#nomad!steve rogers

[navybrat817]

Steve + 9. "Don't even think about getting out of the car."

Oh, Eva. 🫠

Direct Order

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve doesn't like that you ignored his direct order.

Word Count: Almost 900

Warnings: Arguing, slight angst, stubbornness, slight feels (it's me), Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Another overprotective prompt ficlet. Thanks, Eva! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The night air was cool and refreshing as you rolled the window down, but it went back up before you could appreciate the breeze against your skin. You shot Steve a glare who didn't acknowledge you as he drove. You didn't like uncomfortable silence, but you didn't attempt to fill the time with small talk. Not since he decided to rip you a new one in front of the team an hour ago.

You just wanted to go home.

“You have nothing to say?” Steve asked, his voice low. “Must be killing you to go this long without talking.”

You fought the urge to kick the dashboard since the car didn't do anything to you and smacking him could cause an accident. “And it must be killing you that I didn't fall in line today like a perfect little soldier,” you said with a sardonic smile. “Or would you prefer I act like a doll?”

“You ignored my direct order,” he growled as he gripped the steering wheel. For a moment you thought he’d bend or rip it away. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You sneered before facing forward. “Jesus Christ, give it a rest. You berated me enough on the quinjet and I don't need to hear it again.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough for you to see the anger brewing. “Damn right I berated you because you never listen to me.”

The tension thickened. You didn't typically argue with Steve. You went against him once and now he was saying you never listened to him? Where the hell did he get off?

“Don’t you dare lecture me about not listening to you when you’re the one who never listens to anyone,” you argued, feeling a hint of satisfaction when he clenched his jaw. “And I made the right call. I stand by that.”

The mission was a success because of your decision.

“You don't make the calls. That isn't your job,” he snapped, the tires squealing as he made a rough turn. “You could've been hurt or worse. Don't you get that?! You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“But I wasn't hurt! And me being stubborn? Pot meet fucking kettle, Rogers!”

“Captain,” he said through his perfect teeth.

“Captain,” you scoffed, your blood boiling. “You are not my Captain right now. You're just some guy who wormed his way into driving me home after running his mouth.”

You shrieked when he slammed on the brakes, bracing yourself on the dash when he ran a hand through his blonde hair and bitterly chuckled. It was a foreign sound coming from him. One that made you shut your mouth. “Some guy? Now I’m just some guy?”

Concern flickered across your face. Yeah, you were mad, but you didn't have to push. “Steve. I mean, Captain, I-”

“I’m not just some guy and I’m not just your Captain,” he cut you off, stopping you when you reached for the door handle. “Don't even think about getting out of the car. We’re not done yet.”

“Why should I stay? So you can snap at me some more?” You mumbled. “Would you treat Bucky or Sam or anyone else like this?”

It wasn't fair to try and make him feel bad. He was your leader for a reason and he gave you an order. You didn't follow it. He had every right to be pissed off. By all means he had the right to bench you, too.

But why was he taking it personally?

All the anger fell from Steve’s face as he leaned across the seat more. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened, too. “Why are you sorry?”

“For snapping the way I did,” he said with a shake of his head. “You just scared me today. I get scared every time you go into the field, but that was the first time you…”

“Didn’t listen,” you finished for him, your heart pounding when you realized just how close he was. If he leaned in any closer, his lips would be against yours.

“And you are right. I have a hard time listening to others myself,” he said, smiling when you snorted. “But I don't give you orders for you to act like a perfect soldier or doll. Just like I don't give Bucky or Sam or anyone else orders just to have things done my way. I do it to keep you as safe as possible. It would break my heart if something happened to you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes went wide. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” You asked, your stomach doing a funny flip.

He chuckled, the sound much warmer than before. “So, you do listen.”

“Most of the time,” you teased, staring into his eyes. You could see how much he cared. No wonder he took this mission to heart.

“Arguing aside, you did well,” he praised, which sent heat to your cheeks.

“Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’ll forgive you for ignoring my orders if you let me walk you to your door.”

“And I'll forgive you for snapping at me in front of the team if you come inside and have a drink,” you countered.

You didn't expect him to move his mouth to your ear. “I’ll only come inside if you say ‘please’,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. “And that's a direct order.”

Yes, sir. ❤️‍🔥 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #chris evans #chris evans x reader #nomad!steve rogers #captain america

[peachesofteal]

Floorplan

Steve Rogers/female reader 2.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Nomad era Steve. Reader and Steve have a baby together, mention of pregnancy. Possessive Steve Rogers. Praise kink. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Orgasm delay/denial. Could be considered toxic. Steve has issues with boundaries. Angst. Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.

Steve Rogers is keeping a secret. 

It’s heavy, heavier than most, this you know without a doubt, because you carry it as well, it’s existence a variable in your life that you never expected, never even imagined, if you’re being honest. 

A variable that ties him to you, indefinitely. For eternity. For better or for worse, without the papers or proof, the only exception being the small infant that sleeps in the room down the hall, while her father has you pinned against the bed, fingers digging into your thighs, splaying your body wide for him to do as he wishes, because you’re so fucking weak.

“Steve.” You hiss, word drawn loud from your mouth when the tip of his tongue works in tandem with his fingers, playing your clit easily, hips eagerly rocking against his face. 

“Pillow, honey. Don’t want to be too loud.” He murmurs a reminder into your cunt, crooking a finger up against that spot, the sweet spot that waits for him inside your body, working you into a mindless haze, building you up closer and closer to an orgasm until you’re panting, curve of your spine shining with a glimmer of sweat. “That’s it, that’s it. Almost there.” He hums, pulling away at the last second to peek up at your face, beard wet with you, absolutely soaked with your arousal. It glistens in the low light of your bedroom, and he smirks before going back to his meal, dotting gentle and slow kisses down the inside of your thigh that make you whisper desperate pleas. 

“Steve, please, don’t-“ Don’t stop. Keep going. Please, please, please. 

“Shhh. I know.” He coos. “Just need to get you ready for me sweetheart, that’s all.” And, if you weren’t so lost in the haze of your pleasure right now, you’d probably have something sharp to say in response. He always does this. Brings you to the edge over, and over, makes you wild for him, ache for him, just so he can pluck your strings perfectly, harmonize your need with his since your mind won’t budge, his possession of your body always tipping you over the cliff and into his arms, every time, without fail. 

Even a sailor lost at sea needs an anchor. 

And he is lost, has been, for some time. Since Bucky. Since Tony. Since he broke everyone out of the raft and went on the run, dipping in and out of towns and cities across the globe. 

That’s how you met him. That’s how you brought him home one night, that turned into two, that turned into more, and more. Your greed, your desire overriding your good sense because he was leaving soon, and he wouldn’t be around, and it’s all just some fun- I can keep a secret, Steve, you don’t have to hide from me. You’re safe with me. We’re not even together, just enjoying each other’s company, yeah?

You never thought you would survive it, loving him. Loving a man who’s not a man at all, who’s lost in the wilderness, who’s relearning everything about himself and the world all at once. Cast out by his country, his own namesake. Living on the run. Living with his band of misfit toys. 

So, you kept it to yourself, even though he didn’t. Even though you heard him whisper it to you in the middle of the night, when he thought you must be asleep. Even though it felt like obsession, possession, both ends burning the midnight oil. You kept it to yourself, kept the smile on your face, kept the swell of your emotions at bay. 

If you don’t love him, it won’t be as bad, when he goes. When they move on. 

Then, Steve Rogers did something he didn’t even know he could do. Something he didn’t intend, he claims, something he was told should be impossible. 

He gave you a baby. 

He gave you a baby, and everything changed. 

You’re just about to spit out something insistent, something needy, as he calls it, when you’re being moved, flipped over to your belly with no warning, the warmth of his chest bleeding across your back. His beard tickles against your ear, mouth pressing sweet kisses to your temple, and you can smell yourself on him, the proof of your weakness for him all over his face. 

“Here we go, good girl. I’ve got you.” The solid weight of his cock lays between you, the spill of his pre come smearing against the inside of your thighs and then inside of you, the heavy, thick head pushing in little by little, your mouth drooping wide on the pillow. 

“Ahh-“ you groan. It bites, the stretch, the sting of it all, and he knows, he loves it, and you do too (even though now you never tell him, because it’s not like before, not like when you weren’t the mother of his child, not like when things were simpler, when you could have walked away, when you weren’t falling down the rabbit hole with a man who has lost his entire identity, his country, his life-)

“God, honey. What a sweet little pussy you have for me, huh?” His teeth find the skin of your neck, below your jaw, and they graze with a nip, light pressure to punctuate his ownership. For me. For me, for me, for me. “Just perfect. My perfect, good girl.” You try to bite back the moan that rises in your throat but it’s impossible, and he’s no fool, the curl of his smile imprints across your skin, cock sawing in and out of your body like you were made for it. 

He says you were, of course. That you were made for him, and for no one else, and he doesn’t care what happens in the next year, or two, or ten. You’ll always be his. He’ll always come back. He’ll always be here. 

“What will you do if… when you go home, to America?”

“I’ll bring you both. Put you up in a place. Or maybe I’ll buy you a house, honey. With a white picket fence and everything. Give you another baby. Give you two more babies.”

“Steve-“

“No, no. Don’t.”

“Steve.” You whine, still mouthing the pillow, fingers tight in the sheets. You clench down around him, unable to keep yourself from barreling towards your orgasm any longer, and he whispers encouragement in your ear, soft praise of how good you feel and how wet and are you going to come for me, honey? You going to give a me a good one? Let me feel you squeezing my cock with it?

Your first orgasm comes with ease. So does your second. 

Your third comes with tears that he laps up across your cheek, as too many words get stuck in your throat. I love you. I hate you. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you to leave. 

It builds, each time he slips inside the house at night, each time you come home from work or errands and he’s sitting on the couch reading a book, or sketching, just waiting for you and Emmaline. It builds and builds, when he’s got you bent over the kitchen table, cheek pressed to the wood, sinking his cock into your body with an unmatched fury, breathing claims of ownership against your skin. Mine, for me. My girls. My baby. 

“Maybe I’ll give you another. Fill you up until you’re overflowing, get you pregnant.” It’s an overload, a killshot straight to your heart, your nervous system, and it engulfs you in fire, your body clenching around his cock involuntarily, like all it wants is to be bred by him, fucked deep with his come until you’re round with his baby, again. And he knows it, knows it too well. Sees the way your eyes shutter, can feel the way your body begs for it. You want to come, and he’ll torture you with it, dragging it out until you’re breaking apart. “Go ahead, tell me honey. Say it, do you want it?” 

“Y-yes, please. Please, daddy.” 

Everything you carry, all the tangles, the snarled mess that exists in your heart for him surges, and his hand sneaks between the mattress and your body to cup your belly, palm warm like a brand. Like it’s always been, now, and before- 

He holds you from behind, hands flush overtop your navel, stroking the roundness of your stomach with longing affection. 

“How’re my girls today?” 

“Tired.” You shift, and he hums in response. You’re about to snap at him about being here in the first place, remind him he can’t just use his key whenever, let himself inside whenever, but his hands drift to the bottom of your belly and lift, robbing you of all the lectures and rebuttals as the pressure on your spine is instantly relieved. 

“That better sweetheart?” 

He’s deep, so deep that it burns, head of his cock punching against your cervix, hitting that spot repeatedly. You gasp, burying your face in the pillow, smothering the shriek of your moans. He’s close, you can tell, you can feel it, the way his muscles start to become rock, the strike of his hips against your ass moving you further up the bed until your neck is craning to the side to avoid the headboard.

“Here it comes honey, lie still, just- just let me- let me give it to you.” It’s a stammered slur being pushed out through a too tense jaw, restraint burning in his muscles, arms cradling you like a precious, rare gem to be coveted, something more important than duty and a shield. 

Later, he’s still in your bed, even though he said he wouldn’t be. 

He’s heavy, and hot, so hot that you don’t need a blanket when he holds you. You find it fascinating, even more curious that your own child runs hotter than normal too, more evidence of the clear truth that both you and Steve are working vigilantly to hide and disguise. 

“You should sleep.” He’s insistent, and your lashes flutter closed with a big breath. 

“You don’t have to stay.” He wants to. He’s stubborn about it. It’s the reason he gave for appearing on your doorstep earlier. 

“Why didn’t you call? I would’ve come sooner.” 

“It’s not like I know where you are these days.” 

“Don’t. Don’t… start this.” 

“She has colic, Steve. There’s not much you’re going to be able to do, we just have to ride it out.” 

“I don’t care. I’m here.” 

He was the one who had managed getting Emmaline to sleep earlier, rocking her in his arms until she settled, sweet little baby finally succumbing to lullaby of sweet dreams in her dad’s arms. 

He’s so good at it, taking care of her, understanding what she needs and when, that you hardly sputtered a protest when he clicked her door shut and pulled you in for a kiss, pushing you into your own bedroom and laying you out on your back, a hand pinning your stomach to the sheets, another gripping your thigh wide for him, his strength forcing your body into a trap, where you were powerless. Stuck.  

“I guess I gotta put both my girls to bed, right? Isn’t that what you needed? Just needed daddy here, honey?”  

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll get her, when she gets up.” The fire of his skin makes everything in the room feel heavy, feel heady, and it’s so easy to slip into your imagination to pretend, dream about a world where your relationship wasn’t shattered, where Emmaline’s dad wasn’t just a shadow in the dark half the time he’s in the house, in her life, in yours. 

