Hey can you please write something with Mean dom Steve and a Plus size Reader with some breeding kink or something
I am going feral just think about it 🫠
A/N: I know I've had these for a while. It takes me a hot minute! This is my first time utilizing Frat Boy Steve but alas...I love him in that hat so here we go.
Not a Dream (Frat!Boy Steve & Plus Size Y/N)
Warnings: Mean Dom Frat Boy Stevie & Subby Fem Plus Size Y/N, breeding kink, p in v, dirty talk, humiliation (calls her a slut and whore). Fluffy ending :)
Word Count: 1091
How could this be happening?
This was definitely a dream right?
Then why could you feel the coldness of the bathroom sink your breast were pressed against as your body lurched forward with every hard thrust coming from behind you? Why would you feel his fingers digging roughly into the meat of your hips as he held you in place between the counter and himself?
Why could you hear every sexy grunt that left his lips with every smack of his hips against your ass as he clung to your skirt that was bunched around your waist as leverage? Why could you clearly see his reflection within the mirror in front of you watching between your bodies as his large cock disappeared inside of your cunt before he pulled himself all the out and slammed himself back into you.
Honey irises met yours and he couldn’t help but smirk as his hand reached around you to grab your throat and pull you towards him till your back was against his hairy chest.
“Look at you, honey. Just falling apart on my dick like the good little slut you are.”, he murmured roughly, his words flowing through your curvy form down to your core that clenched around him.
No, this wasn’t a dream. University Football Captain and President of the Hawkins U Fraternity Steve Harrington was actually fucking you in the downstairs bathroom with the party he put together raging just on the other side.
“Fuck, your pussy feels too fucking good. What would your date say if he saw you like this? Hm?” When all you do is mewl, a growl emits from his throat. “I don’t like being ignored, little girl.”
Your arm tries to wrap around his neck but he roughly takes hold of the limb and traps it around your stomach with his own.
“Maybe since you won’t answer we can find out from the source.”
“No!”, you shout as he reaches for the door. “No, please.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. If you were my girl and I found you like this I’d drag you out by your hair in front of all those people and spank this sexy ass in front of the entire school.”
To punctuate his point, his palm loudly smacks your behind and you try to conceal your moan behind your palm.
“Dirty girl. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Tell me.”
“Yes, Steve, fuck.”
Calloused fingers slide down your thick tummy till they find your clit, rubbing firm circles against your nub that shoots an electricity through you till your head is leaning against his bare shoulder.
“He doesn’t fuck you this good, does he? You can open your legs for everyone on campus but no one will fuck you like me.” Your body pushes back against his but his grip remains firm as his digits move faster between your legs. “No, no, baby. Don’t run from it. That’s it. Cum on my cock…That’s it.”
Your frame trembles as you come undone, his fingers still maneuvering around your bundle of nerves till you finally stop shaking.
His smiling reflection meets yours in the mirror before he abruptly smacks your upper half back over the counter and sets a rough pace as he chases his own release. His palm tangles in your hair, smushing your cheek against the marble as he spanks your ass.
“Maybe I should cum inside you till I’m—fuck—till my balls are empty and I knock you up. Then everyone here will know who you fucking belong to. This pussy is mine, little whore. Say it.”
“My…my pussy is yours…Steve.”
“Beg me, Y/N.”
“Fuck, Steve, please! You own me! Fill me up so deep so everyone knows I belong to Steve Harrington.”
He grunts at your pleas till you feel his rhythm falter and he pounds his seed into your core, warming your insides.
You both pant till you feel him gradually pull his now softening cock out of your sore hole and kneel to the floor to pull your panties back up your legs.
“Seriously? You’re not going to even clean between my legs?”
The jock raises an inquiring eyebrow up at you as he adjusts your skirt before bouncing to his feet to do the same with your shirt.
“You said you wanted me to fill you up. Do you really think a tissue will help?”, he teases, leaning forward till his forehead rests on yours. “I don’t do anything halfway, honey.”
“Obviously.”, you giggle, your palms coming up to cup his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours. When he sighs, you pull back slightly to see his eyes are closed. “Are you ok?”
“I didn’t like seeing you with that fucker out there.”, he answers, gesturing towards the bathroom door.
“I know but my friend’s surprised me with a blind date. That’s what happens when you have a relationship that’s kept secret.”
“Then maybe we should tell people, huh?” Smiling your way, Steve takes off his cap and places it backward on your head just as it had been on his own. “You hang on to this now and then tonight after the party you can have my lettermen.”
“Ooooh, I feel special.”, you grin, reaching up to fix his hair and biting your bottom lip when he bends his knees a bit so you have easier access. “I’ll see you later?”
Nodding, he gives you one last peck before heading back out into his party making you laugh when hear him loudly exclaim in excitement as you assume he heads for the keg. You’re proven right when you saunter past him being held upside down by his friends as you find your own and throw your body down on the couch beside them.
“Where have you been?! Your date left!”, your friend shouts over the music in annoyance, her eyes taking you in as she blinks finally recognizing what was different. “Is that Douchebag Steve Harrington’s hat?! I thought you hated him!”
You shrug as your eyes flick his way, watching as he’s placed on his feet with beer dripping down his chin and chest, his nose scrunching as he laughs hard with his fraternity brothers.
“I did but turns out he’s not as big of an asshole as he appears to be.”
When his irises find yours, you uncross your legs before recrossing them, displaying your panties for half a second as you smirk and raise your glass his way just as he delivers you one of his signature knees weakening winks.
The windows of the Beemer are down, the wind grabbing Steve’s hair and tugging it in every direction. He sings along to Head Over Heels with complete abandon, even though fear follows him like a shadow.
They never did find it, the Demogorgon that came after him and Eddie. Every lead turned up a dead end. No gates, no more attacks, no re-awakened hive mind for El and Will.
Steve’s certain it’s still out there, but the how’s and whys are a mystery. It should’ve died when they killed Vecna; it shouldn’t have survived the final closing of every gate. But—
He drives down Hawkins’s dark, quiet streets, fear in the passenger seat, his fingers itching to reach for the stereo dial to tune into Hellfire. It’s a constant battle, like the conflict stuff they talked about in English class—him vs. himself, or whatever.
As impossible as it seems, he fucking misses Eddie. Loud, obnoxious, too enthusiastic. He was like that on the radio too, but Steve didn’t realize that was his actual personality; nowhere close to charming. Still, Steve finds himself flipping through stations just for the sound of Eddie's voice.
He thinks of Eddie the most while he’s doing his patrols, remembers his wild hair and wilder smile; his gleeful, manic laugh and sparkling button eyes; the way those eyes seemed to seek Steve out at every opportunity. And secretly, shamefully, the plumpness of his pink lips, the movement of his sinewy muscles under Steve’s hands, the tantalizing peeks of pale tattooed skin under Eddie's cut-off.
It’s not the act of wanting that makes him ashamed—he’s had plenty of time and conversations with Robin to come to terms with liking guys too—it’s the way he wants him.
What he wants to do to Eddie Munson are things he never considered, never even thought of, before. And he’d seen the magazines, of course, at a little alt bookstore Robin liked in Indy. The half-naked men in leather, the ball gags, the different colored bandanas, but it wasn’t something he was into. He thought. Until Eddie.
Eddie blabbed and blabbed, the excitement literally rolling off him as they drove to Hopper’s, and that only made Steve want it more. The need to demand, to make Eddie behave, rolled through him like thunder, almost more furious than he could contain.
Steve didn't tell Robin. The night of, he was awash in a desire he didn’t understand and then none of it mattered because he and Eddie weren’t allowed to know each other. It was for the best, he knew, but—
Well, he hadn’t really lived a life where he was denied the things he wanted, especially when it came to sex.
He jams his foot on the gas and turns the stereo up until Livin on a Prayer is the only thing he knows.
Who's ready for some more Hellfire Radio? Chapter 6, live now on ao3!
I love getting carried away, so I'm thinking thoughts about Steve relishing so hard in fucking and overwhelming Bucky that he loses his head just the same as his lover does...
It's been a long fucking day, minutes extended to hours, hours to days themselves, and the day a week itself, so this is exactly what Steve needed. All day, every minute, every hour, he needed this. He was thinking about this—
Bucky.
Balls deep in Bucky.
