#soft!dark steve

You blow out a low sigh, eyes tracking the clowd of your warm breath as it hangs in the cold air around you. Your hands are frozen, cold fingers curling around the edges of the book you're holding.

The end of October came with a harsh drop in temperature and to you it feels like nature decided to skip autumn alltogether to dive headlong into the cold, dark winter months.

If it wasn't for the colourful leaves scattering about the cold ground and floating through the air, driven by freezing winds, you could have sworn it is winter already.

You close the book – a rather lenghty novel you couldn't quite get into – and set it down on the bench next to you. Stretching out your legs in front of you, you supress a ywan and glance at the neatly arranged plants decorating the rectangular grave a few feet away from where you sit.

It had taken a while for you to get the hang of maintaining your parents' grave. Your eyes wander over the small, grey headstone that has their names and the dates of their birth and death etched into it. The latter is the same.

The first couple of months you hadn't done much of anything but sit at the grave and cry your eyes out for hours on end, but as time passed, you slowly gathered the shattered pieces of your being and put them back together in a manner that has you functioning more or less.

You did research on how to maintain graves, took walks around the graveyard to get some inspiration from the numerous other graves and eventually settled into properly taking care of the one that was, and still is, your responsibility.

This is the first time you actually planted some things instead of just putting loose flowers or arrangements on the slightly overgrown grave. It was a tedious task, but you still remember the sense of accomplishment you felt when you looked at the neatly groomed grave, long lasting flowers and greens framing the simple headstone.

The nice lady at the flower shop was really helpful with choosing the correct plants. You got a pretty Christmas Rose, an extraordinary kind with pinkish petals instead of the usual white or green, a pink heather, a plant with little red berries on it – gaultheria, you recall the name the florist told you – and a pretty ivy that had nice white edges instead of being fully green like the normal kind.

It's not overly colourful, but the flowers would survive the winter and make sure the grave doesn't look too bleak during the cold months of the year.

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of the reverie you had fallen into and push to your feet with a grunt, stiff legs wobbly under you. The book is stowed away in your backpack and you walk up to the grave, two fingers sweeping along the headstone.

“See you tomorrow, guys. Love you,” you say quietly, the familiar prick of welling tears promting you to quickly turn away and gaze out at the bench before leaving for the day. You will return tomorrow, as you do every day.

You tredge along the same path you always take, tall trees and bushes lining it on both sides. There's a quiet crack in the underbrush to your left, but you know better than to turn around and check for the source.

The first months you were terrified of walking along the quiet paths alone, jerking at every crack or rustle, but with time you learned that there's many a critter living in the hedges or tall trees growing everywhere on the large graveyard.

Birds, squirrels, bunnies, one or the other stray cat and more than a few moles call the graveyard their home and none of them are very threatening.

You keep walking, feet dragging across the path, fallen leaves crunching under the soles of our thick boots. After about five minutes you near the gate and pass it swiftly, stepping out into the street and leaving the eerie quiet of the graveyard behind.

-

“Guys!” Georgie screeches, wild curls bouncing around her round face as she hops over to the small group of girls standing outside their lecture hall.

The girls turn around to watch their classmate approach. She's holding a piece of paper in one hand, the other is waving at them excitedly. When she stops before them, she's a little out of breath.

“Look what I found! Now we finally have plans for Halloween!” the tall girl exclaims triumphantly and waves the paper in front of their faces. Nika, a short blonde, lets out an irritated huff and snatches the fluttering piece of paper from her friend's hand.

“Gimme that,” she says gruffly, annoyed at Georgie's excitable demeanour. She straightens the slightly crumpled piece of paper out – a flyer – and scans the text printed on the colourful background, obviously Halloween themed.

“A haunted house, really?” Nika snorts and hands the flyer back to Georgie. The tall girl pouts at the other's unenthusiastic response and holds the paper to her chest.

“What? None of you have come up with any good suggestions yet and we're not spending Halloween on Hailee's couch watching horror movies again,” Georgie argues, handing the paper off to Jasmine who is standing next to her.

“Where did you find this, Gigi? I don't think I've heard anyone else talking about this event,” the brunette asks, passing the flyer on to Hailee as you watch on, brows raised and growing increasingly curious about what it says on the flyer.

“The flyer looks real enough, there's even a date on it... Is there a prize or something for doing this? Or is that just one of these haunted houses someone decorated that you can walk through to get spooked?” Hailee ponders, turning the paper over, but finding the back blank.

“I don't know, it doesn't say on the flyer. But whatever it is, I'm sure it beats staying at home and doing nothing. We should go out a little, have fun,” the curly-haired girl shrugs.

“It says to brings warm clothes, snacks and something to sit on,” you state, brows pinching in confusion at the instructions.

“Oh, yeah. Read at the bottom. You're only allowed to go in one at a time. The others have to wait outside. I doubt you guys wanna stand in the cold and freeze your but off. Hence the warm clothes, snacks and something to rest on,” Georgie explains.

You skip to the bottom and read the words confirming what Georgie said. You hum and scan the flyer for the address. When you see it, you make a sound at the back of your throat.

“What is it?” Nika asks, leaning forward to look at the flyer again.

“I know where this is. It's next to the graveyard. The property borders on one side of it, I can see it from where I usually sit. Well, the part of it that peeks over the old fence anyway. That place is old as hell though. I don't know if it's safe to walk around there,” you note.

“If it wasn't safe, then I doubt someone would offer a haunted house tour. For free, too! I guess that means it might not be the most high-quality experience, but we can still have fun,” Georgie says.

“Mh, I suppose so,” Jasmine agrees with a shrug. “I don't have anything better to do anyway. Not planning on going to any of the campus parties, they get out of hand way too quickly. I don't like the rowdy atmosphere.”

“True. We could bring food and drinks. I have an insulated picnic blanket and with a few pillows we could set up camp in front of the house,” Hailee pipes up.

“I have a portable space heater! Don't want to freeze my ass off waiting outside,” Nika adds, still a little reluctant. She doesn't seem too convinced, but if the rest of the group is going to join in on this little venture, she won't say no.

“I can bring my portable speaker. Some music can never hurt,” Georgie says, a wide grin spreading on her face as her friends come around to her idea.

You sigh, still not too sure about this endeavour. The porperty was old, falling apart. And now apparently also 'haunted'.

“Come ooon, don't leave us hanging,” Georgie whines you name. She must've seen undecided expression on your face.

With a roll of your eyes you hand the paper back to her and grumble your agreement.

“Yay! Okay, okay, we'll plan this out later in the group chat yeah? I can make a list of things we need and everyone throws in what they can bring,” the tall girls says, stuffing the flyer back into her bag, already fully entering her planning mode.

You agree together with the other girls, the idea slowly sinking in. You suppose hanging out with your friends is better than holing away in your room to study or binge-watch whatever series catches your attention.

Even if the haunted house turns out to be a fluke, you still have music, food, drinks and your friends. That alone is more than enough for a good time. You'd enjoy it. Getting out of the house will be good for you.

-

The sky is already dark when you arrive. The soft glow of the few interspersed street lights do little to brighten the dark, eerie street.

The graveyard is located in a quieter area of the city, most houses in the close vicinity run down and abadnoned. No one wants to live anywhere near where the dead are buried.

You walk along the asphalt of the sidewalk, the old path uneven with many cracks in it where the roots of old trees broke through or an especially persistent weed fought its way to the surface.

You can already see your friends, hear them too, when you near the property. They already set up camp, so to say, a few lanterns and the space heater placed around the big blanket that sits in the middle of the overgrown lawn that sprawls in front of the wooden porch at the front of the house.

Georgie calls out your name when she sees you entering through the iron-wrought gate, the old thing creaking in its hinges when you push it open with a huff.

“Hey! You're the last. We've already got everything set up. Come one,” the curly-haired girl says cheerily, patting the free space on the blanket next to her.

You walk over and greet the others before plopping down on the blanket with a groan. Your thick puffer jacket swishes and bunches out around your middle when you sit down, the collar moving higher with the shift. You tilt your chin up and adjust the jacket so it doesn't cover half your face.

“That jacket really isn't flattering,” Nika points out with a half smile, not necessarily mean-spirited, but rather honest in an unfiltered way.

You roll your eyes and try to smooth down the puffed out front with little success. You instinctively try to suck in your stomach and straighten your back, but it doesn't change your appearance much.

“Don't be mean, Nika,” Jasmine interjects, sending you an apologetic smile while elbowing the blonde next to her. “Everyone looks a little round in these things, not only...”

Jasmine trails off, but you still hear the unspoken words floating in the air.

'Not only fat people'

Well, she probably would've phrased it a little more flowery, saying something along the lines of solidly build, chunky, curvy, soft, chubby or plump. Basically anything to avoid the word 'fat'.

You don't mind much. People need to get over the stigma that is connected to the word and you know very well you have a few extra pounds to you.

Most of the time it doesn't bother you too much, having taken the time to try your best and grow comfortable with your body the way it is instead of trying to conform to the propaganda society throws at you every waking hour.

But in moments like this, when someone points out your extra bits so blatantly, the old self-consciousness and shame come crawling back out of the hole you buried them in.

“It keeps me warm and it's comfortable,” you say, shrugging non-commitedly and hoping to move on from the topic before more old demons are stirred up inside you.

“That's what matters, practicality over looks,” Hailee says and points up at her knitted cap. It's green and has two eyes attached to it so the hat resembles a frog. You recall her telling you her grandma had knitted it for her when she was a child. It may be quirky, but it it's warm and comfortable.

“True, true,” Georgie says dimissively and then continues talking. “Anyway, now that we're all here, I suggest one of us should take the lead and get that haunted house experience.” She giggles gleefully, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she eyes her friends.

“The first is always the most exciting! The rest of us can can get started on the drinks and plating up the snacks. I'm starving,” Hailee adds, her green eyes glancing over to the pile of both home-made and bought snacks.

“Well, I guess that means you're going first,” Nika teases and nods at Hailee.

“What? Why me? I wanna eat first,” the girl whines. Nika snorts.

“You're the one who just said the first is the most exciting,” she retorts and then chuckles when she sees Hailee stick out her tongue.

“I don't wanna go first, I'm a crybaby. I need someone to tell me what's happening first or I'll pee my pants and die from a heartattack,” Jasmine declares dramatically, causing the rest of the girls to let out a mix of groans and laughter.

“It's just an old house, I doubt whoever organised what's inside put a lot of effort in,” you say and look up at the house looming over your group.

The windows are boarded up, a few of the shutters hanging only off of one hinge. The light blue paint once covering the wooden fassade is flaking off and the porch is almost overrun by wild growing weeds.

It is intimidating in a way, the sheer size of the slowly rotting building and the desolate windows that look like black maws giving it the typical horror movie feel.

“I don't even know if we're really allowed to be here. Maybe this belongs to someone. We could get in trouble for tresspassing,” you add, the thought only now popping into your head, rousing a whole new collection of concerns that start swirling in your head.

“I doubt it belongs to anyone. There aren't any signs and there was no indicator that said to stay away. The gate wasn't looked either,” Georgie says. “I mean, look at this place. I'm sure no one is missing it or would mind a couple of girls having a good time.”

She gestures at their surroundings and the other girls look around, mumbling their agreement.

You look around, too, taking in the wooden fence to your right. You know the graveyard is behind it. The rest of the property is surrounded by an old wire fence that has more holes than one could count. There is an old wooden shed towards the back of the garden on the left side of the house. The door is boarded up and the roof has a hole in it.

You let your gaze drift farther. Beyond the wire fence is a beaten path that leads past the property you and your friends reside on. You can barely make out a crumbling brick building on the other side of the path, this neighbouring building not looking any better than the one you are supposed to set foot in.

“I guess,” you agree reluctantly and shrug. Georgie rolls her eyes.

“I think you should go first, spoilsport. You can see for yourself there's nothing bad going on. Just a haunted house,” Georgie says and wiggles her eyebrows at you. You cross your arms.

“Why don't you go first?” you challenge, but Georgie just cackles and wags her finger at you.

“No, no, my friend. You're not getting out of that one. Come up, get your ass up,” she orders, digging her elbow into your side. You hiss and pull away.

“Fine, whatever,” you huff and heave yourself to your feel. Smoothing down your jacket, you make sure your phone is still in the pocket and straighten up fully. “If I die because some rotten floorboards give away under me, you're paying for my funeral.”

The girls laugh and you feel your lips twitch against your will.

“Just step lightly, you klutz. You're not that heavy,” Jasmine jokes and the small smile you wear quickly turns tense.

“Yeah, I guess not.”

There's a short moment of silence before Hailee pipes up.

“Oh! We should all take a selfie when we're inside. An additional challenge of sorts. Whoever gets the best picture in the creepiest setting wins!”

“Great idea, Hailee,” Georgie agrees and then turns to you. “Go on, we'll be waiting for you. You better get a good picture, too. I wanna make a collage with them so we never forget today.”

She shoos you away and you turn on your heel, waving over your shoulder as you walk towards the house. You almost prefer the house over your friends at the moment. They are nice enough, but some remarks are just needlessly rude. They just never seem to see it the way you do, telling you it was a joke or that you're overreacting.

“Get your crap together, this night is supposed to be fun,” you scold yourself and ascend the rickety stairs of the porch. When you approach the door, you see the same flyer Georgie showed the group a couple of days ago pinned to the brittle wood.

Pushing away any further hesitancy, you push down the handle and open the door. You can hear the girls shouting behind you, wishing you good luck.

You don't turn around, just step forward and let the door slowly swing back into place with a disturbing creak that echoes in the old house.