“You can’t just keep coming here, acting like everything is normal.” You whisper to the ceiling, but he doesn’t respond, just hums into your skin, deaf to your sense, your logic. 

You’re right. You know you are. Why can’t he just see that?

“Steve.” You pick at him. Pushing and pushing, careening closer to a breaking point, an inevitable end when he will sigh with the weight of exasperation, and then ease himself out of bed and disappear into the night. 

“This is the normal, for now.” He says instead, a rebuttal that takes you by surprise, a change in his usual course. Fingers stretch over yours with a yank, pulling you closer into the bend of his body. “But it won’t always be like this. We’ll go home soon.” Home. It sounds nice, but feels like a threat, considering this has been your home for years now, and this was where you were raising Emmaline, and this is where you had settled into life, started a career, put down roots. 

“Steve, I’m already home.” You remind him and he chuckles softly against your brow. 

“Are you?”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #steve rogers smut #peaches writes #steve rogers x female reader #mcu #nomad!steve #nomad!steve rogers #chris evans fanfiction

[rainydayfix]

Take One

pairing: Nomad! Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: Nomad!Steve Rogers fulfills his sex worker partner’s wishes until he can’t take it anymore.

warnings: 18+ content (MINORS DNI!!!), smut, lots of fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex

word count: 3.2k

Notes: Please do not copy, steal, etc. My ask box is currently open if you want to send fic ideas / imagines / etc.

Snippet: It was a miracle any thoughts ran through your mind but you couldn’t help but wonder how his hands – that had been through so much war, endured so many scars and callouses from fighting - could bring out something so heavenly from you. Maybe it was the fact that his hands hand been used to defend and protect so unabashedly that made them capable of showing an equal amount of devotion.

“I thought about what you asked for,” you said, resting your head on Steve’s chest as you settled in for the night. “And, I want you to finger me.”

“I always finger you,” he joked, lightly tickling you at your sides.

“No, I want you to only finger me,” you repeated. “Over and over again.”

You and Steve talked about fantasies you wanted to share. You both moaned between the sheets when you were in a race to hit that space where nothing else existed but each other. But, when he first asked if he could help you out on camera, because that was one of his fantasies, it was still a bit of a shock – leaving you a couple of days to digest, to ponder, to re-ponder, to really think about what you could ask him to do.

As your first video together, you finally settled one idea: him fingering you relentlessly. It was genuinely a fantasy of yours. You knew your body and what you liked, and always found it exciting to see your partner discover it too. And it was a blessing that Steve didn’t rest on his stamina from the serum to do all the work.

“Why only fingering?” he questioned softly. “Why not more?”

“You know why?” you answered, trying to tiptoe around one of the reasons you only wanted fingering. Truth be told it was that you weren’t ready to do a full length video with him yet. Your stream had a good fifteen videos on it so far. Thousands of followers who loved seeing your curves, seeing you naked, seeing you come. But your sex work always came with a caveat making partners turned on before becoming jealous and distrusting, or being distrusting from the start and making you feel cheap.

That was just men who were regular Joe assholes. This was Steve Rogers. Retired Captain America. Now Nomad. He stayed in the shadows. Popping up online, no matter how many creative angles you could try, someone would figure it out. Who you were. Who he was with. Where you were. Then come the headlines. The jokes. The invasion of privacy. You hoped deep down making a video out in the open with Steve wouldn’t change things, but you knew it would. “Not even you can hide underneath all this,” you finished, gingerly teasing his full beard.

A small groan seemed to be his only response. You could feel his pensiveness clench his muscles.

“I just - “ you started, before turning in his arms to face him. “I want us to be us for as long as we possibly can. And, blasting America’s ass on the internet will have the vultures coming around in a heartbeat.”

That made him break out into a small smile at least. You couldn’t help but lay next to him in silence as your fingers caressed his face – the deepened wrinkles on his forehead, the laugh lines, the freckles. Blinking up at the ceiling, deep in thought, he turned his face towards yours and gently took your hand into his. He brought it to his lips, taking his time to plant soft kisses along your fingers.

“When do we start?”

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

You know Steve asked if he could help. But you couldn’t find it to answer him with your actual voice. He ended up sitting on the bench at the end of the bed - with that ever-cool patience and calm he possessed. Positioning everything just right seemed to be the only thing to settle your nerves. It wasn’t like you were new to this. You set up the equipment a couple of dozen times before – sometimes for videos to post, sometimes with videos that didn’t make the cut. You set your phone set high on the tripod over the bed in the exact angle that would show your breasts down to your feet, if you poised your legs up right. You made sure the lighting was right – with soft lamps centered on your vanity and at your bedside.

As you slowly ran out of things to do, you started to realize you only started the channel with one person in mind – yourself. But now there was someone else you wanted your videos to mean something for – Steve.

“I’m gonna put the final touches together,” you said softly, giving the tiniest curtsy when his hand reached out for yours. He pulled you between this legs. How could a 240 lb superhero seem so small in your arms yet take up your entire world?

“This won’t change anything, this is just for us,” he reminded, running his hands over your hips and reaching his head up to nestle his lips between sternum. Your hands ran through his thick hair, gently bringing his face up. “I know,” you smiled down at him, taking his hands in yours before letting him go. “I’ll only be a minute.”

One minute turned into more than a couple of minutes as you changed your outfit. Steve honestly doesn’t need much to get going, but your “branding” wasn’t exactly in mind when you picked out the lingerie. From a technical point of view, you wanted something that showed enough skin from your breasts to your hips as the camera’s angle pointed downwards away from your face. For yourself, you wanted something that was simple but special – nothing said that better than see-through black and lace. Your hands ran over the delicate floral pattern as it shaped your taut waist, and the stockings that were lightly attached to the garter and underwear. After putting on the finishing touches of light make-up, you looked yourself over once more in the mirror before opening the bathroom door.

All of the equipment stayed exactly the same, but you weren’t the only one that had changed. A small array of candles were lit alongside the drawers across the room. The softest low-fi music played from the stereo. And, Steve stood next to the bed having changed into a long black shirt and pants, matching exactly what you wore. His eyes bore into you with an intensity that paled into comparison to the soft romantic set-up around you.

“Are you sure you just want my hands?” he asked, his voice deep and almost raw. He inhaled sharp but slowly, looking you over as his hands seemed to unconsciously rub together.

“For right now, yes,” you said – it was taking everything in you to not just shove the shoot aside and just let you fuck for the hell of it. There was so much about his body that you loved, and somehow restricting yourself to only his hands made you want him even more. The part of you that pushed you to save it for the video, caused you to turn away from him slowly before handing him the remote control and slowly crawling up the bed, trying to give him as much of a show as possible.

Once you settled onto your back, you reminded yourself to breathe as you could see Steve in your peripheral check the angle of your placement on the bed with the lens and press record. You forced your eyes to stay peeled on the ceiling, knowing that if you looked at him too soon you might call the whole thing off. It seemed like forever before his weight sunk on the bed next to you, his presence becoming a safe haven and a master in control.

When he was fully settled next to you, resting his weight on his arm, he whispered, “it’s just us.” His lips planted softly against yours, you immediately felt it start to leave you breathless and wanting more. Carefully, he left a trail of wetness as his tongue and lips ran down your neck, as his hand traveled over the rim of fabric covering your breasts and towards your stomach. Your breathing steadily grew heavily, when you felt his nails dig into your hips before gliding across your lower stomach and under your underwear.

You were careful to not shuffle too much, not wanting the position of your body to skew out of view. You also didn’t want to seem too over-eager as you peeled the underwear lower. A small smirk lifted from Steve’s mouth as he discovered you were already wet. One of his fingers dipped lowly, lightly skimming your outer lips before delving further. He didn’t seem to be in a rush and it was killing you. You couldn’t help but let out a deep breath as he added another finger, just playing with the power his touch had on you. He took you licking your lips as an invitation as he brought his fingers to your mouth, letting your head bob against them for a few seconds before he placed them back where they belonged.

He started with his digits pushing between your lips to your core, not wasting any more time, causing you to sigh heavily. It was exactly what you wanted. His motions mostly focused on dipping in and out of you, experimenting with the pace of rough and slow. When his fingers hit your inner lips in the perfect way, he alternated to hitting your core. Just like his cock that fit inside you perfectly, Steve knew the right amount of thickness and how to curve his fingers to create the same tight fit. You thought you were close to hitting your first orgasm, when he switched up the position, pushing his middle and ring finger deep inside you, and letting his other fingers pad against your inner walls. Your moan filled the room as your hand dipped low to hold yourself open a little more for his palm to slightly tap against you.

“Fuck, just like that, almost there” you gasped, as you felt your wetness coat not only his hand but slip down between your thighs underneath you. The concentration on Steve’s face, the way his eyes invited you to come all over his hand, pushed you over the edge as your moan was caught in his lips on yours, your tongues thrashing against each other. The first wave washed over you, as he finally let you up for air, and his fingers slowly returned to the caressing he had started with just minutes ago.

You didn’t expect the initial orgasm to take so much out of you, your eyes falling shut a little too quickly for your taste as well as Steve’s. You felt his hand gradually leaving you feeling empty, and the weight of him next to you lightening a bit. When he returned a second later, you felt something soft and plastic roll across your collarbone, and over the rim of your brassiere. Your eyes shot open, when you felt the odd object pulse against one of your nipples and over to the other. You caught the hot pink device looking small in Steve’s massive hand – your vibrator. The one you used in the video that Steve said was his favorite. That bastard.

His heavy breath brushed against your ear. “You can’t quit on me now. I’m just getting started, honey,” he instructed, in a gruff tone you’d never heard before he nipped your lobe between his teeth. He turned the device on and off again as he made sure to let it sail smoothly over breasts and across your stomach, just close enough for you to feel it pulsate through the lingerie. Once the vibrator made it towards your heat, you opened your legs further for him, letting him know how ready you were for him to give it to you.

This time he wasn’t waiting to take it slow and steady like he did before. This time he turned on the vibrator to the first setting for a few brief seconds, and then the second – the one that usually made you come within minutes. The only problem was that he held it right between your clit and lips – not letting you do anything to give him permission to go further or deeper. He was within the reason of pressing the vibrator right where you need it and perfect distance of making you yearn for his touch.

“Oh god, baby, please,” you cried out, and was silenced immediately, as he plunged the vibrator into you. Steve didn’t mess around with the pressure of the touch; he just let it pulse against your folds. It felt like an endless divine tease. Seconds gave way to minutes. Minutes felt like it gave way to eternity. You felt like you were heaven without actually crossing over the through the gates. You looked over at Steve with hooded eyes, wondering how much this man could possibly know exactly what you wanted without saying words, as the coil within you began to tighten and tauntingly refuse to unravel.

Gradually, the arm that was resting near your head slipped under your neck, lifting your face upwards. Knowing he wanted you to watch what he was doing, you helped by slightly lifting yourself up onto your elbows, prompting your eyes to roll back into your head before refocusing on the full view of his hand thrusting between your legs– the black of his shirt wrapped towards his elbow, and your lingerie, contrasted with the hot pink glimpses of the vibrator. It was a miracle any thoughts ran through your mind but you couldn’t help but wonder how his hands – that had been through so much war, endured so many scars and callouses from fighting, could bring out something so heavenly from you. Maybe it was the fact that his hands hand been used to defend and protect so unabashedly that made them capable of showing an equal amount of devotion.

Steve’s body tilted towards you closer, you could feel his cock through his pants on your side. “I wish it was your cock inside me so bad,” you whined, as he suddenly dropped the vibrator and replaced it with his hand, practically fisting you. Your focus stayed on the continuous pounding of his hand that matched the throbbing of the vibrator and thensome for as long as you could. You never wanted it to stop, and Steve almost made you feel like it was never going to. Your one hand gripped the sheet underneath, while the other wrestled to reach for Steve’s arm as your head bowed backwards, as your body finally let go, and you released a high pitched squeal. Steve slowly lowered your head back against the bed, kissing away some of the tears that had freed themselves from the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks, as everything in you crossed the finishing line. You could of sworn you heard him mumble ‘good girl’ before asking if you were all right, making you nod in response as your hands reached up to run through his hair and wrap around his arms.

You laid there for several moments, letting him hold you, caress you, plant kisses everywhere. You didn’t know if this was the end of your recording. You weren’t sure if you had another round in you. You weren’t sure if two times would be enough to follow with what you had on your stream already. You just wanted to rest with Steve, as much as it seemed like he just wanted to rest alongside you. He brought his hand up long enough for you to see him run it along his lips, coating his palm in his spit before dipping it inside you. You guessed he wasn’t done with you just yet as his hand splayed itself against your core– his middle finger found its home deep inside you while the rest of his palm rested on your inner and outer lips.

When his mouth started to trail down towards your collarbone, and towards your breasts, you helped him nuzzle your corset as low as it could, just letting your nipples peak out from the top, enough for him to paying attention to one, and then the other. His mouth grappled your breasts, back and forth, before he settled on one while his hands picked up the pace of strokes. It had been a long time before you felt an orgasm building from more focused attention on your delicate folds. But the ease with his hand swiping at you and the way his mouth enfolded around one of your nipples pushed your body to accept that he was building that eden in you again.

