foreplay things and dirty talk but Steve can't actually talk dirty, so...hot talk? IDK, gang, I 'bout died writing this. Prepare thy loins, babes). MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this series is not for you! WC 3.1k

A/N: This part contains a cannibalized version of the original idea for this series, but since we've developed differently to this point, it is very different.

He calls ahead. For the first time in a year of visiting, he calls ahead and knows you aren’t working the night he’ll be here.

You work in the garden as long as you can stand before hopping in a cool shower. You aren’t even wrapped in a towel when the trill of your room phone—extension 14, as Steve now knows it—blares through multiple closed doors.

He’s checked-in, and in Room Two, but no pressure, if you want, if you don’t have plans, he’s here. It is the most adorable and awkwardest conversation of all time. It also never gets old to hear him scramble for the simplest of sentiments.

Translation: I’m excited to see you.

Your heart soars then immediately stalls in the stifling weather.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” you chuckle.

Of course, he opens his arms for a bear hug the instant the door labeled ‘2’ swings wide. Steve has fewer troubles with platonic affection when alone, that’s for sure, but who could blame him? You’re elated he’s here under any circumstances.

Record-setting heat this late in the summer has left all the AC units taxed to the brink, running constantly, and even with the in-room thermostat set stupidly low, a tank top and shorts is too much.

This means another first: both of you, in bed, naked.

Nothing’s happened, mind, because the swelter of the day zapped energy out of every creature for miles and miles around. The ice machine can’t keep up with eight rooms and your family needing relief from the blaze. From the bright stripe of red across Steve’s cheeks and his earthy musk, he was outside plenty. He’s wiped, too.

You wonder absently when the last time he wore cologne was and what it smelled like. Perhaps he never used it. Perhaps he misses small luxuries more than he ever realized.

Steve looks on the brink of heat-stroke, so you inched yourself onto one side of the bed to start, thinking skin-to-skin contact might be unwelcome. You barely got your palms on the sheets before he pulled you to him. You did not fight it.

It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him—and it is.

Your cheek settles on his chest, eyes watching through the sheer curtains as dusk takes over the sky, a happy man stretched like a cat beneath you, smiling, heart beat slowing in your ear. So strong, so steady, so secure.

He’s safe. He’s comfortable. That’s all that matters.

You peer up from your perch. The thin worry lines on his forehead have relaxed. He seems younger. Freedom looks good on Steve Rogers, just as good as it looks on Captain America, maybe better.

You fall asleep straddling his hips, one knee hitched so the crook of your ankle drapes his thigh, slowly pushed up and down by his deep breaths.

You’re drifting, rocked gently by powerful waves in the nothingness of your blank mind, free like him, blooming in the warmth of a bright sun embracing you.

The glow continues until Steve gently shakes you awake.

The room is pitch black, the lights of the parking lot too muted to pass through the gossamer layer over the window.

“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare,” his rough timber booms close to your ear.

“No, I—“ you wipe at your face “—I don’t think I was dreaming.”

Steve’s not so relaxed under you now. His abs quake slightly, and those slow breaths have become stunted, shallow with control.

“Did you?” you ask, looking towards his face, useless in the dark but your drowsy brain hasn’t caught up yet.

There’s a shuffling noise above you.

“Is that a ‘yes?’ Did you have a nightmare? You alright?”

The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes,” and you lift your arm to brace on his chest. It unhooks your leg from his, and the hard length of his erection moves from its perch at your ass, nudging the joint of your hip and thigh from below.

“Not—not a nightmare,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”

Steve’s voice is husky, his grip on the back of your knee tight and unyielding, keeping you from trapping him between your legs.

Your impulse is to soothe him, to tell him he is fine and it is okay to be turned on, generally, when naked and pressed to someone you find attractive—hell, you definitely are—but if he wants you to ignore it, if he’d rather not, if it’s too soon or too hot (metaphorically, physically) or just too much right now, then you respect that. None of this has ever been about making him feel like how he chooses to receive affection is wrong.

Without moving any limbs, your fingers retract and relax, a gentle, nailless scratch to his broad pec beneath your hand, and his cock twitches, tapping your leg.

“Sorry,” Steve huffs.

“Do you want me to get off of you?” You suppress the urge to make a minor edit in that statement because it’s very close to what you want to do.

The shuffling noise sounds different.

“No,” he says softly.

You slide your hand up his chest to his neck and around the back of his head, petting the corner of his bearded jaw just below his ear, careful to use as few muscles as possible.

His cock taps you again anyway. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

You ignore it, as asked, and continue scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Hey,” you start in the darkness, “is this comfortable?”

You run your fingertips over his features while he nods, following his jaw up and down. 

Unable to see, this paints the most vivid picture of Steve’s reactions. You feel the vibration of a hum through his cheek, the draw and release of his brow as you skate over his forehead. You hear his short chuckle when you brush ever-so-gently across his long lashes and boop his nose. Finally, you trace his open-mouth smile with the edge of your thumb, his ragged exhale rushing over your palm.

Tap.

“Sorry.”

“Comfy though?”

His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Yeah.”

The drag of your fingers past the edge of bristly stubble and down his throat makes him shiver.

Twitch.

“Sorry.”

You flutter across his collarbone, wondering if that means he’s ticklish on more than just his sides.

“Comfy?”

He hums. You feel it rattle your cheek as much as you actually hear it in your ears.

You continue. His corded muscles giving only slightly to the pressure of your touch. His arm, his chest, down to the hand he keeps on your leg.

Several more breathy apologies sound above you. Steve’s other arm is draped over your waist, and with every pulse of need that betrays him, his grip tightens just a little. His fingers now dig into your soft flesh absently.

It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how his abs won’t stop tensing, searching for attention where he denies it. 

You flatten your hand to his chest and make to move.

“May I?”

Steve’s swallow is louder than the ‘okay’ he returns.

You are careful not to push him in any weird angles as you raise up to your knees and straddle him, pinning his erection beneath you, not directly between your folds but nestled at the apex of your legs, just so he won’t have to worry about every involuntary poke. 

With such fresh contact, he clenches his ass hard in response, lifting your whole weight completely before he settles again. The surge of heat to your core has you biting your lip to muffle a moan.

“Comfy?” you rasp at the same moment Steve offers a strangled “sorry.”

The low, constant whine of the air conditioner fills the hollow space around your cocoon of anticipation.

“New plan,” you laugh, relaxing your fingers to splay across his warm skin, “both of us stop doing that, huh? You have nothing to be sorry for, and I’ll trust you to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.”

“So…” Steve shuffles on the sheets, but whatever he moves doesn’t affect your position. “Can I touch you?”

You bite your lip harder before answering, your voice dropping to a sweet reassurance. “Yes. Of course you can, Stevie.”

You keep your pets of his chest and arms light, trying not to tickle him. He’s always so hesitant; you’re worried the tiniest misstep will send him back into his head—not in a good way.

The silence now feels purposeful, dense with possibility, and then rough fingertips land like a foreign explorer who’s braved months at sea solely to experience this moment.

A calculated inhale and exhale rock your pelvis, a wave of nerves foaming in your gut.

He starts innocently enough, mapping your thighs, muttering something about how soft they are, but you don’t dare lean to hear him better. No sudden movements. None. Even though your skin lights up as explosive as those 4th of July fireworks you missed.

Since there’s nothing to see in the room, you feel everything.

He keeps to the periphery of you at first, abandoning your legs to brush the same arms touching him, running fingers together, separating them just as quickly, caressing your palms gently, and dragging his short nails up your wrists without pressure.

You stiffen in pleasure, fighting not to shrink away from the purest intimacy you’ve ever experienced.

His long arms reach the curve of your shoulders, flit across your collarbone, and you’re doing your damndest to keep it together, leaning your head back in lieu of talking.

Don’t scare him.

It can’t last; you’re only human.

Steve’s hands slowly descend over your breasts, middle fingers catching your peaking nipples, and a lewd and aching cry tumbles from your bitten lips.

The force of it surprises you, but more surprising still is him, unfazed, encouraged to linger.

In that low timber, he growls.

“You like that… Knew you would.”

Your body throbs, pulsing with need and emptiness.

That means he thinks of you. He’s imagined this. He’s wanted this.

Stunning electricity shoots through your body as he pinches and twists, squeezes and kneads. Nothing too harsh, but he’s highly motivated when you purr and gasp atop him.

What else does he think about doing? How long has he fantasized? Is this as good as his imagination?

Yours aren’t the only noises now. He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan.

Arousal pools at your folds, and without realizing you started to move, the shy momentum of your hips has nudged his length to lay flush with your dripping center. His tip glides over your clit.

Again and again.

Again and again.

A hot pressure builds in you, faster than ever, kerosene dumped on your wet-dreams and burned to life, a spell manifest in the night.

Steve shakes beneath the palms you brace flat on his chest, the heels digging into his diaphragm.

He moves to grip your thighs hard.

Fire spreads beneath your skin as you two pant and gasp, his whole cock slick and slotted so close to where you truly long for him.

“Wait,” Steve groans, but you can’t understand.

No one could imagine how good this feels, how much you need this, how—

He sits up to stop you, accidentally notching himself at your entrance, your residual motion sliding the thick head of him past the that first, tight ring.

Steve’s lusty moan is barely eclipsed by your own, and you’re too close to halt sheathing him within you, arms instinctively wrapping his shoulders. Desire winds the coil in your belly too taut, the thought of losing this climax unbearable.

“N-uhhh god—“

He’s too sensitive though. He flips you both so your back crashes to the soft sheets and digs his grip into your side, his other hand thumping to anchor on the headboard. Steve sucks air through his teeth like he’s afraid the faintest smell of sex will set him off.

“Don—don’t move,” he orders in thick command.

It makes things worse.

You’re so close, vaulting off the ground and suspended by legs clamped around his waist, dangling on the precipice of ecstasy. You whine and clench, totally unable to control yourself, your nails digging into his back.

Steve cries out, choked at the hilt by your desperation and lost to his own finish.

His hand races from your side to your ass. He pulls out of you only to slot himself there and thrust his cock between your cheeks, cum shooting on the sheets below.

Mindlessly, you ride the cut of his abs, his course pubic hair adding almost enough friction to keep ascending toward your own end, but the void left behind is too consuming. The fire sputters and dims.

Steve buries his face in your neck, breath cooling the sweat lining your skin as he curls away from you, overwhelmed.

“Swear I was gonna wait,” he confesses to the tender spot behind your ear. “I swear.”

“Please,” you croak, tears prickling your eyes in lament for your ruined orgasm.

“Was gonna be better. Swear I’ll do better for you.”

You grope and claw at those thick arms which hold all but his face far away. “Please,” you beg pathetically, “fucking touch me, please.”

A drawn out grunt vibrates the column of your throat.

“Y’shouldn’t have ta beg...”

He shifts to his forearm, caging you in as you plead over and over. He kneels to hover, and your thighs weakly squeeze at his own to emphasize what you need.

“Sounds so pretty when you do…”

Something between a screech and a snarl erupts from your chest.

Steve shushes you, smoothing a big hand across your damp cheek, and quietly, he commands you, “show me what to do.”

Your quivering hold guides him by the wrist down your body. Words to instruct him won’t form in your sex-steeped brain. As luck would have it, he doesn’t need specifics.

“Next time I’ll taste you.” One finger teases your folds in search of his entrance. “Next time you’ll have to beg me to stop.” Two fingers drive forward, displacing a gush of your shared juices. “So wet,” he groans, agonized to silence when you jerk his hand to thrust faster.

“More.” 

He sets a loving and delicate pace, the heel of his palm working your clit. 

Too delicate.

“More,” you gasp.

He obliges, muttering how good he’ll be to you from now on. You’ll always be first. He promises.

The fire takes over again.

“More, Stevie. Please.”

You grind down on him to prove your point, and he marvels that this isn’t too rough for you.

Each strangled breath ties your moans together in a crescendo worthy of Carnegie Hall.

“God,” he rumbles by your ear again, “I know that sound. You’re close, aren’t you?”

Steve’s pumping fingers bully your body farther and farther up the bed, using only a taste of his real strength.

Your chant of ‘yes’ catches in your taxed lungs. He doesn’t need an answer though.

The super-stretched band snaps, a plateau of peace and weightlessness tipped at the vertex until—crash—nerves are razed all along you like a carpet-bombed battlefield.

“Uhnn, is that what you’re gonna feel like around me?” He sighs at the thought and stills his hand just to commit the ripple to memory. “How’m I s’pose to last?”

You slap a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hold in your yelp of relief.

That mouth…that fucking mouth of his is a weapon all its own.

Tiny explosions wreak havoc on you, body and soul, as his fingers greedily coax you to keep coming—just a little more—just for him—one last rush—give him everything.

His lips open in your palm, but you grip his face harder.

You can’t. You can’t listen right now. You can’t hear one more dangerously sexy, completely innocent thing fall from his beautiful mouth.

Steve lets his hand go lax but doesn’t take it away from your clenched and spasming thighs.

He tries to speak again then gives up, waiting.

Finally, before you can collapse boneless to the bed, he hooks his arm behind your leg so you don’t land on the cold, cum-stained sheets.

He shakes off your forgotten grip of his jaw.

“Tops?” he whispers, patience personified in the long pause before you hum acknowledgment. “Can I kiss you?”

That fucking mouth…

There’s barely enough breath in you to make a sound, but the instant the ‘ye—’ forms in the back of your throat, Steve’s lips are on yours.

It's your first real kiss, of all the ways, after all this time, following all that.

You’d laugh if you weren’t smiling, suffocating in the gentle press that becomes deep and adoring. He kisses you thoroughly after each frantic gasp for air, savoring you, even in the reckless passion of the moment.

