♡♡♡

You take a quick peek up, and are met with his beautiful blue eyes. Close enough to see the speckling of different hues of blue. His mouth turns up into a smile, and you quickly look back down at his hands. Pushing forward, and pulling back. His veins pop up on his arms and hands with the motion. Cords of his muscles ripple on his forearms. The man did more than bake pastries. He had to have a clear an amazing workout routine that you would love to sit and watch.

Since Andy had opened Butter & Buns you found every excuse to come here on a regular basis. It had nothing to do with Andy, but his goods, at least that’s what you told yourself. He honestly does make the most spectacular delicacies. And the way he runs his patisserie is so inviting. He had demos where he made the fresh breads right in front of you.

And he is even going to be starting classes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about how he would teach. Would he be the type of man that stands behind you, hands on yours as he shows you how to properly make bread? Or would he be the teacher that stands in front of you while his eyes pay more attention to the curves of your body instead, and you learn nothing at all?

He told you about the classes first of course, letting you know you are his favorite customer. You gaze over his arms again as he pushes and pulls the dough. Developing the glutens, and mixing in the butter. It is heavenly to watch. A bit distracting, but only due to how effortlessly he did that. Like a skilled ballerina up on stage. It flows and has an odd beauty to it.

“Are you getting your usual, Sweet Buns?” a girlish giggle brushes past your lips, and the quick glance up at him sends heat to your cheeks. Andy has this way of making you feel like a schoolgirl. Even your hands are clammy, and your throat dries up. “Or can I suggest something different that I know you’re going to love?” You have to look at him, but this time he catches your eyes, and you linger the hold. You couldn’t look away.

“Yeah, of course,” your voice is a whisper as you nod your head, and switch the weight on your feet.

“Oh, give me a break,” Ransom rolls his eyes beside you, and you give him a little nudge with your shoulder. He is ruining this for you.

“Why don’t you grab our coffees, and I’ll get the treats?” He smirks, rolling his eyes again. It’s one of his favorite things to do, but he does walk away to go to the front of the counter, leaving you and Andy alone. “I’m sorry about him.”

“You’d think your husband wouldn’t come in with you if he’s so easily annoyed,” there’s a slight twinkle in Andy’s eye, but you can’t quite figure it out.

“We’re not married,” you answer quickly, showing him your bare finger. “Not even engaged. He’s…” Ransom peeks over towards you, pursing his lips, and narrowing his eyes before ordering the coffee. “What are you wanting to suggest to me?” Changing the subject off your relationship is the best course of action.

“I was playing around with croissant ideas. It’s not traditional, but it’s lemon meringue.”

“It sounds perfect,” almost as perfect as his ass walking to the sink to wash his hands. He meets you down at the register, handing over Ransom’s usual mini scones before giving you his newest creation. It looks amazing, and perfect. Just like him.

“I made this specifically with you in mind, Sweet Buns,” another giggle. You love that he remembers your first encounter with him, and it has since become your nickname. Your hand brushes against his as he hands you the receipt, and his eyes linger on you as you make way to Ransom.

“I made this specifically with you in mind, Sweet Buns,” he mocks what Andy says as you sit down across from him. “Why don’t you admit you got a crush on the baker.”

“I don’t, and he’s a pastry chef,” Ransom blinks at you a few times before taking a bite of your croissant. He doesn’t want to react, but he does. A soft little moan travels up his throat, and you shimmy your shoulders. “See.”

“You completely ignored what I just said,” of course you did. It’s a silly conversation that wasn’t going to get either of you anywhere.

“I ignored you because I don’t have a crush on Andy.”

“Ahh, you just want him to fuck your sweet buns, huh?” You give him a little kick under the table, smiling at him. It is fascinating to see him get a bit jealous. He knows who you go home to, and who you want to spend the rest of your life with. “If he gets your sweet buns, what do I get?”

“You can have the warm muffin.”

“I love it when you talk dirty. So I can have the warm muffin, he gets the sweet buns, what are we going to do with your mouth?” He raises his eyebrows in a suggestive way, and now it’s you that’s rolling your eyes.

“Shut up!” You playfully say, nudging your foot at him. “You know I love you, right?” Smiling, he nods his head, taking another bite of your pastry. Rude. “But I do quite enjoy your wheels turning. Are you seriously dreaming about him with us?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Stop eating my food. That was made just for me.”

“Unless he’s got another sweet buns that he’s not telling you about,” you are his only Sweet Buns. Andy didn’t have others that he is like this with. You’ve watched him. “If we do this can I frost your muffin and turn it into a cupcake?” You burst out laughing, throwing your head back dramatically. He is silly, even if you love his play on words.

“What is wrong with you?” Or better yet, why did he have to wait to frost your cupcake?

“Or I can always call it a pie shell. Won’t you let me make a cream pie,” he’s saying words, and you’re not sure how serious he is. You’d let him if he’d ask.

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s go home.”

“Maybe he can butter your buns,” he’s so obnoxious sometimes. “Knead your dough. Oh oh! Maybe frost your cake,” you give a quick little wave to Andy, trying to shoo Ransom out of the shop before Andy hears what he is saying. How embarrassing. Or maybe not.

——

“Ransom! Baby, I’m home,” throwing your keys into the bowl, you remove your shoes. Slowly undressing now because it is Friday, and you are tired of this bra. “Ransom?” You couldn’t smell any cooking, so you figured he must want to go out tonight, you’ll have to persuade him to order in. You just want him, the couch, and reruns.

“Ransom?” You say his name one more time as you pull your shirt over your head, and take off your bra. He’ll be happy to see your titties free. That’s how you make sure he just orders in, and you can stay with and watch television.

“Ransom? Oh my god!” Your arms fly over your chest as Andy smiles at you devilishly. “Why are you in my house, and in my fucking room?”

“It does look like a nice fucking…room,” creep. He was attractive in his place. Being alone in your house with you. And… “Ransom, she did make a great entrance,” your boyfriend steps out of the en-suite, and you look between the two of them. The little slut!

They are up to something, and you just want to rest. In between them. “What is this?”

“Angel,” uh uh. Anytime Ransom starts a sentence with that, he’s up to something. Needing you to forgive him immediately. And of course that makes sense since Andy Barber is in your bedroom with you and your boyfriend all while your arms are over your chest, covering yourself.

Rolling your eyes, you happen to catch a peek, and Andy is a full mast. Pants are completely tented, and you feel a rush of heat pool at your core. He’s as big as you imagined, bigger even. This is about that conversation you had Butter & Buns! Ransom brought this man here for a threesome, and both men are ready to go.

“I had some thoughts about our conversation the other day…”

“And I overheard everything,” oh my god! Andy overheard every stupid joking detail. This is too much. “And I approached Ransom.”

“No, you didn’t. I went back to the buttery buns, and approached you.”

“You stuttered, and couldn’t get the question out, so I proposed a deal. I get your ass, if you agree.”

“But I’m in control,” it is like watching a ping pong match as the two of them go back and forth. Each making sure you know that they’re more manly than the other with no regard of what you want. You didn’t ask for this. Ransom and Andy just assumed. They didn’t exactly assume wrong.

You have dreamed of this very moment. You didn’t want Andy in your life, you just wanted him in your body. Have a little fun with your boyfriend. He did say his fantasy was to watch you be destroyed before he joins in. Watch as your cunt is being refused stimulation, and he waits for you to beg before joining in. You just don’t beg. You never beg.

Okay, maybe you have dreamed about the man destroying you being Andy once or twice. But the principle of the matter is they didn’t ask. “Angel, if you didn’t want me to know that you have fantasized about this, maybe you shouldn’t leave your fucking journal open on the bed. With a very detailed explanation of what you want Mr. Butters and me to do to you.”

“You caught that, huh?” Ransom is far from being dumb, but sometimes he just needs a little nudging, especially since you found out that he wanted Andy to be the man that joined you. You gave him a little hint by leaving your journal on his side of the bed.

“You made it obvious. So quit playing coy. On your knees. I can literally smell your arousal. You know I know your cunt better than you do. On your knees, and let Andy fuck your ass. I won’t ask again. And be a good girl, and drop your arms. Go on. Let me see.”

He’s such an ass when he’s right. You let your arms fall, and you glance towards Andy. His eyes coast down your body as you start to pull your pants down. Andy licks his lips as he stares at your pebbled peaks. He’s ready to devour you. Ready to turn you into the mush, and become completely pliable like his doughs.

You came home tired, but a new sense of invigoration courses through your body as the bed dips down with your weight. Leaning forward you let your head rest completely on the mattress, and your ass full on in the air. Both men walk behind you, their eyes taking in your sex before Ransom’s lithe fingers move through your folds.

“She’s soaked,” he moans before slapping at Andy’s hand. “Nope, you can’t touch her until I say so. You must inspect the goods. She expects this from me. See,” he pulls you apart at the seam. Spreading you out fully for Andy’s hungry eyes. “The tightest pussy I’ve ever felt. But this…this pretty little hole,” Ransom spits down at your puckered entrance before rubbing it around your muscle.

“This is going to be all yours. You can’t have her needy little cunt. But her ass is just as greedy, watch,” you whimper as he presses a finger past the tight rim. Pushing yourself back into him. “Go on, I’ll warm her up, but you get nice and lubed. She has a bit of an attitude problem, but you fill her up, and she’s the most obedient little sex doll, aren’t ya? Such a little slut drunk on cock.”

Your brain goes fuzzy as you anticipate two cocks at once. Overwhelmed is a perfect word for it. Feeling all the feels, while Ransom pumps his finger in and out of you, and his sinful mouth never shuts up. “You can come in her or on her, but you can’t have that tight little pussy, okay?” Andy groans, coating his cock in lube.

He fists his thick veiny member a few times, starting to move closer. Ransom’s need for mirrors in the bedroom is paying off. You’re able to see Andy’s wide body and thick hands take in your holes. He looks massive behind you. “She’s so pretty when she gets stuffed, too. Look at her, ass in the air, and ready to be fucked so hard. In and out. Filled fully. Every little hole.”

Andy clears his throat, and Ransom reluctantly pulls his finger out of your ass. Smiling when you whine at the loss of him. Starting to rock on your knees because you need a replacement. “Easy, Sweet Buns,” his thick hands grab tight to your hips, digging into your skin with so much force you hope it bruises. Andy teases your tight hole with his cock. “You going to be a cockslut for us?”

“Mhmm,” mewling as his blunt mushroom tip breaches your entrance. Your fingers grip tight to the bed, and your eyes shoot open, trying to find your boyfriend’s handsome face. Staring at him with so much need as Andy slowly sinks into you. Doesn’t stop until he’s balls deep in your ass, and you're ready for Ransom to fill you up, too. You need him. It isn’t fair you can’t have him, too.

“Shh,” he sighs, petting your face. “Let big daddy Andy have some fun, okay?” You nod your head, but reach towards Ransom. Holding onto his hand as Andy slowly pulls out of you, and crashes back into your warmth. Yipping when he does it again quickly.

You never look anywhere, but Ransom’s handsome face. The way he’s adoring you even more for allowing your crush to own your ass. Rutting into you at such a steady pace, and yet you still feel empty. Ransom belongs in you as well. “You’re doing such a good job.”

“Sweet buns, you should really get on top of me. Let your boyfriend watch that neglected cunt as I fill every inch of your ass. He can see that pretty pussy weeping with need for him. Crying out for him because you need him so much. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Yes! Yes!” Shouting because you need Ransom to see how empty you are without him. How much you need him inside of you more than some fantasy. “Please!” He nods his head, and Andy pulls out of you, and crawls on the bed. Letting you turn your back to him as you settle over top.

Able to watch every part of Ransom as you slowly sink over him. Moaning as your body swallows him whole, and Ransom’s eyes go to your core. Staring so hard at where he is supposed to be. You’ve already told him too many times that your body was made for him. “Do you like it, Ran?”

“Yes, very much so, kitty cat,” placing your hands behind you, and on either side of Andy, you start bouncing over top of him. Letting Ransom see a part of you not filled with him letting her beg him, because you won’t with words. Your body cries for him to enter you as your arousal leaks onto Andy. “You’re so perfect,” he moans, and you go harder.

Bucking on top of Andy, and ready to whine out Ransom’s name. “Make yourself come first. You needy little brat. If you want two cocks, come. Go on. You can do it,” you slam yourself over him harder. Enjoying the view even if it's torturous. “You’re almost there. You’ve got this. Keep going. Don’t stop. That pretty pussy needs my pretty cock inside of her, huh?”

“Yeah. Please. Ransom, I’m…” heat and pleasure rush to your core. It’s almost cruel to come like this. A big part of you is being ignored, and no matter what you do, Ransom isn’t budging. “Ransom, I’m…”

“Then do it, you filthy little slut,” that does it. Pleasure shoots into every part of your limbs as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Slowing down your movements, but Andy picks up where you leave off. “Clenching around nothing, and I got the front row seat to heaven,” his voice is so deep as he stares at your empty cunt.

Getting onto the bed before his lips meet yours. He tastes like sin and dessert as he swallows your moans, “You needed this,” he says before crashing into you. Both men pause as sounds you’ve never made before scream out of your lungs.

Giving you a grace period for you to adjust to just how incredibly full you feel. Stretched out in the most perfect way, and getting to have and feel Ransom finally. He fits so perfectly inside you. You’ve never doubted how he is made for you. He even feels just as much pleasure as you, just feeling how different this is. It’s overwhelming. Blinding. Makes you feel as if you’ve ascended to heaven.

Everything in your body ceases to stop functioning. You’re just there. Existing for nothing but pleasure. Obviously for them, but what you feel is like a religious experience. Floating in the air with the most beautiful high encasing your body.

“There she is,” Ransom coos down to you. “I thought I’d lost you to the pleasure,” what is he talking about? You’re just feeling. “I think you blacked out for a minute. Just kept saying my name, but barely.”

“Mmm.”

“Cockdrunk,” Andy is just a vessel. A tool to add to the fun. If it wasn’t for the severe amount of fullness you feel, you wouldn't know he is even there. All you care about is Ransom. Head rolling around on your shoulders. “Alright, let’s flip. You just lay there, and take care of your girl, while I fuck her.”

“You want that, baby? You want Andy to fuck you.”

“You.”

“You’re too far gone, baby. Yeah, we’ll switch,” you want to cry as Ransom pulls out of you. Already reaching out to him as he lays down on the bed. “Come on. C’mere,” it’s Andy that helps you move over to him. Guiding you to sink over Ransom, and you start kissing on his beautiful face. “I know. I know.”

The last words you remember as Andy slams into you, and you scream. Fuck it feels so good. So full. So very full. If you could float out of your body, and watch this experience you would. The world doesn’t exist. It’s just nirvana. You try and ground yourself with the touch of Ransom, because he is perfect. Rubbing over your face. Whispering your name because you forgot.

Andy’s movements are harsh and about him getting off; Ransom is about you and him. So sweet. So perfect. So in love with him. You didn’t think you could love him more, but a man willing to have another man in your bed because you’ve fantasized about it is the perfect man. “Ransom!”

“I know, just let go. Come on two cocks,” his hips drive up into you, and you collapse on his chest. Incoherently saying his name. “Come,” he whispers into your ears, and rockets go off in your body. Shooting endorphins and pleasure to every nerve ending as your body seizes up. This is it, the true escape of the world, and absolute bliss.

“She’s. So. Fucking. Tight,” Andy grunts, thrusting into you so hard your body lurches forward. “So. Fucking. Good. Ugh!” Growling behind you as his movements become irregular. “Right. There!” It’s like everybody’s body is synchronized. Your walls flutter around their cocks, and they each shoot warm ropes of thick cum into your body, and you’re buzzing. A high like no other.

Long weeks are meant for going dumb, and what better way to escape than this. Andy pants behind you, while Ransom’s fingers softly caress your body. His lips ghost over your skin, and you feel yourself start to drift. Feeling so comfortable and exhausted from the week.

“I thought I was supposed to come in,” you relax on top of Ransom’s body, soaking up the afterglow of his release. He feels so warm inside of you. His cum right where it belongs. He wasn’t ever going to waste a drop again.

“Shh,” Ransom says softly as Andy pulls out of your body.

“No, you said if I set up the cameras, that I could fuck her mouth,” Andy rolls his eyes, grabbing a camera off the tripod and points it at your used holes. “Oh, yeah, don’t forget the money shot. But you wanted all her holes to be dripping in cum. It was a gift before you propos…”

“Jake! Shut up!” Jake Jensen mumbles something under his breath. You nuzzle into Ransom more before you drift off to sleep. You’ve never felt more satisfied. “Yes, next time I’ll make sure she’s airtight, but we got to ease her into it. And besides…”

“We know, Drysdale,” Andy hands Jake the camera before going to his clothes, “You’re marrying the girl, but she is okay with being used from time to time. Did you even know she was interested in Jake before her journal?”