The slight slits in Steve’s palm seemed to ever so gently and rapidly rap against your opening, testing the limit if you could come against his motions. Gradually, your moans – the only sound in the room – was mixed with his own. One deep groan, one you’d never heard before surprised you, of ‘fuck it’ – signaled a swift change that took your breath away. Steve’s mouth left your breasts, his hand left your core, as he moved over you. Everything happened so fast – you helping Steve fling his shirt over your head and his pants down around his ass, a loud thud mixing with the pillow above your head getting roughly tossed to the side of the bed, and Steve filling you up with his cock. His arms snaked above you, as his weight practically pinned you to the bed. You reached down towards your ass and moved the flesh away to hold your thighs open for him more. In a matter of milliseconds, he was animalistically fucking away all of the tension that had been building up between the two of you. The mix of of his hands padding away sensitively at your core, and then every inch of you getting railed, was almost too much to bare. You actually surprised Steve lasted as long as he did before taking matters literally into his own hands. Both of your moans echoed in the room as his thrusts grew messier and faster as you hit another high, and he hit his first, feeling him empty his essence inside you. Once the pace of his thrust sfinally began to smooth over and stop altogether, you laid underneath him, your arms wrapped underneath his above your head.

“That was….” Steve began to say before, his words tapered off. All you could do was nod. His hand started to nuzzle the side of your neck, the coarseness of his beard brushing against your face as your lolled your head to the side.

“….only the beginning,” you finished his sentence before his head whipped up and in the direction yours was facing. Your phone had been knocked to the ground along with the tripod, lying next to the pillow Steve had tossed around aside. The realization drew a laugh from both of you. You were sure there was enough material you and Steve would be happy to post if you had to cut out the grand finale. There was no need for words or apologies, not being entirely sure if the phone had been damaged from the fall...the only thing you could do was reconsider what you could plan for take two.

#nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #nomad steve rogers #marvel smut

[holylulusworld]

Holidays on the run (2)

Summary: You and Steve didn’t part ways on good terms. What happens when you end up in the same cabin on Christmas?

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: language, enemies to ???, cliché tropes, snowed in, banter, angst, mentions of former imprisonment

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

<< Part 1

“So, how did you spend your free time since the big showdown?” You watch Steve walk back into the living room after he changed into an old shirt and a pair of jeans. “If you refuse to talk to me, this will be a fucking long night.”

“That mouth on you,” he snaps at you. “See, you don’t have manners and show respect to no one.”

“Why should I respect someone betraying his team, friend, and the world? You ran to play hide and seek with your old buddy.”

“I ran as I had no other choice. The moment I decided against signing the accords things went downhill. Ross would’ve never allowed me and the others to come back. Bucky was innocent. He did not kill T'Chaka. It was all Zemo’s doing.”

“Well shit, Cappy,” you chuckle. “Why not explain the situation to Stark, Ross, and the others? If your friend was innocent you could’ve…” You huff. “I guess Tony is pissed because your friend killed his parents.”

“He wasn’t himself back then. They used him like a blunt tool. All the things they did to Bucky…” Steve’s features sadden. “If only I knew he survived the fall. I could’ve…”

“…Done shit.” You shrug. “Did you forget that you landed in the ice to save the world? Bucky would’ve been their tool of destruction either way. How should you have known he survived the fall?”

“Tony will never talk to me again. And Ross, he’ll arrest all of us for worse than insubordination. I cannot give them Bucky’s location. He’s safe and at peace for the first time in over fifty years.”

“Hmm…” you walk toward the window to stare into the darkness. It doesn’t feel right sending Steve away, but at the same time, you don’t want to get involved in another fight. “I was at peace here too, Captain.”

“How can you compare your situation with Bucky’s? He was brainwashed and armed with a new cybernetic arm. For over fifty years, he was forced to eliminate people at Hydra’s order.

“Christ, get a room with your buddy, Rogers,” you grunt. “I didn’t have an easy life after you and your team kicked me out. What did you think would happen to me? Huh?”

“What do you mean?”

You twirl around to glare at Steve. “I got kicked out of the Avengers. No one would hire me. I gave up the chance to work for the FBI and ended up without a job. I had to come here as I had nowhere to turn to.”

“We got no home and no place to stay either. If we had one, I’d offer you a place to stay.”

“Lie.”

“I did not lie,” he grumbles. “You know that.”

“Yeah. But you would hate taking me in.” you give Steve your best bitch face. “Am I right, Captain? You never liked me. Not only my attitude.”

“It was difficult to work with you. We just didn’t…click.” He crosses his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge. “Not like me and Natasha or Sam.”

“We didn’t have to,” you make air quotes, “click.“ You shake your head at your stupidity. It was stupid of you to believe the Avengers saw you as a team member, an equal even. “I get it. You didn’t like me from the beginning and decided to turn me into an outcast.”

“You did this to yourself.”

You’ve got enough. “Fuck you!”

Steve gasps when you unlock the door. “What are you doing?” He watches you open the door, swallowing thickly as you grab his bag to throw it out of the cabin. “Y/N!”

“Get out of my sight and cabin. You’re not welcome here!” You storm toward Steve to wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging hard.

“Y/N, stop. I won’t leave!”

“I don’t give a single fuck if you are homeless at the moment or shit. You want me to respect you? How could I respect a man who never showed compassion when it comes to someone else but his buddies!”

“Y/N…doll,” he sighs. “I’m a drifter in an unknown sea. All my life I wanted to serve and protect people. Now everyone I respected and worked for turned their back on me.”

“Welcome to my world, Captain,” you snap at Steve. “That’s exactly what happened to me thanks to you. If you get sent home for insubordination by Captain America, your life is over.”

“Shit,” he sighs deeply. “I didn’t know my decision affected you in such a manner. All of us believed you’ll find a new team in no time. You’re strong and smart. Just a little too hot-headed.”

“Says the guy starting a war for his buddy.”

“Can I stay for a few days? We could talk about Strange and the things he said. Maybe you’ll see, I’m not the bad guy in this story.”

“No. You’re not the bad guy, but the asshole ruining my career.” You drop your hand from his wrist. “You can stay until the snowstorm is gone.”

Steve watches you walk back toward the door. You slam it shut and turn back around. Tonight, you won’t talk to Steve. You walk past him. 

“Y/N, wait. Listen…I…”

“Save it, Captain. You should have a rest too.”

“No! I—stop!” Steve breaks through your bedroom door when he hears screams coming from inside your room.

“Y/N! Down…I…” He looks around the room, frowning as your dog jumps onto your bed to nuzzle your cheek. “Doll, are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Go back to your room.” You don’t look at Steve, too ashamed to admit that you are suffering from nightmares almost every night. “Nothing happened.”

“You’re having nightmares.” He steps inside your room. “That’s not nothing.”

You roll your eyes. “What do you want to do about it, Captain? Do you want to sit on the edge of my bed and tell me everything is going to be alright? Cause that won’t work.”

“Why do you have nightmares?”

“That’s none of your fucking business. I told you to go back to your room and leave me alone.”

Cerberus nudges your upper arm. He whines and tries to get your attention. 

“Your dog is a protector.”

“He’s well trained, is all. That’s not rocket science if you know how to treat a dog right. Respect and authority in balance. The dog must respect you and accept your authority. In return, you respect the dog for being the wonderful creature they are.”

Steve watches you pat Cerberus’ head. He wonders if he made a mistake casting you out. Maybe you would’ve been a strong ally. A reliable one, knowing to distinguish a lie from the truth.

“As I said. A good dog,” Steve mumbles. “Can we talk about your nightmares now? You looked like you’re fighting the devil himself in your sleep.”

“Hydra. Or rather the wolf hiding behind Shield’s façade,” you sneer. “What did you think happened to me when I had to leave the Avengers? I tried to work for Shield. Sadly, the first guy I met was Rumlow, and I immediately knew he was a lying son of a bitch.”

“You knew? Why did you not…?” He cocks his head when you turn your head to not look at him. “What happened?”

“I don’t know how he knew…but he knew that I saw through his façade. I ended up in a cell, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.” You shudder as memories of your time with Shield flash up before your eyes. “Rumlow knew what I’m capable of too. They forced me to use my powers when they interrogated people. I tried to resist but… I didn’t stand a chance..”.

You sniffle.

“Hydra knows how to make you compliant,” Steve softly says. He steps further into the room, nearing your bed. “You didn’t lie when you said you feel at peace for the first time.”

“I can’t go out there and risk that Hydra finds me again. I just can’t…” your voice cracks. “Please don’t make me go out there.”

“I won’t.” Steve sits on the edge of your bed. “I promise. If you go out there, I’ll be by your side from now on…”

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader #nomad!steve #nomad!steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n

[onsunnyside]

⋆⁺ ☁︎ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, soft!Steve, nomad!Steve, neighbours-to-lovers, smut: sexual content (blink and you’ll miss it), angst, the blip: implied/mentioned characters (& reader) getting blipped

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | He’s a man on the run and you’re a chameleon soul, and if only things were as simple as they seem. 

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.56K

𝗔/𝗡 | I realized I hadn’t written any angst yet, and as someone with a guilty pleasure of angsty fics, I was appalled. This is an au of where steve went while he was on the run, set between CACW and/after AIW. Heavily inspired by Lana Del Rey’s Video Games, Lucky Ones, and Ride (& the monologue). All mistakes are my own. [all asks]

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everything surrounding you is mellow and comforting. The sun had long set, taking away those burning white rays, and leaving the humid summer air in its wake. You inhale once, and then again. 

Behind you, he shifts, his cotton shirt is smooth against your back, and his foot brushes yours. Heat radiates from his skin and it soothes you in ways that words can neven describe. 

Living like this feels like an art form itself, which only makes it ironic since you aren’t doing much at all. 

You wonder if you blink, you’d slip back into that drift. It wasn’t a place, no, it was everywhere and in everything—to you, it was a state of being. 

An inconsistent course of muted colours and blurred faces, forgettable names spoken in unique voices and memories that bounce between heavenly and awful. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments in that drift. 

You had always been a little wild at heart, and as you grew older, fewer and fewer things and people could keep you tamed, satisfied—still. 

That obsession for wonder and freedom sent your life into a spiral that has landed you in cities all over the world, with people of all kinds. In a way, they are with you now, all those experiences have brought you here, and someday, this moment will bring you to another. 

Hopefully, one with him. 

He didn’t like when you spoke like that though, he wanted you to know he’d always be there. Most times, you found yourself believing him, and other times you let his voice play over whatever tune was stuck in your head. 

Life was an open road, and him—he was a beautiful, vast garden on the side. And for the past year, you’ve been picking your collection of coloured petals to keep in your pocket. Every time you’d pick a flower, two more sprouts and, they’re always more intricate and stunning than the last. 

A large part of you wanted to stay here forever, to be with him until you’re old and grey, and it took a few months for you to admit that to him. Not because of pride or fear, but because of false hope. You didn’t want to plant seeds of faith into his heart, only to crush the seedlings with the tires of your motorcycle. 

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.” 

You cocked a brow, lowly muttering his name, “Grant, if that isn’t a way to doom a relationship, I don’t know what is.” 

And he understood your hesitance, Steve was all too familiar with the style to up and run, hell, he did it for half a year before landing in this blip on a map. 

That’s where you were similar. Of course, for different reasons—ephemerality is woven into your soul, while his was the cause of a circumstance and the fact that he was a wanted fugitive. 

“—and postcards, lots of them,” Sam’s voice is equally excited and sorrowful, “and the nice ones, none of those crappy, flimsy ones that won’t survive the trip.” 

Natasha is different, there is a tinge of happiness in her green eyes but her face is serious, deadly even. “Keep in touch, and I mean it. Hide all you want, I will find you if I have to.” 

“You sure it won’t be the other way around?” Steve chuckled, embracing her tightly. “Something tells me you’ll both be off on a wild adventure soon… I hope you’ll tell me about it when we meet again.” 

That was over a year ago. And since then, he’s sent dozens of postcards to them, each with short descriptions of his life in point-form, never going into too much detail. His old phone was tucked into his nightstand, it was only for emergencies since he could still be tracked if the government tried. 

In this little town, life was good, simple with next to zero worries hovering over his head. Here is the sun was the most radiant. 

You were a true ghost, if Steve could call you that, but that also meant you were a clean slate. A fresh start that he’s craved so deeply, a new beginning that he deserved. 

You’ve been on the road for years and are a master hitchhiker, he knew that much. You’ve lost count of the miles, the places you’ve occupied and the souls you’ve met. You didn’t have a cellphone, a television, or read the newspaper. You had no clue who he was, what he’s done. 

Although, the long hair and thick beard were to thank for that cluelessness as well. 

No one in this town knew who he was, and with that, he was able to create someone new. Grant was someone untouched by the Avengers, the Accords and unscathed by any extraterrestrial existence. Just him. Only him. The sole performer and artist, creating his own story as he goes on. 

“You aren’t even looking at the clouds, Grant.”

“I am,” he answers, that charming grin growing wider by the second, “they’re in your eyes.” 

“I have clouds… in my eyes?” 

“Yeah, c’mere and let me see if I can make anything from it.” He’s quick to pull you closer, his hands cupping your face. His blue eyes sear into yours, so full of adoration that it makes your knees a little weak. 

You press your hands on his chest. There’s a faint thump beneath your fingertips, and it’s almost in time with yours. “See anything?” 

“Hm? What?” He blinks, those thick lashes fanning across his cheekbones. “Oh, just got a little lost, you know…” His finger hooks under your chin, bringing you closer, “…in the clouds.” Your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss. 

The delicacy reels you in and silences those pessimistic voices, and now in the quiet, you follow willingly. 