Well... not exactly yet. 😏
Sighing, Steve moves fluidly with the push of his heavy, humid exhale, stretching out across Bucky and reveling richly in the erotic, sweet way Bucky goes lax under his weight, letting Steve move his arms and legs wherever he pleases. Bucky is absolutely boneless, like butter soaking into freshly heated toast, and Steve hasn't even done anything yet; damn, if that thought doesn't make his lips curl into an fucking devious twist, though.
He hasn't done anything.
He's about to do so much.
He could live on this edge forever. He would. Maybe... if his arousal wasn't gnawing so hard at his nerves, sparking and aching, zealously urging him more more more.
Even more than curling ropes around easily bruiseable wrists and using even more length to ensnare Bucky's delicate ankles. Steve ensures that the silky, flowing rope is drawn tight enough to demand a full, obscene s p r e a d of his partner's gorgeous, lean body across their king-sized bed. He overwhelms the mattress with his hands by the corners of the headboard and toes-curled feet by either side of the footboard. He's stomach down, so Steve can't see but he just knows the planes of his abdomen have to be contracting and rippling, clenching in anticipation. As hard as Steve is, waiting to defile him, Bucky is aching and eager to be defiled.
He knows how Bucky gets.
Steve knows how he, himself, gets.
He can feel it now. Himself. The swirling chaos of everything he's felt throughout the day—annoyance, frustration, anger—dissapating. Clarity is creeping in as the heat burns away all that fog.
Bucky is like the sun: hotter than can be conceptualized.
Control is might be just as fucking hot.
So, having control given over oh-so fervently by Bucky is more than he can bear.
“Gnnnhh,” a guttural, chest-punching kind of sound bursts through Steve's clenched teeth. It's involuntary, scraping out of him, from deep in his heaving lungs. A detonation of boiling-over arousal given audio.
'Cause it feels so good—so goddamn good—to guide not just Bucky onto his belly underneath him, pinned bodily, not just to guide ropes around those beloved limbs, holding him that much tighter, controlling him harder, but to also guide the tip of his throbbing cock into his pretty, wet hole. His thick, blunt tip, wet with lube but also weeping pre-cum that pearls at the tight, hot, tingling slit.
In.
Yeahhh.
Bucky's stretched some, yes, but possibly not enough—
Bucky did that himself, earlier, responding to the tone of Steve's voice growling through the phone, updating Bucky as he was on his shitty fucking way home, goddammit. Bucky likes bite. Bucky likes it to hurt. Just a little. Just enough, always simpering with his soft, pouting eyes and big, wet eyes—make it hurt.
Bucky knows, too, how much it turns Steve on to really have to work to shove his horse-cock into his spasming, aching hole.
Bucky treats him so well.
Steve doesn't deserve him. Ever, really (not with everything he's done), but especially when he's hot-headed and out of his mind, just needing something to go right, something—someone to listen and obey, jumping exactly as high as he demands.
“Guh-good boy,” Steve struggles to speak, sliding in deeper, knowing the praise and sensation with have Bucky jumping—his cock jerking. Meanwhile, as his dick cries, smothered against their rucked-up, torn-up sheets, Steve's cock is rocking, rocking, rocking. Sliding in a little, pulling back a little, sliding deeper, back, deeper.
Bucky mewls. Like a goddamn cat in heat.
Yeah. Yeah.
The grin carved into Steve's stupid, stained-red face must be obscene.
That's the fucking spot.
His cocky satisfaction doesn't last, though; instead, it melts out of his ears like the last of his smarts. Bucky is so fucking hot inside. Wet with too much lube and not enough time spent getting his muscles lax—probably just one, maybe two fingers deep, curling in that wet hole—when he'd rather have Steve punch it in and work him into pliable, body-hot clay himself. Mold him. Make him take it.
Work it.
Fuck it.
Rolling his forehead against his shoulder, Steve can feel the seductive pull of his eyes back, rolling uncontrollably in their sockets. Christ. Hot. He's so hot. So hot inside. So tight. So wet. Too much. Hot.wet.tight. Hot. Wettighttighthot.
It's blinding.
Bucky.
Teeth-gritting. Groaning. Panting.
Bucky's hole quivering around him is more exquisite than any Heaven could be and hotter than any level of devious Hell could be. He is sin incarnate. The way he feels, the way he sounds, too, shit—
Haaaah! he whines, strung-out, as Steve slides in deeper, hilt of his rock hard cock to the plush curve of his thick ass.
Guh! he dumbly cries as Steve shifts inside him, not even rocking or thrusting. Shifting. Getting used to the vice grip of him, letting his cock warm up in his tight hole, so big he's perpetually pressed against his walls and his prostate, especially, stimulating him to near-tears.
Ah! Ah! AH! he wails like a needy pussycat, that sweet spot petted and patted rough enough until he's clawing the sheets to bits, as Steve grinds in and out of him, bodily pressed so tight against him except his hips, tipping them back, sliiiding out, slamming in, out, in, outinoutin—wanting to crawl fucking inside him, have him, possess him, but still needing to follow his drive to pillage, fuck, and claim. He has to move. He doesn't want to. He wants to stay inside him forever. Buried. He wants to fuck him to pieces. He wants.
He takes.
Steve can't fucking reason with what's coming out of himself, despite lapping up every delicious noise that comes from Bucky's mouth. He must be fucking growling. Groaning. Moaning. Bucky has him out of his mind.
White-hot.
Burning.
Melting.
Kissing, laving, mouthing, and moaning into the curve of Bucky's neck, chasing every drop of sweat and reverberation of his mewls in his strained neck. He is edible. His.
Steve is so out of it he's shaking, tip to tail, pushing his body to its limits. He is a well-oiled machine built to pleasure but maybe not built to take pleasure. It's too good. He can't take it.
Hottightwettighttighthotwet.
Even just the feeling of Bucky fighting to tip his hips back farther, desperate, wanting more cock, is enough to nearly set him off. Christ. Bucky's gonna make him lose it before they've really even gotten going. He's been fucking him for what, a handful of minutes? He can't bust yet, that'd be fucking humiliating, no matter if he can just get it up again immediately after. It's the principle of it.
Jesus.
Fighting it, tooth and nail, jaw creaking as he clenches it, Steve won't. He can't. He can't cum yet. Fuuck. He can't. Not with Bucky's well-muscled body under him. Those hips. That ass. Not to even fucking mention his hole.
So pretty—stretched out and pink when Steve barely gets ahold of himself to pry a handful of his asscheek wide, revealing that hole to himself.
So lewd.
About to get more fucking obscene, just wait. He's gonna cum buckets inside him. It'll drip out. It will.
But, Christ, not just his fuck-hole, even simply the shimmer of sweat coating his skin, pooling in the dimples at the small of his back is nearly too much for Steve. He's weak for Bucky. Every inch of him is erotic, whispering in tongues to Steve—lick me, taste me, eat me.
Steve's gonna fucking answer him.
His flesh.
Tied down, pleasured, and still wanting more.
Steve will give him more. He'll put his goddamn back into it, even if he can't take it himself. He will. Just like this.
He's going to devour him.
Fuck him.
Fill him.
Dominate him.
And absolutely lose his mind while doing it, cock throbbing, balls tight, whole body taut and ready to snap and spill.
Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics
Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon
Main Masterlist || AO3
Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there.
Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features.
Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family.
A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other.
Won together.
Lost together.
In the past few days died together.
“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory.
The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago.
“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor.
“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder.
“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it.
“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.”
She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?”
Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head.
Wanda looks down at her hands.
“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all.
Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?”
“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you.
“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off.
“I know, I did too.”
“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone.
Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart.
“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him.
“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows.
Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him.
“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places.
“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.”
“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene.
“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static.
“Wh-what?”
“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you.
“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens.
“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans.
You stand there dumbfounded.
As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.
Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor.
“I don’t care.” He says so easily.
You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you.
Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body.
Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you.
Eight months down the drain.
The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain.
“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.”
Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.”
“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face.
He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing.
“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell.
“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam.
“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated
that about the company’s past.
The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you.
“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away.
You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems.
True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together.
When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia.
The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed.
Opening it reveals a burner phone.
“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle.
“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it.
“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him.
Opening the text.
SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain.
You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol.
“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair.
“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?”
“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink.
The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync.
“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun.
“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.”
“So confident.” You raise your brows.
