I CAN DO THIS ALL DAY 🎀 21+

You’ve spent the day in the kitchen, putting together a little birthday surprise for Captain America, but it takes longer than you expect. So by the time you’ve cleaned up and put on your pretty party dress, you’re later than you wanted to be. It takes some searching before you find Steve drinking alone in a dark corner of the bar. 

For a moment, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake. Maybe Steve wants to be left alone on his birthday and that’s why he didn’t tell anyone. The only reason you know about it is because you’ve studied the files of all the Avengers—and, let’s be honest, paid far more attention to Steve’s than any other.

But then those soulful blue eyes raise and meet yours, and you see a sadness so deep, it nearly cracks your heart in two. You’re so overcome with sympathy for the man out of time that it takes you a moment before you realize he’s seen you, and that means there’s no way you can back out of your plan now. 

So you walk forward, your hands tucked behind your back, keeping your surprise a secret.

“Hi, cap,” you greet him cheerily, watching as he gives you a friendly enough nod. It’s not the warm welcome you’d hoped for, but you can’t begrudge him much.

“Hey, happy fourth,” he says before taking another sip of his beer, the hard Asgardian stuff Thor brought from his home realm. When it doesn’t seem like Steve’s going to say anything more, you take a fortifying breath and pull your hands from behind your back.

“Happy birthday!” you say, holding up an extra large cupcake with frosting and an unlit candle sticking out of it. You didn’t know what flavor Steve liked, so you went with chocolate, vanilla frosting and red, white and blue sprinkles. 

For a moment, Steve just stares at the cupcake in your hands and you wonder again if you’ve made a mistake. The silence drags on, and you have to move so the awkwardness doesn’t swallow you whole. Setting the cupcake on the bar, you pull a lighter from the pocket of your dress.

“I know everyone’s busy celebrating the fourth, but I didn’t want you to think we all forgot about you,” you babble, lighting the candle in the cupcake. “Well, Tony may have, but I didn’t.” You raise your gaze to the super-soldier’s face, giving him a hesitant smile. “I hope you like chocolate.”

Steve stares at you for a long, long moment—so long, it takes all your SHIELD training to stop from squirming under the intensity in his blue eyes. Then the bottle of beer he’d been holding thunks down on the bar and Steve’s arms are wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest while he buries his face in your neck. 

Your arms wind around his broad shoulders on instinct, your fingers sliding against the muscles that are tense beneath the soft cotton of his blue button-up shirt. You knead softly against his bunched-up muscles until he lets out a shuddering exhale and begins to relax into the hug.

The super-soldier’s big body is hunched over yours, and he’s crushing you slightly against his chest, but you hug Steve right back, knowing somehow that he needs this little bit of physical connection. You tuck your face into Steve’s neck, murmuring soft sounds of comfort as you squeeze him tight. 

Steve holds you for so long that your hands grow bolder, your fingers sinking into the soft blond hair at the back of his head. You card your fingers through his hair, raking your nails lightly against his skin until he’s shuddering in your arms and holding onto you even tighter, like you’re the lifeline he desperately needs.

It’s a long time before the big man pulls away, and you’re almost sorry he does, missing the strong bands of his arms around your back, and the steady thrum of his heart against your chest. You swallow down the emotions forming a lump in your throat and watch as the super-soldier mumbles an apology for grabbing you like that.

At first, Steve won’t meet your eye, but when he does, you give him a lopsided smile. “Everyone gets a birthday hug,” you tell him, hoping the nonsensical words will make him feel better. Thankfully, they seem to, and Steve’s shoulders lower from where they’d bunched up around his ears.

The two of you stare at each other for a beat longer than normal, and your smile hitches higher when you see his expression looks lighter than it did when you’d approached. You both look away at the same moment, your eyes finding the cupcake still sitting on the bar. 

The candle has nearly burned down to the frosting and Steve pauses a moment before quickly blowing it out. You clap your hands, the sound almost drowned out by the party still going on in Avengers Tower.

“I hope you made a good wish,” you say, just to fill the muted silence between you two, and rush to continue. “But don’t tell me what it is, or else it won’t come true.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth flickers in a smile. “I think this one will,” he says, his hand finding yours and twining your fingers together. You glance down at your joined hands before his blue eyes capture your attention and his mouth curves into a bigger smile. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Anytime,” you try to say blithely, but your voice is a little too breathless for you to sound as casual as you want. Tension snaps and crackles in the space between you and Steve. Instinctively, you lean closer to him, spontaneously deciding to press a kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, cap,” you murmur, lingering close to him, breathing in the masculine scent of him.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get out of here,” Steve rumbles, grabbing the cupcake off the bar and towing you away from the party by your clasped hands. 

The two of you ride the elevator down to the kitchen, where you find some forks and share the extra-large cupcake together. Steve looks happier than he did at the party as the two of you talk and get to know each other better, his smiles coming more easily as you become more comfortable together. 