You’ve been hurt before but Grant—dearest Grant could destroy you with a single sentence. The worst part is that you don’t have to tell him for him to know, he was well aware of the effect he had on you, the way you’d fold if he asked. It was a foreign feeling you had never felt before, and it scared you. 

You felt vulnerable with him despite the glass that has moulded to your skin, keeping you protected yet, within your own terms, exposed. 

And him, he’s only ever made you feel safe and secure with that openness. 

Blooming from that comfort, that freedom to mess up, be understood and be forgiven, is love. With stupid absolute, you’ve fallen in love with him. 

Yet you don’t even know his real name. To you and this town, he’s Grant, to the rest of the world and planets in far places, he’s Steve Rogers. 

“What’s got you actin’ so sweet today? Have you done anything that you suddenly regret?” You ask with a slight glare but there’s no heat behind it, nor your question. 

“I may have forgotten to load the dishwasher before coming here… also think I forgot my ID, so if we get pulled over, you’ve got to do the talking.”

“Oh, as if Marco gives a crap about us all the way up here.” You turn away again, leaning on Steve who was sitting on the hood of his car. Below the cliffside is one of the smallest towns you’ve ever seen. 

With a population in the low hundreds, one local school, bar and extremely limited contact with the rest of the world, it was a stark contrast to the big, sparkling cities you’ve experienced. 

Definitely not stellar.

“Ugh, this town fucking sucks. It makes me wonder why I even stayed this long—not like anything is keeping me here anyway. No hot steamy year-long romance to keep me tied down.” 

Steve laughs sarcastically, pinching your hip. “Ha, ha, baby, you ever think of doing stand-up?”

“Yeah, I’ve dreamt of it,” you play along as your head sinks into the crook of his shoulder, “but I think I’ll stick to my one-woman show at Jerry’s dingy bar.” 

As if you could call it a show, it was more like grabbing the microphone between shifts and singing whatever new song the live band had learnt. 

Over the years, you’ve picked up odd jobs in whichever city you landed in, and as for performing, you’ve done it before in motels, restaurants, and bars. Never staying too long to create a name for yourself, rather just leaving out of the blue like a fleeting moment, a fever dream to the citizens. 

At the beginning of your journey and by your fifth city, you realized that temporariness fuelled that insatiable hunger for freedom. 

Looking back, you acknowledge the variety of taste, colour, and sound. In that state of being, in that drift, you are truly alone because you are lost in it, and being without yourself within yourself is a scary thing. It’s something you’re all too familiar with from being on the road for so long. 

“You just belong everywhere, huh?” Grant asked in awe at your endless array of stories from travelling the world, “Like a chameleon—you stay all the same, but change just enough to blend into wherever you are.” 

“You talk about it like it’s a talent.”

“It is.” He sat up straight, running a hand through his hair. “Not everyone can survive anywhere at any time—let alone, be happy and thrive from it.” 

You’ve always searched for a home, often making do with the kindness of strangers, but when you met Steve there was nothing else that could compare. 

Being alone once is enough, and meeting new souls is magical but being in his arms for a few moments is unrivalled. 

You loved that freedom, but you loved Grant—Steve more. Your commitment to him has stretched to a year, and despite becoming a recognizable face in this town, you don’t want to leave without him. 

You’ve spoken about skipping town someday, you want to show him your favourite cities, and hopefully meet up with those kind strangers who have helped you in more ways than one, some of which you only know the first name of. 

“We’ll always have tomorrow to decide.” You closed his notebook, ending his pros and cons list of travelling further East versus going up North. “And if we still can’t choose tomorrow, then we have the next day and the day after that. This free lifestyle doesn’t come with itineraries, Grant. When will you get that through your pretty head?”

Infinite time meant your obsession will never go unfulfilled—which also meant an infinite amount of time together, and endless chances to show Grant everything you want. 

That’s the difference between the two of you. 

You believe there is a tomorrow, there will be another opportunity to hold him like this, to feel his breath on your lips. 

Steve knows different.

You live in the land of tomorrow while Steve lives in the present.

His bag is packed, his suit is laid out on the lumpy mattress and his plants have already been given to Mr. Carter who lives down the street, a kind old man who took them with a joyous grin. 

“I knew it, you kids are finally getting out of here while you can.” 

Kids, as if Steve wasn’t over a hundred years old. 

Mr. Carter brought Steve in for a weak hug, his fragile bones only allowing so much. When he pulls away, his wrinkled hands gently cradle the potted plants. “Wish I was as wild as her. If I were young like you, I’d do the same thing,” he trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You are both lucky to do it together.”

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth and just nodded. “Yeah, luck.”

He hasn’t given up on you, nor what the both of you can create together. He’s postponing it—setting it in a box and stuffing it under his bed, he’ll be back for it, and for you. He’ll return once the world is repaired and he can finally formally retire. 

Is it worth it to break his own heart, to break you, to protect the entire universe? 

“Grant? What’s wrong?” 

Steve is quick to make up a lame excuse of being tired because, of course, he can’t tell you. 

He’s bitter about it—god, he’s allowed to be selfish sometimes. He’s given his life to the world and to the people who inhabit it, he doesn’t regret that but you, he’s been selfish for the past year by keeping you tucked away. 

Not even Natasha and Sam know the details, all they know is that he found a reason to stay in the shittiest little town on the planet. 

When his phone rang, he was surprised to hear Bruce, half-expecting and half-hoping for it to be Tony. 

It didn’t take long for him to get into that mindset again, to be the captain that everyone needed. First on his list was to meet Natasha and Sam, they probably already know what happened in New York while you and this town couldn’t be more clueless. 

That’s why he loved it here. 

He wanted to take you with him, but he couldn’t consciously put you in danger. He was fortunate enough to be unrecognizable in this place and he can only imagine the shock when you realize who he really is. 

You didn’t even know his last name, he was just Grant, the man who moved in next door and had accidentally got your mail one too many times.

He tried to drop it off one afternoon but you never answered, so he scrapped the idea of respectful introductions and slipped it under your door. This went on for a few weeks, he learnt a bit about you—your name, and how you had plenty of friends from so many different places. 

It made him wonder why you chose a town so tiny it fits into the palm of his hand. 

One day, the yellow door swung open. You were standing there in an oversized t-shirt with a mug in your hand, “So it’s you.”

“Uh, yes?” He answers awkwardly, ducking under his cap as a force of habit. He’s been in town for over a month, yet no one has recognized him yet. A random stroke of luck. “I live next door, I keep getting your mail.”

“Paula is just getting up there with age, I don’t think she can read as well as before.” You take the envelopes, skimming through them before tossing them on the counter. 

His gaze drags over your features, your hair and eyes, he takes notice of the sunlight shining around you like liquid gold. Okay, maybe he needs more friends if his heart is racing at the sight of a pretty woman. 

“Why don’t you answer your door?”

“Heavy sleeper.” You yawn, “I work nights at the motel, and come back and sleep all day.”

“Oh,” when he realizes he’s still on his knees at your door, he quickly stands, dusting his jeans, “I’m—” Steve, “Grant, I’m Grant, it’s nice to finally meet you.” 

You look between his face and his outstretched hand, a slow smile crawling onto your lips. You introduce yourself, shaking his hand. “I’ll tell Paula about the mail, hopefully, it won’t happen again.” 

And when your door shut, he couldn’t help but hope it did. 

The next time you met, it was because of a local stray cat. 

It was the fourth night in a row that Steve was sitting on the park bench outside the apartment complex. The can of cat food sitting next to him, opened as the smell wafted to his nose. He taps his foot on the ground, checking his watch. 

Then, the lobby door opens and you walk out, this time in a loose dress with a leash in your hand, and a familiar little animal by your side. Suddenly, that cat darts to the left. 

“Inky, hey! Calm down!” The harness slips from your hand, making you jerk to the side and nearly lose your shoe in a jagged slab of concrete. 

Inky? Steve doesn’t have a chance to question the name before the stray springs onto his lap, nudging his hand before finding delight in the canned food. “Hi, Rocky, how have you been, fella?”

You stumble in front of him, an apology on your lips before you notice that baseball cap atop long, blond hair. 

“So it’s you again.” You squint down at him, “he’s supposed to be on a diet.” 

Steve’s brows furrow, “what?” 

“I thought he was getting a little thicker, and it’s because of you.” You crouch down beside the bench, untangling the leash from his stubby legs. “I’ve been feeding this guy for weeks, I noticed easily.” 

“He’s a stray.”

“Not anymore, I adopted him.” You correct, “really recently actually.”

“But I’ve been feeding him since I got here.” Steve frowns, leaving out the fact that he’s also told many secrets to the animal, enough to even rival Bucky’s knowledge. “He’s—his name is Rocky.” 

“Inky.” You sit next to him, reaching over to pet the cat, rubbing between his ears, one of them missing the tip. “I guess I can't take away your only friend…”

“I have friends.” Steve is quick to reply. 

“In this town?” You ask skeptical, “I’ve never seen you leave your apartment, and no one else knows anything about you.” 

That sparks his interest. “You asked about me?” He smiles, pink lips drew into a grin. 

Your eyes widen before you turn away, and an odd bubbly feeling fills your stomach. You clear your throat, “Anyway, I suppose we can work out an arrangement, co-parenting this little thing can’t be that hard.” 

You both decide on Inky spending weekends at Steve’s place, and somehow those rotating weeks turned into dinner invites that bled into nights on your couch, talking about yourselves and nonsense. 

And soon he was walking into your apartment unannounced, making you dinner before you woke up to go to the motel, and later, he’d be there when you returned in the early hours, sleeping on the couch with Inky on his chest. 

Your first kiss was on that very bench too. You took Inky (or Rocky) to watch the sunrise on one of your days off, and Steve couldn’t look away from you. 

He likes to think that he made the first move, but he knows that’s wrong. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers before peering up at him with those soft, tired eyes. When your lips met, it was like everything had suddenly made sense—the steady growth from neighbours to friends, then to kissing on the park bench at seven in the morning. 

It only made it harder to leave you. 

At least Steve knows that in every lifetime, he’d choose you. 

In a way, he believes he has met you a million times and yet this is the one when he becomes aware of it. 

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.” 

What an honour it would be—but that could be his inner masochist speaking. 

In those million times, he’s chosen you every chance, and that little voice of doubt asks if you chose him too—or if he just got lucky this time. 

Of course, you did, you’ve told him every day. In different ways, quiet ways, by waking him up with a massage, dancing with him in the kitchen, and sitting still for hours while he sketched you. 

Steve didn’t work, his excuse was a hearty inheritance from his family, but in truth, he had a few duffel bags filled with cash that he withdrew before going on the run. Being in this town for a year has barely made a dent in it, and he can see himself spending days on end here, with you, and with Rocky. 

Everything he’s going to do is for the long run, so he can come back and hold you in his arms, bathe in your glow and feel it igniting his cells. There’s nothing like it, like being with you. 

He almost hesitates when getting into his rental, his hair falling into his face as he stares at your opened windows, the breeze flutters your curtains. 

You got back from work a few hours ago, your final moments together were spent in the bathtub as he had you once last time, touching and feeling you against his skin. Then, he carried you to bed, memorizing every inch of your face before he cooked you dinner for when you woke up, alone. 

He’s left you the keys to his car, placed the duffel bags outside your bedroom and the letter on your nightstand. Rocky was following him around until he shut the front door, locking it and sliding the key into his pocket. He could hear his quiet meows through the wood, alternating between pleading and curious, as if he were asking, “Where are you going? Why are you leaving” 

The blistering heat is going to be cruel the next few days and he fixed your air conditioner the previous night, but you won’t know until you read the letter. 

Right now, he doesn’t even know what it was. An apology, or a promise, it felt cowardly if anything—could it be his final words? Not the last one, he dreads that sheet of paper being the last piece of him in your life. 

When Steve returns to the town, his confidence in the dry dirt, and any resilience is swept away with the snap of golden fingers. Natasha nearly flew straight over it, mistaking it for being a ghost town. 

After getting off the jet, reality settles in. Less than half of the inhabitants remain, and he’s only spotted a handful, all wearing matching expressions of confusion and despair. 

He races up to your apartment, shouting your name and banging on the door but he receives no reply. 

As if the world had been sucked of colour, the yellow of your door isn’t as fresh as he remembers. The corners are crackling, and more importantly, the doorknob is different. 

The key he’s guarded feels heavy, and all of sudden, his chest constricts. The air is thin, barely supplying enough for him to stay upright before he braces himself on the doorframe. God, even the smell is different—it doesn’t feel the same, it feels off. 

That impurity wraps around his ankles, yanking him into the darkness and he reaches for something, anything, which happens to be the tattered welcome mat under his feet. The new key is shiney, gleaming up at him like a cruel reminder of how much he truly hurt you. 

He almost thinks you left too. Abandoned this town because your voracious appetite for freedom won again, and there wasn’t anything left for you here so you went to search somewhere else. 

This town was in your past, just like the rest. 

But no, this is far worse. This is a nightmare. 

There’s a cellphone on the couch, and an old television on your coffee table, the price tag still stuck to the side and it’s on, it plays reruns of the news from a neighbouring city, it’s fuzzy and full of static but he can make out the headline. 

“Billions of Mysterious Disappearances Worldwide.” 

Half of the world, half of the universe is gone. They lost. 

He forces himself to look away, wiping the tears from his eyes to focus on something else. Despite the new devices, the duffel bags are still sitting untouched, unopened and full. 

The dishes are left in the sink, trash is in the bin, and the windows are closed with the dull hum of the air conditioner filling the room. 