Steve rolls to lay you atop him again, more intimately than before. He keeps his face close, sharing breath even in the heat and stench of sex in the room, your wetness now smeared from his navel to his knee.

Turns out, he is a very good kisser, focusing on the act of physical connection. Not only do your lips touch, but he likes to nudge you into whatever minutely different position with his nose. He likes to nuzzle his beard on your sensitive skin until you giggle and squirm. He relishes you like you relish him. 

He whispers things too soft to make out at first. It takes him a while to find his voice, to push past his insecurities, to find his confidence, but eventually, you hear it.

He mumbles how he should have been better, more prepared.

You weave all your fingers through his hair, propped on his chest by your elbows, smiling so he’ll be able to tell in your tone.

“Take the win, Cap.” 

You freeze.

You’ve never called him that, and Steve stays silent for an excruciating beat.

“Sorry,” you offer in the dark, air conditioner churning out sobering drafts of reality.

Steve runs his knuckles gently in patterns across your bare back. There’s a short huff and an amused snort, you mind scrambling to plan some explanation as to why you’d haul the drama of out there into his safe space.

He guides you to settle against him again, tucking you into his strong hold with his chin resting on your forehead.

After what feels like an eternity, he simply asks, “comfy?”

A/N: In case you were wondering...

[Next part: Desperate Man, part one]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers series #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #nomad steve #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #touchstarved #touch starved!steve #touch starved #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #nomad captain america #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #hideout series

[biteofcherry]

Darkness between the stars

Darth!Steve Rogers x female reader

Author's Note: On my recent wave of feels after Anakin's cameo in Ahsoka, I couldn't stop thinking about powerful Jedi Steve Rogers, who was once galaxy's hope, turning dark. This is very loosely inspired by Anakin's storyline, without going full on Vader-look (because Steve's face is too pretty to cover it with that ugly helmet; sorry, I make the rules here).

summary: You followed your Master when he gave in to the dark side, not believing the twisted values the Emperor spew, but because you couldn't imagine being anywhere other than by Steve's side. Even if you accepted the fact Steve's heart may forever belong to the woman he once loved.

warnings: angst; hurt/comfort; soft dark!Steve Rogers; some power imbalance; choking kink; implied age gap (since Steve was the Reader's Master), but Reader is of age

The threat of thudding footsteps caused a spike of fear among the Imperial officers passing in the corridor outside - you sensed the stench of it. You could easily imagine them scattering away as quickly as possible, or trying to blend with the walls.

As cowardly as it was, it was also wise. Finding yourself in the path of an angry Sith Lord would end badly.

Thankfully, the medical droid stitching up your leg had no real human feelings, so it continued its work without a hitch even as the seal to the med bay opened and Steve stormed in.

All in his towering, dark glory.

Black robe swiping the floor, deadly lightsaber strapped to the utility belt, shiny buckles on the reinforced leather gloves on his hands. 

Darth Nomad. Sith Lord.

Once upon a time a great, idealistic Jedi Master, Steve Rogers.

Though the Jedi Order no longer existed and his path had turned dark and bloody, he still remained Steve to you.

Only in privacy. Always in your heart, even as you addressed him as Master or Nomad when other's ears and eyes were on you. He owned you; his claws ran far deeper and clutched stronger than Palpatine’s influence on him.

You harbored a crush on your Master for years, hiding your thoughts and longing every day. As well every night, when you rested in your chamber at the Jedi temple and he returned into the arms of his beloved wife in her lush suite.

When you followed Steve to kneel at the Emperor's feet and pledge loyalty to the dark side, you perfectly sold the lie of the ambitious, proud apprentice who was bitter the Jedi were too weak. You claimed to want to continue your training and be on the winning side, the side of true power.

What you truly wanted was to be with Steve, even if it was only to suffer unrequited love as you helped him drown the world in blood.

The Emperor somehow bought it, or maybe simply thought it useful to have you serve the Empire, no matter your actual motivation. 

However, Steve saw right through you.

He didn't confront you right away. Not for months. Until the two of you were on a solo quest, treading through the lush flora of an outer-rim planet, searching for an ancient artifact - much like you used to do as Jedi.

Did he catch you looking at his profile too long? Did he sense the change in your heartbeat whenever he was close? Was your Force bond so strong that he glimpsed into your desperate dreams?

Or maybe Steve simply knew you so well, after all the years. 

When he reached for you, when he touched you, you knew it could deepen your later suffering. But you still gave in, if only for one night. If only you could taste him and fall apart under his command this one time. 

But it wasn’t just one night. Nor a few chance encounters over the years. 

Whatever it was between the two of you, has become a regularity. A wicked norm that sated, as well enhanced the craving that’s been burning inside of you. It seemed there was never enough; the desire for him simmered beneath your skin every day and your desperate love pushed you further into howling darkness. 

Eerie, that love was what pushed Steve to the dark side as well. 

There were other factors, layers upon layers, but it was the heart that sealed the deal. For the both of you. 

Your tragedy was that Steve’s heart would never be yours. 

So you fed off on everything else you were given - Steve’s attention, his lust, his protectiveness. 

Which was why he stomped through the Executor like a deadly storm cloud - in his case, literally deadly - led by rage.

You knew it was mostly directed at the scum who dared to wound you, but some of it was also at you. For being careless in your small mission, which you attempted to keep secret from him. 

His black cloak floated ominously around Steve as he stepped inside; his fingers clenched into fists, stretching the leather of his gloves.

“How serious is the injury?” Even in anger, Steve’s voice remained calm. 

You opened your mouth to say it’s not that bad, but he gave you a pointed look that meant he wasn’t talking to you and that you were in serious trouble. The kind that may end with your ass bruised. 

“A level two blaster wound to the thigh,” the medical droid reported. “It missed the artery and the muscle will rebuild with the protein enhancer we’ve injected. Patient’s skin has been sutured.”

Steve’s gaze flicked to your bare leg, eyes narrowing as he assessed the dressing over your wound. The droid wasn’t bothered by it, but if a living person was here instead, they’d sweat in fear of his disapproval. 

“The patient may experience impaired mobility for the next day. No other complications are expected.”

Steve nodded, his eyes still on your leg. Though his trimmed beard gentled the sharp line of his jaw, you still saw the nervous tick of muscle. Then his gaze shifted along your half-dressed body and settled on your face. 

He stepped closer to the bed and cupped your chin. Scent of familiar leather pleasantly dispersed the annoying smell of medical antiseptics. 

“I’m gone for two days and you get yourself in trouble, Stardust.” Steve squeezed your chin a tad harder. “Should I keep you at my side at all times, like an irresponsible apprentice freshly in training?”

“Or-” he leaned in; the blue of his eyes searing like his old lightsaber- “maybe I’ll confiscate your weapon and keep you as a bedwarmer only?”

Before you managed to utter I’m sorry for failing, Master, Steve was lifting you in his arms. Stealing your breath with the gesture.

One arm beneath your knees, the other under your back. Your heart stopped for a moment, then rushed in a rapid pattern as he carried you out of the med bay.   

It had to be a bizarre sight - the Dark Lord of the Sith, most feared in the whole galaxy Darth Nomad, who snapped necks with a flick of a wrist; was carrying a woman through the Star Dreadnought.

However, no one dared to stare, or even flick a curious glance your way. 

Steve showed softness when you both laid spent after fucking, or simply wrapping an arm around your middle when you were sleeping, but he never carried you like that. 

Even when he wanted you in a certain position when he fucked you, he either told you to do it the right way, or used the Force to bend your body how he wished. 

Being cradled in his arms, out in the open, soothed that deep longing for true care on his part. Taunted you with deep feeling that you knew would never be real.

“Something’s troubling you.” Steve stated when the double-sealed entrance to his (and yours) chambers closed behind you. “And it’s not your injury, I sense.”

He crossed the space to the bedroom, where cold blue light changed into unsettling red that you learned to associate with safety. Black and red used to mean the enemy, the danger, even death, but Steve made you love it. Conditioned you to see it as the setting you belonged in. 

“Well, my failure in successfully finishing my deal on Serenno,” you shrugged, but instantly cringed as you felt that lie failed miserably.

You weren’t a bad liar. When it came to Steve, however, it was as if the ability was malfunctioning. 

At least ever since he slipped his gloved finger between your lips for the first time and softly commanded you to admit how much you craved him.  

You yelped as Steve suddenly dropped you onto the bed. The muscle in your thigh spasmed, sending a painful jolt. Fingers gripping the dark sheets, you breathed through the wave of ache as you lifted your gaze to look at Steve.

His black robe dropped to the floor. He set his lightsaber down on the black, lacquered table, then unbuckled his utility belt. It fell to the floor with a dull thud. 

“You do not lie to me, Stardust,” Steve’s glare was a warning as he braced his hands on his hips and waited for your honesty.

The reason hidden deep in your heart could bring you more trouble than withholding the truth from Steve. You feared speaking it aloud may cut you out of Steve’s life completely, if he learned that you were desperate for so much more than his cock. 

But there was no way of hiding it from him for long. Not when he was on a hunt to rip that truth out of you.

Steve would get to it one way, or another. One could perhaps be a sexually torturous way, but there was also a chance of him reaping it from your mind with the Force. 

You took a deep breath, forcing a cold sheet to form around your fluttering heart and make you seem indifferent to your own emotions, like you did at the beginning of your life on the dark side. Your fingers tightened their grip on the smooth, dark sheets.

“Your gesture startled me,” you admitted. “I know I’m of certain value to you, as a lover and as a former Padawan. Being carried like that, like you cared, incited foolish thoughts in my head.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed as a frown marred his forehead. His head tilted slightly to the side, his gaze never allowing yours to drop. 

“Elaborate,” he requested, but you knew that despite the calm tone it was a command. 

“It almost ignited a stupid hope to have your heart,” you spat out bitterly, “which would never happen, I’m aware, Master. I know there was only one woman who had your heart and it lies buried with your wife.” 

With the woman who wasn’t strong enough to pull him off that edge of destruction, nor had the guts to fall with him and rule by his side. 

Steve’s hand shot forward, fingers curled in an open grip. The yank of incredibly powerful Force pulled your body upwards, as if you were a featherlight ragdoll. He made your body flow in the air, inches above the floor. 

The pressure around your neck cinched. He wasn’t touching you, yet it felt as if Steve’s gloved fingers were wrapped around the front of your neck, squeezing your throat. 

It spiked fear and adrenaline, but also roused your body in ways no other lover ever could. 

Your body froze in place right in front of Steve, the Force still keeping you hanging in the air. 

“You are right to say my heart was buried with my wife.” Steve growled through clenched teeth. “It’s left in the past that we burned to the ground.” 

A gasp escaped your lips as Steve’s hand firmly wrapped around your neck. Though he still used the Force to move your body, it was also his sheer strength behind his movement as he walked you backwards until your back met the wall.

“You’re not in my heart, Stardust, because I no longer have one,” his hot breath tickled your cheek as Steve’s face inched even closer. 

“You’re not my love. You’re more. You’re  m i n e.”

What filled your heart felt similar to the overwhelming lightness you used to be connected with, once upon a time.

The Force eased back and your body sagged, but Steve’s hand was still firm on your throat. Holding you up as your toes tried to reach the floor and give you some support. 

No, he wouldn’t let you down easily. He would drive in the point that he was your support. He was your sustenance. He would hold you up, as well destroy you. 

“You’re my fucking everything!” 

Steve bit your bottom lip, making you cry out at the sudden sting. Then the flick of his tongue soothed it before he swiped between your parted lips. The way Steve kissed you was more consuming than the darkness you dwelled in; more burning than the lightsaber’s blade. 

When he pulled away, your lips were swollen and tingling, and your cunt was pulsing with need. 

“You’ll repent for endangering what’s mine-” Steve’s chuckle was a brush of tempting darkness as his free hand slid up your wounded thigh- “tomorrow, when it’s fully healed.” 

“Yes, Master,” you moaned as his fingers changed their course and teased your folds beneath the short, medical robe. 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #Darth!Steve Rogers #Jedi!Steve Rogers #dark Steve Rogers #(In the aspect of being a Sith Lord) #soft dark Steve Rogers #(when it comes to reader) #Darkness between the stars

[eloquentreverie]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing: nomad!steve rogers x female reader

warning: established relationship, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), steve being soft.

summary: Your soldier finally comes home to you in autumn.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Autumn in New York always brings a sense of familiarity to Steve. There's that crisp, refreshing air, the leaves changing colors and falling onto the sidewalks of Brooklyn. It's a welcome sight for his war-torn mind. He takes one final breath as he approaches the apartment complex, cutting the engine and nudging the brake on the bike. He walks up the steps and makes his way into the building. The scent of hot cider hovers in the air as he walks in the door, scanning the room for his girlfriend.

He can't help but grin when he spots her nestled in a chair by the window, cozy under a red and black plaid blanket. He knows waking her up is wrong, but being away has been challenging. His heart skips a beat as his knuckles lightly brush against the apples of her cheeks. It's been a while since he's been able to see her, and he can't help but want to touch her now.

Y/N's eyes flutter open, and despite her blurry vision, she can make out the shadowy image of the man bent over her. "Steve?" Y/N whispers, staring in disbelief. Steve greets her with a warm smile and gently brushes his knuckles against her jaw. "Hey, sweetheart!" Y/N's eyes widen, and she throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He holds her close, wrapping his strong arms around her back. A warm, tingly feeling spreads through her body. Taking a moment to cherish the moment, she sinks her fingers into his tousled hair before pulling away slightly to study his face.