“Nope. Why would she be into him?”

“I’m right here, and I am lovable!”

“Alright, go on. Next time I’ll| make her watch herself being used first. Maybe over some sweet buns,” Ransom gives a little chuckle to Andy. “There there, sweetheart, these men are going to leave, and I’m going to give us a bath. The rest of the weekend is about you. You’ve had such a hard night.”

No. It was almost perfect. Almost.

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @rogersbarber 

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you argue, “I put in the order weeks ago. A red bow. I have the receipt– I mean sure, pink or red doesn’t matter to me but it’s not my birthday.” 

“We’ll see what we can do,” the woman relents. It’s not exactly a triumph but as close to as you can hope. If it’s pink, you’ll just have to take the fall. The damn fondant will be devoured by the night’s end anyhow. 

You hang up with a double tap on the ear pod and your playlist resumes. You go back to trying to uncover the shape caked in layers of muck, turning the brush to chip away the rougher bits with the pointed tip. The work is tedious but it has to be. You can’t risk damaging the relic nestled inside. 

The abrupt chiming of your ringtone once more sounds through the bluetooth earpiece. You huff and hit the pod with the heel of your hand. You greet the call with only your name. 

“Are you still on site?” Your boss, Arturo asks. 

“Yep, still here,” you still your hand and twist your arm, pulling back the end of your glove to see your watch, “just a bit longer. You know I have that thing tonight.” 

“Uh, yes, I recall,” he says dully as you hear paper shuffling, “you got time to chat?” 

“Sure,” you keep the cluster of dirt and the brush in one hand and use your other to push yourself to your feet, “I just gotta catalogue this before I finish the day.” 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” he begins as you carefully walk between the cordoned off patches. The whole place is a maze of where and where not to step. You go into the tent and put down the half uncovered idol. It’s brittle, made of hide and yew, with a bit of bone. “Lucia is pregnant.” 

“Oh? That’s great,” you furrow your brow, wondering what that has to do with you. 

“Means she can’t travel for a while. She’s adverse to long term commitments at the moment so…” 

“So…” you trail off as you label the mound of dirt and make notes for the next day. 

“So, you want her assignment?” 

“Which one?” You peel off your gloves and shake off the excess filth. 

“Norway. It can be a bit dingy but the landscape is nice.” 

“Norway? For how long?” You close up the ledger and tuck it away on the shelf. You pass between the tables of artifacts as you pull out your phone. 

“Could be a while but I figured you never get to go very far. You’ve been pent up in-state for so long, you could use the vacation.” 

“Oh? Well, I…” you scroll through your phone and see the notifications. Emails confirming delivery, messages asking if everything is sorted. “I’d have to think about it…” 

It’s evasion more than indecision. You know you don’t want to go. You can’t go. Your whole life is here. You have an apartment and friends and… Steve. Your best friend.  

“Make sure you do think about it. It’s a great opportunity. Especially for a junior anthropologist. Lucia won’t be on leave forever.” 

“I know. I’ll think about it.” 

You hang up and pluck the earbud out. Ugh, you’re covered in dirt and dust. You don’t have time to go home and shower. You knew you wouldn’t. You have to be at the venue before everyone else. You can change there and try to wash up in the sink. Whatever, no one’s going to be looking at you anyway. It’s Peggy’s night. Yay. 

You lock the fence and tug one last time to make sure it’s secure. You drag your boots across the thinning grass to your car parked on a stretch of gravel. You drop inside and hit start. You connect to the bluetooth and get some tunes going. You buckle your seat belt as you check the mirrors. You’re probably going to have to speed there. 

You back out as the music blares from the speakers. It’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Why did you agree to this? Peggy doesn’t even like you. Oh, but she likes Steve. She is his girlfriend and you are only his best friend. You’re supportive. You keep your mouth shut and smile. 

Ugh. You squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. You know why you offered to help plan the surprise. You’re pathetic but you’re not delusional. It meant you got more time with him. There hasn’t been much of that since Peggy came along, not just the two of you. 

Classic, isn’t it? In love with your best friend. Friends since college. Friends forever, you vowed naively, thinking that forever would never come. Nothing lasts that long, you can only hope to outlast Peggy. 

And if you don’t, maybe this crush will finally run its course. 

💟

Red and white streamers decorate a long table set with trays. There’s a banner over it that reads ‘Happy Birthday, Peggy’, and a stack of gifts already forming in the corner. Guests drift in with anticipation as you hurry around to check off all the items on your list. 

You fix a small vase of flowers, trying to hide the droopy one in the back, and tug a wrinkle out of a tablecloth. You smile and wave at those who are early as you weave between them. You pull out your phone and lean it on the clipboard angle in the crook of your elbow. They’re on their way, okay. Keep it cool. 

As you come to the kitchen door, you nearly collide with someone else. Sam touches your arm gently as he keeps you from tripping backward. You gasp and hug the clipboard with a wobbly grin. 

“Hey,” you greet breathily, “you’re here.” 

You look down at the guest list and check him off. 

“Ah, figured I’d make an appearance,” he kids, “Rogers would take it pretty rough if his best pal wasn’t here.” 

“Please, don’t start that with Bucky again,” you warn as you point the pen in his direction, “the two of you, in fact, are seated separately.” 

“No fun!” He whines dramatically. 

You scrunch your lips at him and peer around. Yes, none of this has been fun. Caterers, servers, tables, space, food! Yes, you were going to check on the cake. Your sole squeaks as you twist sharply and go to slam your hand into the door. 

“Hey,” Sam blocks your way with his arm, “before you disappear, you’re still wearing your boots.” He points to your feet, “in case you’re wondering about the snail trail.” 

He sweeps his finger up in a gesture alluding to your previous path. You glance over at the dirt littered in your stead then down at your dusty boots. You sigh and hang your head back. 

“Fuck!” You snarl. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a broom,” he assures you, “while you take a breath. You need it.” 

“I can’t, Sam, they’re already on their way. I still have to get everyone in their place and… quiet,” you scowl, “ugh, this is gonna be so bad. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“So… why’d you do it?” He asks as he drags his hand away from the doorframe. You look at him and blink slowly. You shrug. 

“I’m a good friend,” you insist. 

He gives a skeptical hum and nods, “sure are,” he grumbles, “too good, if you ask me.” 

You throw up your hand before turning into the kitchen. You don’t have time to worry about him. Is he jealous that you’re helping Steve so much? Or does he know something else? You don’t let the seed sprout as you nearly cry out at the sight of the cake. 

A pink bow. Jeez. Of course. You check the cake off your list, nearly tearing through the paper. It’s better than nothing, even if Peggy never settles for less than the best. 

There’s no time to complain or send it back. Your phone vibrates again. Five minutes. Your heart is racing. Why? This isn’t even your party. You just want it to be perfect for Steve. You hate to disappoint him. Ever. 

You really shouldn’t care that much but you do. Like so many other things in your life. 

💟

The crowd can't keep quiet. There's a low buzz that ripples through the guests. A wave of anticipation that's spread like a deadly virus. 

You feel a nudge in your side and peek over as Bucky sends Sam a sneer and wriggles in place. Those two never let up. You hiss at them to quit and they look as guilty as a pair of unruly children. 

"He keeps tickling me," Bucky whispers. 

"No, I'm tryna fix his hair, look at this mess," Sam flicks a strand away from Bucky's cheek, "this is a nice event, Buck, not your living room." 

"Both of you," you warn.  

"You're bitching at me when Indiana Jones here brought the dig with her," Bucky mutters. 

You look down. Dammit. You still didn't change out of your boots. You roll your eyes. It's not about you. It's Steve's night. Er, Peggy's.  

You shake out your nerves and shake your head, "you two," you step behind Bucky and insert yourself between the men, "behave." 

"Yes, mom," Sam snickers as Bucky groans and tries to smooth the few shanks that have slipped free of his low ponytail. 

You exhale and give an exasperated look to the door. You really can't handle them on top of everything else. You just want this night to end already. All your hard work and you won't even get to enjoy any of it. 

"Everybody," Natasha hisses as she runs away from the doorway, "they're coming." 

The group quiets, as much as they can, a collective bated breath as you wait and listen. The lull is unbearable as the heat of the bodies around you pricks sweat down your neck and across your scalp. The door begins to open, almost as if in slow motion, and as the guest of honour is revealed, you cry out. 

"SURPRISE!" The eruption of the chorus has your head spinning as Peggy gives a melodramatic swoon, grabbing at Steve's arm as she leans on him heavily. 

She parts only to fan her eyes and squeal. "Oh my god, you guys!"  

She teeters on her heels as people holler happy birthday and her group of girlfriends flutter over to wrap her up in a cacophony of giggles and preening. You smile, a bittersweet twitch in your cheek as you watch her spin back to Steve and pull him into a kiss.  

You're happy for them really, proud to see all your effort come to fruition, but you just feel so hollow. For an instant, you think it should be you right there, gushing in glee over the celebration of another year, with Steve beside you.  

You gulp down the jealousy and wiggle your nose to ward away the tears. That's a stupid thought. If it hasn't happened in more than a decade, it's not going to happen now. 

💟

As the guests disperse into their own conversations, you finally manage to wade through to the happy couple. You approach with a small wave at Steve. He doesn't see you, he's watching Peggy as she chats with Natasha. 

"Hi," you call above the din, "so, you like it?" 

Steve turns to you, confusion stitching his forehead before he registers your questions. He nods and gives a smile, "it's amazing, you did so good!" 

The sparkle in his eyes, the perfect line of his jaw, the way he's looking at you, it makes your heart rend. You tilt your head and dig your toe into the floor bashfully, "thanks. I'm so happy to see it come together." 

"Um, the cake," he brings his index finger up, "I was hoping to bring it out soon." 

"Er, yeah, it's back in the kitchen. About that–" 

"Great," he claps your shoulder and brushes by you, "just gonna put the finishing touches on it." 

"Hm, what do you–" 

He's gone before you can finish your question. You deflate just a little, setting your feet flat as you sway aimlessly. The motion hooks Peggy's attention. You give a sheepish smile as you wring your hands. 

"Oh, uh, just came over to wish you a happy birthday," you chirp, "are you enjoying it?" 

"Ah, I didn't see you here, I thought maybe you were busy…" she gives a pointed look to your boots, "working." 

"Um, yeah, no," you fidget, "always happy to come support you two." 

"Where is Steve?" She gazes past you, shouldering by dismissively, "he was just…." 

Right. You nod and flit away in embarrassment. You can't say you ever got along with Peggy. Where you're accommodating, she's a bit too demanding. Different people, but you don't dislike her. You just don't mesh. Or perhaps it's just that you don't get what Steve sees in her. Especially when you're right there. 

Enough. This isn't about you or your stupid dumb heart. Just smile and go with it. 

The kitchen door swings open, a noise barely discernible above the hue, and the rattling wheels of a cart underline the steady drone. A lull washes over the crowd as they part. You move with the tide and face the sudden divide. 

A hush falls over the room as Steve pushes the cake across the floor. He stops before Peggy as she faces him, another feigned pout of surprise. He grins proudly at her as you stare curiously at the top of the cake. 

"Oh, pink?" She comments on the fondant bow as her eyes flick over to you. She quickly corrects herself an admires the double tiered dessert, "Steve, it's so pretty." 

You know she hates the colour. You recall the one time you wore a pink bow in your hair and she made a similar comment. Cute, she remarked in her roundabout way in her oh so sophisticated accent. 

You manufacture a smile and step closer as Steve beckons to the guest. Tension stills the air, almost paralyzing the crowd. You squint at the heart shaped box perched atop the bow. 

"Is this for me?" Peggy asks if it's not obvious. 

Steve nods, his cheeks tinting pink, as you notice how he wipes his palms on his pants. Peggy delicately takes the box from the pedestal of fondant and your ribs ache from the pounding of your heart. You curl your fingers until your nails dig into your skin as you watch him kneel beside her. 

She doesn't notice as she opens the box on its hinges. Her lips part and she stares at the contents. She looks over at Steve to find him on his knee and she claps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes gleam as she whimpers his name through her fingers. 

The scene hazes behind your tears as you stare wide eyed. Your ears ring as Steve's voice is dulled by your shock. 

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," Steve's timbre warble just a bit, "will you make me the happiest man on earth?" 

You don't wait for her answer. You already know it. It's the very same you give in every outlandish dream you've ever had of your happy ending. You spin and storm through the crowd, blind with horror and self-pity. 

It takes a few deep breaths before you can get yourself to dial his number.

On his end, he sees his phone light up and he knows the drill since you're only voice calling and not video calling like you usually prefer with him. 

“Hi, honey,” he answers carefully, bracing himself. 

“Hi,” you answer back, ready to lose it again from just hearing his voice. 

He can hear the frown on your face. 

“What's wrong?” 

“I got the wrong donut,” you sniffle. 

That's a new one, he thinks to himself. “What?” 

“I went to get my coffee and donut, but I had to go during lunch because I was running late this morning,” you recount. Tears fill your eyes again. “But because it was later in the day and they were busy, they didn't have the donut I wanted. I had to get a different one. And it's just not... right.”

He tries his best not to laugh, he really does. 

“I'm sorry that happened.” You can hear the tinge of amusement in his voice, but he's also being genuine. “It’s just a donut though, baby…” 

“I know,” you sob – Loud enough for him to hold his phone away from his ear for a second. “I think that's why I'm crying. I know it's stupid.” 

He can't help but laugh now. “It's not stupid,” he assures. “You’re just emotional.” 

He just listens to the residual crying on your end until it sounds like you're ready to talk again. 

“Where are you, by the way?” 

“Hiding in the bathroom.” 

He smiles hearing you laugh a little. 

“Did you eat?” He asks. Stupid question. He bites his lip. “I know it wasn't the you-know-what that you wanted, but you have to eat.” 

You roll your eyes at the way he censors the word. 

“Not yet…” You sigh, fixing your smudged makeup while you finish talking to him. Or maybe not. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Distract me while I do?”

He can't say no to you. “Of course.” 

∘◦❀◦∘

When you get home from work a couple hours later, you’ve forgotten all about your mid-day crisis. It was just like all of the other minute things that have made you cry over the past couple weeks. 

You don’t question that you got home before Andy. Every evening is a little different depending on how busy each of you are. Besides, you probably did hold him up by crying to him during your lunch break anyway. So you just go ahead and get everything out that you need for dinner while you wait for him.

Hearing the door open, you call out to let him know you’re in the kitchen. 

“Hi,” you beam at him. 

He’s relieved to see you smiling as he crosses the room to give you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Hey, sweetie.”

Your eyes become focused on a paper bag in his hand though, giving him a look when he sets it on the counter in front of you. 

“What’s that?” 

“For you,” he winks. 

You’re skeptical, grabbing the bag and opening it slowly. You let out a short laugh catching sight of the donut that you wanted so badly earlier. 

“My donut?” You pout, looking back at him. “You found one?”

“Oh God, don’t cry,” he chuckles seeing the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms. “That was supposed to do the opposite.”

“I can’t help it,” you sniffle, closing your eyes and pressing your face into his neck to keep yourself from crying. “Thanks.”

“It was a fresh batch. I'll go back and buy them all for you...”

He says it like he's joking, but you don't think he is. That's exactly something he would do for you.

“No, it's okay,” you laugh, holding your arms around him tighter as if to keep him from doing so. “Don't want anyone else going through what I did.”

∘◦❀◦∘

He’s your boss. You work directly under him.

He isn’t bossy. Really, it’s an issue. Every time he gives you a task, he says ‘sorry’ first and finishes the order with another apology. You tell him he doesn’t have to apologize, but you’ve got the same problem as well. It’s always atonement for something you haven’t even done. You wouldn’t hurt a fly unless it hurt him.

Mr. Rogers is very nice. He has a secret office that he lets you stay in whenever you want. There’s a couch from one country and a desk from another. Each item is foreign in this room.

You’re always so tired, but he tells you to avoid caffeine. He gives you a blanket and tells you to lie down. You listen at first but can never relax. Not when you know he’ll be alone.

The honesty was a mistake at first. Mr. Rogers is so sensitive that he feels what you feel. He knows you so well that if something’s wrong, he’ll bother you until confession. You tell him almost anything, biting your tongue when you know you get too close to baring your entire soul.