Then, he spots the half-empty glass of water on the table, the condensation dripping onto the wooden surface. 

Tentatively, he calls your name once more. He’s in denial, the syllables hammering into his head as he waits for you to answer—for you to appear in disbelief as he stands in your living room, dressed in a dirty navy uniform with a cut above his brow, and blood on the corner of his mouth. 

Steve waits and waits until the final plane of glass beneath his feet breaks, and with that, his heart falls into the depths. It crashes into the ground, lying in a bed of memories and anguish. 

He sinks into the couch, clenching his gloved fists, the television fades away as his final string of hope is severed. 

First Bucky, then Sam, and now you. 

Your apartment is empty, void of any life, or so he thinks before he hears quiet patters on the hardwood before a small, furry creature enters his view. 

His right ear is missing the tip, his eyes glow with interest before he darts towards Steve, leaping onto his lap. He holds that cat like he’s a lifeline, burying his nose into his fur, soaking the coat with more tears. 

There’s a collar around his neck, Inky/Rocky is carved into the metal plate, along with your address. 

There are footsteps in the hall, then Natasha is standing at the door, holding her hip with a pinched expression. She has dried blood on her cheeks, and her blonde hair is messy. 

They rushed here, barely having time to collect themselves before Steve was madly hunting for a jet. Right now, she didn’t have to ask any questions to know the answer. Her green eyes survey your apartment, the signs of your abrupt disappearance are all too obvious. 

There are only a few picture frames hooked on the walls, but all of them have Steve and you, a few even have that little cat too. Steve looks happy in those frozen moments in time, smiling so casually while always touching you—you’re in his lap, under his arm, or pressed against him until not a sliver of air is between the both of you. 

To her, this apartment feels homey, no temporary pressure hangs over, just potential. Something planned but not to the book, a simple promise for more. 

If she had to name it, she’d pick the word tomorrow. 

There was going to be more here, or there was going to be more that came from here. Whether it moved to another place, there was going to be more, that was definite. 

And meeting Steve’s eyes, she knows she’s correct in more ways than one. “I’m sorry, Steve.” 

He knows, and he is too, but not for himself.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go !! wrote most of this one night while listening to Lana and i’m very proud of how it ended out, i haven’t written much angst here yet so here’s to the future !! And of course, free to send asks about this fic !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #sonny's stories #nomad!steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x you #reader insert #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #tomorrowland au #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic

[luxeavenger]

At Least It's Roomy...?

Day 10 Kinktober prompt: Temperature Play

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: Temperature play, vaginal fingering, piv sex, nomad Steve (yah, you betcha he's a warning)

Words: 1706

My fics have not been showing up in the tags, so I'm relying solely on reblogs to get them out there. So I'd be so very grateful if you could reblog. To everyone who has been reblogging—ya'll are rockstars!

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Buy me a coffee: Ko-fi

Being on the run from the government with Steve Rogers has been something else entirely.

Too much adrenaline. Not enough sleep. Always watching. Always ready to move out on a moment's notice. Go bags always within arms reach. Hiding in some of the most questionable places one could imagine.

This ice cream freezer is in a little shop somewhere just south of the Canadian border. Steve had done a favor for the owner years ago, and she was happy to stash you both somewhere out of the way while you waited for transport.

“Steve, this is a freezer.” You scowl at him.

“Yes it is.” He smirks back at you.

“It wasn’t a question, smart ass.” You ram him playfully with your shoulder when he snorts a laugh.

He pulls on the latch to open the door, and looks inside. “At least it’s roomy…?” he says with a shrug.

You grumble, but your heart really isn’t in it. This isn’t even close to the worst place you’ve had to hide.

“Sam’s on his way, so it’ll just be a couple of hours, sweetheart,” Steve promises earnestly, and kisses your temple.

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m just grumpy. It’s still loads better than the swamp incident.”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about that anymore-”

“Yeah, I know,” you fuss. “If we’re getting in, let’s get in.”

Fifteen minutes after locking yourselves into the freezer, your teeth are chattering, and Steve wraps his arms around you. The heat from his body immediately seeps into your bones and you groan and push even closer to him.

He chuckles, “Feel better?”

You hum your affirmation. “Thank goodness for your jacked-up metabolism.”

“Just my metabolism?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“You want me to say your dick, don’t you?”

“Only if that’s the way you feel in your heart.”

“Okay, your dick’s nice too.”

“That’s good to know,” he hums.

You wrap your arms around him, and moan at how good his heat and solid body feel against you.

“My dick is gonna get a whole lot nicer if you keep moaning like that.”

You moan, squeeze even closer, and moan again when you feel his cock start to stiffen against you.

A low rumble bubbles out of his throat. “I’m warning you, sweetheart.”

“Mmmm, daddy. You feel so good,” you groan, cupping his ass in both hands.

“Son of a-” he growls. “Gimmie,” he grabs your ass and hoists you into his arms.

He grinds your core against his cock, and you gasp. “It did get nicer, Stevie.”

He shakes you gently. “No,” he grunts.

“It did get nicer, daddy.”

“Fuck.”

He sets you back down, and pulls a coat out of his go bag, and lays it over a stack of boxes.

While he’s fussing over the coat, you ask, “Why do you even have a coat? It’s not like you actually need it.”

“It’s so you have something to sit on while I fuck you in an ice-cream freezer.” He lifts an eyebrow at you like it was obvious. “Here,” he sits you down on top of his jacket, and bends over you so he can kiss you deeply.

He lifts your shirt up over your tits, and you gasp as your nipples instantly stiffen in the cold. You push your chest up, searching for Steve’s heat to warm you up.

“No ma’am,” he tsks, holding you back with a finger in the middle of your chest.

You shudder as your skin breaks out in goosebumps. You make a pleading sound, but still Steve holds you back.

Your nipples are painfully hard, and you just need someone to touch them, so you reach up to cup your tits, but Steve snatches your hands out of the air, and pins them over your head.

“I said, no.” The authority in his voice is unmistakable.

“Please, daddy,” you whine. “I need you.”

“I bet you do,” he teases, his body arched gracefully over yours. He skims a knuckle over one of your nipples, and you strain towards the tiny point of warmth with a whimper. When he draws circles over the stiff peak you grind yourself against the firm ridge of his cock.

“More, god, please more,” you beg.

“‘God’ is so formal,” he grins, “I prefer daddy.” He dips down and seals his mouth over your nipple, and you nearly sob at how good it feels. The heat of his mouth, the way he swirls his tongue over your skin, the scratchiness of his beard.

Because of the cold, you feel everything.

Steve switches to your other nipple, the saliva he left behind on the first nipple immediately begins to evaporate and cool. You make an incoherent noise, and roll your hips against him. He releases your hands and you automatically bury your fingers in his shaggy hair.

He lets your nipple pop out of his mouth, but stays close enough that the heat of his breath fans out over your chest when he speaks, and his lips graze the pebbled flesh.

“Tell daddy what you need, gorgeous.”

“I need-” You stop abruptly as a strangled moan leaves you, after Steve’s hot mouth switches back to the cold nipple.

He grins against your skin. “Use your words. I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Please,” you sob, grinding against him.

“Please what?”

You moan a curse when he skims his fingertips over your stomach. “Fuck, I need you inside me, daddy! Please!”

He groans, and flips your shirt back down over your chest, and pulls his own shirt off, and covers you with that as well.

You gasp, “Oh my god, look at you.”

“What’s wrong?” He looks at you curiously.

As his shirtless, and overheated super-soldier body meets the icy air of the freezer, you can see tendrils of steam curling off of his shoulders.

“I just…” you trail off. “Sometimes I forget how remarkable you are,” you can’t help the awe that bleeds into your voice, and Steve’s cheeks flush. You sit up and pull him down for a sweet kiss, which he returns with a hum of gratitude.

He breaks the kiss with a grin, seizing one of your hands in his, and brings it down to cup the front of his jeans.

“Tell daddy how bad you want his cock,” he whispers against your cheek.

“Feel so empty,” you gasp as your cunt clenches around nothing. “Need you to fill me up, daddy.”

Lightning quick, Steve has your pants stripped off, and he’s kneeling between your legs, pushing them up so you’re completely exposed before him.

He blows a soft puff of air over your pussy lips, followed by a huff of warm air. He breathes like this for a few minutes, alternating blowing a chilly gust of air over your sensitive flesh, and following it up with a warm exhale to chase away the icy air.

You get lost in the cycle of hot-cold-hot-cold, so when two of his fingers push into your cunt, it surprises you, and you arch up off the box beneath you with a cry.

He rubs his shaggy beard all over your inner thighs, “You wanted me inside of you, did you not?”

“Not quite what I had in mind,” you reply dazedly, already on edge from his teasing.

His breath heats your thigh as he hums, “Should I stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” you say, wrapping your legs around his shoulders to keep him close.

“Sweetheart, if you hold onto me like this, I won’t be able to fuck you.” He tugs gently at your legs.

“You can move ‘em,” you grunt.

“I guess I can,” he hums, rising and picking you up bodily, breaking the circle of your legs open with his broad chest. He supports you with one arm while he undoes the front of his jeans to get his cock out. The cold creeps over your naked skin, a stark contrast to all the points of unnatural heat coming from Steve’s body.

Just as the chilled air on your exposed pussy gets to be too much, Steve is lowering you down onto his cock. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and mindlessly keen his name.

Once he bottoms out, he quietly asks, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“God, you feel so fucking good.,” you groan.

He smirks at you, “I thought I told you not to call me god.”

You don’t get to respond, because he wraps his thick arms around you and starts fucking you hard. He’s holding you up effortlessly, so you grasp the back of Steve’s neck, so you can lean back, and let the cold air curl around you again, chasing it away by pressing against Steve when it becomes too much.

The heat that’s been building in your core ever since Steve laid you down on those boxes blazes through you when you come. Clinging to Steve, and groaning with every slap of his hips against your ass. You whimper when he squeezes you tight, and buries his cock in you, filling you with his heat until it’s dripping out of you in warm rivulets.

“Oh fuck,” he pants into your neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Salty language, sir,” you slur against his hair. You squeal when he slaps your ass.

“Fuuuck,” he rumbles one more time, just for good measure.

After a minute, he jolts, “Oh shit. It’s cold, isn’t it? I gotta get you covered up.” He moves to sit you down on his coat, so he can help you back into your pants, but you squeeze your legs around his hips, and arms around his neck.

“No! Don’t you dare put me down,” you growl.

He pulls gently on your thigh. “I can move ‘em, you know,” he parrots your earlier suggestion.

“Yeah, but you won’t.”

“You’re right,” he says, heaving a contented sigh and burying his face in your neck.

A fist pounds heavily on the outside of the freezer door.

“Are you guys fucking in there? You better not be fucking in there,” Sam yells, followed by a loud, and overly-dramatic noise of disgust.

“Jesus, Sam,” you yell. “Don’t be gross. It’s an ice cream freezer. We’re eating ice cream.”

Thanks for reading! Please remember artists rely on readers like you to hit that "reblog" button. For you - it's free. For us - it's worth everything.

The dripping slime from my signature is by Rivermakes on DeviantArt, and was free to use with credit.

taglist

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #marvel cinematic universe #nomad!steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve rogers x you #nomad!steve rogers x female!reader #nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve rogers smut #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve x you #nomad!steve x female!reader #nomad!steve #nomad!steve smut #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america x female!reader #captain america #captain america smut #kinktober 2022 #kinktober prompt #temperature play

[georgiapeach30513]

Chris please bring back the long hair I'm begging you please 😭🙏

Wait...what long hair are you talking about?

Exihibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C

Exhibit D

but I have a feeling you mean Exhibit E

#chris evans #chris evans with long hair #nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve #mr. freezy #james mace #syd #ari levinson

[sleepisaturn]

the beard needs to go

PAIRING—steve rogers x gf!reader

SUMMARY—You badly want to be the one who shaves Steve's beard off

WARNINGS—pure fluff, allusions to sexy times but no actual smut, the plot is mostly about Steve's beard lol

A/N—random but this was inspired by that scene of Me Before You where Will let's Lou shave his beard, also that movie will never not break me , pure heartbreak! 😭😭

In the bathroom, infront of the mirror as the morning sun rose, the couple found themselves in a very difficult situation, well you found it difficult.

" do we have to? "

" we have to ... "

" but I love your beard! and it's great in the bedroom! " You whined while cupping his face, his beard slightly tickling the palm of your hands. You sat on the counter, back against the mirror as Steve's hands rested on your hips.

" so you just love it because it makes the sex good? " Steve asked with a laugh, teasingly while tilting his head on the side.

" of course not, I love it because it makes you and the sex hotter " You reply with enthusiasm and a teasing grin in return as Steve chuckles back.

" glad to know, but unfortunately it has to go, so say goodbye because I'm shaving it tonight baby " He said with fake sadness in his tone as he sighs while cupping your face and giving your soft lips a long kiss.

" nooo! at least let me shave it "

" absolutely not "

" oh come on! please babe?? " you beg lightly while doing puppy dog eyes paired with your cute lips pouting hoping to persuade the super soldier.

" yeah that's not working " He exits the bathroom leaving you pouting as you sit on the counter top.

" bring me coffee! " You shout as you hear the bedroom door close. Steve's always the one who makes breakfast and your favorite coffee will always be the one made by him.

The rest of the day goes on with you trying your best to persuade Steve to let you shave his beard. Even as the two of you drank the morning coffee you still annoyed him with the question of let me shave off your beard?

