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ramp-it-up · 1 month ago

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Worth the Fall

Summary: James Bucky Barnes WAS an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. Despite the fact you have questions about Bucky and your parents’ conversation at Thanksgiving, you’re hitting your groove as a couple, but there is no time for alone time.

Word count: 3.4 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This part of the story is getting everything caught up to a month ago, lmao. Thank you for continuing to rock with this story. And let me know if you like it (I hope you do!)

This fic is in the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after both You've Got Me Thinking and the Steve Rogers fic Peach III.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Initial angst, Steve and Peach, Bucky’s anxiety. No time for nookie! Flirting Intimations of sexting and phone sex. Praise kink, fluffy Bucky, horny Bucky, dom Bucky. F@cking versus making love, wall time, sex with clothes on, raw p in v, creampie, after care, intimations of oral (f receiving!) dirty talk, Bucky applies for a second job. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

————

You walked along the sand and inhaled the ocean air.

You were shaken to the core.

Bucky Barnes had surely just taken your parents out to ask for your hand in marriage. But it was so soon, how could he be so sure?

Also, you were an independent woman. How dare he talk to your parents before he asked you to marry him!

He wasn’t your feudal lord.

You were scared witless and turned to the waves to try and calm down.

“He loves the hell out of you, you know.”

Steve had fallen in beside you as you stared at the ocean. You looked up at him, trying to smile, but failing. To Steve you looked terrified.

“It’s just so….”

Steve smiled to himself, remembering that Bucky had purchased the ring weeks before, after just a few days of knowing you. But that wasn’t his story to tell.

“Just know that I’ve never seen him like this. And I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s never been so open, so determined with a woman before. You make him a better man. It’s truly amazing.”

Steve looked so earnest. Your cousin had done quite a number on him.

“You don’t have to be scared. You are ‘The One’ for him.”

This time you managed a smile and an arched eyebrow. You had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about his best friend.

Steve chuckled.

“Gah. Don’t look at me like that. You and Peach and that eyebrow.”

You laughed at that and grinned, more relaxed now.

Steve looked off into the waves himself.

“So fucking cute…”

He looked down and kicked a rock, a small smile on his face. You could tell he had it bad.

“Thanks for the pep talk Steve-o. And I get what you’re saying. I love Bucky Barnes with all my might, making every other relationship I’ve ever had seem… trivial.”

You glanced at Steve, who was nodding at your sentiment.

“I’m just spooked at the possibilities. I mean…this seems…like a lot.”

“I know. Bucky gets intense.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“Understatement of the year. And you’re a lot like your friend.”

Steve looked at you, one eye closed from the sunlight in his eyes. He didn’t have any sunglasses and the sun highlighted his windswept hair and the planes of his handsome face. You were squinting at him and you could totally see why Peach let him touch her goodies.

Steve was kinda hot.

You sighed.

“Listen. I’ll be alright. Bucky and I just need to chat.”

Steve smirked.

“Chat. Is that what the kids call it now?”

You laughed and swatted him on the arm as you continued walking again.

“Fuck you, Steve. But for real. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it. And I love you for it. I just wish my cousin could see this side of you.”

Steve scoffed.

“Fucked that up good, didn’t I?”

“Not gonna lie, she’s kinda blinded by rage right now. But don’t give up on her. She’ll come around.”

Steve looked at you skeptically and you shrugged.

“80– 75% chance she’ll come around.”

You both laughed.

“Just remember what I said yesterday. She’s a tough nut, but she has a huge heart behind that wall. She is determined about the success of that dance school and she is competitive as fuck. You know what to do.”

Steve grinned.

“Yes ma’am, I do.”

—-

You and Steve re-entered the kitchen laughing, you holding on to his arm.

Peach was at the table drinking coffee and dedicated to ignoring Steve.

“Thanks again for the pep talk Steve. I appreciate it.”

You gave him a long hug and when you separated, you saw Peach’s eyebrow cocked in what you could only imagine was the way Steve described. You stifled a giggle and leaned up on your tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“You better stop before Bucky comes back and chops me in the throat.”