The male friend of yours who keeps asking you out. The exams you study for to no avail. Your parents’ absence. Mr. Rogers—Steve, he insists—is a good listener and very wise. It makes sense. He’s much older than you and was on his own adventures when you were born.

The adventures are where he met his wife. Her name is Margaret, and she’s everything you aren’t. She’s headstrong and beautiful beyond words. She’s good with numbers and brilliant. She knows what she wants and will stop at nothing to get them.

Peggy is a real keeper. The wedding rings on their fingers prove this well.

Nothing more than a few kisses and caresses have intertwined you and Steve. Nothing physical, at least.

You’re quiet around him. Never say anything more than a sentence. You shy away when your eyes met, especially if he says something sweet.

Words take up the space as you grow closer. Steve is particularly good with words, whereas you often stutter and blend words together.

And sometimes, there is complete silence. It’s contentful. He replies to emails, and you sort through the pile of mess in the corner.

You tell him your dreams, and he tells you the ones he’s already fulfilled. What he studied in school, his family, his friends, his favourite country he’s been to. Nothing about Peggy—neither of you can bear it.

Unless she’s done something that’s hurt his feelings—like when she swears she doesn’t talk to Daniel Sousa anymore, but he hears them calling late at night.

Sometimes, Steve talks for so long that it gets dark, and your shift is over. He pays you extra—or, at least, tries to. You never take the money because nothing was lost. You enjoy the little time you have with him.

He takes you home, wanting you to avoid walking down the street in the pitch-black evening.

His car is a mess—the same as his office. He apologizes sincerely and pushes everything in the front seat to the back. The directions consist of “take a left” and “keep going straight.” You assume he’ll forget it. You don’t know how much this means to him.

Steve stays parked outside your building when you rush to your room. You live on the bottom floor and are right by the entrance. You’re a movie’s heroine when you throw yourself on your bed and giggle, butterflies filling your stomach.

He is something. The scriptwriter has Steve’s dialogue under his name but with “CHARACTER: TBA” in parentheses. No one knows if the film will be completed. No one knows how it will end.

Mr. Rogers stays parked outside, forehead resting against his steering wheel, and he’s trying to get a hold of his nerves.

Eventually, he grabs his pack of cigarettes that he always hides from Peggy. She often reminds him of his mother—without the sagacity. She tells Steve what he should or shouldn’t do a lot. He hasn’t lived since he breathed you in.

He smokes with the windows up, tears flowing down his face because he knows this can’t happen. He cannot betray his wife, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.

Steve comes to you on a starry night. You can see the moon and something else twinkling through the trees, and he rings your doorbell.

When you open the door, he’s a large man cowering like a small child. He wants to cry—you can tell. His mouth is in a frown that won’t disappear, and his eyes are glassy.

He’s drunk when he practically falls on top of you. He is slurring apologies that you know are unnecessary. His breath smells of whiskey, and he’s very heavy. You’ve fantasized about him on top of you during restless sleeps, but not quite like this.

Somehow, you crawl out from underneath the older, married man. You know it would be fruitless to lift Steve up, so you drag him to your bedroom.

You keep the door to the bathroom open and bring a bucket as well. The water on your bedside table is his now, and so is the charger and landline. Anything he wants of yours, he can have. He doesn’t even have to ask.

It’s hard to sleep when the one you desire so profoundly is in your bed, sadder than he should be. He drifts off with ease, but he’s violent in his tossing and turning. He shines with sweat and tears, soaking your sheets with his scent. You’re not sure if you’ll wash them. It’s a nightmare you can’t rouse him from, one that you don’t dare to ask him about the next morning.

Steve must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed. It’s small, too small for his big being. Or maybe it’s his hangover—perhaps even hunger. You offer to make whatever, but he grumbles.

He’s not sure why he’s taking his disappointment out on you. He wasn’t trying to test you, but you should’ve turned him away. You should’ve told him to go back home to his wife with her expected child inside her womb, but you don’t know this terrible secret. If you did, it would tear you apart from the inside out. This, he knows, for sure.

Mr. Rogers doesn’t say much to you in the morning, drinking two cups of coffee and staring out the window. You sit across him, and he looks past your face—the very visage he can never seem to tear his eyes away from.

“You shouldn’t have let me stay,” he finally says.

“Why not?” you ask, “you came here yourself. I could never turn you away.”

“You need to. You need to go out and, I don’t know, spend time with boys your age. Boys who don’t have wives or girlfriends they won’t leave you for.”

You flinch as if he’s raised one of his gentle hands.

Steve sighs. “That’s not what I meant. I think the lines between us have blurred. We’re not doing the right thing here, honey.”

You can’t look up, can’t face him. You wish this wasn’t the topic. You wish he had told you about his dream instead, and you would have told him yours. The one where he leaves you, the one where he gets his happy ever after with Peggy, and you get nothing.

He gives you a kiss on the head and bids you goodbye. You’re happy you have a day off tomorrow.

It’s almost Christmas, about two weeks since the conversation. Steve tries to make things seem normal. Normal in the sense that he hasn’t made his employee fall hopelessly in love with him. Then, normal in the sense that Peggy doesn’t exist, and he can still keep you in his arms until a customer comes in.

You go on dates with your guy friend like Mr. Rogers has insisted, but they’re unfulfilling. He often prefers to stay home and rent a movie, followed by sloppy kisses and dry humping that is unsatisfactory for only you.

“You don’t have to go out with only him,” Steve reminds you one day. You’re in his lap and he’s just finished reading through his entire diary with you. Most pages are about the employee he’s infatuated with, few are about his wife.

“I know. I just don’t want anyone else but you,” you tell him.

Moments later, his mouth is on your neck and his hand is up your skirt. You’re just about to come when a delivery man walks in, calling your boss’ name.

The shop is closed for a week, and your father has invited you to visit him and his new family. Your step-sisters are older and runway-ready. They have wonderful jobs and husbands that aren’t seeing women younger than them.

It’s like a closed practice. An event you can only watch from afar. You have no place here, even if your stepmother cleaned the guest room for you. You book a new plane ticket so you can go home early. You don’t make an excuse because they don’t even ask why; they just bid you goodbye.

You land at a horrible hour. There are too many taxis that families need—families trying to have a nice, hurt-free holiday.

And so you call Steve, and he answers on the first ring.

“Hello?” he greets, and you can sense some kind of anxiety in his voice.

“Um, hi. Happy holidays,” you tell him, nervous beyond belief as well.

His voice is smooth like honey, crooning in your frost-bitten ear.

“Happy holidays, baby,” he says. Peggy isn’t nearby.

“Uh, I’m at the airport. I was with my dad’s family, but I left. I don’t know how to get home. All the taxis are taken up.”

“I’m on my way, okay? Just sit tight, sweetie.”

“Thank you,” you exhale, “thank you so much, Steve.”

“Anything for my girl.”

When he arrives, he finds a place to quickly park. He takes your sole suitcase out of your hands and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

It’s sudden.

Mr. Rogers—your boss, a married man—is kissing you like you’re his only lover. Like he’s your boyfriend, and he’s missed you dearly.

You lean in for more, and he pulls away. Smiling, he opens the car door for you.

He takes the long way home, the ones with few cars driving alongside.

“I didn’t know you left,” he eventually says.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. It was a last-minute thing.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. I went to your place to say ‘hi,’ but no one was home.”

“I should’ve told you. I really am sorry,” you profess.

Steve places a finger on your mouth, shushing you. His hand moves to cup your cheek, and you push your face further into his palm.

“Thank you for picking me up,” you whisper, looking at him intently.

“I’m glad you called me. I missed you. I would do anything for you.”

You say nothing to that. You turn the radio on and the last song is one you recommended to him. You both hum the lyrics until it ends, and he turns it off.

“I always enjoy it when you drive me,” you confess after a while.

“Oh yeah? Why?” he smiles.

“You’re careful. You don’t go too fast or slow. You know what you’re doing. You’re such a pro at it,” you explain, slightly self-conscious of your reasoning.

“That all?” Steve teases, raising his eyebrows.

“Hm… No… I love your hands.” You giggle.

“Yeah? I know you do, baby. Always starin’ at them. I bet you think of them touching you all the time,” he rasps, briefly letting go of the wheel to rub at his beard.

You squeeze your thighs, mind already turning with scenarios where Steve touches you like a starved man.

His hand on your face moves back to your mouth, thumb swiping your bottom lip before pushing in. You suck on the digit, giving it the treatment you would to his cock. When you reach out to touch him, the car suddenly halts.

He stops on the side of the road, eyes watering. Regret etches his features, and you know what’s to come.

“We can’t,” Steve says, pulling his finger out. “Not yet, at least.”

“I know” is all you have to give.

Peggy visits the store in early March. Underneath her shirt is a small baby bump.

When you see it, your heart stops.

Steve brushes past you to lead her away, examining your face for hurt. You’re behind the shelves and watch the couple, your mouth parted with your eyes threatening to leak. You turn and head towards the back, choosing to hide somewhere so you can fall apart in solitude.

Mr. Rogers watches as you leave. He wishes you would look back and give him something, anything. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you this way. But he did, and he will try to make it right.

Peggy leaves eventually, and Steve closes the store early. He searches for you, listening for a sniffle or movement.

You sit on the floor, a broken vase next to you. He quickly nudges the debris away so you don’t get hurt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says, looking down at you. You look up, eyes bloodshot, and you stare at him with something he can’t place. He envelopes you in a hug, and you can feel his erratic heart clamouring against your face.

“Come with me to the office, please,” Steve begs.

You shake your head.

“You ask too much of me, Steve. You have a wife and an innocent child on the way. We can’t keep doing this.”

“No, no. Please, just come. Please, honey,” he pleads once more. “At least hit me, yell at me, tell me to go fuck myself.”

“Why would I? I’m happy for you. You’re getting what you’ve always wanted.” Your voice cracks, and you force a smile. Steve sees through it all.

“No. I want you—I love you. But I don’t have you, do I? Listen, I’ll leave her. I’ll still be a good father, even though I know that’s not my kid at all. We’ll go elsewhere. Move into a nice home and do whatever we want,” he rambles.

Strong Mr. Rogers breaks apart in front of you. You take him into your arms, and you both cry together.

You’re the one that leads him to his office. You sit on the couch with him and notice that his wedding band is gone. He always wears it when Peggy comes by, but he didn’t this time.

“That night you took me in—I dreamt of you. I dreamt you weren’t mine, and you didn’t love me anymore. I messed something up and didn’t fix it. It was the worst nightmare I’ve ever had,” Steve admits.

You can’t eat; you can’t sleep. Your chest aches with every breath you take without him, and quite often as you clutch at it in the midst of another breakdown, you wonder if dying from a broken heart is possible. 

You shuffle through each day like a zombie, mindless with no real destination in mind— just wandering around waiting for something to distract you. 

It’s not until you get an email from him nine days in— addressed not only to you, but the Dean— that the agony seems to lessen slightly at the sight of his name. 

“I’m reaching out as you haven’t been to class for the past week and a half. I’m growing concerned for your wellbeing as this is just not like you. Please get in touch as soon as possible.”

It becomes an olive branch that you obsess over, desperately trying to seek out any hidden message he could be attempting to send. But after days of searching, you have nothing to show for your efforts and you begin to resent him. 

Anger bubbles up in place of your heartache— a strange sense of still needing him like you need air, but at the same time, wishing you could hurt him just as badly as he has hurt you. 

You can’t believe he has the audacity to show concern like he’s not solely responsible for shattering your world into a million tiny irreparable pieces, without a shred of noticeable apathy.

-

The driving force that propels you to attend his class surprises even you. You wake before your alarm, eager to dress in the outfit you excitedly picked the night before. Your stomach flutters as you walk through campus, feeling the most clear-headed you have in days. You can’t wait to see him. 

You feel a little giddy at the prospect of seeing evidence of the breakup on his face— perhaps red-rimmed eyes or melancholy preventing his smile from reaching his lips, but he somehow looks better now than before.

He doesn’t bat an eyelid when you slink into the hall while he’s mid-speech. He barely acknowledges your presence when you hand him your overdue essay; a secret love note slipped in between the pages just like you used to do. 

But what stings the most is that he doesn’t stop you from leaving when class is over. It’s like you don’t exist. Like the past nine months meant nothing, along with the litany of promises he’s already broken. 

He’s doing fine and you’re not? How is that fair? your mind screams as you glance over your shoulder, catching Rebecca hovering around his desk like a common house fly, buzzing around shit. 

You pause in the doorway, your stomach dropping like lead when Andy finally approaches her, and places his hand delicately on her arm.

And as he flashes her a wide grin, all of the momentum inside you deflates— the hurt and pain he has caused you morphs into pure rage.

-

The following evening, you know he’ll be alone at home. Five times you try to talk yourself out of going, but the overriding consensus eventually wins— he won’t be able to turn you away on his own doorstep. You just want to talk to him. 

Maybe ask if he’s replaced you with Rebecca yet. 

You pull up outside his neighbors’ and switch off the engine, gathering up the courage to get out when you notice movement at the front door. Andy steps outside, but he’s not alone. 

You’ve only seen her— his wife— in photographs, and you actually hate that she’s more beautiful in person. Part of you wonders why Andy would betray her, but then you remember all of the horror stories he would tell you. 

Her beauty is only skin deep. 

From the things you know about their relationship— how strained it is— it surprises you when he wraps his arm around her shoulder, leaning in to kiss her hair as they walk to his car. They’re laughing, smiling without a care in the world. From this vantage point, they look and act like newlyweds. You feel sick as you keep watching, noticing the way he gently pats her ass when she climbs into the passenger seat. 

The same passenger seat you’ve sat in countless times on drives back from secret trysts in dingy motel rooms, while your cunt still throbs.

Just before he gets into the car, he looks over his shoulder and for a wild moment, you swear he locks eyes with you from across the street.

-

He’s brought her here. The same place you used to have dinner. For a moment it feels like a knife wound to the heart that he would have the audacity to share this with her, but then you realise he has to be sending you a message. He must know you’ve followed him and he’s trying to communicate with you covertly so as not to draw attention to it.

Your stomach flutters, feeling a heavy sense of relief wash over you. 

He still cares. He still wants you.

For an hour, you sit in the parking lot before you regret drinking so much soda on your way here, needing desperately to pee. You know you could go to the mall across the street, but your feet pull you towards the restaurant before you can stop them. 

You make your way to the restroom, careful to avoid their table, and just as you’re about to leave, you spot Andy making his way towards you. Your heart leaps into your chest and you double back, waiting for the moment he’ll come bursting in, overwhelmed with joy at the sight of you. 

Nothing but silence follows, except for the dull thud of the men’s door opening and closing. 

Naughty. He wants you to go to him. 

Giggling, you sneak out of the women’s and push open the door to the men’s restroom, confused a little when you don’t spot Andy at the urinals. You’re about to retreat when you hear his familiar whistle, remembering all the mornings after the night before where you’d wake up to the sound of him in the en suite, whistling his favorite tune. 

He knows you’re listening. Dropping breadcrumbs in the hopes you’ll follow the trail right to his feet. And as you slip through the small gap between the door and frame, you hungrily swallow down every piece.

-

You wait until he’s finished in the stall before making yourself known. You don’t want to frighten him but as he begins to turn in the small space, ready to leave, he spots you in the doorway and nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“Jesus, what the fuck!” he half shouts, half whispers. 

“Oh god, I missed you,” you gush. Andy stares wide-eyed at you when you rush towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso. You inhale deeply and revel in his familiar smell, the scent enveloping you like a hazy dream. It feels so good to be so close to him again. Pulling back, you gaze up at him before rising onto your tiptoes, preparing to place a kiss on his lips. 

He quickly intervenes, pushing you away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you so I went to your office, but you weren’t there so I thought I’d go by your house,” you reply simply, like he’s just asked you what two plus two is. 

“Th-that still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

You shrug. “I saw you getting in the car, so I followed you.”

“Why would you do that?” 

“I wanted to see where you were going, silly,” you giggle. “Bet you couldn’t imagine my surprise when you brought her to our place,” you add a little sharply.

“Actually, I used to come here…” he pauses before continuing with, “y’know, before.”

The metaphorical knife in your chest twists at his words, but you manage to recover quickly. 

“It’s okay,” you smile, “I can let that go.” 

You reach out for his hand, loving the softness, but inexplicably rough of his skin on yours. He allows it for a moment, running his thumb over yours before snatching it away. 

“You can’t be here.” 