You have no way of knowning that you’re making Steve’s birthday wish come true, just by becoming his friend. And you also have no way of knowing that the two of you will become much more than friends. But what you do know is that you’ll never forget Steve Rogers’ birthday, and you’ll do everything you can to make it special every year you’re together.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

The happy relief on their faces as well as the tension leaving their shoulders told you they would behave. Sure, they both had their bull-headed moments, but the two had never intentionally bulldozed over your thoughts and ideas when you worked with them in the past.

In fact, they'd been the first guys you'd ever really met that had actually listened to you from the start. None of the men in your family nor the guys you typically dated would did that. Instead, they'd pretend to listen before barreling through with whatever they thought best. It hadn't mattered who they might hurt as long as they got what they want. If they didn't, well, then you made a good scapegoat.

Any lip from you would only earn you a hard smack or fist to wherever they could reach first on you.

Your ex had been the worst offended of them all, and he'd been the reason you found yourself here in the Tower. He'd also been the reason for your broken arm and the other bruises that had started healing in the past week or so. His anger had never been so high before, and you'd known he meant to kill you. He would have, too, if you hadn't made your escape when you did.

There had been no question where you would go, either.

Steve and Bucky, since the beginning of your friendship, had been your one safety net. They'd never made demands of you like the others had nor had they ever dismissed you as a simpleton just because you happened to be born female. No, they valued your opinions and even encouraged them, especially during their livelier debates. They invited you places they knew you'd enjoy, too.

It'd been so easy to seek them out when you had to get away.

Broken and bleeding, you'd made your way to the Tower and nearly collapsed right in the lobby as the new receptionist first denied you access to the upper floors. It'd only been when Lucy, the regular receptionist, returned from her break that you were quickly whisked up to the medical ward.

Steve and Bucky had been informed as had the other Avengers about your state. It'd been one of the first times you'd ever seen Bucky and Steve truly and terrifyingly angry. Yet, you'd known it wasn't aimed at you but the scum you'd called a boyfriend for far longer than you should've. When they would've done something about it, you'd begged them not to. Kept repeating your ex wasn't worth them getting into trouble for messing with a civilian.

While they finally promised not to do anything, you didn't know that one Natasha Romanoff had paid her own visit to your ex. She never made you any such promise, and she refused to let any man put his hands on a woman as sweet as you if she could help it. Plus, her loyalty to Steve and Bucky dictated some justice be meted out for this piece of absolute trash. With the record your ex had and some serious outstanding warrants, she moved quickly. This included having a little fun with him before dressing him up and presenting him to the local precinct for further justice.

The last you ever heard or saw of your ex was the news one evening. They detailed briefly how he'd been wanted in a few different states, but they'd only have their shot after New York was through with him. Your name was never mentioned, but your ex was looking at spending the rest of his life in prison.

Free of him at last, you shook the painful memories from your mind and focused on healing every scar he created.

Steve and Bucky had bent over themselves to do whatever they could for you over the past couple of weeks. They had truly been the sweetest, most attentive guys you could've ever dreamed of. If anyone could be real knights in shining armor, it was them. You didn't know what you did to deserve them, but you knew you wouldn't ever trade them for anything.

That included moments like the one you currently found yourself in.

They walked beside you into the kitchen.

Well, they did until Bucky carefully scooped you up, earning a squeak of surprise from you, and deposited you on the island.

Not one to be left out, Steve nudged Bucky aside, so he could adjust your position into as comfortable one as possible. He offered you a small grin before asking, "What are we making for dinner, sweetheart?"

You named your favorite dish.

They shared a look, almost as if they should've known it'd be the one you wanted, then set about getting all the pots and pans they'd need. Cabinets opened and closed with an efficiency that would've stunned you if you hadn't seen them in action before. The two were so coordinated in their movements that it was almost like you were watching an intricate dance. Neither ever got in the way of the other, even as multiple moving parts became involved.

Truly a beautiful sight to experience, you couldn't help thinking.

Within minutes, they had everything they needed spread out across the island. It truly amazed you to see every ingredient needed, in plentiful supply, sitting next to all their supplies. No one in your family had ever bothered to learn what you liked, let alone kept it in such abundance in their kitchen. To see it laid out so easily and readily in the Avengers' kitchen, you had to bite back unbidden tears.

You even raised your head to the overhead lights in the hopes of stemming them, silently begging them not to fall. As much as you knew they wouldn't care if you showed signs of weakness, old habits died hard. You knew from experience. Plus, you really didn't want to ruin what was a wonderful thought on their part.

Two gentle squeezes, one on each knee, brought your gaze back down to meet theirs.

"We're ready when you are, sweetheart," Bucky said softly. Leave it to him not to call attention to your current wobbly state. You honestly couldn't be more grateful for him in that moment.

