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Just the idea of Steve Rogers being your stepdad sounded like a goddamn dream. America’s golden boy, the nation’s sweetheart; you expected a gentleman to step through the doors of your home and you’d become the perfect little family.
But the reality was much different.
You were always an unruly child and hard to tame but your mom chalked it down to the difficult divorce causing you to act out as a way of coping. It was partly that, but the other side of you simply enjoyed playing on the wrong side of the tracks.
Steve didn’t like it.
Hated that you were so disrespectful. Hated the way you stomped around the place like you owned it. Looked down his nose at you whenever you found yourself in trouble, barely able to fathom that someone would actively go looking for it when he spent his life trying to fight it off.
He held his tongue for almost a year until one day - after you’d spend the entire night partying at a local frat house doing “god knows what” - he blew up and you never saw him in the same light since.
You started to play up harder, coming to enjoy the way his jaw clenched and lips would purse as he tried to swallow down his rage. The more you clawed at his limits, the angrier he got which only served to push your little game into dangerous territory.
The day he snapped, pushing you against your bedroom wall with his giant hand tightly constricting your throat as he spat vitriol in your face, you knew you had well and truly awoken a beast. You should’ve been terrified at the unexpected twist in his demeanour and the darkness in his eyes threatening to pull you into the abyss, but the damp pooling between your legs revealed it didn’t scare you at all.
Steve Rogers had a dark side.
And that made him suddenly much more interesting.
-
You soon changed tactic. Not that Steve would meet your gaze whenever you were in the same room together after the incident, but you did what you could to avert his attention to the bath towel that barely hid your modesty or the tiny cut-off denim shorts you happily paraded around the house in.
You noticed the way his eyes would narrow at the sight of your bare legs and the way he’d uncomfortably clear his throat as he battled to read the newspaper over breakfast while you sat next to him chomping down on a banana.
It’s just after midnight on a cold December night when you quietly sneak downstairs for a ‘glass of water’ - at least that’s what you’ll tell Steve if he questions why. You know he’s still awake, the long shadows creeping up the staircase from the harsh glare of the TV set tells you so as you creep down the corridor towards the kitchen.
Your feet almost freeze on the laminate and you curse yourself for not wearing your usual bed socks before reminding yourself that they wouldn’t go with the look you’re trying to flaunt. The skimpy satin two-piece you picked out accentuates your curves and the chill of the room makes your nipples pucker beneath the smooth fabric. You potter around grabbing yourself a glass and quickly run the faucet, filling it with ice cold liquid. You take your time to gulp it down as you lazily lean against the sink, just waiting. You’re almost ready to give up, thinking he’s probably fallen asleep on the sofa again when you hear the kitchen door swing open and Steve appears. Hair disheveled and dressed in a white t-shirt and grey sweats that cling to his lithe hips, he’s never looked better. The t-shirt is far too tight, muscles bulging beneath the material and you have to clench your legs together to stop your pussy from throbbing, but it does very little to stifle the ache.
“What’re you doing up at this hour?”
You pull the glass away and use the same hand to wipe away a trace of water from your lips. “Thirsty,” you reply knowing it’s blindingly obvious.
He nods silently as he beelines for the refrigerator, tugging on the heavy handle to open it. He rummages for a while and finally finds something worthwhile to eat as he takes a step back to close the door, but you notice him stop in his tracks as the glow from the fridge bathes you in light. He must’ve noticed your outfit. Perfect.
“Something wrong?” You ask innocently, taking the time to spin around and place the glass into the sink, suddenly thankful it’s so deep that you have to tiptoe and bend over slightly to stand it in the bottom. You know he’s watching, can feel his stare on your naked skin and no doubt the little flash of ass that inevitably appears as the satin shorts ride up your legs.
He shakes his head far too quickly. “N-no.”
“Well,” you start as you fall back onto your heels, letting the momentum cause your breasts bounce beneath your top. “S’pose I better get back to bed.”
The stairs are in his direction and you know you have to pass him. This couldn’t have worked out better. You take a slow step expecting Steve to move but it’s almost like he’s glued to the floor so you continue to press your luck, waiting for the moment he allows you the room, but it doesn’t come. The space between the island behind him and the refrigerator is surprisingly narrow considering the size of the kitchen, but combined with the sheer heft of Steve’s chest, it dwindles the space even further so you find yourself having to press your back against the cold metal and start to shimmy past him.
