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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

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Come and Go

Part iii of the Without You series: Colson struggles to explain himself, only pushing Y/N further away.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angst, Colson being really bad at communicating

Word Count: 1500

| i | ii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

“Colson?”

You were shocked at first, then upset, and then you were angry. “You can’t just fucking break into my house.” You yelled at him, placing your laptop on the coffee table.

He held his hands up in surrender, “I knew you wouldn’t let me in if I knocked and I have a key so technically it’s not really breaking in.”

“Get out!” You yelled, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you stand up.

“Okay, look. I know you’re upset-“

“Upset? Colson do you remember what you did? What you said to me? And now you show up at my goddamn house what, 2 weeks later? I’m not upset you fucking moron, I’m fucking pissed off right now.”

“I know I fucked up, okay? I’ve gotten enough of a lecture from the guys.” He said, looking more annoyed than apologetic.

You rolled your eyes, sitting back down. “Yeah you seem like you really feel bad Cols.” You said sarcastically.

“What do you mean? I am sorry, Y/N. Sorry I’m not down on one knee or some shit. What did you expect, really?”

You fought hard to keep tears from reaching your eyes. “I didn’t expect anything, honestly. But if you’re gonna come here and waste my time you could at least act sincere about it. You’re acting like this is a joke or some shit. I mean why are you really here?”

Colson walked backwards towards the door, “honestly I’m just here to get the boys off my back. Now I can tell them I tried to apologize and you turned me down and we don’t ever have to talk again, sound good?”

You thought that the next time you saw him you would be begging him to take you back, but now your blood was boiling. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Remember, you mean nothing to me. I don’t give a shit if you actually forgive me or not. In fact I’d rather you not, because then you’ll stay as far away from me as fuckin possible.” His voice was harsh, like he was cutting you with a poisoned blade.

You could only sit and let his words hit you, willing yourself not to break down until he left. You spoke quietly, because that was all you could bare to do. “Get out.”

And he did.

Another week passed, and you seemed to have regressed back into the broken girl. You couldn’t seem to get his words out of your head.

And you felt stupid because you had other friends. You had great friends. But almost all of them were friends you made through Colson and you didn’t want to make them choose. So you chose for them.

Pete still texted you daily, but you’d resorted to giving him short answers or just not answering all together. You hadn’t told him about Colson coming over or what he said, he was already caught in the middle enough as it was.

The one person you told was Rook, only because he told you if you didn’t tell him about it then he would show up at your house and not leave until you told him. And you’d rather just type it all out than have to speak to another person. You just felt so emotionally drained, having an actual conversation with someone just seemed like too much effort.

But, despite telling you he would not come to your house because you told him, he ended up on your doorstep with a very angry Colson.

He rang the doorbell, scaring you slightly. Why was someone at your door at 11 pm?

Against your better judgement, you answered, finding the two boys on your porch.

You raised your eyebrow at Rook, waiting for him to explain himself. “Can we come in?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“You can come in. Not him.” You motioned to Colson without looking at him. You had yet to meet his eyes, but his were shooting holes through you.

“Y/N. We’re coming in. I’m tired of this shit. We’re not leaving until you two figure this out.” Rook was very obviously annoyed, and despite your body in the doorway, he moved into your house. Colson stayed at the door, still looking at you.

You turned away from him, letting him inside, “whatever.” You mumbled. Rook had made himself comfortable in your kitchen, grabbing a beer from your fridge and chips from your cupboard.

You walked into the living room, taking a seat on one of your couches awkwardly. Why the hell were you feeling awkward in your own house?

Colson sat on the other couch, his eyes still following you as you looked everywhere except him. Rook called from the other room, “I don’t hear you guys figuring your shit out!”

“Goddamn man what the fuck do you want us to say? This is fucking bullshit.” Colson called back, standing up from the couch and turning to the door.

Rook blocked his path, venom in his voice. “Sit down. You’re not fucking leaving.” His voice got quieter and you almost missed his next words. “Fucking fix this.”

Colson let out a sigh, “fine, but can you at least give us some space man?”

Rook studied Colson for a moment. “Fine. But if you hurt her again I’ll kill you, bro.” He opened the front door, giving you a small smile and a wink before closing it behind him.

Colson turned back towards you, studying you, trying to figure out where he stood with you. You were looking down at your hands, picking your nails to avoid looking at Colson’s blue eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything, Colson. I’ll just tell Rook you tried to apologize for real this time and I shut you down. I just want all this shit to be done with. I’m over it.”

You didn’t know it, but Colson’s heart sank further into his stomach. You sounded so defeated, so broken. It was exactly what he intended to do, and he knew it would hurt him too, but he wasn’t sure he could see you like this anymore.

He slowly made his way back towards you, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch you sat on. “I think it’s time I was honest with you,” he paused, “and with myself.”

“No offense Colson but I think I’ve had enough honesty from you to last a lifetime.” You muttered, still looking at your lap.

“Can you just hear me out? Please?” You didn’t answer, so he took his cue to continue. ��I’m scared, Y/N. I’m fucking terrified.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “If you’re that scared of living without Megan then just go beg for her back.”

He took a deep breath, “That’s not what I’m scared of.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your head towards him but still avoiding his eyes.

“I’m scared of.” He paused, trying to find the words, “I’m scared of falling in love.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Colson. That’s a shitty fucking-“

“Just let me finish, please.”

“Whatever.” You mumbled, realizing this conversation wasn’t going to actually fix anything.

Colson took another deep breath. “I’m scared of falling in love because every time I do, the person I love gets hurt. I’m not good for anyone. I- I fuck people up.”

You were still pretty confused but you put some dots together. “So, what, you were upset that you hurt Megan and you blamed it on me? Right. Cool. Great talk.” You rolled your eyes, waiting for him to get up and leave.

“Can you fucking listen to me, please?” He turned towards you. “I wasn’t in love with Megan, that was the whole problem.”

You finally found the courage to look at him. His blue eyes pierced yours as you studied his face. The sunken bags under his eyes, the unshaven stubble adorning his jaw, the unkempt hair.

“I’m in love with you. And I think I always have been.”

His words came out as a whisper. You felt tears surface and it took everything inside of you not to let them fall.

“You’re an asshole.” You stood up, walking towards the bedroom.

He followed you, “what do you mean?”

You turned back to face him, standing in your doorframe. “Yeah, Colson, this is all really funny to you, I’m sure. Is this your way of humiliating me even more? You make me feel like shit and then you try to convince me you love me? And then I fall for it and you-“

You were cut off as Colson’s lips met yours, his hands on either side of your face. At first you reacted, kissing him back before coming to your senses. You pushed him off of you and he stumbled back.

The tears in your eyes began to fall and you felt utterly ridiculous. “Fuck you. Get out of my house. Don’t ever fucking talk to me again.” You said, closing your bedroom door in his face.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker angst #rook cappelletty

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howdoyousleep3 · 5 years ago

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“put you on something new”-- part 5/5

The frat!Steve x jock!Bucky College AU by @the1918 and @howdoyousleep3

Read Part 4

warning: internalized homophobia (Steve honey, bisexuality is a thing)

we found it fitting that we write the last part together and we hope you enjoy these 6900 words (can’t make that shit up) of smutty bro smut. 😘

Experiment.

That’s what Bucky had called this. An experiment.

People experiment all the time in college, right? The first time Steve’s frat had made Trash Can Punch, it had been an experiment (one that they didn’t repeat). The first time that he’d made out with a girl with a tongue piercing, it had been— shit, shit-fuck, now he’s imagining Lucky Bucky Barnes with a tongue piercing and—

If Steve does this, it will just be an experiment. It won’t mean that he’s gay. Bucky isn’t gay, after all; he’d just said so, just told Steve very convincingly that he likes to fuck girls and eat them out. And Steve likes girls, is actually quite talented at eating pussy he thinks, so if Bucky isn’t gay and Steve isn’t gay, then…

Then how would Steve putting Bucky’s dick in his mouth be gay?

“Rogers,” Bucky says, breaking Steve’s thoughts, “look at me.”

Steve tries to shake the low-key existential crisis from his brain and looks up at Bucky’s face— which is how he realizes that he hadn’t been looking at Bucky’s face before but had instead been looking at Bucky’s crotch, his open belt, his newly-undone button and zipper and what looks like tight black briefs.

“‘Sup?” Steve says, extremely way too casually, looking at Bucky’s stubbled face and his dark eyes like the other dude isn’t two seconds from whipping his dick out on Steve’s bed.

Bucky looks right at him and asks, “This okay?” and Steve can hear the unspoken implication that if Steve says “no”, Bucky will zip up and buckle up and head out, no harsh feelings.

Steve doesn’t want to say “no”, so he says what he wants to say instead which is—

“Yeah. Yeah, bro. ‘S’all good.”