It's not a dream, and he's there. "You're really here," she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief and joy. His warm hand holds hers, and they lean their foreheads together, breathing each other in. "I'm here," Steve promises, his voice low and gentle. He leans towards her, and their lips meet in a tender, soft kiss. The warmth in his breath and the gentle touch of his lips fill Y/N with sweetness and hope.

He wants to hold her close, to feel her skin against his, to embed the moment in his memory and replay it repeatedly in his mind. Y/N pulls away for a moment, looking up at him and noticing the smeared lip gloss on his mouth, a small giggle escaping her lips. It reminds Steve that they're real, that this moment is real, and that she's really here with him.

"What? What is it?" Steve asks, brushing her curls from her face. 

Y/N's voice is a mix of happiness, relief, and the tiny edge of sadness that always follows joy. "I've been dreaming of this. Touching you, seeing you again... I missed you so much." With those words, she feels a warm glow in her chest, a sense of coming home. Steve cups her face, his lips meeting hers again with a tender warmth that seems to sink into her bones. His hands slide up and down her waist, and she breathes in his scent, reveling in his closeness.

She pulls away again, her lips twisting into a big smile. She takes his hands in her own, her gaze laced with love and deep admiration for her super-soldier. "How long can you stay?" Her voice is soft, almost inaudible. She tries not to assume the worst, scolding herself for thinking too far ahead instead of cherishing this moment. But it's been so long since she's had this moment with him that she can't help but feel worried that it might be fleeting. And if it is, she wants to prepare herself for the heartbreak that always comes with his departure.

Steve gives her a sympathetic grin, his rough and calloused hand still caressing the supple skin of her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’ll never leave you again. I promise," he tells her, leaning down to leave a kiss on her forehead in an attempt to calm her nerves. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to. I love you.”

She takes a deep breath, one she hadn't realized she'd been holding in all this time, and chuckles, shaking her head. "Gosh, this still feels so unreal. You don’t have to make anything up to me. What matters is that you’re here." The words seem to hang in the air for a moment before she looks down at their now intertwined hands. "You look tired. Do you need to rest, or do you want some food? I could cook us up something."

A wave of exhaustion washes over him, and he rubs his temple as a headache grows. He'd been so caught up in the moment, adrenaline and happiness rushing through his veins that he'd hardly realized how tired he was from the recent battle. “I'd like that very much, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, his hand falling from her cheek as he pulls away for a moment, glancing toward the kitchen. “Do you need me to help you out?” he asks, his brows pulled together as he looks down at her.

She pauses, noticing his tired eyes and exhausted demeanor. A small pout forms on her lips as concern washes over her features. “Steve, are you sure? If you want to take a nap right now, we can always eat later.”

A soft sigh escapes him before he nods, a small smile curling on his lips. “You're right. I'm just happy to be with you again. I'm so worn out, darling, but I'd rather be here with you than anywhere else.” He whispers quietly, closing his eyes and shrugging. His rough, calloused fingers grip her chin, and his gaze shifts to her lips.

“Well, how about this?” she begins, reaching out and taking his hands in hers. “Why don’t we take a nap together? Then, when you’re rested, we can have dinner. Sound good?” She asks, still speaking in a soft tone as she tugs on his arm, pulling him toward their bedroom.

“That sounds perfect,” he nods, a grin spreading across his face. He wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms. He can’t remember how many nights he’s dreamt about touching her, holding her. Steve follows her into the bedroom, his grin only widening. Everything is right where he left it. The smell of fresh linen greets him, along with gray blankets and ivory sheets, the wooden nightstands adorned with picture frames of the two of them. To the right is his desk, which is a mess of papers and his old sketchbooks.

Y/N walks a few steps toward the dresser and starts rummaging through some of his old clothes. After a few moments, she pulls out a worn blue t-shirt and some gray sweatpants. She can feel Steve’s gaze on her before she looks up. He takes in her outfit: a dark green t-shirt, a gray cardigan, and black sweatpants. His eyes move up to her face, her curls brushing against the top of her shoulders. He traces her features, engraving them into the back of his mind forever. His expression is filled with love and adoration for her.

After a few minutes, she turns to him and hands him his clothes. “Thank you, Y/N.” He sets down the pile of clothes on top of the dresser before he begins to strip down. He starts with the gun holster, then his utility belt. She tries not to get distracted as she pulls down a few of the covers, but then she notices his tired fingers fumbling with the buckle of his trousers.

“Here, do you mind if I?” Her words hand in the air and as she looks up. She smiles, placing her hands over his. Their eyes lock. Steve gives her a gentle nod, and she undoes the belt and unzips his pants. She takes his hand and leads him to the bed. Once there, they both climb into bed, their bodies tangled together as they cuddle.

Slowly, the rhythm of his breathing changes and she listens to him as he begins to drift off. As soon as the room falls silent, she looks up, focusing on the ceiling, and listens. Then, her fingertips dance over his torso as she tries to commit to memory the moment they were sharing together. A moment, she didn't want to end. Steve sighs into her, his hand traveling up and down her back until she feels his lips land a light kiss on her forehead and she hears his whispered 'I love you.' Y/N sinks deeper and settles against his chest, eyes growing heavy, until she finds the sleep they both need.

The two finally settle into a deep and blissful slumber. Unbeknownst to the super soldier, it will be the greatest sleep of his life. The two of them rested until late evening. The sun had set and she groaned as she stirred from her slumber, her stomach growling. Her eyes fluttered open, feeling his arms still tightly wound around her waist. A smile rested on his lips as she pecked his cheek. "Wake up, Stevie," she whispered in his ear, eliciting a hum from him as his eyes creaked open. "How about breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed?" He smiled brightly and got on top of him.

Steve leaned on his elbows as she giggled at him. Her lips were pursed, thinking if she should let him get his way. And in the end, she decided to give in. "Alright, fine. You stay here and I'll go cook us some dinner." She tried getting off him, but her mission proved quite difficult for the blond hero, gripping her tight so that she wouldn't slip off. Y/N could feel his cool blue gaze baring into her. Her face was hot and crimson. And he did everything that he possibly could to make her want him back, want to stay and have him touch her all over. "Not just yet. One more kiss," he demanded, his tone low and husky.

With an exasperated huff, Y/N threw her hands in the air. She knew that it wouldn't end here, and once Steve got her all hot and bothered, he wouldn't leave her alone until she was done. Until he's had her several times to the point that she was utterly spent. Y/N felt Steve's fingers crawl underneath the hem of her shirt. "Steve," she whined with a small laugh. "I'm hungry."

With this statement, the superhero propped himself up on his elbows and cocked a brow, licking his lower lip. A subtle movement to entice her. "And I'm horny."

Groaning once more as he touched her, she nearly gave in, wanting nothing more than to strip him bare, jump on him and screw him till sundown, and that was saying a lot. But before that happened, the both of them needed nourishment before the ravenous wolf inside him turned on her. She gently pushed his hands away, grinning down at him. "After dinner. I need to have my strength if we're going to do strenuous activities. Right?" she teased before pulling away and rising from the bed. Y/N grinned even more at the way his face fell and the small frown that marred his pretty boy face, looking as if someone kicked his favorite puppy. As she walked towards the bedroom door, his hand jutted out.

"Why not just grab some chips? Isn't that good enough?" The blond practically pleaded as she got ready. Y/N gave his toned frame a mischievous glance over her shoulder and smirked. "So impatient. I think I'm gonna need more than chips. Looks like you're just going to have to wait." She ran a hand down his bare chest before slipping out of his grasp and walking toward the kitchen.

Steve sighed, shaking his head but then, a light bulb went off in his head. If she was going to make him wait then he'd do everything in his power to tease her.

Meanwhile, Y/N worked on warming up leftover chicken pot pie in the oven. For the first time in months, she could enjoy some downtime in their home, not having a care in the world except Steve and her alone together. When it was his first arrival home after months of her dealing with the trauma, her heart, and mind swirled with emotions. After weeks of trying to accept what he was doing for others while giving no regard to his own well-being, her annoyance soon gave away. But no matter what, he always showed that her well-being is what is most important to him, constantly worrying about her needs, always finding ways to be a part of her life regardless.

Her thoughts took the best out of her. All it did was make her think about what happens when he's not here, when her dreams and wishes collide with reality. As she pondered about her life before Steve, he snuck up behind her and pulled her toward him. In an effort not to frighten her, he reached out and moved her curly locks over her shoulder and placed his mouth next to her ear, planting kisses on the curve of her jaw, inching his mouth down to the base of her neck.

"You smell so good." he complimented her. "It's intoxicating. The moment you left the bed, I just couldn't resist. I got up immediately and followed you all the way here. Did you know that?" Y/N turned off the oven after noticing the golden brown color of the pastry, closing her eyes as he grazed his mouth with hers. She turned around to face him and held his gaze.

"You're being distracting," she said with a small grin, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt the heat of his bare chest radiating against her tank top. "I can see that." Steve leaned toward her again, whispering softly. 

"But I don't think you really have any control of what I'll do to you right now. You had your fun waking me up all by yourself. And now, you don't seem so excited to keep the fun going. I think I'll have to convince you." His teeth grazed the skin underneath her jaw, lightly sinking into her soft flesh. Y/N could hardly keep herself from moaning, feeling all of her nerve endings firing up from the way his hands wandered all around her body, focusing solely on pleasuring her. She could almost get lost in his hypnotic voice, only drawing her attention from his gentle bite on her neck.

Steve licked where he bit, massaging her hips with a glimmer of pure desire shining in his crystal blues. "We could have so much more fun somewhere more private..." he murmured against her neck. Y/N brought him closer to her, entangling her fingers in his blonde locks. Steve met her half-lidded gaze and smiled mischievously. "So what'll it be, princess? Your bed or the floor?"

Moments like these always remind him why he fights so hard. How just those sparkling doe-eyes make every battle worth every bruise, scar, and cut.

A small smirk crept up on her face. She turned off the stove before walking back to him. "Our bed." she responded before she poked his chest, "but you owe me real food afterward." She warned, her eyes filled with mirth. Steve chuckled softly, kissing her. The woman instantly melted into his loving embrace.

"So you'd rather lie in our bed while you devour me in whole? Now how does that sound like a loss? Sounds like the only win if I have any say in this." His lips collided with her jaw before leading her backward towards the bedroom. Her heart is beating rapidly, anticipating his next touch. "Just hurry before you miss the real feast." she managed to blurt out. He never makes her wait long. Never does, especially right now.

Steve crashes his lips on hers, kissing her hard with their hands frantically exploring the other. Once he's sure they're too preoccupied, he lets one arm leave her waist for a split second. Y/N thought nothing of it until she heard the soft click of their bedroom lock as she moaned into the kiss. He pushes her further inside, backing her towards their massive queen-size bed, nearly stumbling over it as the edge hits the back of her knees. Steve breaks the kiss to hold her up. "Sssh baby, just lie on your back, I've got you." She swallowed hard and slowly lowered down, resting her head on his pillows. "You didn't have to lock the door." Y/N felt somewhat silly as her face was heated, and she noticed he'd locked the door after.

"It's not you. I did that, because I don't want anything else," he uttered. The lights illuminate his features, reflecting like an angel before her very eyes. Her hair splayed out on their soft and inviting linen, gazing back up at Steve as he straddles her, kissing down her neck and chest as he starts to tear away her sweatpants.. "All I want in my life is you and nobody else. So for one night, I'll block out the rest."

He'd rid her of the black pants, and threw them across the room in a fury. "You're the only one  I crave on these cold autumn nights." Steve grinned as his fingers traced her inner thigh, so close yet so far away from the spot between her legs that craves his attention the most.

"Steve," He gazes at her through thick golden lashes. She reaches forward and clasps his face between her dainty fingers. Y/N doesn't need words, she's known this all along. They only ever want to do right by one another and each day she is filled with more and more love to shower him. "Show me then. Show me that I'm the center of your universe." she gasps as his eyes meet her's, laced with pure lust. His head was practically in-between her legs now, her arousal smelling just as sweet as it tasted as she spread her legs and lay flat on the mattress.

The warm orange light illuminated the curve of her face as his vision drunkenly scans from the crown of her head all the way down to the bend in her knee before his hands sweep beneath her soft supple flesh to prop up the back of her leg.

A sharp gasp of excitement filled the room the moment his head dipped between her thighs. The sensation shot down her spine, eliciting goosebumps to crawl along her exposed flesh. He keeps them hooked in his arms, forcing her hips to press firmly against his mouth. A soft squeak eked from her lips once his tongue wedged itself between her slick entrance and his upper lip before pecking a trail of small kisses to her sensitive bundle of nerves, just the mere breath coming from his soft thin lips causing it to quiver with pleasure.

She can almost hear her heartbeat pulsating through her temple. The sweet ecstasy runs straight from her womb to her toes, intensified each time he dips his tongue inside to taste her again, knowing all of the right places to lick her like a peach dripping from its juices. One hand crawls back up her quivering thighs and brushes over the folds of her labia, squeezing them between his teeth in unison with his skilled tongue.

She wasn't the least bit prepared when a finger entered her wet cunt. He thrusts, pumping two digits inside of her without warning, and she quivers, becoming unable to hold herself up any longer as she lies limp from the magic that coursed through her body. His hair tickled her skin while he fucks her with his mouth and fingers, her body responding with pleasure beyond comparison. He pauses briefly, inhaling her natural aroma and basking in her heavenly essence, and whispers into her heat, "Don't cum until I say so."

 Y/N sucks in a breath as his velvety voice dances along her senses before Steve closes the space between his mouth and her aching center once more. "Don't worry, I'll make it happen." Steve winked while his tongue swept her cunt again, beginning a slow, teasing dance upon her sensitive bud. He turns his wrist slightly to plunge another thick finger, tucking it along the others while the muscle around him trembled and clamped like a vise.