He’s staring straight down at you as you do and even in the dark light of the kitchen, the hue of his azure eyes cuts right through you. You take your time, making sure to arch your back slightly to make your breasts, and hardened nipples, more prominent. He catches sight of the swell of your chest and you swear his breath hitches in his throat as you brush past his gently. He dwarfs you so absolutely that it makes your whole body catch alight, knowing with one touch he could probably break you in two and the thought just makes you want him more.
Finally passing him, you make your way to the exit, swinging your hips far too enthusiastically as you feel Steve’s eyes on you. You turn in the doorway and almost straddle the frame, giving Steve one last longing look.
“Hope you have sweet dreams, Daddy,” you taunt quietly.
After that, it was no longer a matter of trying to test Steve’s patience - to see how hard you had to work to break him, but reaching the crux where he would finally give in and show you just how frightfully animalistic he could be.
-
Angling your iPhone a little above your head, you pose suggestively for the fourth time, hand between your legs and let the camera commit the image to its memory. Bringing it closer to inspect the latest shots, you settle on a couple of the best and hit send. It soon buzzes in your hand, notifying you of a text and you grin wide, reading the reply over to yourself, happy to have garnered just the response you were hoping for.
“So hot baby. Wanna slide that hand down your panties next? See how wet you are for me?”
Adjusting your weight, you get into position and slowly lower your fingers past the waistband of your panties and into your hot slick. You watch yourself in the preview of the camera, gently massaging your clit behind the mask of pink lace. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and open your eyes wide, showing off the perfect doe-eyed look that had initially caught the eye of the receiver of your lewd photos.
When your efforts to ensnare Steve failed to yield any results, you resorted back to your old tricks in an attempt to get a reaction. Being ignored didn’t sit right with you and it was starting to piss you off so what better way to get Steve’s attention than start up a ‘friendship’ with the jock with the worst reputation?
Bucky Barnes was a bad apple and part of you craved a taste, but he was simply a means to an end. Steve was your endgame. So what if a few risqué photos of you end up online? He’d have to look at you then even if it was just to scold you. Just the thought of his jaw tightening as he stares down at you disapprovingly makes your belly flutter.
Your cell vibrates again with Bucky’s speedy reply - clearly the sight of you with your fingers in your cunt made him type fast.
“I think you should lose the panties now princess. Would love to see you spread those legs and show me your pretty little pussy.”
Dropping your cell onto the mattress, you push your underwear down your legs and kick them off at your feet. You shuffle backwards and prop yourself up against the headboard, taking your time to make yourself comfortable. With your phone angled perfectly between your legs, you smooth your fingers back through your folds laboriously gathering your cream along your fingertips to show Bucky just how wet you are.
Shame he’s not the reason for it.
Your thumb hovers over the send button just as a heavy knock comes at the door, but they don’t wait to be granted entry. It swings open, Steve’s face draining of colour as he catches sight of the what’s between your legs.
You let out a loud giggle, pressing your knees together in an attempt to conceal your modesty but it does very little in reality. You’re beyond caring because this really couldn’t have worked out any better.
“What—what the hell,” he snaps, swallowing hard as he takes great care tearing his gaze from your cunt.
“What’s the matter?” You push yourself onto all fours and crawl to the corner of the bed closest to him before sitting back on your heels. “You look like you’ve never seen a pussy before,” you say a little too cutesy.
“Don’t talk like that. It’s unladylike.”
“C’mon, we both you’re not a prude Steve. I hear you with my mom. I hear the filth that comes outta your mouth while you’re nailing her,” you scoff as your hand gently slips between your thighs, fingers brushing your clit. Clicking your tongue, your lips curl up in a wide smirk. “Hm, if only people knew what a deviant you really are behind closed doors.”
You watch as his grip tightens on the doorknob and for a second you expect him to retreat back into the hall, but he steps inside the room and shuts the door with a loud click. Steve edges forward, eyes darkening as he stalks towards you.
Reaching you, he thrusts his hand out in front of him, wrapping it tight around your throat and forces you up onto your knees. He bends his head and brings his face closer, his mouth dangerously close to yours as you unconsciously lick yours wet.
“A deviant huh?” He seethes through gritted teeth before chuckling quietly, a hint of malice in his tone. “You have no fuckin’ idea.”