Steve nodded. "Tell us what to do. We're your hands tonight."

When Steve's gaze met yours full-on, you could almost imagine he wanted to add, and every night if you'll let us.

But, that was wishful thinking on your part. Selfish, too, to want their undivided attention. You weren't in any shape to dive into another relationship so soon after your ex. Even if you were ready, how could you ever choose between them? Or more selfishly, ask them to not make you choose between them.

Such hopes and dreams weren't meant for you though.

So, you pushed them aside and focused on the task at hand.

Clearing your throat, you put both men to work.

Like before, they fell into a natural rhythm that worked to almost hypnotize and lull you into a peace you'd never truly experienced in your lifetime.

"Bucky, watch that pot," you called out when he got too close.

You hadn't needed to worry as Steve had snatched the pot and pushed it out of harm's way. It didn't stop Bucky from sending you a grateful smile before he returned his attention to the veggies he was chopping. Nothing could've stopped you from returning his smile, your feet kicking from where they dangled below you.

"Ah, there's that pretty smile we love so much," Steve said, his own matching yours and Bucky's as he spared you a glance. "How's the arm doing, sweetheart? Need a break from up there?"

"Nah, I'm fine. It's easier to watch you two up here anyway."

You ducked your head, warmth suffusing your cheeks at his caring.

A chopped veggie entered your vision a moment later while Bucky softly commanded, "Open, sweetheart. Gotta keep your energy up if we're going to get through this prep."

That started them both sneaking you bits of food as they worked, creating each part of the meal you'd wanted to perfection. It never once dawned on you that they'd been paying attention to what you liked and how much they'd practiced your favorite foods for a moment just like this. No, this felt more like two friends doing what they could for another in a small time of need, and you appreciated that. You really did.

Over the next thirty or so minutes, you sat on the island's top and directed them now and again. Between your short instructions, they continued to feed you bits of the meal. They didn't stop until you warned you'd be too full to eat with them if you ate any more. That wouldn't do as they wanted you at the table between them.

"You'd be missed too much," they assured you even though you highly doubted that.

They must've read your disbelief because Steve stepped away from the stove and moved into your space. His hands cupped your cheeks while his thumbs grazed against your cheekbones. "You have more friends than you think here, sweetheart."

"He's not wrong." Bucky moved behind Steve's shoulder, his hand dropping to your knee and squeezing. "You're loved here and always wanted."

Emotions thickened into a tight lump in your throat. It took some effort to swallow it back down even as you blinked back more tears. A full minute went by before you could choke out a simple thanks.

Sensing you needed a break, the guys went back to work and quickly finished up their prep.

Soon enough, they had everything finished to your satisfaction and set on the table for the others to join you three.

Only when they were satisfied did Steve come back and carry you to the table despite your protests you could walk. "It's only fair after Bucky got his turn, sweetheart."

"Fine, but no more after this," you warned.

Both men merely grinned at you, saying simultaneously, "We'll see about that."

Everyone slowly made their way to the table. As they did, they all raised their brows at the sheer amount of food and the pleasing smells filling the room. Soon enough, they all gushed over the food and complimented you for your efforts.

"Oh, this was all Steve and Bucky. I didn't do that much," you said, not about to take credit for something you didn't do.

"Well, this is the best they've ever done. Whatever you did, keep it up," Tony said between bites. He even shot you a wide grin and a wink before moving back to his conversation with Pepper and Dr. Banner.

As you took a bite, Nat leaned forward where she sat across from you. Her lips formed their signature smirk as she eyed the two men sitting on either side of you before saying, "I'd have to second Tony. You're definitely magic in the kitchen where they're concerned. Or maybe, just maybe, you've given them good reason to give their best tonight."

Steve choked on the bite he'd taken while Bucky hastily grabbed up his cup.

"Leave it alone, Romanoff," Bucky growled, which puzzled you though your attention had already shifted fully to Steve.

You thumped Steve's back a few times before he finally nodded. "I'm okay, sweetheart."

"Anyway," Nat said, clearly unfazed, "I'd say you're a definite keeper. If you can get these two to do so well, I can't wait to see what you can do when that arm heals. Maybe I'll even seek you out for some pointers myself."

Hearing such high praise from the Black Widow herself, you ducked your head, warmth once more suffusing your cheeks.

You didn't catch the deadly glares being shot at her from both super soldiers. In their humble opinions, the only ones allowed to fluster you were them, not Nat who's clearly stirring up trouble. You definitely didn't see Nat merely sink back in her chair, pleased with the way she'd gained the upper hand against them. Now, she knew she could tease and flirt with you to get a rise out of them both. All in good fun, though, as she knew how much you meant to them and them to you.

In fact, it was obvious to everyone at the table except it seemed the three of you. They also recognized you needed a bit of time to mourn and work through the trauma you'd endured at the hands of your abusive ex. They didn't mind giving you a helping hand there, either.