“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes.
“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck.
Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face.
“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes.
“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again.
You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you.
“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own.
“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.”
You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late.
Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel.
“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.
“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down.
Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.”
“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?”
“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him.
“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand.
“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head.
“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle.
“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well.
Both of you burst out laughing.
“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”
“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room.
“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?”
You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers.
Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered.
You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart.
Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes.
The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow.
“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself.
“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself.
Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him.
A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level.
Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights.
Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him.
You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him.
The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them.
Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried.
After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab.
“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn.
“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”
“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup.
“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own.
“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more.
You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him.
“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD.
“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him.
“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts.
“See we’ll be okay.” You declare.
Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits.
Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury.
Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair.
You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.
“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all.
“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff.
Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes.
“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds.
Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods.
“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder.
“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow.
“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.”
No one nods.
Nick shakes his head leaving the room.
“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder.
“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further.
“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh.
“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan.
Nat and Sam stare at you.
“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched.
Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze.
Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust.
Sam nods, “Well best we head back.”
“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile.
“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead.
“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone.
“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back.
His mouth opens again to speak.
Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?”
“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out.
Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.
He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.
You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting.
“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”
“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.
“Vision.” He acknowledges.
“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head.
Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.
“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says
Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.
“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.
“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators.
“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator.
“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him.
Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him.
You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away.
“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator.
Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you.
“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers.
“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again.
People trickle in and out.
Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you.
You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him.
Finally it's just the two of you.
The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender.
“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched.
“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker.
“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him.
“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes.
There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”
“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge.
“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him.
“You lied?” You repeat.
“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,”
Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up.
“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,”
The doors open to your floor, you step out.
“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!”
“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door.
“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading.
He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over.
Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place.
Mixed training was now mandatory.
You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you.
Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties.
Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down.
“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh.
“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh.
“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.”
“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen.
The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you.
You grin at him.
“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes.
“Y/N.”
Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there.
You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench.
Sam takes his arm away.
You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem.
“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news.
“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.”
You glare at him, “Alright.”
An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough.
“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout.
You frown in recognition.
“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him.
“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead.
“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans.
Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands.
Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space.
Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you.
The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper.
He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”
You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps.
The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area.
You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.”
“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”
You give another once over and then follow him back down the path.
Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward.
Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him.
Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate.
Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck.
Why can't you move away?
Why do you want more of him?
Why do you miss him?
He hurt you.
He lied.
He hurt you.
You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway.
It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way.
You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall.
Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!”
You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you.
A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing.
Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous.
The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.
“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps.
“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort.
“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across.
Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew.
He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you.
“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it.
“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him.
Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,”
“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place.
Your palms cover his, you look up at him.
You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him.
Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view.
“Poppet, something is wrong.”
You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled?
Why was he falling to his knees?
You look behind him, people standing and watching.
The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him.
“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield.
The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up.
“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body.
Steve keeps his eyes closed.
Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers.
How long was he out?
Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath.
He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them.
Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration.
“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.
“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm.
Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher.
“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend.
Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.”
A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own.
Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city.
Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside.
“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair.
Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you.
“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...”
He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors.
You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core.
“Steve—,”
“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you.
Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns.
The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?”
Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out.
“I see and why is she yours?”
He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.”
“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.
“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.
You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens.
“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling.
“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked.
“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper.
Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place.
“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.”
Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.
“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch.
“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him.
“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured.
“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.”
Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed.
“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper.
“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again.
“You can’t have him at risk again!”
“I won’t let you die!”
“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you.
Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”
“Save it.”
“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts.
“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,”
“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.”
“You are not dying.” Steve grits out.
“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features.
“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him.
“He’s in the United Kingdom.”
“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?”
The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!”
Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.
You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you.
Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive.
He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way.
“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain.
A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault.
“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad.
The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.”
You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento.
You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across.
Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows.
“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off.
You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him.
“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over.
“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him.
His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief.
“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well.
“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away.
“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin.
He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you.
Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there.
“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.
“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.
Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop.
“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek.
His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you.
His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.
“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,”
His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.
The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.
“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall.
“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you.
When your thighs clench around him, Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos.
Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before.
“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.
“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.
You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.
Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched.
Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.
The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.
He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him.
“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy.
The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,
“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.
It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders.
Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture.
Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.
As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.
Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.
As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly.
You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.
Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet.
The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.
You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek.
Your eyes meet their old home of blue.
“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.
He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.
Eddie naked on all fours on the bed, Steve standing next to him, assessing him like he's a judge at a dog show. Pushing him around to get him in the right posture, running his hands along his muscles, sticking his fingers in his mouth to check his teeth. Steve tsk-ing when he finds knots in his hair, bitten down nails. His hands dipping under to cup Eddie's heavy balls - he gives a pleased hum. His touch is fleeting over Eddie's straining cock, but that little stimulation leaves Eddie humping the air, whines escaping his mouth as he tries so hard to stay still, to be good.
After all, only prize studs get to breed a bitch like Steve.
Oh my god... this destroyed me 😳 I can just picture it. Eddie naked on all fours, cock hard and straining, almost purple from how badly he needs to come, collar round his neck. Steve ignoring how needy he is, humming when he sees and feels something he likes, tsking when he doesn't, like when Eddie humps the air and when he whines, stopping to give Eddie a little spank and telling him to behave if he wants to pass his assessment, because bad puppies go to the pound.
Also "ONLY PRIZE STUDS GET TO BREED A BITCH LIKE STEVE" 🥵🥵🥵 Yes Eddie's gonna get his treat, which is fucking Steve as hard and as rough as he wants, but he only gets to come when Steve says he can!!!
A/N: Like I said, may be getting a lot of Steve especially with like season one vibes except he kinda grew up to the fucker he could of been. But then again...that good boy is still in there I'm sure...
Not in this chapter though lol both characters are spicy with walls they put up for protection.
Charity today I'm linking is Operation Homefront. They help veterans find what they need and also help put food on their tables which right now with SNAP and everything ended, anything can help!
Warnings: Sugar Daddy/ Mean Steve Harrington & Fem Sub Stripper Y/N, SMUT, big dick Stevie is always a pleasure ;), p in v, mentions of overstimulation (oral f receiving), LOTS of dirty talk, Daddy kink (cause I'm me), lap dance.
ANGST, Steve is a meanie and cocky as hell especially around the middle forward, hurts y/n's feelings by calling her a "transaction" and how she spreads her legs to get what she wants, the relationship between them is consensual and she's aware she's getting paid after each intimate session. Reader is a strong willed being and doesn't have a problem speaking her mind with him.
Near the second half of this story, Y/N does leave the stripper life to start over, ends up in a relationship where shenanigans ensue. She does find out that Steve is in a relationship so cheating is mentioned.
I think that's it.
Word Count: 5354
"It's late night Thursday
I know that you heard me
But you don't want the same thing
Well two can play that game"
You hated dancing at the strip club especially on the weekends.
You enjoyed the empowerment of being on stage and having control of the men in the room but fucking hated their wolf whistles along with their audacity to reach up and touch your body.
Your boss always took care of you and the other girls though.
God forbid anyone got even remotely handsy, he would send his bouncers to come throw the person out, forcefully tossing them into the New York streets.
You hated dancing at the strip club on the weekends… except for Friday nights…
Every Friday, an hour before closing, he would stroll in as if he owned the place with his expensive suit and perfectly quaffed hair, take a seat at the shadowy booth in the back and wait.
The first time he came into the club, he drew your eye instantly from your place on the stage.
He never even glanced your way, ordering a drink from the waitress before leaning back against the leather to casually flirt with the dancer who went on after you.
You tried to ignore him but you couldn’t.
Something about this man pulled at you like a wave pulling someone further out to sea.
The first time you heard him speak was when your boss was trying to network even though he insisted you girls NEVER do this.
“Have you thought about investing in another building, Mr. Harrington? We bring in a ton of funds especially during the holidays and weekends.”
“I bet you do.”, he chuckled smoothly. “Unfortunately, I’m not looking to invest in another…building…anytime soon. Kind of got my eyes focused on people.”
“Oh, um, well if you change your mind—”
When he continued to talk, you took the opportunity, bumping into your boss roughly with your back.
“Fuck! Desmond, oh my God, I’m…I’m so sorry! Some asshole just fucking ran through our dressing rooms and—”
“What?! Excuse me, sir.”