Bucky’s lips quirk into an amused smile and his pause lasts only a few beats more before he’s hooking his thumbs into his own waistband, holding his hips off the mattress a bit so he can start to work his jeans and briefs down his thighs.

“All good, huh?” he says. “Well, I sure hope so… bro.” And Steve knows that Bucky is teasing him with the last word and why is that so hot? But he doesn’t have any time to think about it because. Because.

Because Bucky’s dick is— shit, it’s nice. It’s thick and veiny and uncut, which Steve thinks is pretty rad. It’s a little bit bigger than Steve’s own cock. In the back of his mind Steve is trying to think if he’s always had opinions about what constitutes a nice dick or if this is new, considering if there might have been some sort of subtle clue hidden in all those times he was watching totally-regular-straight porn and wondering if anyone ever made videos from the chick’s point-of-view.

Bucky Barnes has his really very nice dick out in Steve’s bedroom. He’s on Steve’s bed. It’s exhilarating and new and foreigh but Steve’s mind immediately tries to visit something more familiar, tries to think about what it is he usually does any other time a human being whips their genitals out while sitting on his mattress. He tries to think of what he would do if this were a girl, and if it were a girl Steve would be trying to get her all worked up and feeling a certain kind of way, he’d be putting on smooth music he’d— shit, should he put on some music? Does Bucky like Jack Johnson? Maybe he’s more of a Dave Matthews dude.

“Stop thinkin’, Stevie. C’mere.”

So Steve decides against music. Putting on a suitable playlist would require getting up and finding his phone instead of doing what Bucky is gesturing for him to do, what Steve wants to do, which is to crawl in closer so that’s what is doing and— does Bucky want him to sit in his lap? He’s on his knees and kneeling between Bucky’s thighs right now and trying to figure where his body is supposed to go when Bucky grabs the back of his neck and pulls Steve down for what is easily the most mind-blowing kiss Steve has ever received in his life.

Steve had not considered that giving another dude a suckjob might also include making out with said dude but now that he’s doing it, it really does make a lot of sense. Bucky sucks Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth in a filthy wet way that makes Steve’s groan and Bucky wastes no time using the opportunity to lick into Steve’s mouth. Steve thinks Bucky is almost showing him exactly how he likes to have his dick blown. Steve tries hard to take mental notes. It’s nothing like the shotgun-kiss from earlier because now there’s no much more intent behind it, feels like there is a goal at hand, like Bucky is trying to loosen Steve’s nerves with his tongue and his lips while he gets Steve’s mouth ready to suck his cock.

“Nurgh,” Steve vocalizes, upon Bucky pulling away and leaving Steve’s lungs bereft of oxygen.

Now that Bucky isn’t kissing him anymore Steve realizes that he’s still kneeling awkwardly on the mattress between Bucky’s legs, which means that when he’s looking at Bucky he’s looking down and from this angle Steve can see the dark brown length of his eyelashes, the spit-slick shine of his red lower lip, and below all of that— the proud jut of Bucky’s hard cock where it’s pointed towards his navel, the heavy look of his balls where the waistband of his briefs is tucked under them.

It’s only because Steve is staring downward that he notices Bucky reach a hand out, and before he can consider where that hand is headed it’s cupping the outline of Steve’s very hard cock, grabbing him through his shorts and boxers and drawing a noise from Steve that is so feminine and small it’s embarrassing.

“You ever had another guy’s dick in your hand, Stevie?”

But Steve can’t focus on any embarrassing noises he’s making, not when Bucky is taking Steve’s wrist in a circle of his own fingers and guiding his hand to Bucky’s cock. Steve’s arm goes without protest as he’s shakes his head in response to the question— nope, never jerked another bro off before— and he’s surprised to find how natural it feels to close his hand around the shaft and find the both new and familiar sensation of holding a dick in his hand.

“Oh,” is all Steve says.

Bucky’s cock is warm in his hand and very, very hard. Something inside Steve is immediately flattered by the idea that Bucky is that hard for him and he’s surprising himself with the way he’s preening inwardly at the thought, feeling some bizarre kind of confidence all of a sudden.

Bucky’s hand covers Steve’s own, still immobile where it’s gripping the other dude’s dick. When Bucky closes his fist around it Steve can’t help but admire the way Bucky’s big athlete palms look when overlapping Steve’s. His brain is thinking about how Bucky’s hands must look when they’re covering the broad and textured expanse of a football, but Steve’s not thinking about it for too long because Bucky is sliding their joined hands downward in a way that tugs back Bucky’s foreskin and reveal the wet, purpling tip and—

Huh, Steve thinks, as his belly makes contact with the mattress between Bucky’s thighs. When had Steve’s body decided that his face should be three inches from Bucky’s dick?

“Huh,” Bucky—now above him—echoes. “Look at that. Ain’t nearly as shy as I took you for. Damn, Rogers…”

And then Bucky is using their combined hands to guide his cock outward while he uses his other hand to push down on the back of Steve’s head, and Steve’s mouth opens wide on instinct.

“...I think you are gonna love this.”

Dicks taste salty. It’s the taste of pre-come and Steve knows that part already, because like any other regular dude he’s licked his own slickness from his fingers before. So the taste may not come as a surprise to him but the way his lips want so badly to wrap around the head of Bucky’s cock is, takes Steve a little off-guard, but the hand on the back of his skull feels good and grounding so none of that really bothers him right now.

“Open up— yeah, there ya go. Shit, Steve, feel damn good already.”

Steve…Steve isn’t sure that he’s ever been, like— praised before, at least not for sex stuff. It’s a new experience, and one that makes his own hard dick twitch in his pants and his hips press down into the mattress in search of relief, but he tries to keep his focus on his mouth as he lets it sink down over the velvet-hot shaft between his lips. He does it for what feels like a mile but is probably less than two inches before, oh, the hand on the back of his head is in his hair now and it’s telling him what to do, pulling him back and then pushing him back down until he’s sinking just a little bit further.

“Gotta tuck those teeth away, Rogers. More lip, more—ohh there ya go, yeah, more’a that, shit.”

Steve likes to think he does well with constructive criticism and he suddenly feels a little bit perfect when he listens to Bucky and then adjusts, covers his teeth with his lips the way he’s seen girls do when they blow him. He’s starting to really get why Bucky said he’s got dick-sucking-lips when the pressure on the back of his head increases and he rises to the challenge, trying to take in more but finding too much friction to sink down comfortably any further.

“Here, pull— off, yeah, hold up,” and then Steve hears the absolutely obscene sound of Bucky spitting into his own hand, sees Bucky bring it back down to slather an impressive amount of saliva around the base and give himself a few firm pumps. “There we go, c’mon, back on it. Know you like it.”

Steve’s hips fuck against the mattress a little bit when he hears Bucky talk to him like that, and he listens when the other man urges his to hold the base, to “jerk off what your mouth can’t suck”. He’s thinks he’s almost found a groove when Bucky starts to lay on the praise again, and he realizes that he’s moaning around the dick in his mouth, registers that the vibration of it might actually feel really good for Bucky and Steve’s skin breaks out in goosebumps and the noises of approval his football idol is making.

“There ya go, yeah—gettin’ better with the teeth stuff already, huh?”

And that— shit, Steve is here and he finds that he is fucking living for that shit, doesn’t even care what that means about him because he’s too focused on doubling down his efforts, hand suddenly flying over the base of Bucky’s cock while his mouth tries to impale his skull on it, slurping noises filling the room and—

“Woah, hey! Careful Rogers. Don’t gotta choke yourself on my dick just yet, here. Hang out. Take a breather.”

Steve is furiously disappointed in himself and his gag reflex, embarrassed by the way Bucky had to pull his head back to keep him from aspirating on his own spit when he had just been doing so good. He takes a few steadying breaths, as instructed, looking down at the cock in his hand and glaring at it like it’s an ally that’s suddenly betrayed him. But, no—he reminds himself—this disaster was his own damn fault, and then Steve feels bad. He gives the head of the dick an apologetic lick. It might be a suckle.

The hand in Steve’s hair has softened its grip but it still has his head suspended just a few inches above Bucky’s slobbery erection. The other man pries Steve’s fingers off and replaces the hand with his own, nudges Steve’s head down, says, “gonna jerk myself while you suck on my balls, Rogers, c’mon.”

Steve has apparently reached the point in the night where he no longer has to hear Bucky say everything twice. He can’t remember the last time a girl really played with his nuts but he feels like it’s probably intuitive, knows what he likes himself, feels good about his decision to lave his tongue over Bucky’s balls to get them wet with spit before trying to suck one into his mouth, carefully, because “teeth— uh huh, you know the drill.”