You take a deep breath and slowly walk forward, looking for any kind of clue that might tell you in which direction to go first. But there's nothing, or at least you don't see anything, so you set off towards the closest room.

It turns out to be a living room. The furniture is old, upholstery rotting and wood hollow from time. The floorboards groan under your feet, scattered paper and debris crunching under your boots. A stiff breeze rattles the windows and the entire house groans eerily.

You swallow hardly. There's nothing actually scary going on yet, no jumpscares or mysterious silhouettes in corners. And still, your fear mounts with every passing minute.

You don't like this anymore and you find yourself longing for some company. Going in alone was stupid. You should've just ignored the rule and went in teams.

Because now you are all allone in an old, creepy house, the rotten smell of decaying wood in the air and your mind playing tricks on you by making every shadow or foreign form out to be a creature waiting to bring your demise.

Whirling around, you quickly walk back out of the living room and enter the hallway you came from. Maybe you should just go back outside and pretend to having finsihed the tour.

You shake your head. They wouldn't buy it, you've barely been in here for five minutes.

As you stand and ponder over your options, still wincing at every unexpected sound or moving shadow, a flicker at the edge of your vision catches your attention.

You pivot and face the set of stairs leading to the first floor. There it is. A weak flicker dances across the wall at the end of the stairs. It's warm and unsteady, reminding you of a candle.

Your gaze sweeps along the other doors that lead away from the hallway and into more unknown rooms, then back to the flicker upstairs.

“Let's just get this over with,” you whisper to yourself, the sound of your voice loud and at odds with the symphony of creaks, groans and clattering that echoes through the house.

You head towards the stairs and start climbing them, one hand firmly on the rail should you slip or the wood give away. If you go upstairs now you'll be done quicker. You'll just have a quick look around, try to find a location for the picture and then leave. Easy peasy.

The stairs grown under your weight and you reach up to wipe your damp forehead, the skin wet from fear and worry. This whole haunted house thing is putting you through the ringer in a way you couldn't have antcipated.

Grumbling at your own silliness, you finally reach the top of the stairs. The light is brighter now and you look down both sides of the hallway. The flickering is coming from your left so you head in that direction, your heart pounding in your chest and a cold sweat breaking out along your back and under your pits.

'Maybe it's just some homeless people,' you think, your sweaty hands clutching at the phone you retrieved from your pocket once you reached the top of the stairs.

'Or a trick from the person who arranged this... It's nothing scary, nothing real. Stay calm.'

Tiptoeing towards the source of the light – a slightly ajar door at the end of the corridor – you try to measure your breaths. Every loud creak your steps cause make you wince.

“This is so stupid,” you breathe out. “Get your shit together.”

The door is right in front of you now and you take a few breaths, hyping yourself up and gathering enough courage to push the door open.

The wooden door moves ever so slightly under the gentle push of your fingertips and to your relief this particular door doesn't screech noisily. In fact, it glides open rather smoothly.

You peek around the wood, hands holding your phone to hard you're almost afraid the screen is gonna crack.

What you see is not at all what you expected.

The room, unlike every other part of the house you saw, is clean. There's no debris or paper littering the floor and the furniture looks old, but well kept. Like someone made the effort to patch it up and keep it in shape so it doesn't rot away like the rest of the furniture in the house.

“What the hell,” you mutter, pushing the door all the way open and straightening up.

A bed comes into view. The metal frame is a little rusty, but the mattress and everything on it looks new. This room lookes like someone's been living in it and while the house's dilaptidation couldn't be hidden entirely, it still looks decent.

The next strange thing are the candles lit everwhere, the source of the flickering you saw from downstairs. They are scattered across the floor around the bed, one candle is placed on each bedside table and a few more are placed on the other surfaces in the room.

Your eyes wander over the bizarre scene and you briefly throw a glance over your shoulder before stepping inside the room.

A window comes into view, embedded into the wall to your left. In front of it stands a wooden chair, a thing cushion placed on the seat. It's placed in a way to makes it seem like whoever put it there sat down on it to look outside. On the window sill sits a pair of binoculars.

Curious, but no less scared, you appraoch the chair and stand behind it to see what view would warrant the binoculars. You bend down a little and peer through the window and out into the dark.

It's hard to see outside, what with the candles inside the room reflecting off the window and the darkness of the night. Fortunately, the moon decided to shine in all it's glory that night, chasing away some of the impenetrable darkness.

“What...” you mumble, eyes honing in on the view.

The window faces the graveyard. It takes you a moment to realise it and when you do, you glance away from the view to look at the binoculars sitting on the sill. What on earth would a person be watching on a graveyard?

You carefully reach for the binoculars, another glance over your shoulder ensuring your solitude before you pick them up. As soon as you lift them from their place, you freeze.

Underneath the pair of clunky binoculars sits a sketch pad. The drawing on the first page is dark, drawn with coal by the looks of it. But that isn't what makes you halt your actions. It's the motive that chills you to the bone.

It's you, sitting on the bench by your parents' grave with a book in hand, your backpack sitting by your feet.

Dropping the binoculars, you hastily scurry away from the window. Your heartbeat picks up again, the organ thundering inside your chest, beating against your ribs frantically.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” you whisper, your sweaty fingers losing their grip on your phone. It clatters to the floor.

“Do you like it?”

You choke on a scream and jump. You heave out a cough and clumsily whirl around, feet twisting beneath you and making you stumble.

“Careful, sweetheart. You're gonna hurt yourself.”

A man steps past the threshold, his frame filling out the doorway as he ducks through and comes closer.

You want to scream, but you're still coughing up your spit, one hand pressed to you heaving chest as you back away from the approaching man.

His features are lit by the flickering candles, his huge body throwing an even bigger shadow against the wall. He raises his hands towards you and you finally manage to choke out a croaky screech.

“Hey, hey! That's not the reaction I was expecting, sweetheart,” the man scolds.

You try to make a run for it, your shaky legs compelling you to run, hide, get away from whoever this man, this stalker is.

Your efforts are quickly put to an end. The hulking giant of a man flings a thick arm out and catches you around the middle, yanking you back and cutting off your escape route.

You start to thrash immediately, your mouth opening to let out another scream. But before the sound can leave your lips and alert your waiting friends, the man's big hand clamps over your lips, sucessfully muffling the sound behind his huge palm.

Using his grip on both your face and midsection, he hauls your wriggling body against his, your back pressed to his broad chest. He meanly digs fingers into your face and you whimper, whipping your head side to side to try and dislodge his painful grip.

“I suggest you calm down, sweetheart. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Can't have you ruining it with your hysterics,” the growls lowly, the sound of his voice rumbling against your back.

You shake helplessly in his arms, tears of pure terror welling in your eyes as you keep thrashing in this stranger's hold. Your breath comes in choppy pants your panic threatens to swallow you hole and you kick your legs out uselessly.

In a short moment of clarity, you lift your legs and drop your entire weight down, hoping to dislodge the tight grip the stranger has on you, but he doesn't budge. Not as much as a grunt comes from him as you let your limp body hang from his arms.

He lets out a chuckle, dark and condescending, and squeezes your middle until you wheeze.

“You gotta try a little harder than that if you want to break my hold. Not that you could, but I suppose it is a valiant effort,” he says, a mocking tone to his voice. His hold loosens around you and you suck in a deep breath now that you ribs are no longer constricted by his iron grip.

“It's not a fair fight, you see,” he continues, shifting his grip from your middle to swiftly gather your wrists in one big hand, bending your arms and holding them still against your chest. “I could hold you down with two of my fingers and you wouldn't be able to get away.”

He twists your around, his hand still holding yours captive against your chest, but his other leaves your mouth in favour of framing your vulnerable neck.

You owlishly blink up at him, your muscles trembling with the adrenaline cursing through them, tears gathering along the rim of your eyes. Your jaw is clenched shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Such a scared little bunny,” the man coos, his thumb stroking along the soft skin of your throat. “This isn't quite how I imagined this to go, but we'll make the best of it, hm?”

“What do you want from me?” you burst out, your jaw unclenching long enough to let the question snap out. You tug at your hands and try to take a step back, but the hand at your throat tightens to keep you in place and you sputter, quick to stop your movement.

“It's not about what I want from you, but what I can give you, bunny girl,” he says, shifting his stance slightly. The flames of a few candles close to you light up his face for the first time since he stepped foot inside this room and you see the sick smile stretching his lips behind the thick beard covering the lower half of his face.

Your eyes jump over his features, taking in the beard, the shape of his jaw, his nose and his eyes... His eyes, dark with wide-blown pupils that only leave a sliver of his irises visible. You can't make out their colour in the dim light, but you still recognise him.

A whole new kind of terror sweeps through you and you unwittingly start to pull at your wrists, fighting to escape his grip, his surprisingly strong grip. Not so surprising anymore now.

“Oh, the penny has dropped,” the man snickers, flicking his head to the side briefly to shake a strand of his grown out hair away from his eyes. It used to be short. And his face was always shaven clean.

“You see, being on the run is quite the tiresome task, sweetheart. Moving from one location to the other, avoiding the authorities, hiding in the shadows. It gets lonely, you know.”

He yanks on your arms and tightens his grip on your throat. He walks you towards the bed, pushing until you sink down on it, legs dangling over the side.

“I've been hiding out here for a while now. Months, to be more specific. It's bleak, boring. But I found something to entertain me. A little bunny that hops by my window every day and sits pretty just for my eyes to see.”

He's been watching you. America's hero, fallen from grace and now off the deep end too, has been stalking you, eyes following you when you sat unsuspectingly, visiting your passed parents, seeking out their lost affection, their comforting presence.

You feel sick, the terror knotting in your stomach as you struggle to breathe through the tight grip Steve Rogers has on your throat.

It really isn't a fair faight. He could snap your neck without blinking and you can't even get him to let go of your hands. Hands that he is holding with only one of his.

“You're lonely, too. So alone, no family left now that mommy and daddy are gone. But you're a good daughter, still. Visiting them, taking care of their grave. So good with your hands, sweetheart. The grave looks beautiful with those plants you picked out,” the Soldier croons, looking down at you with an adoring expression that makes you heart drop somewhere in the vicinity of your knees. He really is mad.

“Don't- Don't talk about my parents you freak,” you manage to squeak, a wheezing sound what with your limited ability to breathe.

“Mind your manners, bunny. I don't appreciate being cursed at. I made all this for you, as a surprise. To make our first time special,” Steve grits out, giving you a shove that sends you bouncing against the mattress.

His hands are finally off your body and you use the opportunity to crawl away from him, huddling on the other side of the mattress while catching your breath. Your throat throbs from his harsh grip.

Steve walks over to the door and closes it, then he turns around to face the bed.

“You need me, sweetheart. You just don't know it yet. I can give you everything you need, everything you lost. I lost a lot of things too. We can be good for each other,” he explains, his face shockingly genuine.

You can't believe what you're hearing. This man is bonkers. He lost his mind. You don't even know him outside his famous Soldier persona. He's a wanted war criminal. And yet here he stands, claiming to know you, speaking about whatever delusion he's crafted in that sick head of his.

'A wanted war criminal that has set his sights on me. Just my luck.'

“Don't look at me like that. I'm not gonna hurt you,” Steve declares and then strides over towards the bed. As he moves closer, he smoothly strips off the thick sweater he's wearing, then the black tank top underneath.

You just stare, frozen in shock. Your mind is reeling, muscles locked in a cowering position.

His thick, muscular chest comes into view, a layer of dark hair covering the taut muscle. Imaptiently toeing off his boots, Steve leans on the bed. Once they're off, he fully climbs onto the mattress, the soft material dipping beneath his weight and jostling you from your stupor.

“No!” you shout and launch off the bed, but not fast enough. A strong hand latches around your ankle, dragging your upper body back up on the back and towards him.

“No, no, no! Let me go, HE-”

A harsh slap whips your head to the side. Your ears ring with the force of it, the ceiling swimming before your eyes for a solid thirty seconds before you can focus enough to work through what just happened.

Steve is straddling your thighs, his teeth bared when he reaches the collar of your puffer jacket and rents the fabric down the middle, busting the zipper and tearing the dark material.

You cry out again. The side of your face throbs and Steve's rough handling hurts your arms, but you can't do much to deter him as he rips the jacket down your arms and then pulls it out from under you to discard it on the floor. Your pullover suffers the same fate, your bra swiftly following suit.

You start to cry, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you. Shaky arms try to cover your exposed chest, but the blonde man above you growls, slapping the weak limbs to the side and reaching out to cup the soft flesh in his calloused hands.

“So pretty, bunny,” he groans, kneading your chest and stroking your nipples. The sensitive peaks pebble in the cold air and from his incessant ministrations.

“Stop, stop, please,” you exclaim tearily, hands hitting at his arms and shoulders, your legs kicking aimlessly behind him.

“You'll be crying for me to touch you soon enough,” Steve says gruffly and rises from his perch on your thighs to flip you onto your stomach. He turns around, settling his weight on your lower back until you squeal in pain.

His hands reach for your jeans and he begins to roughly pull them down, taking your panties with them as he shoves them over the curve of your ass, the fabric scratching you roughly in the process. He wrestles your shoes off and in a matter of seconds you're left completely bare beneath his strong body.

Steve's hands crawl across the backs of your thighs, easily dodging you swinging calves, and then moves up to slap your ass, a delighted grunt coming from him when he watches your flesh jiggle.

“What a nice piece of ass. Love me a girl with some extra on her,” he says, greedily squeezing you bum and thighs.

You grimace at his words, a sob lodging in your throat. Your tears overflow as you're groped and prodded like a piece of meat.