The couple chose to go to a mall, having a mall date for the rest of the afternoon. You bought some clothes for both Steve and yourself even if he insisted he didn't need any more clothes. You even bought a couple pairs of lingerie that you knew he would enjoy, secretly that is for the surprise effect. Steve bought a couple of art supplies, hoping to start painting more for the rest of his technically retirement days.

You and Steve chose to eat at a pizza shop that wasn't too busy, a big plate of cheesy pizza paired with two glasses of cold cola.

" my beard so long I have to pick food out of it "

" I could pick the food out of it for you! "

" you're joking "

" I'm totally joking " You say with a laugh as you continue taking a bite out of your cheesy pizza slice.

Steve was washing the dishes after dinner, the plain white tee he wore getting splashed a bit by the water. He turned off the faucet as he had done half of the dirty dishes.

" Oh Steve~ " You say in a sing-song tune as you untie your robe in which you had nothing underneath catching the blonde Captain who was washing the dishes off-guard, the dirty dishes now abandoned.

He quickly captures your lips with a deep moan as you giggle, almost stumbling back with the impact of his large body. His large hands immediately held on tightly to your waist, lifting you up with no effort as he leads the two of you to the bedroom.

As you calm your breath after the great countless orgams, you rest your head on his bare chest with a smile while your hands wrap around his torso and his arms wrap automatically around your shoulders. The two of you smile with bliss as the two of you even out your breathings, still a bit red and sweaty from the tiring activity.

" You did that to convince me to let you shave my beard didn't you? " Steve says after a couple minutes with a little laugh at the end. He gripped your form tighter as his head rested on top of yours.

" would you let me shave it now? " Of course it wasn't about that but your eyes are still filled with hope as you ask him about shaving his beard. You were sad he wants it gone but you should be atleast the one to get rid of it.

" fine, I'll let you "

" I love you "

" I love you too " He replies kissing you back as you smile with his lips attached to yours.

The two were back to the position they were the previous morning after getting dressed, not the one they did on the bed much to Steve's dismay but he did find it cute how much you wanted to be the one to shave his beard and so he caved. It gave him a big domestic feeling as he looked down on your hands that were applying shaving cream.

" you're really going to do it? " Steve asked but saying it as more of a fact as you were done applying the shaving cream on half his face.

" I—I'm really gonna do this " you say nervously as you get rid of the brush you used to apply the cream for his beard. You giggle with nervousness as you slowly inch the razor closer to his face.

" just don't shave my eyebrows off, baby "

" trust the professional Rogers "

" I'm serious, don't " he said sternly but with an obvious hint of playfulness as he points a finger at you in which you point elsewhere going back to focusing on the task at hand.

He closed his eyes, his brows furrowed slightly but relaxing a second later. He trusts you with his life, completely but maybe not much on shaving his beard.

You smile in victory as you successfully shaved a part of his beard in one stroke, a bit of a stubble left behind as his beard was quite thick. Steve opened his eyes a couple times, seeing you so concentrated that the tip of your tongue stuck out made him smile in which you grumble that his smile made you distracted.

Many trips of the razor to the bowl of water, you completely shaved off the two years worth of beard that Steve grew out. You grin widely with your success, putting down the razor on the counter as you made Steve open his eyes.

" please tell me you didn't shave my eyebrows off " He asked teasingly, looking at you before looking at himself in the mirror. Traces of shaving cream left that he carefully wiped away using a clean cloth.

" nice job, doll " He said with a big smile that could reach his ocean blue eyes and continued with a quick peck to your lips. You smile after the quick kiss as you rest your head on his shoulder. Your hands are sneaking on both his sides, clasping your hands together to give him one big hug.

" I told you baby, a professional "

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #nomad steve #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve rogers #steve rogers with a beard supremacy #steve with a beard is hot #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers story #steve rogers x fem!reader #saturn writes #sleepisaturn

[justalonelyslytherin]

Happy Father's Day - Nomad!Steve Rogers

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x female Reader

Warnings: fluff, a tiny little bit sad/angsty, he is a fugitive - having a kid as a wanted criminal isn't the easiest thing and not the best decision, reader knows that and is concerned and stressed out bcs of it

Wordcount: 1.117

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: This is part of a 4 series and is a request from the amazing @nana1000night for my 200 Follower Celebration.

The divider is from the talented @firefly-graphics

Steve and Sam were out together on a supply run. Standing in a supermarket, wearing their disguises. It was the middle of the week,  between late morning and early noon, yet there was a surprising amount of commotion.

“What’s going on?” Steve wondered a frown etched on his face as he felt surrounded by celebratory items. His cap was pulled down deep into his face, sunglasses obscuring his blue eyes, and the thick beard softened the edges of his jaw. Sam stepped up to him and pointed toward a big display.

“It’s Father’s Day,” he told him. Steve eyed the display with all kinds of cards and other junk advertised for the day. His heart painfully restricted, a heavy sigh sat in his chest. He felt a strange kind of longing in him. One he couldn’t help but feel whenever the topic of children and fatherhood was brought up. 

A house, a wife, and kids. That’s all he ever wanted. The idea of it never felt so far away as it did now. He was a fugitive, a criminal. Hunted down by too many governments for the most stupid reason. Even with his dream so far away, he couldn’t help but desperately want it, crave it, to wish for a chance to get to experience it. It was especially cruel and taunting because one part of the equation he already had. Her. He had found his other half. The one he would want to settle down with, the potential mother to any child he would ever want to have.  Thinking about it made him even sadder. It made it hurt even more to think about what he wanted desperately with her but wouldn’t get because the universe would never grant him his wishes.

Sam motioned for him to go. They were already there for too long and needed to finish this up, and get back to base. Shortly after they were back in the small hideout, stowing away their goods. Natasha was watching them - watching him - from the small kitchen table. The blatant staring ticked him off.

“What?” he barked, more annoyed than he liked to be at that moment.

“Just go to her. Go see her,” she told him. Steve froze. He was deep in thought before he shook his head. They were in the area and he wanted to go meet her, but he had only been there a couple of weeks ago. It was already a risk for them to come back to a base multiple times. Doing so in such short repeats was even riskier. He couldn’t pull her into the risk.

“Steve, just go.”

And so he found himself in front of her door. He hesitated just a moment longer, contemplating turning around before he knocked. It didn’t take long for her to open, but it was longer than usual. Upon opening the door she looked sluggish and exhausted. He was concerned immediately, quietly entering before he put a hand on her cheek. 

“Hi,” she smiled at him, tired. He took her in, noticing how pale and sickly she looked.

“Are you sick?” She shook her at first, biting her lip before she hesitantly nodded. Steve clicked his tongue, taking her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her crown.

“There anything I can do to help you feel better?” He asked her softly, simply holding her in his arms. She drew in a shaky breath, shaking her head this time. It made him frown as she pulled back and turned around. She flitted through the hallway, busying her hands in a way she only ever did when she was nervous or stressed. Sensing that something was off, he stalked after her.

Her bursting into tears wasn’t something he anticipated. 

“Steve I’m so sorry,” she sobbed and he had no clue what was going on.

“Baby, no, come here,” he cooed softly, making grabby hands for her. Yet she kept escaping his every attempt to draw her back into his embrace. They flitted around her kitchen island in a game of mouse and cat. 

“What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated as her sobs continued. She was working herself up into a frenzy, he could tell, “I ruined everything.” Steve still couldn’t understand anything and kept shaking his head.

“Nonsense. You didn’t, you could never. Baby, come here and let me hold you, let me calm you down, and then you can tell me what’s going on, yeah?” He was pleading with her, the table between them making him antsy and fidgety.

Still, she refused, instead of coming to him, she fumbled with a drawer, grabbing something from within.

His heart nearly stopped beating as he recognized the small picture in her hands. Square and black and white. He had gotten familiarized enough with modern times to know what it was. The ultrasound picture lay between them on the table. Steve kept staring at it blanky, his heart beating rapidly, every sound drowned out by the rush of his blood. As he looked up at her, she looked heartbroken. Truly and utterly distressed. 

“Oh baby,” he mumbled softly, “C’mhere.”

Finally, he was able to draw her back into his embrace, strong arms around her still shaking form, one hand buried in her hair. 

“This is good,” he told her. He didn’t know how they would do it, how he would keep them safe, but they could do it. Even if he wouldn’t be able to return to her. That’s exactly what was going to happen. Everything in him was breaking as the realization settled in. He would miss everything important. There was no way he could be by her side or visit regularly without putting them at risk. 

“We’ll do it. We’ll manage,” he told her, even as his heart broke into a thousand pieces. She continued to sniffle as she leaned her head against his chest. 

They stood there for some time, quiet and basking in the other’s comfort until his phone started to ring. The tone blared through their emotional moment, ripping them straight apart. Steve was frowning again, looking at the unknown number. It was a burner phone he had. Both Sam and Nat he had saved and none else besides them knew of this number. Nonetheless, he picked up, a feeling deep down telling him he needed to.

“Hey, Capsicle. Long time not heard. Happy Father’s Day. Just wanted to give my congratulations and tell you that everything is handled. They won’t find you there. Go have your chance at luck.”

Steve was the one getting choked up now. He would have never guessed to hear Tony’s voice again. No less as a friend and ally, granting him a chance to live out his biggest wish. Steve put the phone down beside the sonogram and pulled her back against his chest. Hiding his face in her hair, his shoulders shook now. 

Turns out it wasn’t the universe that would grant him his biggest wish but his trusted friends and the love of his life.

#sly's 200 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve rogers #nomad steve

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Hide & Seek

Pairings: Werewolf!Steve Rogers x Reader (A Spin on Little Red Riding Hood)

Summary: America's golden boy becomes America's most wanted and he just found his perfect prey.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. DARK FIC. stalking, drugging, somnophilia, forced oral (f receiving), marking, running for your fucking life

Word Count: 2.4K+ (One Shot)

A/N: What? Grown ups need grown up fairy tales. 😈 Someone find me a wolf. Honestly I was shown this art by the very talented @murkycrush months and months ago by @autumnrose40 and I still cannot get it out of my head. I have a thing for the harness obviously.

Story Book Collection | Full Masterlist

Steve Rogers first caught your scent at an unassuming traveler’s stop in the middle of nowhere 8 months ago. It was your run of the mill stop for people just passing through, homey and not at all crowded that served good pie. A sleepy town with a tiny population that most people forget once it’s already in their rearview mirror. Steve had been extra careful to go unnoticed, growing out his beard and wearing his trucker cap low. He had been lifting cars at random and had been particular about not staying anywhere for too long. The rest of the time he ran. He much preferred it. Letting go into his full form and running at full speed in the thick shroud of the forests.

For the first time, Steve Rogers felt free.

It was big news when it came out. Every single headline for months read about the tragedy that happened. Captain America, an admired hero and a living legend, had volunteered to be a research test subject after it was found that his unique genetic makeup enhanced by the serum could potentially lead to a breakthrough to some of the world's most deadly diseases. It was admirable and very on brand for the Avenger, but something had gone terribly wrong. Somehow all the testing had resulted in enhancing him to unimaginable proportions, to uncontrollable heights. He was made into the perfect predator and along the way he began losing touch of his humanity.

America's golden boy had come unhinged.

It shook the nation. They say that anything enhanced had to come from something. Steve was a good man before, he still is, but all the loss that he's had to endure has jaded him. All the wars he's had to fight have hardened him. All the compromises he was forced to make had chipped away at the shiny idealism of that scrawny Brooklyn boy. He craved freedom. Freedom to make his own choices. Freedom to be selfish. Freedom to take back what was deprived of him.

So when you came into that small diner, smiling widely at the waitress as you ordered your food and gladly told her about your traveling plans, he knew he just had to have you. You were so beautiful, your face radiating joy despite the tiredness on your stiff shoulders. You pulled your red coat jacket tighter around you, pulling the hood lower to warm your face and shaking off the snow. 

Red looked good on you.

You would stay the night in the available rooms attached to the diner, he was sure of it. You looked much too tired to drive and it was getting dark, too dangerous for a woman to be traveling alone. There was something in your scent that told him that you belonged to him.

You were meant to be his.

You were passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow, your belly warm with food and the fatigue heavy on your eyelids. Your friends and family had all expressed their doubts and their worry about your cross-country adventure. It was dangerous for a woman to travel alone and there was an allegedly deranged super soldier loose, but it was the best time you've ever had in your life. It was so worth it.

Steve watched and waited in the shadows for you to fall deeper into your slumber, finding the small satisfied smile on your lips to be endearing. It was a simple matter after that to slip into your room. He loomed over you, palming his rapidly swelling cock as he took in the details of your features. You slept in only a small pair of panties, leaving everything open to his heated gaze. You were like a delectable meal spread out for him to indulge in.

You were so goddamn perfect.

You looked so inviting that he just had to have a taste. Carefully, he reached for your exposed breasts and squeezed. He sighed at how good you felt and your lack of reaction only made him grow bolder. You were more exhausted than you thought. He kneaded your breasts harder, rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers and relishing how responsive you were. He retracted his hand as you stirred, but groaned deep in his chest as you opened your legs wide for him.

"You need me, don't you? You want me to touch you some more, honey?"

His hand trailed from your nipples to down to cup your heat. Your back arched and your hips circled slowly as his hand rubbed, your panties growing increasingly damp. Still you remained sleeping and from your point of view you were having a very very good dream.

“You're just so tired, aren’t you? Let me help you take the edge off.”

