northbound by starlight

Steve Rogers was not the man someone gave orders to. But you were you and Steve was just a man.

Your man.

The satin slip enticed him, your pebbled peeking though the top — begging to be taken in his mouth. Your eyes half lidded, your lips curved in a wicked smirk, you knew exactly how to get him to fold.

The man with a plan now only had one in his mind, to be used by you.

To be played by you.

To be owned by you.

“Don't you trust me baby?”

He took a breath, looking at the surroundings—the candle flickering on the nightstand, the faint smell of something floral, maybe roses, lingering in the air. The bite of cold making his hair stand on his arms— he trusts you, more than anyone else.

In what world would he not obey you?

He falls down to his knees, hands taking their place in his lap. The captain taking orders from his wife.

The mightiest of the men, the savior of the planet— now reduced to a mess, existing only and only for your pleasure.

You smile devilishly, leaning forward from where you were seated on the bed to be face to perfect face with him. His eyes run all over your face— not knowing where to look first— ultimately falling to your exposed chest.

“Such a bad boy….” Running your fingers through his dirty blond locks, you tug at the roots, neck straining as his gaze returns back onto your face , “Just can't help yourself, huh? Keep your pretty eyes on mine Captain.”

“Tell me Stevie, did you touch yourself? Out there. All alone. Was your cock weeping for me when you played with it?”

His bottom lip wobbled as he tried to muster up a reply. Your fingers caressed his stubbled cheek, thumb brushing over his lip, coaxing out the truth you knew so well.

“No... no, I didn't.”

Satisfied with his answer, you push your legs over the edge—over his shoulders. Your feet lock themselves around his neck as you pull him in closer to where you need him the most.

“I must reward you then, hmm? Go ahead… take your fill, baby.”

He couldn't see anything other than your bare pussy, glistening with desire, for him. He couldn't smell anything other than your sweet arousal, sweeter than anything he's ever had.

A soft sound escapes his mouth as he realizes he's drooling, spit pooling near his knee as he basks in the sight of your naked cunt in front of him.

He brings his hands up, smoothing over your thighs before parting them wider to accommodate the broad expanse of him.

He drags his thumb across your wetness, reaching up to your clit to draw gentle, featherlight circles around it. Tapping on your sensitive bud a few times, taking his time to tease you.

Sure you were in control right now, but who says he can't have his fun?

You huffed out a breath, hands slapping his away from your folds. He looks up at you— eyes wide and needy and guilty, pupils blown away with lust.

“Make me feel good, Steve. Show me what that mouth can do.”

“Yes ma'am.”

And with that he dived straight down into your heat. Licking long stripes across your slit, lingering at your weeping hole, making out with your drenched lips.

You moan, your hands finding their place in his hair as pleasure shoots up your core.

He drinks in your juices with a groan, hands tightening their hold on your hips—pulling you even closer, as if it was even possible.

His lips find your swollen clit, sucking and nipping it slightly, soothing the burn with quick little flicks of his tongue.

“Aah— fuck!— Steve…”

Two fingers prod at your entrance, pushing in slowly, making you feel every single thick inch in excruciating details.

Your nerve endings were on fire, your chest panting and your mind swimming god knows where. You were close.

“Am I doing good?” He asks—voice husky, drunk on your pussy. “Tell me. Am I making you feel good?”

“God… yes, Steve, you're so good. Don't you dare stop now.”

He didn't need to hear another word. He pressed his lips to your swollen pearl once again, pecking it over and over.

You were writhing in his hold now. How you were still upright, you didn't know. Something to do with his huge arms gripping you like his life depends on it.

His fingers pick up pace, the wet sloshing noises too loud in the quiet room, too loud over your breathy moans and his ragged breaths, too loud for the thin walls in the little apartment Fury calls a safe house.

“Oh god I’m close…”

Flattening his tongue, he licked from your entrance to your clit—fingers never ceasing their ruthless rhythm.

“You taste so good…” he groans against your pussy, the vibrations traveling deep down into your core. “Give it to me, princess. Show me I’m your good boy.”

His words, oh so pathetic, tipped you over the edge. You come with a broken cry, your vision blurring in and out as you try to keep your breathing in check.

Soft little kisses on your inner thighs coax you back to earth, hands stroking the soft skin of your stomach.

“You did so good… so good for me.”

well... this was something.

So when you squealed and turned away, he feigned all the innocence he didn't have, "oh sweets, I'm—I'm so sorry. You should've knocked."

You apologised again, stuttering and stammering as your thoughts were clouded by, hopefully, the sight of his fist dragging up and down his cock, the tip peeking through each time, and he just shook his head and beckoned you over.

"You gonna tell anyone about this?" His blue eyes scanned your face, the way your eyes couldn't meet his even if you tried, or the way you bit your bottom lip in... anxiety? arousal? He couldn't tell. Not yet.

Two fingers tip your chin up, forcing you to meet his unwavering gaze.

"tell me... you gonna open that pretty mouth and snitch on me?"

"No professor... I— I won't." Your voice was trembling, weak, needy.

He nodded, all things falling in their place exactly like he once dreamed of.

"Such a good girl for your professor."

Ever the star student, you smiled brightly. Though your eyes kept straying down to the still hard cock that his pants barely concealed.

He liked that look.

He liked that a whole lot.

And he knew he had you in his hold now. And he knew you knew too.

"Now, if I put my hand down those panties, which I now are fucking soaked, will you stop me?" His grip on your jaw tightened, light enough that in theory, it's shouldn't matter.

But it did.

Thumb stroking your trembling bottom lip, he leaned in closer, soft lips brushing your ear, "Speak up now, sweet girl. Use your big words."

Your cheeks were burning. His touch felt like a hot knife, eyes piercing into your soul like a dagger. It felt like he could read the words before your mouth could even take their shape.

"No. I won't tell..."

The word left like a breath held too long, and he swallowed it down like it was the first breath he took in years. His lips met yours in a clash of restraint and hunger unleashed. His hand roamed your back until he cupped your ass, squeezing the plush as he groaned in your mouth.

He nipped at your bottom lip and soothes the sting with his tongue. "Fuck, you're so sweet...gonna taste you proper now."

He picked you up and settled you on his desk, right on top of the papers he was "grading".

He kissed you once more, chuckling at your dazed expression, chest panting and hands twitching.

He removed his coat— thick arms threatening to tear through the sleeves of the cotton shirt he wore—and draped it across his chair.

He slowly stepped close back to the desk, placing his hands on your thighs, stroking the soft stockings that adorned your pretty legs. "I dream about this every single night," he rasped, "my hand just doesn't feel good enough."

He knelt down on the floor—a man worshipping sin itself— and dragged the lace down your legs, kissing every inch of skin exposed.

He lazily stroked his fingers over the wetness seeping through the cotton, rubbing over your clit and dipping into your hole.

He kept his eyes between your legs; witnessing a miracle he didn't know he could hold in his hands.

When your hips twitched up, seeking more of the delicious friction, his gaze snapped to yours. Smirking, he cooed, "Yeah? You like that? Your professor giving you a helping hand?"

"Professor...please," you whined, and who was he to refuse your sweet voice begging for his touch.

He tore the panties straight down the middle, the sound echoing in the small wooden office.

He pressed small kisses along your inner thigh, sucking bruises into soft skin, his depraved mind working overtime. Having you at his mercy, all the things he could do to your body...

He pressed a peck to your clit, looking up at you as you held your breath in anticipation.

"You really are my best student..."

He licked up and down your folds, drinking in your nectar like a man starved. Your hands pulled at his hair at their own accord as he took your clit between his lips, the overwhelming sensations making your brain swim in delight.

"So fucking sweet doll. Kept this pussy hidden from me... all this time when you were sitting there all pretty, nodding along to whatever I said...you kept this hidden from me."

"Please..." you pulled his face back to your weeping pussy, and he nuzzled into your heat like the good professor he is.

His finger traced your lips before pushing in just the tip, and you sobbed his name—a woman possessed.

He pulled away, beard wet and lips shining with the evidence of your pleasure, "gotta keep quiet sweetheart. As much as I like your voice, I don't want others to join in. You're all mine now... have been since the moment you walked in."

He tugged at his tie, swearing under his breath when it didn't come undone like it usually did.

Finally, finally, when he was free from the hold of the silk, he stood up, rolling it between his hands. "Open wide, sweets. Can't risk it, huh?"

You opened, and he spit onto your tongue, the taste of you and him together making your head spin. His lips curved into a devilish smile as he watched his pretty girl be so good for him.

He put the tie between your teeth, the silk smooth against your tongue. You gagged lightly when he pushed it in deeper and he tsked, "gotta make sure it works right, can't have my star student getting caught dirty.."

When he was done tweaking along the makeshift gag, he smiled—all proud of his debauchery.

His fingers travelled down south again, pushing in to the knuckle. Your back arched as you whined into the fabric, holding onto his broad shoulders to stay upright.