As his fingers pumped within the confines of her trembling flesh, the rough part of his lips glides smoothly over the smoothness of hers. Her breaths turned erratic from his relentless pleasurable torture, teetering on the edge until he finally decides she's earned her right to cum all over his fingers. Her hand shot out in search of his, gripping onto him tightly with all of her might as though their lives depended on it.

He strokes the fleshy bit on the roof of her inner walls, pushing against it over and over again, using the stiff tip of his tongue to roll over the plump nub. He wants her. He always does. All of him and all of his heart. Witnessing the woman he loves let herself go right in front of his eyes like an explosion of fire is enough for him. A complete revelation.

He takes great care to lower her body, which had risen on its own accord the more he stroked the source of her pleasure. His lips would occasionally lose their purchase on her soaking clit in the moments between, but he would always kiss his way back to her heated center, regaining a steadier rhythm again and again. It was with another tender flick of the tongue that her pleasure overtook and washed away the last remnants of awareness, leaving her a writhing mess of sweat-beaded skin and high-pitched mewls.

Y/N sighed with a shaky breath. Steve swallowed every drop as he drank deep of her sweet juices.

Her fingers brushed through her lover's hair as her mind attempted to find a solid anchor in the tumultuous sea of her orgasm. His pace relents just enough, and his eyes slide up to check on the boneless pile. The blond-haired male kissed a smoldering path to her belly button before pulling up the hem of her tank top and over her head before his mouth found one of her breasts. As his mouth opened around one breast, his teeth sunk into it before rolling the nipple within her warmth. "Just one moment, sweetheart,"

A soft groan escaped her mouth. Her entire body writhed against him, trapped between the relief she felt and the anticipation of having to wait any longer. In her state, it was impossible for her to register the meaning of his words, but she would surely have nodded to even an insincere affirmation.

"Steve, I can't wait any longer. I need you." she croaked between ragged breaths. Her trembling hands run through his soft golden hair, playing with his strands in the heat of the moment. He chuckled quietly at her whines, pausing to savor the beauty lying under him.

After kissing her stomach, he lifted his head with a wide grin on his face. Patience, pretty girl, we're only beginning. I wanna take my time. Taste and kiss every square inch of your body."

The dark look in his sapphire-blue eyes made the tightness inside her almost unbearable, but the thought was more than welcomed. Before she could so much as respond to his words, his teeth dug in her plump flesh again, drawing a strained hiss as he sucks it back into his hot mouth, soothing the nip immediately after.

His pace was agonizingly slow at the sight of his darling below him, glistening in the orangey hue. It was painful, yet in an entirely delicious manner, she tried with her will not to explode on him right there and then.

"Patience," He repeated before lifting her leg with his hand before bending her knee. Gently, and still with all the sensuality in the world, and trailed light nips and kisses all along the side of her knee. Y/N's fingertips comb through his hair before resting upon the broadness of his shoulder. "You don't get to see this view enough."

What he gives her, the loving admiration he has to offer, no one would ever compare. No one but him, who always, and forevermore will own her whole heart, unconditionally and in the good times. Y/N never questioned this in the slightest. They have a perfect love, so rare and unknown to many in a cruel world.

"But God help me." he said, now slowly inching up towards her stomach, trailing up with wet kisses, his eyes still admiring the smooth curves and hills of her body, completely bare beneath him. "How I wanna feast on you forever. And feel the sweet ache of your body after, just in case I forget... I want to remember all of it, sweetheart."

Steve hooked a hand around her midsection and lifted her body up and off the sheets, helping her on top of him in one smooth movement. Just as he guided her, a firm yet gentle grip on her arm, holding her hand behind his neck as he encouraged her body up to him, as she easily straddled his broad and naked form.

Y/N's forehead pressed into his collar, lips lightly ghosting and gasping with each one. The unyielding rock of their pelvis' rocking in synchrony, the grip she'd regained on him returned, fingers digging into his shoulder and with the other on his hair, massaging him between soft murmurs.

"Yeah?" His fingertips slid up and down, mapping and massaging the tense muscles between her shoulder blades, dragging over and cupping the base of her neck on each upward pass. As he traveled up to the nape, he simultaneously nuzzled her ear, moving up so that his stubble scratched the thin layer of skin there, and carefully applied pressure that soothed the raw sensation away. 

She was drunk, beyond words, nothing was going to fix the raw burn her vocal cords received any time she cried out too soon. All the same, she was right where he wanted her. "Mhm." the low rumble of her lover's voice against her warm skin confirmed, one hand finding its way over hers and twisting in her locks, wrenching her face away from her solace and kissing her more aggressively than before.

Y/N matched it's hunger and was the first to take the lead. His efforts had been thoroughly noticed and enjoyed. Steve reciprocated her actions, but was too focused on her legs straddled above his. "See that?" His voice was hoarse and his tone smug.

He slipped a finger past her folds, savoring her wetness in the absence of her mouth, and she knew just as she threw her head back the exact scene he'd mentioned. All but his length, and the hand caressing and parting her legs, and her movements riding along. Only barely able to keep from crying out as the feeling took over her senses again.

But she did her damnedest not to keep that visual from him as her legs continue riding, his length sliding across his stomach in tandem. He was warm and slick, the same salty tang from his skin on her tongue a beautiful echo of her own wetness, mixing and joining in unison when she dragged herself back up, rocking her weight backward over his cock, shuddering as her own arousal came full circle and grazed her clit.

She was fast and efficient when her patience came to an end. Slick as ice, and just as impatient. He slid deep inside her when her grip took a firm handle on his rigid form. Even with the slippery mixture of fluids from her being, it took a steady rock against the head of his erection before her swollen and bruised labia gave way enough to slip his thick head in. "Baby, hold still." He'd sat forward, bringing the length of his torso against the malleable muscles of her thighs and ass.

She knew exactly how he was feeling now, his sounds a beautiful revelation of his ecstasy as it was, but it also drove her absolutely wild. Her face dropped back into his collarbone where it was a safe space for her. His hot breath beat in time with their skin against hers, creating a growing haze of dew that she burrowed her cheek to, whimpering as a smile grew from his gleeful grunts of his sweet girl fucking herself on his lap, sinking as deep as possible to fill him to her brim, just before doing it once more.

His hand landed at her side as his head fell backward to the pillows. As she continued to grind upon his throbbing cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel incredible." The pitch of his voice heightened slightly on the final syllable, and her knees wobbled in kind from the sound alone.

As his girth split her to her core she clung on. "I...It's s-so fuckin deep baby. Please...I d-don't think I c-can hold myself up."

Her hips faltered once, a weak moment lost as his fingers threaded in her hair. Instead of clutching him tighter, Y/N moved to touch the headboard and took the support given there instead. Pushing away, she held his eyes while she brought her ass backward and lifted up just enough, guiding his head against her entrance, and teased her hot folds in and out, up, then back in once more, letting a fresh wash of wetness trickle over her thighs and down onto his in an act so dirty and tempting and erotic she saw him falter and quake and dig in deeper for control to keep his place within her. It was one she hoped he never forgot. "Do I drive you crazy?"

"Mmm. You have no idea, darling." Steve laughed breathlessly with a wild look in his eyes. The telltale change had come and taken over his body language completely. She tried to tease him at the best of times, but tonight it had backfired.

The brief loss of contact made her aching womb stretch to full attention. The involuntary gasp emitting her lips pulled them both away. A chisel would not be as sharp as the bite of his nails as he grasped her hips again, seizing control with little restraint to do so.

Though he was rough, Y/N found great pleasure in it, just as her legs bounced at his sides. "Goddamn."

Her nails left trails down his chest and she's left scratching on his navel, as her voice gave up from the whimpers she'd done nothing to stifle. Steve pushed harder against her swollen and tingling opening, sinking to her womb with little room to breathe or think or put any kind of distance from his cock as their hips began a natural dance to keep themselves perfectly together and moving and pushing as one. He rolled and pushed and thrust upward until the last bit of air was knocked free from her lungs with the sudden slam.

A collection of various curses spilled through the room, no telling whose mouth had screamed or shouted until she bottomed out at his lap and buried his head under the press of her breast and fingers in the now dampened length of his hair. All coherent thought had stopped functioning altogether as he began to thrust himself and pound his girl like her heart would have exploded had he kept with his pace a moment later.

Nothing registered apart from his breathy and sporadic moans as he claimed her again and again in their own silent, little ritual, something sacred, like an engagement neither would dare reveal or show the other.

Eventually, she felt her body tense, a telltale sign she was on the edge. He groaned through gritted teeth as their movements quicken, pushing both to the limits of their physical stamina until, without warning,

"Shit!"

The climax shattered any hold she had of her thoughts, nerves exploding with a euphoric haze to render them both senseless. Y/N wrapped a quivering hand around his bicep as she used it for a grip. Her lips find the shell of his ear as Steve bucked his hips wildly beneath her. "Stevie...Steve..." she breathed in a delusional state, seeing lights, and feeling stars, all while keeping as much composure as she can. Though not very effective as the stream of her juices flooded her and her walls, pulsating at the intrusive thickness of his girth as it continues to pound recklessly as she continues her erratic screams and pleas to him.

Finally, she'd shattered. Coming completely undone. Free. To a man with his gaze fixed unblinkingly, a sheer sign of devotion, at her twitching body. The satisfaction was indescribable and everlasting. She collapsed beside him on the bed, trying to catch her breath. Her body curled against him. Her hand rested against his chest, his skin coated with a sheen of sweat, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing becoming steadier.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Y/N whispered before breaking into a fit of breathless giggles. Steve looks down on her fondly, loving her child-like demeanor and carefreeness after an intense session like that, before following in and matching her happy tone as they share a lazy, passion-fueled kiss in an equally lazy fashion. His own happy giggle tumbled over a soft smile. Y/N eventually rolled her head away with a faint huff.

His nose brushed the tender spot behind her ear, which caused her entire body to quiver from the shock and heat radiating on her neck. When he pressed another warm, open-mouthed kiss there, her breath hitched in her chest.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered. The warmth of his breath blew into the damp skin beneath his lips, sending another wave of goosebumps through her. Her skin was so sensitive. So raw. But oh so amazing. He spoke again, barely audible, as if he was having a conversation with himself. "I love you. I love you."

Y/N turned her head and peered at him through heavy lids. "I love you too," she cooed back, her voice hoarse.

Her head rested in the crook of his neck, and the two laid together, cuddled and content, the sound of their breaths and their heartbeats melding together. Y/N fell asleep before the last remnants of her high had faded, and Steve was still awake.

All night he lay, listening to the sound of her breathing until finally, he got the rest and relief he deserved in his sleep.

The next afternoon, the cold air nipped at their skin. The two of them sat in the park, watching the changing leaves fall. Steve's arm was draped over her shoulder as she sipped the warm cup of cider they had gotten from a vendor a few moments ago. A few minutes later, Steve broke the silence.

"I need to tell you something," he whispered, glancing off at the park's pond.

Y/N shifted beside him, concern written over her face, and placed the cup on the space beside her. "Is everything alright, Stevie?"

"These past few months have been hell without you, and I can't help but think of what the future brings. You make me feel alive. When I'm with you, I'm content. At home. And that's with or without you. I think I'd always want this forever," Steve paused, his tongue darting out to nervously lick his bottom lip, sending a familiar sensation crawling up her spine. He shifted, pulling a small black box out of his pocket. His breath caught, his eyes darting up to hers. "I know it's too dangerous right now, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Y/N stared at him, her eyes widened with shock as tears started welling up in the corner of her eyes. Her hands covered her mouth. "Oh my god." Her heart thundered in her ears as he pulled the ring from the box, the silver band shimmering in the light, the white diamonds reflecting a bright glow. "Yes, Steve, yes! Yes, I'll marry you!" she cried out, throwing her arms around him.

The couple shared a deep, loving kiss, full of love and adoration for one another. "I love you, sweetheart," Steve murmured into her ear. "I'm never going to stop loving you. You're my forever. My home."

She pulled away, a wide smile stretching across her face. "I love you too, Steve. You have my heart, forever."

The two fell back into each other's arms, sharing a soft kiss as the leaves fell around them, envisioning their future together.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x yn #nomad steve rogers #nomad steve rogers x you #nomad steve rogers x female reader #nomad steve rogers x yn #nomad steve rogers fanfic #nomad steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #smut and fluff #steve rogers oneshot. #mywritings.

[imyourbratzdoll]

I would like a Chris Evans x reader.

Them being best friends, always very flirtatious with each other on red carpets and interviews but nothing more.

After the SMA announcement they and friends go celebrate at a club. They're dancing/ him grinding on her, enjoying being so close to her,head nestled on her neck, kissing her neck..

Club goers taking pics and videos, socials and media going crazy...

Reader is leaving with Mackie, they want Chris to party with his boys. Before reader leaves Chris hugs her from behind, kisses her cheek, grabs her hips and whispers I love you in her ear. Reader smiling, stroking his arm, leaving his grip, leaves with Mackie.

Next morning both their phones blow up... Don't know what happens next?!

Something like this?

Thanks!!!

hello, sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you like nomad steve.

summary - you go out celebrating with your best friend, steve rogers, and end up waking up with some news about yourself.

warning - word whore is used, flirty friends, maybe more, fluff.

slight 18+ but not really? the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @firefly-graphics and @newlips

You felt excited as you got ready. Your best friend Steve Rogers had been announced the sexiest man alive, which called for celebration. You check how well your black corset-like jumpsuit fits perfectly against your form. Before leaning forward, swiping a deep red lipstick across your plump lips, and checking to ensure nothing is on your teeth and everything is perfect. This was Steve’s night, and you didn’t want to ruin it by looking like trash next to him.

