Summary: Steve Rogers is the CEO of his own company, and he’s a man that has never heard the word no from anyone. He goes after what he wants and he gets it, no matter the cost.
You’re doing your best; sharing an apartment with your best friend, struggling through college, trying to make your own imprint on this world.
The two of you cross paths when, as a favor to your friend, you interview him for a magazine. Without meaning to, you catch the attention of the insanely wealthy and intense bachelor.
Word Count: 2,089
Warnings for Series: Angst, fluff, explicit rough & consensual sexual content, dub-con, dom!Steve, sub!reader, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: Yes. There are going to be similarities to 50 Shades of Grey. This isn’t exactly a rewrite, this is my take on how it should have been. This fic wouldn’t be possible without @captain-rogers-beard and @climbthatmooselikeatree, their support and assistance has been invaluable.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
The restaurant Steve insisted on having the celebration dinner at was fancy, fancier than any place you’d ever even dreamed of going to. So much so, that you were about to blow the dust from your credit card and pay too much money for a dress, but Nat put a stop to that.
“Here,” she said, handing you one of her dresses. Natasha’s parents weren’t obscenely rich, but they were well off.
You were shaking your head even as you reached out to touch the fabric. “I… Nat, no. I can’t. It’s… God, it’s fucking gorgeous.”
“And it will look amazing on you,” she insisted, hauling you into her room to help you into it.
You emerged from her room an hour later, your hair swept back into a low knot, natural-looking makeup applied, and a pair of comfortable ballet flats on your feet. Your ankle was still a bit sore, so you had wrapped an ace bandage around it.
Steve was the first one to see you, and if his jaw could have literally dropped to the floor, it would have. His eyes were wide and roaming over you, drinking you in, the gleam in his eyes making your stomach flip lazily. You suddenly felt nervous and flattened your hands against your stomach.
“Do I… is it okay?” you asked, throat suddenly dry, eyes flicking from Steve’s face to Clint’s, from his to Natasha’s.
“I told you it was your color,” Nat insisted playfully.
Clint was nodding in agreement. “Definitely a winner in my book.”
And then there was Steve. He adjusted the tie at his throat before crossing the room. Once in front of you, he took your hands in his and brushed his lips against your knuckles.
With a wicked smirk, he looked at you through his lashes and said loud enough for only you to hear, “Doll, I could eat you alive.”
You sucked in a breath and felt crimson color your cheeks. “I uh… yeah… that sounds -”
Steve winked before standing tall, your jacket suddenly appearing in his hands. “Let’s go. We don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”
“What, you didn’t bring your helicopter?” Clint joked, helping Nat with her jacket.
You looked at Steve over your shoulder. “You have a helicopter?”
“No,” Steve scoffed, his fingers squeezing your shoulders. “I have three.”
The second course had been taken away and you were tapping out. “I can’t eat anymore,” you protested, hand on your stomach, tight smile on your lips.
Natasha mirrored your actions. “Don’t think I could eat another bite.”
“Not even if involved decadent dark chocolate?” Clint plucked the dessert menu from the center of the table and showed Nat what he had in mind.
Steve laughed at the way Natasha perked up at the mere mention of chocolate. “You think you have room for some dessert?” His arm was draped over the back of your chair, fingers flexing against your upper arm.
You hummed as you turned to look at him. “What kind of dessert did you have in mind?”
“Whatever you want, doll,” he purred, his eyebrow jumping up.
Gnawing on your bottom lip, you moved in your seat and pressed your hand to his face, pulling him down for a light kiss. “All in good time, Steve,” you promised against his lips, knowing he would understand what you meant.
“Get a room,” Clint teased, throwing his napkin across the table.
You were laughing as you threw it back. “You first.”
The waitress came back with fresh drinks. “Will anyone be ordering dessert tonight?”
“Why the hell not?” you chuckled, pointing out a difficult-to-pronounce Kouign-amann. Natasha ordered the decadent chocolate dessert that Clint had pointed out.
When the waitress departed, you grabbed Steve’s hand. “Thank you, for all of this.”
Steve raised your hand and pressed his lips to your knuckles. “You deserve it, Y/N, and so much more.” His tone was low and seductive, making you tremble under the weight of it.
You were about to say something when Nat got your attention. “Hey, come with me for a minute.”
“Is everything okay?” You asked, brows furrowed at the way she was looking at you.
She didn’t say anything, just stood and straightened the front of her dress. Smiling tightly at Steve, you excused yourself and followed her across the restaurant. She didn’t stop until the two of you were in the powder room.
“What’s going on, Nat?” you breathed, your stomach rolling.
Nat pulled her phone from her purse and showed it to you. “Your mom, she’s blowing up my phone.”
You took it from her with shaking hands and scrolled through the text messages, each one more annoying than the previous. “God, she doesn’t let up, does she?”
“Call her back,” she instructed gently. “I’ll be here.”
Nat knew exactly how manipulative your mother was, and she wasn’t afraid to tell the matriarch how she felt. Needless to say, your mother didn’t appreciate the fact that the two of you were best friends, and that you had chosen to stay there, living in Brooklyn, instead of close to her.
Blowing out a breath, you pressed the call button and put the phone to your ear. It rang a handful of times before her shrill voice made you wince.
“It’s about goddamn time you pick up a phone.”
“Hi, mom,” you greeted. “Is everything alright?”
She laughed coldly before answering. “You tell me.”