Peach humphed, and you knew exactly what she was thinking.

You laughed at Steve as he headed toward the stairs, ignoring Peach right back.

“I’m gonna go get my running shoes. A turn down the beach will help me get some of this tension out.”

You watched Peach as she watched Steve roll his neck and stretch on his way out of the room, her coffee stalled in mid air. Her head was on a swivel as he walked out of the room, checking out his formidable ass. She sighed and then remembered that you were there.

You looked at her and she looked at you.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t say a word, cousin. Yet. But we will talk later. Any coffee left?”

—-

The week ended up smoother than when Bucky and Steve arrived, and before you and he and Steve left on the jet back to New York, Bucky surprised everyone with an invitation to Vermont for Christmas.

Your heart did a funny little thing because why would he invite your entire family on an all expense holiday vacation from Christmas Eve to New Years unless he was going to…

You couldn’t dwell on what ifs, and you didn’t want to spook yourself. You just decided to appreciate the moment.

It was funny watching your cousin’s face and the corresponding look on Steve’s. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be stressful at all.

Perhaps there would be entertainment.

—---

Later, back in Brooklyn, there was a whirlwind of activity as the Rebirth Foundation geared up for the annual summit and gala.

During the second week in December, Rebirth Endowment recipients (which included your cousin this year!) flew in, were oriented and toured around New York City. The two culminating events were the summit, held at NYU, where there was an art lecture series, a panel, and the gala.

Steve usually participated in the summit by himself, with Sam or Natasha sometimes joining him on stage along with the city’s movers and shakers in the art scene.

But this year Bucky was participating.

He said he wanted to be more prominent in the Art community moving forward as a path toward legitimacy, and you knew that tangentially, that had something to do with you.

When you got back from Thanksgiving, there was a week to prepare for the activities. Your Arts and Culture Alliance in Brownsville, as a part of Rebirth through the Howard Benson exhibit, was a stop on the tour, and you had a ton of work to do.

Bucky and his three partners obviously had their own long list of to dos, but he also needed to be there for Steve, who was a wreck at the thought of Peach coming into town.

Steve was so far gone.

But James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d never seen Bucky Barnes shook.

Sure, you’d seen him excited, impatient, horny, angry, and a little irritated, but never truly nervous.

And you shouldn’t have thought it, but it was adorable.

Friday night, you met your cousin at the airport and witnessed the beginning of her downfall. The cocktail reception later at the hotel had her, and by proxy your own, head spinning.

You grinned at the way Steve was handling everything.

Bucky was beautiful and you admired him as he toasted the guests, his beautiful tenor a nice contrast from Steve’s baritone as they both gave their salutations. Only you knew how anxious he was to speak in front of people and for everything to go well. You felt privileged.

You realized that James Buchanan Barnes was a good man who just wanted to be better for you and for his community.

And suddenly you were not afraid of a future with him.

—-

During this time, you two shared brief cuddles and quick kisses, furtive touches and brief bouts of handholding when you saw each other at events. The mornings meant salacious pictures and quick phone sex to take the edge off, but you weren’t able to luxuriate in each other as you usually did.

You missed Bucky’s full attention, but the fact that you were working together on something worthwhile was the shit. You loved this man and you wanted to work beside him as an equal, not just be his sex toy.

This was the week that you fell completely in love with Bucky Barnes.

Thursday was the day of the Rebirth Art Summit and Bucky was pacing up and down his home office, reading glasses switching locations from perched on top of his head, to his delectable mouth, to his handsome face as he reviewed his notes.

You looked up from the ones in your hands with which you were quizzing him and smiled at him.

“Jamie, it’s going to be okay.”

He stopped to look at you, a faint smile on his face. He came over and pecked you on the lips and gave you a hug.

“‘M so glad you are here tonight, even though you tried to stay away.”

You sighed into his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his Bucky smell.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you, I was just giving you space. I know tomorrow is important to you and I don’t want to distract—”

“Frumoasă. You don’t distract from anything. If anything, you add to my life. You add so, so much. I love you. And I miss you. I want you here with me tonight.”