“Please, please, let me go,” you quaver, but your pleas fall on deaf ears. Steve is intent on getting from you what he wants and there's no stopping him.

You let out a weak shout when he finally lifts himself off you back and turns you back around to face him. He's swift to push you further onto the bed and away from the edge of the mattress.

Your limbs start to flail, but he wrestles his way between your legs before you have a real chance to get away.

“Not going anywhere, sweet girl. You're mine,” the former hero rasps. He rests a hand next to your head, partially leaning his weight on you as his other reaches down to pull off his own pants and underwear. He kicks both off the bed, all the while pinning you down with just his torso.

You can feel the hot length of him touching your chilled skin. Every inch of his bare body touching yours sends a wretched shiver through you. You want to throw up, scream, cry. And most of all do you want him off of you. You don't want any part of him touching you, you don't want him looking at you, breathing in your face and cooing false promises. You want none of it.

In a last valaint effort you gather all your strength and start to thrash underneath him. You pull your legs up to your chest and kick out, hitting him on the shoulder before he can duck out of the way.

He raises one arm to shield his face and you take the opening, rolling to the side where his arm is no longer caging you in.

A feral growl rips through the burly man's chest as you slip off the bed. He lifts himself to his knees and lauches forward, just catching you elbow in his grip and yanking harshly.

You exclaim and stumble backwards, thrown off-kilter by the sudden pull. Steve doesn't hesitate to use your unsteady stance and brings you back towards the bed, his long arms wrapping securely around your body and dragging you onto the mattress.

“You'll learn to love it, you'll see. This is what you need!” the blond man barks, frustration bleeding into his features at your ongoing struggle.

Discarding any caution or gentleness, Steve wrestles you onto your side and spoons you from behind. His hard body molds against you back, one of his strong legs shoving between yours. He claps one hand over your mouth, muffling your protests. His other arm wraps around your middle, leaving you completely immobilised.

The only sounds audible in the candle-lit room are your heavy breaths and muffled whimpers. Tears still leak out of your eyes, drawing wet paths over your hot face.

“Hush, bunny. You'll enjoy this just as much as I will,” Steve promises gravelly. The arm around your middle shifts, calloused fingers finding your breasts. He pinches and strokes, giving the flesh the occasional squeeze as he explores you to his hearts content.

“You're perfect,” he grumbles, his lips seeking out your bared throat and pressing a chain of wet, prickly kisses to the sensitive skin.

You can do nothing but endure his touch, muscles still trembling but not fighting. You know it's no use. He's too strong, too big and fast. You'll never get away. If you let him, maybe he won't hurt you.

A tingle stirs deep in your belly when Steve gropes down your body, appreciatively squeezing every soft roll and dip along your side before slipping close to your core.

You tense, a loud whimper vibrating against the palm across you mouth. Steve just shushes you and shifts the leg he has lodged between yours, lifting it to open you up to him. Your soft thigh tenses against his firm, sinewy one, trying to force it back down to hide your most intimate parts from him, but it is no use. He's stronger than you.

“No hiding, bunny,” the Soldier grumbles, nipping your throat and making you squeak at the pain.

His hand reaches the curls on your mound, fingers continuing to dip lower until he reaches the petals of your sex. His middle finger seeks out your bundle of nerves with expert precision, lightly pressing on it and chuckling when you twitch against him.

He toys with the botton for a few moments before sliding lower, using his fingers to part your sticky lips and circle your entrance.

You're ashamed at the wetness gathered between your legs. It's not much, but it's there and you cringe at the feeling of the man's fingers dipping into it teasingly. A sad croak fights its way past your lips and Steve pats your pussy playfully, telling you not to be embarassed. It only heightens your shame.

“Your body knows what it needs, sweetheart. Getting slick for me, what a sweet pussy,” he sighs, the earlier tension gone from his voice.

You groan when Steve plunges a finger past your entrance without a warning, wriggling the thick digit around and pulling it out just to add a second one. He fucks you with his fingers, his thumb teasing your clit as he draws out your unwanted pleasure.

The tingle in your belly sparks into a flame and you helplessly wriggle in Steve's arms as the pleasure forced upon you mounts with every stroke of his fingers against you walls.

Small, unwanted sounds spill from you, little pants and whines sounding past the barrier of Steve's hand.

When the man crooks his fingers, shifting your legs further apart before plunging the digits back into your increasingly wet cunt, your back arches with a  squeal. Steve laughs gravelly and does it again, keeping up the motion of his hand.

You moan, tears squeezing past your tightly shut eyes as the wicked man massages your g-spot with unrelenting fingers. The action has you senseless. No one but you has ever managed to find this little place, much less work it with such precision.

Your body tenses, legs thrashing and arms aimlessly waving around while the pleasure mounts dangerously fast, winding your muscles tighter and tighter until you're ready to snap.

Steve rescinds the hand from your mouth, damp palm touching your hand when he gathers the flapping limb in his and intertwines your fingers in a sick gesture of intimacy. But the mounting pleasure inside you has you too distracted to fight it, so you let him hold your hand, your other one clinging to the duvet that is crumpled beneath your bodies.

“Come on, cum for me. I know you want to, your little pussy is squeezing my fingers,” Steve husks, chuckling at your senseless whines and gasps.

His thumb presses against your throbbing clit and with a few more strokes of his fingers, you fall apart.

“Yes! That's it, good girl, keep going,” Steve praises throatily, his hips bucking slightly against you lower back as you tremble in his arms, overcome by the most intense orgasm of your life.

It washes over you in waves and you're left boneless by the time the last of them passes over you. Your chest heaves, sweat dotting your brow.

Your mind is still reeling from the sensations you just experienced at the hands of this madman and you can do nothing but lie there limply when Steve shuffles away from you. You flop onto your back, your trembling thighs pressing together.

They don't stay like that for long, the blond's big hands prying them apart effortlessly. Not that you put up much of a fight.

He kneels between your legs and his hand reaches down to stroke his flushed and angry looking length, a few drops of precum bubbling from the tip.

He groans needily and adjusts his position, lining himself up to your glistening, puffy pussy.

You mewl pathetically, legs kicking weakly at either side of his hips when you feel the head of his cock nudging your folds apart.

“No...” you beg quietly, hands coming up to push at him. Steve wordlessly gathers your wrists in one hand and holds them against his chest. Your palm rests flat against his firm muscle and he leans over you just a bit, his free hand grabbing your thigh just above your knee and opening you up to his view.

He looks at your face when he tilts his hips and slides inside just a bit, marvelling at the scrunched up expression you wear.

He's big and the stretch burns despite his slow pace.

You whine low in your throat, the fingers resting against Steve's chest pushing at him, nails digging into his skin. He hisses at the sting but keeps pressing on.

“It hurts, please. You won't fit,” you cry out at last, hips twisting from side to side to dislodge him. Steve only tsks at your squirming and pulls back a little just to press forward again, inserting another inch into your spasming pussy.

“I'll fit, bunny. Don't you worry,” he grunts, letting go of your thigh to wipe away the tears rolling down your temples.

You grimace when he slides in even deeper, carving out a space for himself in your body, molding you to his shape. When Steve turns his hand to cup your face, you find yourself leaning into it, seeking comfort from the pain, the fear. Too bad that he's the source of it.

With a last jerk of his hips, Steve's entire length disappears into your straining pussy and you exclaim when you feel his hips resting against yours. He lets go of your hands and moves to grab both your legs, pressing them apart and up.

You feel horribly exposed to his hungry gaze, cringing at the way he stares between your legs when he pulls back and pushes back into you.

Every move of his hips forces a strangled sound from you, your chest bouncing with his still rather tame thrusts. He's savouring it, every push and pull through your quivering flesh.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Steve grunts, his groans and pants mingling with your squeaks and wheezes. His face is flushed, plump bottom lip caught between his white teeth.

He lets go of your legs after a few minutes of measured thrusting, dropping his upper body over yours. His cock slides out of you when he shifts and you whimper, your thighs immediately moving to close. But Steve's thick waist is in the way, so you endure the throbbing that pulses between your legs.

Steve settles above you, his hips cradled between your legs, strong arms to either side of your head. He briefly shifts his weight to reach down and line himself up again before pushing back inside with a throaty groan.

“Yes... what a good bunny you are, taking me so well,” he moans, his hot breath washing over your face. His hips move, finding a new rhythm and a new angle, one that has you seeing starts.

“Oh, oh... hngh,” you squeal out, hands reaching up to clutch at Steve's shoulders. “Fuck, oh.”

The man above you grunts his approval, keeping up his motion to hit your spot again and again, the tip of his erection sliding across with with every retreat and advance.

“There you go, doesn't that feel good? I told you I would make you feel good,” he growls, speeding up his thrusts and giving you no respite.

You babble, hands slipping along the Soldier's arms, unable to hold on to anything for long while he fucks you senseless with his sharp, angled thrusts. The fire in your belly ignites again, burning brighter with every stroke.

“Mh, fuck you're gonna make me cum,” Steve pants. His face is scrunched up, mouth hanging open as he revels in the feel of your wet, hot pussy clenching around him.

He leans to the side and reaches down, pressing his fingers along your slipper cunt, seeking out your clit and rubbing it earnestly.

You keen, back arching off the bed. It doesn't take more than a few rubs to make you come, your clit pulsing under his fingerpads as he keeps hammering away at your g-spot.

You let out a loud, gravelly moan, the sound quickly breaking off into a high-pitched whine when your pleasure peaks, a pressure unlike any you've felt before building in your belly and releasing with one last well-placed thrust.

You squirt all over Steve's cock, his pelvis and yours drenched in your cum as you shake pathetically underneath him, you hands slapping the mattress.

“Good fucking girl,” Steve growls, his eyes rolling back in his head when he feels you squirt over him, your walls bearing down on him as you tremble through your orgasm. “Fuck, you're perfect.”

He rescinds his hand from your overstimulated clit and drops down to his underarms above you, his hips bucking desperately against you.

You vaguely feel Steve's cock throb and twitch inside, followed by a primal groan above you.

The big man shakes with the force of his orgasm, unfiltered sounds rumbling from him as he paints your insides with his seed, pulse after pulse of it surging into you.

You moan weakly at the warm sensation of his spend, too tired and fucked out to listen to the alarm bells going off in the back your head at his actions.

Once Steve stops shaking, he lifts his sweaty face and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You may have lost your family, but we can make a new one together. You will never be alone again, sweetheart. Neither of us will be.”

Your eyes snap open, your sluggish thoughts clearing in seconds as you stare up at the former hero, pinned beneath his thick body after he took you against your will and came inside you without any form of protection.

“You'll make a good mother.”

His eyes meet your wide ones, a wicked smirk curling his mouth.

“No,” you breathe out, hands lifting and pushing at his chest, body squirming desperately to dislodge his cock still nestled inside you.

“Yes,” Steve hisses, snapping his hips against yours and wriggling them from left to right, letting you feel every inch of his rapidly hardening length. He does it again, cutting off the sob rattling in your chest and replacing it with a choked moan.

His hands wipe at your tears and he coos at you, shushing your sad, terrified sobs as he keeps working his hips against yours.

“You'll love it, trust me. I will take such good care of you.”

...

Ooooop, that was quite the wild ride 😆 I wrote this monster in one sitting and I did not proofread a single sentence. I cannot bring myself to care. Y’all are supposed to enjoy the story, not my immaculate spelling, lol 😳 (it’s not immaculate, it really isnt. And don’t get me started on punctuation...)

“I can cook you something else if you don’t like this.” I said, trying once more to get her attention. She doesn’t even react. I know she hates what is on her plate, but she pointedly picked up her spoon and took in a mouthful. Right now, I feel as if she’d rather drink poison than look at me.

Sighing, I try to reach across the table to her, my hand an inch away from hers when she quickly got up and dumped her leftovers in the trash, walking away without a look behind her back. No one shows me their back, not unless they want a bullet in it. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t fear me anymore.

If there is one thing she knows, it is that I will not hurt her. Never again, not after I lost my heart to her so tragically that Shakespeare would pay me good money to have an opportunity to write about it.

Give her space, that is what they told me. But space from what? How? I cannot stop loving her, I cannot stop myself from crawling in the bed beside her, staring at her face bathed in moonlight. She can hate me, she can even kill me, but she cannot leave me. I wouldn’t let her.

My fingers slide slowly over the few inches that separate us, gently landing on her shoulder. She was awake, I knew she was, and her body became rigid. It had been more than a month since I fucked her, nearly two weeks since I last touched her. With the way her skin came alive with goose bumps, I know she missed my touch too. If I was a slave to my heart, she was a slave to her body. She couldn’t help craving my touch any more than I could stop craving her heart.

I pulled her close, rolling on top of her and groaning quietly at her eyes that lay stubbornly closed. My lips press softly against one, and then the other, feeling her eyelashes fluttering against my mouth. Her breath hitched, fingers twisting into the sheets, and I cursed her for keeping herself from me. She wants me, and I am here to give her everything.

Please God, just let her look at me.

I kiss down her face, tracing the curve of her shoulder and neck and the soft swell of her chest, reveling in the softest whines she let escape. Her body was clenched tight, like a snake coiled tight and ready to attack only she relaxed with every touch of my lips. I pushed away the flimsy robe from her body, the one she still wore to bed. Maybe it was habit, most probably it was torture. I could see her, but I couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t taste her.

But she didn’t stop me today. I bathed her in my tongue, relishing her taste and feel, fingers digging into her flesh to reclaim the body that I had stolen. I wasn’t gentle the first night I took her. She had cried under me, pleading to be let go as I satiated my appetite inside her. She didn’t want me then, and I didn’t love her then. But now, she wanted me, and I loved her. But there was only silence.