“I don’t know. I’m not the one texting my best friend relentlessly.”
There was that laugh again, the one that made you cringe. “If you would answer yours, I wouldn’t have to text… that girl.”
You rolled your eyes painfully hard. “Her name is Natasha, mom, and she’s my friend. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t -”
“Oh, you would appreciate it, huh?” You could hear as she poured herself a drink. “How about what I would appreciate? I’m your mother, for Christ Sake. I carried you in my body for nine months.”
“Mom, what do you want?” You snapped, desperate to get the call over with so you could go back to Steve.
She scoffed at your tone. “Phil called, said you’re graduating with honors.” Ah, there it was. The thick tone of jealousy she always had when talking about your stepdad.
“I am,” you concurred.
“And you couldn’t call me?!” she shrieked. Natasha spun around from the mirror where she was touching up her lipstick.
You swallowed at the knot in your throat. “It’s been a busy day,” was all you said.
“I’m your mother,” she cried out, louder than before.
“And I am a grown adult,” you ground out, tears pricking your eyes. “I do not need to call you every time something happens.”
“Y/N, this isn’t something minor like when you got the lead in the sixth-grade play,” she patronized.
You sniffled and rolled your eyes again. “Which you didn’t come to.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “It was ‘Our Town.’ It’s been done thousands of times before.”
“You never showed up for anything, mom,” you continued, tears breaking past the weak defense of your eyelashes. “You’re not even coming to my graduation.”
She was silent for a beat. “We’ve already discussed the reason why.”
“And it’s bullshit! Everything I’ve ever accomplished or been excited about, you’ve always had a reason not to show up, and I’m sick of it,” you ranted, not caring about the way several women looked at you as they passed through.
“You do not get to talk to me like that,” she gasped. “I did the best I could. There’s a reason I left Phil.”
You blew out a stuttering breath when Natasha grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. “You left because being married to a man that wouldn’t let you take advantage of him wasn’t what you wanted. You left because you didn’t have the perfect daughter you’d always wanted.”
“I loved Phil. He just -”
“What, mom?” you cried. “He wouldn’t stand idly by while you berated me for choosing to play baseball over getting my hair curled and colored? You don’t know the meaning of the word love.”
“Now, just wait a minute,” she screeched. You could picture the way her eyes always bugged out, the veins on her temples pulsed, and how she would ball her hands into fists in an attempt to keep from slapping you across the face.
You shook your head and honest-to-God stomped your foot. “No, mom. I’m done waiting.”
Someone knocked on the door and poked their head in. It was Steve, and he was wearing a worried look. “You okay, doll?”
You spun around to face him and embarrassment made your skin flush. “I’m fine,” you lied expertly.
“Who’s that?” she once again demanded, her voice so shrill you had to pull the phone away from your ear. “You got a boyfriend now?”
Not caring that the powder room was connected to the women’s bathroom, Steve came in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“Yeah, mom,” you rasped.
Steve gave you a small smile. “Hang up the phone,” he instructed gently, his hand held out to take it from you.
“Jesus, Y/N. You don’t tell me anything anymore. What is wrong with you?”
At that, your eyes went wide and anger surged through you. “There is nothing wrong with me. I don’t tell you anything anymore because you don’t care about anyone other than yourself. You’re as self-absorbed as they come, and I don’t want that in my life. I don’t… I don’t deserve it.”
You pulled the phone away from your ear and disconnected the call right as she screeched your name. Your hand was shaking as you handed the phone to Steve, who then handed it to Nat.
“I… I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t… didn’t know she… I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”
Steve pulled you into his chest, crushing you to him with his arms. He pressed kisses to the top of your head when you latched your arms around him, your nails digging into his jacket. “You didn’t ruin anything, doll. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
The dress Natasha had loaned you was hanging back in her closet soon after Steve escorted you home. While you pulled on a shirt that fell to your knees, washed your face, and let your hair down, Steve waited in the living room, on the large couch, shoes kicked off, tie loosened, jacket laid over the back of a chair.
You came out sat next to him, on the edge, head hung, hands wringing together. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
“No, doll,” he argued, his hand moving up and down your back, the heat of it seeping into your skin. “You have no reason to apologize.”
“I ruined the night,” you hiccuped, tears once again streaking down your face.
With his large hand on your hip, he tugged you into his side, tipped your head back with his other hand, and brushed a kiss to your lips. “You did no such thing, Y/N.”
“But I did,” you continued weakly. “If I hadn’t… she just… I don’t -” you didn’t finish because Steve was kissing you, just a firm press of his lips on yours, a moan in the back of his throat. When he pulled back, you chased his lips, your hand on his chest, your heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings.
“No more apologies about it, okay?” Steve said, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.
You wanted to agree with him, to tell him that you’d stop, but that wasn’t the kind of person you were. You were raised to believe that everything was your fault, even if it was something as silly as someone stubbing their toe or when they get pulled over for drifting over the white line on the way home from playing bingo.
Steve tipped his head. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
You chuckled ruefully and shook your head. “That’s a story for another night.”
“Promise you’ll tell me?” he asked, his hand once again working up and down your back.
With a small smile, you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, relishing in the way he leaned into you, in the way his beard bit into your skin, and the way his eyes fluttered closed, his long lashes fanning against his skin.
“Sure,” was your answer. You curled into him, your head on his chest, your hand on his stomach, and that was how you fell asleep.
EIGHT
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