“Afraid she’ll catch us?” you sidle up to him with a cute laugh. “Is this a new thing you want us to try?” Gently, you cup him through his pants and a wave of heat ripples through your gut. Andy hisses, his cock stirring against you as you squeeze gently, encouraging it to swell. “C’mon, don’t you remember the risks we used to take?” You rise up again, kissing the underside of his bottom lip. Even his beard feels amazing brushing across your chin.

He snaps, yelling, “No!” as he pushes you away, yet again. 

Sudden hot tears gather in your eyes at his outburst and a horrid realization sets in. “Have you really moved on already?” 

“How can I move on from something we never really had in the first place?” he brutally admits.

Ouch.

“But you promised me the world,” you start tearfully, “why would you choose her over me?”

Andy’s brow furrows. “She’s my wife.”

So? “That didn’t seem to matter when you were fucking me in her bed.”

White hot pain explodes across your cheek as the sound of the slap follows. Your hand shoots up to cradle the area, your skin throbbing. Fresh tears form as you try to stop yourself from crying with a loud sniff.

Andy steps to you, covering your hand with his. You’ve never seen him look so apologetic, even after he dumped you. “I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— that was wrong.” 

You stare up at him, wide-eyed as he comforts you, asking if you’re okay. You just nod slowly, unable to find the words. This is what you needed to prove he still cares. 

“What we did, we shouldn’t have done,” he says softly. “I took advantage of you.” 

“Was it really taking advantage when I wanted you too?”

Andy smiles kindly, stroking your hand with his thumb. “I can’t give you what you want. You need someone who will treat you like you deserve.” 

“Why would I want anybody else?” you counter back with a shake of your head.

He lifts his hand from yours and places them both on his hips with a heavy sigh. “I know it’s hard to get over somebody you care about, but with time, it will get easier.” He reaches out, tenderly rubs your bicep as a form of comfort. He looks awkward doing it, like he’s afraid to touch you, when he’s touched you— fucked you in more intimate places than most boys would even be able to find on a map. 

Is he recounting that from experience? Is he telling you he’s not really over you either despite his insistence he is?

“I don’t want time, I don’t want it to get easier. I just want you.” 

Andy rubs his fingers into his eyes and lets go of an exasperated huff. “Listen to me,” he glances up, lips tight in a frown, “I’ve tried to be nice about it, but this is the last time I’m gonna say this. We’re over.”

Your cheek smarts as your jaw tightens and the rage you’ve managed to suppress bubbles up. “Then I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone you hit me.” 

He stares down at you in contempt for the first time ever, his features twisted in disgust. “That was an accident, I didn’t mean to do it, you know that.” 

“Was it though?” You give him a teasing pout. “‘Mr. Barber came onto me, slapped me when I said no’,” you put on a sad voice before it returns to normal. “Sounds like an open and shut case to me.” 

“Don’t you understand how damaging those accusations would be?” he spits, incensed. “I would lose my job, my marriage, everything.” 

You smile at him, giddy. “But then we could be together for real! No college to prosecute you for fucking a student and she’d divorce you, it’s perfect.”

The ire on Andy’s face contorts into sheer bafflement. “You crazy bitch, you’ve lost your fucking mind.” He tries to shuffle past you, but you block his way. “Get out of my way before I move you myself.” 

“What are you going to do, Sir?” you taunt. “Hit me again?” 

He lunges forward, hand wrapped around your throat and forces you up against the wall of the stall. “Don’t tempt me,” he breathes out heavily, gazing down at your body until his eyes meet yours once again. “Why I ever thought getting involved with you was a good idea, I’ll never know.” 

“Because, and I quote, ‘no other pussy could ever come close’,” you manage to croak out from beneath his grip. Reaching out, you cup him through his pants and he hisses between gritted teeth. 

Andy swats your hand away, but you quickly grab hold of his, shoving it beneath the hem of your dress. You let out a moan as his fingers brush up against your damp panties. 

You see the way Andy’s eyes flicker at the contact, the slight loss of control when his fingers flex around your throat. You move his hand up and down your clothed cunt, letting go of tiny whimpers as flames of heat begin burning through your core. 

“Touch me,” you beg. “Please.”

His jaw ticks like he’s fighting with himself, growling under his breath as you use his hand to pluck your panties to the side. 

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you purr. “Show me how much you’ve missed my tight little cunt.”

Closing his eyes, he mutters, “Stop,” but makes no attempt to pull away. 

He wants this just as much as you. 

And when you finally manipulate his fingers inside you, you can feel the resistance ebb as he starts to fight for control and eventually you let go, confident in the knowledge he’s not going to pull away. You reach for him and unzip his pants, the warmth of his cock meeting your fingertips as you slip your hand inside the gap.

“Remember how good I used to make you feel,” you whisper with delicacy. 

He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at you the entire time, face tight with disdain as the sloppy wet sounds of your cunt fill the tiny stall. Legs trembling, you can feel your orgasm beginning to crest. The pressure in your gut becomes too much. You push at his hand to move it away, but Andy doesn’t stop.

“No. You wanted this, so you’re gonna come,” he tells you sharply. “Do it.” 

“I c-can’t.” 

“You will.” He leans in, capturing your lips in a wet kiss as he presses the base of his palm against your clit, and you unravel like a spool of thread. 

You’re still coming as he removes his hands from your body, hurriedly lifting you up around his waist. He’s inside you in one swift stroke, stuffing you to the brim for a split second before he’s pulling back out. 

He fucks you like he hates you. Mean, hard thrusts that push you back against the stall until your spine physically aches from the force. You embrace it— every bruise, every welt— the pain reminds you of how close you came to losing him, and you promise yourself that it won’t happen again.

Another wave of heat builds steadily beneath your skin, tingling all the way down to your toes. This time, you welcome the overstimulation, squirting all over his cock with a heady moan. 

“Oh fuck,” he growls into the juncture of your neck, teeth nipping at your skin. “God, holy shit.” Andy roughly pulls out, and drops you to your feet. He tugs on his dick as you move to kneel before him, presenting your tongue like a dog waiting for a treat. 

Andy grabs your hair, tugging hard on the roots as he shoves his cock to the back of your throat and you gag from the lack of warning. He fucks your mouth, exploding messily across your tongue with a strained grunt, stray droplets of cum spilling out from the corner of your lips, unable to lick them away. 

Your throat throbs when he retreats, and blessed air rushes back into your lungs with an almighty whoosh. Eventually, he loosens his grip on your skull and leans into the stall with his palm, eyes firmly closed. His breathing is still jagged and unsteady as he repeats, “fuck,” to himself as the enormity of the situation comes crashing down around him. 

Finally, his eyes flicker open, the pure disgust and conviction returning to his expression as he stares down at you, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. 

“This is it,” he states curtly. You slowly rise to your feet in the small gap, leaning in to kiss him but he pulls back. 

“Don’t be like that, Daddy,” you pout. “You used to love tasting yourself on my lips.”

His jaw tightens in frustration as he snaps, “I mean it,” and your name rolls off his tongue like molasses.

“Okay,” you smirk with a light shrug, triumphant that despite his insistence, you know it won’t be. You have leverage and Andy, of all people, should know that's the golden ticket. You slip from the stall without another word, taking a moment to check yourself out in the mirror before turning to press a finger to your lips. Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open without bothering to check if anyone is around before sauntering out, a little limp new to your gait. 

***

ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @chamberofsloths @cevansgurl @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @kellhems @ladybug05 @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @threeminutesoflife @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wintasssoldier @xoxonotme

requested by @brandycranby | hiiiiii eun ✨💕 for blurb night, maybe we could see a fluff or hurt/comfort + unexpectedly soft!ransom + baby? like a teeny tiny chubby wubby baby 🥺

an | aaaahhhhh i'm so glad you sent in this request brandy bby, i've been DYING to write soft!ran lately and this is just the sweetest idea ever ever, hope you enjoy sweet friend and thank you for the amazing idea!!

You don't hear Ransom as he returns home from work, tossing his bag beside the door with a quiet grumble. As always, he's not in the best mood after spending nearly six hours at his grandfather's, helping the old writer with the logistics of his business. He can't wait to spend time with you, the sunshine that always brightens his day and erases any worries that might be floating around in his mind. He doesn't see you as he looks around the living room, but what he does see catches him off guard. On the floor, across the room, sits a strange-looking contraption— some sort of swing. He lets out a gasp as he sees what's sitting inside: a tiny baby whose big, bright eyes are looking over at him with a darling sense of curiosity.

"Oh my," Ransom hums to himself. He stands frozen for a few moments, looking around the room again. You're nowhere to be found. "Now what are you doing here all alone?" he hums softly, finally building up the courage to start making his way over to the swing.

He stops several feet away, just observing the tiny being. Judging by the sweet pink lettering on her jumper that spells out Mama's Girl, he's able to easily guess the infant's gender. "My goodness," the large man whispers, his face softening as the sweet little girl smiles at the sound of his voice, "you're so tiny. What're you doing here, hmm? Was y/n looking after you this afternoon?"

He sits down cross-legged on the floor, scooting himself up a bit more as the baby sways gently in the swing, clapping her tiny hands together clumsily to show the stranger that she's happy to see him. Ransom bites back a smile, reaching out a hand to brush back the little one's thin tufts of hair. "Hi there, pretty girl," he murmurs, "Are you clappin' for me? That's so nice of you, sweetheart. What a smart girl you are."

The infant claps a few more times, giggling softly as a defeated smile finally crosses the brown-haired man's face. "You're too sweet," he admits, stroking the baby's chubby little cheek. "I wonder where y/n is, hmm? Have you seen her?" he asks comically, his grin widening as the baby just continues to wiggle and smile in the swing. "You wanna come out, sweetheart? C'mere, let me hold you."

His hands are steady and careful as he gently unbuckles her from the swing, being sure to support her neck and head as he lifts her up and brings her to his chest. "Oh my," his voice flutters as she tucks her tiny head against his shoulder, snuggling right up to him. "There you go, angel. I got you," he whispers, stroking her hair as he bounces her gently in his arms.

"Welcome home," you giggle as you enter the doorway to the kitchen, your heart swelling at the sight of the giant man holding the tiny baby so carefully, as if she's the most precious thing in the world.

"Look, there's y/n!" Ransom coos excitedly to the little one, causing her to look over at you and offer you a huge, toothless smile. "I bet she missed you!"

"Looks like you're Uncle Ran, huh?" you joke as you join the two on the floor, rubbing the tiny girl's back as Ransom sways and cradles her. "Never knew you liked babies."

"Me neither," the man chuckles, looking down at your niece with the gentlest smile. "But I think this little one might've changed my mind. Look at how tiny she is. So tiny and precious, aren't you?" he fusses her again, earning a chorus of giggles from the baby as he messes her hair carefully. "How long is she staying?" Ransom asks, looking back up at you. "Can we see her again soon? I'll take off work, Harlen won't mind— we should bring her over to see him! He loves kids."

"Hey, hey, slow down," you laugh, leaning over to kiss the sweet man's forehead as you remind him, "I haven't even told you her name yet."

It’s days like today you find yourself appreciating Lifeguards more. It’s not just about shirtless men baring their pecs for the whole world to see, (although a bonus) It’s more than the praise and hero complex.

It’s about wanting to make a difference, to be a savior, sure, but going to bed at night is just a bit easier knowing you helped a human being breathe again. Ari was a lot like that, you noticed.

His tanned cheeks would lift in a slight smile when anyone congratulated him on his newest rescue. Ari didn’t care about the compliments, or how he was perceived-

“You gonna say hi, or just stare?” Lou’s voice breaks through your head, causing you to stutter, your eyes breaking from where Ari sits on his post, searching the pool for any trouble.

“Staring is good enough.”

Lie.

It wasn’t.

You murmur, continuing to wipe at the Snack Bar counter. The adults were more messy than the kids. Sweat breaks above your brow as the heat fills your veins, wishing you were inside the pool or inside an air-conditioner.

Either one would work.

“Those vultures have been gobbling him up all night, guess your one of them too,” Lou says, her brows lifting in amusement. She takes her yellow rubber gloves off and lays them down on one of the chairs The Snack Bar was designed with sliding windows that face the pool, mostly to receive money and dish out snacks, but you had found a much better use for it.

Oggaling.

Lou wasn’t wrong either, four women well into their 50s had been sitting out tanning all day, not even bothering to watch their kids. Each set of eyes had never left Ari’s body, and although you were just doing the same thing-

“Don’t say it’s different. It’s not.”

You huff, throwing down the rag on the table you were just wiping down, leaving it half-completed.

“Do you have anything better to do, Lou?” You get a glimpse of her ponytail and her small body. Although a pest, Lou was almost like a mother to you. “Summer Mother” that is.

Every year you worked at Camp Constaga’s Snack Bar. Although it meant switching TV for bracelet-making and campfires, it didn’t matter. If anything, you’d prefer the woods over home.

She flashes you her lucky smile, throwing a rag over her shoulder, making the edges of her uniform damp. “You know I don’t!” You shake your head, a smile blooming on your lips.

Lou tosses you a look, clearly seeing the blush on your cheeks. “Go!” Throwing her hand up in mock threat, she disappears into the back of the bar.

Yeah, that’s right, Go prepare the chicken nuggets. It takes you a couple of moments to realize she took your rag, the one you need to finish cleaning the tables.

“Bitch!”

The only sound is the rustling of frozen chicken nugget bags and the echo of Lou chuckling.

👙

“Shut Up And Dance” plays loudly over the pool speakers. It’s the anthem of every summer, and boy does it never get old. Night falls silently on Camp Conastoga’s pool, tonight is a very special night.

It’s glow swim.

It’s a camp tradition, every month they hold a “glow” swim. Kids and adults wear trippy bathing suits and a whole shit ton of glow sticks are thrown in the pool. It’s simple, but fun.

Really Fucking Fun.

“Lou! Where did you put the paint?” You call over the loud splashing of children. The lifeguards are already on duty, and the adult swim doesn't start for another hour or so. You see her signature auburn ponytail exit the bathroom, her bare stomach, thighs, and arms marked with glow-in-the-dark paint.

“Handprints? That simple Louie girl?” You tease, grabbing the paint from her hands. You bought a whole array of colors yesterday, the kids used all of the pool’s supply.

“I’m sorry, shall I draw a pentacle?” She adjusted the strap on her neon green bathing suit, pulling it to snugly fit on her shoulder.

You elicit a chuckle, filling the pool’s backroom with the ungodly sound. “It would fit, you are a demon.”

“Very funny.” Lou rolls her green eyes, sending them back into her head with far more exaggeration than necessary. Holding tight onto the bottle of green paint, you turn around, and walk away from her, heading to your cabin to receive the other colors.

“See you out there-” You choke down a strangled whine, your face colliding with something hard and solid. Pain shoots through your jaw, and the only thing you can hear is labored breathing and music.

Upbeat and happy music.

Not very fit for this situation.

A backless dress and some beat-up sneaks…

My discotheque, Juliet teenage dream…

I felt it in my chest as she looked at me…

And then darkness.

👙

Waking up in the infirmary was not the plan tonight. You blink your eyes, once… twice… You can see a window to the right of you, it’s pitch black outside. You stir, quickly trying to get up, but a hand on your stomach stops you, splaying against your belly and pushing you down.

You whine, squirming against the hand. It’s big and feels as if sparks are being emitted through your body from the fingers. When you open your eyes, you understand why.

“Hey-”

“Shh…- It’s okay, sweet girl.”

All it took was a few words to get you rising, slowly this time as Ari’s hand fell from your stomach, tanned fingers grabbing your elbow to ease you into a sitting position. The pain has reduced to a dull ache, you don’t focus on it, not when Ari is standing above you, lifeguard shorts on, shirt nowhere to be found, and is that…worry in his eyes?

You grab at your head, attempting to find the source of your pain. You must have hit something, now it’s reduced to just a small headache. “What happened?” The words you speak are discombobulated as you try to adjust to the light in the infirmary.

Children can be heard screaming and splashing outside.

So you hadn’t been put in a coma.

You aren’t going to wake up to a zombie apocalypse.

This is very good news.

“You slammed into my chest, I’m so sorry, mama.”

Mama? Surely it was just a name lifeguards give to crying little girls, it was a cute, sweet nickname.

Until it came out of Ari Levinson's mouth.

“What time is it?” You shift, still holding your head, expecting the headache to just disappear at your touch.

It doesn't.

“10:00” Lou answers from seemingly nowhere. Did she just watch that interaction go down?

When she steps in front of you, the gleam in her eye tells you all you need to know.

“Adult swim starts soon, I have to put my paint on.”

“Woah, you sure? You did pass out on us, mama.”

God.

Will he shut up and keep talking?