Your worried irises follow him as he scurries in that direction and the moment he rounds the corner, you visibly relax and smirk his way.
“You’re welcome.”
“Thank you. I hate talking shop when I’m trying to have fun.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”, you sass, his eyes gliding along your frame as if to study you. “People don’t come to a strip club for ‘fun’. Not in my experience anyway.”
“Oh yeah? What do they come for?”
“Either they come to escape or they have nowhere else to go.” You lean your elbows against his table allowing him a good view of your breasts underneath your lacey red bralette. “Tell me, Mr. Harrington, which one are you?”
The man tilts towards you with an equally cocky smile, his nose mere centimeters from yours.
“I’ll tell you if you honor me with a dance.”
I’ll give you a dance if you tell me your name.”
“You don’t already know?”, he asks, amusement hiding under the snark.
“No, sir. Most men prefer to be anonymous and I’m good at keeping secrets. I’m also a good listener especially when your boss annoys his patron by saying his last name really loudly.”
You genuinely giggle and that makes him genuinely smile wider before extending his palm out towards you.
“Steve. Steve Harrington.”
“Y/N.”, you reply, shaking his strong, soft hands.
That night you gave him your all when you danced for him, feeling small under his intense stare in the best possible way.
He fascinated you, even more so when he didn’t try to touch you or himself while your body swayed in front him. A couple weeks passed before he even allowed you to sit on his lap and even then his hands remained around his drink while he asked you questions and vise versa.
You learned later he was building you up and the first time he actually did touch you intimately had you feeling like you were going to come undone right there.
Steve’s glass clinked as he placed it down beside him, his breath warming your ear as he continued to softly whisper.
“Do you want Daddy to touch you? Say it, honey. You know I need to hear your voice.”
“Please, Daddy, I need you to touch me.”, you whined, your naked body trying desperately to not grind against his suit covered frame. “I wanna feel you.”
The scruff on his chin lightly scratched your shoulder as he leaned against you, the fingers on his right-hand tracing along your stomach to your breast. Your breathing hiccupped at the cold that clung to the tips but when he gently ran them along your nipple, the sound that left your lips was obscene.
“How does that feel, Y/N?”
“So good. Fuck…please, more.”
“More? What more do you want, baby?”
“I—mmm—I want to feel your fingers in my pussy. I want your tongue on my clit. I-I-I want your cock to stretch me open, Daddy, please.”
You didn’t know but you were the first person to crack his hard, cocky exterior. He genuinely thought about giving you what you craved because he desperately wanted it to but he knew he had to wait.
“Soon, sweetheart. Until then, why don’t you touch yourself for me? Show Daddy how you get yourself off when you’re thinking about me.”
While he always left your body wanting, financially that was never the case.
Steve paid you after every encounter and every night when you got home, you stashed it away, saving it for a purpose you never conveyed.
A few weeks later, your heart broke when he didn’t show up like he normally did that Friday evening or the Friday after. Just as you began to harden your soul and prepare for his absence, he appeared in the parking lot, leaning against the wall outside.
“I thought you were done with us here.”, you sass, watching as his palm covers the end of the cigarette between his teeth to block the wind.
“Were you looking for me, baby?”, he replied with that signature smile that had butterflies flying around in your tummy.
“No. I just got used to seeing you, is all.” Steve casually blows smoke to the side and takes a step towards you. “You pay me well.”
“I see.” Again, he moves closer, the smell of his cologne wafting around you. “How would you like for me to pay you a bit more?”
“How?”
A throaty chuckle leaves him as he finally makes it to your space, his palm with the cigarette rising so his thumb could caress your bottom lip.
“By giving you what you’ve been craving.”
“Which is?”, you ask, trying to hide the need behind your tone.
Steve leans towards you, his mouth just inches from your ear.
“My cock stretching out your tight pussy.”
The following evening, he sent a car to pick you up and bring you to an expensive looking hotel room where you nervously knocked before his booming voiced allowed you entry.
You half expected him to be waiting on the bed but when you sauntered in, he was at the desk with glasses on, writing something down within a file. When he wheeled back and finally acknowledged your presence, he smiled as you shrunk into yourself a bit.
“Whoa, what happened there?”, he inquired.
“Nothing, you just look so handsome and I just got off work.”
“And?”
You absently gestured to your wild hair that was falling from its tie, the overexaggerated make-up Desmond had you wear, and short skirt paired with thigh high boots that made you visually seem trashy to other people.
Blinking, his smirk grew before he calmly placed his glasses on the desk and rose to his feet. Every time he stood in front of you, his broad physique consumed you in a good way. When you sat on his lap, you felt the power that emanated from him and desperately wanted to please him.
Taking ahold of your forearm he led you to the bathroom and proceeded to carefully remove your make-up along with your tight-fitting clothes. With every garment he discarded, a soft kiss followed.
“Steve…”, you mewled, your fingers reaching out to tangle in his hair.
His large palm abruptly grabbed your wrist.
“What did I say to call me when we’re together?” You try to pull out of his grasp but he insists, holding you tighter. “What did I say?”
“Daddy.” An angry exhale escapes through his nose and your bottom lip pouts out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disobey.”
Amber irises flick your way, taking in how innocent you appeared to be in that moment with your hand clinging to your arm as you shuffle your feet.
His cock twitched in his pants.
“Hey.”, he coos, lifting your chin with his index. “I forgive you. Daddy’s just real particular about that kind of thing. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It’s ok. I understand…I just forgot.”
Steve’s lips press to yours and your whole body comes to life.
That night he made you feel like the only girl in the world, focusing all his attention on you.
“D-Daddy, I…I can’t…when am I going to feel YOU?”, you pant, pushing up on your elbows to see his cocky grin as he lifts his face from between your legs.
“Are you not feeling me, honey?”, he teases, making you shudder and whine when he runs his wide tongue between your pussy lips. “I have to get you ready to take my dick, baby. You’ve grinded this sexy ass against me. You know how big I am.”
“I think I can handle you.”, you jest eliciting his eyebrows to rise to silently challenge you. “I know I can.”
After climbing up the length of your body, his eyes remained on your face as your gaze shifted between your bodies to watch him pull down his underwear allowing his cock to spring free.
“O-Oh.”
Steve slowly rolled his hips allowing his tip to drag through your slick and a heavy moan left you as you collapsed fully onto the mattress. His head tilts, watching you come apart just from this while he continues to allow his length to rub against you.
“Fuck…fuck…ok, I’m ready, Daddy. Please…”
The man above you allows you to whine a bit more, silently reminding you that you weren’t control, he was.
Without warning, he guides his cock into your entrance and just his bulbous head alone stretches your pussy to degree you had never experienced.
“Oh my God.”
Steve hadn’t said a word, allowing his body to speak while casually thrusting his hips, pushing himself deeper inside you while his gorgeous eyes continued to watch you take him. Your back arched and he paused, your fingernails digging deliciously into his own back.
“Is it…is that all of you?”
“No, baby, that’s just half.”, he murmured, his head falling beside your own. “I thought you could handle me.”
“I can. I can, Daddy…”
“I don’t know, honey. You sound like you’re struggling.”
“No, no, I’m not. I just…I feel so full…” The man groaned at your words, rolling his waist to allow him more access. Your legs wrapped around him and in turn one of his hands slid between you and the mattress to hold you closer. “I can take it. Give me all of you, baby, please.”
When his hips fully connected with yours, you saw stars, the moon, hell the whole Goddamn universe.
“No one’s ever taken all of me before.”, he whispers causing you both to pause. It’s another crack in his demeaner, a wall he’s built for a reason.
It’s ok. You have your walls to.
Your lips tenderly kiss his cheek as your fingers fully thread through his hair.
“Fuck me, Daddy. Use me and make me cum.”
That night and the many nights after he did what you asked; used you like a whore till you were both spent. It became a routine where he would come in on Friday’s and watch you dance, absorbing the way your body moved and the way men ogled what would be his that night.
A driver would take you both to the same hotel where he would fuck you till you could barely breathe, take care of you, and then the morning after he’d be gone with a stack of cash and a little note reminding you how beautiful you were.
After a year of this, however, things began to change.
It started small; no note on the nightstand in the morning or sending the car for you to drop you off at the hotel to find yourself alone and him not showing up till after you fell asleep.