As you leave your room, a squeal leaves your lips as someone’s arms wrap around your form, preventing you from crashing into them. A smile forms on your face as Steve’s scent fills you, causing you to hit his chest. “You asshole. Scared the shit outta me.” As you look up, you are met with his smirking face, and his eyes slowly move down your body.

“From where I’m standing, you should be named sexiest woman alive. Don’t you look gorgeous, babydoll.” Steve spins you around, shamelessly admiring the view. “You ready to go?” You nod, feeling goosebumps erupt throughout you. 

Steve’s hands grip your hips as he grinds into you, the beat of the music and alcohol flowing through your bodies. He nestles his face into your neck. His beard rubbing against your sensitive skin makes you feel tingly inside. Your core begins to throb when he begins to kiss along your skin, softly sucking and nibbling on your sweet spot. “You smell so damn good, babydoll.”

Your hands move behind you, tangling your fingers into his hair as you grind your ass into his growing bulge. Soft whimpers escape you, and both of you ignore the flashes of cameras and fans recording you, too lost in one another to care.

Steve and you would continue dancing to the music for a while, sticking close to one another, flirting and touching each other up. To everyone, that was normal, as Steve and you were known to flirt on red carpets and in interviews, constantly dismissing the questions of relationships and hookups. 

You and Steve finally walk over to the group, having a few drinks before you stand. Wishing everyone a good night whilst squeezing Steve’s shoulder and whispering that he should stay and catch up with everyone. Sam also stands, “I can take you. I haven’t been drinking much, and I also promised my girl I’d be home early.” The group nods, saying their goodbyes.

But as you turn to leave, Steve stands. Grabbing your body and pulling you against him, “I’m going to miss you so much, baby doll.” His hands slowly move down your body, causing you to squirm before he rests them on your hips, gripping them as his lips brush against your ear. “Text me when you get home so I know you're okay.” You nod, knowing you will miss his presence when you leave. Steve leans down and kisses your cheek before moving back to your ear. “Good girl, I love you.”

You smile softly, your hands coming up to stroke his arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before you leave his grasp, quickly leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth before heading over to where Sam stands. The two of you ignore the cameras as you hop into the car and drive off.

“Thanks, Sam. Get home safe to your girl, okay?” You lean into the window, smiling at him.

“Will do! Make sure you text Steve when you get inside, or he’ll send a search party.” You chuckle, remembering the last time you forgot to let him know you got home safely, pushing off the car. You wave and head up to your door, and once Sam sees you’ve gotten inside, he drives off. 

You smile softly as Steve’s scent is still on you. His touch can still be felt as if he’s standing right behind you. You take your phone out and shoot him a quick message before heading into your room and strip, changing into softer comfortable clothes and then heading into the bathroom to remove your make-up. As you enter your room, your phone pings causing you to check it, and a smile appears when it’s Steve telling you how much he loves you and, hopefully, he’ll be home soon to cuddle. Crawling into bed, you plug your phone in and fall into a peaceful sleep.

You groan as ringing pierces through your ears, wondering who the fuck could be calling you. Your eyes slowly open, blinking away the blurriness before you try and reach for your phone but find yourself trapped. Slowly, you look down and find someone’s arms wrapped around you before you can turn and discover who the person is. They grumble, nuzzling their face into your neck and the deep voice that escapes them sends shivers straight to your core. “Turn that thing off. What dumbass is calling you this early?” 

You realise your body is already relaxed. It probably already noticed it was Steve before your foggy mind did. “I can’t, dumbass, your holding my arms hostage.” You hear him grumble, letting your arms go so you can see what’s happening, and you wish you didn’t. “Well… It seems I’m yours and Sam’s whore, and who knows who else’s.”

When the word whore leaves your lips, Steve’s head perks up, and his eyes narrow into a glare. Snatching the phone out of your hands and scrolling through every article, post and photo he can find. “The shit is this?”

“Language.” You smile as he glares at you. Watching as he grabs his phone and notices the same shit popping up on his social media. “It’s okay, Steve. I’m not that bothered, and it’s not like I didn’t know stuff like this would pop up. Things pop up when we stand too close to each other, but we ignore them.” He places the phones down, pulling you closer to his body and wrapping you into a giant hug.

“Yeah, but the only thing they got wrong is that you aren’t mine and Sam’s whore.” His eyes stare down at your face, slowly making their way down to your lips, and he leans closer until you can feel his breath against your face. “You’re my whore.” As he finishes, he connects your lips into a passionate kiss.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #imyourbratzdollwork #steve rogers #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers au #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #captain america #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans angst #chris evans character #chris evans characters

[megamindsecretlair]

Sit Still (Look Pretty), Part 1

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Black!Fem!reader/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some unresolved tension, mutual voyeurism, cursing, mentions of female and male parts, Part 1 of ? Not sure how long this will take to resolve. Age gap, reader is mid 20s, Nomad Steve is mid 30s.

Summary: AU where Steve was born in modern times but still received a serum in the Army to make him a super soldier. He's moved in next door and has noticed you watching him. You and your mom have gone over to introduce yourselves.

Word Count: 1,857k

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics so decided to try my hand at another. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But this was fun. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to help writers!

Fuck, your neighbor was hot as hell. You sat on your window seat gawking at the tall, sexy neighbor as he picked up huge boxes and carried them in the house as if it weighed no more than feathers. 

Muscles rippled in a dark blue muscle shirt as he moved and bent over. And that ass. You bit your lip as the neighbor bent further down to lift a chair. Oh and those thighs. You sighed. The Lord took His time with this one. 

The man was at least six foot tall, dark blond hair and a full trimmed beard. He wore a pair of dark jeans and boots. All week, you had watched him go in and out of the newly bought house next door. He carried lots of boxes but none of them gave any clue to his story.

Was he married? Was he expecting? Surely someone that damn fine had a wife heavenly pregnant and ordering him about. You weren’t sure how he didn’t have eleven rugrats running around. There were no other movers and the neighbor had rented a small truck for his sofa and dressers. 

You also saw the neighborhood crones using any excuse in the book to talk to him and be nosy. If he thought someone that looked like him was going to move here without raising any alarms, he was sorely mistaken.

You gasped as he stopped to stretch, moving his body beyond his limit. You just wanted to lick him. Just once. You fanned yourself as you watched him. You imagined all kinds of filthy things when it came to him. 

You imagined him grabbing your fleshy thighs and shaking them before slapping them. You imagined him in between your legs coating that full beard with your juices. You imagined him breaking your back. Like, literally breaking your back. Because he could put you in the hospital and you’d say thank you.

He disappeared into the house. His curtains were thrown open so you could still watch him moving around the house. The downfall to stock houses was that they were lined up just so. The houses were nearly identical. Your bedroom window faced his bedroom window on the second floor. The angle you had was just enough to see his kitchen sink. It’d be possible to see his arms and hands as he washed. 

You spent plenty of nights this week just watching his hands work over his meager dishes. If he was married, she didn’t live with him. You never saw anyone coming or going from his place. He didn’t have a second car. 

Your mom called your name. “I’ve got this cake for the neighbor, let’s go introduce ourselves,” she called. 

You rolled your eyes. Yes, your mom was very much just as gossipy as the neighborhood crones. Everything you’ve heard of the neighbor was through her and probably had twisted from its original message. 

You weren’t dressed yet. You had made watching him your dirty hobby. But you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Sometimes, you got the eerie feeling as if he were watching you too. You had taken to keeping your curtains open and your light on. 

You never saw him look over here. The random times he was in his room and moving around, he never gave any indication that he knew you were looking. Still, you pranced around in your bra and panties every morning or before hanging with your friends as you decided what to wear.

Sometimes, you even faced the window as you decided between two shirts or two skirts. You pretended that he was picking your outfits, telling you what he likes seeing you in. That he would imagine ripping it off of your body all day and it would drive him crazy. Knowing you’d be capable of making him hard and uncomfortable all day turned you on so badly. 

You stood and did just that. You faced his bedroom window even though he was probably still on the first floor. You held up a red, frilly shirt and a light ocean blue plain shirt. You flipped back and forth, imagining what he’d like.

You put the shirts on your bed and then flipped between jeans and white shorts. You held up the red shirt and white shorts. If you were going to meet him, you might as well show him what you’re working with. You turned around and imagined him at the window, getting dressed for him. 

You bent low and shimmied into the white shorts as slow as you could. Then you slipped on the red babydoll tee. It made your breasts look good. Plus it was hot as sin outside. 

You ran down the stairs and sat on the steps as you slipped on your shoes. Your mom floated into the room holding a small box. “I went with chocolate,” your mom said. “Everybody likes chocolate and those who don’t are lying to get attention.”

You laughed as you shook your head. Your mom was gorgeous, with flowing locs and a great figure. She wore loose tan pants and a cream shirt. 

“Isn’t this a little Southern of us?” You asked. You lived in Suburbia with the white picket fences and neighbors who’d gone to high school together. It was capital boredom and should be labeled as a torture method.

“Best way to meet your neighbors. They associate you with good food and are less likely to be rude to you by throwing loud parties and orgies,” your mother said.

You snorted. Your mom never had a filter and would often say the first thing that comes to mind. Your dad hated it but you caught him smiling more than a few times. 

You trudged over the manicured lawn, over the small concrete divider, and onto his property. The door was closed. He was probably taking a break from moving things. Your mom rang the doorbell and you waited.

The door finally opened and you gasped silently. He was even more gorgeous in person. Fuck, it had to be illegal to carry those arms. They looked big enough to crush a coconut in one grip. His hands were large and his fingers were long, like a musician's fingers.

He smirked at you and your mother. Your mom stepped forward. “We wanted to introduce ourselves, we’re your neighbors on that side,” she said and pointed to your house. 

She told him your names and all about the chocolate cake, including her joke about people lying. He threw his head back as he laughed as if it were that funny.

“I’m Steve,” he said. He shook your mom’s hand and then moved to yours. His grip was firm but not crushing.  

You looked down at your combined hands, loving the way that your copper skin contrasted with his creamy skin. He held on a second too long before turning his attention to your mom who asked him a million questions.

“If I heard all of those, I’d say I moved here for work, not married, and I work for the military. Did I get it all?” He asked.

He had a bit of an accent. You guessed somewhere on the East Coast. Your mom giggled. You looked at her as if she grew a third head. She widened her eyes at you and then smiled back at Steve. She prattled on about her career, that fact that you were in college for your master’s, and that you were always available if he needed you. 

Since his attention was on your mom, you took the opportunity to study him up close. His blue eyes were sharp, giving one hundred percent of his focus on the person speaking. He had a prominent vein on the side of his neck and you imagined licking it. 

“Oh, I have to take this, excuse me,” your mom said. She answered her phone and stepped off of the porch. 

You turned to Steve who had his eyes trained on you. He barely blinked and did not look away. 

“So, military huh? That explains that,” you said. You waved at his figure and he laughed. It was deep and made you tingle.

“Thank you. I’m not active duty anymore, I’ve transitioned to the state side and do boring office work now. You home for the summer?” He asked.

“Yes, I am. Taking a break so no work, no homework, just time to decompress. Usually in the pool. This is one of the worst summers ever,” you said and fanned yourself.

Steve slowly perused your body. There was no mistaking that look in his eyes. He faintly smirked as he took in your outfit, your wide curves, your generous hips, and your thick thighs. 

He slowly dragged that gaze back up until he reached your face. “Make sure you stay cool, then. Dehydration is nothing to play with,” he said. 

Your mouth went dry under the intense heat of his gaze. You were aware. You were aware of him and aware of his focus. You bit your lips and his eyes zeroed in on it. His eyes narrowed.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You shifted your footing, trying to find some relief. The heat outside had nothing on his face. 

Your mom’s scuffling shoes took you out of the moment. He winked at you before your mom joined you. Though it was Saturday, her job needed her to come in and solve an emergency. She waved goodbye to Steve and told him not to be a stranger.

You waved bye, unable to speak at the moment. As you turned to leave, Steve grabbed your hand. He ran his fingers over your wrist as he leaned in.

“My favorite color is light blue. And you should get more of those garter things. They look divine on you,” he said. Gravel skated over ‘divine’ and you whimpered. You hoped he didn’t catch that. Your eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes and his eyes narrowed again. 

Your heart thundered in your chest. He knew what you had been doing all along. Your skin heated for entirely different reasons as you thought of all the different lingerie combinations you tried on in front of the window. It somehow made it filthier that he was getting naughty glimpses of you. It made you horny all day thinking of wearing the lingerie and that he didn’t know it was for him. 

It had gotten so bad, that you didn’t care if your parents were home. You had to get off on thinking that he helped select the combos. And those were some of the best orgasms you ever gave yourself. 

“Yes, sir,” you whispered and licked your lips. He smiled and nodded his head as if he were dismissing you. As if he had any right to order you around. 

Yet you left the porch and nearly skipped across the lawn like he told you. Before getting in the house, you looked back. He stood on the porch, facing you, with his hands in his pockets. You smiled and went inside, thinking of how many blue outfits you owned.

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3

#marvel smut #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #nomad steve #nomad steve rogers #nomad steve x Black!reader #nomad steve x fem reader #nomad steve x plus size reader #nomad steve x Black reader #nomad steve x reader #steve x neighbor fic #nomad steve x neighbor!reader #The Secret Nomad Steve Files #Megaminds Secret Files #au #alternate universe

[nerdieforpedro]

The Brave, the Bold, The Dirty - Fanfics that I adore

Volume 5

All fanfics on this list are for readers age 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they're there so you know what's in them. Read at your own risk.