He wasted no time fucking you with his fingers now, going in and out at just the right pace, fingers curling just right into the sweet spot that no one has ever been able to reach.

Your eyes rolled back into your head when he brought his thumb up to rub circles at your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine, each nerve ending alive and oh so awake.

You moaned, high-pitched and needy, and it was almost too loud even with the tie on, too loud that he had to press a kiss to your lips—his tie still caught between—to remind you to keep it low, to keep the both of you hidden from prying ears.

His fingers sped up and his lips moved to your neck, tongue dragging across the expanse of your throat and you could do nothing more than let him take what he wanted—licking and sucking at your pulse point, sure to leave the mark of his presence for days to come.

You were dancing right on the edge, too close to the sweet, sweet release only Bucky could give you now.

Your toes curled and your thighs shook, closing around his hand—trapping him in or begging him to stop, you didn't know. Not yet.

"You gonna come princess, let go... I'm here. Come for me...make a mess on my desk," lips placing soft kisses on your temple, hands never losing their rhythm.

You came with a broken sob, clinging to him like a lifeline, the only that kept you from floating away.

"that's it...such a good girl, so good f'me... so pretty like this..."

When your senses came back, your mind finally back in the small wooden office, did you realise what exactly you did—who exactly you did it with.

Was it wrong for you to do this with your professor?

Yeah...

Well, you didn't care.

I kept picturing him talking like snape at the start lmao.. "Turn..... to.....page.....394" 😭😭😭💔

I don't know why I keep writing everything other than working on my actual fics, but.... I'm also having fun.

I think we can all agree that Ari is a slut and would have no shame sending nude photos to you, if you asked. In the beginning, he might send some very mild ones, not to freak you out, just to tease you. He would never send a 🍆-pic without your approval (no babe would) but when he does just the sight of it makes you 💦

Bucky would be very blunt, not much nuance, more like I would love to fuck your tits, after you send him a pic of your boobs in your new push up bra.

Steve wants to build anticipation, he likes the thought of you home alone waiting for him wet and ready. He describes in detail what he wants to do to you, asking if you're going to behave, be good for him, or if he's gonna have to punish you. You can barely concentrate on work on those days.

And wait you did.

---

 Hands folded neatly in your lap as you sat on the soft duvets, clothes tossed somewhere near the end of the bed. You were shivering with anticipation of what was about to come.

You barely heard the soft click of the door as he walked in, steady and slow footsteps that echoed in the quiet of the room.

“You listened,” the words dragged you out of the haze you had been in, like cold water on a fevered body. “You're precious, aren't you?”

You felt a gush of arousal seep down your wet and waiting hole, coating your inner thighs with shame and excitement.

Steve Rogers had a way with his words, and you were known for falling victim to them. Even when he chose silence, one look, one glance from him was all it took to drive you to madness.

Smiling— pleased with you—he stripped off his shirt with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. Every measured movement emphasized the hard lines of his shoulders and the thick curve of his biceps. His bare skin glowed under the soft light of the lamps, the raw strength corded in his muscles a sight to behold.

Dragging the chair to face you, he sits down heavily, his eyes never once leaving yours. His bulge was clearly visible underneath the soft material of his sweatpants, and you found it endearing that he was just as affected as you, despite the control and restraint he put on so perfectly.

“Now…” he begins, eyes drifting towards the headboard. “Get comfy.”

Dragging yourself till your back rested on the soft headboard— thanks to Steve and his immaculate choice in furnishing to make sure the time he spends with you in here doesn't leave you hurt— you look at him as he pulls out his half hard cock, palming it gently in his hand.

“Tell me, baby, what you do when I'm gone.”

A wave of shame took over you as you remembered the times you touched yourself in his absence.

“I use my fingers, an—and that toy you got me.”

He hums, a quiet acknowledgement to your words, already imagining how pretty and pathetic you must have looked rubbing yourself, crying out his name.

“Show me.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips, and you part your legs open to give him the full, unobstructed view to your slick pussy. The cool air of the room in your hot centre, along with his unrelenting gaze making you squirm in your place.

He doesn't react in loud, showy ways—merely a clinical observation of something that seemed mildly intriguing. He leans back, arms crossed as he waits for you to start.

You were drowning in nerves. He had seen everything, he had touched everything, yet touching yourself—presenting yourself in front of him like that seemed like the most wicked thing ever.

Stop it! It's Steve. Your Steve. He'll take care of you.

Your hands were shaking, fingers unsteady as you reached down to gingerly touch your mound. You look up— seeking his approval— as you press down on your clit with two of your fingers.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “That’s too hard, baby. Slower. Warm your body up.”

You yank your hand away, biting your bottom lip as you figure out how to warm your body up. Usually, it was Steve’s lips on yours, trailing kisses down your neck and your chest, his hands that groped and caressed your soft body that made warmth spread all over. But without him?

He seemed to understand exactly what was going on in your mind as he chuckled at your confused face.

“Touch your tits… just like I do. Play with your pretty nipples for me, baby.”

God… he really was going all in.

You nod your head as best as you could. Your brain was feeling all dizzy from just how intense the situation was. Just how vulnerable you were. Just how loved.

You drag your hands up your stomach, feeling your skin break in goosebumps as you go higher and higher, reaching the curve of your breasts. You caress them with gentle hands, squeezing them lightly—just feeling their weight and softness in your hands.

You reach higher still, and the first brush of your hand against your still soft nipples made you jump, the sensation so foreign, so powerful for something so menial.

You slowly run your hands over your sensitive nipples, heat curling low in your belly with each soft circle around your slowly hardening peak.

Once completely hard, you pinch them between your thumb and your forefinger, twisting and turning them slowly.

“Just like that…doesn't that feel so good?” he rasped, and you look down to see him stroking his cock, now completely erect and leaking precum in shiny pearls of white.

“Mmhm…s’feel so good,” you whine, already breathless.

“Good girl. Now spit on your tits. Get them all nice and shiny.”

Your eyes went wide at his words. But you did exactly what he told. Collecting saliva in your mouth, then spitting it straight down your chest. The thick, warm glob dripped down slowly, marking its trail across your sternum.

You swipe your fingers over the sticky wetness, dragging it over to cover your tits, circling your nipples. The extra slip it offered made the act so much more filthy. Your nipples were now pebbled into achy, hard buds and the more you rubbed them, the less it felt like relief and more like punishment.

On the armchair, Steve looked like a mess. A controlled mess, but a mess nonetheless. Pupils blown wide, chest panting, lips parted as he breathed in harsh inhales and exhales.

Seeing you like this was something out of his dirtiest dreams, the fantasies he has when he was young and stupid were now playing out in front of him and he didn't know how to stop himself from ruining the moment, take control and lose himself in you.

But he knew he had to.

For you.

For him.

“Does that hurt, baby? Too much for your tits?” He coos, voice rough like gravel but somehow still sickly sweet.

“Show me that pussy, love. Show me my girl…” as much as he liked seeing you toy with your tits, he needed to see you become a mess.

You nod, eyes half lidded already as you take your wet fingers to your pussy, parting your wet, sticky folds open with your fingers, baring yourself completely to him.

You hear him take a sharp inhale as he watches your juices drip down from your hole, clenching around nothing but air as it begs for him. Your clit was swollen and throbbing, dancing in the dim lights.

“You're so pretty… my pretty little girl. Did you miss me?”

His pretty little girl. He was talking to your cunt. You couldn't help the whimper that bubbled up your throat, far too gone at the way his words wrapped around you.

He squeezed his cock at the base, angling it just right so you could see his swollen head that shined in the dim lights, all the mess he'd made before even cumming.

“I miss you too, sweets. Just as much as you miss me.”

This time, you weren't sure if he was talking to you or your pussy. And you didn't care. Not really.

“Steve….please!” You whined, loud and shameless. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed him so bad.

“I'm here with you, aren't I? Just do as I say,” He purrs, amused at how needy you were for him to continue his instructions.

“Swipe your finger up and down your lips, baby. Play with the mess your pussy made for me.”

Your eyes close shut as you dipped your finger down to your drooling lower lips, running your fingertip up and down the soft, slippery skin.

You hear a strangled groan, and wet, stroking noises that sped up with each passing second. The veins of his neck were bulging now, the restraint threatening to snap each time your finger dipped in your pool of nectar.

“Fuck— just like that. Now touch your clit, little taps,” his brows furrow as he demonstrates the movement on himself, tapping the head of his cock softly, precum leaking out with each one.

Your mouth felt empty all of a sudden. Wanting to be full of him, his taste, his scent as he used you for his pleasure. He was the prettiest man you'd ever seen and how you got to call him yours was still a mystery to you.

One you don't think you'll ever figure out any way, but you're grateful for whatever past you did to deserve him.

You slowly pull at the hood concealing your clit from him, revealing it completely.

Tap!

Your back shot straight off the bed in a clean arch, pleasure shooting down your spine in intense bouts.

It was anything like you’d ever felt before. The teasing, the wait, the way his eyes bore straight into you and captured every single move, every single twitch of your body —it was too much.