Please God, just let her say my name.

The moment I entered her, her eyes snapped open and she raised them heavenwards to glare at the monster up there, probably telling him to fuck off for letting me get to her. I filled her perfectly, and her hands twitched until she lost the battle and wrapped them around me. Her neck was tilted to stop the temptation of facing me. And I let her have her dignity by burying my face in her breast and breathing hard as I thrust inside her.

It was so gentle, and I knew she hated it. Her entire body trembled as I touched her like a lover, coaxing her to open up. She once told me that she’d rather take my bullet than my heart, but I was a man rarely denied. I forced her to take my love, forced it into the marks of my teeth that littered her collar bone and the mouth hands that worshiped her and the lips that formed her name with every passing second.

She was close, I could tell. Her thighs shook and nails dug hard into my shoulders and the moment she came, I knew what would happen. Love was about letting go, about relaxing in its embrace. She snapped. Her eyes flew to mine and filled with rage, and she clawed like a tigress. I was prepared for her fight, prepared to see her eyes narrowed in hatred and I reveled in it.

I could take her bitterness; I could take every scar she ever gave me as long at those eyes were locked with mine in the battle of wills and hearts. She cried, fighting hard the way she knows I like, and my lips curled into a smile, hips hammering harder, causing her to wince and curse but retaliate with more vigor. The ring on her hand, the one I had forced there, cut across my cheek as she slapped me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Let her cut me open and wring me dry of the last drop of blood as long as she was mine. As long as she stayed under me like this and called me words that no one dared say to me at my face. I held her strong, fucking her so hard that I know she hurt for real. But the tears that slipped past her eyes weren’t those of physically agony. When I had stolen her body, she used to cry with pain. Now that I am stealing her soul, she cries because of loss.

I am as battered as her abused hole, her fingers tangled in my hair that she tried best to uproot. But as angry as she was, the wetness that slicked between her legs gave her away. She didn’t stop me. She hurt me, but she didn’t stop me. One word from her and I would have. Between us, she has all the power, but she takes my lust and my need and my love and throws back her anger and disgust at me, poorly concealing the feelings that she reciprocated inside her very being.

I pitied her then, because I would hate it too if my captor turned out to be my pardoner, if the villain I was sworn to hate wore a shining armour and became my hero. I made her fall for me, and she could hate me for it, but she would still love me. I made sure of it.

The moment she begins to close her eyes I grab her face hard, grunting as I pushed into her struggling body with enough force to bruise both of us. Our hearts were already broken, so some bones wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Don’t look away. Not now.”

I am begging, pleading, ordering, praying, everything and nothing as she looks at me and falls apart. I push away as she arches her back and shakes in pleasure, my mouth finding her cunt and diving in until her shrieks are heard by God and Satan and angels and demons who all stop to watch us burn. My tongue sweeps inside and flicks until she cums again, trying to pull away from my mouth unsuccessfully that keeps up until she is sobbing and cuming once more.

She lays limp on her bed, the fight fucked out of her as I enter her once more and take her harder and faster and with more love than either of us knows what to do with. I release inside, marking her as mine and holding her close, ignoring the blood that leaks down the cuts that she inflicted on me. I would put a dagger in my own heart to see her smile.

Please God, let her smile again.

“Steve.” She says, and my heart freezes before burning again because I never thought she would say my name again. It tastes like poison to her, and she only spits it out. But now, she sobs. “Why cannot you let me hate you in peace?”

I want to. I want to give her everything she ever wants. I want to give her my gun and ask her to point it at me and end her suffering. Mine too. But I love her so much. And I love her so selfishly. She was mine, and her every breath was mine. We could spend the rest of our lives fighting, with her clawing at me and me chasing her when she tries to run, but we will spend it together.

Because she was here to stay. She was my heart. My true heart. The one inside my chest could shrivel up and die but she would live and beat and thrive, and as long as she did, so would I. I didn’t know how to leave her alone.

“I will let you strangle me right now.” I promise her, pulling her broken body close. “I would let you take out the last dregs of your hate and rage on me, right here, right now, if you promise to love and mourn me for the rest of your life. For your love, I would die.”

This night, she doesn’t sleep with her back to me. Her head is on my chest, and I wonder what she is thinking. Maybe counting my heartbeats. Or maybe contemplating how to stop them.

You started walking towards where the switch was and turned on the light, “I don’t know how on earth you thought this was okay, but it’s not. This is an invasion of-“ you stopped berating him when you turned to look at him. He was sitting on your couch, legs spread and glaring at you and looking so beaten up there were bruises on his face, his arms covered with slashes that were still bleeding. But despite that, his posture was still rigged with unrestrained anger.  

“Oh my god, Steve-“ you quickly walked to your room to gather emergency medical supplies and hurried to him, your medical training kicking in. You immediately sat beside him to inspect the deep gashes on his arms. He didn’t budge, not making your job easier. “Come on, let me see.” You implored him, but he just sat there, and it was only when you stared into his eyes that you saw the hurt in them.

His hand lifted to your face, his thumb grazing over your lips. “Did you let him kiss you?”

You tried to move away but his hand stopped you from moving even an inch. “Steve, you’re blee-“

“Just answer me.”

You stared anywhere else but him, before answering exasperatedly, “No. Happy? Now let me see.” He looked at you long and hard, trying to see if you were lying, his hands now on your nape.

“My love, if you let him, I would have destroyed him.” You were shocked by his statement, you could see how serious he was. And you knew Steve was a man of action- he never threatens to do something he wouldn’t follow through. And that was what made him dangerous. He had always been a civilized man but when it came to you, as Bucky used to say, he became a beast. Steve, for all his goodness, had his flaws. The dark side of him only surfaced when it came to you- Steve had always thought you were his, someone made just for him. A little piece of heaven he had in return for the lifetime of battles the world had thrusted him to. You had no idea what he did and he could do just to make sure you and him would end up together.

Before you could give him a piece of your mind, he released you and you noticed how badly injured he was. You started cleaning his wounds to see how deep they were. You knew with his super soldier serum, you had to work faster before his wound started closing. You worked efficiently, putting all of your concentration on his needs. You pointed out how the compound had a doctor other than you, to which he just shrugged his massive shoulders, saying he didn’t need them when he had you.

You started clearing out, when he pulled you down on his thighs. “Steve,” you struggled to get out of his hold, but he did nothing but hugged you, his head burrowed on your neck. Your hand was on his head, pushing him away when you heard his steely voice, “Be careful who you put between us, sweetheart. Next time I won’t be as lenient.”

It was two weeks before you said yes to another date with Matthew. While the two of you were constantly communicating, what Steve said got to you and you became wary of meeting with Matthew. You told yourself you were single and there was nothing wrong with dating and if he had a problem with that then it wasn’t your problem.

But boy, was it your problem. You were out having lunch date with Matthew when a shining, black arm caught your attention. You didn’t want to look up, but you did because you were trying to be brave. Or at least acting. You excused yourself from Matthew, feigning on going to the lady’s room but instead made your way to Bucky who was looking innocently at you.

You squinted your eyes at him, to which he just flashed his innocent smile at you, “Hi, Y/N.”

He looked at Matthew, assessing him as his head cocked to the side before sliding his eyes at you, and slowly shaking his head.

“Don’t you dare, Bucky!”

“What?” He chuckled, “I’m not doing anything.” He started tinkling with his phone, before showing you the picture he took of you and Matthew.  You snatched it away from his hand, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. The fucker sent it to Steve.

“Bucky! How dare you! You know how unreasonably crazy he is!”

“Exactly.” He looked at you with all seriousness. “You know that, and you still did it. As his friend, Y/N, you know I had to tell him.”

You couldn’t believe him, he was as crazy as Steve. You pity the woman he’d fall in love with someday. You couldn’t begin to even imagine how overbearing Bucky would be once he fall in love. You hope to God the girl would turn the other way- you wished to God you did when you started falling for Steve.

“Unbelievable.” You muttered under your breath, as your phone started ringing. Steve was calling you. You didn’t dare answer, rationalizing to yourself that you did nothing wrong, that you were a single woman and not someone who was cheating behind your man’s back. “We’re not even together! You have no right, Bucky.”

“Doll, I don’t think he accepts that you aren’t together anymore.” He stood up, “If you want to avoid chaos, I suggest you be honest to yourself. You love that crazy man. Stop acting like you don’t anymore.” He turned back and started walking before he stopped and half-turned to you.

“Oh, and have a nice date.”

Your eyes went up to the tall man waiting for you in front of the altar. He was wearing a white crisp long sleeves, fitting his large and strong form. The sun setting casted a beautiful and ethereal glow to the quaint, little chapel. It was quiet as you slowly, but eagerly walk towards the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. In your hands clasped a beautiful bouquet of roses your husband-to-be picked outside the chapel as he waited for you to get ready for your impromptu little wedding.

The only sound you can hear was your heart beating as you near him, remembering how he asked you to marry him now, in front of God. You remembered how you said yes, because how and why would you say no when you were sure that this was once in a lifetime feeling, that you were sure that you would follow this man until the end of the world if he wanted to.

How could you say no when everything you ever wanted was waiting for you at the end of the aisle?

How could you say no when his eyes pleaded you to say yes and to take a gamble of life with him?

Camera flashes could almost blind him, if he was anything but a super soldier, as the media vied for his attention.

"Mr. Rogers, are you back for good?"

"Captain America, are you planning to resume your position in the Avengers?"

"Captain America, have you now settled your dispute with Tony Stark?"

"Mr. Rogers-"

"Captain America-"

He stepped up to the podium and took a look at the media one by one, flashing his charisma as if he was not gone for two long years without the whole media fiasco. He could easily return to the great Captain America persona, could easily slipped into the man who could charm the whole world with just his patriotic smile.

"Good evening. I would like to thank everyone for being here this late at night. I appreciate you taking your time to give an old man like me your time." This made the crowd chuckle, nothing in his appearance screams old. "To address your questions, yes. I am back for good. And yes, I am certainly ready to return to my position in the Avengers. There is no greater pleasure than to protect our nation and our citizens from harm."

His answers prompted a big cheer from the media, as well as the citizens watching from their homes. He had always known how to elicit a good response from the crowd, easily gaining their forgiveness from his so-called transgression a few years ago.

"What prompted your decision to make peace with the government and to return as a pardoned man, Captain?"

The crowd went silent as Steve looked down and took a deep breath. He took a moment before answering, his face full of anguish that made the crowd sad with him. He acted so heartbroken that everyone was fooled, everyone but you. You didn't know why but your heart was beating loudly, sensing something that would happen that for sure would not make you happy.

You know Steve like the back of your hand. But this man standing on the podium, that man you weren't sure you know. It was the other side of Steve that you only caught glimpses of when you were together. That dark side of him that he could summon whenever the situation arises to it. Or those rare moments when he thought he'd lose you.

He looked slowly but directly to the camera, his eyes showing sadness. Sadness you didn't know if it was genuine or a mere acting on his part. He took a deep breath "The reason why I came back, why I decided to make peace with our Government," he took a deep breath again before flashing his blue eyes to the camera, working the crowd on his side. "is because I am married."

The whole crowd went wild, camera flashes illuminating his sad form, questions were being shouted. Your heart stopped and you almost lost gripped of your wine. What. The. Fuck. Never in your wildest dreams did you think Steve Rogers would say that. In front of the media. For his advantage. Against you.

And as if that wasn't enough, he continued talking.

"And I know I had been a terrible husband, being away for two years, being away from my wife.. but that stops now. There is nothing I would love more than to be back in the Avengers and to have my wife back in my arms. And maybe, to start a family with her,"

What the fuck. Again. What the fuck? Wha-

"Captain, do you have a message for your wife?"

He smiled and looked at the camera once again, his blue eyes shining with dark promises, as if he knew that she was at home watching.

"I am coming back for you, my love. And this time, we will never be apart."

The crowd awed at him and his short but sweet message. But to you, it seemed like a promise, or a threat..

Your phone started ringing with calls and messages coming your way and you wanted nothing but to hide beneath a rock until he goes away from your life. For good.

Your white dress that ended below your knee looked divine on you. It was a simple but elegant dress that your fiancé immediately bought when he saw it on you a few hours ago. The wedding may not be a legal one, but Steve insisted it to be at least a formal one, with your white dress, with his white shirt, and your bouquet of roses.

The chapel bore no designs, seeing as time is of the essence, but it did not matter to you. What mattered most is the man in front of you looking at you with all the love in the world. He took your hand once you reached him at the end of the aisle, his smile was so sweet that you couldn't help but mirror his. He brought your hand to his lips and gently kiss the back of it.

"Thank you for doing this, my love." He murmured against your hand. "I love you."

"I love you, Steve."

How could you not do this for him?

You both faced the priest Steve found as he was waiting for you. To your surprise, the priest agreed to officiate your impromptu wedding.

"We are gathered here to witness the union of Steve Grant Rogers and Y/N Y/L/N. Do you Steve Rogers, accept Y/N as your wife, to love and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Steve held both of your hands and faced you, "I do." His voice was loud and strong in the empty chapel. He slipped on the ring he bought for you, the big diamond in a princess cut flashing to you. It was indeed flashy and everyone from a mile away could see you were already spoken for.

The priest repeated the words to you, you smiled up to him as he was waiting for your response. "I do," as soon as words left you, your Steve smiled so wide and so sincere. You slipped on his ring finger the wedding band you had chosen for him at the jewelry store a few hours ago, insisting that you pay for it but Steve did not let you. It was a simple silver band, with your name engraved inside it.

"I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers. You may now kiss your bride."