After all, it seemed the three of you were meant to cook together.

From now until the end.

The doctors had ordered it to better help you heal your injuries, especially the nasty knock you'd taken to your head. They've been monitoring your progress ever since, and they're all relatively optimistic you'll make a full recovery. You just needed time to recover, and that's what they were giving you.

Having taken a heavy knock in the same incident that's led to your current predicament, Steve hadn't needed to be induced. His serum would take care of any healing his body needed, and it has for the most part.

The only hiccup had occurred when he woke up and couldn't recall the past couple of years.

It'd been a real shock to learn that not only had they won against Loki in New York, but his best friend hadn't died that day on the train as he'd thought for so long. He'd also made friends with another guy, who'd been sitting at his bedside as much as the others. That same man had been an integral part in assisting him and Nat to get Bucky back.

Steve found he really liked Sam, who seemed to always have a knack to lighten the mood. Sam also had a special knack for driving Bucky crazy, which was equal parts exasperating and amusing.

He'd also met Sharon Carter, another who'd helped to save Bucky from Hydra and taking Hydra down after they'd infiltrated SHIELD at all levels. She was definitely nice enough, and he really liked the spark he saw within her that reminded him so much of Peggy.

While she had checked in to see how he was doing, it was actually you that had drawn her to the room.

You were apparently good friends with Sharon, having served as an agent alongside her for a few years before you joined the ranks of the Avengers. She quickly filled Steve in on how you'd gained psychic powers after exposure to the Mind Stone. With some help from the others, you'd quickly risen into their ranks and helped them on several missions.

Hearing Sharon talk about you really made Steve sad that he couldn't remember you.

You seemed like someone who cared about the team and them for you in return.

He wanted to remember you. He really did.

Before Sharon left, he couldn't asking, "Why hasn't her fiance visited her? What's got him so hung up that he can't be here when she clearly needs him?"

"Well, it seems he's a little lost at the moment. I'm sure he'll come as soon as he can," Sharon said with a not-unkind smirk spreading across her features. It softens into a genuine smile when she glanced at you again, still sleeping so peacefully. "He really loves her. I've seen it firsthand just how much. They're both so lucky to have someone who cares so much about them. I know he'd never leave her alone unless something kept him from being at her side."

Steve wasn't so sure about that.

He couldn't be.

From what the others had told him, he'd been ready and willing to burn the world down to get Bucky back. He'd done everything he could to keep his other friends safe. He'd almost died doing so, but then, that sounded like him.

Something seemed off about this fiance of yours.

If it was him, he knew he'd never let anyone or anything keep him from your side.

Even if he couldn't recall who you were, something about your presence calmed him. It made him want to stay at your side and keep you safe. Your fiance was a lucky guy alright, but did he really deserve you? Steve couldn't keep that question from repeating itself as the days wore on.

The only other thing bothering him were a pair of eyes that haunted him in the few hours of sleep he got. He never saw more than these eyes, no other defining features, but they were so distinct that he doubted he could focus on anything but them. They were so distinctive and lovely. He'd seen them through a myriad of different emotions, too, as though he knew them.

But he couldn't ever place them.

He tried, too. He really did.

Every new person that came into his room, he studied their eyes in the hopes of finding the pair that haunted him.

The notebook Bucky had brought him quickly filled with every iteration of those eyes. He couldn't stop drawing them, hoping they'd spark something. Anything.

When the doctors tried to release him after his first day, Steve refused to leave.

Your fiance still hadn't shown up, and he couldn't let you stay in this room by yourself. It wouldn't be right. You deserved to have someone watch over you and keep you safe, even if you couldn't be safer than in the Tower's medical ward.

"Hey, man, she'll be fine," Sam had said, but Steve had shaken his head.

Nat and Bucky tried to back Sam's assertion up with Bucky adding, "You could use a real shower, punk. It's not like we can't visit her later."

"I'll use the shower here. Just bring me some things from my quarters, please," Steve said softly, his gaze remaining on you. "She shouldn't be alone. She doesn't like it."

"How do you know that?" Nat asked, her curiosity piquing. "Are you remembering?"

Steve shook his head.

How he wished he was, but no, he just simply knew. It wasn't something he could explain; it was instinctual, almost like knowing the sun rose in the mornings and set in the evenings. He just knew that you hated waking up alone, and he couldn't let you do that when the time came.

The doctors said it could be any time after they'd weaned you off all the medications that kept you in the coma. Your signs remained stable, so it really was just a matter of when you would come back to them.

Over the next few minutes, they finally convinced him to take an hour. Get some of the food Tony had ordered in, take a shower in his quarters, and then he could come back. Bucky had even set an alarm on his watch while Nat promised not to let to your side until Steve returned.

To his credit, he did take the shower, insisting on it first. The shower did actually help him feel better as he wiped away the last couple of days from his skin. What wounds he'd had already healed up, leaving it easier to clean up fast.