The heat that pools between your thighs isn't normal, and you can’t stand to be close to Ari anymore. If you would… there’s no telling what you might do.

Something you would regret. Ari doesn't even know you.

“It’s just a headache. I’m not dying.” The words have more bite than you wish, but this room is getting crowded, and the heat that encircles you is suffocating. Especially when Ari tilts his chin up, his fingers perching on his hips in confusion.

You didn’t want to be rude, but it seems it may be the only way to get out of this room.

“I gotta go get the paint.” You slid off the table, hearing the paper crinkle beneath your weight. Lou moves out of the way, and when she does, you accidentally clip Ari’s shoulder. You don’t turn around to apologize though. The heat is too much, you need to get that paint and get in the pool.

Even though being away from him has made the heat worse.

👙

Adult swim had started the moment you finished in the pool bathroom. All over your body are neon pink swirls and made-up symbols, matching your pink bikini. Ari sat perched on the very end, his eyes wandering over the kids complaining to their parents.

You were aware of the way your nipples hardened against the thin slice of fabric, how your breath picked up when Ari’s eyes landed on your face. His usual sunglasses were gone, and even from across the people, his blue eyes drilling holes in your body.

You turn away, internally wishing your hips wouldn’t swish as you did so.

They did.

Traitors.

“Hey! Over here!” Lou and Reed call from their positions in the water, the reflective surface bringing the night sky into the pool. Your head still ached, but enough that you could get some swimming in. You wouldn’t miss this night for the world.

You walk to the side of the pool and before Lou or Reed pulls you in, you jump. There’s a moment when you do so, where the rest of the world disappears, it’s only you, the wind, and the water you're about to plunge into.

The glow sticks leave a path to which you follow, feeling your breathing dissipate as you're pulled into the water, swishing your hair around, wetting the fabric of your bathing suit, and crowding you in cool relief.

It’s the polar opposite of Ari’s warm presence.

You come up for air, swimming to the top of the pool. Lou and Reed are already next to you, splashing from every angle. “What are you five!” You yell, despite doing the same, gathering water in the scoop of your palm and tossing it across your best friend's faces.

For the moment, for the night, you would forget about Ari’s eyes burning into your back, watching as you splash your friends, hearing your laughter fill the pool as it gets lost in the night.

This is purgatory and paradise at once.

Being away from him, but relishing in the memories you're creating.

Both hot and cold.

You sink into the water again, allowing it to swallow all your fears, soon they would come back, you were on after-hour duty. With none other than Ari himself.

👙

All of the adults left hours ago, Lou and Reed went back to their shared cabin, and the Camp Children gathered around the campfire deep in the woods. It was just you and Ari, and the simple task of gathering all of the glowsticks.

You let out a breath, your fingers finding the smudge pain on your hips as you stand over the edge of the pool. The sky is deeper than before, the stars shining bright above you. And the waning crescent moon, hidden beneath crowded clouds.

It was a beautiful night indeed.

“You ready?” Ari’s voice breaks through your head-space, before talking yourself out of it, you turn around. It’s hard not to roam Ari’s body, his tanned abs, his long blond hair, and his beard.

No one could ignore that, no one.

You stomp a foot on instinct. “No one could ignore it” was your excuse for “this man turns me on with just his smile.”

“Yeah.” You squeak, watching Ari’s arms form a perfect dive pattern, jumping into the water with ease. The glow sticks make it visible to you, how easy he glides, picking up each stick as his path goes dark.

You do the same, jumping on the opposite end, with less grace than him. Usually one of the other lifeguards would be doing this, but most went to join the campfire. The pool gets darker and darker as you pick up each glowstick, resurfacing every few seconds for breath. You break from your trance when something hard hits the top of your head, the headache rocking through you with a sharp pain. You know it’s Ari, he must have been going for the glow sticks in the middle of the pool.

“Mama.” Ari resurfaces, watching as you do the same, rubbing the top of your head.

“Are you okay? Goddamn me. I don’t mean to keep hurting you, sweet girl.” Ari’s hair is wet, framing his features perfectly. A dozen glow sticks reside in his palm, matching your own.

“Come here.” He leads you to the very edge of the pool, and although you shout at your body to stop moving, your legs ignore your pleas. The heat grows with every second you spend in lifeguards presence.

You both toss your glow sticks into the basket, as you pool yourself up and out of the pool, water splashing as you turn around to sit on the edge, your legs still in the water. Ari stands in front of you, not exactly between your thighs, but very fucking close to them.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, running a hand over his wet hair, looking to the top of your head.

“I’ll be fine.” You utter, looking away from him. This man will be the death of you. They kick up a little bit of water, watching it swirl at your feet.

“Look at me, mama.” Ari pleads, moving through the water, so close to where your knees touch his chest.

“Please.” It’s almost inaudible, but you catch it, you see the desperation in his eyes,

“Fuck, Ari.”

You don’t even try to talk yourself out of it. You jump back into the pool quickly, water droplets spraying everywhere as you grab the back of Ari’s head, pulling him down to your lips.

He’s surprised at first, but when you groan, feeling the heat of his lips, the way they kiss and wrap you in warmth, he kisses back. Moving you to rest your back against the side of the pool, pushing you gently into the smooth tile.

Ari pulls away first, and the way he looks at you, it seems as though he is fighting with himself. “Sweet girl-”

You bring a finger to his puffy lips, silencing him. “No talking, more kissing”

Ari doesn't pretest, because this time it’s him that’s pressing into you, water grabbing at you both, your tongues intertwining in perfect harmony. You both pull away for air, the buzzing sound of crickets overwhelming you.

“Do you want me here, mama?” Your eyebrows quirked up as your hands still rest in his hair, forever tugging him closer.

“I will take you anywhere, Ari.”

It’s all the permission he needs. His fingers come around to your back, reaching for the tie of your pink bathing suit. Your body racks with anticipation as Ari tugs, and the fabric falls away, revealing your nipples to the cool night air.

His breath heaves as he stares down at you, his eyes locking with the point nubs. He groans. “Your perfect, sweet girl.”

“Fucking perfect”

He dives down, taking a peak into his mouth, and swirling it around his tongue. You arch your back away from the pool tiles, pressing into his hardened cock. The water makes it easier for you two to move, as Ari nurses your breasts, you undo the string of his lifeguard shorts.

He removes his mouth from you with a pop, helping you free himself from the restaurants. Your top and his shorts are thrown with the glow sticks, forgotten. His cock is hard against his chest, even in the water it’s not hard to tell.

His tanned fingers find your bottoms, running over your stomach, until they're stationed at their ties. “You ready, perfect girl?”

Your breath fans, your response is merely a rasp as Ari crowds you, his cock pressing against your stomach. “No.”

“Good”.

The ties snap as he tugs at them, water crowds you, between your legs as your slick folds are exposed to the cool sensation. Ari takes your right leg carefully in his rough palm, lifting it to pin the appendage against the pool tile. He pushed further, his cock lining up at your entrance.

He wants this as much as you do.

“Open for me, sweet girl.”

You part your other leg a bit, leaving enough room for Ari to settle comfortably in between your thighs.

“Doing really good for me, this is going to hurt.” You nod, not caring.

The heat is bubbling, threatening to boil over now and the anticipation is getting irritating. Ari places a kiss against your temple, his beard scratching against your skin as he thrust, pushing the tip of his cock against your folds.

You yelp, grabbing at his bare back, feeling the water around you, paired with his cock dipping inside of you was otherworldly.

“That’s it..” Ari smiles, his unoccupied hand coming up to cradle your face, tilting your head down to where your bodies meet.

“Watch as you take me, mama.”

You do, with both pain and pleasure as Ari inches his cock into you slowly. The reflection of the water enhances his every feature, and the wins of his cock are pulsating with pleasure.

“Good girl, just a little more-” His voice is husky with need but still soft and caring.

It turns you on just the more.

“I’m gonna fill you up, Breathe for me alright?” His words are so filthy yet so… soft.

Caring?

Ari watches you, your eyes still on your pussy, watching it take more of his cock in, feeling the pain as he stretches your walls. You take a deep breath as he asks, and scream when he thrust to the hilt.

“Shh…Good girl.” Ari drags out each syllable as he whispers, his cock buried inside you, as his body fully presses into yours, his hand balancing your pinned leg against the wall.

“Can I move, mama?”

Words do not escape your throat, you just tug at Ari’s hair, clenching around his cock a few times, attempting to adjust. You nod as your lips collide, it silences the scream as he deals his first thrust.

Your heavy breaths fixate on the point of completion, each time Ari drags his cock out of you, more water fills its spot, adding stimulation to your clit. Your fingers wrap around the pool's edge, your eyes snapping shut.

“You take me so well, sweetheart.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you over that edge.”

Ari’s words make you clench harder, a smile passes his lips as he groans, feeling what he does to you, feeling what you do to him every time his cock pulsates at your tightness.

Your breath speeds up with Ari's thrust, your back arching against the pool tiles as he fucks you deeper into the concrete, making sure your head never hits the ground. The words that come out of your mouth are rushed, but nonetheless true.

“I can’t stop thinking about how perfect we would be together.” You say them with urgency with rush, as if they were slipping from your mind. Ari’s thrust doesn't cease, he only groans, melting against you.

“Me too, sweet girl.”

“Me. Fucking. Too.” Your orgasm is so close, it feels like you're drowning in pleasure. Your nails find safety in Ari’s back, holding onto him for support as his fingers dip into the water, finding your clit and begging to rub.

He knows you're close.

“Come for me, mama. Make a mess on my cock.” Ari echos, his cock fighting the force of the waves he’s making, slamming into you each time, his fingers rubbing faster. You whimper, meeting his thrust with your own attempts, chasing the pleasure. You clench down hard, “There you go…doing so good.”

Your orgasm hits you at full force as Ari pumps his cock, his fingers riding you through it. Until he halts, filling you with his release. The warm feeling settles deep into your stomach.

“Mama.” Ari finishes, you can still feel his cock pulsating inside you, his labored breathing slowing to match your own. Despite the cool water, sweat runs down both of your bodies.

“Your-” He starts, you giggle, deciding to cut the sexual tension. Ari’s brows turn up, waiting to hear what you have to say,

“Hot? Beautiful? Fantastic? Best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Mine” Ari whispers against your lips, shutting you up.

V: Andy. He was the first man (and the last man) to make you really experience the stretch of a cock. Maybe it's the size of him, but perhaps it's the technique. Andy made you addicted to him fucking you, has you begging to put it in and let you warm him at least. To the point that throughout a casual day you will randomly feel this emptiness and yearning to be filled. No toy could compare, not even if all you imagined was Andy. You need his cock to sate that need. Andy showed you that certain angles will make you see the stars. As well proved, that you may cry out of discomfort and still come hard when he pushes deep deep in, until his balls press against your skin and his tip nudges your cervix.

O: Steve. Your thighs clench at the mere though of Steve's mouth. You never knew a man who was so into eating you out and who had a mind set on claiming complete victory over your spent body. Once Steve has his lips on your pussy, he decides when it's over. And it's never when you beg for it, sobbing. It's when you're half-fainted, unable to scream anymore. What was also a mindblowing novelty with Steve - the blowjobs. You quite liked them before, always made you feel powerful how you could reduce a man to pleading and calling you a goddess. With Steve it's different. He praises you, yes, but he still is in control because his cock feels like the highest mountain peak you're determined to reach, but never can fully take it.

Someone had been trying to get Steve's attention for a while now. He faintly registered a voice calling his name, over and over, but it was like the rain dripping on his skin put him in a trance.

His whole life, it always seemed to rain around Steve. Wether it was as a little boy, running through the newly formed puddles in his grandmothers garden, with the elderly woman trying to keep up with him, or as a young man, meeting up with Bucky at the bar whenever it poured.

It also rained when he saw her for the first time.

He stood beneath the awning of a small bakery, shielding himself from the rain, when he heard the soft sound of her heels meeting the ground. Looking up, he could tell that he’d have a hard time calming his nerves if she went to stand next to him, and like she could read his mind, she joined him with clattering teeth. Once she met his gaze, she gave him a little smile.

If Steve hadn’t been half as self conscious as he was, he’d have spoken to her in the way Bucky would’ve. But he was no Bucky, and even if he were to somehow come up with the greatest line anyone had ever used, he was no line guy. But then, all of a sudden she started humming underneath her breath; all of me, why not take all of me? And Steve was done for.

Honey, he decided. He'd only needed those few seconds to know her voice sounded like honey. And so he did something out of character; he asked if she was cold.

If he could go back in time, Steve thought, he'd go back to that very day, stand underneath that very awning, and ask her to keep humming to him forever.

,,Are you okay, Steve?'' finally, he looked up at a worried Natasha, who was still trying to get his attention.

,,I asked if you wanted to come join us inside. You shouldn't be sitting out here. It's cold.''

He looked up at the sky, in hopes of finding some shooting star in the midnight sky, before reasoning ,,Serum, remember?''

,,Well you might be enhanced, but you're not invincible,'' she yawned, ,,nothing wrong with taking care of yourself.'' he nodded in agreement, mumbling something about being right behind her. His hand reaching into his shirt pocket to find the locket Fury managed to retrieve for him.

,,Stevie, come on! The movie starts in five minutes!'' she called, ,,I don't want to miss the beginning!''

Steve had no idea what Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant had been talking about for the previous hour, what he did know however, was that they could talk about it for another hour and he wouldn't care as long as his girl kept holding his hand.

,,Don't you just love her?'' she whispered after one of Katharine Hepburn's witty remarks, and all Steve could think was 'I really do.'

He’d happily listened to her rambling about her favourite parts of the movie, when she suddenly pulled him into the direction of a photobooth.

Smiling at that memory, he put the locket back inside his pocket, and finally joined his friends inside.

🕊️

Whenever he was in his apartment, a certain wave of nostalgia seemed to wash over him. He blamed it on being alone, although he wasn’t willing to change that. But tonight, it was much more than that. Tonight there was a certain loneliness he hadn’t felt since he woke up after seventy years in the ice.

There were few things to bring him comfort in this new world he found himself in. Beside her locket, he was also able to retrieve his girls record player along with a part of her record collection.

Tonight though, not even the voice of Billie Holiday was able to bring him any kind of comfort.

It had been a wedding, a happy event. The whole team was invited, two agents who decided to tie the knot. During the first few hours, Steve was doing just fine. It wasn’t until a young girl, about five or six years old, asked him if he’d dance with her. Naturally, he agreed.

„Thank you for dancing with me Mr. America.“ the girl smiled up at him, two front teeth missing.

„Not a problem sweetheart,“ he managed to suppress a small laugh, „was my pleasure.“ And that would’ve been the end of it, but then the girl had to ask him why he wasn’t dancing with his wife.

,,You know once the war is over I’m gonna marry you, right?“ startled, she looked up from buttering her toast. ,,Oh?“

Their breakfasts together had always been sacred, and though becoming Captain America had made him a busy man in the past few months, he’d always managed to set aside some time just for her.

Smiling at her reaction, he gave her a nod,

,,Gonna make you mine, officially. Then you’ll never be able to get away from me.“.

She looked down at her plate again. ,,Why would I ever try to get away from you?“ she paused, ,,Wouldn’t really make any sense.“

,,Oh you wouldn’t, but I still have to make sure. S‘why I got a ring. I’m only waiting till times are right.“ This time she looked up again, the motion so quick there were now spots dancing in front of her eyes.

,,You’re serious Stevie? You want to marry me? You bought a ring?“ now it was his turn to be shocked. „Course I want to marry you, dove. I hid it really well, and as soon as this is all over, m'gonna get on one knee, and then I’ll ask you.''

She seemed content at that. A smug smile finding its way to her lips. „Didn’t you ruin the surprise now?“

„Once I do it, you’re not gonna know it though.“ he assured before pulling her chair closer to him by it‘s leg. „You know there’s no one else for me, you gotta know by now how much I love you.“ he paused, stealing a bite of her toast. „Why were you so shocked about me wanting to marry you?“

After a few seconds she looked into his eyes ,,I think sometimes I convince myself that you’re too good to be true, and I’m always kind of waiting for something to pull the rug out from underneath me. I just feel really lucky that you love me back, Stevie.“ and as if she hadn’t just declared her love for him in ways he’d never allowed himself to dream, she took her slice back and bit into it.

He pulled her out of her chair and on his lap so quick, she couldn’t even be startled. ,,You are so perfect, dovey. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to make the universe think I deserve you, but I thank it every single minute for deciding to make it rain that day.“ and because she could never let him have the last word, she whispered into his ear „I do too, and you know I hate rain.“

,,Dancing with you was more than enough for me, sweetheart.“ he simply let the girl know, exchanging a small wave before she returned to her mother.