You turned to the man you were gonna spend the rest of your life with and looked up to him with full of adoration. He held your face with his large hands and kissed you. His lips warm, his grip on your nape tightened as he deepened the kiss.

No one knew you got married that day. Heck, even you knew it was not a wedding that would bind you legally. But at that time, it felt so real to you.

No one was aware of that day, only you and Steve, and the priest.

You didn't know how you were able to drive considering your current state. You were fuming mad after the initial shock you felt in your whole body as you watch him make that statement. You didn't know he'd do that, didn't know that he'd hold 'that' against you. It was an impulse decision really- you weren't thinking when you grabbed your keys, and drove to him. You were not even sure he'd be at your old shared house, but you had a hunch. And boy were you right. Parking haphazardly your car to the driveway, you almost didn't notice how neat the garden was. This wasn't the state of the house you were imagining seeing as it was vacated a year ago. The house looked as if it was freshly-painted, the garden trimmed and filled with flowers. You could see the lights from the house- good. He was here.

You were never the confrontational type, preferring to calm yourself down before talking. But not now. Now you needed someone to shout at- particularly that super soldier who opened the door when you banged your fist on the front door repeatedly. He caught your hand, effectively stopping you from banging the door.

"You asshole!" you struggled to pull your hand from his inescapable grip with no avail. "You abominable shit goblin!"

"I'm a what?" he sounded so confused, but you could hear a chuckle in his voice. He still wouldn't let go of you so you decided to punched him in whatever body part you could reach. His apparent amusement was making you try to punch him as hard as you could- which you knew you could only do because he was letting you.

"You sorry-excuse-of-a-soldier!" You were starting to get breathless, and annoyed so much because he was just standing there, not even sweating as he smirked down at you.

And so, you decided to knee him where it would hurt him the most, but before you could land a blow, he maneuvered his body away from you whilst effectively subduing your thrashings. His chest was pressed on your back, his massive arms around you as he waited for you to calm down.

"Tsk tsk," you could feel his warm breath on your neck, "What would happen to our future children if you hit me there, sweetheart?"

You could feel how damp his arms were, and that was the moment you became aware that he was naked, except for a pair of sweats he was wearing. Steve was fresh from the shower when he heard you banging on the front door. He knew you would seek him, he just didn't know it would be this soon. You froze and stopped struggling when you felt his lips on your neck.

"Are you calm now, my love?" he whispered. You took a deep breath and elbowed him, "Let go of me, you annoying human!"

He laughed, you could feel the vibrations from his chest as he hugged you closer before finally letting you go. He closed the door, his hand on your elbow as he lead you to the kitchen, not minding your struggling body.

"Also, what children? Hell will freeze before I carry your child, Rogers!"

He chuckled as you watched him put a glass of water in front of you. "That can be arranged." He pointed at the glass, as he poured himself a glass of water. "Drink. All that rage must have drained you. He leisurely drank his water, his eyes not leaving you over the rim of the glass. "So, what can you say about the house? It took me more than a month to clean the mess, fix the roof, restore the utilities so you won't have a problem when you come back."

Glaring at him, you could not for the life of you believe this man You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, "I though we came to an understanding, Steve. I told you I am saying goodbye to you! That I'm literally done. What was that bullshit you spewed in front of the media?"

"You said goodbye to me," He started, "I didn't accept it. You took my silence as an acceptance when that wasn't the case, love. You should know better by now, I'm not letting you go. I am your husband and I won't tolerate my wife looking at another man other than me." He said it so calmly that you acted before you could think. The whole house was so silent, except for the sound of glass shattering that you threw at his head to which he swiftly dodged while remaining so calm. You were breathing hard as you looked at him.

"That was not a legal wedding and you know it!"

"Who do you think the public will believe? You?" He stepped closer to you, his eyes so serious, "Or me, their Captain America who saved their lives countless times? Hmm?" You backed away from him, placing your hand to his chest to create some form of distance. "What do you think will happen to your precious boy toy if I decide to leak to the media how someone is trying to steal my wife away from me? What will happen to him?"

You admitted internally that you were scared. You knew at the back of your mind that Steve who was always calm with you, could be threatening to others he saw was a threat. You knew that he could be a tad bit possessive even back then we he thought that a man was trying to get your attention. But you never thought he could go as far as this. But you also knew he was in the wrong here. He left you, without even a warning sign. He just up and left, and now he had the audacity to act like a slighted husband? When you lived without him for two years? Oh no, sir. You weren't going down without a fight.

You smiled suddenly, which made him be on his guard as your mind was thinking of loopholes, “Honey, what you lack is a proof," You started pushing him away. "There was only you, me, and the priest that day. We didn't sign anything, there was no hard evidence that we got 'married' that day." You smiled triumphally, as your mind went back to that faithful day.

"Oh, don't I?" He looked up thoughtfully, his hand on his waist, his hand stroking his chin. His evil gaze found you again before he turned his massive back on you, and entered the room you knew used to be your office.

Not waiting for him, you decided to leave. You were walking to your car, feeling like what transpired was a point to you. You felt better than when you drove here. You were just starting you car when you saw him walking towards you. He oh-so calmly smiled and then winked at you from your windshield before kneeling down to stab your front tire with the knife hidden behind him. Your jaw slackened at him.

"Now try and leave." He mouthed at you.

It was a magical day that was only commemorated by a single wedding picture taken by the priest of you and Steve in front of the altar, his strong arm around your waist, you were looking at the camera with your red bouquet clasp in your hands, your ring shining. He was looking at you You were both smiling.

Only a single evidence of what occurred that day that you had printed and hanged in your supposedly shared home. A single evidence that you burned when you realized he was not coming back for you now matter how much you begged. A single evidence you had deleted on your device when you were moving on.

A single evidence you were now looking at inside Steve Roger's wallet as he showed you.

"No evidence, you say, my wife?"

----------------

Please take note that I give no permission for my work to be reposted or published anywhere other than on my Tumblr account.

“Cupcake, This has to stop. I’ve been supportive in your little experiments but its getting out of hand. You’re messing with genetic sequencing isn’t what we agreed on.”

There was a sharp edge to Tony’s voice. This wasn’t a request.

“Yeessss but…” you dragged the syllable longer, “but see I got the science of it down to an exact T.”

“No. You told me, you told me, that you’d be working at a dampener. Something that could stop an alpha rampage, no side-effects. You’re not even doing that! Attacking-” He was at loss for words, you were precious to them, to him.

Losing you to the government terrorist organizations was not an option.

“…Attacking Alpha-rho or Omega-rho cells for that matter, is not what we do here, it could be weaponized, do you know that? You’re smart enough to know that!” He was lecturing you. Again.

“Maybe if I were an Alpha I could tell whoever that don’t like it to go fuck themselves!” You snapped.

There was a sigh. Tony knew you had a stubborn streak. He liked that rebellious nature. He liked the spitfire that you were.

Epsilon-Omega, as rare as they come by, you always came in the mornings, fresh lilies in your arms. He swears you had some flower fidelity to lilies.

Just being near you, calmed the headaches that he had, the despise that he held for the world, the disgust, all of the feelings cleared, like the mornings of Spring. It wasn’t like being with other Omegas. It was a constant need of your attention, your affection.

He took a quick glance at you, noticing the sudden heaviness in the air. You dabbed your eyes with your sleeves, your lip quivering, your hand fisting on top of your thigh, gaze lowered.

It’s hard to talk to you when you looked like a kicked puppy. The vanilla and cocoa, now carried a mild musk in the scent notes. It was your mate’s scent.

Who was right now halfway across the world in a meeting with a whole bunch of people that Tony doesn't bother remembering. Steve was on his way to convince a whole lot of people why his wife and mate's not a threat to national security. That you won’t wake up one day and decide that you won’t play by their rules anymore.

This tethering to multiple underground market buzz. There had already been riots breaking out at a leak of this research program, protest from Alphas and Omegas from all sides, pro and anti.

“Cupcake, all of us... started like this... to save or repair what we see as damaged in the world. We just don’t want you getting hurt because of this.”

“So, you’re saying… that because of my work… Steve , you and…. everyone else is getting hurt?”

There was a lot of wrong in that sentence and … all of a sudden, realization dawned that he knew the exact sentiments behind what you just said.

“No… No. Cupcake, look at me. Leaving… would only make things worse, you hear me? You need to stay here where we’ll protect you. People are going to exploit-”

“What if I worked alone then?”

There was a long silence…. He had hit the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Your hands were tucked inside your coat pockets. Okay, you can do this.

“Y/n, where are you going?” He steps forward, blocking whatever opening you had to make it to the elevator. Unrelenting. He was livid and he wasn’t even bothering to hide the fact. You had difficulty breathing, whether it by sheer fear or the fact that he was making his aggression known through his scent. You felt powerless. You don't often feel powerless against an Alpha, being an Epsilon meant you could resist most of their commands. However, it was a different matter for your mate.

Steve wasn't an ordinary alpha, he's an Apex Alpha. Genetics that nature predominantly engineered to be a perfect pair for the Epsilon-Omega line.

You forced any signs of fear deep within he recesses of your bones. You had to calm him down. Fast. You had wrapped your arms around his middle. Leaned your head on his chest. “You’re late, I-I was lonely, I – I... just missed you…” Steve lifts your chin between his thumb and index. gaze, sure enough. Your teeth biting onto your lower lip. You’re lying.

It was so soft, so vulnerable, had it not been for his enhanced sense of hearing, he would have missed it. He buries his nose into your hair, the cloying scent of warm vanilla and cocoa, comfort of home. His home. His mate. His wife.

Your fingers played with the flap of his tie, distracting yourself.

“Then how ‘bout I help you with that hm?”

He was getting careless. The meeting dragged on longer than it had to, but he has to do it, in order to keep you safe.

Yet, here you were trying to leave.

You lied to him. He finds his resolve at trying to be a good and doting Alpha for you shattering taking along his restrain, his reason. The small cracks already forming as he thought that Stark's tower was already making you too liberal with your ideas. Perhaps the suburban side of the city will ease you out of them.

He yanked you hard, pressing you against him. His lips were on yours, rough, needy.

He took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit you. You whimpered, letting his tongue slip between your lips. He kissed you over and over again, sloppily making his way down your neck. He inhaled sharply before rasping out.

“Fuck I can’t wait anymore.” With practiced hands, he carelessly took off your clothes, you briefly heard the torn seam. Satisfied with your nakedness, he picked you up and carried you over to the bedroom.

Tossing you on the bed, a chaste kiss on your forehead before he stood up at the foot of the bed, removing his own clothes.

“Would you love me… if I wasn’t an Omega?”

His eyebrow quirked, where did this come from all of a sudden? He lifted your arms placing them around his shoulder as he made his way between your legs, grabbing the back of your thigh to rest them on his side.

“Hmm… Would you love me then? If I wasn’t an Alpha?” You seemed to take offense at that, sputtering a million things at once. He tried to suppress a smirk. You lightly ran your nails across his scalp, letting the soft brown curls run through your fingers.

His fingers dropped to the mound where your thighs and hips met. A soft sigh escaping your lips, he leaned down to kiss you again. His fingers rubbing against your wet slit, pushing two fingers into your needy cunt. Your cries getting louder.

The wet carnal noises that his mouth was making, moving further down your body. Your shoulders, no, no, no. You needed him now. Your arms around on his neck tightened…

“No, no, no, now, please… please.” You whined and moved your hips. He loved hearing you beg so prettily.

“So demanding.” he growled against your shoulder, fingers slipping out. With one quick thrust he buried himself completely in you. God, you needed this. You chewed on your bottom lip, missing the burn, the heat, his skin on yours. He drew his hips back, grunting as he fucks you.

He takes both your wrists in a brutal grip above your head, you were seeing stars with how hard you were being railed. A stray curl stuck on his forehead, skin glistening with sweat and you helplessly bucked against his thrusts.

“Tell me what you want, doll.” he panted, groaning as your walls clamped around him begging him to just fuck you into oblivion. He bit the fading scar on your neck, you all but wailed his name, he hissed, teeth clenched between your shoulder, your warm velvet like cunt spasmed around his cock like a vice.

Fuck he was close. His fingers dug into your wrist, it’ll definitely bruise. Held you in place while his cock pounded into you erratically, making small thrusts as he rode out his high, pumping his seed into your cervix.

“Good girl…” He kissed your face, breathing heavily while you mumbled something even his enhanced super-soldier hearing couldn’t make out.

You let your alpha manhandle your spent and boneless body, pulling you against him. You let sleep overcome you.

……. It was gone.

It was all gone. You walked into the lab, seeing the empty premise, your files, data, journals, all that there was on your work desk, an intricate crystal vase, a bouquet of fresh lilies. There was a note stuck on it.

‘I’m sorry Cupcake. Evebiotech is still your baby.”

You crumpled the paper in your hand, angrily tossing it across the room. Having a full-blown meltdown as you wiped your face of the stray tears that managed to escape. You started pacing, Evebiotech is just a subsidiary of Stark Enterprise, it meant that power of veto still comes from him, or whomever the fuck was the CEO of that subsidiary.

Damn you, Stark.

Your research, your work. You could barely believe it, you slumped against the wall, your knees giving out as you sat there on the marbled floor defeated.

You heard footsteps; you knew whose. You stood up shakily, the fall of your shoes going faster as you reached your saviour. Your small hands bunched at the front of his shirt. The floodgates open. Tears broiling through unabashedly.

“They- they took my work. Tony... he- Everything’s gone- journal – samples. St-Steve they- it's gone... ”

Your words made less and less sense and you were just overwhelmed, you felt your chest constricting. Your Alpha had pulled you into his arms. A sense of calm washed over you as he rubbed your back.