He finds that he takes to liking a little bit of ball worship just as much as he likes having Bucky’s dick on his tongue, likes the way Bucky’s hand urges him to press his face in to fully enjoy the experience. Steve is really feeling himself when Bucky starts to pile on the praise again in that way that gets his dick rutting against mattress again, humping his own bed like a dog with a nice-looking leg

“There ya go, shit. Not gonna say you’re a natural but—fuck yeah— you sure got spirit, dontcha? God damn.”

Steve kind of really likes the lewd sound of Bucky’s hand squelching with the spit covering his own cock. He lets the wet ball fall out of his mouth, plucks a stray hair from his tongue, leans back to admire the sight. Bucky apparently takes his keen interest for what it is because then he’s nudging his dick back towards Steve’s lips with a little bit of cooing, with a, “Mhmm, there it is, c’mon and take it back, fuck.”

Time has definitely started to melt a little, so Steve doesn’t know how long he spends with his mouth once again wrapped around Bucky’s cock— sliding in and out, slipping up and down in a way that he’s actually starting to get pretty great at— when suddenly there are fingertips pressing against the stretched outside of Steve’s lips. Steve has no idea why they’re there but he feels like he should open his mouth a little wider so he does, lets Bucky push those two fingers into Steve’s mouth alongside his cock. Bucky is a good dude about it, tells Steve how good he is for it, how he’s “takin’ it so nice,” waits until they’re drenched with Steve’s spit before sliding them back out.

“C’mere, get—pop your ass up. Like that. Gonna help you out now, okay?”

And Steve is just real fucking good at taking direction by this point, practically a damn solider, so he does as he’s told and gets his knees under himself a little to help lift his ass in the air. Bucky growls, uses the hand that’s still on the back of Steve’s head to press him down some, fucks up into his mouth once like he just can’t help it, and Steve—

—Steve is so good he doesn’t even fucking gag.

“Fuck,” Bucky swears, and Steve can hear the surprised laughter in his voice. “Look at you, you goddamn champ. Shit, fucking proud ‘a you Rogers, here, ass— yeah, c’mon, try’na show you somethin’.”

Bucky has yet to lead Steve astray tonight, has yet to introduce him to anything that Steve did not end up finding really quite agreeable, so he’s not even nervous when Bucky stuffs his hand down the back of Steve’s shorts, over his boxers. He honestly doesn't think twice about any of it until two of Bucky’s fingers are pressing down against Steve’s asshole. The cotton that separates it is apparently thin enough that Steve can immediately feel the tell-tale wet, that tiny bit of slickness that says these two fingers are the ones that were only just in Steve’s mouth.

“God, eager thing like you would just love havin’ couple’a fingers inside’a you. Gettin’ something in your ass always makes suckin’ cock better,” and Steve must have a really done a bang-up job when he was getting those fingers wet because the fabric of his boxers is practically soaked, lets him feel the pads of Bucky’s fingertips against that tense pucker— definitely feels it when Bucky lifts them just a inch and then smacks the tips back down against his hole. “Next time, Rogers.”

Steve— Steve has never even considered that someone playing with his asshole could actually be pleasurable. It makes sense, given that some chicks and gay dudes like to get it up the ass, and Steve probably understood all of that in theory, but in no universe or alternate dimension did Steve ever think that Bucky Barnes rubbing his wet boxers into his asshole while Steve sucked his cock would make him moan like a whore and rut his dick down into the sheets so hard and so fast that it gets the whole bed frame moving.

“Fuckin’ knew it, knew this would get’chu,” Bucky teases, works his fingers in circles twice as fast while he holds Steve’s head down onto his cock and tells him to, “fuck the bed, yeah, wish you were kneelin’ and I could reach down, pump a little pussy toy on your dick.”

It’s that last bit that makes Steve feel like he’s coming already, makes him howl out, but then Bucky pulls his fingers tight in Steve’s hair on just the wrong side of painful and it makes Steve groan and sputter, makes his orgasm back right the fuck up.

He’s irritated about not getting to come but not as much as he’s concerned when Bucky is pulling him off of his cock completely. Steve’s immediate thought is that he’s fucked up. He goes as he’s made to but gives Bucky a panicked look, body trembling a little as he feels the fingers withdraw from his shorts. He makes eye contact with Bucky for the first time since he started blowing him in this dark room and drools out, worried, “‘S not good?”

Before he has even the chance to wipe the back of his hand over his slick mouth Bucky is tugging on said hand, pulling him forward, but forward means—

“C’mere, big guy up and—there ya go, sit right up here, get nice and close.”

That means he has no choice but to slip and bump knees and somehow land in Bucky’s lap, his own thighs looking lithe and slim sitting atop Bucky’s powerhouse ones. The way Bucky just…just moved him where he wanted, just pulled Steve and manhandled him like a chick makes his next exhale come out a little whiny. It clicks in his brain a bit, why ladies want him to be a little rough sometimes with a little slapping or choking, because his gut is molten hot with just one pull and squeeze.

Would he let Bucky choke him, slap him in the face?

He lets out another whine at the thought, akin to a whimper, and Bucky’s hands squeeze tight at his waist, hands slipping under his shirt, before they’re sliding up to cup his jaw.

“Oh baby, s’good so good,” Bucky purrs into his mouth, hips pumping up in slow pulses, physically teasing Steve into joining him. He feels relief, expresses this relief, his hands coming up to grapple at the collar of Bucky’s shirt as the athlete dips his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve loves kissing, has always enjoyed handsy makeout sessions as foreplay, enjoys the way he and another person can work together and give and take. He loves how intimate it can be and how wet it can be, the way someone else’s tongue feels against his own, in his mouth, on his lips.

Steve thinks Bucky might have the nicest mouth he’s ever gotten his own on. He’s been with pushy girls, girls who command some of their give and take, but Bucky has a fat bottom lip and knows how to suck on Steve’s tongue and Steve just wants to follow.

“Y’so good, Stevie, gotta sweet mouth. Can’t wait to keep havin’ you use it on me, gonna get real good at suckin’ cock aren’t ya?”

He’s—oh he’s—they’re gonna do this again? Steve’s head spins at that thought for so many reasons, all surrounding what this means if he goes to suck dick again or if Bucky is going to do that thing with his fingers on his asshole or—

“Can hear you thinkin’. Don’t like it right now, shouldn’t be thinkin’. Should be squirmin’ and moanin’ and touching,” Bucky mumbles into his mouth, Steve digs Bucky’s mouth, and then Bucky’s hands are leaving his face and running down to his waist, his ass. They feel, oh they feel good, pleasurable. It leaves Steve gasping, rolling his hips but being cognizant of Bucky’s dick out and against his shirt, the sin of some exposed stomach. Bucky’s hands are big, so capable, good for grabbing ass and for catching game-winning interceptions.

Steve is equally impressed with both.

“Shit, Rogers you got yourself quite the peach here, don’t ya? You’ve probably never let anyone put their dick in it n’that’s a worse shame than this mouth not gettin’ one...”

Maybe Steve should be freaking out about the sudden thought of a dick being inside his ass but he’s distracted because Steve has never had anyone compliment his ass in such a way and he can’t help but feel a little…sweet? Is that what this is? Like he feels when he blushes when he gets a round of high fives from the boys for a sick touchdown pass in flag football or that one time he went an entire round of Team Death Match on Call of Duty without dying and he and his buddies creamed the competition. He’s proud of his ass in the same way in this scenario but this kind of compliment has him a little more breathless, makes him move forward to press their mouths sloppily together.

“And this waist? Shit, Rogers,” Bucky groans, his hands moving up to knead and squeeze tight at Steve’s sides, “Like a little lady, ain’t ya?”

Steve shouts. It’s a little noise, aggravatingly a feminine one to tie right into Bucky’s accusation, but the way Bucky’s hands feel almost encircling his entire waist and hearing those words in that gruff voice? Steve feels like he has no choice but to make such a noise. It makes him want Bucky’s dick back in his mouth, makes him want to mouth and slurp at his balls some, makes him want to hear more sweet words even though he literally just got some.

What the fuck is going on?

Steve doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to get wrapped up in his head like he so easily can sometimes, especially in Calc class. But he isn’t sitting in Calc right now. He’s sitting in the lap of Lucky Bucky, wiggling, whimpering like a bitch in heat as he practically begs for kisses on the other man’s lips.

“Take your dick out, Stevie, come on.”

The command is pressed into his lips, against his chin, Bucky giving him kisses and bites—oh god, nibbles—on his jawline as his hands still dig into his sides, his waist. Steve finds himself tilting his head to the left, gives Bucky more room to work with because shit that’s nice, that’s nice. How has he never done this? Has he done this to a girl? Why hasn’t a girl done this to him?

“Dick, Rogers let’s go. Wanna show you somethin’ else.”