🕊️

„I think that maybe you’re not sure who you are at the moment, and that’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, and ever since you’ve been out of the ice you’ve had to take on this role. But that’s not who your were before, is it?“ Natasha asked him once while they were on the run.

Truthfully, Steve had spent just enough time with himself to figure out what was wrong with him. A therapist he’d once spoken with, told him he’d eventually figure out how to move on and accommodate to this new world he was in. But Steve knew that there was no other side of the rainbow for him. Saving Bucky had been a priority, but now there was no reason for him to wake up in the morning. There would always be another fight, and the part of Steve that „could do this all day“ was slowly fading away.

He was tired. He spent most days longing for the past, back when he had known who he was.

„Are you going to be different now, Stevie?“ he chuckled underneath his breath, caressing her soft legs underneath the thick blankets.

„Of course I’m going to be different, dove. That’s why I did all this.“ he could feel her lightly tense in his hold. Supporting herself on his broad chest, which she still had to get used to, she sat up.

„No, I mean with me. There’s going to be women lining up to be with you. I’m just not sure I’ll be able to keep up.“ unfortunately, he failed to see the tears already forming in her eyes.

„What? Do you think I’m with you because I couldn’t get anyone else?“ he moved away from her, unaware of her own insecurities. ,,You think now that I have options I’m going to leave you?“

„No, I meant, -I just“ „What? Me telling you I love you every single day, that’s not enough? God I don’t get you sometimes-“ interrupted by her soft whimpering, as she cried into her hands, he immediately came to sit back next to her. „Hey, hey, no baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. C‘mere.“ he pulled her into his arms again. Pressing kisses to her shoulder, he whispered ,,I’m sorry dovey, don’t cry, please.“

After a while of him cooing lovingly into her ear, she was finally able to calm down.

„You’ve always been enough for me, Steve. I didn’t mean to imply that you’d just leave me. But there’s so many great girls out there that will get to see how great you are now, and I’m scared you’ll change. You won’t be my Stevie anymore.“

In his life, Steve would face a lot of uncertainties; who he could trust, what the right thing was, where life was leading him. But there was one thing, that had been certain throughout all of that.

„I’m always going to be your Stevie.“

🕊️

When he was around five years old, Steve’s father had smacked him so hard, blood was coming out of his ear. His mother immediately consoled him, telling him to never give his father backtalk again, preventing other incidents like that to happen.

Looking back, Steve was able to trace almost everything in his life back to that one moment. He was never able to stick up to his father without putting his mother at risk, so he let it be.

But as he got older, he would do anything to prove a point, making sure he’d never feel insignificant again. That attitude had eventually led him to fly straight into the water.

He remembered regret. A picture of his Dove in front of him, reminding him of what he could, what he should come home to. But it was regret, because he already decided, because that’s who he was. Peggy’s words, asking him to reconsider, had seemed so hopeful, but hope could only ever do so much.

The next time he’d talk to Peggy, would be seventy years later.

,,Did you tell her, that I would’ve wanted her to move on?“ he asked during one of his visits.

„When we were young, Steve, all the time. I even found a great man, years after you were gone. I had to convince her for weeks to go out with him, eventually, she agreed if I came with her.“ her eyes crinkled with a small smile, ,,she spent the entire night talking about you, and after he left, she cried into my arms because she felt that she betrayed you.“

„I never would’ve wanted her to feel like that.“ Steve confessed, honestly. But he understood, because there was no one else for him either.

,,I know that, Steve. But one day, I really looked at that photo of the two of you, you know? The one in the photobooth. She was so at peace, so happy. I realised she could only look like that with you. And then I understood that she didn’t need more time, she only needed you.“

Fighting hard to keep the tears threatening to escape his waterline inside, Peggy added „She was never alone, though. I’ve always included her in everything I did. We made a lot of friends too, she was happy a lot. But she was missing a part of herself, and that was you.“

And the only thing on his mind was how he hadn’t been able to receive her on the other side.

🕊️

After the snap, Steve found himself once again surrounded by loss. Losing Bucky a second time, caused him to lose all hope. It was like he was fighting in vain. And even though he’d never known how to deal with someone’s passing, it used to be easier. Things used to be more certain.

,,I feel like I'm burdening you.'' he told her one night, after they’d already turned the lights off. It wasn’t anything she did, in fact, she was the only thing keeping him together at all. Her holding him and whispering into his ear that things would be okay, were at times his only solace.

But there was a sadness that wasn’t there before, and everyday he felt like he took her down with him.

„You’re not, Stevie, I promise. You’re hurting, and that’s normal, he’s your brother. I know it seems like there’s only darkness surrounding you, but I promise you, it will get better. We’ll always miss him, but we’ll be alright, promise.“

Cupping her face in his hands, he was sure; she’d never know just how much he loved her.

🕊️

Gloomy. It was a word he’d never used, because it caused an unsettling feeling. During the war, whenever someone described it as feeling gloomy, he’d stop listening. It never felt quite right. Body’s surrounding them made them feel nauseous, but they were always hopeful. Hopeful, never gloomy. But as he watch the world burn now, humanity having lost all hope over the last five years he was sure of it, this was gloomy.

He didn’t know what it was this time, what made him keep fighting when it was so definite. He was alone. It felt right, in a way, like he’d always known it would eventually end like this. Of course, years ago he pictured himself beaten in some dark alley, but this was supposed to happen.

He accepted that happiness was not meant for him. And so he was ready. One last fight.

„On your left.“

,,You need to promise me that you’ll make it back to me. You have to.“ ringing in his ears, because how could he promise something like that?

„Dovey, I’ll try everything-“ she interrupted him, sobbing, „you don’t try, you come back to me! You just do.“

She was pleading with him, and he understood. Because he understood that she felt the same way about him, as he did about her. But this was the only chance, and he would do whatever was needed of him to help end the war.

And then he really looked at her, and he also understood that making this promise, was something she needed. And so he gave it to her.

During that night, she wouldn’t close her eyes for one second. She watched him sleep, and helped him get ready in the morning. The memory of her waving at him while the car was slowly driving away, would haunt him for the next years of his life. The look in her eyes; hopefulness. Trying to hold onto his promise, and then; acceptance. Like she’d known.

That look of acceptance would encounter him once more, only this time it would be Bucky. They shared no words about it, but Bucky never needed words to be able to read his best friend.

„But you’re keeping the outfit, right?“

,,You know what? It’s kinda growing on me.“

Bucky chuckled in response, looking up just in time to notice his friend smiling at the girl who had him wrapped around her finger.

„So I leave for a few months and you turn into Clark Gable, huh?“ he joked.

Steve was fixated though. Watching as his girl danced around with Peggy, laughing and carefree, the way he always wanted her to be.

„You tell her you love her yet?“ Bucky questioned, knowingly.

The smile on his face gave away an answer before he did.

„Yeah. She loves me too, you know? I got real lucky, Buck.“

Before Bucky had the chance to reply, she was stumbling towards their booth.

„Peggy‘s talking to some guy, he’s real cute.“ she explained, sitting down. Grinning slightly at her slurred words, Steve pulled her to his side. „What, you think he’s cute, dovey?“ mock offense decorated his words, which she couldn’t detect in her current state.

„Noo, I meant for her, Stevie! I don’t find him cute, promise.“ she clarified, placing a kiss on his cheek.

„You’re sure? Because that’s really what it sounded like.“ he continued his little game, only ending it once a whiny „Steviee.“ met his ears. ,,Okay baby, s’alright. I believe you.“ he promised, kissing her hair.

„Alright, I’m going over to the guys. Have fun.“ Bucky teased, knowing fully that they were too caught up to hear a word he said.

So he walked away, not being spared one more „Love you soo much, Stevie.“

He really did get lucky.

,,Don't do anything stupid until I get back.''

,,How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you.''

And as they hugged goodbye, Steve felt it. They were going to be okay.

🕊️

„One day, I want us to have a porch swing.“ he told her one night, as they were lying underneath the stars, her head lying on his chest.

„A porch swing for our apartment? That’s a nice touch.“ she joked.

He grabbed her shoulders, and rolled them over so he was now on top of her, forearms supporting him.

„I told you I’m going to marry you, dove. That comes with the house, the dog and the porch swing.“ he explained, leaning down slightly to peck her lips.

The memory, which now seemed a lifetime ago, brought him comfort as he walked up to the house she moved into after the war.

„Tell me what else it comes with?“ he started kissing her neck, „A garden, the biggest you’ve ever seen. Flowers everywhere. My last name, if you want it.“

At the door, the sign reading ROGERS in golden letters pulled at his heartstrings.

„Want everything, Stevie. With you.“

A knock, then a few seconds pass, and the door opens.

Your sister Aria, as clueless as she was, told your story: you hadn’t been with a man in a long time. Last night was just dumb luck for Steve, and physical need for you.

Being forced to stay in a space with such close quarters presented him the opportunity to get close to you, but it was disconcerting. He didn’t expect to be able to touch and kiss your most intimate places last night, but giving you pleasure was everything he’d dreamed of and more.

After putting you right to sleep, Steve felt a sense of accomplishment. But as he held you, he felt like a fraud, and soon escaped to go for a run on the beach to clear his head and calm his body.

Steve wanted nothing more than to give you more of the physical, which you clearly wanted. But what you needed was the truth. What he needed was your heart.

He looked down at his watch when he got a notification that Bucky had texted and planned to escape to the room, but when he looked back up, he was caught.

——

After you awoke in bed alone, you got out of bed and showered, frustrated. And why wouldn't you be?

Steve gave you the best head of your life last night, didn’t let you return the favor, and then ghosted you. You looked in the mirror and tried to figure out if your pussy was broken or something.

At least Jake appreciated it.

You nodded as you tried to convince yourself that a hunk of latex was sentient.

Aria texted you that she and Topher were staying in their suite today, and to reschedule the yacht ride. Your troubles were forgotten as you once again tried to move heaven and earth for your darling little superstar sister.

Aria’s change of plans, despite being a pain in the ass, was a definite plus. You could spend the day exploring this beautiful town on your own.

You sat on the terrace solo, after trying in vain to obtain another room in the sold out resort. You were torn between pettiness and being a simp for Steve Rogers. The sound of the ocean sent your mind drifting back to the night before, how good Steve’s hands and mouth felt on you. You shivered, and you felt the hair raise on the back of your neck.

You looked around, and finally, behind you, to catch Steve’s eyes, as blue as the Gulf, watching you. You gulped, and before you could stop yourself, waved him over. You saw him blanch, hesitate, but come over. You frowned.

He clearly couldn’t stand you, but you were going to set the record straight.

You weren't going to spend this whole week on pins and needles with him.

No way.

—--

Steve approached you hesitantly, squaring his shoulders to combat his nerves. He stood before you in military posture, hands behind his back. When you looked him up and down and raised your eyebrow, almost ready for anything, he couldn’t help the smile that began to form on his face.

You were trouble.

You watched Steve approach and your stomach did a somersault. Damn, he was fine. The sweat at the collar of his t-shirt, which was hanging on to his torso for dear life, was some kind of powerful magic. Your panties were about as damp. And when he stopped in front of you, perfect posture, cock so close, well, it took serious willpower to not get down on your knees in front of all these people.

You looked up at his sexy smirk. Damn him. You needed to know what was up.

“Morning, y/n. Did you sleep well?”

You crossed your legs, making his eyes follow the motion, and it was then that he gulped, fantasizing about reaching down and grabbing you up to take you back to bed.

“I slept very well, Steve, but did not wake up that way? Please, sit down. We need to talk.”

The words tumbled out before you had a chance to think, and you frowned.

Steve watched your face as he took a seat. You were not happy. And it was never a good thing when someone said that phrase. He had a feeling he knew exactly the way this conversation was going to go.

“I know what you are going to say, last night was a mistake. And I agree with you.”

“Oh?”

You exhaled as you sat back in your seat. That is not what you were going to say at all, but you were glad that Steve was coming out with what he really felt.

“We were caught up in the moment, jet lag, emotional…and I… I took advantage of that. I’m sorry.”

Steve looked up at the waiter who’d appeared and ordered water. You sipped your mimosa as you watched him, the red creeping up from his neck to his face, his cheeks flushed.

He was being genuine.

And sweet.

Being in the entertainment industry as long as you had, you learned to read people quickly.

“Taking advantage of me would entail making me suck your cock like I wanted to, Captain Rogers. Not you eating me out like a pro. I feel like I took advantage of you?”

Steve’s eyes got wide as he gulped down his water. He coughed.

You watched that tongue dart out and lick those ruby red lips after he caught his breath. Whew, that side smile. You began to take this as a challenge. Steve’s words didn’t match his actions right now, and you were determined to find out why.

His deep voice gave you a clue.

“‘D’you like that?”

The way Steve was looking at you right now was everything. You smiled and leaned forward, noticing how his eyes went to your cleavage. The way his pupils were blown told you more.

You were beginning to change your mind about how Steve Rogers felt about you. He at least wanted your body. You had power.

“Yes, Captain.”

Steve almost moaned. The way you looked, your sultry tone, the fact that you said ‘making you suck his cock.’ He cleared his throat as your words raced around his brain. ‘…like you wanted to…, Captain…’

Fuck, he was screwed.

He straightened up.

“I mean… that wasn’t cool…”

You straightened up as well, jutting your breasts out as if an invitation. Steve shifted in his seat. You were making things hard for him.

“No. No it wasn’t…”

You pouted, thinking of the way he left you hanging.

“Fix that face, y/n.”

Holy hell. That command. He did want you to hit the ground right there. But you had to push back.

“Hmmmm. I guess I’m supposed to say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ Or you’ll spank me like you promised…”

You smiled at him mischievously.

You were such a brat. You had to be stopped. Before he lost control again.

“I didn’t promise that, y/n…”

Steve’s voice was broken and he licked his lips before taking another drink of water.

“Oh? I thought you said that?”

You twirled your finger around the rim of your glass and then dipped two into your drink, placing them into your mouth and slowly pulling them out of those lips. Steve licked his in response

Steve knew what you were doing, but it was long past time to turn back now. Blood was rapidly leading his brain. He grunted unconsciously, determined to stay in control.

“I’m not doing this with you. I need to take a shower.”

Steve got up and stalked toward the elevators, and you sat, steaming, in your seat. You were shaking with emotion. You realized the true source of your frustration. You wanted Steve, you were sharing a room, and you were in a beautiful setting. You didn’t have to be a love match, but why not go for it?