“Shh, it’s okay. Your work isn’t gone, it’s just moved to someplace else, they’ll handle it. They’ll synthetize it. It’ll take years before it can reach to general market. That’s what you wanted right?”

The warm pad of his thumbs brushed away the tears on your face, leaving a wet streak. You were in a daze as you met his patronizing gaze, he was smiling. Tucking a stray hair behind your ears.

What? You smiled back at him; a nervous feeling blooming but you can’t quite pinpoint as to why.

“How did you know it was moved?”

You hated how unsure you sound.

“Evebiotech… Stark made me CEO. That way I get to keep my eye on project Epsilon and on you.”

“You did this…”

Your accusatory glare behind your wet lashes made his jaw ache. A tick forming on his forehead. He wasn’t the bad guy, what is wrong with you? This is your own safety. Your future. He liked your little spitfire attitude, but enough is enough.

Before you could walk past him, his hand shot out, reaching to your head. He bunched his fist into your hair, twisting you, forcing you to look at him.

“The people I cared for were either experimented on or murdered for science. Hell is gonna have to freeze over before I let my mate suffer through either fate!”

What you saw, scared you, burned right into your long-term memory, he was spiraling, it was as if … as if this was how he is all along. If the dull ache forming in your skull was any indication that he was using more force than necessary to get his point across.

He released you, and your knees gave away. Slumping onto the floor. You didn’t know how to even react. What to feel.

“Pack your stuff, we’re moving.” Your heart was drumming so loud, you could hear it.

He released you, and you, burned right into your long-term memory, he was spiraling, it was as if ... as if this was how he truly was.

If the dull ache forming in your skull was any indication that he was using more force than necessary to get his point across. Who had you married, who was really your mate?

Your Alpha? The confusion, pain, threatened to consume you whole into this dark, unfeeling abyss.

“If you pull one of your stunts again like last night, I won’t be so gentle.”

His feet barely making a sound, he entered the room Sam had pointed and glanced around. The only light streaming in was from the windows, and Steve could see your silhouette moving against one. You were muttering to yourself, stumbling over your own feet as you moved about. He let his gaze wander around the room before fixing it on you again.

You hadn’t realized he was there yet, too lost in your own world. Stepping closer, Steve stood directly behind you and turned his flashlight over you, clearing his throat. You screamed, turning around to look at Steve with a frantic and guilty look in your eyes. Steve opened his mouth to set you straight when he finally caught sight of what you were doing, and he stood there dumbfounded.

It seemed like you were stealing soil. One of the display cases was smashed open and you were transferring the grey soil in there into a glass container in your hand. You stilled, stopping midway in taking more soil as Steve stared at you in utter confusion.

“What on earth are you doing?” He asked, flabbergasted. You gulped, tentatively sealing your jar and putting it back inside the small bag on your back. You stood before him, guilty as small child caught sneaking cookies from the jar. Steve turned his head a little as distant sounds of feet reached his ears. The cops were here.

Without waiting for your answer, he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him, his eyes narrowed at you. His arms went around your waist, tugging you right into his body as he silently maneuvered you both towards the exit door at the end, peeking out. Two armed cops were coming this way, the faint sounds of grunts telling him that Sam and Bucky had a few others engaged out in the hall.

“Hold on, and don’t scream.” He whispered in your ear and you nodded, holding him around his neck. He walked over to the window and looked down at the deserted street. Pressing your head into his chest, Steve took a deep breath and jumped out. The wind rushed through your hair and you muffled your scream into his shirt, nails digging in his flesh as he landed swift as a cat on the road.

Without wasting a second, he took you and jogged away, the dark not deterring his steps. You tried to keep up with his large strides, dread and thrill of the chase coursing through your veins. A minute later, a familiar black car pulled up before you, Sam grinning at you from behind the wheel.

“Oh honey, you are in trouble.” He smirked, letting you and Steve in the backseat. The police sirens faded away as you all drove back towards the Avengers compound, Steve’s hand still wrapped around your arm. You chanced a glance at him, shuddering at the sheer anger on his face. Shit. You were a goner.

Steve dragged you back towards his room, ignoring his giggling friends behind. You ducked your head and followed him in silence. It was never a good idea to argue with him. Once inside, he locked the door and turned to you, a frown deepening the lines on his forehead.

“What the hell have I told you about trying to escape?” He growled, body tight with tension. It had been a while since he’d been this pissed at you, and you shivered.

“I wasn’t escaping.” You said, nervously shifting on your feet. Steve came closer to you before tilting your chin you, making you look him in the eyes. His eyes were dark and hard, a promise of punishment rolling in them like waves in an ocean.

“Then what the hell were you doing in that museum? You ran away!”

You shook your head desperately, clutching his shirt in your hands. It had been months since you last tried to escape. You knew how futile it was to keep trying. You could never overpower Steve, not with Bucky and Sam always by his side. You’d made peace with your situation a while ago. Steve had snatched you, had kept you by force. And you accepted it as your life. You’d almost come to…enjoy it even.

“I promise you Steve, I didn’t run away.” You implored, looking deep into his eyes so he could see the truth in yours. Unless you did something really drastic, Steve rarely ever got angry with you these days. It was scary to have him so pissed again.

“What were you doing in that fucking museum?” He asked again. You bit your lip before pulling out the jar of soil from your bag, offering it to Steve. He looked at it and then your face, which curiously held embarrassment along with guilt there.

“I was stealing Lunar Soil.” You admitted, shaking the jar slightly so the fire particles in there shifted. Steve blinked at you before taking the jar and examining it, confused.

“Why?” He asked, putting it aside. You didn’t answer and he scowled, stepping closer and closer until he backed you into the wall and stared you down. Running a finger down the side of your face, he brought his lips to yours in a dangerously soft kiss, his other hand balanced beside your head. “You know I have ways to extract information from you. Would you rather I resort to them?”

You gulped, half in fear and half in anticipation. Steve’s punishments were as much a torture as they were pleasure. He was your captor, but he was also the man who would scale every corner of the earth to give you what you want. His body had a way of making you crave his touch, an intimate solace for whenever your mind turned to how helpless your situation really was.

“I – I wanted to –” You stuttered, suddenly shy and mortified. Steve hummed and urged you to go on, his hand gliding down your side to cup your ass. You slowly peered into his face, scrunching yours nose. “I wanted to use it to make moonscreen.”

Whatever he expected you to say, Steve did not expect it to be that. He raised a brow at you, silently asking you to elaborate and you flushed, pressing your face into his chest to hide from his screening gaze.

“Moonscreen, it’s like, you know, sunscreen but for werewolves.” You said at last. Steve’s hands stilled from kneading your ass, a sort of stunned silence between you both. And then he growled low in his chest. He pushed you away to face you, incredulously staring at you.

“Did you run away from my bed in the middle of the night to steal something for a mythical creature?”

You pouted, playing with the button on his shirt to avoid looking in his angry eyes. It was all Peter’s idea anyway, but he was too much of a wimp to steal the Lunar soil himself. It wasn’t fair how you were bearing the brunt of Steve’s anger alone.

“They are not.” You counted softly. “Werewolves exist.”

Steve gave a strangled groan before crashing his mouth on yours, digging his fingers in your soft flesh as he carried you to the bed and dropped you on it. You moaned, kissing him back as he tore through your clothes like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere, mouth leaving a trail of sinful fire as it moved from your shoulder to your chest.

Your hand went behind his head when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, back arching as you urged him to go faster. Wiggling, you untangled your pants from around your knees, wrapping your legs around Steve. He sat up and stripped quickly, covering your naked body with his again. There was a frenzy in his actions, an urgency to have you closer.

Quickly checking if you were wet enough, he entered you in one practiced thrust, tearing a cry from you. You whined, yours arms pulling him closer as he went in and out of you, roughly breathing with each stroke.

“You idiot girl!” He snapped, entwining your hands with his and pinning them beside your head. Sweat glittered on his hairline, his body rocking hard into you, sweet pleasure running down your spine and settling as heat in your womb. “You fucking dumb bitch!”

It seemed like he had a lot to say but just couldn’t. So, he showed you. He kissed you like he was sucking your very soul from your body, he fucked you as if branding you from within, he held you as if he could merge you into himself. Panting, softly cursing, Steve took you hard and fast, eliciting mewls and cries from you that fell like music on his ears.

“Mine. You are mine!” He said, but more as a statement than anything else. “You don’t leave me ever again. Never.”

The coil in your gut tightened, Steve letting one of your hand go to bring his to your bud and flick it with expertise. His eyes were fixed on yours, holding your very being hostage with his power. In a moan that echoed off the walls, you succumbed to his will, shattering below him and falling limp, floating in a haze of glittering pleasure. He buried his head in your neck, thrusting a few more times before finishing inside you, his cum flooding you within and warming your core.

You panted, sweaty and sated, wearing his marks and covered in him. He rolled over, taking you with him so you rested above, your ear over his chest that thumped with his strong heartbeat. Crazily, you found peace. In the hailstorm of your fucked up life, Steve was the one you held you together. He was the one who pushed you down, and he was the one who caught you as you fell. Your sanity, your insanity.

“If I ever wake up to you gone again, I’ll shackle you to me. You get it?” He murmured, running a hand over your back. You nodded, shifting closer into the warmth of his body. He grunted in approval, pulling a sheet over you before he got up to bring a cloth to clean you.

Kneeling before your legs, wiping gently and softly tracing your folds, Steve murmured soft words of love and praise and apology. He kissed your abused hole, the inside of your bruised thighs, the mass of your belly and the softness of your breast. He kissed your eyes and your nose, reaching your mouth the last.

“What is my truth?” He asked, dressing you into soft pajamas and cradling you into his lap. You relaxed into his touch, head on his chest.

“That you love me, and you’ll never apologize for that.” You answered. In the most bizarre way, you did believe he loved you. And though his love wasn’t perfect or without pain, it was what got you through his darkness that confined you here by force.

“And what is your truth?” He asked, lips on the crown of your head. You closed your eyes, listening to the beating of his heart that matched yours.

“That I am yours.” You said, sleep creeping over you in a beautiful embrace. Shifting you in his arms, Steve laid you down and spooned around you, hands covering your own. You wiggled, pressing your bum into Steve’s groin, and smiling at the catch in his breath.

You floated towards oblivion, a dream already encroaching over your consciousness when you sleepily called out to Steve. He hummed, squeezing your hands gently.

“Werewolves are real.” You muttered and before he could so much a snort out a laugh, you were snoring.

Steve smiled into the darkness, running his thumb over the back of your hand. The panic of your disappearance earlier was replaced by fondness, his heart full of love for you. No, he would never apologize for how he had taken you. Just like the lunar soil sitting on your nightstand was still a part of the moon, no matter how far apart, you were always going to be a part of him. That was your truth, both of yours.

“Hey Steve” You greeted, leaning against your door and tilting your head to the side. He’d always found this action very cute. He said it made you look like a little bird.

“Hey.” He breathed, raising his eyebrows hopefully and awkwardly gesturing to ask if you’d let him in. You chuckled and stepped to the side, letting him in before closing the door. Standing nervously in the middle of the hall, Steve looked around. He’d never actually been inside your home before, only dropped you outside on a couple occasions.

“So…” You said, stretching the word out. “How are you? What brings you here?”

He had been looking at your pictures on the wall, smiling as he caught a framed degree certificate between them. He remembered you saying that you’d quit since law school was too demanding, but it seemed like you’d powered through after all.

“Congratulations” He said, jerking his head to your certificate. You grinned, still curious but as ease in his presence. Steve wondered why there wasn’t even the slightest lingering awkwardness in your stance while he stood before you vulnerable. It wasn’t every day you met your occasional lover after more than a year like this.

You nodded your thanks but did not speak, waiting for him to tell why he was suddenly at your doorstep again. He gulped audibly before flexing his fingers, looking straight in your eyes and spoke before he lost his nerves.

“I need you to let me fuck you again so I can be good at sex.”

You had not seen him in over a year and even before that, there hadn’t been much between you both other than few passionate nights and a mutual respect for the work you guys did. You’d only been a paralegal in Tony Stark’s legal team, but with how often these superheroes got in trouble, you’d crossed paths with Steve way more than you expected.

It didn’t take much to be attracted to him. He’s got the looks and the personality, kind of like the ideal man one would want to date. He opened the door for you and pulled out the chair, was always polite and respectful unlike the other rich white men you worked with. It was so easy to get lost in his charm and when the opportunity presented itself to explore that attraction, you’d never said no.

Both of you had only wanted to let off some steam and have fun, too busy in your life and work to do much. He had the world to save and you were juggling law school along with a very demanding job, so it was an unsaid agreement that this was nothing serious. It was great while it lasted, some of the best sex you’d ever had, and you think you could safely say that you ended that arrangement as friends. So, to see him before you asking for another fuck was the last thing you expected.

“Excuse me?” You dumbly said, blinking at him incredulously. Steve sighed, pacing before you with his hands raised as if to stem any protests coming from you.

“Just listen to me before you kick me out.” He said, looking agitated. “I – I need to fuck you. I really do.”

You waited, watching his mouth open and close but he said no more. Watching him struggle for words, a man normally so put together, you took pity on him and asked him to take a seat. As he shifted on the cushion of your couch, you got him a glass of water and sat across from him, looking at him expectantly.

Steve sipped on the water, taking deep breaths. In all the time you’d known him, he had never been so flustered and nervous before. In a way, it was endearing. The supersoldier was just as human as the rest of you all.