Room 1918 by @megamindsecretlair (Nomad Steve Rogers x Black female plus size reader)

Sweet Treat - Part Two by @mrsmando (Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x plus size female reader) Follow up to 'Sweet Treat - part one.'

La Petit Mort @boliv-jenta (Joel Miller x reader and Dave York x reader) Dark Fic

Misfire @qveerthe0ry (Dieter Bravo x GN reader)

Fluffer by @proxima-writes (Dieter Bravo x PA female writer)

Hey Good Lookin’ - part one and Hey Good Lookin’ - part two by @gwendibleywrites (Chubby shy Frankie Morales x plus size reader)

Lemonade Sparkles by @frenchiereading (Frankie Morales x female reader)

Watta Man - A Marcus Pike Story by @atinylittlepain (Marcus Pike x female reader)

O’ Christmas Tree by @covetyou (Dieter Bravo x GN reader)

Lingerie by @604to647 (Din Djarin - modern AU x female reader)

Once in a Blue Moon by @whatsnewalycat (Dieter Bravo x female reader)

Hold Harder by @sin-djarin (Tim Rockford x female reader)

Christmas Indulgence by @movievillainess721 (Jack Daniels x plus size female reader)

Cowboy Hat Joel x Reader (an ask) by @theywhowriteandknowthings (Joel Miller x female reader)

Oh, The Wildflowers by @adora-but-ginger (Joel Miller x GN reader)

A Nanny for Christmas by @absurdthirst (Dave York x plus size female reader)

Baker Wonderland by @integra1127grimmreaper (Javier Guterrez x plus size female reader)

Consummating the Riduurok @beskarandblasters (Din Djarin x female reader)

Consent by @fuckyeahdindjarin (Dieter Bravo x female reader)

White Christmas by @absurdthirst (Joel Miller x female reader)

Symphony by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x Jersey - OFC)

What the Heart Wants by @artemiseamoon (Pero Tovar x female reader)

Javier Peña & His Sweetheart (Chubby Peña) by @beefrobeefcal (Chubby Javier Peña x female reader)

Please check out everyone's listed fics and master lists! Don't forget to reblog and comment, writers love interactions. 🥰

#Nerdie's fic recommendations #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #din djarin #frankie morales #dieter bravo #the mandalorian #pero tovar #Dave york #Marcus pike #Tim rockford #Steve Rogers

[megamindslair]

Room 1918

Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: Nomad Steve x Black!FemReader. MINORS DNI. Dominance, breeding kink, unprotective p in v, fingering fem receiving, biting, cum play, blow job, and dirty talk.

Word Count: 3,569k

Summary: After the troubling events of Civil War, Steve is constantly on the move. But even a super soldier has needs. He just so happened to fall for your charms and you promptly fell into an arrangement. At each hotel you meet at, you reserve Room 1918 and wait for him.

A/N: What can I say, I'm toasted and feral AF for Nomad Steve and just kept writing. Apologies in advance if I missed warnings or offend anyone. Likes are awesome, but consider reblogging and commenting. I'd like to be a better writer! Not beta'd or proofread all that well, it's almost 5am for me. LOL

Room 1918

He’s late. You pace back and forth in front of the window, peeking out every so often. You bite your lip as you think about all the reasons he could be late. The feds caught up to him, he was killed, or some emergency. You think about turning on the TV but the thought of seeing his face plastered on the news makes you sick. 

In between your worries, you’re also excited. Your skin iss sensitive already. You anticipate all the wicked things Steve will do to you tonight. You blow out a breath and look out of the window one more time. 

A knock on the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you cross the dark navy carpet towards the door. You look through the peephole and see a familiar bearded figure with a cap on his head. Still, per his instructions anyway, you call out, “Who’s there?” 

“It’s me,” his deep voice rumbles from the other side. You smile and open the door. Steve stands before you in dark jeans, gray shirt, and a black hoodie. His cap is pulled low over his brow and his beard is growing out. He has a full and proper beard this time, most likely to fool security cameras.

You lean your head on the hotel door and just drink him in. Even in casual clothes, he looks every inch the super soldier you know him to be. Your cheeks warm as you objectify him. His broad shoulders barely fit through the frame as he walks in. 

He pushes past you smelling like sandalwood and soap and man. He is at least a foot taller. He towers over you. He sniffs at you as he brushes past looking down and looking you over. 

You’re wearing a baby pink robe with black trimming. The bottom slightly flared to accommodate your wide hips and it was trimmed in faux mink. It contrasted perfectly with your russet skin. The dim hotel lights make your skin glow and you hope the glitter was showing. But the dark look in his blue eyes let you know that it didn’t matter. He is devouring you in one look. 

“You are a treasure,” he says. 

You giggle softly and close the door behind him. You lock the door and stand before him and let him look his fill.

He takes off his cap and throws it onto the mahogany dresser. His hair is darker, the blond more akin to brown now. His hair is longer too, runaway strands landing into his pretty face. 

“You broke our rule,” he grumbles. His brows draw down, scowling at you.

“Which one?” 

“I could see you from the parking lot, looking out of the window. You can’t do that. If someone catches you…”

“They won’t. No one knows about us. We’ve been careful,” you say. You approach him until you are chest to chest. 

“All the same. Don’t look out of the window. Someone could see, or someone could harm you. These windows aren’t that effective.”

You roll your eyes. You did not wait a whole fucking month to hear a lecture about safety and evasion tips. All you had were stolen moments. One day of being in his arms. The other days, there was no communication. Full and total blackout. You anxiously awaited news that he was captured or killed. Until the next time he hit up your email. 

You set up a joint email account and communicated via the draft folder. He’d send you a city and you’d book a flight. Since you worked for yourself, there was no one to answer to but yourself. Your friends and family just thought you liked to travel. They called you lucky.

You were dating a ghost. And every day he was on the run, was another day you could never be together. And it hurt. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He asks. 

“I promise I won’t look out of the window next time,” you say. 

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” His voice pitches lower and he scowls even further at you. He spoke slowly as if you hadn’t heard him the first time. A tingle shoots up your legs. 

“Yes, I did,” you say. You raise your eyebrow at him.

Steve sighs and rubs his beard. “I’m not in the mood,” he says. 

You coo and closed the remaining distance, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “I can fix that,” you say. You trail your hands lower, moving your hands over his jeans. A noticeable bulge grows under your exploring hands and you rub him over his jeans.

Steve grabs your wandering hands in one hand and narrows his eyes at you. His blue eyes are scalding. You would’ve flinched if it didn’t just turn you on. The Steve that stayed hidden away was swimming to the surface. The side of him that he kept hidden was there. 

“I said I’m not in the mood. You’re taking dangerous risks. I won’t risk you,” he says. 

“It’s not dangerous, Steve. I promise. I just…I miss you so fuckin’ much,” you say. 

“That doesn’t mean you can put yourself at risk. You know you belong to me. What would I do without these days I get to see you?” He asks.

He’s right of course, the arrogant prick. “I won’t do anything to risk that, Steve,” you say. An attitude creeps into your tone and you know the moment you fucked up. His eyebrows shoot up at the same time his hands squeezes yours. 

“Just for that, you don’t get your treat tonight. You’ll have to wait another month,” he says.

“Oh come on,” you whine. You know you sound annoying and you hated it. 

“Keep it up, I’ll make it two months.”

“Steve, please,” you say. You pout, sticking out your bottom lip and rounding your eyes. 

“Three months,” he says. His jaw clenches as he stares you down.

“Please Steve, I won’t make it that long,” you plead. 

“I don’t care.” He grabbs your jaw, squeezing your rounded face until your lips pucker. “I told you that I’m not in the mood. Get your ass on the bed, now,” he growls so close to your face that his breath fans over it. He pushes you away until you stumble back a bit.

You manage to lick your lips. Something bad happened today. It was either a close call or he failed to help someone. That whole other side was begging to be pushed. He thought he needed total obedience, but he needed to get worked up more. To push past that barrier and consume you body and soul. 

“Let me make it up to you,” you say. You approach him and slid to the floor to get on your knees. You move closer on your knees. You reach up for his jeans and unbuckle his belt. You tug it through the metal loop. As you work to free him, you keep your eyes on him. He’s so tall, he might as well be a giant. Especially while you were on your knees.

The mink at the bottom of your robe tickles your legs and only works to make your skin hyperaware. The hold the man had on you was like being drunk. Total loss of your control. Your head is fuzzy and you sway. And you overall feel so damn horny, you were nearly combusting.

“Let me earn back my months,” you say.

You palm him and he sighs. His eyes flutter closed as you work him up and down softly. Your hand glides over his velvety soft dick. The serum really increased everything about him. His thick length intimidates you. You’ve sucked him off before but every time required a pep talk.

You lick the head of his dick, painting your tongue with his precum. You swallow the head and lick back and forth over the tip. A groan leaves Steve as he throws his head back. You take him in further, swallowing him down. His hips jerk forward and he digs his hands into your hair.

He places his palm on your scalp and grabs your hair at the roots. He soon takes over, fucking your mouth as if you were nothing more than a hole to be used. He sets the rhythm and the pace, bouncing you up and down. You look at him as you hollow out your cheeks. 

Steve’s dick hits the back of your throat, causing you to choke a bit. Steve groans hearing your whimpers and moans and quiet pleas. Still, he is relentless. Your jaw hurts and tears gather in your eyes.

“That’s my dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says. “Suck that dick, baby.” His whispered commands make your pussy clench with vicious need. His balls slap your chin. He reaches down with his other hand to pull on your dark left nipple. It was his favorite nipple for some reason. Probably because it was slightly bigger than the right and you swore it was more sensitive. Every time he pinched you, it sent a straight shot of desire to your pussy. 

Your whimpers increase, creating a sexy symphony of carnal sounds. His harsh breaths mingle with your crying and soon he’s groaning. “Fuck, this mouth is gorgeous,” he moans.

Steve abruptly pulls out of your mouth with a growl. He grabs your arms and lifts you to your feet. He leans in and licks the tears off your cheek. Then he’s kissing you, stroking his tongue against yours. He grabs your face and moves you backward until your legs are hitting the bed.

“You’re gonna take this cum inside of you,” he say.

“Yes, Steve,” you huff. You rotate your jaw to get some feeling back into it. 

“You only earned one month back,” he say.

You open your mouth to speak but Steve’s eyes burns holy retribution. He finally snaps. He pushes you onto the bed. You hop once. He stares down at you and rubs his beard. You got the sense that he was trying to figure out the best way to attack you. 

He glares at you as he strips. His shirt and hoodie are off in one fell swoop and flung onto the floor. He shucks off his shoes and socks and relieves himself of his jeans and underwear.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Tanned skin, a glory trail down to his impressive dick. It bounces under your gaze and you lick your lips. 

“You better be fuckin’ wet,” he says. He rips open your robe, the snaps releasing at once. You learned your lesson with the button and latch ones. Your robes kept getting shredded with his inhuman strength. And you really like this one. 

You don’t wear anything underneath. Somehow you knew that tonight would be different. Whether it was a hunch or intuition, it came in handy tonight. His gaze roams over your body, sighing and cooing in pleasure.

“You’re really fuckin’ perfect,” he croons. He kept eye contact as he leans forward and over you, licking your tummy. You whimpers. His rough tongue was divine. Surely it was a crime to be this addicted to somebody. His every touch set your nerves on fire. 

Fresh arousal drips out of your pussy and you keen forward trying to get his attention. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that needy little cunt for you,” he says. Oh god, you whimper. 

He climbs onto the bed, forgoing your usual treat of him eating you out. You hoped that after he got that post-nut clarity, he’d be all too happy to oblige. But knowing him, he’d stick to it out of spite. By simply knowing that you needed his lips on your pussy. 

As he came over you, he kisses you so sweetly. Feathering his kisses over your full, luscious lips. He kisses the side of your mouth and then your jaw. He licks a hot trail on your neck. 

Your hands came up to rub his back. He’s on fire. He’s a living furnace under your fingertips. His muscles contract and flex beneath your touch. 

“I’m gonna fill that needy cunt with my seed. I want you so full,” he growls in your ear. The subtle gravel in his voice makes you tingle all over. “I need you so badly. Please,” you beg. 

You’re not too proud to beg. Your pussy aches and feels empty. You need him to fill you up now.  You had a very low tolerance for just about everything. Least of all this weird middle between pleasure and pain. 

Steve denies you further. He continues to rain kisses on your chest, sucking on your titty and biting you. He licks the sting away and then latches on to your nipple. He sucks and teases the little bead between his teeth. He uses one hand to dig under you and grab on to your fat ass. 

He squeezes and growls in satisfaction. He uses his other hand to roll your other nipple with his fingers. You moan and writhe. You sigh. “Please, please, please,” you cry.

He kneads your breast and pinches your nipple. Then he switches sides. His mouth came over his favorite nipple and gave it just as much attention. Freezing hotel air hit your wet nipple and you shivered. His free hand came up to warm your titty once more. 

“Steve,” you beg. You couldn’t speak anymore. It was too much.

“That’s my filthy girl,” he says. He lowers his left hand to dance over your damp curls. You suck in a breath. He digs his finger between your pussy lips and sighs. You’e so wet, the sounds of which echoed in the silent room. 

“You’re making a mess over here, sweetheart,” he chides. You whimper and your legs shake. Your nails dig into Steve’s shoulders. He rubs your clit in agonizingly slow circles. Your arousal ramps higher and higher until your body begins to jerk and twitch. 

“Cum for me, dirty girl. Cum on my fingers,” he croons. 