You called the waiter over and asked him to charge your breakfast to the account.

~~~~~~~

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Steve wanted to pry them open to run back out to you. But space was the best answer right now. You were amping him up to do something reckless, something that would be irreversible. It was best that he kept his distance.

He entered the room and took off his shirt, going to the bathroom to turn on the water. He shook his head as he thought of you. You were such a menace.

When he turned around, there you were.

The look on Steve’s face was a little scary. You didn’t know if he was angry… or something else.

“....I need to get my…” Your eyes searched the bathroom. “...my lipgloss…”

You walked closer to him then turned toward the vanity and picked up a tube of your Glossbomb, leaning over toward the mirror, smearing a slick shiny across those lips.

Steve’s resolve began to crumble as he inhaled your scent and watched your lips shine. Your words came back to him. He wanted that mouth of yours.

You turned around.

“You didn’t answer my question, Captain.”

“What question was that, Doll?”

Steve moved closer to you, backing you up against the vanity. Your heart beat faster, but you pressed on.

“About the spanking…”

You felt dumb, but in a good way as Steve stared at you, seeing right through you. And then he smirked. He looked you up and down as he leaned forward and caged you in, hands on either side of you on the sink. Steam filled the room and came out of your ears.

“What I said was that I wanted to spank you when you were giving me attitude on the plane. Seems that was warranted. You don’t know when to stop.”

Steve’s voice broke as his breath fanned across your face. His mouth was so, so close to yours.

You sighed, and pouted again.

“I never stop, Captain. So does that make me a bad girl? I thought I was a good girl? It’s what you said last night.”

“I said that was a mistake.”

“What happened last night was a mistake, or saying that I’m a good girl?”

You were quick to reply as you cocked your head at him.

“Y’know, I wasn’t going to say that it was a mistake earlier. You put words in my mouth. That’s not what I want there…”

Steve slid his hand up your arm to your throat, and closed his fingers around it. It was nothing, almost, but enough to show you his power. You whimpered in his grip.

“You are maddening, you know that? You should leave well enough alone…”

You looked him in the eyes. You felt his hard cock against your stomach, even felt it jump as he searched your face and settled on your lips. You decided to try it.

“Let me go, and I’ll leave it alone… Don’t, and well, you can teach me how to be good again…”

Steve’s mind said to let you go, but it was his cock and his heart that made him do what he did next.

He whispered as he moved toward you, brushing the line of your jaw with his fingers. Your head was reeling from the sexy tone as you realized that he’d said, “Teach you a lesson…”

His lips slammed into yours, and his hands roamed your body, laying claim to what he wanted. You moaned as his tongue decimated you, letting him take what he wanted. When you separated, he asked you a question.

“What do you want in your mouth, y/n?”

“I want your cock in my mouth, Captain.”

“That sounds… “

Steve rested his forehead against yours. Your words gave him the image, and he couldn't resist. He cleared his throat again, then his blue eyes captured yours. Steel.

“Go sit on the edge of the bed…”

“Yes, Sir.”

The way he clenched his jaw had your pussy doing the same as you practically skipped to the next room and did as you were told. He was standing right in front of you again, running his palm down his hardness outside of his sweats. Your heart beat with anticipation.

You whined when he reached inside his sweats and pulled it out. It looked so big, so hard, the peach mushroom tip weeping and pretty, but big. You looked up at him with wide eyes.

The way you suddenly looked scared made Steve get even harder.

“You sure this is what you want?”

He was stroking his cock, and using his thumb to lubricate himself. He was restraining himself from touching you, but you didn’t know that, all that you saw was the sexy veins bulging down his arms as he jacked it in front of you.

“Y-yes…”

You reached for it and Steve moved closer, moaning when your small, cool hand closed around his hot throbbing staff. When you started pumping him was when his head started swimming.

“God, Doll…”

Your mouth fell open, those glossy lips a magnet for his cock. He didn’t know if you were leaning towards him, or if he were moving closer to you, but none of that mattered when your lips and tongue made contact.

He hissed at the sensation.

“SSsssss, y/n,”

He looked down at you as you stared up at him. You were entranced, his smell of musk and sweat was intoxicating.

“Those eyes. That mouth. Open. Wider.”

He had a grip on your chin, firmly pulling your jaw down to accommodate him.

As you kept eye contact, you saw a ferality that made you shiver. You wanted that look on you forever. You tried to unhinge your jaw as Steve slid his smooth cock inside your mouth.

He stopped once your mouth was full, but you continued, allowing his access to your throat.

“Ohhhhh. So goood...”

Chris pulled out of your mouth and stuck two fingers in, watching as you licked and sucked them, pumping his wet cock with your hand.

“That mouth. You’re not giving me any sass now, are you?”

He held your chin again and looked you in the eye, lighty slapping your jaw.

You gasped, then smiled and shook your head as you eagerly sucked along the side of his dick.

“No, Sir,” you replied, your mouth full of Steve.

You stuck your tongue out and deep throated him bobbing slowly as you pumped him with your hand.

“Go ahead. Get sloppy with it.”

You spit on his dick as you went to town, going faster when Steve gathered your hair in his hand and moved you at his preferred pace.

“Look at me when you do that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, thighs clenching at his tone.

“Look at you. Are you a slut for this cock already?”

You pulled off with a plop to spit again.

“Yes, Captain.”

And you started glugging him, moving your hand and making Steve’s knees weak.

“Holy Fuck, that’s good. Yessss.”

You smiled at the praise and started jacking him against your outstretched tongue.

“Yes, yes, yessss. Suck the tip again. That fucking mouth.”

You did as you were told, taking him inside and jacking what didn’t fit.

Steve started moaning and pulled your hair so that you looked up at him.

“Stop if you don’t want my cum in your mouth.”

You jacked him even faster.

“I want it, Captain..”

You slapped his cock against your lips and then resumed sucking as Steve grunted and buried his fingers in your hair.

“So… fucking… good… good girl…fuckkk! I’m cumming. Dirty girl. That mouth is so damn good.”

Steve was full of contradictory praise as he held his balls and you jacked his cock fast, allowing your mouth to make the most pornographic sounds around him.

“Oh! Oh shit ohshit oooooh oooohh shitttttt!”

You slowed down when you felt the first spurt against your tongue and you let it fall out of your mouth. Steve was hypnotized as he took his cock and pumped it into your mouth as you swallowed.

“What a dirty little girl. Good girl gone bad. You love this, don’t you?”

You nodded as you swallowed, your eyes tearing as the cum squirted into your throat.

“Fuuuuuucckkkk.”

Steve was profane as he watched you swallow it all and clean him up.

“That was amazing, Doll. Thank you.”

He reached down and traced your swollen lips with his thumb. He knew what you wanted, what you needed next. But there was really no turning back from that.

“I think we’re even now. I’m going to go take that shower.”

Steve turned and went back into the bathroom, leaving you to wonder which was greater, your need or your pride.

———

"Guys, Captain wants you in the cabin," Troy calls out as he sticks his head into the room. "Both of you."

You and Katreen share a look before following Troy out to the cabin, where the rest of the team awaits. There's only six agents in total with Steve supposedly in charge for today, as it's just a quick intel mission.

Steve's eyes linger on you as the three of you walk in, a less than happy look on his face. Once you're all in the room, he clears his throat. "Right, now that everyone's been gracious enough to bless us with their presence," He begins, shooting you a passive aggressive look, "Let's talk through how today's gonna go. Now, I know before we left, we agreed on splitting up into pairs to cover each exit of Fauldi's facility, but after some more thought, I've decided that's not the best course of action."

Katreen squeezes your hand, knowing you'll be royally pissed off at his words. Unable to bite your tongue, you step forward, ignoring Katreen's whispered warnings. "I don't think that's the best idea, Rogers," You state bluntly.

He raises a brow as though he's surprised you have a problem with him bulldozing your suggestion which Fury himself agreed to. "Is that so? Well, thanks for letting me know, Agent," He says with false politeness. "I encourage everyone to speak their minds. But I've made my decision."

"Splitting up is our best bet to remain undetected for as long as possible, and maybe even the whole mission. We could be in and out if we go stealth, without Fauldi ever knowing we were there," You say, frustrated that you have to repeat yourself after this morning. "If we go in together, we run the risk of being cornered."

"They're not expecting us," Steve tells you firmly, and you can sense the anger bubbling in him. "We can overpower them with the element of surprise on our side."

"Fuck surprise," You spit harshly, making Troy's eyes widen. "What if there's a hundred of them? We're a team of 7, Rogers, and we're not all invincible like you."

He clenches his jaw and steps closer to you. "Listen to me, Agent-"

"No, you listen to me," You cut him off, sick of his shit and not caring if he gets you kicked off the team and stripped of your job. "The goal of today's mission is to gather intelligence. We're not there to kill Fauldi, we're there to find out what his plan is. We run the risk of starting an unnecessary war while losing our lives if we go in all guns blazing. If we split up, we can silently get the job done."

Steve's eyes darken, and he takes another step towards you, opening his mouth in preparation to argue back when suddenly, the jet turns on its side, sending everyone flying to the left. You clash with a seat, making you cry out in pain as it digs into your chest.

"We've been hit!" Someone yells, and it's the last coherent sentence you hear before your ears start ringing. Smoke fills the air and your stomach clenches as the jet begins to rapidly drop, making you nauseous.

You try to scream Katreen's name but you aren't sure if the word leaves your mouth. Your chest heaves and with another jolt, you're sent flying to the other side of the cabin where your head hits something hard just before you black out.

Your eyes are shut but you can hear waves crashing against the shore. A soft breeze blows through your hair and eventually, the sensation of sand pressing into your cheeks causes you to jolt upwards. Your eyes open wide and you gasp in a breath, looking around at the beach you seem to be lying on. Not a single soul in sight, you stand up, wincing as pain shoots through your right leg. Looking you down, you see a dry trail of darkened blood from your thigh to your ankle through the large rip in your pants.

Terrified, you breathe quickly, on the verge of a panic attack when you look out to the sea.

"Oh, my God," You whisper when you see it. The jet, split into two, floating about a mile out from shore along with pieces of debris. A few items seem to have washed up onto the beach, including some jackets and shoes. Your chest tightens at the implication that you're utterly alone out here, and just as you prepare to scream, you hear it. Another voice.

"You're alive?"

Spinning around, you see Steve walking out from the trees. There's a healed cut on his head and his clothes are in tatters, just like yours.

He lets out a scoff before uttering, "Of course you're the only other one that survives..."

His words make your heart clench. "No," You say, shaking your head. "We need to find the others. They're- they could have landed on the other side of the island."

"They're dead, Y/N," Steve states sternly, unable to meet your eyes. "All of them."

"No!" You yell, refusing to accept it as you turn back out to sea. "They could still be with the jet - Katreen. Katreen's a good swimmer, she'll be here in a few minutes. Just watch."

"It's been three hours," He tells you lowly.

You take a step backwards, not wanting to believe it. Staring out to the sea, to the jet's debris, you process things for a few moments. Process the fact that you'll never hear Katreen's brilliant laugh again, or learn a new complicated card game from Troy, or even get to give them a proper burial like they deserve.

Without a speck of energy or hope left in you, you fall to your knees and burst into heavy sobs. Steve sighs and turns back into the forest, leaving you there to mourn alone.

"Fuck!" You hiss as you rub the sticks together. You've spent all day trying to start a fire, to no avail.

You're not sure what time it is. After crying yourself to sleep last night, you woke up with the sun blaring down on you. When you remembered where you were and what had happened, you saw that the debris from the jet had been washed up onto the shore. None of the bodies had been, though, which was bittersweet. On one hand, you would've liked to give your colleagues and friends a proper burial, but on the other hand, you aren't sure how you'd react to seeing their cold, bloated corpses lying next to you.

You haven't seen Steve all day, and part of you thinks he found some way to escape and left you to rot on this island. It wouldn't be a surprise. Your mouth is insanely dry and you're starving, but you're hoping Fury's able to track down the jet's black box and find you as soon as possible.

Around an hour ago, you ventured into the forest to see if Steve might be there, but the second you saw a spider bigger than your head, you immediately spun around and returned to the beach. And now, you sit facing the water, pathetically rubbing two sticks together in an attempt to build a fire so you aren't as cold as you were last night.

The sun's starting to set, and there hasn't been a single aircraft pass overhead all day. Just as you're accepting that your fate is to die of starvation on this island, you hear footsteps in the sand behind you.

"The fuck are you doing?"

You drop the sticks, utterly giving up. "Nothing," You say, but your voice is croaky and barely audible.

"Jesus. Have you not had any water today?" Steve asks as he comes to sit next to you, handing you a canteen.

Immediately, you take it from him and guzzle down as much water as you can, and it tastes better than anything you've ever had before. Once you've had your fill, you look over at him with an incredulous look on your face. "Where have you been?" You ask him with a much clearer voice.

"It's much safer in the forest," He claims. "Especially during the day. You won't die of sun stroke under the trees."

"But nobody will see us in there," You point out with a frown. "Someone from HQ could fly straight over us and wouldn't know we're here."

He sighs, looking up. "Could you ever just do as I fucking say for once, or are you incapable of obeying orders?"

You scoff at his question. "Obeying orders? I'm trying to save our fucking lives, Rogers, this isn't about your orders," You spit, before standing up and looking around. "We should gather some rocks. Write a message in the sand for when they fly over."

"Nobody is going to fly over, Agent-"

"They'll track the black box," You tell him sternly.

Steve stands up, a look of exhaustion on his features. "It's been destroyed. I've checked."

Faltering a little, you step back and think again. "Well, they would've been tracking our journey. They'll know exactly where we were when we got shot down, and they'll know this is where we crashed."

"If that's true, then they'll come find us," He says. "There's no point killing ourselves out here before that happens."

"I don't know about you, Rogers, but I'm not just gonna give up," You say stubbornly. "I'm not just gonna-" You stop mid-sentence when you suddenly feel dizzy, and you sway sightly before gathering yourself.

"You need food. And shelter," He says, grabbing your arm and dragging you into the forest. "And you're already burnt. There are aloe plants in the forest, and I've built a hut."

You try to pull out of his grip but you have no energy to fight anymore. He takes you past the trees and through to a clearing where his admittedly impressive hut is. There's a small fire just outside it, and what looks like some sort of meat on twig skewers cooking.

"What is that?" You ask him, realizing just how hungry you are as your stomach gurgles.

He sit you down on the ground before reaching out to pick up one of the skewers and reaching it out to you. "Just eat it," He says lowly, waiting for you to take it before grabbing the other skewer for himself.

Deciding that it's probably best you don't know what it is, you hesitantly take a small bite. It's a little tough, but the smokiness helps you look past the texture.

"I've had a quick look around this place," Steve tells you. "There are coconut trees, and bananas. Berries too, but I don't know if they're poisonous yet, so steer clear of them."

Swallowing your bite, you nod.

"I reckon we're around 100 miles away from land. Land that isn't this island, anyway," He informs you. "For now, we just need to focus on figuring out what the risks are and staying alive."

"How about we focus on getting the fuck out of here, instead?" You ask him bitterly. "The rest of the jet washed up. We can make a boat-"

"Make a boat out of a destroyed jet?" He asks incredulously.

Narrowing your eyes, you lower your skewer and say, "What the fuck is your problem? It's like you've already given up. Do you have no sense of self-preservation? No will to live? To go home?"

Steve looks at you blankly while chewing. Once he swallows, he replies, "I'm being realistic. I know the notion may seem alien to you, but it's our best chance at survival."

"How?" You ask him with disbelief. "You aren't even trying. You've already built yourself a fucking house as though you're planning on staying here forever. Do you not even want to try to make a boat? I've watched Lost, we can do it."

"I've watched Lost too," He retorts sternly. "And a lot of them die. You know why? Because they had no fucking idea what was going on at that island. There's only two of us left, and if one of us dies, the other will follow soon after, too. We need to find out as much as we can about this place-"

"This isn't a fucking TV show, there isn't gonna be a smoke monster trying to kill us," You point out angrily.

Steve's nostrils flare as he clenches his fist. "You ever heard of snakes? Or how about spiders?" He asks you sarcastically. "And how about the millions of other bugs and animals that neither of us have heard of that could bite you and have you dead within minutes? Tell me, do you know what color snakes have a venomous bite, or if those leaves you're sitting on aren't covered in fucking acid?"

"Which is exactly why I didn't wanna set foot in this fucking forest," You tell him with a glare. "What's a bit of sunburn next to acid leaves? You're Captain fucking America; with those arms, it'd take you about 5 minutes to build a boat and sail us the fuck out of here."

"And what about when you're hungry?" He asks you. "What about when we're in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by sharks, and you want a snack?" With furrowed brows, he adds, "What about when you start your fucking period? They cover that on Lost?"

"Don't-" You stop mid-sentence as you process his words, your heart racing. "Oh, my God," You mutter, terrified at the thought of it. Standing up, you shake your head. "We have to get out of here, Steve. We have to!"

He stands up too and grabs your arms. "Calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" You exclaim. "We're stranded on a desert island eating mystery meat and I'm due to start my period in like, a week! What if there's some kind of bloodthirsty beast on this island? I need to go home, Rogers, please!"

"Just breathe, Y/N," He says firmly, staring into your eyes. "It'll be okay. I'm gonna figure out a plan, alright?"

"You promise?" You ask, hating how pathetic you sound but unable to stop yourself.

He rolls his eyes at your childish request. "Trust me, Agent, there are a million places I'd rather be than stuck here with you," He tells you bluntly, letting go of your arms. "I'm gonna do everything I can to get us home. Just give me a couple of days to figure shit out, and figure this island out. Can you give me that?"