“I – I am getting married.” Steve said finally, tracing the rim of his almost empty glass and avoiding your eyes.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You want to fuck me because you’re getting married?” You asked him, a smirk curling at the corner of your lips. “There are other ways of dealing with cold feet than sleeping with your ex-lover, Steve.”

He looked up at you with a frown, not finding your teasing the least bit amusing.

“Can you not make this so difficult for me? I’m getting to the point.” He grumbled.

You chuckled, agreeing to cut him some slack and leaned back in your seat, waiting for him to elaborate. He drowned the remaining water in his glass before putting in on the table, fingers tapping on his thighs in a nervous tic.

“My fiancé” He began “is not happy with me. She – god, I can’t get her to come.”

He said that so fast that you almost missed it. Your mouth dropped open a little and Steve groaned, hiding his face in his hands. Now you understood why he was so embarrassed being at your doorstep.

“Steve” You said delicately, reaching over the small coffee table separating you and squeezing his knee. “Hey, look at me. You know you can talk to me with no judgements.”

He didn’t speak for a minute and then reluctantly peeled away his hands from his face, looking at you with an expression of utmost helplessness.

“I used to be good at sex. I mean, with you – I will die of shame if you tell me you faked it.” He said almost pleadingly and you felt a laugh bubble in your throat. The very notion was laughable. Steve Rogers bad at sex? You had, on more than one occasion, described him as a sex demon to your girlfriends. If you had to be honest, that had been one of the best sex of your life.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You incredulously said, shaking your head at him. “You, not making me cum? Steve, you made me nut by sucking my nipples too good. I have never faked anything with you, let alone an orgasm which you had been very generous in supplying I must say.”

You could visibly see the tension fall away from him and for the first time today Steve relaxed. His shoulders dropped out of relief and his bunched muscles relaxed, a content look coming over him. He reached over and squeezed your hand in a silent thanks as he basked in the assurance of his sexual prowess.

“I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear that.” He said, leaning back and looking up at your ceiling. “I made the mistake of asking Tony for his advice and the next day I had a box full of sex toys that are probably illegal in about seventeen countries, and a fully illustrated copy of the Kamasutra. It was in Sanskrit, Y/N, I don’t even speak Sanskrit!”

You couldn’t help it, you started giggling. You’d not worked for Tony for over a year, but you remembered how eccentric he could be. Though, if you think about it, his advice might not be that far off the mark.

“Did you use any of those toys?” You asked. Steve frowned at you, half pained and half offended.

“Even if I could figure out which strap went where over the body, I would not use it. You just said I could make you cum, so obviously I have a fully functional dick and hands.” He said gruffly. You made a face at him, one you used to make often when he talked politics and ruined your post orgasmic mood.

“Steve” You said slowly, as if talking to a child. “Using sex toys doesn’t mean you’ve got a broken penis. It just means you’re willing to explore new ways to pleasure yourself and your partner. It’s fun and exciting. I mean, you could make me cum just fine with missionary, but I seem to recall that you were particularly fond of the doggy style. Why try different positions at all if one works? Because its hot and fun, just like good sex is supposed to be.”

“So what, you think I’ve gotten bad with sex?” He asked, a little anger creeping in his voice. You rolled your eyes at him, slumping in your seat and fixing him with a piercing gaze.

“No you idiot, I mean that maybe your fiancé likes something else in bed. You need to talk to her about it and figure out what you can do to make it better for her. Simple as that.” You said, a little bemused because sex therapy for an avenger was not down in your calendar.

Steve pressed his thumbs on his temples and covered his eyes with his fingers, a strangled sort of noise emanating from his chest.

“We did talk. And she said that I am bad in bed. I haven’t so much as kissed her since then and she won’t talk about it.” He moaned. Then, he scooted forward and took your hand in his, a pleading look in his eyes. “That’s why I need you to let me fuck you. You can tell me what’s wrong.”

You stared at him for a moment before you uncertainly shook your head.

“Steve, you’re engaged. You don’t want to cheat on her simply because your sex life has problems. Go to a sex therapist and figure this shit out.” Honestly, you’d never thought Steve would ever cheat on anyone. This was so out of character for him.

“Fuck this engagement!” He spat out and shot up, pacing. “It’s more or less an arranged marriage. Daughter of that minister who is on the committee for amending the accords. Fury has basically said that this marriage would save the future of the Avengers. It’s a goddamn alliance but I’ve tried to make it as bearable as I could. I am good to her, I promise, but this thing, it’s messing up all chances of a healthy relationship.”

He sounded so sad and broken then, even in his anger. Anybody who knew Steve could tell how much he resented being pushed into a corner and forced to abide by things he didn’t believe in. He looked at you with eyes that were thirsty to be understood again, a bid to achieve some freedom in his own way. He wasn’t just asking you to sleep with him, he was also asking you to let him let lose so that he could salvage enough of himself to keep going on with this task without breaking.

You stood up and offered him your hand, silently leading him to your bedroom.

She was an idiot, you decided. Steve’s lips had touched yours only briefly and yet they lit a fire in your belly. How could she not be turned on by a man such as him? He had you trembling and you’d barely began.

“Oh god, I forgot how good you could be Steve.” You said, running a hand through his hair as he sucked a path down your hair and to your breast. You moaned, a sound of pure pleasure as his warm mouth covered your hardened bud and suck gently, the slightest hint of teeth grazing it occasionally. Pushing out more of your chest into his mouth, you roamed your hand across the expanse of his back, tracing the few scars that were too deep to be completely healed even with the serum in his veins.

His hold on your body was possessive and tight, sure to leave bruises as he squeezed your curves with groans leaving his mouth. His hips, still covered by his boxers were humping against your thigh, a sinful need settling in your bones for him. Steve has a body larger than most, and his dominating personality just made him appear all the more bigger. You felt completely surrounded by him, his body demanding cooperation and response from yours.

“Fuck me!” You cried as his teeth sank under your breast and his chuckle fanned against your sweaty skin. “How the hell isn’t she begging for you when you do this?”

He stopped suddenly, looking up at you from under his hair that has fallen over his forehead.

“I – she doesn’t like it when I bite her. I have never done this to her.” He admitted, feeling weird talking about his sex life with another person when you were naked under him. You pushed against his shoulder, scooting up a little and wrinkling your brow.

“You don’t do this to her?” You asked and face palmed when he shook his head. “Then, you utter 6 feet 2 inches of blond moron, why the fuck are you doing this to me? Fuck me like you fuck her so that I can tell you what’s wrong. Honestly, dangle pussy before men and they become dumber than a box of rocks.”

Steve sneered, put out by your behavior but he nodded nonetheless, continuing his journey south of your body with a change in his energy. You sighed in pleasure as he licked a trail towards your moist center, his tongue delving between your folds to taste your moisture. You jerked, a smile curving on your lips because few men ate pussy like Steve. He was positively ravenous.

He started small, kissing your clit and sucking it in his mouth softly, gently easing a finger in your slit and rubbing your walls. You moaned, urging him on as his tongue toyed with your engorged bud, and yet he went soft. It was not bad, in fact, it was good but not good enough somehow. The ravenous pussy eating didn’t happen, and you became more frustrated as he alternated between kitten licks on your clit to sucking it in his mouth.

Groaning in frustration, you fisted his hair and pulled him up to you again, noting his grimacing features. “That’s how you eat her? What the fuck happened to you?” And then, just to make sure this was still the same man, you flung down his boxers and pulled out his cock. Oh yes, it was definitely the same man because you could tell this huge battering ram that he carried between his legs was unique only to him. He was large and heavy, just as beautiful with an angry weeping head as you remembered.

“Your tongue was disappointing, let’s hope your cock can make up for it.” You said, voice harsh with lust. Steve scowled, an angry darkness joining the lust blown shade of dark blue in his gaze and he positioned his tip at your entrance. It seemed like he was about to plow in with a powerful thrust and yet he held himself back, sliding into you slowly and deliberately, mashing your bodies together.

A positively pornographic moan left your lips, eyes closing at the feeling of being stretched around his girth. It had been far too long since he’d been inside you and opened you this wide. The burn felt nice, and you couldn’t wait for the pounding that always came with Steve. You wouldn’t be walking for a few days for sure, but it’s a pain you enjoy.

Your nail dug into Steve’s shoulder, legs wrapping around his thick frame and heels urging his to keep moving. His breath was laboured as he pulled back and thrust in again, slow and gentle. He kissed you softly as he eased in and out of you and just like before, it was good, it was amazing, yet somehow not enough.

“Steve, go faster.” You urged, meeting his thrusts by titling your hips up.

“Can’t, she doesn’t like it. Says it hurts.” He said, face twisted into one of extreme restraint. His whole body was taut with tension under your hands, and he was moving inside you with purpose and yet the moment seemed lost. You realized what the problem was, a sad feeling in your gut because now you knew what was wrong.

You cupped his face, smoothening the lines on his forehead gently as you kissed him. Wrapping your legs around his thighs, you prompted him to turn over so you were on top. Still inside you, he slid in deeper in this position and let out a groan, visibly struggling to not take you like he did before.

“Listen to me now” You said softly, taking the lead and bouncing on his cock, gradually picking up the pace. His eyes were open, fixed at where his cock disappeared inside you in quick successions and he groaned. Large hands cupped your breasts and squeezed, trailing over your sweaty body in appreciation.

“This is now how I take her.” He choked out, too lost in pleasure. He was still holding back, still keeping his power in check.

“I know, and I don’t think you ever can.” You kindly explained, feeling his chest ripple under your fingers and you softly pinched his nipples. “But there is nothing wrong with you or with her. You hear me?”

His head was thrown back and eyes closed, the feeling of you riding him has a hunger building that he’d kept at bay for months now. You leaned forward, kissing his jaw and nipping, waiting until his eyes were open and meeting yours.

“Let go Steve, let go. I am here and I can take you. Let go baby.” You murmured softly and Steve growled, crushing you to him as his hips pushed up into you, the tension snapping away as he fucked you with abandon and without care. Rolling you under him, he took you like a man possessed, spearing into you so hard that he hit your cervix. Your voice rose as pleasure and pain combined, his moans matching your whimpers as he let his restraints fall away.

“Oh god” He said, almost sobbing as he finally gave his body what it needed. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass until his bruises were burnt in your skin, teeth leaving deep marks across your neck and chest, cock moving inside you in a most sinful way. Steve Rogers lost himself in your body and found himself.

When you came, you clamped around him like a vice, sucking him inside you with no intention to let go. He fucked you through your high, rubbing against your still pulsing walls until his balls tightened and he twitched inside you, filling you to the brim with his warm essence. You panted, holding onto him and letting him lay on your body, running a hand through his hair with care.

Steve’s face was buried in your neck, his breath gradually returning to normal and then his eyes found yours. They were misty, and you could understand what he felt like. Months of self doubt and self esteem issues had almost drove him to the point of insanity, and finally finding himself again, he felt relieved. Reborn in a way.

“Thank you.” He said softly, kissing the corner of your mouth. You smiled, tugging him to your side so he could rest. There was time to talk later.

“So, what exactly is wrong?” Steve asked, sipping on his coffee. You both were dressed but still lounging in your bed, relaxed.

“Truly, it’s nothing. You both are perfectly okay. It’s just, sometimes people have different sexual preferences Steve. From what you’ve shown me, she prefers sex that is unhurried and soft, gentle and immersive. Nothing wrong with that.” You said, brushing away the cookie crumbs that were on your fingers.

“But I am all she wants. I do it like she wants it to be. You saw it!” He was getting frustrated and you understood. You gave him a sad smile, patting his hand.

“Yes, but that’s not you Steve. You hold back when you are with her. You keep her from seeing the true you because you’re so strong and powerful and don’t want to hurt her. When you are with her, you try to be who she wants you to be, and that makes you lose your own self. You aren’t actually with her even though you are inside her body.”

You weren’t sure he was getting what you said so you scooted closer, taking his mug from him and placing it on the nightstand so you could hold his hands.

“Steve, slow sex is rewarding in its own way. Some say they have more powerful orgasms that way. But for that, there needs to be an intimacy between the partners. You need to be one in mind and heart too to enjoy that. What you and she have, its clinical. There is no connection and with no intimacy, that sex feels impersonal and cold. It’s not your fault or hers. Some people just don’t have that chemistry.”

He blinked before nodding, swiping a thumb over the back of your hand as he looked thoughtful.

“I can’t love her.” Steve said, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “She is beautiful and kind, funny too. But I can’t love her. Trust me I tried, but I don’t feel anything other than friendship if even that. Our relationship is an obligation and I don’t think she loves me either.”

You nodded, letting him vent. There was a time two years ago when you’d broken down after sex, sobbing into Steve’s chest about how stressed you were. You were casual lovers, but he had listened to you with the delicacy of a friend and allowed you the dignity to never mention it again after that. Today, you returned that favour because even the strongest of the men deserved to break down.

“How are you just supposed to love someone? Is the ring on her finger going to make me love her? Will she love me if I can make her cum? I don’t know what to do Y/N. I took her out on dates, I got her flowers, I tried to be a good lover and fiancé. And yet, things are fucked up. What the hell do I do?”

He hung his head before looking at you and crawling into your lap, arms wrapped around your thighs. You knew what he had to do, and you knew that he knew that too. Running a hand through his hair, you settled back and closed your eyes. When one made difficult choices, they needed friends to fall back on. You were determined to be one for him.

He had more of less moved in your house, one part of your almirah dedicated to what clothes he left behind. Fury hadn’t taken well to the wedding being called off and though Tony understood Steve’s reasons and supported him, he was still being salty about how complicated stuff had gotten with the government. The night Steve called the wedding off, he showed up at your doorstep again, drenched in the pouring rain outside.