-
Spit and cum dilutes across your chin as Steve slides his cock from your fucked-out throat and you take in a deep breath, revelling in the swell of oxygen filling your lungs.
He grabs you by the bicep, pulling you to your feet unsteadily as you stumble against him and pushes you backwards onto the bed. It creaks under his weight as he crawls up your body, not even bothering to cover your skin with kisses.
His grip pinches at your ankles, forcing your thighs apart and he nestles perfectly between them, his cock brushing against your folds. He doesn’t care where your legs fall as he lets go; you can tell from the look in his eyes that this isn’t about what you crave, but what he craves to take from you.
There’s very little need for prep, your thighs practically soaked from how wet you already are. Steve lines up and shunts forward violently, his cock sliding inside you until you start to feel resistance. His size is nothing like you’ve felt before and you wriggle beneath him trying to make him fit.
“Oh, am I hurting you? My big cock too much for you?” He mocks, tilting his hips and he edges in a little further. He’s stretching you so wide that you can’t help but let out a strained gasp as he finally fills you to the brim. “That’s more like it. Knew you could take me.”
Not giving you a moment to adjust, Steve starts to snap his hips; every part brutal and unyielding. He furiously fucks you into the mattress, laughing through deep breaths as you scream every time the tip of his cock nudges your cervix.
“This is what you wanted isn’t it? Stretched around my thick cock, taking me like the nasty little slut you are,” he patronises. His hand finds its way back around your throat, fingertips fitting perfectly into the indents they’ve already bruised against your skin.
Bending double, he covers your body with his, the cotton of his shirt brushing against the peaks of your hardened nipples as he uses the opportunity to kiss and nibble at your jaw, sneering at what a pathetic mess you are the second you’ve got a cock inside you.
The sudden thud of the front door slamming closed stuns him to a halt, tilting his head towards the door for any further noise.
“Steve honey, are you home? Y/N?” Your mom calls innocently up the stairs. Your eyes widen at the sound of her voice but it does little to deter Steve, fucking back into you slowly at first until he’s furiously slamming his hips against the backs of your thighs. He reaches across the bed for something and the flash of pink balled up in his fist makes you realise exactly what he was searching for.
“Open,” he mouths and you instantly react, lowering your lip until he’s satisfied it’s wide enough and shoves your panties into your mouth. “Yeah, don’t worry about us, we’re just sorting a few things out, we’ll be down soon!” He shouts calmly out to her.
“Have either of you eaten?” She yells out, her shrill voice suddenly sounding like nails on a chalkboard. Steve smiles at her poor choice of words and you remember the way he dined so expertly on your pussy, licking and sucking at your clit like a pro until you came all over his tongue.
“Think she’d be upset if I told her I’m all full up on her precious little girl’s cunt?” He whispers to you before shouting loudly back. “Not yet!”
“Want me to whip something up? What do you fancy?”
“Whatever honey, everything you make is delicious!”
You know he’s not talking about her. Or her food.
Whimpering as you’re orgasm nears, the heat in your belly is almost at boiling point. He clamps his hand over your mouth, forcing your lips closed around the damp material as the other squeezes your nose shut, cutting off your ability to breathe. You thrash beneath him, clawing at his biceps to get him to relent but your struggling just spurs him to fuck you harder.
“Ssh baby girl don’t make a sound,” he breathes. “Don’t want Mommy to catch you getting fucked, do we?” He licks his lips through a heinous smile. “Can’t have her watching her darling daughter get her pussy ruined by her husband’s thick cock?”
The lack of oxygen forces your body into overdrive and as she chirps back “okay, I’ll see what I can rustle up! And please you two, no fighting,” you come hard around Steve as he watches you fall apart beneath him, his lips splitting into a wide smirk.
He chuckles wickedly, just loud enough for you to hear. “Oh, we’re doing much worse.”
-
Lasagne, of course.
You’re normally the first to finish your plate, but tonight you’ve lost your appetite, unable to pinpoint the root cause.
Could it be the way Steve keeps smirking at you from across the table as he asks your mom about her day? Perhaps it’s the fact you’re still recovering from the ache between your legs, sex tingling with the stretch of his cock? Or even more likely, the burn in your throat as you suck in every breath?
Maybe it’s his cum dampening the crotch of your panties, the flimsy pink material still wet from your saliva making you chafe where you sit?
Steve Rogers had a dark side.
But you had no idea you’d only just grazed the surface.