Ignoring the way the back of his neck burns at the command coupled with another tight nip at his ear, his hands leave Bucky’s neck and go for the button and fly of his own shorts. He only has the few seconds he fumbles with his clothing, his waistbands, to focus on the fact that Bucky is about to see his dick, is probably going to touch his dick. He doesn’t know how to feel about his urge to impress the other man, the burn of hoping Bucky likes what he sees.

He’s never cared about whether or not a girl liked his dick; he has always known it’s a crowd pleaser. He’s never felt more pressure to show up than with this crowd of one though.

The cool air hits his dick for maybe three seconds before it’s engulfed in heat once more and—

Fuck, Bucky is touching his dick. Bucky has his hand on his dick.

“Look at that, Rogers. This dick is as pretty as you are shit, baby.” There’s that word again—baby. He likes that word. He likes the way it sounds in his ears, the way it bounces around his brain like a Beer Pong ball, the way Bucky’s lips look when they purr it out. He likes Bucky calling him something he is so used to referring to women as.

Bucky’s fingers are different from anything he’s ever felt. They aren’t a girl’s, tentative and slim, and they aren’t quite his own, familiar and albeit a little rough. They are somewhere in between the two, thick and capable yet gentle and firm and it knocks the fucking wind out of Steve’s lungs when Bucky makes a fist and tugs.

“Oh, oh f-fuck,” Steve stutters out, all hot air as he inadvertently presses his forehead to Bucky’s in a jerky movement as he looks down. He is in no way prepared for the way his dick looks like in a dude’s hand, in Bucky’s hand, is also not prepared for the way his everything reacts.

This shit is dope and Steve thinks that’s an understatement.

Steve doesn’t know if he’s seen anything hotter than this. Bucky’s hands are big but Steve doesn’t quite realize how big they are until he’s got Steve’s dick in his fist. Bucky takes a few strokes, some time, to get acquainted with his cock, much to Steve’s unfamiliar delight, and makes his deepest noise yet when they both watch a drop or seven of his own precome leak from the tip.

He thinks it’s mortifying, feels a bit like an easy slut, but Bucky marvels, “Ain’t that a sight, goddamn,” and tugs a bit more on his cock. Steve doesn’t say anything in response, almost entirely useless at this point, but he watches as Bucky touches his dick, strokes him off, and it makes his hips twitch, makes him sound like he can’t keep his head above water.

His knees dig hard into the mattress, tries his hardest to not sound like he needs to be resuscitated, but he watches as Bucky opens his palm and gruffs out, “Spit.”

Spit? Like…spit? Into what? Bucky’s hand? Why would—

“Stick with me, Stevie come on now—Spit. Doesn’t need to be anything aggressive like you see in awful porn; just give me something to work with here.”

Bucky is still as calm as he has been throughout this entire ordeal, this night that feels simultaneously forever but not long enough, but there is an edge to his voice now, a bite to his actions. He’s being patient with Steve but it seems his own dick is at the forefront of his mind now that he’s seen Steve’s, now that he’s sucked Bucky’s cock, now that he’s here in his lap.

Steve’s brain short-circuits the connection that in situations such as this, people tend to get off, tend to make each other come, and that’s what’s happening here, that’s what’s going to happen. Bucky and Steve are going to—

He manages to push a glob of spit from his mouth and into Bucky’s hand, watches it fall and barely hit the football player's palm. Both he and Bucky make a noise, his a whimper as he tries to pump his hips, his dick, and Bucky’s is another one of those damned groans. Steve’s mind runs, spins, tilts and all he can manage to say as Bucky grabs both of their dicks in one hand is—

“You’re gonna make me come.”

Bucky stills.

“You’re gonna—? I’m not—”

“No! No, no you’re—you’re gonna make us come, you’re gonna—”

Bucky’s hand moves a few seconds later, a bark of laughter bitten into his chin in realization of what Steve had meant and not what he had said.

“Yeah, Rogers��I’m gonna make us come.”

Fuck. Fuck, okay yeah. His dick is touching Bucky’s, is encased in a meaty palm and is just fucking pressed up right there against Bucky’s. It’s hot and slick and wet and fuck it’s so good, it’s so fucking good, Steve can’t keep his wits about him. Bucky’s grip is tight, his own spit coating their dicks as if they even needed it, as if Steve wasn’t leaking like a faucet already.

“Gotta breathe, kid. Breathe,” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear, his head basically having fallen onto a broad shoulder, eyes still downcast. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t breathing, didn’t want a single thing to take away from everything he is feeling, would rather die than not experience this in the fullest. He heaves in a few hefty breaths, cups his hands unintentionally around the column of Bucky’s throat.

“Holy shit,” Steve hisses, words going desperate and turning into an almost hysterical groan, one that shakes his chest. Bucky’s fist is slow to move at first, slow sensual pumps, trying to get the hang of jacking off two dicks in one hand, as if Bucky needs practice. His fingers around Bucky’s neck dig into the hair there and fuck, he was right—Bucky’s hair is so fucking soft. It makes Steve wonder what other places on Bucky’s body are soft.

He barely notices Bucky’s other hand, the one not wrapped around both of their dicks, digging into his hip, kneading at his ass. It’s yanking, pulling at Steve’s hip as if Bucky wants him to move some, so he does what feels right and rolls his hips a little. Just like kissing, he feels the two of them work together, give and take to make them both feel so fucking good. This moment is what will pop into Steve’s mind any time he hears the word teamwork.

“Bring that mouth back over here, c’mon,” Bucky breathes into his jaw but Steve wants to keep watching the other dude’s fist fuck over their dicks, fuck Bucky’s cock is touching his own, shit. Steve’s hips are twitching still, little pumps in time with Bucky’s hand, and he tears his head away and turns blindly with a sad little noise.

Jesus Christ, Bucky has such a nice mouth. It makes his balls ache (oh god, are their balls touching too?), makes his gut turn, having Bucky’s hand on his dick and his tongue in his mouth. Steve can barely keep up, Bucky’s experience with this whole dude thing glaringly obvious compared to Steve’s own. He keeps his mouth open, keeps it moving, presses his tongue forward to slide against Bucky’s own in a movement that sends sparks down his spine.

He isn’t sure he’s doing anything right, if Bucky likes kissing him until the brunette is pulling back with something short of a growl.

“Fuck, Rogers bet you eat pussy like a champ with this mouth.You make ‘em scream with that tongue? Huh?”

The last thing Steve needed Bucky to bring up in this moment was pussy. His brain doesn’t know what to think about now, split in two entirely opposite directions. All he wants to focus on and think about is the way Bucky’s fist pumps hard over the two of them together, the way he’s a little uncomfortable with how much he digs the sound of his spit on their cocks. But now this? Pussy? Even Bucky saying the word “pussy” has Steve moaning, has his fingers digging into chestnut hair and tugging.

“Yeah, how could you not love eatin’ pussy? You love it, right?” Steve does.

“Uh-huh,” Steve whines, nods his head against Bucky’s forehead before smearing his lips messily against his stubbly chin, pulling his eyes up to look at Bucky’s own. The fist around them tightens some more, makes Steve whimper through his teeth.

“Fuck, you’d look so sweet with your face between a broad’s legs. I’d love to see that, d’love to watch this mouth work a pussy over,” and then Bucky’s licking into his mouth, tongue slipping across his bottom lip, straight up across both lips and Steve can’t help that he thinks about two things: Bucky showing him how he himself eats a pussy but against his own lips and Bucky fucking watching Steve eating a chick out.

“Ohh,” is all Steve can spout out in response, his hands slipping back down to Bucky’s neck, his chest. Bucky’s fist is moving and he can’t help but look down, he wants to look down (??), wants to see their cocks hot together but wants to keep thinking about Bucky laying in bed with him and a girl.

“Ah Jesus, Stevie I could take her mouth and she could have yours. Yeah? Wanna see me fuck a girl’s mouth while you make her come like the fuckin’ stud you are? Huh?” Steve doesn’t even need to think.

“Fuck, fuck, yeah shit...yeah, dude yeah I’d—”

Steve doesn’t even know what he’s about to say, his knees digging into the mattress with vigor, the headboard smacking against the wall for the second time that night. He’s losing his rhythm and feels like he’s sprinting to a finish line, can’t take his eyes off of Bucky’s steel-blue ones. It must feel like he’s trying to get away, it even feels that hysterical to Steve, because Bucky lurches forward a bit, wraps his spare arm tight around Steve’s waist.

“Keep her lil’ pussy busy while I fuck her mouth, god, you’d be so sweet like that, wouldn’t you? So sweet for me?”

“Fuck, uh-huh yeah so fuckin’ sweet, so sweet.” He’d be anything Bucky wanted him to be if he asked. Bucky wants sweet he’s got it; Steve will do it for him.