“God—Steve! I—”

“You're doing so good, angel. Don't stop...” he hissed, squeezing at the base of his cock like you would.

You moaned out his name, though barely audible, drowned out in your pathetic mewls and cries.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Three consecutive taps and you could feel them in your limbs, running through your nerves endings and settling deep inside.

“Fuck…” he growls. “Put them inside. Slowly.”

You made an incomprehensible noise, somewhere between a yes and a curse.

Teasing your finger against your clenching opening, you slowly dip inside, just to the fingertip.

You felt so full.

So warm and wet and fluttery inside. So fucking tight.

You pause, chest rising up and falling down in a frantic pace, trying to get hold of reality.

Steve seemed to do the same, waiting for you to start moving again, just holding and caressing his heavy, full balls in his hand.

You cry out, your legs shaking violently as you push inside more. Down to the first knuckle, then more and more till you couldn't take no more.

You try to find that one spot inside you, but you knew damn well you wouldn't. It was only him that could do so. He knew your body more than you ever could and he prided himself in it. Being so in tune with you— owning your pleasure.

You pull your fingers out, a string of your wetness dragging out, connecting your hand back to your pussy. And then slowly plunge them back inside.

You do it over and over— curling your fingers upwards as you feel your walls tightening with each pass. Your jaw fell open as you feel the heat rising in your core.

You were close.

And he was too.

You could tell. His abs tightening, his hands shaking, his eyes fluttering close, and his breathing going ragged. He was close.

“Cum on me, Steve. I want your cum on me…”

His eyes tore open as he registered your words. He nods, a haste and shaky move, as he stands up and comes closer—climbing on the bed. Never once stopping stroking and twisting up and down his hard cock.

He leans down on you, shielding your body with his bigger, stronger one. His blue eyes looking straight through yours, then falling down at your bitten lips.

He doesn't give you another breath to take, instead engulfing your lips with his. The kiss wasn't soft, it was all biting and panting and licking inside each other's mouth, pouring into each other what words never could.

You felt his cock drag through your folds, and you whined into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulder, feeling his bare skin.

He rubs the head of his cock over and over your already overly sensitive clit, massaging it in ways he knows would ruin you. Breaking the kiss to look down at where you two met, he groans as he feels his balls tighten painfully. He was at the edge of falling and he didn't want to stop. He couldn't.

Your face was contorted with overwhelming pleasure, your chest brushing his with each heavy breath you took. Your nails were digging into his skin painfully, sure to leave marks.

“Cum for me, baby. You're being so good for me, so fucking good.”

Your vision blacked out, sparks all across your eyes as your orgasm hit you.

You screamed into his skin as you found yourself drowning under its waves, too deep to ever get back up.

He shuddered above you, biting your neck to muffle his moans as he cums all over your pussy. The hot, sticky, spurts of his release painting you a sinful white.

He kept rubbing, riding out both of your orgasms, dragging it out for as long as possible, as much as your bodies could take.

“God, sweetheart. I love you…” he whispers, once your breathing slowed down and you returned back from the depths of your orgasm.

“You're my best girl.”

                                                    This might be the hottest thing I've ever written someone come give me a medal.

Even when he chose silence, one look, one glance from him was all it took to drive you to madness.

There’s a reason why “silence” rhymes with “violence” 🙂‍↕️ Steve can take you out with either lol.

Ummmm. Hoe my god. This was some unhinged levels of pure filth and I loved every word of it.

It really is such a vulnerable scenario to be in. I love how we started with Steve being so in control, but by the end, he was as ruined as we were ☺️

Oh, also, you really did earn this: 🏅

And wait you did.

---

 Hands folded neatly in your lap as you sat on the soft duvets, clothes tossed somewhere near the end of the bed. You were shivering with anticipation of what was about to come.

You barely heard the soft click of the door as he walked in, steady and slow footsteps that echoed in the quiet of the room.

“You listened,” the words dragged you out of the haze you had been in, like cold water on a fevered body. “You're precious, aren't you?”

You felt a gush of arousal seep down your wet and waiting hole, coating your inner thighs with shame and excitement.

Steve Rogers had a way with his words, and you were known for falling victim to them. Even when he chose silence, one look, one glance from him was all it took to drive you to madness.

Smiling— pleased with you—he stripped off his shirt with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. Every measured movement emphasized the hard lines of his shoulders and the thick curve of his biceps. His bare skin glowed under the soft light of the lamps, the raw strength corded in his muscles a sight to behold.

Dragging the chair to face you, he sits down heavily, his eyes never once leaving yours. His bulge was clearly visible underneath the soft material of his sweatpants, and you found it endearing that he was just as affected as you, despite the control and restraint he put on so perfectly.

“Now…” he begins, eyes drifting towards the headboard. “Get comfy.”

Dragging yourself till your back rested on the soft headboard— thanks to Steve and his immaculate choice in furnishing to make sure the time he spends with you in here doesn't leave you hurt— you look at him as he pulls out his half hard cock, palming it gently in his hand.

“Tell me, baby, what you do when I'm gone.”

A wave of shame took over you as you remembered the times you touched yourself in his absence.

“I use my fingers, an—and that toy you got me.”

He hums, a quiet acknowledgement to your words, already imagining how pretty and pathetic you must have looked rubbing yourself, crying out his name.

“Show me.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips, and you part your legs open to give him the full, unobstructed view to your slick pussy. The cool air of the room in your hot centre, along with his unrelenting gaze making you squirm in your place.

He doesn't react in loud, showy ways—merely a clinical observation of something that seemed mildly intriguing. He leans back, arms crossed as he waits for you to start.

You were drowning in nerves. He had seen everything, he had touched everything, yet touching yourself—presenting yourself in front of him like that seemed like the most wicked thing ever.

Stop it! It's Steve. Your Steve. He'll take care of you.

Your hands were shaking, fingers unsteady as you reached down to gingerly touch your mound. You look up— seeking his approval— as you press down on your clit with two of your fingers.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “That’s too hard, baby. Slower. Warm your body up.”

You yank your hand away, biting your bottom lip as you figure out how to warm your body up. Usually, it was Steve’s lips on yours, trailing kisses down your neck and your chest, his hands that groped and caressed your soft body that made warmth spread all over. But without him?

He seemed to understand exactly what was going on in your mind as he chuckled at your confused face.

“Touch your tits… just like I do. Play with your pretty nipples for me, baby.”

God… he really was going all in.

You nod your head as best as you could. Your brain was feeling all dizzy from just how intense the situation was. Just how vulnerable you were. Just how loved.

You drag your hands up your stomach, feeling your skin break in goosebumps as you go higher and higher, reaching the curve of your breasts. You caress them with gentle hands, squeezing them lightly—just feeling their weight and softness in your hands.

You reach higher still, and the first brush of your hand against your still soft nipples made you jump, the sensation so foreign, so powerful for something so menial.

You slowly run your hands over your sensitive nipples, heat curling low in your belly with each soft circle around your slowly hardening peak.

Once completely hard, you pinch them between your thumb and your forefinger, twisting and turning them slowly.

“Just like that…doesn't that feel so good?” he rasped, and you look down to see him stroking his cock, now completely erect and leaking precum in shiny pearls of white.

“Mmhm…s’feel so good,” you whine, already breathless.

“Good girl. Now spit on your tits. Get them all nice and shiny.”

Your eyes went wide at his words. But you did exactly what he told. Collecting saliva in your mouth, then spitting it straight down your chest. The thick, warm glob dripped down slowly, marking its trail across your sternum.

You swipe your fingers over the sticky wetness, dragging it over to cover your tits, circling your nipples. The extra slip it offered made the act so much more filthy. Your nipples were now pebbled into achy, hard buds and the more you rubbed them, the less it felt like relief and more like punishment.

On the armchair, Steve looked like a mess. A controlled mess, but a mess nonetheless. Pupils blown wide, chest panting, lips parted as he breathed in harsh inhales and exhales.

Seeing you like this was something out of his dirtiest dreams, the fantasies he has when he was young and stupid were now playing out in front of him and he didn't know how to stop himself from ruining the moment, take control and lose himself in you.

But he knew he had to.

For you.

For him.

“Does that hurt, baby? Too much for your tits?” He coos, voice rough like gravel but somehow still sickly sweet.

“Show me that pussy, love. Show me my girl…” as much as he liked seeing you toy with your tits, he needed to see you become a mess.

You nod, eyes half lidded already as you take your wet fingers to your pussy, parting your wet, sticky folds open with your fingers, baring yourself completely to him.

You hear him take a sharp inhale as he watches your juices drip down from your hole, clenching around nothing but air as it begs for him. Your clit was swollen and throbbing, dancing in the dim lights.

“You're so pretty… my pretty little girl. Did you miss me?”

His pretty little girl. He was talking to your cunt. You couldn't help the whimper that bubbled up your throat, far too gone at the way his words wrapped around you.