Then it grew to him snapping at you more and more, the last night you were with him being the worst offender.
“Daddy? Are…are you ok?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”, he replied sharply, lighting his cigarette and turning his back on you to stand outside on the balcony.
“You…you’ve just been…really short lately and sometimes—”
“Jesus Christ, Y/N, this isn’t what this is.”
Your jaw tightens as you fold your arms and glare his way.
“This isn’t what, WHAT is, Steve?”
His head angrily snaps in your direction, flicking ash over the rail.
“What did I say to call me when—”
“I think when you stop showing up on time, start behaving differently, and become rude, I’m allowed to call you anything but!”
A sarcastic smirk paints his features as he takes a step towards you.
“At least I know you DO recognize your place. This is a transaction, little girl. I fuck you, I pay you. I don’t need you to ask me what’s wrong or how I am. You’re not my wife or my fucking girlfriend. You’re the whore I fuck to relieve my stress after a long fucking week.”
You blink back the pain at the bite in his words, suddenly aware that you’re in HIS hotel room, in HIS shirt, allowing HIM to talk down to you this way.
He watches you abruptly open the glass door and stomp back inside, tearing off his shirt to put on your own before following after you.
You don’t even look his way as he reaches into his wallet to produce a bunch of $100 dollar bills.
“Here. For tonight.”
Furiously, you take the money from his hand and toss it in his face, neither of you moving as it rains around you both. Grabbing your bag, you start to walk towards the door before pausing and turning back around to stride his way.
Your palm flies, smacking his cheek hard enough that he visibly flinches.
“I may be a stripper but let’s be clear, Steve Harrington, YOU’RE the whore. You parade around in your expensive suits, your fancy car and hotel rooms showing off your money the way we show our tits on that stage. The only difference is stripper’s dances end but your need to be seen never leaves, does it, baby?”
At your sarcasm, his eyes visibly darken.
“You spread your money like a whore spreads her legs but the truth of the matter is I didn’t need any of it! Just like I don’t need you, you fucking asshole!”
That week you called in sick, telling your boss you had the flu. When you finally showed up for work on Friday, you waited, watching the corner booth to see if he’d appear.
When he didn’t, you quit.
You didn’t even notify Desmond or anything, you just stopped showing up.
Utilizing your money, you contacted a relator and bought a photo studio downtown.
“This is actually under your budget so you can save a few bucks to buy all that other stuff photographers need.”, the man smiled as you continued to browse the area.
“Oh yeah? Like what, Liam? And you can’t say a camera!”, you joke, smirking when he laughs.
“Uh, lights and that flash thing they attach to the top of the camera.”
“You mean…the flash?”
“Listen ma’am, I’m a relator not a beautiful photographer like you. I don’t know the technical terms!”
You giggle at his quip as he takes a few steps closer to you.
“I may be overstepping my bounds but would you like to have dinner with me?”
“I’d like that. I, um, I just kinda…got out of a chaotic…well, life, if I’m being honest but…”, you pause as the heat rises in your cheeks. “…I’d like that if you’re willing to take your time.”
“Sweetheart, I got all the time in the world.”
****
Three months.
Three months since you left your old life behind and fully embraced the dream you always wanted; a studio with a steady clientele where you could take photos that people will see and appreciate.
Three months in a relatively calm and steady relationship with a man who lavished you not only in gifts but time and kindness.
Three months of not even thinking about Steve Harrington.
“Boo!”, your boyfriend shouts, running up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist.
“Liam! I’m trying to focus.”, you lightly scold, your limbs resting on top of his. “Do you think your family will like this?”
“Baby”, he whispers taking in the cake you had prepared. “My sister is a sugar junky. Trust me, she’d love anything you bring if it will give her that rush.”
“I just want them to like me.”, you reply, leaning further into him and smiling when he holds you tighter.
“They will, Y/N.”, he coos, kissing your cheek. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot but I promise, honey. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You’re safe with me and my family.”
You beam wide, giving him a soft kiss on the lips before he lets you go to allow you to finish getting ready.
An hour later, Liam was opening the car door for you in front of modest two-story house just outside of the city. Threading his fingers through yours, you allow him to lead you inside as he effortlessly opens the door without a key and shakes off the snow from his boots that had steadily began to fall.
“Alright, baby, just put your shoes there and let me take your coat.”
The man grins as your palms smooth out your long-sleeve black dress and readjust the white belt around your waist before checking to make sure your hair was still in place the way you left it.
“You look beautiful. Come on.”, your boyfriend urges, lightly yanking on your end. “Charlotte!? I’m here and I brought someone!”
A young lady a bit older than you, rounded the corner out of the kitchen and threw her arms in the air.
“Liam! You’re here! Oh and you brought sustenance!”
The man laughs awkwardly, patting her back and glancing your way.
“Um, yeah, Y/N here made this FOR THE FAMILY. You sound like you’ve had enough.”
The woman sarcastically rolls her eyes, opening her arms to pull you into her embrace.
“It’s so nice to meet you finally. Liam does not shut up about you. I’m Charlotte, the older and only sister.”
“Nice to meet you.”, you greet, pulling back to push yourself into Liam’s side.
“She’s a bit nervous.”
“No reason to be, sweetie. It took my fiancée a year to even meet mom and dad so you’re already way ahead in likeable points.”
“Um, thank you?”, you ask with a little laugh. “I-Is he here? Your fiancée? I’d love to meet him.”
Both siblings exchange a look with a knowing smirk, appreciating that you’re at least trying to be social able.
“He should be here before dinner or at least that’s what he said. Man is always away on business but hey…I love the bastard. Come on, let me introduce you to our parents.”
Your boyfriend’s hazel eyes follow you around the house as he allows his sister to do what she does best, talk and mingle. After some time and a good laugh or two, you opened up much more and came to really enjoy the people around you.
“Can I help you set the table?”
“Well, look at you, just so sweet. Would you mind draining the noodles and then putting them in that container? Oh! Liam, I think I heard the door open! Can you go check if it’s—”
“Yeah, yeah.”
You smile as he waves his sister off and bring the hot pot to the sink. It’s a bit bigger than what you’re accustomed to, having only made meals for one or two people but you do your best as you listen to everyone getting up to great the new person who entered the house.
“Stevie, baby, I’m so glad you’re here!”
“You said this was important to you so I’m here. Plus, I wanted to meet Liam’s new—”
The sound of crashing startled everyone but not as much as the fact that Steve Harrington was currently in the same house as you.
“Charlotte! This thing is twice as big as she is! I got it, honey.”, Liam defended, lifting the handles of the pot that had fallen in the sink.
You couldn’t move; you could barely breathe.
You ran from a life for a reason and part of that life somehow found its way back to you.
If Steve was rattled, he didn’t show it; his eyes fleeting from your face down your body.
“Are you ok?”, your boyfriend asked, his palms cupping your face.
“Huh? Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry, I just…I’m not as strong as I thought I was.”, you giggle, wiping your palms on the rag nearby. “This must be…the fiancée you mentioned.”
“Yup.”, Charlotte beams. “This is Steve Harrington. Steve, this is Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Nice to meet you.”, the man smirks, extending his hand to shake yours. You allow it for a split second before pulling back and circling your arm around your boyfriend. “It’s so odd, I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
Your eyes blink as you try not to scowl his way.
“Y/N’s a brilliant photographer. Maybe she’s taken a picture of one of your buildings or friends.”
“Hm, I don’t think so. A gorgeous woman like this wouldn’t be caught dead spending times with whores like us.”
“Oh my God.”, his fiancée sighs, lightly hitting his chest while his eyes remain glued on you.
“Y/N, I’m sorry. He’s got a mouth on him and zero tact for social situations…”
“It’s alright. I can be pretty mouthy to.”
###################
Dinner could not end fast enough and you could tell Steve was enjoying your discomfort.
You loved your boyfriend and usually loved the way he bragged about you but anytime he answered someone’s question about you, your stomach turned.
“So, Y/N, Liam said you two met when he showed you a studio for sale?”, his mother asked casually.
“Yes ma’am. He was incredibly sweet and made me laugh.”, you grin. “He also didn’t try to take advantage which I appreciate.”
“Studios in New York can be fairly expensive. Must have cost every penny.”, Steve remarked, smiling sarcastically towards you. “How much was it if you don’t mind me asking. Buildings are kind of my thing.”