You melted into him, chuckled and shook your head as he held you. This feeling was crazy.

“What?”

You heard his voice in his chest, but he didn’t move, except to sway just a little, as if soothing you. It worked.

“I love you too, Bucky. And I miss you too. So much. It’s wild to feel so much in such a short amount of time.”

You and Bucky had only been together about three months, but you knew this was it.

“When you know, you know, my love. And we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

You hugged him tighter. What was understood didn’t need to be said.

He kissed the top of your head and then moved back so he could see into your eyes.

“And having you in my space while I get ready for an important event is everything.”

You looked him in the eye, thinking of sucking his dick for being such a dream.

“Bucky…”

Bucky took your hand and raised it to his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that, Frumoasă. I will be forced to fuck you all night long, something that is long overdue.”

He kissed your forehead.

“But there is much work to do.”

You cast your eyes down and whispered, “You’re right.”

Bucky took you in, looking so demure and being so patient with him. It was such a turn on.

“Such a Good Girl for me.”

You wanted to fall to your knees, but you just bit your lip and went to sit back down, crossing your legs as you began quizzing him again.

Soon, you told your pulsing pussy. Soon.

You worked late into the night and soon dozed on the leather couch in his study. The next morning, you woke in Bucky’s bed with a sweet note on your pillow. You smiled and knew that he’d carried you to bed and held you all night long.

—--

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

You sucked your teeth at your cousin’s comment, but you didn’t pull your gaze away from Bucky up on the dias the next day at NYU.

You were proud and in awe of your man. Your smirk turned into a grin as he glanced at you and started to speak.

You were down bad. And Bucky was too. After almost two weeks with little to no physicality, your energy was at supernova strength and about to cause a black hole in the universe.

That’s how intense this thing was.

You were wet and hard and soft in all the right places.

Bucky had to pause frequently for the interpreter, and it gave you a chance to make googly eyes at each other. You ignored Peach’s subtle retching noises as you concentrated on Bucky. But you cut your eyes over to her while Steve spoke and found her visibly eye fucking him. You smirked when she noticed you noticing.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

She was trying to distract you. You laughed.

“Fucking-A.”

You nodded up at the stage.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You were shocked as hell when she responded.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

You elected not to tease her about her response. It seemed as if Steve was working the plan.

You resumed watched as Bucky did his thing. He was glowing, handsome and impressive as hell. No one would believe he was as introverted as he was. But he was flourishing in the spotlight, seemingly born for his. He exuded confidence.

It was such a turn on.

—-

Bucky watched you watching him and talking to your cousin and knew your tells. You were probably wet and ready for him. He briefly thought of what he was going to do to you later before he refocused on the task at hand. Knowing you were there for him was such motivation.

When he made his way back over to you, you were an angel, giving him a huge hug and exclaiming, “You were so fucking good up there, Jamie! I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky felt his heart explode and although someone was pulling him away from you, he mouthed a promise in your direction.

—-

“Later...”

You definitely read those sexy lips and your heart started racing. You looked around for your cousin, expecting to be roasted, but she was nowhere to be found. You shrugged and made your way to the subway, assuming that she was gathering with the other recipients. There was more work to do in Brownsville and you were busy anticipating the night.

You waited all day for Bucky’s text to tell you what time Nico was picking you up, but it never came. The rest of the day flew by and by the time you were walking home, daydreaming of dressing up for the gala tomorrow night and what Bucky might wear, you happened to check your phone and saw messages he’d sent just 10 minutes before:

You looked so good today. Especially this morning. Good enough to eat.

I’ll be at your place in 30. Wear that bra, no top, that skirt, no panties, and those heels.

You blushed and thought of the mirror selfie of the cream lace lingerie set you were wearing underneath your cream colored cowl neck sweater and grey wool pencil skirt that matched your grey wool coat.

Yes, Daddy, you replied and picked up the pace to make it to your brownstone ahead of him, your heart beating a mile a minute.

You thought you were prepared when you opened the door after Bucky knocked, but you weren’t.

In fact, you were shaking with anticipation.