Sam and Bucky, having waited on him in his little sitting area, followed him to the common areas where they loaded up their own plates. Whenever Steve would try and bypass something else from the massive amounts of food, they'd redirect him until his plate practically overflowed. In fact, they made sure he had enough food that it required a tray, which Bucky insisted on carrying for him while Sam handled both his and Bucky's plates.

"You know she's not going anywhere," Sam teased even as he quickened his steps to keep up with Steve's purposeful stride. "Your hour is definitely not up yet, man. Just relax a little."

While he knew Sam had a point, Steve couldn't shake the thought of you. He definitely couldn't shake his desire to sit beside you. It didn't matter that no memories had stirred in the last couple of days. All he knew deep down is that your presence soothed him even as his ire had risen at your absent fiance.

Low voices and the occasional giggle reached his enhanced hearing as he neared your medical room.

Figuring Nat was probably on the phone, Steve wasn't anywhere near ready to see you actually awake and interacting with Nat.

When your face slid his way, he nearly fell to his knees.

Your eyes.

He knew those eyes.

They'd been the exact same ones that had haunted him these past few days. The ones he hadn't seen you open yet had seen so clearly in his dreams.

The longer your gaze synced with his, the more everything started coming back to him.

The total cliche of a B-rated rom-com that you enjoyed watching.

"Ah, there it is," Nat said, clearly thrilled at seeing recognition lighting up his features once more as he stared at you. "Was wondering when he'd finally remember. He's been sitting in his bed next to you, ready to beat up your fiance. No idea at all that he was that fiance or that he'd been here with you the entire time."

Maybe he should've felt a little silly for not realizing it sooner, but he couldn't care at that moment.

No, all that mattered was he remembered you. That you were awake and seemed just fine, too. That he hadn't lost out of his future because the two of you would pull through.

"Morning, beautiful," he said softly, finally closing the distance between you. He placed a gentle kiss against your wrapped forehead. "I trust you slept well."

Your smile, always so beautiful, beamed up at him as you came back with your usual reply. "I always do with you around. Thank you for being here with me."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be."

Using the case of beer and the bag of ice he brought to hide his growing bulge, Steve adjusts himself, forcing his eyes away from you and that skimpy, sinful bikini. He greets your dad and helps add the ice and beer to a cooler, catching up with his friend while diligently refusing to look in your direction.

However, as soon as your dad is gone, leaving Steve with a group of men their age, he can’t help but let his eyes find you in the small crowd milling about in the backyard. Your eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses so he can’t see your full expression, but he’s certain the impertinent smirk on your face is for him. 

Steve drags his attention back to the conversation he’s in the middle of, but when your high-pitched shriek rings out, he nearly gets whiplash turning and looking for you to see what’s wrong. By the time his eyes find you, you’re already giggling, the glistening wetness of a spilled drink dripping on your skin, trailing between your tits and down to your navel. 

As he watches, you turn and jump into the pool to clean off, the rest of the girls and some guys your age joining in. Steve is unabashedly watching your every movement, grunting every once in a while to the people around him, thankful for the sunglasses he’s wearing so none of the men will know he’s staring at their host’s daughter.

He can feel himself growing hard again as he watches you splash about and laugh in the pool, playing some kind of game with the others. Steve’s control is beginning to weaken, and he’s just about to excuse himself to go into the house and cool off when a guy from the neighborhood—a guy Steve knows for a fact has asked you out before—swims up behind you and grabs your hips, lifting you up and tossing you into the water.

Red-hot rage and bitter jealousy swirls in Steve’s gut and before he can stop himself, he’s storming off, his bare feet pounding on the deck before he bursts through the sliding door to the kitchen. The door makes a satisfying thunk as he slams it behind him, and he sucks in a deep breath, trying to let the silence of the empty kitchen calm him. 

He tosses his empty beer bottle into the recycling beneath the sink and grips the counter hard enough he’s worried he’ll dent it or hurt his fingers. He can’t think straight, he can’t see straight. All he can see is another man’s hands on your body when it should be his hands on you. It should only ever be him touching you.

The quiet whoosh of the sliding door opening and closing brings Steve back to the moment, but he still clings to the counter. It’s the only thing stopping him from flying off the handle and doing something reckless—like hauling you into his arms and kissing you senseless in front of your parents and the entire neighborhood. 

His back is to the door, so he doesn’t notice you until you’re beside him, your hand skimming down his taut forearm until you can slip your fingers into his palm, pulling his grip away from the counter. He softens his grip so he doesn’t hurt you and turns to look at you.

Your eyes are sparkling with mischief, a self-satisfied smirk on your gorgeous mouth as you begin to tug him in the direction of the stairs leading up to the second story. “C’mon,” you murmur, your eyes darting to the door to make sure no one’s there. “Before someone sees us.”