You’re stuttering breaths and shaking so much that he leans down further until he is right on top of you. The solid weight of him made you come undone. He curls his fingers inside of you and you come with a powerful force, waves of please washing over you. Your body seizes as you come. 

Steve talks you down from it, calling you a pretty girl and beautiful and gorgeous. Each new adjective soaked into your brown skin, lighting you up from the inside. You absently rub his head, letting his silky tresses slip through your fingers. 

Your skin’s overheated. If it wasn’t for his body laying on top of yours, you would’ve been shivering from how incredibly cold you were. You sniffle as runaway tears escaped your eyes. 

Steve kisses your cheek, once again licking up the tears. He makes his way back to your mouth. He kisses you lazily. As if you had all the time in the world. He bites your bottom lip hard enough to sting. Then he licks it away. He leans back and sucks on his fingers. The fingers that were inside of you.

You smell your arousal on his fingers. Your breathing starts to settle as Steve sticks his fingers into your mouth. You taste yourself on his fingers and whimper. 

He leans up until he’s kneeling on the bed. He grabs your thighs and moves them to his hips so that he’s lined up perfectly. He pitches forward and lets his smooth dick rub your clit. You’re still a bit sensitive from your orgasm so you twitch on every up-slide. 

Then, he shoves in one full thrust. You’re so slippery, he slides in without resistance. You both moan at the contact. You’re finally full and fuck, it burns so good. He stays like that for a few moments as you acclimate to his size and girth. 

“Fuck. Your pussy feels so damn good,” he says. 

You whimper beneath him and move up and down, trying to signal without words that he needed to move. He pants above you. His floppy hair falls over his brow and half in his eyes. He licks his lips as he stares at you.

Oh, right. You tap his arm twice to let him know that you were okay and he could keep going. You found out pretty quickly that he was capable of rendering you catatonic. You needed a system that communicated through taps to let him know that you were down for everything he was doing. 

He leans forward and kisses you before sliding out of you and then sliding back in. “Such a messy, filthy girl. You’re making a mess all over my dick,” he says.

“Oh god, Steve,” you cry. You clench around his dick and you both groan. You grab onto his forearms and wrap your thick legs around his waist. He starts to piston inside of you, going so deep and hard that he’s hitting the shit out of your G spot. 

You hold on, bouncing on his dick. His balls slap against your ass. 

“Fuck, I’m going to give you all this cum, sweetheart. Tell me you want it,” he says.

“I want it so badly. Please fill me up, please.” 

A desperate need takes hold of you. He feels so good sliding in and out of you with ease. You truly are making a mess. He takes your wrists in his one palm and lifts them above your head until your breasts are on full display. His other hand grips your knee and pushes it back to get a better angle. Somehow, he’s able to go deeper and you make all kinds of incoherent sounds.

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna bruise in the morning. His grip is punishing, locking you into place. Steve chases his own orgasm, giving you no more thought as he closes his eyes and groane. His stomach contracts from the effort of gliding into you. 

“Take this fuckin’ cum, sweetheart. I want your pussy full of my cum. Only mine. Help me fill you up,” he grunts.

He thrusts harder, his thighs slapping against yours. You clench and clench around him, your belly burning with the need to cum. 

“I’m going to put a baby in that pussy of yours. I want your belly to be swollen,” he growl. 

“Oh fuck,” you scream. An orgasm rips through you. Sparks fly behind your eyelids. Your body convulses and twists and turns. Steve lets go of your wrists to hold himself up. He pumps three more times before bursting inside of you with a long, guttural moan. 

His hot seed squirts inside of you, bathing your insides. He pumps a few more times before dropping on top of you. He shakes and you rub his back. You touch every inch of him you could get your hands on. 

He withdraws and you make embarrassing squelching noises as he pulls out. His cum leaks out. You groan from the sensation. He leans up and away, leaning back on his haunches so he can grab your legs and spread them apart.

He surveys his handy work and lord help, but you were getting aroused again. He grunted in between his huffs. 

“You keep that fuckin’ cum inside you,” he growls. He dips his hand down to gather up the cum that slips out. Then he pushes it back inside of you, massaging your overworked pussy. 

“That’s my fuckin’ pussy, that I can use however I want right?” He asks.

“Yes, Steve,” you whisper. You shiver from him fucking his cum back into you. 

“You gonna keep this cum inside you? You gonna grow my baby?” He asks.

“Oh god, yes Steve,” you whine. 

This orgasm sneaks up on you. One minute he is adding a third finger inside of you and the next, you’re huffing and whining and whimpering again. He fucks you through it, moving his fingers in and out as you cry out. Your sweet cries flow over the walls and hit you back.

“So needy and filthy,” he says. 

As you come down, he grins at you for the first time that night. He licks his fingers as he gives you a devilish grin. 

“The things I’m going to do to you tonight,” he says wistfully. His eyes look over your deep russet skin, your big tummy, and juicy breasts. 

You yawn and he chuckles. “Thank you, sweetheart. Get some sleep, we’ve got a long night to make up for.”

Steve untangles himself from you, crossing the room to the bathroom. You curl up on your side as sleep tugs heavily. Steve returne with a washcloth to clean you up. You feel the cold circle of your arousal on the bed. It’s huge. You groan. You can’t believe that all of that came out of you. 

Steve takes care of himself with his own washcloth before laying down and pulling you into him. His warm chest hits your back and your ass hits his dick. You both sigh as you wiggle a bit. Steve tells you to behave. 

He wraps a massive arm around your waist and pulls you closer, his fingers curling underneath you. You’re locked in and aren't about to go anywhere. 

You fall into a deep, deep sleep curled up with the literal man of your dreams.

#marvel #marvel smut #nomad steve x Black!Reader #The Secret Nomad Steve Files #steve rogers #steven grant rogers #captain america #nomad captain america #steve x reader #steve x plus size reader #nomad steve x plus size reader #steve x black reader

[disasterofastory]

The pretty little actress of Rogers - Part 8 (Steve Rogers x Reader)

The pretty little actress of Rogers Part 8 - Friends // The pretty little actress of Rogers Masterlist Steve Rogers x Reader Mafia AU Warnings: none

Summary: You meet Steve’s friends.

The small apartment you rent is quiet and calm when you get home. The lights are off, and the traffic is muffled through the windows. Kent's briefcase is at the entrance door, pushed against the wall. A small piece of paper waits for you on the fridge with your husband's handwritten message on it. He won't be back tonight.

It's okay, though. You won't be home either.

By the time you get ready, Steve already waits for you outside. The blue suit with the black lapel looks too good on him. You can't help but smile when you notice the matching bow tie around his neck. He is freshly shaved, and his hair is combed backward in soft, blond strands. "You look amazing," you grin as the door closes behind you, and your high heels creak with every step on the pavement. "And you look ravishing," he smirks, pulling you against his hard body to kiss your cheek. The musky scent of his cologne fills your lungs. "Thank you," you reply, still smiling. You wear the black dress with the heart-shaped cleavage he liked so much. You added matching stockings and a jacket that barely protects you from the cold but looks too good not to wear for the night. "I can't leave you alone tonight," he comments, holding your hand as you get in the car. It's warm, and the music is quiet in the background. "Why?" You ask back with a light frown. Your lips glint under the street lamp as you talk. "So no one can steal you from me."

When you arrive at the club, it's already loud and busy. The place is much bigger than the other one Steve took you a few weeks ago. Bright lights flash in the smokey air. The music vibrates in your chest, and seeing the crowd, you can't wait to drink something to calm your nerves. "Come," Steve says through the noise. "I will show you the VIP area." His arm is firm and secures around your body. He leads you through the dancing bodies easily and doesn't let you go even when you reach the stairs to the next floor. "Are your friends already here?" You ask him as you reach the top. "Probably," he replies. "But you don't have to worry," he adds when he notices the unsure tone of your words. "Sam's girl will be here too. She will love you."

You are not sure about his statement, but you follow him into the VIP room. The music is much quieter and calmer here. You can see the dancing crowd on the first floor from the window that covers the whole wall. A long couch and sofas are put in the middle, with a small bar at the corner. "We thought you won't even come." A brunette greets Steve first. He is a bit shorter, but the power he holds demands attention and respect. "I told you I would come," Steve replies, shaking the man's hand with a quick pat on his shoulder. "And she is Y/N," he adds, stepping back to slide his arm around your waist again. "Oh, yes." Another man speaks up from the couch. "Your pretty little actress." "Don't listen to him." A young woman cuts in before you can react. She steps away from the bar to hug you as a greeting. "My name is Leila, and the idiot on the couch is Sam." "And I'm Bucky." The brunette adds, reaching out for your hand to shake it. His touch is warm and gentle. "And the quiet one at the bar is Nomad." "Fuck off." The blond, bearded man grunts but nods your way. "What do you drink?" Leila asks, linking her arms into yours to steal you away from Steve with a quick wink. "Anything... strong," you reply with an exhale. You really need something to relax while everyone's eyes are on you the whole time.

"It's a big step," Sam comments quietly when Steve sits down next to him with a bottle of beer in his large hand. "You are serious about her, hm?" That's true. They don't introduce every girl to their group. Steve doesn't even remember the last time he had a girl worthy of this. "What about the husband?" Bucky asks. He is on the sofa, legs crossed. "Still in the picture," Steve grunts, glancing at you over his shoulder. You sit at the bar, chatting with Leila. An easy smile plays on your lips, and your eyes glint with laughter. You are in good hands. "Just say the words, and I will make sure he won't be anymore," Nomad offers, sitting down next to Steve. "No." "Are you sure?" "No." Bucky laughs. "What does she say? How is her marriage?" Steve shrugs. "We don't talk about it." "And how much longer can you go like this?" It's a good question. Steve is not sure about it. He is not the type of man who shares his woman with another. The thought of you going home to another man haunts him more and more often with every passing day. He wants you. He wants you nights and days. He wants you to come home to him and sleep next to him and be with him entirely. "As long as I have to," he replies in the end.

Their conversations stop when you and Leila join them. You sit next to Steve, who drops his arm over your shoulder immediately. Your skin is soft under his touch. You fit his side perfectly. "So you work at the theater?" Bucky asks. "Yes," you nod. "We have to go and see you," Leila adds, smiling at his boyfriend. "Don't you think?" "Whatever you want, love," Sam hums. His dark eyes glint with happiness and love as he watches his woman sitting down on his lap. His arm curls around her body automatically. "We will have a premiere soon," you suggest with a gentle smile. You know these people are important to Steve, and for some reason, you want them to like you. Why does it matter, though? It's not an official relationship. You are married to another man. But nonetheless, you can't fight against the nudging feeling.

As the night goes on, you get more and more comfortable with Steve's company. Sam and Bucky are not shy to tease the man next to you the whole time, while Nomad just smirks and adds something to the conversation every now and again. And Leila accepts you as her new friend immediately. "You could join us sometime," you offer her at some point. "Wanda and Nakia would really like you." "I would love to," she smiles. Steve's hand on your bare thigh tightens as he sends a smile your way. He wants you to get comfortable with his friends since he imagines his future with you even though you don't know it yet.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers imagine #avenger x reader #mafia au #mafia!steve rogers #x reader #reader fanfiction

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Beauty was something that anyone and everyone strived to capture in their life — whether it be by photographs, artistry, the simple but elegant words of poetry. The opportunities were endless and abundant. 

And your boys were remiss to lose on an opportunity to utilise their skills, on any front.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 1.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Tooth rotting fluff, the boys know how to get what they want

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𖠺 I have no words to excuse the softness in this fic — I needed it, so y'all gonna get it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𖠺 @stuckybingo 𝗢𝟯 — Artist/Muse AU (April Adoptable) —  Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Petal… What would you say to me, if I asked you, if you could maybe stand still long enough for me to draw you?”

You blinked, then looked up at Bucky, who was staring back at you with a quirked smile on his full lips. There was a flutter of movement you would have mistaken for him placing his phone out of sight. “What?”

“I said,” he replied, “I want to draw you, in a roundabout way.”

The stalks in your grasp rustled with the sudden shiver that flew up your spine — you watched both Steve and Bucky work at their craft for hours on end, and you never could truly take in how their hands could be so soft, so nimble and practised over the paper. 

One thing that you adored beyond words when they began, was the sound of their pencils over the paper. The soft scratches of lead over the thickened, artist sheets, to the soft frowns of concentration that pulled their lips downwards. 

But the most beautiful thing to witness while they were in their element? 

It was the smile.

The blindingly bright, joyful, beaming smile that they shared with one another when they caught the other’s gaze, whether it be through the corner of their eyes, or a sneaky glance when they thought the other wasn’t looking. 

They were the purest, sincerest form of love and adoration; a devotion beyond words, and here Bucky was, while Steve was running errands, asking if he could draw you.

“I, uh– Um–” You stuttered, still blinking owlishly at him while he continued to watch you — the soft smile still on his lips turned more into a sly smirk the longer you stared at him. “You– You want to draw me? While I work?”

Bucky nodded once, the loose strands of hair from the bun at the nape of his neck swaying. “Yeah, pretty girl,” he purred. “I wanna add you to my sketchbook, I want you to capture my muse…”

“Me?” 

“Yeah, you, baby,” he laughed. The black shirt that hugged his chest wrinkled with the movements of his shoulders, and before you could reply, he stood before you. That damned smirk was still pulling at the corner of his lips. “No doubt Stevie will too, when he gets back—which’ll be any minute.” He leaned down onto the counter to better look into your eyes, and he rested his chin on his fist. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You stared back into Bucky’s soft gaze, floundering internally for a response that did not involve imploding with the violently crashing emotions in your mind. The sincerity of such a request; the implications of being among the works of such renown professionals; being called their muse.