He squeezed his cock at the base, angling it just right so you could see his swollen head that shined in the dim lights, all the mess he'd made before even cumming.

“I miss you too, sweets. Just as much as you miss me.”

This time, you weren't sure if he was talking to you or your pussy. And you didn't care. Not really.

“Steve….please!” You whined, loud and shameless. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed him so bad.

“I'm here with you, aren't I? Just do as I say,” He purrs, amused at how needy you were for him to continue his instructions.

“Swipe your finger up and down your lips, baby. Play with the mess your pussy made for me.”

Your eyes close shut as you dipped your finger down to your drooling lower lips, running your fingertip up and down the soft, slippery skin.

You hear a strangled groan, and wet, stroking noises that sped up with each passing second. The veins of his neck were bulging now, the restraint threatening to snap each time your finger dipped in your pool of nectar.

“Fuck— just like that. Now touch your clit, little taps,” his brows furrow as he demonstrates the movement on himself, tapping the head of his cock softly, precum leaking out with each one.

Your mouth felt empty all of a sudden. Wanting to be full of him, his taste, his scent as he used you for his pleasure. He was the prettiest man you'd ever seen and how you got to call him yours was still a mystery to you.

One you don't think you'll ever figure out any way, but you're grateful for whatever past you did to deserve him.

You slowly pull at the hood concealing your clit from him, revealing it completely.

Tap!

Your back shot straight off the bed in a clean arch, pleasure shooting down your spine in intense bouts.

It was anything like you’d ever felt before. The teasing, the wait, the way his eyes bore straight into you and captured every single move, every single twitch of your body —it was too much.

“God—Steve! I—”

“You're doing so good, angel. Don't stop...” he hissed, squeezing at the base of his cock like you would.

You moaned out his name, though barely audible, drowned out in your pathetic mewls and cries.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Three consecutive taps and you could feel them in your limbs, running through your nerves endings and settling deep inside.

“Fuck…” he growls. “Put them inside. Slowly.”

You made an incomprehensible noise, somewhere between a yes and a curse.

Teasing your finger against your clenching opening, you slowly dip inside, just to the fingertip.

You felt so full.

So warm and wet and fluttery inside. So fucking tight.

You pause, chest rising up and falling down in a frantic pace, trying to get hold of reality.

Steve seemed to do the same, waiting for you to start moving again, just holding and caressing his heavy, full balls in his hand.

You cry out, your legs shaking violently as you push inside more. Down to the first knuckle, then more and more till you couldn't take no more.

You try to find that one spot inside you, but you knew damn well you wouldn't. It was only him that could do so. He knew your body more than you ever could and he prided himself in it. Being so in tune with you— owning your pleasure.

You pull your fingers out, a string of your wetness dragging out, connecting your hand back to your pussy. And then slowly plunge them back inside.

You do it over and over— curling your fingers upwards as you feel your walls tightening with each pass. Your jaw fell open as you feel the heat rising in your core.

You were close.

And he was too.

You could tell. His abs tightening, his hands shaking, his eyes fluttering close, and his breathing going ragged. He was close.

“Cum on me, Steve. I want your cum on me…”

His eyes tore open as he registered your words. He nods, a haste and shaky move, as he stands up and comes closer—climbing on the bed. Never once stopping stroking and twisting up and down his hard cock.

He leans down on you, shielding your body with his bigger, stronger one. His blue eyes looking straight through yours, then falling down at your bitten lips.

He doesn't give you another breath to take, instead engulfing your lips with his. The kiss wasn't soft, it was all biting and panting and licking inside each other's mouth, pouring into each other what words never could.

You felt his cock drag through your folds, and you whined into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulder, feeling his bare skin.

He rubs the head of his cock over and over your already overly sensitive clit, massaging it in ways he knows would ruin you. Breaking the kiss to look down at where you two met, he groans as he feels his balls tighten painfully. He was at the edge of falling and he didn't want to stop. He couldn't.

Your face was contorted with overwhelming pleasure, your chest brushing his with each heavy breath you took. Your nails were digging into his skin painfully, sure to leave marks.

“Cum for me, baby. You're being so good for me, so fucking good.”

Your vision blacked out, sparks all across your eyes as your orgasm hit you.

You screamed into his skin as you found yourself drowning under its waves, too deep to ever get back up.

He shuddered over you, biting your neck to muffle his moans as he cums all over your pussy. The hot, sticky, spurts of his release painting you a sinful white.

He kept rubbing, riding out both of your orgasms, dragging it out for as long as possible, as much as your bodies could take.

“God, sweetheart. I love you…” he whispers, once your breathing slowed down and you returned back from the depths of your orgasm.

“You're my best girl.”

                                                    This might be the hottest thing I've ever written someone come give me a medal.

And wait you did.

---

 Hands folded neatly in your lap as you sat on the soft duvets, clothes tossed somewhere near the end of the bed. You were shivering with anticipation of what was about to come.

You barely heard the soft click of the door as he walked in, steady and slow footsteps that echoed in the quiet of the room.

“You listened,” the words dragged you out of the haze you had been in, like cold water on a fevered body. “You're precious, aren't you?”

You felt a gush of arousal seep down your wet and waiting hole, coating your inner thighs with shame and excitement.

Steve Rogers had a way with his words, and you were known for falling victim to them. Even when he chose silence, one look, one glance from him was all it took to drive you to madness.

Smiling— pleased with you—he stripped off his shirt with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. Every measured movement emphasized the hard lines of his shoulders and the thick curve of his biceps. His bare skin glowed under the soft light of the lamps, the raw strength corded in his muscles a sight to behold.

Dragging the chair to face you, he sits down heavily, his eyes never once leaving yours. His bulge was clearly visible underneath the soft material of his sweatpants, and you found it endearing that he was just as affected as you, despite the control and restraint he put on so perfectly.

“Now…” he begins, eyes drifting towards the headboard. “Get comfy.”

Dragging yourself till your back rested on the soft headboard— thanks to Steve and his immaculate choice in furnishing to make sure the time he spends with you in here doesn't leave you hurt— you look at him as he pulls out his half hard cock, palming it gently in his hand.

“Tell me, baby, what you do when I'm gone.”

A wave of shame took over you as you remembered the times you touched yourself in his absence.

“I use my fingers, an—and that toy you got me.”

He hums, a quiet acknowledgement to your words, already imagining how pretty and pathetic you must have looked rubbing yourself, crying out his name.

“Show me.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips, and you part your legs open to give him the full, unobstructed view to your slick pussy. The cool air of the room in your hot centre, along with his unrelenting gaze making you squirm in your place.

He doesn't react in loud, showy ways—merely a clinical observation of something that seemed mildly intriguing. He leans back, arms crossed as he waits for you to start.

You were drowning in nerves. He had seen everything, he had touched everything, yet touching yourself—presenting yourself in front of him like that seemed like the most wicked thing ever.

Stop it! It's Steve. Your Steve. He'll take care of you.

Your hands were shaking, fingers unsteady as you reached down to gingerly touch your mound. You look up— seeking his approval— as you press down on your clit with two of your fingers.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “That’s too hard, baby. Slower. Warm your body up.”

You yank your hand away, biting your bottom lip as you figure out how to warm your body up. Usually, it was Steve’s lips on yours, trailing kisses down your neck and your chest, his hands that groped and caressed your soft body that made warmth spread all over. But without him?

He seemed to understand exactly what was going on in your mind as he chuckled at your confused face.

“Touch your tits… just like I do. Play with your pretty nipples for me, baby.”

God… he really was going all in.

You nod your head as best as you could. Your brain was feeling all dizzy from just how intense the situation was. Just how vulnerable you were. Just how loved.

You drag your hands up your stomach, feeling your skin break in goosebumps as you go higher and higher, reaching the curve of your breasts. You caress them with gentle hands, squeezing them lightly—just feeling their weight and softness in your hands.

You reach higher still, and the first brush of your hand against your still soft nipples made you jump, the sensation so foreign, so powerful for something so menial.

You slowly run your hands over your sensitive nipples, heat curling low in your belly with each soft circle around your slowly hardening peak.

Once completely hard, you pinch them between your thumb and your forefinger, twisting and turning them slowly.

“Just like that…doesn't that feel so good?” he rasped, and you look down to see him stroking his cock, now completely erect and leaking precum in shiny pearls of white.

“Mmhm…s’feel so good,” you whine, already breathless.

“Good girl. Now spit on your tits. Get them all nice and shiny.”

Your eyes went wide at his words. But you did exactly what he told. Collecting saliva in your mouth, then spitting it straight down your chest. The thick, warm glob dripped down slowly, marking its trail across your sternum.

You swipe your fingers over the sticky wetness, dragging it over to cover your tits, circling your nipples. The extra slip it offered made the act so much more filthy. Your nipples were now pebbled into achy, hard buds and the more you rubbed them, the less it felt like relief and more like punishment.