There he was, bundled up from the cold, but those blue eyes sparkling down at you.

Bucky stared at you for a beat, and then walked toward you, taking your face in his hands and backing you up against the entryway wall, kicking the door closed behind him.

“My Frumoasă. So good. So perfect”

And then he leaned down and kissed you.

—-

Bucky had the strangest thought as you opened your door.

I’m home.

Although this was not his place, he realized that you were his home and that he couldn’t wait to make you his wife. His eyes swept down your form, pleased that you had followed instructions. You were such a badass, capable woman and partner and he just had to be inside you soon.

He complimented you and his cock stiffened as your mouth parted in desire. He knew your praise kink very well. Bucky cradled your beautiful face and moved inside to kiss you.

His demanding mouth parted your trembling lips, sending tremors through your body. You clung to the lapels of his coat to tether you to earth as his tongue invaded your mouth. You suckled it, previewing what you wanted to do with his cock later.

He pulled away, his bright blue eyes blazing, and his jaw clenched so tight as he shrugged out of his winter coat. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was angry, but the look was desire.

And only for you. You grew warm from the inside out.

“I can’t wait. Wanna make love to you, but I have to fuck you now.”

Bucky bent his knees and grabbed your thighs, prompting you to wrap your legs around him and hold on to him as he walked you over to your couch.

You attacked his face as you were sat down firmly on the bulge in his pants and Bucky accepted your assault, chuckling as you kissed him from his hairline, to his forehead, down his nose, each cheek, skipping over his lips to his stubbly dimpled chin and finally back to that mouth. When he kissed you again, his hands were everywhere, starting at the nape of your hair, pulling so your neck was exposed as his mouth moved down to mark you up, then trailing down to your fine lace bra cups.

Bucky palmed your full breasts, weighing them in his hands and watching your face as he twisted your nipples. You nipples tightened under his touch and you arched your back, moving and giving him a view of what was underneath your skirt. He admired your ardor, you squirming and moaning on his lap.

It was his dream come true.

“So fucking hot, Frumoasa. I’ve been craving you. All day. All week. Ever since Thanksgiving. Since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Bucky…need you.”

You grasped the lapels of his jacket as his hand traveled down your torso and as he leaned down to travel under the hem of your skirt. Your soft fingers peeled his jacket away and unbuttoned his shirt. You opened it and ran your hands down his chest, rubbing his nipples with your thumb and trailed your hand down to his happy trail and proceeded to try and undo his belt buckle.

Bucky grew hot at the warmth of your thick thighs and the way your cunt was so hot that he could feel it through his pants.

He had to have it.

Panting now and desperate, Bucky tugged your skirt up, flashing your bare pussy, but it was difficult to get rid of because it was still buttoned. It slipped out of his hands and he grunted in frustration.

“Ah, poor baby…”

You leaned forward, brushing the locks of hair that had fallen into his flushed face, grazing your nipples across your chest with a sexy smile. Bucky whimpered and you smirked at his desperation. You slowly reached behind you to your zipper, pushing your chest toward Bucky’s face. He licked his lips and pulled your bra cups down, causing your warm breasts to spill out and his hands to be drawn to them again like magnets as he watched you loosen your skirt.

When you grabbed the hem to bring it over your head, he released you, watching as the fabric moved above your crotch.

Your pussy. Fuck.

Bucky could never get enough of staring at it, the dark petals, which were spread open for him as you sat on his lap were calling his name. He licked his lips, suddenly parched.

“What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted, no needed, to hear Bucky’s voice right now. You reached behind you again as you unclasped your bra and suddenly you were naked on an essentially fully dressed Bucky Barnes.

It was sexy as hell.

“I’m thinking that your pussy is a work of art, Frumoasă. It’s perfect. I’m thinking that I want to spend at least eight hours a day between your legs, make you cum over and over again, make you beg me to stop, and to start again. How I want you to taste you and make you squirt so I can swallow you down…”

You moaned and started grinding on his bulge, causing Bucky to curse.

“Damn, Baby. You’re gonna make me jizz in my pants like a teenager.”