Lowering your tensed shoulders, you let out a sigh and nod. "Yeah. Yes, I can do that," You reply.

"Thank you," He says, rubbing his forehead. A few moments of silence pass by before he looks you up and down. "You hurt?"

You take a few seconds to think about it before shaking your head. Besides the headache and general soreness you doubt he'll be able to fix, you don't seem to be terribly injured. "No. I'm good," You tell him.

"Good," He says, before looking down at the ground. "And, uh, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. About Katreen, and the others. They were great people."

The mention of her name makes your heart ache and you blink away the tears that immediately spring into your eye. "Thanks, Rogers," You breathe out. "I appreciate that."

He looks at the hut before turning back to you. "Finish your food then get inside and get some rest," He tells you. "I'm gonna do another lap around the forest, see if I find anything interesting."

"I wanna come with you," You say stubbornly.

"Can you ever just agree with me? For once?" He asks with a frustrated look.

"Can you ever take me seriously as an Agent?" You retort, neither of you expecting the question to leave your mouth, but now that you've said it, you can no longer hold back. "Ever since I joined the team, you've had some sort of grudge against me. None of my ideas are ever good enough, I'm never ready to take you on in training, and you've never once told me I've done a good job after a mission- not even after Singapore last year, when I literally saved your life. Just a simple thank-you or even a fucking nod in my direction to acknowledge that I have some value. Just an inch of respect is all I ask for."

"You wanna talk about respect?" He shoots back with a dry laugh. "I am your senior, your Captain, and you have never treated me with respect. You've always got something to prove, and you can never just admit defeat."

"You can never admit that a woman has better ideas than you!" You yell.

"What the fuck does you being a woman have to do with anything?" He yells back, his cheeks reddening.

"It has everything to do with everything!" You argue, storming over to him. "You may have been born in the 40s, but you don't live in them anymore."

Taken aback, Steve frowns. "Y/N, what are you talking about?" He asks, sounding more confused than angry. "The fact that you're a woman isn't what annoys me so much about you."

"Then what does?" You ask him. "Why don't you ever roll your eyes at Troy when he comes up with an idea? Why don't you ever scoff in Nick Fury's face when he tells you to do something differently to the way you wanna do it?"

"I don't hate your ideas, and I sure as fuck know how to follow an order," He counters gravely.

"So why do you hate me?" You ask, at the end of your tether.

"I hate how fucking reckless you are!" He admits fiercely. "I hate how you don't think twice about putting yourself in danger for the others - and for me! Why the fuck would you risk your life for mine?"

"That's my job!" You declare wildly. "You just can't handle the fact that you need the help of a woman!"

"No, I can't handle the thought you getting hurt for me!" He snaps back at you, causing your mouth to clamp shut in shock before he continues his rant. "I can't handle the fact that you don't think about how easily you could get killed on the field - and not because you're a woman, but because you're a human. A human being who doesn't have a serum running through her blood to make sure you can heal and withstand more damage than the average person. You are strong, and you are smart, but you're mortal. So just let me take the fall, for once."

Speechless, you say nothing.

He lets out a sigh, stepping back as he lowers his voice to say, "Finish your food and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

With that, Steve grabs the rest of his meat skewer before walking off into the trees, leaving you there to play his words on repeat in your head.

The next morning you wake up feeling better than you did the morning before.

With a semi-full stomach last night, you were able to get a decent sleep, though you had an onslaught of nightmares about the crash. When you woke up, you realized how uncomfortable your tactical outfit is when you wear it for more than a day, so you took it off and did your best to rip the material into a makeshift bikini top. A few large palm leaves were easily fashioned into a skirt, allowing your legs to breathe.

After a dip in the sea, you return to the forest to see that Steve still isn't back. You're not sure where he slept last night, but you don't remember hearing or seeing him since he walked off from you. Hungry for breakfast, and not yet willing to kill whatever animal it was you ate last night, you decide to look for Steve.

You spend a few minutes walking through the trees, swatting away flies, before you come across something that makes your stomach drop.

Five large lumps in the soil are spread out in front of you, each marked with a long stick with names carved into them. The one closest to you reads Troy Wence.

"You're up."

With a jump, you turn around to see Steve. "Fuck. You scared me," You whisper before frowning. "What... what is this?"

Steve looks down before sighing. "I, uh... yesterday morning, I walked out to the beach to make sure you were still there," He begins, rubbing the back of his neck. "I saw you lying there, asleep. Saw the jet had been washed up. And I saw their bodies lying next to you."

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes widen.

"I didn't... I couldn't let you wake up to that," He says, shaking his head. "Moved them as quietly as I could, and buried them."

Horrified, you take a step closer to him and take his hand. "Thank you," You whisper, unable to use your voice for fear it'll break. "I... I wouldn't have ever been able to get that image out of my head."

"I know," He says with a nod.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," You say, squeezing his hand. "Doing that couldn't have been easy."

Steve shakes his head. "Much easier than letting you see them like that," He states firmly. "It's a part of war. They weren't the first friends I've ever had to bury."

You wince at his admission, shaking your head. "I'm so sorry," You mumble.

A few moments pass before he looks you up and down, fighting to stop the smirk from breaking out on his lips. "Nice outfit," He says teasingly.

"Screw you," You say with a glare, letting go of his hand. "I'm hot, and I had to make do with what I have. You should do the same; you stink."

"I do not," He counters childishly before lifting his arm up to his nose and sniffing himself. "I... I smell fine."

"I'm hungry," You tell him. "What's for breakfast?"

He gestures for you to follow him through back to the clearing, which you do. "I've gathered some things that look edible," He tells you while uncovering a basket of colorful fruit.

The two of you eat and drink water from the ravine he found, which brings a sparkle of excitement to his eye when he tells you about it.

"Next time you wash up, go there," He tells you. "The sea's too cold, especially in the morning. The ravine's safer - and there's a waterfall."

He had you at waterfall. "Take me there," You request, which he happily accepts.

The ravine is gorgeous - Steve's words didn't do it justice. The deep valley is filled with bright flowers, with butterflies and birds flying through. You place your hand in the water, gasping when you notice all the different fish swimming by. With a soft laugh, you take off your shoes and dip your feet in, shivering slightly.

"It's a lot warmer by the other end," He tells you, nodding towards the waterfall.

You're about to pull your legs out when you decide to take the plunge - literally. With a deep breath, you close your eyes before jumping into the water. The cold water takes over you, but its not as cold as the sea was this morning which you're grateful for. You swim over to the waterfall, and admittedly the water begins to feel a lot warmer.

"This is amazing!" You exclaim giddily, looking over to Steve. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"You never gave me the chance!" He calls back, smiling at you, which is an odd sight. You don't think he's ever smiled at you before, but he looks infinitely more handsome while doing so. He looks around before taking a step back and saying, "Alright, I'll leave you to it."

"Where are you going?" You ask, slightly afraid of being this far into the forest alone.

"I found the radio system from the jet and did my best to fix it up," He tells you. "I'm gonna try and get somewhere high up, see if I catch a signal."

Frowning, you swim back to the edge and push yourself up onto the grass. "I wanna come with you," You say firmly.

He lets out a sigh, his smile dropping. "We've talked about this, Y/N-"

"No, we haven't," You point out curtly. "We haven't actually spoken about what you said last night."

Resting his hands on his hips, Steve says, "What's there to talk about?"

"How about the fact that you care so much about my wellbeing?" You suggest with a raised brow. "How about the fact that you're so concerned about me?"

"I'm concerned about all of the agents I work with," He claims with a glare.

"You don't seem to hate any of them as much as you hate me," You say. "Or, sorry - hate how reckless they are with their lives."

"Because I'm not sure there is any other agent as reckless as you," He huffs, stepping closer to you.

Dripping wet from head to toe, you narrow your eyes at him and take a step closer. The waterfall is loud, but you're yelling louder. "I'm good at what I do. In fact, I'm great! Why can't you ever just admit that?" You ask him. "Why can't you just tell me I'm good?"

"If you're so great, why do you need me to tell you that?" He shoots back.

"Because I want your approval!" You scream, unable to hold back. "Every other agent has your respect. Every other agent can think of a time the great Captain America thanked them for their service, or complimented their skills. Every other agent-"

"Respects me back," He finishes coldly, rage in his eyes.

"Fuck you!" You yell.

He grabs your arm, pulling you closer. "That's what I mean - how dare you speak to me like that? I am your superior-"

"You're an asshole," You spit.

"And you're the most insufferable person I've ever had the displeasure of working with," He retorts.

"You can't handle the fact that I'm better than you without any fancy serum," You counter arrogantly.

"You can't handle the fact that I need to protect you sometimes," He shoots back, making you scoff.

"Oh, please," You say dryly. "You may be able to lift a helicopter, but that's where our differences stop."

"Oh, yeah?" He challenges. "Why don't you go ahead and walk away, then?"

Swallowing, you try to pull out of his grip to no avail. With a huff, you kick his leg, and he grabs your hips before sending you crashing to the ground and pinning you down.

"Brute force isn't a skill!" You shout bitterly.

"Neither is stupidity, and you have copious amounts of that," He says, his weight keeping you stuck beneath him.

"Fuck you!" You yell.

"How about I fuck you?" He can't help but say, causing a silence to sit between you.

A second goes by. Two. Three. And then he kisses you.

It's intense, with no romance or gentleness. He keeps you pinned to the ground as his tongue swirls around your mouth, making your hips buck up against him.

He pulls away from the kiss and uses his hand to keep your head pressed down. "Maybe what I oughta do is fuck the attitude out of you," He grumbles while ripping apart your skirt. "Maybe that'll teach you to respect me."

You gasp when you feel his calloused fingers rub against your clit, harsh and quick. It doesn't take long for you to completely soak his digits, your cunt throbbing as it begs for more.

"Rogers," You breathe out, shaking your head. "You're insane."

"Shut the fuck up," He hisses just as he pushes two of his fingers into you, making you cry out. Utterly overwhelmed, you throw your head back and let out wanton moans, unable to fight against him any longer. He fucks you with his fingers until your legs begin to shake, your core tightening.

When you feel his hard cock brushing against your thigh, you grab his shoulders, bracing yourself. You've heard the stories - you know Steve Rogers has an impressive dick, and it's been a long time since you experienced one of those.

"Gotta teach you to be obedient," He grumbles while bringing his dick to your entrance. "Teach you to show your Captain some respect. You understand me?"

He plunges into you without warning, giving you every inch he has. The pain is sharp but it's instantly taken over by pleasure, and your eyes roll back as you weakly reply, "Yes, Sir."

Steve brings his lips to your ear and smugly mutters, "That's right, you stupid slut. Take it like a good girl."

Everything flies out the window - you don't care if he's a misogynist, or if he treats you unfairly - you've betrayed your morals in this moment. All that matters is that he's inside you, and you don't think anything has ever felt better.

"This pussy was made for me," He growls as he begins to fuck into you, hard, fast. "You were made for me. Look at you, so quickly turning into a little fucktoy for me. And you think you deserve my respect?"

"Captain," You whisper between moans.

"That's right," He grumbles. "Captain. Your Captain."

"Don't stop," You whine as his cock fills you up, over and over. He brings his big hand to your throat, taking hold of your neck and sending electric shivers down your spine.

"Look at you," He utters lowly. "Already being such a good girl for me. All it took was some cock, huh? That's how much of a depraved slut you are? All I hadda do was put my cock in you to remind you of your place?"

"Yes, Sir," You reply obediently, not caring at all how pathetic you sound as a lazy grin grows on your lips. "I'm a slut."

He lets out a grunt before pulling out and roughly flipping you onto your back, moving you around like a rag doll. Steve pushes your head down while pulling your ass up, spreading your cheeks before spitting onto your hole.

"C- Captain Rogers..." You trail off, grabbing fistfuls of grass.

Suddenly, he grabs you by the hair and pulls your head up. "How many times do I have to tell you to keep your fuckin' mouth shut, huh? If you know what's good for you, you'll shut up while I use your holes, like the worthless fucktoy you are," He growls into you ear, making your pussy clench.

You've never seen this side of him - you don't think you've ever even witnessed him flirting with anyone, so to find out that his sexual side is this dark and twisted is throwing you for a loop.

Once again, he pushes your head down onto the ground before slipping his cock back into your cunt. In this position, he gets even deeper inside you, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. He uses his spit as lube for your ass, pushing his thumb into it while he fucks you.

"That's it. Gotta fill all your holes up, that's what you like, ain't it?" He asks you gruffly, spanking you hard. "Fuckin' whore, you like me playing with your ass, don't you?"

You let out loud moans against the ground, wondering if this a dream. If you'll wake up and you'll still be on the plane, or even back home. This side of him is so alien to you, and you can't help but get off on it.

He moves his free hand down to your face when he sticks his fingers into your mouth, fucking it while you gag.

"Yeah, that's it," He groans, fucking you harder. "All your holes belong to me, slut. My obedient little slut. Look at you, fuck."

Loud cries leave your mouth, muffled by his fingers. You're overwhelmed with pleasure as he fills your holes, every inch of your skin feeling like it's been set on fire.

"Show me how a whore cums," Steve orders, fucking into you faster. He takes his hand out of your mouth and brings it down to your clit, rubbing figures of eight onto it. "Prove to me that I own you. That you're gonna be a good girl for Captain Rogers."

"I'll be your good girl," You moan, feeling your climax build up.

"That's it, come on," He goads you, pressing slightly hard as he rubs your clit.

With a strangled cry, you're hit with your toe-curling orgasm, a full-body rush. Your eyes roll back and your legs shudder while you moan his name, never wanting this pleasure to end.

"That's a good girl," Steve says lowly, keeping his fingers where they are. "One more. C'mon."

"Captain, I can't," You whine, convulsing when he doesn't let up, continuing to rub your sensitive clit.

He rests his body on yours, keeping you pinned to the ground under his weight, and brings his lips to your ears. "I know you got one more in you," He whispers, thrusting sloppily in and out of you. "You can do it for me, you little slut, c'mon."

When he takes his thumb out of your ass and replaces it with two of his fingers, you suck in a sharp breath as your stomach flips. Between him stretching out your ass, filling your cunt, and calling you a slut with his gentle voice, you're utterly overwhelmed and it proves to be too much for you.

"Please, Captain, I can't," You sob as the tears stream down your face. "I can't."

"Aw, look at you," He coos teasingly as his cock slides in and out of your throbbing pussy. "You crying for me, slut? Huh? Have you finally realized that I'm your superior, that I own you?"

"Yes, Sir," You whimper in response, only wanting to make him happy. Proud. "I'm yours."

"And from now on, you're gonna listen to every word I say," He continues.

"Every word you say," You repeat like a cock-drunk robot.

"No more talking back," Steve orders.

"No- no more talking back," You swear.

"You will address me only as Captain Rogers, or Sir."

Another sob escapes your lips as your core tightens. "Yes, Sir."

"And," Steve begins fucking you harder, "Every night, I want you in this same position, waiting for me to use you. Every night, and whenever else I want you. Cheeks spread, naked, wet. Do you understand me, slut?"

"Yes, Captain Rogers," You agree obediently.

"That's a good girl," He utters, rubbing your clit faster. "I'm gonna get us home, where you're gonna be my good little fucktoy. Understood?"

"Understood, Captain," You say, your heart racing at the notion. "I- I'm close."

"I know you are, baby," He grumbles, and you wonder whether the nickname was an accident. "Cum for me. All over my cock, remind me why I'm keeping you around. Now."

Your second orgasm is somehow more intense than the first, drenching you in sheer bliss. You aren't sure if you let out any noise at all, the only point of focus being how good you feel right now.

"That's it," Steve praises you smugly. "I knew you could do it for me. Feel so fucking good, wrapped around me like that."

"Fuck," You whisper as he pulls out, finally granting your cunt with a rest.

But your rest doesn't last very long.

Steve grabs you by the arm and spins you around before standing up to his feet. He uses his grip on your hair to pull you up onto your knees. "I know you want my cum inside you, but you haven't earned that yet," He says, wrapping his hand around his cock. "Open your mouth."

You obey, parting your lips and sticking out your tongue. The sight of him jerking off unlocks a new fetish you didn't know you had, and you think this is most handsome he's ever looked.

"That's it, you want my cum?" He asks teasingly, stroking himself faster. "Gonna cover you in it. Make you even prettier." Steve groans loudly, throwing his head back before looking back down at you. "Lemme see your tits, slut. That's it, take it off. Play with them for me. Just like that, pull on your nipples. Good girl."

You moan as you toy with your nipples, twisting and pulling them in anticipation of receiving his cum. He shudders, takes a step forward, and lets out a loud groan as his cum shoots out in spurts. On your face, your tongue, and your tits, Steve cums hard, continuing to stroke himself through it.

"Oh, fuck," He grunts, waiting until every last drop has been spilled on you before stopping. It seems to you that he's been frustrated for a while, with a copious amount of cum streaming out of him. A side effect of the serum; one that only a select few are privy to.

You swallow the cum that landed on your tongue and use your thumb to scoop the drops that landed on your cheeks into your mouth. Steve watches, breathing hard, taking in the gorgeous sight of your once irritating face covered with his seed.

He puts his softening cock away, already thinking about how badly he wants to cum inside you next time. How badly he wants to properly stretch out your ass. How badly he wants to get you pregnant.

Once he's caught his breath, Steve takes a few steps back. "Clean yourself up," He orders, taking one last look at your cum-covered chest before turning away. "I'm gonna go catch us some lunch."

steve masterlist

main masterlist

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