His fingers shoved your ruined panties aside and dove in, slowly and inch by inch to make sure you didn't wake up. By the time he was knuckle deep in your pussy and scissoring you, his cock felt like it would explode in his pants.

“You’re so fucking tight. You’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

You sighed and stirred a bit more, the little sounds you were making as your hips asked for more from him was making his head spin. He could smell the musky scent of your arousal and he loved how your pussy was sucking his fingers back with each pump he did.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m gonna give my cock to you. It’ll fit. We just gotta stretch you out first.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips and your brows furrowed when he pressed up on that extra sensitive spot inside you. He smirked, hastening his movements and continuing to drive you higher and higher. His other hand joined the other to rub hard circles on your clit and his mouth came down to suck on your tits. Your heavy eyelids began to flutter, your unconscious mind getting overwhelmed by the fire that was threatening to consume you.

“That’s right. Give it to me. Fucking cum for me,” he growled against your flesh.

You screamed, your eyes squeezed close tightly and your body shaking as your release racked your whole body. Steve could hardly move his fingers with the way you were squeezing them so he fucked them deeper inside you as you rode out your high. You sat upright suddenly, one hand flying to your hair and the other to your chest as you tried to stabilize yourself. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, your pulse was much too quick, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead.

“What the fuck?”

You felt an ache between your legs and was more than just surprised at how drenched your panties and the sheets were. You threw yourself back on the bed and took in big gulping breaths. That was one hell of a wet dream. It had been a while since you’ve had a good fuck, but you didn’t think you were that horny.

It took you a while to fall back asleep and in your disoriented state you failed to notice the dangerous looking blonde in the corner of the room, sniffing the scent you left on his fingers before slipping the taste into his mouth. His eyes glinted in the shadows as he watched your chest rise and fall in a more regular pattern.

That was the first time Steve came to you. He followed you across the country in your travels since then and the next time he got you alone he dove straight for your cunt, his mouth lapping at your folds ravenously. Having tasted you just that little bit from his fingers made him crave you and the small dose of drugs he slipped into your drinking water at the hotel as you showered was meant to keep you cooperative because he knew he wasn’t going to let up until your scent was dripping off his beard. He barely held himself back as he waited for you to succumb to the drugs, falling asleep as you watched some pointless TV.   

He moaned and growled into your pussy as his tongue speared into you, fully enthusiastic as he explored your most intimate parts. His large hands were gripping tightly onto your thighs, keeping you spread wide for him. He didn’t stop aggressively eating you out until your cum had soaked his face and was dripping down his chin. All through it, you were in a blissful state of unconsciousness.

When you woke the next morning, that was when you felt that something was off. Something felt very wrong from how your sheets were again wet, your naked state when you specifically remembered you wore a shirt and panties to bed, and the thick woodsy smell of someone else in the room.

You were terrified.

Your terror came to it’s height when once you woke up with a blinding headache and a sticky substance on your tits. That’s when everything clicked and you began to notice the little things you had overlooked in the past few weeks. Your luggage moving, your underwear sometimes out in the open. The creepy feeling at the back of your neck that you’re being watched. Some of your needs unexpectedly being met like those times someone had footed the bill for some of your meals or the time a small bag of groceries were delivered to you by the inn’s staff. You chalked it all up to luck or the goodwill of small town folk.

You should have known better. 

It had been a week since you last really slept, the fear you felt keeping you alert and jolting you awake at any little sound. You were exhausted, but you kept yourself tediously careful in trying to lose whoever was visiting you in your sleep. You kept switching up lanes, driving in circles, riding on ferries, switching out rental cars. You did everything you could to shake him off.

You were practically dead on your feet by the time you arrived at your grandmother’s log cabin in the woods. It was the end of your travel plans, culminating at your grandmother’s old cottage that she had left to you in her will. You pushed yourself to make sure every single door and window was bolted shut and couldn’t be opened without making a loud noise before you finally allowed yourself to rest. Your body dropped heavily onto the bed, your sore muscles finally relaxing after being so tense for so long. Sleep weighed you down and you were quick to slip into unconsciousness.

You startled awake at the sound of loud banging against the heavy wooden front door. Your heart rate immediately quickened and you scooted back on the bed, tucking yourself against the wall and keeping a wary eye at the door. Your blood ran cold at the sound of a low intimidating voice that seemed to be full of dark amusement.

“Oh come on, honey. Open the door.”

That voice.

You knew that voice. You knew it was the voice that had been haunting your explicit dreams, whispering dirty words as you lay unconscious and orgasm after orgasm was pulled from you, but more than that you knew that you’ve heard it somewhere else before. Hearing it again now seemed to spark your memory, but perhaps the fear was hindering you from placing it exactly.

“Open the door. I won’t ask again.”

Steve heard you whimper from the other side of the door. He smirked as he smelled your scent and at the memory of you trying to lose him. It was a valiant attempt and he did rather enjoy letting you think that you actually had a chance. You didn’t. There was no possible way for him to lose you when your very scent was now ingrained in his mind. This destination of yours even worked perfectly for him. Isolated. Surrounded by a thick forest. Miles away from the nearest town. No one would bother you two.

Though he’s been visiting you in your sleep and tasting you to his fill, he has held himself back from fully claiming you. He wanted you conscious for the first time he fucked his cock into you. He wanted you awake when he made you cum hard around him, screaming his name and gushing around his thighs. He wanted you fully aware when he finally claimed you, marking you and binding you to him for all eternity.

It was time.

He rammed his shoulder against the door and it shook on its hinges. You shrieked from the other side, murmuring pleas under your breath for him to leave you alone. He wouldn’t. That’s not how this works. He found his perfect mate and he wasn’t about to let you go. He rammed the door again, putting more of his weight into it. You could hear the wood splinter at the force and tears began to edge your eyes.

“I won’t hurt you, honey. Haven’t I been taking good care of you?”

You screamed as the door flew off its hinges, the cold air of the night blowing in and only worsening your shivering form. You were paralyzed, frozen on the spot as you watched with wide eyes the alpha male posed at your door. His arms were stretched up over his head, the muscles flexing as he gripped onto the doorframe. 

His body was bare, showing off just how strong this predator was and that you didn’t stand a chance. His cock was fully erect, angry and leaking at the tip, and just as intimidating as the rest of him. Another scream was caught in your throat as he drew nearer to you because at that point you were able to recognize him.

Even with the longer messy hair, untamed beard, glowing golden eyes, and elongated canines you still recognized him without a shadow of a doubt. His face was unmistakable and the recent news only made him more so. If that wasn’t enough then the dog tags, the harness around his torso, and the indisputable glint of metal on his back completely gave him away.

Captain Steve Rogers.

The disgraced Captain Steve Rogers.

The hunted down and most wanted Captain Steve Rogers.

He stood before you, smirked, swiped a sharp claw and ripped your clothes down the middle. His eyes darkened in lust at the sight of you bare, that red coat jacket with the hood barely keeping on you. He looked feral. He looked like a hungry animal and by the way he was licking his lips it looked like you were on the menu.

“Hey, Red. Missed me, honey?”

#steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #nomad!steve rogers #werewolf!steve rogers #story book collection #storybook collection #little red riding hood #hide & seek

[spidey-webz]

nomad!steve coming back to his hotel room to see you already naked on his bed and waiting for him

totally not inspired by 505 by arctic monkeys

#nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #mcu #marvel #captain america

[navybrat817]

Finding Home

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve finds a home with you. Word Count: Over 1.7k Warnings: Fluff, brief angst, mention of trauma, mention of explicit sexual content, canon divergent, falling in love, slight feels (it's me), Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: It has been difficult finding time to write, but I felt compelled to share something sweet for our lumberjack. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

It was a quiet morning when Steve realized he fell in love with you. 

The sun rays warmed his skin as they filtered in through the window, beckoning him to open his eyes. By now he would normally be out for a run before he got to work, but he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed today. Not when the weight of your head settled gently on his chest. Not after you soothed him through another nightmare. He didn't have them often, but he kept you up because of them.

You deserved to rest. 

And he didn't want you to leave his arms.

"Steve," you whined, burrowing your face further into his chest when he brushed the pads of his fingers up and down your back. "Still tired."

A soft smile formed on his face as he repeated the motion. "Sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. 

You tilted your head up as you opened your eyes and brought a hand to his cheek. The sleepy expression on your face was one he witnessed before, but he swore he saw into his future as you smiled. What he saw was beautiful and hopeful.

It was everything he thought he wouldn't have before. 

"You okay?" you asked.

Those were the first words you ever said to him. 

No one asked if he needed the opportunity to adjust to being in modern time after being pulled from the ice. Or if he needed the chance to process the grief of losing those closest to him. He went back into the fight without taking the time to do so. Suffering in silence was the new normal for the man out of time.

Especially when he saw the memories of his life on display at the Smithsonian. 

He asked himself time after time why he went back there. Each visit reopened a wound inside that he never let heal. Each photo, recording, and piece of memorabilia cut deep. Tears shed in his mind as everyone saw pieces of his life he never gave permission to show.

Seeing the hologram of himself holding the shield, he wasn't sure who that man was anymore.

He thought he'd feel normal again after the reversal of the snap. Bucky and Sam were back. Natasha was alive. Things were the way they were supposed to be, but the shield felt heavy in his hand. Maybe it wasn't meant for him anymore.

"I need to find myself again."

Bucky understood. He was the one who encouraged him to clear his head for however long he needed. Sam did, too. He also told him that he couldn't imagine a world without Captain America. He looked surprised when the shield was put in his hand. If anyone was worthy of it, it was Sam. Nomad suited him best.

Because he had no home to call his own anymore. 

Steve booked himself a cabin outside of the city. He couldn't explain why he felt the urge to take a break from his drive, but the property he stopped at was breathtaking. The lush trees and soft breeze soothed him. He had to take a moment to appreciate the beauty. 

Guilt ate at him the longer he stood there because people needed him. Bucky and Sam said they'd call, but it didn't ease the weight on his shoulders. They were trying to adjust and he-

"You okay?"

Steve looked beside him at the sound of your voice. You stood on your cabin porch with concern etched on your face. He didn't realize he was standing so close to your porch. If you recognized him as Captain America, you didn't let it show.

The beauty of the scenery was nothing compared to the sight of you. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Am I trespassing?"

"Not unless you try to break into my place."

You both smiled. He wouldn't dare, but he did worry at the thought of you being out there alone. Unless you had someone nearby. 

The thought made him a bit jealous and he just met you.

"I really am asking though," you said, taking a step toward him. "Are you okay?" 

You were a stranger, but it felt wrong to lie at the sincerity in your eyes.

"No," he said before he could stop himself. "I don't think I am."

"Is there anything I can do?"

When was the last time someone offered him kindness with no strings attached?

He practically heard Bucky in his ear encouraging him to take a chance. 

"Could use a cup of coffee if you have any."

To his surprise, you agreed.

"Just to warn you," you looked over your shoulder as you turned toward the door. "I have an axe if you try anything funny."

You made him laugh when you winked, the first genuine laugh he could remember in years. 

You told him over coffee that you were a writer. As much as you loved the city, being away from the noise helped inspire your stories. You were easy to talk and listen to, a comforting presence in a world filled with fear and uncertainty. Even after he finished his drink, he found himself wanting to carry on a conversation. You didn't seem to be in a hurry for him to leave either. 

Bucky was proud that he asked you to meet him again. 

Natasha assured him that you had a clean background, even though he didn't ask for her to check. 

"Can't be too careful, Rogers, but she's good."

Dealing in a world of spies, it was nice to speak to someone who was honest. 

It became a routine to stop by and see you for coffee. He always did so with your permission. He noticed that you kept a couple of his favorite treats stocked up that he mentioned in passing. You paid attention, but didn't make a show of it. 

Steve never once felt invisible with you. 

He found the axe you referenced and chopped some firewood as a small thank you for your kindness. It was the least he could do and you were thankful that you didn't have to do it yourself.

"You know, Steve, with your beard and the flannel, you'd make a good looking lumberjack."

He took your words to heart. 

It was a risky job at times, but he was used to danger. The tasks put him at ease and it gave him a chance to use some of his strength. It brought him back to the memory of Clint's farm, but without the inner turmoil. 

When he told you he liked to draw, too, you smiled and encouraged him to keep doing it. You stressed that he needed a healthy outlet. The longer he was around you, the more he wanted to take his stress out on your amazing body. 

Oh, the chemistry was there from the beginning. He sensed it when he was close. The racing of your heart, your pupils dilating, and even the subtle change in your scent. He picked up on thanks to the serum.

But you were a friend first when he needed it most.

When he told you he was going on a mission, as Nomad, you didn't try to talk him out of it. You understood the need for him to keep fighting. You only asked if he could let you know he was okay. 

Everyone noticed a visible difference in him because he had someone to come home to.

"Bring me back something good?" you smiled when he returned to you. 

He almost missed when he attempted your first kiss. At the end of the day, he was still the scrawny kid from Brooklyn. And you were the one who stole his heart. He just didn't know it at the time.

People called him a hero, but you saved him. 

I think I loved you the moment I met you. 

"Steve? You okay?" you asked again, bringing him back to the present.

"I'm okay," he promised.

"I lost you for a second," you said, blinking more of the sleep from your eyes. "You didn't have another nightmare and not wake me, did you?"

He hated being the cause of you not getting enough rest, but you never complained. Whether it was talking or letting him use you, you'd rather stay awake and soothe him than let him face his demons alone. While many followed his lead, very few chose to walk beside him. 