Bucky grabbed your ass and reached between you to tease your clit, feeling how wet you were.

“Fuuuuuck, you’re so wet.”

Bucky’s eyes rolled as he grabbed your waist and lifted you to your knees on either side of him as he unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear just down past his ass to get his cock out. He grabbed your cheek as he stroked himself and rubbed his thick cock head in your juicy pussy.

“Fuck me Frumoasa. Slide down this dick for me.”

You brushed Bucky’s hair off his forehead again as you nodded and started to slide down his fat, hard cock. Your head lolled back on your neck as you reached the root of him.

“Oh… Bucky… Fuck….”

You could feel Bucky pounding inside you, long thick cock battering your cervix and you whined, leaning back and working your hips as Bucky fucked up into you and thumbed your clit while the other hand guided you up and down his dick.

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were shining as he looked up at you. You knew he was close and you couldn’t take it.

He started to speak and you knew it was over.

“Frumoasă. I-I’m gonna need you to… oh holy fuckkkkkk!”

His stutter made you start to cum.

As soon as your pussy started spasming around him, Bucky started shooting his spend all over your warm walls causing you to convulse and hug his head to your chest. He clutched you to him, whimpering as he held onto you for dear life as he came.

He collapsed backwards, taking you with him as you became boneless in his arms. You rolled off of him and curled up on the couch as Bucky stood and untangled himself from his clothes.

You closed your eyes for a minute as he got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth to clean you up. When he finished, he kissed your forehead and gathered you up in his arms.

“You turn me on like no one else, Frumoasă. You’re it for me. I love you.”

You cuddled into him as he lay you in your bed.

“Me too, Bucky. You’re my one. I love you, too.”

Bucky kissed your forehead again, and then proceeded to move down your body.

“Good, now. I need to clock into my main occupation. Hour one of eight.…”

—-

If you like it, hit Reblog! ☺️

Read the next part, Peach IV (SR)

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raspberrighost · 29 days ago

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Get your groove on!!

quick lil jazz doodle

#doodle #sketch #self insert #g/t #chris #transformers jazz #tf jazz #jazz x reader #transformer x human #technically they're not a ship #but chris exists for the plus sized baddies to see themselves so by all means

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achilles-rage · 7 months ago

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Oblivious

summary: you're a part of 50 squad, but with street being your best friend, you spend more time with 20 squad. after a rough day at work, street invites you out with the rest of the team. when tan and luca notice you talking to a man at the bar, they take matters into their own hands, knowing that you're both too dense to realize the other's feelings.

word count: 3.1k

request: @heypeople2 - hi! i’d love a friends to lovers fic with street where the reader is on mumford’s swat team, but is friends with all of street’s team and hangs out with them often. maybe two oblivious lovers? if that makes sense!

A/N: i had no idea where i was going with this at first, but i like how it turned out! enjoy<33

TW: none, allusion to smut, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You still remember every single thing that happened on your first day with 50 squad; it was a stressful day, and you weren’t even supposed to go into the field that day because you had suffered a shoulder injury and were still a few days from being cleared for going out into the field. The universe had different plans, however, and both 50 squad and 20 squad were called to the same place. They needed all the people they could get, so you were quick to tell Rocker you could step in. He wasn’t going to let you, not wanting to go against protocol, but the situation was extremely important, so he finally agreed.

You had a group of hostages with you, trying to take them down to the main floor of the building and to safety, when you saw another SWAT agent fall into the hallway a few feet in front of you, who you now know was Street. It was almost a blur how fast you moved, quickly ushering the hostages into the room you were in front of and moving to cover him, taking down the two suspects that had managed to get the upper hand on him.

From that day on, he was smitten. He was impressed by your skill, of course, especially after he learned that you were still injured, but he also thought you were gorgeous. If it wasn’t an active shooter situation, he would’ve had the time to watch your plush body maneuver through the doorway and take down two targets, how strong your thick thighs looked, how your gear clung to your soft belly and chest. Instead, he noticed after all the shooters were taken into custody, when you came over to ask if he was okay in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard.