On the armchair, Steve looked like a mess. A controlled mess, but a mess nonetheless. Pupils blown wide, chest panting, lips parted as he breathed in harsh inhales and exhales.

Seeing you like this was something out of his dirtiest dreams, the fantasies he has when he was young and stupid were now playing out in front of him and he didn't know how to stop himself from ruining the moment, take control and lose himself in you.

But he knew he had to.

For you.

For him.

“Does that hurt, baby? Too much for your tits?” He coos, voice rough like gravel but somehow still sickly sweet.

“Show me that pussy, love. Show me my girl…” as much as he liked seeing you toy with your tits, he needed to see you become a mess.

You nod, eyes half lidded already as you take your wet fingers to your pussy, parting your wet, sticky folds open with your fingers, baring yourself completely to him.

You hear him take a sharp inhale as he watches your juices drip down from your hole, clenching around nothing but air as it begs for him. Your clit was swollen and throbbing, dancing in the dim lights.

“You're so pretty… my pretty little girl. Did you miss me?”

His pretty little girl. He was talking to your cunt. You couldn't help the whimper that bubbled up your throat, far too gone at the way his words wrapped around you.

He squeezed his cock at the base, angling it just right so you could see his swollen head that shined in the dim lights, all the mess he'd made before even cumming.

“I miss you too, sweets. Just as much as you miss me.”

This time, you weren't sure if he was talking to you or your pussy. And you didn't care. Not really.

“Steve….please!” You whined, loud and shameless. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed him so bad.

“I'm here with you, aren't I? Just do as I say,” He purrs, amused at how needy you were for him to continue his instructions.

“Swipe your finger up and down your lips, baby. Play with the mess your pussy made for me.”

Your eyes close shut as you dipped your finger down to your drooling lower lips, running your fingertip up and down the soft, slippery skin.

You hear a strangled groan, and wet, stroking noises that sped up with each passing second. The veins of his neck were bulging now, the restraint threatening to snap each time your finger dipped in your pool of nectar.

“Fuck— just like that. Now touch your clit, little taps,” his brows furrow as he demonstrates the movement on himself, tapping the head of his cock softly, precum leaking out with each one.

Your mouth felt empty all of a sudden. Wanting to be full of him, his taste, his scent as he used you for his pleasure. He was the prettiest man you'd ever seen and how you got to call him yours was still a mystery to you.

One you don't think you'll ever figure out any way, but you're grateful for whatever past you did to deserve him.

You slowly pull at the hood concealing your clit from him, revealing it completely.

Tap!

Your back shot straight off the bed in a clean arch, pleasure shooting down your spine in intense bouts.

It was anything like you’d ever felt before. The teasing, the wait, the way his eyes bore straight into you and captured every single move, every single twitch of your body —it was too much.

“God—Steve! I—”

“You're doing so good, angel. Don't stop...” he hissed, squeezing at the base of his cock like you would.

You moaned out his name, though barely audible, drowned out in your pathetic mewls and cries.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Three consecutive taps and you could feel them in your limbs, running through your nerves endings and settling deep inside.

“Fuck…” he growls. “Put them inside. Slowly.”

You made an incomprehensible noise, somewhere between a yes and a curse.

Teasing your finger against your clenching opening, you slowly dip inside, just to the fingertip.

You felt so full.

So warm and wet and fluttery inside. So fucking tight.

You pause, chest rising up and falling down in a frantic pace, trying to get hold of reality.

Steve seemed to do the same, waiting for you to start moving again, just holding and caressing his heavy, full balls in his hand.

You cry out, your legs shaking violently as you push inside more. Down to the first knuckle, then more and more till you couldn't take no more.

You try to find that one spot inside you, but you knew damn well you wouldn't. It was only him that could do so. He knew your body more than you ever could and he prided himself in it. Being so in tune with you— owning your pleasure.

You pull your fingers out, a string of your wetness dragging out, connecting your hand back to your pussy. And then slowly plunge them back inside.

You do it over and over— curling your fingers upwards as you feel your walls tightening with each pass. Your jaw fell open as you feel the heat rising in your core.

You were close.

And he was too.

You could tell. His abs tightening, his hands shaking, his eyes fluttering close, and his breathing going ragged. He was close.

“Cum on me, Steve. I want your cum on me…”

His eyes tore open as he registered your words. He nods, a haste and shaky move, as he stands up and comes closer—climbing on the bed. Never once stopping stroking and twisting up and down his hard cock.

He leans down on you, shielding your body with his bigger, stronger one. His blue eyes looking straight through yours, then falling down at your bitten lips.

He doesn't give you another breath to take, instead engulfing your lips with his. The kiss wasn't soft, it was all biting and panting and licking inside each other's mouth, pouring into each other what words never could.

You felt his cock drag through your folds, and you whined into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulder, feeling his bare skin.

He rubs the head of his cock over and over your already overly sensitive clit, massaging it in ways he knows would ruin you. Breaking the kiss to look down at where you two met, he groans as he feels his balls tighten painfully. He was at the edge of falling and he didn't want to stop. He couldn't.

Your face was contorted with overwhelming pleasure, your chest brushing his with with each heavy breathing you took. Your nails digging into his skin, sure to leave marks.

“Cum for me, baby. You're being so good for me, so fucking good.”

Your vision blacked out, sparks all across your eyes as your orgasm hit you.

You screamed into his skin as you found yourself drowning under its waves, too deep to ever get back up.

He shuddered over you, biting your neck to muffle his moans as he cums all over your pussy. The hot, sticky, spurts of his release painting you a sinful white.

He kept rubbing, riding out both of your orgasms, dragging it out for as long as possible, as much as your bodies could take.

“God, sweetheart. I love you…” he whispers, once your breathing slowed down and you returned back from the depths of your orgasm.

“You're my best girl.”

                                                    This might be the hottest thing I've ever written someone come give me a medal.

And wait you did.

---

 Hands folded neatly in your lap as you sat on the soft duvets, clothes tossed somewhere near the end of the bed. You were shivering with anticipation of what was about to come.

You barely heard the soft click of the door as he walked in, steady and slow footsteps that echoed in the quiet of the room.

“You listened,” the words dragged you out of the haze you had been in, like cold water on a fevered body. “You're precious, aren't you?”

You felt a gush of arousal seep down your wet and waiting hole, coating your inner thighs with shame and excitement.

Steve Rogers had a way with his words, and you were known for falling victim to them. Even when he chose silence, one look, one glance from him was all it took to drive you to madness.

Smiling— pleased with you—he stripped off his shirt with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. Every measured movement emphasized the hard lines of his shoulders and the thick curve of his biceps. His bare skin glowed under the soft light of the lamps, the raw strength corded in his muscles a sight to behold.

Dragging the chair to face you, he sits down heavily, his eyes never once leaving yours. His bulge was clearly visible underneath the soft material of his sweatpants, and you found it endearing that he was just as affected as you, despite the control and restraint he put on so perfectly.

“Now…” he begins, eyes drifting towards the headboard. “Get comfy.”

Dragging yourself till your back rested on the soft headboard— thanks to Steve and his immaculate choice in furnishing to make sure the time he spends with you in here doesn't leave you hurt— you look at him as he pulls out his half hard cock, palming it gently in his hand.

“Tell me, baby, what you do when I'm gone.”

A wave of shame took over you as you remembered the times you touched yourself in his absence.

“I use my fingers, an—and that toy you got me.”

He hums, a quiet acknowledgement to your words, already imagining how pretty and pathetic you must have looked rubbing yourself, crying out his name.

“Show me.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips, and you part your legs open to give him the full, unobstructed view to your slick pussy. The cool air of the room in your hot centre, along with his unrelenting gaze making you squirm in your place.

He doesn't react in loud, showy ways—merely a clinical observation of something that seemed mildly intriguing. He leans back, arms crossed as he waits for you to start.

You were drowning in nerves. He had seen everything, he had touched everything, yet touching yourself—presenting yourself in front of him like that seemed like the most wicked thing ever.

Stop it! It's Steve. Your Steve. He'll take care of you.

Your hands were shaking, fingers unsteady as you reached down to gingerly touch your mound. You look up— seeking his approval— as you press down on your clit with two of your fingers.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “That’s too hard, baby. Slower. Warm your body up.”

You yank your hand away, biting your bottom lip as you figure out how to warm your body up. Usually, it was Steve’s lips on yours, trailing kisses down your neck and your chest, his hands that groped and caressed your soft body that made warmth spread all over. But without him?

He seemed to understand exactly what was going on in your mind as he chuckled at your confused face.

“Touch your tits… just like I do. Play with your pretty nipples for me, baby.”

God… he really was going all in.

You nod your head as best as you could. Your brain was feeling all dizzy from just how intense the situation was. Just how vulnerable you were. Just how loved.

You drag your hands up your stomach, feeling your skin break in goosebumps as you go higher and higher, reaching the curve of your breasts. You caress them with gentle hands, squeezing them lightly—just feeling their weight and softness in your hands.

