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You sit there in the clubhouse, sipping alcohol-free beer and doing notes for work, while Steve talks with some of his bikers. It’s become almost a routine now to come to the Dark Avengers’ pub after work on Fridays. Other days appear more normal, more domestic, but only on the veneer because your new home isn’t the one you lived in for the past years. Your new home is full of Steve’s presence and your blooming attempts to grow your own roots there.

You refuse to call it acceptance, because you hate how it all came to be and you're still afraid, but you’re adjusting. Learning yourself anew, as well as learning Steve. 

By now you know his tells enough to recognize the shift in him that day. Something’s under his skin, though it doesn’t appear to be anger. It takes you a few minutes of glancing his way from the corner of your eye and focusing on the way his thumb presses into your thigh, to realize he’s horny. 

Though that expression seems so bland and unfitting for the intensity of Steve’s arousal.

He’s not handsy, he doesn’t make innuendos or flirts you up. He strategizes, building his need to a point where he can spend hours unleashing it. 

Steve's attention is masterfully divided. He runs the conversation with Sam so smoothly, yet keeps looking at you in a way that betrays he's planning every single position he will take you in.

His hand rests on your thigh. A possessive brand. He doesn't need to move it under your skirt to give you a sign that in a few minutes you're going to be wrecked and screaming. By now, your body reacts to his touch eagerly. 

You’d prefer to say you were conditioned, but the way he made you fall apart that first time he took you is proof enough of how naturally responsive you are to his dark, filthy tricks.

Steve simply finishes his discussion, then places a hand on top of yours - stopping you mid writing a sentence in your notepad. He stands up and you know you should too. It's his graciousness that he allows you to go upstairs to the spare guest bedroom and fuck without people watching.

However, if you take too long to comply, he will do it right there on the table.

Not a quick, brutal thing either. Oh no, he'd deliberately make you feel so good, stretch it out, make you beg for all the filthy pleasure in front of all of the present Dark Avengers.

So it's best to follow his lead and go upstairs. He might suddenly pick you up and carry you, simply out of the fact he really wants to feel you in his arms, against his body. 

You never admit it out loud, but a zap of thrill shoots through you whenever he does that. Your husband showed you appreciation and worship in his own ways, but was never able to carry or manhandle you so easily.

Not rushing things like a wild animal doesn't mean Steve fucks you gently and tenderly. His commands grow harsher, urging you to take off your clothes before he rips them off.

He sits on the edge of the bed and makes you kneel before him. His hand is heavy and ruthless in the way he holds your head down as you try to swallow as much of his fat cock as possible; drooling and choking and tearing up. And hating how your core ignites with pleasure from the dirty act.

Steve watches it all in the mirrored wardrobe that's opposite of the bed. He notices the occasional rocking of your hips as you fight the growing need to be filled.

He rips you off of him and yanks you up to straddle his thighs. Makes you slide down on his cock in one stinging stretch. He urges you to ride him, giving you a spank every time he wants you to move faster.

Mouth on your breasts, sucking and biting until you're clenching so desperately. One hand in your hair, either pulling your head back when he wants to leave bite marks on your neck, or forcing you to look at him and hold his hungry gaze as you take it all like an obedient fucktoy.

He makes you look at him when you shatter with a soft scream. Fucks harder up into you, making you make those little whimpering noises.

"That's it, Cornflower. Such a beautiful fucktoy coming all over my cock."

Then the hand that was spanking and groping your ass slides down, gathers the sticky evidence of your orgasm on his fingers. The pressure of those wet fingers against your rim makes you tense, but you know better than to stop rolling your hips and meeting his hard thrusts. 

He finishes inside you right after you come for the second time, with two of his fingers deep in your ass. But Steve's not done. His need runs too deep, too hot.

He'll spread you out on the bed and kiss and maul all over your body, savoring the way you moan and desperately clutch at your surroundings - the bed sheets, your own hair, him. When you cry out futile protests as his mouth descends on your cunt and he sees the mess leaking out of your fluttering hole, Steve's dick stands to full attention again.

He gets off the bed for a moment. Satisfied conqueror that’s still not fully sated. He towers over you and watches your trembling body with dark pride. And more hunger.

Purposely, he walks to the door and opens it a fraction.

Then he's back to you, rolling you onto your side so that you're facing the door. He slides behind you, pulls one of your legs up and over his thigh. Then slowly - a mercy from him, truly - starts pushing his cock into your ass.

“Nnhhh-” you tense, toes curling as the pressure grows nearly unbearable.

"Be a good fucktoy." Steve commands in a low, breathy voice, curling his other hand around your neck.

When he's halfway in and you feel like he might split you open, the hand that was around your neck drifts lower. He starts playing with your clit, making your whole body shudder.

"That's it, Cornflower." He coos, petting your cunt. "You're going to take it all. And my sweet pussy is going to prove to me how much you like having your ass full of cock."

Your gaze flicks toward the ajar door, but your focus blurs. There's too much overwhelming sensation. Which Steve increases with every slide of his fingers, every inch forced into your tight hole, every word he rasps.

"Come on it like a good cockslut and I'll fill you up." His rhythm quickens. Faster. Harder.  "Then I'll take you home and fuck my pussy some more. Have you bloated with my seed until morning."

A floorboard creaks somewhere. You can't even be sure that anyone's walking this way. But the rush of fear and potential humiliation pairs with the onslaught of sensations.

You clench down hard, creaming all over Steve's fingers. Your cry is pitched high, choked with breathlessness from the forceful thrusts brutally stretching your ass as he mercilessly chases his own peak.

Your pussy tightens even harder when you feel the warm spurts filling you.

"My perfect cumdump." Steve's dirty words are spoken so softly, and paired with a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

A contrast to the way he just fucked you.

He wraps both arms around you, holding you tight and intimately. While his cock is still throbbing in your ass and your used holes are still on display for anyone who might appear in the hallway.

No amount of makeup will cover the marks on your neck and chest, and Steve won't allow you to wear a scarf or turtleneck. He wants everyone to know you're his. Most of all, loves that you are reminded of his ownership with every glance in the mirror, every curious look from others, every movement that flares with the imprint of his cock inside you.