Since then, he’d been here all too often, complaining about Fury breathing down his neck to reconsider as well as the other Avengers silently judging him for not taking one for the team. You didn’t mind lending an ear or your space, for you enjoyed his company and wanted to help.

“Want some more?” Steve asked, gesturing at your empty plate. You shook your head and continued to read your case briefing. He liked cooking for you as a payment for letting him stay and who were you to say no to fresh, warm meals every day?

You both worked in comfortable silence, him on his avenging troubles and you on your cases. You were worried it would be a little awkward considering you’d slept with him just a couple weeks ago, but surprisingly things went smoothly between you two.

“So uh, what are you doing tonight? Wanna go to the new restaurant that opened nearby?”

Shaking your head, you tutted without looking at him. You were neck deep in work and either way, you already had plans. “Can’t tonight. I need to work on this deposition and then I have a date with Richard.”

The pen in Steve’s hand snapped. You looked up startled, raising a brow as he grabbed tissues to wipe the ink leaking on his hands. He cleared his throat, dabbing at the ink long after it was dry on his skin before he looked up at you with mouth half open.

“I uh, sorry. Sometimes I forget my own strength.” He apologized then got up to wash his hands in the kitchen. You could hear him mumbling something under his breath, and you stopped working to watch him in interest. Steve was terrible at being subtle, and you could see him fumbling and struggling with his words.

“Steve.” You called out, “what is it?”

He turned off the water and faced you with pursed lips, a troubled expression on his face. Wiping his hands on the towel, he leaned against the sink and shook his head.

“I don’t like it.” He said sullenly. “You going on a date. I thought we were, you know, getting along.”

Realization dawned on you and you heaved a deep breath. Maybe you’d spoken too soon. Things weren’t as smooth between you both after all. Steepling together your fingers, you gazed at Steve, trying to decide how to approach this with him.

“Steve, we are getting along. But only as friends. What happened between us, that was just me trying to help you. Please tell me you understand that.” You said softly, hoping he would understand. He bit his lip before taking the seat across from you, looking defeated.

“I know you were helping me then, but we could be more. We have chemistry. You must have felt that too.”

“Of course, I did Steve,” You said, putting your papers aside to give him your undivided attention. “But there are other things more important that sexual chemistry. What I feel with Richard is different. We connect intellectually and emotionally too, not just physically.”

Richard and you had been law students together, where you had occasionally hooked up. It was only recently where you’d felt the budding romance between you both, something that transcended the feelings of what happened in a bedroom. You craved conversations about law cases with him as much as you did his kisses. Things were looking really good for you, and you really hoped Steve would see that, otherwise things would get awkward very fast.

Steve was silent for a few minutes before he gave you a tight smile and nodded. You hesitantly smiled back because you kind of understood where Steve was coming from. You’d been his rock in the shitstorm his life had turned into, so it was natural for him to hold onto you. But you were sure he’d be back to himself in a few days. He still had a lot of other friends to rely on and life would definitely take a better turn soon.

“So, we’re good?” You tentatively asked and Steve nodded. He mumbled something too soft for you to hear before picking up his stuff and getting back to work. You looked at him in between your own work, finally convinced that he’d be okay. You just needed to get done with your own things before Richard came to pick you up.

It had been a good while since you’d been out on a proper date. You had put a little more effort in your appearance, wearing something that made you feel confident and beautiful. Richard would be here soon, and you took one final look in the mirror before exiting your room. Steve was still in the living room, talking to someone on his phone when he caught sight of you. His eyes took you in from top to bottom and he flashed you a beautiful smile in appreciation.

“Alright Sam, I’ll call you later. Let me know what Tony said.” He finished and hung up. Tilting his head to the side, he regarded you almost dreamily.

“So?” You prompted, twirling for him. You felt like a teenager, but you really were looking forward to this date. Tonight had a feeling about it, something intoxicating in the air. You couldn’t wait.

“You’re simply gorgeous” Steve said breathlessly and you grinned at him in thanks. Glancing at the clock, you quickly checked if you had everything you needed before you left.

“Don’t wait up for me. I’ll call if I will get late.” You said to Steve, nervously fixing your hair as you waited for Richard to arrive. You wondered if he’d be old school and get you flowers. Should you find a vase to place them just in case? But no, this wasn’t your first date. He wouldn’t get you flowers, you’ll be fine. But what if he did?

You were lost in your thoughts so it took you a minute to notice Steve had moved up and was leaning on the wall next to you, a smile still intact on his face. You turned your face away, feeling sheepish. Your jittery nerves were obvious to everyone.

“God you’re so cute.” He said, one of his hand coming up to stroke the apple of your cheek. You jerked back it surprise, raising a brow at him as he kept that same besotted smile on his lips.

“Steve?”

He didn’t register your shocked tone, rather, he pushed away from the wall and advanced on you. Standing right before you, he took hold of your shoulder, bringing you closer to himself.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. About having something more than physical.” He said, his face inching closer until he was eye level with you. “I think you’re wrong. What we have is more than chemistry of flesh. I think I love you.”

An earthquake wouldn’t have rocked you as much as his words did. There was just something about Steve Rogers being mere inches away from you, confessing his love to you that made your blood turn to lead. He was looking at you softly, as if you held the answer to every mystery he had ever sought, and for the first time he scared you. He appeared so big.

“Steve, please.” You said, voice slightly quivering. You took a step away but Steve followed, rejecting your efforts to put space between you both. His fingers, thick and strong, dug into your arms to hold you steady.

Your agitation was clear on your face, and he gently shushed you. He didn’t look scary, but he felt that way. “Hey, I will never hurt you. You know that, right?” His voice was soft, eyes tender too. You questioned your own emotions for a moment, wondering if you were reading him wrong. Steve was your friend, you both trusted each other. And yet, he seemed like a stranger right now.

“Steve, I – I need to go. Richard would be here soon.” You said, wiggling in his hold. His lips curved in a mocking tilt and he leaned down until his lips were only a few centimeters from you.

“Oh yes I know, I hope he’ll stay around to hear.”

“Hear what?”

“Hear us.”

His lips pressed against yours swiftly, stifling your protests. You whined, hands curling into fists and thudding against his chest. Taking hold of both your wrists, he pushed back until you were against the wall, hands pinned on either side of you. You panted once he pulled away, his lips shining and pink, eyes alight.

“Get off, Steve.” You snapped, chest heaving in anger and alarm. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Proving a point.” Steve said, licking his lips. “You said we don’t have emotional connection, but I’ll prove you wrong. You’ll see.”

Before you could argue, he kissed you again, kneading your lips with his, coaxing a response from you with his tongue. You hummed against his mouth, unable to get a word out. His hands released yours, instead roving over your back and stopping on your ass, fondling you. As his lips traveled to your jaw, he hitched you up until your legs dangled in air, forcing you to wrap them around his waist. A tear brimmed in your eye, travelling down the curve of your cheek and Steve collected it in his mouth, nudging his nose against yours.

“Look at me baby, tell me you don’t feel what I feel.” He whispered tenderly, and you shook your head at him. A sob was bubbling in your throat, threatening to burst forth when Steve carried you towards the bedroom. His strength was far greater, and you helplessly let him lower you on your bed, his body hovering over yours.

“Why?” You brokenly cried, pulling at the sheets.

“Because we have what it takes.”

He stripped you naked with gentle touches, his lips and hands everywhere. With every inch of skin Steve bared, he kissed you reverently before whispering a word of praise. His lips went south, uttering “gorgeous”, “so beautiful”, “so strong”, “so kind”, “my best girl” in their wake. As he loved you, you hated yourself. The self-hatred came acrid and strong with every drop of moisture that gathered in your core, with every breath you sucked at the touch of his skin and every mewl you couldn’t hold back. Steve was doing what he promised to: showing you how good he could be.

You tried one last time to get away, twisting your torso to roll away from him when he grabbed you pinned you to the mattress. His grip was firm but not painful. “Don’t run away”, He pleaded, as if it was hurting him as much to keep you hostage. “Let me show you my love, let me give you the night of tenderness you never though we could have. Please.”

The kiss was wet and salty from your tears, and you sobbed helplessly in his mouth as he finally got you both naked and bare. His touch was electric, fingers digging deep into your skin to massage, mouth running hot over your curves and leaving a trail of love bites that stung so good. You keened under him, hands free to roam his sweaty body as you panted. He made sure to keep looking into your eyes, always holding your gaze as he licked your nectar and worshiped you. You couldn’t decide what was more intimate; his tongue inside you or the way he gazed into your soul and threatened to pull you into his own.

You came undone twice under his ministrations, writhing in ecstasy that though unwanted were far from unpleasant. Lust and need mingled with reluctant affection as Steve finally positioned his tip at your opening, gazing at you so softly you wondered how you had missed his feelings before.

“I don’t even need to slide inside you to make you mine. If you could look at yourself now, you would fall in love with your own self just like I did. Take me Y/n, and I dare you to say that we’re not one in mind and heart.”

He slid in smooth and slow, languidly letting you feel every inch of his cock that rubbed against your walls. Your nails raked down his back, leaving red streaks that he would wear as an honor come morning. Nobody had fucked you like this before. Not those inexperienced boys from school, nor those lusty men from work or college. Not even Richard. Steve didn’t want to own you because he already did. He possessed you with touches and words and the look in his eyes, bending your will to his as he thrust inside you sensually.

“Steve,” You moaned, unable to keep inside the feelings that bubbled in you. “Oh god, Steve. I – I can’t…”

You trailed off and Steve nodded, as if he understood what you couldn’t say. His lips covered yours, tongue mapping the inside of your mouth in sync with his cock. You were soaked in sweat and his scent, covered in his kisses and caresses that seemed to linger in a physical reminder over your skin. If this was what love felt like, it was a beautiful, hateful thing.

“Let go my darling, let go. Fall apart and I’ll catch you my sweet. I’ll fly with you.” He promised and you clenched around him, shuddering in pleasure as his name escaped you in a breathy whisper. He slowed down, making the final thrusts long and deep before twitching inside you, spent.

Closing your eyes, you let your tears stream free, your arms still around Steve and refusing to let go. He broke you, but right now he was what kept you whole. You couldn’t let him leave, couldn’t let him go away. As you cried in protest when he tried to move away, he shushed you with gentle presses of his lips on your temple, fingers scratching on your scalp.

“I am here my love, right here.” He said, and you looked into his eyes that were full of unshed tears. Something had transformed him as much as you, and you hated yourself and him equally in that moment. “I’ll clean us up, okay? I won’t leave.”

Allowing him to move from your embrace, you curled into the sheets and sobbed in confusion. This shouldn’t have happened, you shouldn’t want him back. He took you without asking, he was a beast. So, what did that make you? The beauty that fell in love with his gentle loving and hypnotic looks? You didn’t know and didn’t understand, but when Steve came back with a damp cloth and your night wear, you reached out to him pathetically.

“I got you sweetheart.” He said, tending to you softly. As he bundled you in blanket, your thought strayed once to Richard, and you wondered if he heard you. You didn’t care. Your befuddled mind shutdown a little as Steve spooned around you, enclosing you in his strong arms and nuzzled your head.

You were scared out of your mind, your heart breaking as it remembered the pain it felt when he left you. Was that the case again? You just got him back, your heart had just started mending, would he be so cruel to make you go through that again?

A loud knock on the door startled you from your thoughts. You looked at your watch, it had just gone seventeen minutes past twelve and you were not expecting any guest or patient. Thinking that it just might be Wanda asking you out for a drink, you opened the door. The phone you were holding in your hand slipped from your grasp, your heart beating so fast you felt lightheaded. The man in front of you caught your phone before it even reached the ground- all without removing his eyes from yours. Everything felt like in a slow motion. Nothing and no one, and you meant it, could have prepared you for who was standing in front of you.

"Sweetheart?" He began, his large hand lifted to touch your face. "I have missed you, my love."

Before you knew it, your arms were thrown on his shoulder, hugging him with all your might. "Where have you been?" You were starting to notice the disheveled look he was sporting, his face with bruises, his gear with dried blood and dirt.

"What happened to you?"

He smiled at you, "Doesn't matter. I'm home now, my love."

Steve basked in the affection you were freely giving him. This was what he wanted, what he craved. You, without any reservation. He would go through it again if it meant having you in his arms like this. Steve thought back to the mission. It was, at first an easy one. But you needed the push. You needed to experience life without him again, for you to make up your mind. And so, he took a drastic measure. He manipulated the situation, claiming to Sam that the mission needed intense surveillance, that the root of the operation had to be pulled for peace to come. It wasn't hard, Sam trusted the captain. Bucky, though, on the other hand, looked at him with knowing eyes. He knew just how crazy he could be. He had removed himself from your orbit, making you think he was gone, for you to miss him. And so he decided to pursue the mission until the end, until all the operations of the bad guys were trampled on by him. Not included in the mission, true, but who would berate him?

After all, he did it for the safety of the world.

After all, he did it for you and him.

He brushed away the tears that were falling from your eyes. Good, you were crying for him. He looked intently at you.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your tears wouldn't stop falling, as you leaned in and kissed his lips. "I love you, Steve. So much." You whispered against his lips, your eyes closed as you took him in.

"We'll never be apart, again. I promise."

You didn't see the smirk he unconsciously made as you embraced him tighter.

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Please take note that I give no permission for my work to be reposted or published anywhere other than on my Tumblr account.

REBLOGS ARE MUCHOOO APPRECIATED!!! If you made it this far, comments are highly appreciated!  Also, I don’t own the Marvel and any of their work, this is just purely a fanfiction written by a fan who has a huge crush on Steve :)

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