“Like you said…”, you mumble. “…It cost me every penny.”
“Naw, she was definitely able to get some of her essentials because of me.”, Liam grins, wrapping his arm around the back of your chair.
“And you make a lot of money taking pictures?”
“Jesus, you really are focused on my finances. There are more important things than money.”
“Yeah? Like what?”, he counters.
“Manners for one. Empathy and respect.” You realize the tension in the room heightened and you lean into your boyfriend’s side. “Everything Liam has.”
The man smiles and tilts down to kiss your lips, hugging you tighter to him.
“Aw, you two are cute.”, Charlotte coos. “Y/N, now that you’re a part of our family, you’ll have to help me plan our wedding.”
“Oh, um—”
“Char, remember what we talked about?”, the boy beside you murmurs her way, coming to your defense.
“Calm down, Liam! Steve only proposed three months ago but I still feel like I’m behind. All my friends are like…”
As she continues to babble, your gaze shifts to the man across from you. He proposed to her after your fight…or maybe that’s why he was so short with you that night…because he asked her to marry him and he didn’t know how to let you go easy.
A thought hit you while your brain continued to spiral.
She said it took her fiancée a year before he met the family but—
“How long have you two been together?”, you ask abruptly.
“Oh, Jesus.”, Charlotte muses, looping her arm through Steve’s and leaning her head on his bicep. “Two years, I think. Right, baby?”
“If anyone would know, honey, it’d be you.”, he replied flatly causing your head to tilt.
“Well, your parents introduced us at that party they throw every year and we’ve been once since then. I swear, Y/N, sometimes my brain…”, she chuckles.
“Two years. That’s a long time.”, you smile. “It’s always good to find someone you know you can love and trust with all your heart.”
The businessman’s head snaps up at your comment, his eyes darkening before grinning your way.
“I like her, Liam. Don’t let this little girl go.”
“I don’t want to. I like her a lot and…I think you like me to?”, he teases making you giggle but out of the corner of your eye you swear you see Steve roll his own.
“I do and I like you guys to.”, you address the family. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything with…dropping the pot or—”
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it.”, Liam’s dad dismisses with a wave. “If we let every clumsy thing ruin a moment, we’d all hate each other.”
After you finish eating, you help clean the table while your boyfriend washes the dishes. Occasionally, he splashes water your way and you lightly laugh, pleading with him to stop unaware that you being watched by the businessman a few feet away. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you complete your needs and readjust your outfit while praying that this man from your past doesn’t ruin this new experience for you.
You weren’t that lucky.
The moment you opened the door, you were met with the annoyed features Steve Harrington.
“Of all the gin joints in all the world.”
“What do you want?” Pushing you backward, he shuts the door behind him as you smack his hand off your body. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why are you here?”
“Really, you fucking idiot? Because everything’s about you isn’t it?”
The man raised his finger, pointing it in your face.
“Watch your mouth when you talk to me.”
“Fuck you. I’m not your transaction anymore.”, you growl, sighing as you place your hands on your hips. “You really think I came here to pull some Fatal Attraction bullshit? You never told me anything about you. How the fuck would I know you were Liam’s brother-in-law.”
“Soon to be brother-in-law. We aren’t married yet.”, he exhales, leaning back against the sink.
“Please don’t ruin this for me.”, you whisper, his intense amber eyes taking in your fragile frame. “I left that life behind me and am finally doing something that makes me happy WITH someone who makes me happy.”
“I didn’t make you happy?”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Steve?” At his name, he stands to his full height. “Oh my God. Is that why you wouldn’t let me call you by your name? So you could keep your whore and your girlfriend apart?” You shake your head in disgust. “I guess I was right about why men come to the strip club. You were trying to escape something. Fuck you, Steven.”
“I thought you weren’t a whore.”, he says right as you reach for the knob. “That’s one of the last things you said to me. Then again, you’re still using your legs to get what you want, huh, baby?”
Turning around you smack his cheek hard.
“Gave you a discount and didn’t take advantage my ass. I bet that little pussy was able to get your studio at just the right price.”
Again, you hit him but he doesn’t budge, taking the force of your slap.
“Lord knows that pussy definitely helped pay for it with MY money. You’re fucking welcome.”
The hits came continuously and he absorbed each one till your arms steadily stopped swinging. His forehead hovered just above yours as you continued to pant out your anger, trying to catch your breath.
“I went to club that Saturday after you left the hotel but you weren’t there.”, Steve murmured. “That idiot said you called in saying you were sick.”
“I didn’t feel like…having men…paw at me especially after realizing I was putting a lot of my time into a man who was a two-faced douchebag.”, you reply in an equal register, his amber irises boring into your features.
One of his palms comes up to rest just to the side of your head allowing him to lean a bit closer and block you in.
“Was that the problem? Was Daddy to mean?”
You don’t know why but hearing him call himself that had tears creeping into your eyes but you suffocate them as quickly as the notion appeared; not allowing him to see you that way.
“Don’t. That’s not my life anymore.” As you swallow down the lump in your throat, you can’t help but finally meet his intense gaze. “Is that why you started changing? Because you were getting engaged?”
Steve’s head tilts at your question, trying to understand what chipped at your wall to even ask.
“Did I change? Or was I always like this and you just ignored it?”
“Fuck. Fucking hate this…petty bullshit! Why do I even—”
His hand clamping down on your mouth stops your rant dead in its tracks.
“You want to keep your old life a secret then lower your voice.”, he hissed gruffly, but there was something behind it that had your chest deflating.
He was enjoying this.
“Desmond said you were sick so I went on my business trip. That following Friday I came back with flowers and an apology but you were fucking gone. Figured you were done with me so I moved on…”
“Moved on?”, you whisper heatedly. “Which girl did you invest in after me?”
“Charlotte.”
“Well, she’s a lucky woman. Look, I won’t tell her about your infidelities if you won’t tell Liam about my past, ok?”
“Infidelity.”, he replied, fully letting you go and backing away from you slightly. “You were the only person I ever cheated on her with.”
“Bullshit.”
“Believe what you want, little girl. Your heard me talking that night. I was looking to invest, someone with zero ties to me…I found you…I enjoyed you. A woman who would let me fuck her the way I enjoyed instead of that…romantic, vanilla shit 24/7.”
“I don’t understand. Why not just break it off with her—” Your eyes widen as the realization hits you and you try to stifle the giggle with your palm over your lips. “Oh my God. She said your parents introduced you two. Mister Call Me Daddy can’t tell his own daddy to fuck off?”
The way his eyes narrow your way has that familiar flutter fly around your tummy.
“And what? You can’t fucking take the initiative in bed with her? Or are you to scared to try?”
Steve power walks your way but you’re faster, opening the bathroom door and slipping out into the hallway.
“Hey, honey.”, Liam greets. “I was looking for you. Everything alright?”
You nod, running to jump into his arms and passionately kiss his lips. Opening your eyes, you watch as the businessman gradually slides out of the room. A smirk lingering his lips as he shakes his head.
You won this round but little did you know that the game was just beginning.
hey so i just stumbled upon this and it’s like the hottest thing ive ever read 🫠 may i request more service dom steve?
related to this
Oh hey! I forgot I wrote that, lmao. Thanks for reminding me. As is though—
Fuck yeah, you can request more!
First, though, for everyone's discretion: somehow the nickname "kid" (for Bucky) came out of me when writing this, so if that's not your thing, maybe don't read this one. Also, yeah, the honorific of "sir" (for Steve) is here, a lightly mentioned age gap, pleasure dom/service dom, orgasm control/forced orgasms/multiple orgasms, crying, dirty talk, etc.
The absolute whine that peels out of Bucky's aching throat is sharp enough that it hurts his own ears through the ringing and pounding already overtaking his sense of hearing. Holy shit. Uselessly, his curled-up fingers, hands fisted loosely and stupidly, paw at the rumpled folds of sheets all around his head—trying and failing to get a grip. He's swimming in the sheets of their king-sized bed; he's swimming the sweat dripping down his arched back like he's stepped out from the shower, gliding in glistening trails from his quivering shoulders to the quirked arch of his spine.