Steve’s fury abates at the eagerness in your sweet voice, and the lust in your pretty face. Words stick in his throat. He wants to talk about the jealousy that had driven him inside, but his cock is urging him to give in to you. The desire to claim you is too strong, so he follows you upstairs and into a bedroom at one end of the hall. 

It only takes a single glance for Steve to realize it’s your childhood bedroom, with evidence of your life scattered everywhere, a few stuffed animals mixed in with posters and memorabilia of the music and movies you’d loved as a teenager. It should make him feel shameful, like a dirty old man trespassing in your room, but you haven’t lived here in a long time, so he’s only exasperated as he turns back to you.

“What’re we doing, sweetheart—” Steve’s question is cut off as you launch yourself at him. He easily catches you, your mouths sliding messily against each other in a sloppy, greedy kiss. 

Tumbling you down onto the bed, Steve covers your smaller body with his broad form and kisses you hard, pouring out all the frustration he’s felt this afternoon into you. His lips and teeth and tongue are punishing, hungrily devouring you until you’re moaning wantonly against his mouth. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he growls, his hands roaming your body, pushing your bikini top aside and groping your tits roughly, your skin cold and damp from the pool. He can feel your nipples harden beneath his palms, your back arching to push your tits into his big hands, and that just brings back his fury. “Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Is this why you let that guy put his hands on you, to make me jealous and furious and fucking ravenous for you?”

You don’t even have the good grace to look repentant. A smirk curves your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth as you stare up at Steve. “Did it work?” you ask, raising a brow in challenge, reigniting the anger in Steve’s gut.

His only answer is a vicious growl, his hands yanking on the ties of your bikini bottoms until they come free. He tears the minuscule scrap of fabric away from your body like it’s offended him before doing the same with your top. 

Your hands are already fumbling with the front of his swim trunks, undoing the tie and shoving them down until his dick springs free. It slaps against your thigh softly, his precum leaking onto your skin, and Steve makes another possessive rumbling sound in his chest, liking the idea of marking you with his seed.

Steve makes quick work of yanking his shirt off, and then the two of you are naked. He suddenly remembers where you are, looking around at all the evidence of your early life, and he realizes again he should feel like a dirty old perv, but he can’t seem to bring himself to. 

Instead, he focuses back on you, fisting his cock and rubbing the tip up and down your dripping slit as a depraved grin spreads across his face. 

“Am I the first person to fuck you in your childhood bedroom, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice equal parts condescending and entreating. “Or were you sneaking boys up here when you were in high school, going all the way while your parents were just down the hall?”

You roll your eyes and make an impatient sound at the back of your throat, bucking your hips to try to take Steve’s cock inside your pussy, but he pulls it away. Using his grip on the base, he smacks the heavy head of his dick against your clit, making you twitch and moan beneath him. 

“Be honest,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, pushing the tip of his cock into your tight cunt before pulling back and leaving you empty. “Be honest with me, sweetheart.” 

“No,” you cry, your eyes blinking away tears of frustration to meet his gaze. You’re petulant and pouty, but finally answer his questions. “You’re the only one I’ve ever snuck up here, Steve.”

Steve stares at you for a moment, trying to discern if you’re telling him the truth or just trying to appease the jealous beast inside him so he’ll fuck you. When he decides you’re being honest, Steve lets loose his most charming grin, notching his cock at the entrance of your pussy and thrusting inside until he’s buried balls deep in the tight, perfect sheath of you cunt.

“DADDY!” you scream, so loud it nearly gives Steve a heart attack. 

He slaps a hand over your mouth, growling reproachfully in your ear, “Baby.” His breath is sawing in and out of him, and he’s barely keeping it together, because your wet, warm pussy is gripping his bare cock tight. All he wants to do is fuck you into next week, but he knows he has to be the responsible one. “Be careful,” he warns. “We can’t get caught.”

You’re nodding, fat tears spilling down your cheeks, and when he’s sure you won’t scream again, Steve relents and pulls his hand from your mouth. “I’m sorry, daddy,” you blubber, sounding truly repentant.

Steve sighs, gently kissing the tears from your cheeks. “I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs soothingly. “You just love my cock that much, don’t you?” His tone turns teasing and before he knows it you’re giggling and nodding, agreeing with him, a happy smile on your pretty face. “You can be quiet for daddy, can’t you?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Yes, daddy,” you chirp sweetly, and Steve has to wonder why you can’t be this agreeable all the time. It would make his life easier.

But, Steve realizes, then he might not love you as much. Because, to him, you’re perfect exactly the way you are. Overcome by emotion, Steve ducks his head and captures your mouth, pouring his feelings into the kiss as he begins to fuck you.

Steve knows the two of you have already been gone from the party for too long, and every stolen moment you both risk someone coming to look for you, so he doesn’t bother to take his time. He fucks you hard and fast, pounding into your cunt raw, and it’s the thought of having nothing between you that sends him careening quickly toward his release, words spilling unbidden from his lips.