You reach higher still, and the first brush of your hand against your still soft nipples made you jump, the sensation so foreign, so powerful for something so menial.

You slowly run your hands over your sensitive nipples, heat curling low in your belly with each soft circle around your slowly hardening peak.

Once completely hard, you pinch them between your thumb and your forefinger, twisting and turning them slowly.

“Just like that…doesn't that feel so good?” he rasped, and you look down to see him stroking his cock, now completely erect and leaking precum in shiny pearls of white.

“Mmhm…s’feel so good,” you whine, already breathless.

“Good girl. Now spit on your tits. Get them all nice and shiny.”

Your eyes went wide at his words. But you did exactly what he told. Collecting saliva in your mouth, then spitting it straight down your chest. The thick, warm glob dripped down slowly, marking its trail across your sternum.

You swipe your fingers over the sticky wetness, dragging it over to cover your tits, circling your nipples. The extra slip it offered made the act so much more filthy. Your nipples were now pebbled into achy, hard buds and the more you rubbed them, the less it felt like relief and more like punishment.

On the armchair, Steve looked like a mess. A controlled mess, but a mess nonetheless. Pupils blown wide, chest panting, lips parted as he breathed in harsh inhales and exhales.

Seeing you like this was something out of his dirtiest dreams, the fantasies he has when he was young and stupid were now playing out in front of him and he didn't know how to stop himself from ruining the moment, take control and lose himself in you.

But he knew he had to.

For you.

For him.

“Does that hurt, baby? Too much for your tits?” He coos, voice rough like gravel but somehow still sickly sweet.

“Show me that pussy, love. Show me my girl…” as much as he liked seeing you toy with your tits, he needed to see you become a mess.

You nod, eyes half lidded already as you take your wet fingers to your pussy, parting your wet, sticky folds open with your fingers, baring yourself completely to him.

You hear him take a sharp inhale as he watches your juices drip down from your hole, clenching around nothing but air as it begs for him. Your clit was swollen and throbbing, dancing in the dim lights.

“You're so pretty… my pretty little girl. Did you miss me?”

His pretty little girl. He was talking to your cunt. You couldn't help the whimper that bubbled up your throat, far too gone at the way his words wrapped around you.

He squeezed his cock at the base, angling it just right so you could see his swollen head that shined in the dim lights, all the mess he'd made before even cumming.

“I miss you too, sweets. Just as much as you miss me.”

This time, you weren't sure if he was talking to you or your pussy. And you didn't care. Not really.

“Steve….please!” You whined, loud and shameless. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed him so bad.

“I'm here with you, aren't I? Just do as I say,” He purrs, amused at how needy you were for him to continue his instructions.

“Swipe your finger up and down your lips, baby. Play with the mess your pussy made for me.”

Your eyes close shut as you dipped your finger down to your drooling lower lips, running your fingertip up and down the soft, slippery skin.

You hear a strangled groan, and wet, stroking noises that sped up with each passing second. The veins of his neck were bulging now, the restraint threatening to snap each time your finger dipped in your pool of nectar.

“Fuck— just like that. Now touch your clit, little taps,” his brows furrow as he demonstrates the movement on himself, tapping the head of his cock softly, precum leaking out with each one.

Your mouth felt empty all of a sudden. Wanting to be full of him, his taste, his scent as he used you for his pleasure. He was the prettiest man you'd ever seen and how you got to call him yours was still a mystery to you.

One you don't think you'll ever figure out any way, but you're grateful for whatever past you did to deserve him.

You slowly pull at the hood concealing your clit from him, revealing it completely.

Tap!

Your back shot straight off the bed in a clean arch, pleasure shooting down your spine in intense bouts.

It was anything like you’d ever felt before. The teasing, the wait, the way his eyes bore straight into you and captured every single move, every single twitch of your body —it was too much.

“God—Steve! I—”

“You're doing so good, angel. Don't stop...” he hissed, squeezing at the base of his cock like you would.

You moaned out his name, though barely audible, drowned out in your pathetic mewls and cries.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Three consecutive taps and you could feel them in your limbs, running through your nerves endings and settling deep inside.

“Fuck…” he growls. “Put them inside. Slowly.”

You made an incomprehensible noise, somewhere between a yes and a curse.

Teasing your finger against your clenching opening, you slowly dip inside, just to the fingertip.

You felt so full.

So warm and wet and fluttery inside. So fucking tight.

You pause, chest rising up and falling down in a frantic pace, trying to get hold of reality.

Steve seemed to do the same, waiting for you to start moving again, just holding and caressing his heavy, full balls in his hand.

You cry out, your legs shaking violently as you push inside more. Down to the first knuckle, then more and more till you couldn't take no more.

You try to find that one spot inside you, but you knew damn well you wouldn't. It was only him that could do so. He knew your body more than you ever could and he prided himself in it. Being so in tune with you— owning your pleasure.

You pull your fingers out, a string of your wetness dragging out, connecting your hand back to your pussy. And then slowly plunge them back inside.

You do it over and over— curling your fingers upwards as you feel your walls tightening with each pass. Your jaw fell open as you feel the heat rising in your core.

You were close.

And he was too.

You could tell. His abs tightening, his hands shaking, his eyes fluttering close, and his breathing going ragged. He was close.

“Cum on me, Steve. I want your cum on me…”

His eyes tore open as he registered your words. He nods, a haste and shaky move, as he stands up and comes closer—climbing on the bed. Never once stopping stroking and twisting up and down his hard cock.

He leans down on you, shielding your body with his bigger, stronger one. His blue eyes looking straight through yours, then falling down at your bitten lips.

He doesn't give you another breath to take, instead engulfing your lips with his. The kiss wasn't soft, it was all biting and panting and licking inside each other's mouth, pouring into each other what words never could.

You felt his cock drag through your folds, and you whined into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulder, feeling his bare skin.

He rubs the head of his cock over and over your already overly sensitive clit, massaging it in ways he knows would ruin you. Breaking the kiss to look down at where you two met, he groans as he feels his balls tighten painfully. He was at the edge of falling and he didn't want to stop. He couldn't.

Your face was contorted with overwhelming pleasure, your chest brushing his with with each heavy breathing you took. Your nails digging into his skin, sure to leave marks.

“Cum for me, baby. You're being so good for me, so fucking good.”

Your vision blacked out, sparks all across your eyes as your orgasm hit you.

You screamed into his skin as you found yourself drowning under its waves, too deep to ever get back up.

He shuddered over you, biting your neck to muffle his moans as he cums all over your pussy. The hot, sticky, spurts of his release painting you a sinful white.

He kept rubbing, riding out both of your orgasms, dragging it out for as long as possible, as much as your bodies could take.

“God, sweetheart. I love you…” he whispers, once your breathing slowed down and you returned back from the depths of your orgasm.

“You're my best girl.”

                                                    This might be the hottest thing I've ever written someone come give me a medal.

And wait you did.

---

 Hands folded neatly in your lap as you sat on the soft duvets, clothes tossed somewhere near the end of the bed. You were shivering with anticipation of what was about to come.

You barely heard the soft click of the door as he walked in, steady and slow footsteps that echoed in the quiet of the room.

“You listened,” the words dragged you out of the haze you had been in, like cold water on a fevered body. “You're precious, aren't you?”

You felt a gush of arousal seep down your wet and waiting hole, coating your inner thighs with shame and excitement.

Steve Rogers had a way with his words, and you were known for falling victim to them. Even when he chose silence, one look, one glance from him was all it took to drive you to madness.

Smiling— pleased with you—he stripped off his shirt with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. Every measured movement emphasized the hard lines of his shoulders and the thick curve of his biceps. His bare skin glowed under the soft light of the lamps, the raw strength corded in his muscles a sight to behold.

Dragging the chair to face you, he sits down heavily, his eyes never once leaving yours. His bulge was clearly visible underneath the soft material of his sweatpants, and you found it endearing that he was just as affected as you, despite the control and restraint he put on so perfectly.

“Now…” he begins, eyes drifting towards the headboard. “Get comfy.”

Dragging yourself till your back rested on the soft headboard— thanks to Steve and his immaculate choice in furnishing to make sure the time he spends with you in here doesn't leave you hurt— you look at him as he pulls out his half hard cock, palming it gently in his hand.

“Tell me, baby, what you do when I'm gone.”

A wave of shame took over you as you remembered the times you touched yourself in his absence.

“I use my fingers, an—and that toy you got me.”

He hums, a quiet acknowledgement to your words, already imagining how pretty and pathetic you must have looked rubbing yourself, crying out his name.

“Show me.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips, and you part your legs open to give him the full, unobstructed view to your slick pussy. The cool air of the room in your hot centre, along with his unrelenting gaze making you squirm in your place.

He doesn't react in loud, showy ways—merely a clinical observation of something that seemed mildly intriguing. He leans back, arms crossed as he waits for you to start.

You were drowning in nerves. He had seen everything, he had touched everything, yet touching yourself—presenting yourself in front of him like that seemed like the most wicked thing ever.