Meanly, from behind him, Steve's voice, too, cuts. Sharp and achy but for an entirely different reason—the baritone sound of Steve's voice rumbling from his chest is far from embarrassing, it's arousing. So fucking arousing that even as trashed and used up as Bucky feels, the raw tip of his cock drags agonizingly against the sheets again, and it almost feels good.
It all feels good.
But it hurts!
Gah!
Guh!
Uh! Uh! AH!
It feels so good.
Agonizingly pleasurable, even.
Orgasm after orgasm torn from him under the blissful guise of a service dom turned out to be worse than the most sadistic of men Bucky's ever slept with.
Holy shit.
Oh! Oh! OH!
He whines and paws and cries.
And Steve, utterly composed with only a single, striking strand of silver-shot hair hanging over his sweating, blushing forehead, growls. He narrates. He sneers, hotly, meanly yet sweetly, too, like honey with a secret kick. He moves through the toe-curling, bone-breaking eroticism of fucking him like it's nothing—as if it doesn't matter that his cock is choked by a cock ring. He doesn't care about his pleasure. He cares about Bucky's pleasure.
Like a fucking incubus, he feeds off of Bucky's overwhelming, drowning pleasure. Fucking him. Crass as possible. Swiveling his hips, pounding, hammering, and crushing Bucky into the bed. There's gonna be an indent in the sweaty, sprawled, slutty shape of Bucky's messy body. An indent that might literally overflow with cum.
He can't feel anything but pleasure. Agonizing pleasure. Raw nerves. Buzzing. Trembling. Sobbing.
Steve doesn't care. He is lathering him with pleasure until there is nothing else.
There is nothing else.
Pleasure given—forced—by Steve.
Oh, so you want it? Take it. I fucking dare you. Take it.
Steve's huge shoulders are above him, his arms aren't even shaking! Just the bed and Bucky are shivering. Bucky is shaking like a vibration. He's a glass, resonating, about to shatter.
Steve's heavy bulk bodily pressing him against the mattress, his pelvis smacking against Bucky's fat ass, dying his skin a filthy, naughty red—like he's a bratty youngster who's been spanked for his trouble.
Steve's thick, ringed cock that feels so much bigger and hotter and throbbier because of his self-imposed control. His cage. His mouth-watering cock ring, keeping him from cumming, keeping him a toy, keeping him a sweet torturer dressed up as a living wet dream.
Steve's burning, low voice dragging like sharp, prickling stubble across the sensitive shell of his ear and back of his neck.
“You said you wanted to cum, Buck,” he taunts, as good at talking as he is fucking, which is to say: too good. Professional-level. Expert. Bucky would pay to be fucked like this. Destroyed like this. “So what's wrong?” He's even in relative control of his breathing, panting but practiced panting, breathing like he's running a marathon, not running a one-man train on his fucking younger boyfriend.
Shouldn't it be the other way around? Bucky's insides twist and shiver, tangled with teeth-gritting lust and shame, shouldn't Steve be unable to keep up with Bucky, older as the other silver-tinted man is? How then is Bucky begging for mercy with shrill whimpers and guttural moans, crying crocodile tears?
“Aren't you gonna cum?” His teeth cut through the air, snapping at Bucky's tenderized body as if he hasn't already been chewed up and spit out in the best way. “Aren't you gonna cum again?” He dares.
Cocky fucking bastard.
Bucky loves him.
He loves him so bad it hurts.
It hurts.
Jesusfuckingchrist.
“Huh?” Steve buries himself in deep, just grinding for long enough to send Bucky out of his own body, stuffed too full of cock, “is Sir not treating you good enough?” He rants, dangerous when left to his own devices, the horn dog unable to do anything but escalate, chasing tail. “What's the matter? Have you had enough? Are you sure? Ya sure?” He chuckles.
Bucky clenches in desperate need—being laughed at in his rawest state—as tight as he can be after what feels like a lifetime of being drilled into a drooling, fucked-out mess. Just a hole.
God.
“‘Cause I know this hole,” his big hands grope Bucky's ass, big, mean handfuls of it, spanking him just because he can. “An’ it ain't letting go of my cock. I can still feel it squeezing—” there he goes, grinding in so deep Bucky's own soul doesn't fit inside him, watching his body weakly, near-silently thrash and gape and take it. Barely take it. It's so good it's shattered him and the glass ceiling, he's beyond pleasure. Too much pleasure “—oh, it's shaking. It knows what it wants. It wants cock.”
Bucky convulses as best he can. Quivering. It isn't much. It's pathetic, really. He's so weak. Drained and spread thin, butter melted into hot toast.
“Can't you take it, baby? Do you even know what you want?”
He just cries.
Fuck.
Fuck Steve and his Adonis looks and gold-metal dick game and dumbifying dirty talk and endless patience for pleasuring Bucky without remorse. Too fucking good.
He can't!
He can't cum anymore!
Whether any of his choked-up, nearly-so-hoarse-it's-inaudible, incoherent cries make it to understandable words don't matter. Steve still plunders.
Holy. fucking. shit.
“I seem to remember you saying earlier you wanted Sir's cock and you wanted it like a toy.” He cuts out for a minute to moan under his breath, “Jesus, baby,” he shakes his head, grinning like a madman. He is. Insane. How can he do this to Bucky? “An’ now that’ya got it, you don't want it. Oh, kid,” he snarls, biting him, breaking him more. If that's even possible. “You. are. spoiled. rotten.” Every ferocious word ends with a stinging, spanking collision of his pelvis against Bucky's red-hot, burning ass.
Spanked.
Kid.
Oh, yeah. God. Yes!
He's not physically that small but beneath Steve, like this-? He's miniature.
Jesus Christ.
“You're soo lucky Sir gives you everything you want. Ain't nobody else would do this for ya. Say it,” he spits, venomous, “say it, kid.” His hands—the goddamn side of baseball mitts—fist his hair and pull, biting into the side of his slack, mouth-open, eyes-rolled-back, stupid red-hot face, “say ‘thank you, Sir.’”
“Atta boy!” Steve announces it like he's telling a whole arena of people how good his kid's ass is. And he yanks harder, his fist in Bucky's hair pulling him back, his cock in Bucky's ass shoved—speared—deeper, his tongue against the hinge of his jaw smearing slickly.
Bucky bursts into fucking flames. He doesn't know if there's anything left inside him, but if there is—he cums. And he cums everywhere.
Warning: porn without plot, literally porn, top Steve bottom Billy Lemon. +18. Literally 2174 words of porn. PORN. MINORS DNI.
First, there was an axe in his eyesight and there was a lot of blood. Then Steve opened his eyes and saw him. He saw Billy, standing with a big axe in hand. The exact clothes he was in when he died in the Starcourt. His chest looked scarred, probably because he was literally stabbed by a fucking monster. But he was there. And he was alive. And he was smiling down at Steve.
When he came to his senses the first thing Steve did was to take off Billy's clothes. Not saying hi, or maybe a hug or something no. He fucking started ripping off Billy’s clothes. Billy was not expecting that at all. He wasn't expecting to see anyone down there, yes, but also Steve? And him taking his clothes. No. It was not on his bucket list.
"I thought I lost you." Steve talked with his rough voice while trying to rip off Billy's tank top.
The bat attack totally affected his throat but absolutely did nothing to his body Billy though while watching Steve's body up and down. He has totally put on more muscle since Billy last saw him. He opened his mouth but closed it again. Don't know what to say. His eyes teared up when he looked at Steve's teary ones.
Without taking his eyes off from him, Steve shouted in a hoarse voice. "I thought I lost you. I thought you were dead! Why did you do it, Billy? Why did you leave me alone? Did you have to sacrifice yourself? We could have done it together. We could have beat it together!"
Billy opened his mouth to speak but he met the other boys lips instead. Rather than kissing, Steve seemed to be biting his lips in anger, with more teeth than tongue. As Steve's rough hands gripped his head, he moaned with pain and lust. He had missed this feeling so much.
Steve grabbed Billy's hair hard and pulled his head back. The blonde's lips were glistening with blood. Steve looked with anger to the other's face, not caring about his pain under his hands. "You fucking promised me you were gonna stay. You little slut. You said you're not gonna be like my parents, you said we are gonna be together forever. You said we are gonna leave that shit hole together."
With one quick move, he forced Billy onto his knees. He was looking at Steve with shock but Steve knew he was not an innocent prude. He's the best at this. Steve taught him everything he knew.