“Gonna fill you up, baby—gonna pump you full of so much cum, you’re gonna be leaking daddy’s seed for the rest of the day,” he groans, loving the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so perfectly.

“Oh god, please, daddy,” you squeal, your voice thin as you try to stay quiet like Steve asked. “Fill me, claim me—I’m yours, daddy.”

“You are, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Steve asks, the question rhetorical. Then suddenly, a need strikes him and he can’t stop himself even if he’d wanted to try. “Mine to breed.”

A cry bursts from your lips, you pussy clenching hard around Steve’s cock, and he knows you like the sound of that just as much as he does. So he goes on, pure filth spilling from his lips and straight into your ears.

“Want daddy to put a baby in you, sweetheart?” Steve growls, his voice half mocking, half serious. “Want me to knock you up in your childhood bedroom? There’ll be no hiding that you belong to me anymore if I do—I’ll have to put a ring on your finger and tell everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, Steve, oh my god, yes,” you cry, your thighs clenching tight around his hips, your legs winding around his waist and holding him tight against your body, until he can only rut into you with short, deep strokes. “Knock me up, daddy. Wanna give you a baby—please, please, please, I want it.”

“Gonna give you a baby for my birthday,” Steve growls, his mind half gone from the sheer pleasure of your tight warm cunt gripping his bare cock. He fucks you harder, grinding deep between your thighs to rub against your clit. “Gonna make you all mine, baby—forever.”

Steve watches you unravel from his words and his cock, pleasure stealing the breath from your lungs so you can only let out a silent scream. You clench tight around his cock, and he’s lost. He cums deep in your cunt, spilling his seed right against your cervix while your pussy milks him dry, hoping like hell it’ll take root in your womb.

He’s barely caught his breath before you’re kissing him sweetly, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding him tight. His arms dig beneath your back, clutching you just as close. 

“Can we tell my parents about us now?” you ask, your voice deceptively innocent. 

Steve has to laugh, dropping his head to your shoulder as he chuckles against your skin, still damp and cool from your dip in the pool. He presses a kiss against your clavicle, making peace with the fact that he’s completely in love with a sweet, manipulative menace. Then he lifts his head and gives you a stern look.

“Did you do all of this to convince me it’s time we tell them about our relationship?” he asks, even though he already knows you did. It’s taking all his energy not to let loose the grin that’s tugging on his lips while you continue to play innocent.

You give him a too casual shrug and Steve has his answer before you even open you’re mouth. “Well, we should probably tell them before you knock me up,” you say, raising a brow in a sardonic expression. “I think it might make them way more mad if we don’t tell them until after you’ve gotten me pregnant.”

Steve knows you’re right, and he’ll admit that to you later, but for the moment he can only kiss you and be grateful you hadn’t given up on him for dragging his feet and keeping your relationship a secret for so long. 

He’ll give you what you want by telling your parents about the two of you, and then he’s going to knock you up and put a ring on your finger—maybe not in that order, although he’s not sure if he can help himself.

Still, in that moment, with his cock still buried deep in your body, his seed seeping out of your well-fucked cunt, he makes a vow to himself. Steve Rogers is determined to put a baby in you before his next birthday, and if that means telling your parents about your relationship as soon as possible, then so be it.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

So I imagine him in the morning laying out by the pool, drinking some fruity drink with a leopard print Speedo. He tends to enjoy the early morning more, because neither the heat nor the humidity have settled in yet.

Just as you’re about to call him in for a mid morning snack, he comes stomping into the kitchen, sweat dripping down his chest.

“Who ordered all this fucking heat?”

You’d simply shrug and offer him some lemonade, because he did the same thing every day. A small smile on your lips as you turned to the fridge and you mouthed his next words.

“I swear to God I’m getting a place in Siberia so we don’t have to deal with this shit anymore.”

When you turn around you’ll have already schooled your features and you’ll reply, just like you did the day before. “But I love seeing you in your bathing suit.” The extra little pout may be a bit much, but Lloyd loves it.

His chest will puff out, and he’ll shoot you a wink before going to pull you into his arms.

“Lloyd, no! You’re sweaty and gross, go take a shower!”

That’s when a spark lights up his eye, “I’ll give you the count of three Pumpkin, better hope I don’t catch you.”

You don’t even wait for him to start counting before you’re bounding away, you hear him yell “Three!” From the kitchen before you know he’s tracking you through the house.

You both know it won’t take him long to find you, but pretending was half the fun. In almost no time he has you cornered in the laundry room, a smirk pulling at his features.

“Well…I guess we’re both sweaty and gross now. Let’s go have a shower.”

With that he tosses you over his shoulder and carries you to the master bathroom a swat to your ass as you squeal with mirth.