“Fuck yeah you would, so sweet for me, baby,” and Bucky’s voice changes, alters, gets a little breathless, hand stutters over their cocks and gets a little messy. Steve wants to toss his head back and shout to the ceiling at hearing Bucky call him “baby” again. He loves it so much, loves being someone else’s baby, loves how it makes him want to blush and kiss Bucky on the cheek.

Steve Rogers doesn’t even know who he is anymore.

Bucky’s mouth mashes into his own, his breathing punched out with every roll of Steve’s hips, every downstroke of his hand. He’s panting into Steve’s mouth, heavy and wet, and Steve knows what this is, feels it himself.

They’re going to come.

Bucky is going to come and Steve is going to come and they’ll come together and Steve will get to see Bucky’s come and that is not something he ever knew he wanted to see. He thinks Bucky notices it too, makes his own whiny noise that sounds nothing like Steve’s, presses a line of slippery kisses up Steve’s cheek to his ear.

“Y’think she’d like to sit back and watch me get my mouth on your pussy?”

Steve is going to come.

“M’gonna—! Oh shit!”

“Shit yeah, me too come on, come on, Steve lemme see you blow that pretty load all fuckin’ over me.”

“I’m—oh fuck— ’m gonna nut, Buck I’m—”

Steve enjoys orgasms. Who doesn’t? He likes the waves of pleasure, tends to be a little loud, enjoys seeing someone else come too, but this orgasm isn’t like anything he’s ever experienced in his life. He almost panics when he feels his balls draw tight (fuck, their balls are still touching), gasps when he gets caught up in that last second before he crashes over that cliff.

He feels his fingers dig into Bucky’s hair, can tell that Bucky’s mouth is moving against the side of his face, whether it be from something that resembles kisses or from speaking is lost on Steve. He is far too focused on letting himself feel and letting someone be in almost total control of his own orgasm. He can’t stop making noises, ones that sound like he’s choking, is sure he’s saying Bucky’s name, can feel his own fucking come slick up Bucky’s hand even more.

He thinks Bucky says something about him coming, but like everything else it’s lost on Steve. His hips are still pulsing, as his his cock, hands unable to choose one spot on Bucky’s body to lock onto, manages to look down between their bodies just in time to—

“Fuck yeah—”

See Bucky come. The noise Steve makes sounds like one that indicates he’s in pain but the only pain he feels is never having let a guy give him a handjob before. He’s almost worried he’s going to come again when he hears the noise Bucky makes, a deep one but one that sounds a little like a sob, one that Steve wants to soothe with a kiss or some shit. Steve’s orgasm is one that is long, so long, one that he gets to enjoy right alongside Bucky.

“Bucky, god I’m still—fuck.”

The other man chuckles into the hinge of Steve’s jaw in response, a noise a mixture of disbelief and his own pleasure. The arm around his waist gets uncomfortably yet perfectly tight, Bucky taking the opportunity to press his own hips up, to practically lift Steve in pulses as he lets his orgasm take him away a bit. His hand is still moving, still pumping wetly over the two of them, but they are long tugs, ones that milk the two of them together, together. The noises are filthy and wet, just like the ones that push him over the edge when he watches porn.

Bucky’s groans in his ear make his spine tingle, make him tip his head down and look between their bodies.

Steve has come on his dick. It’s Bucky’s come. Mostly.

This is fine.

The room around them— the spaces beyond Bucky’s mouth and Bucky’s skin— slowly comes back into Steve’s awareness. It is a room. It’s Steve’s room, and he’s in Bucky’s lap. This is his room and it’s the same room where Steve just sucked a dude’s cock and kinda ate his balls too and this— this is the room where Lucky Bucky Barnes called him “sweet” and called him “baby” and those things made Steve feel really, really good and then his personal hero jerked them both off until they came and now Steve is looking down at their come and their softening dicks and realizing that he doesn’t know where his come starts and Bucky’s come ends.

This is. This is fine.

Steve can feel Bucky’s gravelly chuckle before he hears it. The larger man’s arm is still around his waist, still pulling them close, but it starts to loosen up as Bucky’s head tilts back and hits the wall with a thud.

“Chill out, Rogers,” Bucky laughs. “I just made you come like a fire hose. Enjoy the fuckin’ afterglow.”

Steve faintly registers that he must still be a little bit high because he’s reeling but he’s not totally freaking out, all things considered. And Bucky is, just�� cool. As ever. Steve should be cool, too. Steve should enjoy the afterglow like Bucky says he should.

“But, uh, hey— not that I’m not really likin’ having you in my lap an’ all, but…”

Steve looks up at Bucky’s face, confused, sees Bucky’s funny little grin and his gesturing glance downwards, follows said glance with his own eyes like he’s going to look down and find literally anything other than two soft cocks and Bucky’s come-coated hand and—

“Oh, shit. Yeah dude, lemme…”

Steve feels like a newborn colt— stumbling, and also holding his open shorts up— when he finally extracts himself from Bucky’s lap and goes to find a towel for them. He wipes off his own dripping dick with one end before handing the towel over to Bucky. Bucky takes it with a roll of his eyes, uses the exact same end of the towel to wipe his hand and his own dick because oh, yeah, that’s both of their come mixed together so who gives a shit.

He’s watching Bucky clean up when it hits him: this was a one-night stand. It’s— it’s Bucky Barnes, for god’s sake. Of course he’s gonna fuck whoever he wants and never see them again. Steve fully intends to sort through all that is implied by the fact that he doesn’t want to be Barnes’s hit-it-and-quit-it but he is one hundred percent positive that he does not want that, wants to hang out with this dude again, preferably in a sexual capacity but he’s open to whatever.

Steve mentally sorts through how to solve this problem as he sits down on the edge of the mattress. Bucky hasn’t said anything since Steve got up. He doesn’t look uncomfortable; the opposite, actually. Bucky is looking at Steve with an amused quirk to his lips like he knows everything that Steve is thinking and is highly interested in whatever Steve is going to do next.

Right. So. Steve just got handsy with someone he met at a party. He wants to see that someone again. Steve makes up his mind, decides to do what he would do any other time he’s found himself in this situation.

“Hey, uh,” he mumbles, “can—can I get your number.”

find the full fic on Ao3

#put you on something new #stevebucky #steve/bucky #stucky #steve x bucky #stucky ff #stucky au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america

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atombombbibunny · 7 years ago

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The Proposition

Prompt: If you do Rafael Casal imagines can you do one where daveed matchmakes you please?

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Summary: Daveed wants to set you up on a blind date.

Word count: 2092

Warnings: None, just fluffy cotton candy.

A/N: Oh god, I loved writing this!!! I wish I could find someone as sweet as the people I write… Writing this made me blush like really hard… I wish I could tag whoever requested this but it was Anon!!! Whoever you are I hope you liked it!

@serkewen12 reeeeead it!!

You flopped into your soft velvet couch. “Uhg I dunnooo.” you groaned hiding your face in the throw pillow, you felt a foot poke into your kidneys causing you to flinch and giggle simultaneously. “You haven’t even heard what I’m going to say, I literally walked in here and told you I had a proposition for you” You rolled over to face Daveed, your roommate sitting across from you, “Propositions are haaaaard.” you whined. Daveed glared at you.

“Are you serious, you won’t even hear what I have to say.” You snorted as you pulled out your phone. “Tell you what, you tell me what you got and I’ll check my schedule.” Daveed leaned his arms on his knees and stared at you. “I have this friend, Rafael, I think you two would be perfect together. I wanna set you up on a blind date.” You hissed in a sharp breath. “Oh, sorry can’t make it.” You lied staring at your blank phone calendar. “I haven’t even told you a date.” he said deadpanned. You froze as he spoke. “Y/N, you can’t just freeze up.” you stayed still, your eyes unblinking, unwise choice as Daveed bent forward and swiped your phone from your hands. “Dude, what the fuck.” you said moving from your spot, Daveed’s fingers flipped through your phone. “There’s literally nothing on here.” You shrugged and leaned back onto the couch. “How are blind dates even still a thing?”

Daveed snorted still playing with your phone. “How would you know anything is still a thing, you don’t leave this apartment.” You opened your mouth in defense but ended up scoffing. “I-… I do things. Just yesterday I got a bagel.” Daveed threw your phone back at you almost smacking you right in the face. “You get a bagel everyday.” You unlocked your phone to see what he messed with. “Yeah, but I went to a different shop!” Just as you finished your sentence you opened up your contacts. “Who is Rafa?” You questioned raising an eyebrow, Daveed broke out into a huge grin. “Oh no, no no no.” You moved to delete the mystery mans number, Daveed suddenly hopped to his feet. “So help you god Y/N, you delete that number I’m moving out! Then how will you afford your precious bagels.” You glared at him clenching your jaw. “Fine.” you muttered Daveed smiled as he began backing away.