Stop it! It's Steve. Your Steve. He'll take care of you.

Your hands were shaking, fingers unsteady as you reached down to gingerly touch your mound. You look up— seeking his approval— as you press down on your clit with two of your fingers.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “That’s too hard, baby. Slower. Warm your body up.”

You yank your hand away, biting your bottom lip as you figure out how to warm your body up. Usually, it was Steve’s lips on yours, trailing kisses down your neck and your chest, his hands that groped and caressed your soft body that made warmth spread all over. But without him?

He seemed to understand exactly what was going on in your mind as he chuckled at your confused face.

“Touch your tits… just like I do. Play with your pretty nipples for me, baby.”

God… he really was going all in.

You nod your head as best as you could. Your brain was feeling all dizzy from just how intense the situation was. Just how vulnerable you were. Just how loved.

You drag your hands up your stomach, feeling your skin break in goosebumps as you go higher and higher, reaching the curve of your breasts. You caress them with gentle hands, squeezing them lightly—just feeling their weight and softness in your hands.

You reach higher still, and the first brush of your hand against your still soft nipples made you jump, the sensation so foreign, so powerful for something so menial.

You slowly run your hands over your sensitive nipples, heat curling low in your belly with each soft circle around your slowly hardening peak.

Once completely hard, you pinch them between your thumb and your forefinger, twisting and turning them slowly.

“Just like that…doesn't that feel so good?” he rasped, and you look down to see him stroking his cock, now completely erect and leaking precum in shiny pearls of white.

“Mmhm…s’feel so good,” you whine, already breathless.

“Good girl. Now spit on your tits. Get them all nice and shiny.”

Your eyes went wide at his words. But you did exactly what he told. Collecting saliva in your mouth, then spitting it straight down your chest. The thick, warm glob dripped down slowly, marking its trail across your sternum.

You swipe your fingers over the sticky wetness, dragging it over to cover your tits, circling your nipples. The extra slip it offered made the act so much more filthy. Your nipples were now pebbled into achy, hard buds and the more you rubbed them, the less it felt like relief and more like punishment.

On the armchair, Steve looked like a mess. A controlled mess, but a mess nonetheless. Pupils blown wide, chest panting, lips parted as he breathed in harsh inhales and exhales.

Seeing you like this was something out of his dirtiest dreams, the fantasies he has when he was young and stupid were now playing out in front of him and he didn't know how to stop himself from ruining the moment, take control and lose himself in you.

But he knew he had to.

For you.

For him.

“Does that hurt, baby? Too much for your tits?” He coos, voice rough like gravel but somehow still sickly sweet.

“Show me that pussy, love. Show me my girl…” as much as he liked seeing you toy with your tits, he needed to see you become a mess.

You nod, eyes half lidded already as you take your wet fingers to your pussy, parting your wet, sticky folds open with your fingers, baring yourself completely to him.

You hear him take a sharp inhale as he watches your juices drip down from your hole, clenching around nothing but air as it begs for him. Your clit was swollen and throbbing, dancing in the dim lights.

“You're so pretty… my pretty little girl. Did you miss me?”

His pretty little girl. He was talking to your cunt. You couldn't help the whimper that bubbled up your throat, far too gone at the way his words wrapped around you.

He squeezed his cock at the base, angling it just right so you could see his swollen head that shined in the dim lights, all the mess he'd made before even cumming.

“I miss you too, sweets. Just as much as you miss me.”

This time, you weren't sure if he was talking to you or your pussy. And you didn't care. Not really.

“Steve….please!” You whined, loud and shameless. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed him so bad.

“I'm here with you, aren't I? Just do as I say,” He purrs, amused at how needy you were for him to continue his instructions.

“Swipe your finger up and down your lips, baby. Play with the mess your pussy made for me.”

Your eyes close shut as you dipped your finger down to your drooling lower lips, running your fingertip up and down the soft, slippery skin.

You hear a strangled groan, and wet, stroking noises that sped up with each passing second. The veins of his neck were bulging now, the restraint threatening to snap each time your finger dipped in your pool of nectar.

“Fuck— just like that. Now touch your clit, little taps,” his brows furrow as he demonstrates the movement on himself, tapping the head of his cock softly, precum leaking out with each one.

Your mouth felt empty all of a sudden. Wanting to be full of him, his taste, his scent as he used you for his pleasure. He was the prettiest man you'd ever seen and how you got to call him yours was still a mystery to you.

One you don't think you'll ever figure out any way, but you're grateful for whatever past you did to deserve him.

You slowly pull at the hood concealing your clit from him, revealing it completely.

Tap!

Your back shot straight off the bed in a clean arch, pleasure shooting down your spine in intense bouts.

It was anything like you’d ever felt before. The teasing, the wait, the way his eyes bore straight into you and captured every single move, every single twitch of your body —it was too much.

“God—Steve! I—”

“You're doing so good, angel. Don't stop...” he hissed, squeezing at the base of his cock like you would.

You moaned out his name, though barely audible, drowned out in your pathetic mewls and cries.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Three consecutive taps and you could feel them in your limbs, running through your nerves endings and settling deep inside.

“Fuck…” he growls. “Put them inside. Slowly.”

You made an incomprehensible noise, somewhere between a yes and a curse.

Teasing your finger against your clenching opening, you slowly dip inside, just to the fingertip.

You felt so full.

So warm and wet and fluttery inside. So fucking tight.

You pause, chest rising up and falling down in a frantic pace, trying to get hold of reality.

Steve seemed to do the same, waiting for you to start moving again, just holding and caressing his heavy, full balls in his hand.

You cry out, your legs shaking violently as you push inside more. Down to the first knuckle, then more and more till you couldn't take no more.

You try to find that one spot inside you, but you knew damn well you wouldn't. It was only him that could do so. He knew your body more than you ever could and he prided himself in it. Being so in tune with you— owning your pleasure.

You pull your fingers out, a string of your wetness dragging out, connecting your hand back to your pussy. And then slowly plunge them back inside.

You do it over and over— curling your fingers upwards as you feel your walls tightening with each pass. Your jaw fell open as you feel the heat rising in your core.

You were close.

And he was too.

You could tell. His abs tightening, his hands shaking, his eyes fluttering close, and his breathing going ragged. He was close.

“Cum on me, Steve. I want your cum on me…”

His eyes tore open as he registered your words. He nods, a haste and shaky move, as he stands up and comes closer—climbing on the bed. Never once stopping stroking and twisting up and down his hard cock.

He leans down on you, shielding your body with his bigger, stronger one. His blue eyes looking straight through yours, then falling down at your bitten lips.

He doesn't give you another breath to take, instead engulfing your lips with his. The kiss wasn't soft, it was all biting and panting and licking inside each other's mouth, pouring into each other what words never could.

You felt his cock drag through your folds, and you whined into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulder, feeling his bare skin.

He rubs the head of his cock over and over your already overly sensitive clit, massaging it in ways he knows would ruin you. Breaking the kiss to look down at where you two met, he groans as he feels his balls tighten painfully. He was at the edge of falling and he didn't want to stop. He couldn't.

Your face was contorted with overwhelming pleasure, your chest brushing his with with each heavy breathing you took. Your nails digging into his skin, sure to leave marks.

“Cum for me, baby. You're being so good for me, so fucking good.”

Your vision blacked out, sparks all across your eyes as your orgasm hit you.

You screamed into his skin as you found yourself drowning under its waves, too deep to ever get back up.

He shuddered over you, biting your neck to muffle his moans as he cums all over your pussy. The hot, sticky, spurts of his release painting you a sinful white.

He kept rubbing, riding out both of your orgasms, dragging it out for as long as possible, as much as your bodies could take.

“God, sweetheart. I love you…” he whispers, once your breathing slowed down and you returned back from the depths of your orgasm.

“You're my best girl.”

                                                    This might be the hottest thing I've ever written someone come give me a medal.

And wait you did.

---

 Hands folded neatly in your lap as you sat on the soft duvets, clothes tossed somewhere near the end of the bed. You were shivering with anticipation of what was about to come.

You barely heard the soft click of the door as he walked in, steady and slow footsteps that echoed in the quiet of the room.

“You listened,” the words dragged you out of the haze you had been in, like cold water on a fevered body. “You're precious, aren't you?”

You felt a gush of arousal seep down your wet and waiting hole, coating your inner thighs with shame and excitement.

Steve Rogers had a way with his words, and you were known for falling victim to them. Even when he chose silence, one look, one glance from him was all it took to drive you to madness.

Smiling— pleased with you—he stripped off his shirt with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. Every measured movement emphasized the hard lines of his shoulders and the thick curve of his biceps. His bare skin glowed under the soft light of the lamps, the raw strength corded in his muscles a sight to behold.

Dragging the chair to face you, he sits down heavily, his eyes never once leaving yours. His bulge was clearly visible underneath the soft material of his sweatpants, and you found it endearing that he was just as affected as you, despite the control and restraint he put on so perfectly.