You had noticed how attractive he was too, his broad shoulders, his lean torso. When you went to make sure he was okay, you were asking out of concern, but also because you were curious about him. He immediately continued the conversation when he told you he was alright, wanting to know everything that he could about you, and the rest is history. The rest of 20 squad quickly picked up on this new friendship, noticing the way your eyes would find each other in a room when the other person isn’t looking, and the way you talk to each other. They also quickly realized how truly oblivious you two were, as it seemed that neither of you knew the other person’s feelings.

Now, over a year later, you and Street are best friends, and it’s because of this that you find yourself hanging out with 20 squad more often than 50 squad outside of work, although you still love everyone on your own team.

“Rough day, killer?” you hear from across the parking lot as you step out of the armoured vehicle, groaning softly as you feel the pain in your shoulder. It may have been over a year ago, but after an especially hard day of work, your shoulder still gives you some trouble. It’s nothing some painkillers and a heating pad can’t fix, but until you get home and get them, the dull ache remains.

“You have no idea.” Street chuckles at your response, taking in your figure. He notices the way you’re holding yourself, he’s seen it before, he knows your shoulder is giving you trouble.

“We just got back a few minutes ago, we’re all going to get drinks. A drink or two might help with that.” he tells you, a smirk on his face as you walk over to him, starting to take off your gear.

“Yeah, alright. But it’ll be an early night. Want to share an uber over there? I don’t want to leave my car there overnight.” You want nothing more than to go home and lay on the couch with a heating pad over your injury, but as soon as the option of spending more time with Street appears, you can’t help but say yes. He shakes his head at your words, scoffing.

“I can just take you on my bike. I’m not drinking tonight.” he tells you nonchalantly, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest as he imagines you pressed against him on the back of his bike. He imagines your thick thighs wrapped around him, your torso against his back, even though he knows he shouldn’t be thinking about his best friend like that.

You tense at his words, your breath catching in your throat. You’re imagining the exact same scenario as him, but you can’t help the slight insecurities that race through your brain at the image. Your soft body pressed against his. He’d be able to feel every curve of your body, even the ones you usually keep hidden, knowing that although you’ve grown used to them, and are beginning to like your body again, not everyone likes to see them. You also think of having to sit on the tiny seat of his motorcycle, him having to hold up the bike along with your added weight, and you can’t help the nerves twisting at your insides. Imagining how you’d look squeezed onto the back of his bike is something you really don’t want to have to think about, so you’re quick to respond.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to-” He cuts you off, shaking his head as he speaks.

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to be spending money on an uber when you can just ride with me.” he tells you, but a hopefulness breaks through his features, lighting up his eyes ever so slightly. You pick up on this, and let out a sigh, knowing he won’t let this go. Maybe you can do it just this once, and then tell him it was too scary and you never want to do it again, you think. Maybe then, he won’t ask again.

“Alright, fine. I’m just gonna take a quick shower and change. I’ll meet you out here in 15?” you tell him, smiling softly as he nods. You turn and quickly walk into the building, making your way to the locker room.

The nerves are taking over every inch of your body as you rinse off quickly, your brain going into overdrive as you think about having to ride on Street’s motorcycle. It’s a short distance to the bar you guys usually go to, but it’s still a decent amount of time to be pressed up against Street.

Once you’re showered and changed, you go out to the parking lot, letting out a shaky breath before you get close enough to Street for him to hear it. He notices the way you’re still holding your arm a little awkwardly, and he feels a little bad for inviting you out.

“You take some painkillers already?” he asks softly, worry spreading across his face as you shake your head.

“I ran out. I’ll have to get some on my way home.” He turns and reaches into his bag, taking out a bottle of the same meds he’s seen you use. He never told you, but he went out and bought some when he found out which ones you prefer. He knows how much your shoulder bothers you after rough days, and he wanted to make sure you never have to go without them should you run out.

Your eyes soften as he pulls them out, and you take them from his hands. You take one quickly, then hand them back to him, thanking him softly.

He hands you his spare helmet once he puts the pills back in his bag and gets on, holding a hand out for you to get on behind him.