Before you could answer Bucky’s request, the doorbell chimed with the arrival of a new customer, and you looked over his shoulder to greet them. “Hello, welcome to– Oh, hey, Stevie,” you said happily. 

Strong arms were held behind his back, and blue eyes searched your face, then his partner’s. “What’s goin’ on…?”

“I was just askin’ Petal if I could draw her, I wanted to capture her in an artwork to better…”

“To show our muse how beautiful she is, Buck?” Steve smiled fondly, his gaze moving from his husband back to you. “He’s not wrong, doll. Can we?”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. The blooms you were focusing on were long left on the counter, their flowers casted over the countertop. “Guys–”

“Come on, love,” Steve said softly. “You don’t even have to stop working—it’ll be like we’re not here, just focus on you and what you do so beautifully day in and day out. It’s easy, I promise.”

Then Steve presented Bucky with a sketchbook from behind his back. Their eyes never left yours while they handled the pages and lead pencils, along with a few brushes and neutral paints. Both battered their lashes and pouted at you. 

“You two are impossible,” you declared, staring between them. “Utterly impossible.”

“But you love it,” Bucky reminded you, and you conceded with a nod. 

A heavy, resigned sigh raised and lowered your shoulders. “Okay, fine, you can do– Do that, just don’t ask me to pose. I have to get this stuff done.”

“Deal,” they said in unison, and they rushed over to a bench seat with bouquets on either side of the arms, placed on small, rounded tables. 

You could hear the rustle of paper and the soft, subtle crunching sound of the spines being moved — a new pair of sketchbooks? You glanced upwards to where they sat as you walked behind the counter, and it was true, the two of them had brand new sketchbooks. 

The black, leather covers were plain and innocuous, and you wouldn’t have guessed they were for any purpose but for sketches, until you caught a quick glimpse of something on one of Bucky’s pages: a single flower with petals blooming wide and far. Textured lines and soft shading brought the petals to life, and from your distance, you just made out a line in cursive text…

Petal’s Beauty.

“Bucky?” 

The page was long passed in his haste to find the perfect sheet to draw on, and the brunette looked up from the paper with his eyebrows raised in question. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You know what I mean,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes. “What was that?”

He continued to feign innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, baby. Now stand there for us and get to work, so we can get to work.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, picking up the stems of Baby’s Breath you were working with before. “Unbelievable, I get asked to do the–”

“You’ll be rewarded for this, sweetheart,” Steve added quietly. You looked up from the blooms to Steve’s face, only he was staring down at the paper, his pencil held gently in his fingers while he made lines of lead on the page. 

“If you say so.” And you shrugged, resigned to the knowledge that every last move you would make — for however long it would take to be drawn — you would be closely observed. 

The space fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft Disney songs playing on the speakers and the soft scratches of the boy’s pencils on their paper. It was soothing and relaxing, using your hands to manipulate nature; to create something more than what mother nature dreamed of as she created flora. 

It was a familial belief, one that had been passed down the women in your family for generations — every single one of them a part of Fantasy Floristry in one way or another. 

Through the shop windows, between the shelves and displays of arrangements, the sun slowly rose and fell as you worked, and you found your feet aching once the early afternoon rolled around. “Boys, do you want to get some lunch, maybe? I’m thinking maybe something we all love. Like pizza.”

“Yeah,” they said in tandem. It was a monotonous reply, and you looked up from your phone where you were searching for a spot to eat. 

You found both of them sitting stock still while their hands flew over the paper in their laps. “How is it going?” you asked quietly, still standing in place. “Can I move?”

“Yeah,” they said in tandem, again. The assurance wasn’t enough for you to dare move a muscle from your designated spot as their muse.

After a few moments, their pencils slowed down and you tentatively moved one foot, then the other. “Boys? Did you hear me?”

Steve blinked; Bucky shook his head. Their eyes found yours and they smiled happily. “Yeah,” Bucky said. 

“You ready to see, doll?” Steve asked, tilting the paper up and out of plain sight. “We’re done.”

“Alright,” you whispered, still unsure. 

What would be revealed when they showed you their creations? Would it be beyond words and leave you breathless? Would you simply fall to your knees in your own shop, unable to take in such an overwhelming sense of love? 

“Show me.”

Both Bucky and Steve turned their sketchbooks around simultaneously, the once blank page now covered in neat, smooth lines and shading of graphite. 

It took a moment to take in what you were seeing — the lines all converged in one place: you, standing behind your counter, bouquet in one hand while you grinned at the viewer with such fondness you could feel the comfort radiate from the lead itself. 

Flowers of all kinds lined the wall behind you, and while they weren’t coloured outlandishly as they presented in that moment of time, the soft hues and tones of brown, beige, and white added a subtle woodsy-home feel that encompassed you in an unexplainable warmth. 

Not only had they replicated just how welcoming you wished to be for anyone that ventured into your small, little slice of heaven, they captured just how happy you were to be there.

“Oh my–” You rushed forward, wordlessly gasping and hiccupping on suppressed sobs. Bucky collected you in his arms; Steve shuffled closer and held you both in an embrace. “They’re beautiful– Oh, god, I’m a mess–”

“Nah,” Bucky chuckled, shaking you slightly. “You’re cute. And you’re ours.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #stucky x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #stucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #stucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #stucky x you #stucky fanfiction #stucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #rookthorne's works

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Puppy, (see premise post or series)

Summary: An ultra-shy man named Grant arrives with various friends to your family-owned motel. He opens up slowly over the months...and grows a fantastic beard. 🤭

While this part has no mature situations, this series will be 18+ only. MINORS DNI. This is mostly pure setup for the smut in every future chapter. Your media consumption is your responsibility; please choose for yourself if these matters trigger you. If so, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not it! WC ~2k

He first arrives with only his friend—two fit fellas, one white, one black. They pay in cash, share a double room. The most information you get is Tom Smith, the more open of the two, joking that you’ll have to excuse Grant’s shyness.

Grant doesn’t seem to respond to his own name.

He’s a beefy blond, and your impression is the man doesn’t need to have a lot going on up top to get by in life. You do try not to judge, though. Your job is more about keen observation and recognizing the needs of your guests.

These two guests need privacy. They aren’t unfriendly, but they are not chatty. They go as quickly as they came. One night. The room is slept in, but they were clean enough.

The next time they show up they need three rooms, but you only have two available. Tom and Grant bunk up again, and a couple are with them who do not come into the office. The woman has beautiful auburn hair that she covers with a ball cap, and her very tall beau—whose hand she holds—shields himself in far more clothing than necessary this time of year.

They all sleep (you assume) during the day and only socialize at night when the other guests aren’t around.

Not that the party is loud; they simply seem more at ease when it’s harder to see. They stay three or four days, leaving rather suddenly early one night after paying for the time already.

Sporadically, this continues.

Once it’s only the couple. She is very reserved and he is very awkward, but again nice enough. They stay for nearly two weeks, enjoying hikes in the area, always holding hands. The woman relaxes significantly. It’s quite lovely to see.

Mister and Misses Durham, you know them as. They don’t always respond by name either.

Another visit makes five guests with the addition of a beautiful young woman. Her hair is cropped and bleach blond, and she is by far the most at ease.

It’s this visit that you realize they are just staying in their rooms during the day not sleeping, and you find the karaoke machine to take to Tom’s room.

He’s thrilled, thank goodness, because you don’t normally offer up activities to those who don’t ask about them, but Tom bangs on the doors of the other two (you think) couples so they can join him.

You’re about to leave when he asks you to do a duet with him.

Grant throws out that Tom enjoys Marvin Gaye. It’s the most you’ve heard him say, ever.

“I do,” Tom agrees, “but I don’t mess with the master.”

So you have the idea to sing Marvin Gaye—the song—with Tom as Charlie Puth and you as Meghan Trainor.

It’s quite a lot of fun, belting as best you can, finding Grant’s intense gaze on you for the lyrics:  I’m like a stray without a home… I’m like a dog without a bone…

Just as quickly, however, you have to go back to the front desk. Duty calls and all.

You make sure they know the machine is all theirs for as long as they want. Their rooms are too far down the line of the building to hear if they do enjoy it for long, but you get no complaints about noise. You hope for the best.

Later that night, Grant comes by the office, carrying the machine with a smirk on his face and the most genuine appreciation on his lips. He has a lovely deep voice you never knew about.

He just talks to you.

It’s all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you like on your days off, but even that seems a struggle for him.

Tom was not kidding. His friend is extremely shy. He has trouble thinking up casual questions. He can���t look you in the eye until responding, and he doesn’t give more than a few words in answer to anything.

You laugh--you have to—when Grant asks if he can walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because you live in the house a whopping fifty meters past the main motel. Your family has owned and run this place for three generations. You’ve walked that path your whole life.

“I like walking,” he shrugs, though from the sheer muscles on him, he does way more than just walk. “I was gonna do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Grant is so sweet but so stiff. He holds himself with purpose when actively thinking, but you catch him having these distant moments. He withers like a violet, a shell that’s too small for his big body. He seems lost and lonely.

You’re glad to do whatever keeps him company. Your goal for the night is to make Grant smile as much as humanly possible, but that’s difficult when he won’t let you know anything about him.

Twenty minutes later, Clark, a local stoner kid who hardly looks up from his phone, waltzes in, stepping around Grant like a wall that’s always been there and throwing a “hey, man” out with zero regard for a response. Classic Clark. That’s why he’s on night shifts.

So you grab your bag and let Grant hold the door open for you.

Maybe you’ve been watching the Durhams too much when they come around, but you feel a compulsion to hold his hand. You don’t, obviously, because you only just heard this guy speak for the first time today. It would also be incredibly awkward to hold Grant’s hand in the dead silence that follows on your way up the gravel path.

You’re so consumed by figuring out what to say next that you don’t notice till the beast is right there.

An elk walks right in front of you, taller than Grant. From this angle the animal blocks the entire view of your house it’s so big, and you jump back, slamming into your startled escort’s chest.

You both freeze as it moves slowly at a diagonal to the other side of woods, bringing it and its gigantic horns closer still.

It squawks like some sort of awful banshee and stamps huge hoofs. You throw your weight backward and spin to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you’re so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife, but no creature has ever done this before.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly Grant tries to hold you immobile.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hisses through his teeth for you to stop should be your hint, but instead you cling to him harder, asking quietly if the animal is gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, buries his hands in his pockets, and leans forward, gathering himself.

It was scary. That could have turned nasty very quickly. You were lucky Grant was there and calm…except he was sorta the reason you were distracted in the first place.

Finally composed, he sighs and motions forward. “Let’s get you home.”

Two months later, Grant’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely.

You’ve learned the routine of their check-in. There’s only one room available, unfortunately, but if they stay more than two days, there should be another open.

Tom shrugs and offers a playful, “we’ll see. We go where the wind takes us.” He smooths his palm over a fresh fade at his nape and the sharp angles of his goatee.

“And you, I see, have stopped in for a cut with Terrence in town. He loves the three slices like that.” That's how the barber marks his work. Terrence's shop is very popular.

“It’s a good signature. Wish I could'a convinced this big lug to get a trim.” Tom elbows his friend who stares at his feet.

Grant runs his fingers through his golden locks and swallows. “Yeah, well, maybe next time.”

Without realizing what you’re doing, you stand on the rungs of your stool behind the counter and reach for his lusciously full beard.

“Don’t you dare get rid of this,” you chide, fingertips grazing the skin of his cheek beneath the course yet soft hairs.

You should apologize. You should let go and sit back down. You should professionally hand them their key and be done with it, but instead, you linger, watching his blue eyes darken with a primal devastation.

He’s prey caught in a cage.

You release Grant’s face with an awkward laugh and a shake of your head.

Tom makes his own, very knowing face, and winks.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Grant clears his throat harshly and blushes, mumbling something about which room number you said they had and that he’ll bring the other bags from the car. He leaves. Tom takes the keys with another wink and a sassy tap on the hardwood.

“Thank ya, ma’am. We appreciate it.”

It’s about twenty minutes later when your pen rolls off the edge of the counter, you find a small duffle left where Grant stood.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Grant blurts when he finds you standing there to give it back.

You just smile and say Tom isn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you mutter, taking a chance to scratch at his bearded chin again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me.”

He looks back inside, as if seeking permission or checking to make sure his friend is still in the bathroom, singing in the shower.

Grant can’t seem to meet you halfway, but he does inch forward, struggling to word a simple ‘yes.’

The tentative embrace starts with only the top of his chest touching you, bent so his butt is out, no pressure on his hands at your shoulders, so you push a little more and a little more. You get close enough he needs to wrap his arms around you instead. He has to stand straight so his chin doesn’t poke your forehead. He whimpers slightly when your own arms encircle his tiny waist.

A few breaths later, he relaxes into a lovely full-body hug, his rough fingertips on your bare skin where your shirt bunched up. You’re both being human, no more, no less, tangled in simple comfort.

Grant tucks his face into your collarbone suddenly and squeezes, not so hard that it hurts but not gently either. The move tickles you with his beard, your hands pawing up his back as you giggle, and he whines like wounded prey.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothe. “I can be here, if you want, to hold. It’s okay.”

That has the opposite effect you intended, knocking him out of some soft reverie and launching him back a foot, a necessary but unwelcome distance.

Grant looks guilty, needy, and resigned as he thanks you for returning the bag and sees you out the door.

dividers by cafekitsune and firefly-graphics

A/N: This will be the shortest (probably) of all the parts, and yeah, we get into some smuttier moments pretty quickly... Stay tuned!

[Next Part: Sweet Baby]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

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