“I already texted him anyway.” Just then your phone buzzed in your hand. Daveed quickly bolted from the living room and into his bedroom. “Daveed Diggs! I swear to Christ I will murder you!”

“NOT IF I LOCK MYSELF IN HERE!”

You looked back at your phone and got into your messages. You read the message Daveed so expertly sent.

Y/N: Hey bro, its Daveed.

Rafa: Hey Diggs, you get a new number?

You sighed at the frustrating situation, you had to let him know it wasn’t Daveed, you didn’t want him texting you some random shit meant for Daveed.

Y/N: Hey, this is actually Y/N, Daveeds roommate, hes just being an ass

Your leg automatically began to bounce out of nervous habit waiting for his reply, your phone buzzed on your lap.

Rafa: Haha, classic. Well Hi, I’m Rafael.

Um, he wanted to actually have a conversation with you?

Y/N: Yeah, I know… you actually wanna keep talking to a stranger?

You glared back at Daveeds door, hoping he could feel your wrath.

Rafa: If you’re a friend of Daveed you’re cool in my book.

You bit at the inside of your cheek, debating on just ignoring him and risk Daveeds threat, or making a new friend. You groaned once more.

Y/N: Where’d you get that line, Cheesy Things to Say: Vol. 1?

Rafa: No.

You sighed at his lack of humor, how was he supposed to be ‘perfect’ for you exactly? Your phone buzzed once more

Rafa: It was Vol. 2

You giggled lightly as you continued to texting the evening away.

Around 6pm Daveed peaked out from his door, you were still sat on the couch bent over your phone.

He strutted out from his room. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” You jumped at the sound of his loud voice. “Jesus, warn a person.” You placed your hand on your heart. “Getting along with Rafa are we?” You shrugged unwilling to give him any satisfaction. “He’s nice.” Daveed chuckled. “Just nice, sure. Hey, check your calendar for me?” You squinted your eyes and tilted your head confused.

As you opened the calender you saw an event placed in your weekend., scrolling down to around 7pm in bright blue border it read. ‘Date Night With Rafael’ Your shoulders dropped as you tossed your phone on the coffee table. “Daveed, you cannot just control my love life!” You shouted standing from the couch. “I can when its a blind date.” He taunted dashing into the kitchen.

The rest of the week blew by, Saturday was there and the time ticked by quickly, soon you were finishing your makeup in your floor length mirror and zipping up your dress, struggling as your short arms couldn’t reach. “Daveed!” you called out, almost immediately he was at your door. “What, what is it!?” you pouted and pointed to your back. “You gave me heart attack.” He mumbled as he pulled at the zipper, once done up you smoothed down any wrinkles and checked yourself out in the mirror. Your dress was tight and a deep red color with lace over top, with black heels. Daveed wolf whistled from behind you. “Damn girl.” You blushed and pushed him out of your room.

You heart was banging in your chest like a drum.

You pulled up to the restaurant, as you removed the keys from the ignition you sat silently, praying that you wouldn’t make fool of yourself. You heels clicked as you entered, the interior was dim with only candle lighting the atmosphere. You gave your name to the host and he began to lead you to the two person table.

You had arrived first. Or just got stood up.

You ordered a glass of wine as you sat.

A few minutes passed, your wine arrived and as you took your first sip, in he walked. He talked to the host briefly before his eyes found your, he smiled and your heart skipped a beat.

His blond hair was slicked back, his stubble was visible even in the dim light, his crisp white dress shirt with the sleeve rolled up halfway was tucked neatly into his dark jeans. Your breath caught in your throat unfortunately causing you to choke on the sip of wine. You attempted to clear your throat and calm down before he came any closer to you. He licked at his lips as he neared you. “Y/N?” You bit your lip lightly and nodded. “Yes, yes. Hi” you laughed lightly getting up to shake his hand, but he went to hug you, the awkward moment finished when he wrapped his arms around you, his cologne was light and musky. You would’ve melted right then and there if you weren’t in public.

He released you and you both took your seats, the candle light glimmered over his face, as he smiled at you. “Its so great to finally meet you.” you giggled feeling your cheeks heat up. “Yeah, this is great.”

He ordered a bottle of wine, the same as the glass you already had, and you both ordered your food.

The two of you were in your own world as you talked about each other, although you knew some bits about him already you both agreed to save some things for the big night.

His voice was deep and low and you were so entranced by it, you could have listened to it all night.

You fingers brushed one another as you fell further into your deep conversations.

After dinner was over, you were dreading the goodbye about to come but instead he took hold of your hand. “Want to go dancing?” he asked leading you outside. “I’d love to.” you admitted as you blushed deeply. “What about my car?” You asked suddenly remembering your drove separately. “I promise I’ll bring you back.” he said unlocking his car and opening the door for you, you slid in and attempted to calm your heart.

You drove in relative silence, it was comfortable though, you felt like you could relax. His car soon came to a stop as you had arrived at the jazz club.

After opening your door once more and linking arms with you ushering you inside, his hand was almost immediately out for you to take hold of.

A few fast swing dances played, Rafa spun you around and taught you to do the octopus, you laughed as he spun you outwards and back into his chest and lowering you backwards to the floor, your eyes glued to his. The song then merged into a slow song. He slowly pulled you up and took hold of one hand and rested the other on your waist.

You felt your heart leap into your throat as 'You Don’t Know Me’ began to play.

He held you close to his chest, you leaned on it as the both of you swayed back and forth slowly, you could hear his heart beating in his chest, it was low pounds and almost hypnotizing. Soon you could hear Rafael humming along to the song, then singing quietly, like it was only for you. You closed your eyes and listened to his voice, it was deep and soothing.

’Ooo, you’ll never know, the one who loved you so, oh you don’t know me.’ the song turned from lyrics to a soft jazz guitar riff. “This is kinda a horrible song to be slow dancing to.” you joke your eyes still closed and your head still resting on his chest. He chuckled shaking his chest. “You’re right, but then again it is perfect to dance too, its slow, and low, and got you this close to me.” You felt your face burn up as you hid it away in his chest. “Ah, don’t hide, you’ve got too beautiful of eyes to do that to me.” You bit your lip and smiled up at him.

After that slow dance you both began to leave without a word to each other, but you both knew that it would be the perfect song to end the night with.

The drive back to your car was silent once more, but his hand slid over yours and took hold of it this time, you smiled and watched him drive through the quiet night.

The night was coming to an end as he pulled up next to your lonely car in the now closed restaurants parking lot. You turned to Rafael, your eyes almost sad as you looked at him. “I guess this is goodnight.” You mumbled, Rafa tilted his head to the side. “What? I need to walk to you to your door.” he said winking at you. You laughed lightly as he exited the car and rushed to your side and once again held the door open for you.

His hand intertwined with yours as you took the two steps to your car. “Well, I guess this is goodnight.” he said mimicking your words, you laughed and pushed at his chest lightly. “I’d love to see you again Y/N” he said seriously his eyes unable to look away from your lips, you nodded, a loss for words as he moved closer to you. Your back leaned against your car as he leaned into you, his lips grazing yours for a brief second before they pressed against yours, it was tender and sweet, the scent of him fill your head as his hand rested on your cheek. He unwillingly pulled himself back form the kiss, he smiled gently, giving you goosebumps. “Goodnight Rafael” you whispered out. “Goodnight Y/N” he said pushing your hair from your face and kissing you softly once more.

As you drove home you wished you could turn back and kiss him again, or call him just to hear his voice, or even text him.

As you entered you apartment you fell against the door and sighed like a love sick puppy.

You didn’t notice Daveed in the kitchen eating Chinese food. “That good of night, eh?” He asked causing you to jump, you flipped him off. “You’re lucky you’re a good matchmaker Daveed Diggs.”

#fluff #so cute #blushing hard #rafael casal #rafa #rafael casal x reader #x reader #blind date #Daveed Diggs #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #drool #love #date

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sinsiriuslyemo · 7 years ago

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Hello dearest readers!! I’m sorry this took me so long! I was meant to have a block of time where I could get this edited and posted, but the plans went awry, and I wasn’t able to until now :(

Nevertheless, here is episode 3! What are we thinking of the new season thus far?

EPISODE 3

“Well you must be our dates for the evening.” A tall man grinned, stubble making him look a bit rough for a fancy restaurant but it looked good on him. He extended a hand to Nevada, the other hand comfortable resting on the woman's backside. “Miles Morrissey, and this little lady is the queen of my castle,” he grinned and pulled her close, kissing her on the cheek before shaking Nevada’s hand.

“Also known as Lola,” the woman offered, smiling.