Your ascent is a little awkward, but you finally manage to get on with his help, your cheeks hot as embarrassment fills your stomach.

He finally starts to drive and you put your arms around his waist tightly, feeling your breath pick up as he turns onto the road. You know he can sometimes be a crazy driver, but he seems to hold back today, perhaps picking up on your nerves.

Street has a hard time focusing on the road as he makes his way to the bar; having you pressed up against him so tight has him fighting every urge to drive right from work to his house and dragging you upstairs to bed. The way your arms are tightly wound around him also gets him a little riled up; how you’re putting so much trust into him. He makes sure to take it easy. If anything were to happen to you because of his driving, he doesn’t think he would ever recover.

When you finally make it to the bar and walk in, Tan and Luca are quick to look over at you two, their eyes immediately going to each other with raised eyebrows as they see the way Street’s hand is on your lower back, and the way you’re looking over at him with twinkling eyes. They’ve been trying to get you two together for months; and they feel like tonight is finally the night they can make it happen. You catch up with the rest of the squad for a few minutes, before you lean to whisper in Street’s ear that you’re going to go get a drink.

“You want me to come with you?” he asks over the music and chatter of the bar, but you shake your head, giving him a soft smile. You tell him you’ll just be a minute before you turn and walk over to the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish with another customer.

“That’s a nice bike you rode in on. What year is it?” you hear a voice beside you speak. You turn with a raised brow, looking up at a man who came into the bar just after you, seeing you getting off of Street’s motorcycle.

“Oh, um, I have no idea.” you tell him, giving him a small smile.

“It’s a nice one, your boyfriend hasn’t told you anything about it?” Your breath catches in your throat at the word boyfriend. You feel embarrassed, but also a sense of pride that he thinks you’re dating him. You shake your head, letting out a soft laugh.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and he doesn’t talk much about it to me.” you admit sheepishly. The man gives you an awkward smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I just assumed-” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. You give him an earnest smile, putting your hand on his arm as you tell him that it’s alright. You can sense he’s a little embarrassed, and that wasn’t your intention. It was an honest mistake.

You’re so focused on the man that you don’t notice that Luca and Tan’s eyes are glued on you the moment the man walks up to you. Smirks break out onto both of their faces as they watch, both of them having the same idea.

“Hey, Street. I think that guy’s trying to steal your girl away from you.” Luca teases Street as he motions over to you at the bar. Street turns in the direction Luca’s pointing at, about to tell him that he doesn’t have a girl, but his words fall short. He looks over just in time for you to give the man a smile as you place your hand on his arm, and he can feel the jealousy bubbling up inside him.

“Yeah, man. You should go get her, before he tries to take her home.” Tan chimes in, smirking as he sees Street’s fists clench at his sides and his jaw clenched. Street is seeing red at this point, imagining you going home with that man instead of him.

He marches over to you quickly, unaware that the rest of the squad’s conversations have died down, and they’re all now looking at the situation unfolding with smirks.

“Hey babe.” he purrs, wrapping his arms around your plush waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He smirks at the man as he sees his brows furrow, feeling like he’s already won, but wanting to take it further.

“Uh, hey, Street. What’s up?” you ask, confusion laced in your voice as you turn your head to look at the side of his face. You’re used to his flirty tendencies, but this is definitely different than you’re used to.

“Just wanted to see if you were ready to go home.” he says in a low tone, kissing your neck softly. His eyes are trained on you, but he watches the man from the corner of his eye, his smirk widening as he sees the confused expression on the man's face and the way he takes a step back from you two.

“What are you talking abou-” You’re cut off by Street’s lips on yours, his hand coming up and using two fingers to tilt your head towards his. Your eyes widen in shock for a moment before you finally return the kiss, closing your eyes. He’s not sure what came over him at that moment. He’s wanted to do that since he met you, and watching you with another guy at a bar finally sent him over the edge. You pull back after a moment, turning back to the man, but realize he’s already walked away. You turn in Street’s arms, your eyebrows raised.