***

Steve has to work hard to keep himself under control as you spread out a soft blanket on the roof, refusing to think about laying you down on it and having his way with you. What would a pretty young thing like you want with an old man like him? He’s got more gray hairs than the years of your life you’ve lived, so he’s determined to keep his hands to himself.

While you settle onto the blanket, Steve looks around the roof and wonders why no one else from the building is up there to watch the fireworks. He’s not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse to be all alone with you in the darkness of the July night, and as he sits down, he’s careful, making sure not to touch you, unsure if he’ll be able to stop himself if he starts.

But when the fireworks start, you scoot closer to Steve and lean against his side, and it feels all too natural to put his arm around your shoulders. It nearly does him in when you look up at him and smile, like nothing in the world would ever make you feel safer than being with him. He tries to remind himself why he needs to stay away from you, but his resolve is crumbling as he stares down at you.

It’s your eyes, bright and sparkling as you look at him, and your mouth—so pretty and enticing, especially when it’s curved into a smile that’s just for him—that make Steve forget all the reasons he shouldn’t want you. He does want you, and he’s tired of running from it. He’s spent too many years trapped, and now that he’s free, he’s not going to take his second chance at life for granted.

So Steve kisses you. Soft at first, giving you a chance to pull away, slap him, run from him the way he expects you to. But you don’t. Instead, you lean into him, one of your hands pressing gently against his chest, right over the place where his heart is thumping against his ribs like it’s trying to escape. 

Steve knows, somewhere deep in his bones, that if he were to put his heart in your hands, you’d be gentle with it. You’d take care of it—you’d take care of him the same way he wants to take care of you. Wholly, unreservedly, for the rest of your lives.

You’re the one to deepen the kiss, dragging Steve back from his overly romantic thoughts and into the moment. The fireworks are still going off in the sky above the Brooklyn apartment building where the two of you live, but Steve only cares about you—and kissing you. 

Steve kisses you slowly, methodically, learning every dip and curve of your lips before he ventures into your mouth, exploring the wet heat and discovering the teasing menace that is your tongue. You kiss him hungrily, so voracious that Steve can practically feel your desire thrumming beneath your skin as he skims his hands up your arms and down your sides.

It takes all of Steve’s hard-won control not to give in to the lust churning in his gut, making his cock strain almost painfully against the fly of his jeans. He’s determined to take things as slow as you’ll let him, but then you’re laying back on the blanket and pulling him down on top of you, spreading your soft thighs to give him somewhere perfect to land.

He can feel the sinful heat of your cunt through his jeans and your thin dress, and when his hips roll, pressing the bulge of his cock into your soft center, you let out a throaty moan that has him leaking in his pants. Steve’s mouth, which had been busy licking and sucking down the line of your neck, returns to your mouth, swallowing your sounds of pleasure while his hips rock between your thighs.

Your breathy whimpers and thready moans are the most beautiful music to Steve’s ears, and he has the errant thought that if only he could hear you make those sounds every day for the rest of his life, every shitty day that had come before would have been worth it. A shiver races down his spine at the thought, not yet daring to hope you’ll want him for more than the night, and he kisses you harder, wanting to taste your pleasure straight from your lips.

All too soon, Steve realizes he’s at the brink of his release, his cock throbbing in his jeans, his balls drawing up against his body, ready to spill. He refuses to cum before you do, though, so he wraps one of his big hands around your soft thigh, spreading you open even wider so he can grind deeper into your clothed cunt.

Your moans turn into high-pitched, keening whines, breathless pleas for more falling unbidden from your kiss-bitten lips. You’re so fucking pretty, Steve thinks to himself, the glimmer of fireworks lighting your skin in shades of pink, blue and white. His heart beats heavy in his chest and he knows he’s done for—in more ways than one.

Steve’s hips jerk, thrusting against your heated pussy harder than before, and he watches you come apart for him, your face twisting up in pleasure before you let out a low moan of his name. And it’s that, the sweet way you say his name in your pleasure-drunk voice, that sends him over the edge.

A low, feral growl tears from Steve’s lips, and his hips hump erratically against your pussy while his cock erupts in his jeans. He’s sure to stain the denim with his hot seed, but he doesn’t care because you’re pulling him closer and burying your face in his beard, little sounds of pleasure muffled against his throat. 

When he’s spent, Steve wraps his arms around your body and rolls onto his side, tucking you into his chest, marveling at the way you fit perfectly against him. You murmur a sleepy apology about making him cum in his pants and Steve can only chuckle and tell you the honest truth, that it was the hardest he’s ever cum in his life, and he’s just glad he could get you off before he made a fool of himself.

You giggle softly, snuggling deeper into his chest and promising to make it up to him. Steve shushes you gently and presses a kiss to your head, watching the finale of the fireworks while thanking the universe for giving him the best birthday present an ex-con like him could’ve asked for—you.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