“Nevada Ramirez, this is my wife, Y/N,” Nevada replied, shaking both their hands and gesturing to the two seats on the other side of the table.

“Please, everyone calls me Dama,” you said, shaking their hands as well before they sat down.

“This is a nice place,” Lola commented, looking around as she sat across from Nevada while Miles took the seat across from you. “Don’t you think so, sugar?”

“A classy place for classy ladies,” he said with a smile as he gestured for the waiter to come over. “I'll have a bottle of champagne, top shelf, we're celebrating our new friends tonight,” he grinned at the waiter before turning back to Nevada. “I've heard so much from Jasper but I must say, I was eager to meet the man behind the stories myself, you're famous all the way on the west coast, Mr. Trujillo.” Miles grinned, he was very genuinely impressed with Nevada.

“I appreciate that,” Nevada replied, smirking a little in amusement at the pair. “Jasper had good things to say about you too, says you’re a real stand up guy,” he added as the waiter brought over the champagne and four glasses. He poured them each a glass and Nevada lifted his. “Bueno, to new friends, then.”

They all clinked glasses and took a sip.

“I love your dress, by the way, Dama. You have to tell me where you got it,” Lola said, smiling at you.

“Thank you, I actually bought it on Fifth Avenue.”

“Fancy,” Miles drawled out the end of the word and grinned before turning to his wife, stroking his fingers over her hand and wedding ring. “You want a dress like that, baby? We can go tomorrow and pick up anything you want.”

Nevada inwardly rolled his eyes, the only tell on his face being his slightly tilted brow. You, on the other hand, smiled at the way Miles talked to his wife, he was polite when he spoke to you but the only person he'd looked at for more than half a second was Lola. It was actually very romantic.

“So what do you both do?” you asked curiously.

“I procure items of value for people of wealth,” Miles said with a sip of his drink. “It's no Wall Street job but it beats flipping burgers,” he joked.

“He’s very good at what he does,” Lola offered as her hand rested on her husband’s lap

“Lola here is the one with all the talent,” he leaned in and grinned. “Best forger in the United States,” he said softly, smoothing his fingers through her hair. “I'm a lucky man, I worked a job with her about eight years back and the second I finished it, I proposed to her right on the spot. But hey, when you know, you just know.”

He took a moment to kiss her knuckles. Nevada couldn’t help but think that was a crock; there was literally nothing romantic about proposing to someone after knowing them a short period of time. Creepy, maybe, but perhaps this Lola was into that.

“Course she turned me down.” Nevada’s head tilted thoughtfully, Maybe not. “What sane woman says yes to a proposal after one day of meeting? But I'm nothing if not persistent. Like I said, eight years later and she gets prettier every day.”

Lola smiled at Miles and leaned over to give him a heated kiss, which after a moment had them all but groping each other at the table. Nevada arched a brow at the pair, looking down at the menu.

“So, what do you do, Dama?” Lola asked, smiling at you again.

“I run a tutoring center and raise our kids,” you said softly, smiling at Nevada. “He thinks he does all the heavy lifting but I've been potty training so I'm doing the real work,” you teased.

“Oh you have kids? How many?”

“Four, three biological and one is our nephew.”

“Full house,” Miles said with a grin. “Lola and I thought about kids once but we just couldn't take all the crying.”

“They don't cry that much,” you offered.

“I was talking about me,” he winked and you all laughed. Well, three of you actually laughed, Nevada just pretended to find it funny.

As the waiter came over, he couldn't help but look over Lola in appreciation.

“You like what you see?” Miles said with a smirk at the waiter. “Keep looking and it'll be the last thing you see, we clear?”

The waiter's eyes went wide as he nodded and took your orders, never looking up from his notepad before going back to the kitchen.

You watched as Miles checked his wife over, smoothing her hair affectionately and kissing her neck.

“I don't like his eyes on you,” he purred, “Want me to take care of him out back?”

Your eyes widened and you couldn't help but watch them, sipping your drink, this was like watching animal planet and you were loving it.

“Maybe later,” she whispered, smiling softly.

“How long you guys in town for?” Nevada asked, trying to make things...not so damn awkward.

“Not sure,” Miles answered, lazily draping an arm on the back of Lola’s chair. “Jasper told me he's got a job lined up for me, so we'll see how that goes. So far we're enjoying the place. You guys seem nice, always good to have friends,” he said as he sipped on more of the Champagne.

“New York is pretty intoxicating,” Lola mused. “Jasper mentioned that you both grew up here.”

“Born and raised,” Nevada replied, nodding his head. “What about you guys? Where you from?”

“I'm from Texas, though I like to think I lost most of my accent traveling all over the world. Lola here is from sunny California. Right near Hollywood, home of big stars and fast cars.”

“I’ve heard good things about California, Dama wants to take the kids out there to Disneyland,” Nevada mused.

“Is it true what they say, about everything being bigger in Texas?” you asked curiously.

“I can assure you, everything is a lot bigger in Texas,” Lola replied, hand moving to grip Mile’s crotch under the table as Nevada’s phone rang.

“Sorry, gimme a second,” he mumbled, all to happy to be excusing himself from the table and winking at you as he got up to answer his phone.

“How old are your kids, Dama?” Lola asked, hand still moving over her husband.

“Um,” your eyes followed her hand movements before you focused yourself. “My nephew is nineteen, my daughter is six, my twins are both almost three,” you said with a smile.

“How do you get a moment alone?” Miles asked with a smirk.

“You don't,” you laughed. “Or you pray for nap time.”

Lola chuckled softly as Nevada came back to the table.

“Oye, I’m really sorry pero I gotta go,” he said apologetically. “One of my brother’s kid is missing, I gotta be there. Can we take a raincheck on dinner?”

“Oh of course,” Lola replied, looking to Miles for confirmation.

Miles nodded, “You want help looking?” He offered as they both stood.

You frowned and stood as well, looking nervous at Nevada to wonder who's kid was missing.

“That’s nice of you, I mean, if you don’t mind, I don’t wanna take you away from your wife,” Nevada answered.

“She can keep your wife company,” he smiled at Lola. “Right baby?”

“Absolutely,” Lola answered with a grin, nodding her head.

“Alright, thanks,” Nevada replied, bending to kiss your mouth. “I’ll see you later.”

You kissed back, “be safe,” you said seriously as you watched Miles pull Lola in close and give her a long kiss before following Nevada out. You furrowed your brows, sitting with Lola and silently praying that everything was okay.

Nevada pulled over against the sidewalk, Miles following him out to where OJ and Josiah along with some of Trujillo’s other men stood.

“How long has he been missing?” Nevada asked OJ, who was near tears, something Nevada had never seen before or even think he would see in his lifetime.

“Six hours. Melissa said he went to go play with some of the neighborhood kids and never came home,” OJ answered.

Miles politely introduced himself to a few of the men while they awaited further instruction. He was more than happy to go wherever he was needed.

“Alright, bueno, let’s fan out and look for him. You and Josiah go talk to the neighborhood kids. Miles and me will go talk to the store owners, see if they saw anything. Everybody else, go underground, see what the word is around the street,” Nevada delegated, cocking his head in gesture to Miles to follow him.

“Dale, pendejos, find my kid,” OJ bellowed, moving with Josiah to find the kids his son had been playing with.

“Let’s start at the bodega,” Nevada said to Miles, pointing to the convenient store across the street.

Miles nodded, “You got a picture I can show?” he asked as he walked into the store with Nevada.

“Yeah, hang on,” Nevada replied, taking out his cellphone and pulling up a photo of OJ’s oldest son, Tres, with Lily and the twins, asking Miles for his number so he could text it to him.

Miles nodded as he moved to the back first, asking the clerks who were stocking product while Nevada asked the front. A few of them recognized the boy but hadn't seen him today. Miles moved to the next store, asking the same questions. The two of them covered three blocks before finally stopping for a rest, having come up with nothing.

“I got a bad feeling about this, bro,” Nevada mumbled as he lit up a cigarette, offering one to Miles.

Miles took it, “We should talk to the others and see if they found anything. Can you report it to the police?”

“Yeah, I think my sister in law already filed a missing person’s report. I got a guy inside, he’ll give us whatever leads they come up with so we can do our own search. Cops around here, for the most part, are a bunch of clowns,” Nevada replied. “There are really only two or three that actually do their jobs, and they’re in my pocket.”

Miles nodded, “Well if you get word they're taking the kid out of state, I have contacts all across the map. I'll help best I can,” he said seriously.

“I really appreciate that,” Nevada replied.

“Yeah man, anything I can do.”

Rafael was back to submerging himself in his case files while Roxie took a bath before her mother would arrive. He was already regretting asking his future mother-in-law to dinner simply because he didn’t think neither he nor Roxie would be very good company at the moment. Still, they had to pull themselves from the wreckage of their broken hopes and dreams. They had to try to bring themselves up, even if it was only for a little while.