"You didn't lose me," he answered. You never would. "And no more nightmares."

Thanks to you. 

He placed his hand over yours and imagined what it would feel like to have a ring on your finger. 

In time, he'd get you the perfect ring. 

You smiled before you glanced at the clock on the end table with wide eyes. "You're missing your run," you said. 

When you attempted to sit up, he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you in place. He smirked as he recalled the first time he used his strength on you. The way you chanted his name like a prayer and worshiped him like a god, it was the closest he'd get to heaven on earth. 

"We're staying here," he said, his lips brushing against yours as he caged you in. "That's an order."

"Are you ever not bossy?" you asked as he settled between your thighs. 

"You like it when I'm a little bossy," he reminded you. It always got a reaction out of you. "So stay here."

"You know what will happen if we stay here," you smirked as you rolled your hips up, causing him to groan. Your smirk fell away as your gaze softened. "But we can spend all day in bed as long as you're okay."

Steve traced his finger along your cheek, like he was drawing you on the sketchpad you bought for him. You constantly did thoughtful things for him. Seeing you like this, with the same sincerity in your eyes as the day you met, he couldn't waste another second. 

"I love you," he whispered. 

His finger stopped at your lips when you sharply inhaled, tracing them, before he pulled it away to kiss you. If you didn't say it back, it was okay. He would wait as long as he had to. 

"I love you, too."

You breathed the words into his mouth and everything felt right. He didn't do his run or get any work done that day. You didn't get a single word written. It didn't matter because Steve was a man in love. 

And Nomad found a home.

*****

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

#navybrat writes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve rogers x reader #lumberjack!steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you

[gxrlcinema]

dear maria, count me in | 🖋

Steve + “you always push people away. i just thought you’d never do it to me”

A/n: This can be read as a prequel to this drabble if you're so inclined

Warning: mentions of somewhat graphic violence

killer

Steve finds you on the balcony of the room T’Challa always puts the gang up in on visits like this. You’re straddling one of the bars of the railing, legs dangling out over Birini Zana, your hands at your side. You’d been in the same position the last time he checked in on you three hours ago. 

“I brought you some dinner,” he says, holding out the plate he brought. 

You don’t say anything, don’t even move. Steve’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. He makes his way across the balcony to your side, carefully moving to sit at your side, the plate between you.

“I don’t really know what it is but it’s really good.”

You nod, so minute even Steve’s enhanced eyesight could miss it. You don’t move to face him or to take the food. Steve’s fingers twitch uselessly at his side. He runs a hand through his hair to hide it. His chest aches. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

He watches the line of your neck bob, your red-rimmed eyes staring off, a thousand yards away from him. When you do finally say something, your voice is barely there.

“Do you still want me?”

Steve’s muscles tense at the question, almost a flinch. He sighs like Atlas.

“I love you,” he says. 

You nod. Steve watches the tension build in the line of your back. 

“Are you kicking me off the team?”

His eyes widen. “Christ, Y/n. Do you really think I’d abandon you after you went rogue for me?” He studies your profile and, finding you to be quite serious, he adds, “I still want you on my team.”

“Just not in your bed,” you say, like it’s a fact. “Not anymore.”

Steve’s jaw clicks. His hands curl into fists in his lap.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? That watching you slice a man’s neck open today doesn’t change anything between us?”

His gut rolls at the memory, the victorious smile on your face, the dark blood staining your hands. 

Your eyes flick over to his face, only for a moment. They’re back on the skyline before Steve can figure out what you saw there.

“He had a gun trained on you.”

“He-” Steve cuts himself off, realizing that his voice has gotten far too loud. He takes a steadying breath, training his focus back on what he came here for: you. “Please eat something?”

You don’t move again. Silence lingers.

“I told Natasha this would happen,” you sound like you’re talking about the weather. “She said I could learn but I knew I would never be like you, not when it counted.”

Steve’s voice goes hard. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m too lily-livered to understand what needs to be done when it’s life or death, or that I’d ever judge you for it.”

Steve’s breathing is heavy. You turn your head slowly towards him, a brow aloft. There is nothing behind your eyes. “Are you not?”

Steve is suddenly filled with the uncharacteristic urge to throttle you. His hands tear through his hair, nostrils flaring. 

“I am not judging you,” he lies. You don’t dignify that with a response. Steve huffs, shakes his head. 

“You always do this, you always push people away, Y/n!” He pulls both hands up to run them through his long hair, huffing. You don’t move. Steve sighs like Atlas again, shaking his head.

“I just thought you’d never do it to me.” 

He pushes himself up from the floor of the balcony, squeezing every emotion he has between his shoulder blades as he stalks over to the door. He’s almost back inside when he turns over his shoulder.

“Please, sweetheart, eat the food.”

You don’t move. He sighs again, stepping inside and pushing the glass door to the balcony shut.

You wait until you’re sure Steve’s out of earshot before you bring your palms up against your mouth to muffle the sobs that start to break through. You don’t wait long enough. 

Steve sits on the other side of the bedroom door, using his super hearing to listen to the muffled sobs you’re trying so hard to hide from him. He buries his face in his hands and cries too.

#ilanswers #em 🦦 #ipmoshpit #ilana hits 600! #dear maria count me in 🖋 #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve x reader #steve rogers angst

[holylulusworld]

2023 Steve Rogers Bingo masterlist

Preview for the upcoming fics to fill the squares.

Please consider none of the stories is available yet. I do not take requests to fill the squares.

Stories written for: @steverogersbingo​

A1: ??? (FA!Steve Rogers x Reader): Howling Commandos

A 2: Suspicious Minds (Endgame!Steve Rogers x Reader x Bruce Wayne): DC Crossover

A 3: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Bad flirting

A 4: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Serum gives more powers over time

A 5: Burned water (Steve Rogers x Reader): Steve is a super shitty cook

B1: ??? (Skinny!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader): Never serumed Steve

B2: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): "I never met a more stubborn person in my life."

B3: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Pranks

B4: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Hotel sex

B5: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Oversensitive / Enhances senses

C1: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Steve vs Social Media

C2: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Lap dance

C3: Dishonored (Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader; Lord Barnes x Princess!Reader): Free space - Royal AU

C4: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Puppy / Kitten interview

C5: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Veteran Steve

D1: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Bounty hunter

D2: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Deaf Steve

D3: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Wakanda

D4: Unwanted mate (Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader): Maria Hill

D5: ??? (Dom!Steve Rogers x Sub!Reader): Mental Bondage

E1: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Hand Feeding

E2: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Enemies to lovers

E3: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Brooklyn Dodgers

E4: Silent Tears (Steve Rogers x Reader): Unrequited

E5: ??? (Steve Rogers x Reader): Kate Bishop

Find more special events/bingos here: Special Events & Stories Masterlist

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #nomad!steve #nomad!steve rogers #steve x reader #endgame!steve rogers

[bubblessunshinehoney]

Day 17- Marking with Steve Rogers

1113 words

18 + only! NO MINOR INTERACTIONS

Kinktober masterlist

A/N: hey guys, i have to repost all of my 18 days of Kinktober for now. Because my account got suspended last night. Many of you might have read them already, and maybe many more of you might read it for the first time. I'm not someone who asks for reblogs, likes are find by me. But for this one time...i would be very grateful if you could reblog it. To help me go back in the game. I'm sad that i lost all my works. But so grateful i wrote them on Word... Or i would have lost literally months of prepration.

So yeah, Hi again, i'm back, hopping to get back my first account.

Enjoy

Cloudy

Don't be shy to comment, reblog or like! :)

TW: a bit of angst, rough and possessive sex, biting, marking, reader is also a widow. so secret agent

not beta read, english is not my first language, all mistakes are my own

Gif from: @mightyavngrsgrs

He was still on the run, sure. It was hard to see him, to see you, hard even to have one text or e-mail to know he was okay. So, when Tony invited you to his party, you said yes. It’s been two months without any news from your fugitive boyfriend. You needed to have some fun.

When you get back home, you smell him, but you’re sure that’s your brain making you trip. You miss him, sometimes asking yourself if you’re still his, if he misses you…if he even thinks of you. You let out a big sigh. Might have been a fun night, but at the end…you are alone. You love them both. Tony is by extension your boss, Pepper is a good friend and…Steve and the other your closest friends. You don’t know where to stand so you told them you won’t choose a side. They respect that, but you feel so lonely.

“Had fun?”, you jump and throw the knife that was cutting your apple in the direction of the voice. He catches it without effort. “Nice welcome home darling.”

“Fuck, Steve! You know I hate when you do that!”, you rest your hand on your heart and take a deep breath. “Did you follow me all night”.

“Had to keep an eye on my girl”, he growls.

“Oh, your girl?” you scuff and take another knife to finish your snack. “You remember I existed, so nice of you.”

He’s behind you in a matter of seconds, his large hands on your hips and his nose in your hair. “Don’t be a brat now, you know I do my best.”

You sigh. “I know, but it’s hard Steve. I’m alone.”

He chuckles, “Didn’t seem that alone tonight.” You push him away.

“That was my first night out in months you prick!” you tear up. “I’m fucking alone, okay? Not choosing side makes me unable to spend time with any of you!”

He’s holding your head softly, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones. “I’m here now.”

“And then you’ll disappear again. I’m tired of this Steve.”

“So, you go out and let any men touch you?”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

He gets closer “I know you, I know you like the attention, wanted to make me jealous, to make me go out of the shadows…” He kisses you hard, months of being away of abstinence, of missing each other’s. you kiss him back as hard, tugging on his hair. The bastard always knows how to make you melt and forget how mad you are at him.

He carries you to bed, not wanting to fuck you in the kitchen, he needs to show his princess how much he loves her and how much she’s his. He strips you bare and gives you’re a big hickey on your neck, you squirm and moans at the sensation. You brain foggy of wants and needs. You missed him, all of him, and if he marks you as his tonight, maybe you will feel less alone when he goes away again.

He marks all your body, little and big hickeys on your skin, your scratch him hard, marking him too, he’s between your legs, feasting on your sweet nectar, kissing and flicking his tongue on your pearl, you see starts and cums one, then twice, then trice on his tongue.

He’s back up, kissing you, biting your lip, making it bleed, you do the same to him and you dig your nails on his neck and shoulders, little half moon dent on his skin, some of them bleed but none of you care. He let you stroke him, before he bottoms out in one thrust.

“STEVE!”, you feel him throb when you clench. Fuck you love when he’s fucking you bare. Happening more and more since the Accords. No time for ceremony most of the time, only quickies in dark alleys or odd motels. But tonight, he takes his time, staying balls deep, while he gives you another hickey and you do it as well.

“you’re mine, princess, understood?”

You shake your head, wanting him to destroy you and put you back together. Want him to make you his again, make you not forget about everything you went trough together.

He ruts into you, hard and slow. Make you feel every ridge and veins of his cock sliding between your walls.

“I’m gonna mark you. Gonna cum so deep inside you that you will leak me for days. Gonna cum on your chest, face and make sure you have some on you so that every man that sees you tomorrow will know that you are taken. That you are mine”

You arch your back. “Make me yours” you moan. Steve fucks your hard and deep, mating pressing you on the bed, bending you in half, breaking you and make you forget about your loneliness. You are his right now and you can let go.

He cums deep inside you after you had already another two orgasms. Five of them, not his best performance, but he’s not done, his super soldier stamina makes him hard again in one second and his back at fucking you and making you full of him.

After your seven orgasms you can’t think or moan, you throat dry and your vocals tired. You’re whimpering, holding on to him as much as you can, you muscles being laxed with all the sensations. He strokes himself above you and cums on your chest, some arriving on your chin, and you lick it, moaning faintly at the taste, you look at him with crossed eyes and whisper, “cum in my mouth Stevie…”. He groans and his quick to shove his cock in your mouth, letting you poor fluttering pussy to have a break. He cums quickly, always has when you suck him off.

After he destroyed you, he puts you back together with the most wonderful aftercare. Bathing you, massaging you with your favourite body lotion and holding you close to him, engulfing you in his arms and murmuring to you praises and words of affirmations and how much he loves you.

“you’re mine princess and I’ll be back every time to mark you as mine.” He traces some of his hickeys, purple black and you shudder, your skin sensitive.

“I’m yours and you’re mine” you whisper, tracing the fading mark on his skin.

“Yes, you are”, he puts your finger on his hips, where a burn never went away, the scar remind both of you of the day you met.

“I’m yours since day one, my little widow”.

You smile and fall asleep in the arm of your super solider.

taglist :

@navybrat817 @christywantspizza @buckyalpine @iloveprettyboysblog @ethreal-love @nailedbymandy@captainsimagines @buckybarnesandmarvel @rogersandlightwood @sparkledfirecracker @barneswinterraven @hansensgirl @blades-and-heartbreak @runa-falls @chrisdrysdale

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #chris evans #cloudy&bellaskinktober #cevans #chris evans characters #nomad!steve rogers #nomad!steve #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fandom #chris evans fandom #nomad!steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve rogers smut #angst #hurt #hurt/comfort

[munsonownsmyass]

December - Snowed In

February - In Jail on Valentine's

March - "Oh, I'm sorry. Was that too much?"

April - Song fic with song of our own choice

#thirsty for cox #thirsty for cox writing challenge #matt murdock #frank castle #fratt #billy russo #matthias helvar #nomad!steve rogers #tasm!peter parker #ryan yellowstone