“Now…” he begins, eyes drifting towards the headboard. “Get comfy.”

Dragging yourself till your back rested on the soft headboard— thanks to Steve and his immaculate choice in furnishing to make sure the time he spends with you in here doesn't leave you hurt— you look at him as he pulls out his half hard cock, palming it gently in his hand.

“Tell me, baby, what you do when I'm gone.”

A wave of shame took over you as you remembered the times you touched yourself in his absence.

“I use my fingers, an—and that toy you got me.”

He hums, a quiet acknowledgement to your words, already imagining how pretty and pathetic you must have looked rubbing yourself, crying out his name.

“Show me.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips, and you part your legs open to give him the full, unobstructed view to your slick pussy. The cool air of the room in your hot centre, along with his unrelenting gaze making you squirm in your place.

He doesn't react in loud, showy ways—merely a clinical observation of something that seemed mildly intriguing. He leans back, arms crossed as he waits for you to start.

You were drowning in nerves. He had seen everything, he had touched everything, yet touching yourself—presenting yourself in front of him like that seemed like the most wicked thing ever.

Stop it! It's Steve. Your Steve. He'll take care of you.

Your hands were shaking, fingers unsteady as you reached down to gingerly touch your mound. You look up— seeking his approval— as you press down on your clit with two of your fingers.

“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “That’s too hard, baby. Slower. Warm your body up.”

You yank your hand away, biting your bottom lip as you figure out how to warm your body up. Usually, it was Steve’s lips on yours, trailing kisses down your neck and your chest, his hands that groped and caressed your soft body that made warmth spread all over. But without him?

He seemed to understand exactly what was going on in your mind as he chuckled at your confused face.

“Touch your tits… just like I do. Play with your pretty nipples for me, baby.”

God… he really was going all in.

You nod your head as best as you could. Your brain was feeling all dizzy from just how intense the situation was. Just how vulnerable you were. Just how loved.

You drag your hands up your stomach, feeling your skin break in goosebumps as you go higher and higher, reaching the curve of your breasts. You caress them with gentle hands, squeezing them lightly—just feeling their weight and softness in your hands.

You reach higher still, and the first brush of your hand against your still soft nipples made you jump, the sensation so foreign, so powerful for something so menial.

You slowly run your hands over your sensitive nipples, heat curling low in your belly with each soft circle around your slowly hardening peak.

Once completely hard, you pinch them between your thumb and your forefinger, twisting and turning them slowly.

“Just like that…doesn't that feel so good?” he rasped, and you look down to see him stroking his cock, now completely erect and leaking precum in shiny pearls of white.

“Mmhm…s’feel so good,” you whine, already breathless.

“Good girl. Now spit on your tits. Get them all nice and shiny.”

Your eyes went wide at his words. But you did exactly what he told. Collecting saliva in your mouth, then spitting it straight down your chest. The thick, warm glob dripped down slowly, marking its trail across your sternum.

You swipe your fingers over the sticky wetness, dragging it over to cover your tits, circling your nipples. The extra slip it offered made the act so much more filthy. Your nipples were now pebbled into achy, hard buds and the more you rubbed them, the less it felt like relief and more like punishment.

On the armchair, Steve looked like a mess. A controlled mess, but a mess nonetheless. Pupils blown wide, chest panting, lips parted as he breathed in harsh inhales and exhales.

Seeing you like this was something out of his dirtiest dreams, the fantasies he has when he was young and stupid were now playing out in front of him and he didn't know how to stop himself from ruining the moment, take control and lose himself in you.

But he knew he had to.

For you.

For him.

“Does that hurt, baby? Too much for your tits?” He coos, voice rough like gravel but somehow still sickly sweet.

“Show me that pussy, love. Show me my girl…” as much as he liked seeing you toy with your tits, he needed to see you become a mess.

You nod, eyes half lidded already as you take your wet fingers to your pussy, parting your wet, sticky folds open with your fingers, baring yourself completely to him.

You hear him take a sharp inhale as he watches your juices drip down from your hole, clenching around nothing but air as it begs for him. Your clit was swollen and throbbing, dancing in the dim lights.

“You're so pretty… my pretty little girl. Did you miss me?”

His pretty little girl. He was talking to your cunt. You couldn't help the whimper that bubbled up your throat, far too gone at the way his words wrapped around you.

He squeezed his cock at the base, angling it just right so you could see his swollen head that shined in the dim lights, all the mess he'd made before even cumming.

“I miss you too, sweets. Just as much as you miss me.”

This time, you weren't sure if he was talking to you or your pussy. And you didn't care. Not really.

“Steve….please!” You whined, loud and shameless. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed him so bad.

“I'm here with you, aren't I? Just do as I say,” He purrs, amused at how needy you were for him to continue his instructions.

“Swipe your finger up and down your lips, baby. Play with the mess your pussy made for me.”

Your eyes close shut as you dipped your finger down to your drooling lower lips, running your fingertip up and down the soft, slippery skin.

You hear a strangled groan, and wet, stroking noises that sped up with each passing second. The veins of his neck were bulging now, the restraint threatening to snap each time your finger dipped in your pool of nectar.

“Fuck— just like that. Now touch your clit, little taps,” his brows furrow as he demonstrates the movement on himself, tapping the head of his cock softly, precum leaking out with each one.

Your mouth felt empty all of a sudden. Wanting to be full of him, his taste, his scent as he used you for his pleasure. He was the prettiest man you'd ever seen and how you got to call him yours was still a mystery to you.

One you don't think you'll ever figure out any way, but you're grateful for whatever past you did to deserve him.

You slowly pull at the hood concealing your clit from him, revealing it completely.

Tap!

Your back shot straight off the bed in a clean arch, pleasure shooting down your spine in intense bouts.

It was anything like you’d ever felt before. The teasing, the wait, the way his eyes bore straight into you and captured every single move, every single twitch of your body —it was too much.

“God—Steve! I—”

“You're doing so good, angel. Don't stop...” he hissed, squeezing at the base of his cock like you would.

You moaned out his name, though barely audible, drowned out in your pathetic mewls and cries.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Three consecutive taps and you could feel them in your limbs, running through your nerves endings and settling deep inside.

“Fuck…” he growls. “Put them inside. Slowly.”

You made an incomprehensible noise, somewhere between a yes and a curse.

Teasing your finger against your clenching opening, you slowly dip inside, just to the fingertip.

You felt so full.

So warm and wet and fluttery inside. So fucking tight.

You pause, chest rising up and falling down in a frantic pace, trying to get hold of reality.

Steve seemed to do the same, waiting for you to start moving again, just holding and caressing his heavy, full balls in his hand.

You cry out, your legs shaking violently as you push inside more. Down to the first knuckle, then more and more till you couldn't take no more.

You try to find that one spot inside you, but you knew damn well you wouldn't. It was only him that could do so. He knew your body more than you ever could and he prided himself in it. Being so in tune with you— owning your pleasure.

You pull your fingers out, a string of your wetness dragging out, connecting your hand back to your pussy. And then slowly plunge them back inside.

You do it over and over— curling your fingers upwards as you feel your walls tightening with each pass. Your jaw fell open as you feel the heat rising in your core.

You were close.

And he was too.

You could tell. His abs tightening, his hands shaking, his eyes fluttering close, and his breathing going ragged. He was close.

“Cum on me, Steve. I want your cum on me…”

His eyes tore open as he registered your words. He nods, a haste and shaky move, as he stands up and comes closer—climbing on the bed. Never once stopping stroking and twisting up and down his hard cock.

He leans down on you, shielding your body with his bigger, stronger one. His blue eyes looking straight through yours, then falling down at your bitten lips.

He doesn't give you another breath to take, instead engulfing your lips with his. The kiss wasn't soft, it was all biting and panting and licking inside each other's mouth, pouring into each other what words never could.

You felt his cock drag through your folds, and you whined into his mouth, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulder, feeling his bare skin.

He rubs the head of his cock over and over your already overly sensitive clit, massaging it in ways he knows would ruin you. Breaking the kiss to look down at where you two met, he groans as he feels his balls tighten painfully. He was at the edge of falling and he didn't want to stop. He couldn't.

Your face was contorted with overwhelming pleasure, your chest brushing his with with each heavy breathing you took. Your nails digging into his skin, sure to leave marks.

“Cum for me, baby. You're being so good for me, so fucking good.”

Your vision blacked out, sparks all across your eyes as your orgasm hit you.

You screamed into his skin as you found yourself drowning under its waves, too deep to ever get back up.

He shuddered over you, biting your neck to muffle his moans as he cums all over your pussy. The hot, sticky, spurts of his release painting you a sinful white.

He kept rubbing, riding out both of your orgasms, dragging it out for as long as possible, as much as your bodies could take.

“God, sweetheart. I love you…” he whispers, once your breathing slowed down and you returned back from the depths of your orgasm.

“You're my best girl.”

                                                    This might be the hottest thing I've ever written someone come give me a medal.