When the doorbell rang, Roxie opened it without word to her mother, nodding her in.

“Hello darling, I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of cooking and packing a meal for the three of us,” her mother said as she walked in, smiling softly. “I thought I would take the burden off your shoulders.”

“Thank you mother,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor as she moved to sit at the table.

“Of course, love.”

Helena moved to set the containers on the coffee table and took some paper plates and plastic cutlery from her bag before she served each of them a plate, looking around.

“Where is that handsome fiance of yours?” she asked, looking to her oldest daughter and gingerly placing one of the plates in front of her.

“I'm not sure, in the bedroom probably,” Roxie stood, moved to the bedroom and opened the door. “Dinner,” she said softly.

“Okay,” Rafael replied from the bed, eyes still on the case file in front of him while his hand scrawled over a yellow legal pad. “I’ll be right there.”

She nodded and sat back down at the table, staring at the meal for a long moment, “This looks delicious.”

“I’m glad,” Helena replied softly. “To be frank, I was worried it wouldn’t live up to your standards. I’ve been round Lavender Bakery with your father just the other day. It’s brilliant, Roxanne,” she added sincerely.

Roxie smiled at that, “Thank you,” she said gently. “That means a lot.” She looked to her mother as she took a bite of the food. “That's delicious, mum. I don't think you've ever cooked for me,” she chuckled. “I didn't know you could cook.”

“I don’t get the opportunity to very often. Your father always insisted I let the staff handle all of that...but I’ve always loved being in the kitchen. You might have inherited your passion for food from me,” Helena answered, smiling softly at the younger brunette as Rafael came out of the bedroom. “There you are. Sit,” she said, gesturing to the seat beside Roxie and setting a plate down.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hume,” he said politely, forcing a smile onto his face.

Roxie took another bite and coughed a bit. “Mother, what exactly did you put in here?”

“Nothing special, caramelized pumpkin seeds, coriander, pork seasoning and a sprinkle of cumin.” Helena frowned, “Do you not like it.”

“No it isn’t that,” Roxie stood politely and excused herself to the bathroom to spit out the food.

“Roxie’s allergic to cumin,” Rafael mumbled. “But it’s delicious,” he offered, eating more from his plate.

“Oh dear…” Helena said softly. “Well, I’ll--I’ll just go and fetch her something else that she can eat, then. No trouble at all,” she replied, smiling and quickly standing to grab her purse, pausing for a moment, she looked back at Rafael nervously. “Is she allergic to any other foods?”

She’d never felt more awful than she had in that moment, not even knowing what her own daughter was allergic to. It was embarrassing.

He gave her a comforting smile as he shook his head and answered, “No. Just cumin.”

“Right. One dish, minus cumin, coming up. I’ll just be a moment,” she said, walking out the door.

Roxie came back, wiping her tongue and coughing a bit as she sat back down, cheeks a bit pink from coughing. It wasn't a terrible allergy thank goodness.

She took a deep breath and sat back down with Rafael.

“She went to get you something else to eat,” he said softly, moving her plate away from her. Even though it wasn’t a terrible allergy, he always worried about her having a reaction from the scent of the spice.

She smiled softly at the way he protected her from even the smell.

“I want to go home,” she said after a long moment. “To our home.”

He smiled a little and nodded his head as his hand took hers under the table.

“Okay, I’ll book a flight tomorrow, and we’ll go home,” he replied. “You know, Y/N’s been through this...maybe you can call her...talk. It might help,” he offered softly after a moment.

She nodded and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “It's not like we can't try again,” she offered as a silver lining as she stared down at her plate and chuckled. “My mother would make an efficient assassin.”

“She actually seemed pretty upset that she didn’t know you were allergic,” he replied softly, smirking a little. “And we will try again. Someday. When we’re both ready to...we’ll try again,” he said, stroking her skin with his thumb.

She nodded as she look down at their conjoined hands. “I want to marry you, just you and me, Key West, Hemingway House, making love by the water,” she shut her eyes tight. “I want that.”

“So do I,” he answered. “Let’s work on that once we get home,” he added, smiling softly.

She nodded and kissed his cheek, “Don't kiss my lips, cumin mouth,” she crinkled her nose and sat back down as her mother came in.

“I wasn’t going to,” he replied as Helena came in with a proud smile on her face.

“I asked them to put everything in separate containers, just in case,” she said, setting the boxes in front of Roxie before she took the original plate she’d served her. “I’ll just get rid of this.”

Roxie smiled softly at Helena. “Thank you mum,” she said as she took the new meal and took a bite. “This is delicious.”

Helena smiled in satisfaction as she, too began to eat.

“So...I realize this question must not be one that you care to be answering at the moment but, how are the two of you doing?” she asked softly, looking up at them.

“We’re working on it,” Rafael answered.

“Absolutely dreadful,” Roxie answered honestly, not looking up from her food as she continued to eat. “I feel as if my rubbish body couldn't hold the only thing it's built to hold together. Rafael's being a good sport, but we're both drowning in our own grief trying to figure out what our next step is. And I don't particularly want to go back to an apartment when I've already purchased a large amount of gender neutral baby clothing, but I have to face it at some point. Right?” It was the most she'd spoken since they'd lost the baby, all at once and very quickly. She put a smile on her face immediately, finishing her meal, “Delicious, mum.”

“Oh darling,” Helena said softly, giving her daughter an empathetic look. “I know it’s the most dreadful ordeal a woman could go through, and what you’re feeling is absolutely normal. There’s no timetable for getting through something like this, but when you have the support of your partner, which you clearly do, it will get easier with time,” she replied, reaching to gently squeeze the hand not holding Rafael’s.

She offered her daughter a soft smile.

“I know I...wasn’t the best mum to you. Bloody hell, I wasn’t much of a mother at all, was I? But I do love you, Roxanne. And I want to try to make up for things now. I know it’s rather late, but it’s important to me for us to have a relationship. A true relationship.”

Rafael looked over at Roxie, trying to assess her reaction and gently squeezing her hand under the table.

Roxie looked to Rafael and sniffled as she nodded, “Okay,” she whispered softly as she looked back at Helena. “I'm willing to try,” she offered.

Her mother smiled again, so did Rafael as he stood and kissed the top of Roxie’s hair before bringing the empty paper plates to the trash.

“That meal was delicious, Mrs. Hume. Thank you for bringing it to us,” he said.

“I'm happy to help anyway I can. I'm very glad I got a chance to meet you, Rafael, though I wish it were under better circumstances. You seem like a wonderful young man.”

“Thank you,” he answered, smiling faintly back at her. “I’m glad we got to meet too.”

He almost asked to hear stories of Roxie’s childhood when he realized that she may not have them to share. Instead, he quietly suggested to Roxie that she and her mother spend some time alone to reacquaint themselves with one another.

Roxie looked hesitant but nodded, giving him a long hug before moving to sit in the living room with her mother.

Nevada met you back home much later in the evening. He and Miles had been looking everywhere, with no sign of Tres. Finally they all decided to call it a night and start fresh in the morning. Chibby and Sawyer had their computers collecting all the traffic cam footage from the area. With any luck, they would at least get a clear shot of whoever took him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Tres fucking just disappeared, nobody’s seen him since this afternoon,” he added, going into the fridge for a beer.

“I know, I talked to Melissa, Lola and I went to look around parks and by the school.” You pulled him to you in a tight hug. “Oh god I can't imagine what Melissa is going through,” you whispered as you looked up stairs. “They're all asleep in our bed, I don't want to be away from them tonight.”

“Where are we gonna sleep?” he asked in a chuckle. “It’s a big bed, mami, pero not for five people.”

“We can make it work,” you said softly. “The twins like sleeping on you and me anyway.” You didn't return his smile, not letting go of him in the hug.

He sighed heavily, preparing for a very uncomfortable night.

“Alright,” he replied, hugging you back and rubbing his hand over your spine. “We’re gonna start looking for him again in the morning,” he mumbled. After a moment he added, “I got a really bad feeling, Dama. Real bad feeling.”

You shut your eyes tighter and shook your head, “Don't say that, he's a good kid, nothing can happen to him,” you whispered as tears ran down your cheeks. You wouldn't let him go, tugging him tighter against your body.

“He is a good kid, but that doesn’t mean something bad hasn’t happened,” he couldn’t help but say. “I hope not, pero...we should’ve found him by now.”

You nodded and wiped the tears off your cheeks.

“I just wanna be with my kids right now,” you whispered.

“Alright, come on. Let’s go to bed,” he replied.

#Nevada ramirez #rafael barba #trouble in the heights #law and order svu #cuba v dr

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