Steve opened his zipper and took off his hard dick. Billy was already salivating with the sign. He shook his hard dick in front of the blond and ordered. “Suck.”
Billy took Steve's dick in his mouth and started sucking it like his life depends on it. He missed Steve so much. He missed this so much.
Steve's hands found his hair again but he didn't force Billy, he just held them there. Billy closed his eyes and buried his nose in Steve's dark pubic hair. He smelled him with longing and Steve's dick stirred in his mouth with that. Billy moaned loudly and started sucking more sloppily.
Big hands came into his view and he closed his mouth violently. Then he raised the blonde's head up gentle but firmly and whispered. "Be quiet you whore, you're gonna get us killed in this hell hole."
Billy smirked naughtily. "Wouldn't be my first time."
"Enough." Billy felt the amusement leave his face as Steve hissed at him angrily and pushed his head back.
Steve quickly took off his pants and kneel down with a thud. He was face to face with Billy now. He started kissing him again but this time it was different. He was kissing him slowly like he was tasting his lips again. Trying to remember how they felt against his rough ones. But when they stop and start looking at each others eyes Steve quickly snapped out of it. He had a mission to do.
He pushed Billy on his back and started working on his painfully tight jeans. They were resisting staying on Billy's ass. But Steve won this race and wrestled the jeans out of his thick legs. Billy was looking thinner than he remembered.
"You're not gonna fuck me on the dirty floor of the upside down are you?" Billy asked hesitantly, not that he doesn't want it. It's been a year since they last saw each other. And he was dying for it.
"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you in every place on the fucking planet earth. I'm gonna fuck that tight hole of yours till you're a sobbing mess. I'm gonna make you my personal cumbag." Steve snarled between his teeth.
Billy was already a mess under him. His hard dick was shining with precum. He couldn't even find a word to say other than dumb moans leaving his mouth. He cried out when Steve animalistically turned his body and forced him to his hands and knees. He nearly screamed when he felt the warm spit on his rim.
They both gasped with shock when the bats began flying over their heads as they heard Billy's screams. Billy trembled with fear. Being here for so long didn't mean he wasn't afraid of them. Ever since the bats' first attack, he had escaped from them all around, hiding in the shadows, looking for a way to get the hell out of here.
Noticing the fear of the body beneath him, Steve straightened his body and placed a soft kiss on Billy's waist. Billy groaned again and the bats screamed louder, with that Steve quickly picked up the torn shirt off the floor and stuffed it into Billy’s mouth. Whispering in a dark voice. "I TOLD you to shut up slut."
Billy cried out around the tank top and arched his back more. Steve took the message and spit on his rim again. He buried his head into Billy's round ass and dip his tongue to his rim. Billy was so tight around his tongue. He moaned with the taste, he fucking missed this. He grabbed Billy's ass cheeks hard and opened him up more. His other hand slowly found his way to Billy's balls and squeezed them. Billy's dick twitched under his hand. He grabbed the cum dripping tip and slowly spread Billy's cum on his dick while his tongue was still working on opening him up.
Billy was a moaning mess under Steve. He wants to die right there like that. Steve's head between his ass cheeks and his hand on Billy's dick going up and down fast. His dick twitched again and he knew he was gonna come any second. He could feel Steve's saliva going down on his thighs and it makes all this even hotter. When he pushed his body down to Steve's hand and was ready to cum Steve's hand stayed still. He gripped the tip of Billy's dick with such force it made Billy cry. "I didn't give you permission to cum. Hold yourself or I'd hold it for you."
Steve took his hand off Billy and held his own dick. Spread Billy’s spit all around it and get into the position. He pushed himself in Billy’s tight hole with a groan. Billy whimpered and his eyes teared immediately, not because of the pain but because of how much he missed this feeling. Steve’s strong body behind him, on him, inside him. His large dick pushing his limits, opening his hole to the extreme. It was too much but not enough at the same time.
“Stevee,” he whined behind the tank top again, Steve didn’t even let him finish his word and started slamming his body to Billy’s. Billy was moaning between his pulling out and pushing ins. His thighs were shaking with pleasure, his dick was leaking uncontrollably.
Then his arms give up and he fell to the ground with a thud. Steve didn’t stop this time either. Instead, he hold Billy's belly and arched his back more. Pushed his shoulders on the ground with force. Billy’s cheek was on the ground when Steve's dick was slapping inside him rapidly. This gave him better access to fuck Billy now.
“Oh god, I fucking miss this so much.” Steve groaned while continuing his poundings. When Steve hit Billy's prostate he gave a loud cry as pleasure making his toes curl. His eyes blacked out and he started coming on his own chest. Steve followed him and he came inside Billy with a loud shout.
Billy was gonna make a comment about his voices when he realized Steve is still hard and he's still continuing fucking into him. He slowly raised his head and tapped the brunette with his head. Steve stopped a few seconds later because he was so lost in the feeling. When he stopped Billy gestured to the dirty tank top with his eyes. Steve slowly took it off and kissed his lips.
They both look at each other for a few seconds but when he felt Steve’s hard dick poking him he couldn’t help but push him back. Billy smirked with mischief in his eyes and slowly crawled on top of Steve’s lap. He arranged himself and sat on Steve’s dick like the pro he is.
Steve was ready to groan with the new feeling but Billy shut him up with his lips. He wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders and slowly started jumping up and down. “How are you still hard, pretty boy? What were they feeding you when I was gone?”
Steve raised his head and looked at the blonde longingly. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He fucking missed this asshole. “I missed you, you asshole. It’s been a year and I didn’t even touch myself.”
Billy stopped for a second. He could see Steve was holding himself from tearing up. He lowered his head and kissed his chapped lips with hunger. “You missed me?”
“Yes, I fucking missed you, you shithead! We had just started dating and your dumbass decided to sacrifice yourself. Do you really think I was gonna be happy and continue living my life? forget about you? I was in pain!” Steve’s voice trembled with agony.
Now Billy was tearing up too. But he didn't stop his motion. He started jumping faster on Steve's dick as he held his broad shoulders. “I miss you too. I miss you so much, Steve. I thought I would never see you again. I was so lonely down there. I thought you would forget me. I thought you forgot me and found someone else already.”
Steve started moving his hips with Billy's rhythm too. He holds the blonde curls tightly as he slowly fucks into Billy. They were moving like one body now, merging into each other. Billy's soft dick was already hard between their bodies now. Glistening with cum and twitching with the tight friction.
He kissed Billy’s plump dried lips with hunger. “I’d never leave you. You’re my baby blue. You’re my dirty blonde. You're fucking mine, Billy Hargrove. Even if you die I’d follow you and fuck you there too.”
Billy chuckled at Steve's mouth with that. Pressed his forehead to Steve’s sweaty one. They were a disaster, dirty with sweat and dust. He started riding Steve harder and whispered to his ear. “I’m yours, Steve Harrington. And you're fucking mine.”
And one last motion they were coming together. Billy’s vision blackened with pleasure as he was coming to Steve's chest and Steve was coming inside of him for the second time.
Everything went silent for a few seconds. There were not any voices around as Steve fell on his back exhaustively and Billy followed him behind and lay on his chest. He hugged the broad chest tightly. He bited one of Steve's nipples and Steve protested lazily.
Billy smirked. While drawing imaginery circles around Steve's chest hair. "You put on some muscles I see. You became such an eye candy, I liked it. Was it all for me or?"
Steve hugged the blondes' more slimmer body. He pulled one curl out of his ocean blues and kissed his forehead. "Yeah baby all for you. But I'm seeing you are getting thinner. I don't like it."
Billy raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "We don't have many food options here, you dingus." Steve squeezed his still fat ass with the nickname. "Don't talk to daddy like that. You bratty little slut."
Billy grinded himself on Steve's dick interestingly with that. "Ohh did daddy miss his bratty sub?"
Steve smirked naughtily and bit Billy's ear playfully. "Oh absolutely I'm gonna show you how mu-"
"Bam."
They turned their lefts with shock as they heard the loud voice. There were three people watching them with wide eyes.
Eddie looked at the other two girls and whisper-shouted excitedly. "Okay are we surprised about Billy being alive or Steve fucking him? Cause I'm feeling both right now."
Tagging: @monsterpegger001 @billysahoe @memes-saved-me (let me know if you wanna be tagged)