“What was that for?” you ask, your whole body feeling like it’s on fire, still reeling from the short kiss.

“He was flirting with you.” he states, as if that’s the only reason he needs. You laugh softly, shaking your head.

“He wasn’t flirting with me. He was asking about your bike.” It’s his turn to be confused. He stays silent for a moment, starting to think more clearly about what he just did. He kissed you, and you kissed him back, and you weren’t flirting with the man at the bar.

“Oh.” he says softly after a moment, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, his own still wrapped firmly around your waist despite his racing thoughts.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Why did you do that?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as you look up at him. You think you saw jealousy in his eyes as he approached, but you’re afraid that you’re just seeing what you want to see.

“I don’t know. I had to. I don’t want to see you with someone else.” he says, just loud enough for you to hear over the music. Your drink is long forgotten now as your heart seems to beat louder. Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“Why not?” You match his volume, and he almost has to bend down to hear you. He can see the glimmer of hope in your eyes, and he thinks that since he’s already gotten this far, he should just tell you the truth.

“I want you all to myself.” he states, smirking as he sees your eyes widen. Your lips part slightly as you try to think of what to say. He’s your best friend, and as deep as your feelings are for him, you’ve never had trouble speaking to him until now.

His eyes search yours as he waits for your response, and he sees the way your lips are beginning to twitch up into a smile and the way your eyes flicker down to his lips for half a second, so he takes his chance.

His lips meet yours again in a soft kiss, and it takes everything in him not to push you against the bar and take you right there. One of his hands reaches up to your jaw, tilting your head up into the kiss, deepening it. He smiles against your lips as you let out a soft whimper, and his other hand moves to squeeze your hip softly.

Your mind is reeling as you kiss him, and you’re not even worried about the way his body is pressed against yours as you get lost in the kiss. It’s not until you hear a loud clinking of a group cheersing their drinks that you pull back, breathing heavily. You have matching grins on your face as you stare into each other's eyes. Street’s eyes dart around the room before they land back on you. He leans in and whispers in your ear.

“You want to get out of here?” You bite your lip as you nod, neither of you even bothering to say goodbye to the squad as you make your way to the door.

The team have been watching the whole time, and they all fight back cheers as they finally see you two give in to one another. Chris chuckles as she watches you two leave, nudging Tan’s shoulder as she speaks.

“Finally. I was beginning to think your ideas were trash.” she teases him, which makes him shrug with a smile.

“They’re both idiots, but they’re perfect for each other, I guess.” The rest of the team agrees with Tan, and their conversations slowly move away from you two to other things, but none of them can wait to tease you two tomorrow.

When you get back to Street’s apartment, he immediately pushes you against the wall, his hands moving to your face as his lips meet yours in a searing kiss. You put your hands on his chest as he slots his knee between your legs, making your whimper softly.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he murmurs against your lips, hands going down and clawing at the hem of your shirt, desperate to see all of you.

You smile against his lips, raising your arms as he pulls your shirt over your head. His lips are back on your in an instant, trailing down your neck to your chest. He nips and sucks at the exposed parts of your chest, and you tilt your head back to give him more access, one hand traveling to the back of his head.

“Please.” you manage to get out through pants, and that’s all he needs to haphazardly guide you down the hall to his bedroom. You bump into a few things on the way, but as soon as he has you sprawled out on his bed, everything else in the world is forgotten.

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 18 days ago

Text

Remember That

Title: Remember That

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 966

Warnings: Fluff, sprained wrist, and mentions of guns, bullets, and getting shot

Prompt: "I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me." from this list

Summary: You find Steve after he saves you in the field.

A/N: This is just a quick little drabble I wrote on my phone before bed. It has not been edited. As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. I hope you enjoy!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me,” you say, and you carefully place the mug of tea on the corner of Steve’s desk. Taking a step back, you watch in silence as he stares at the mug, then reaches out to move it to the coaster on his right.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. I could’ve ended up in the medbay for at least a week, maybe more,” you argue. Dr. Cho had told you that as she’d wrapped up your sprained wrist. You’d all but ran from the infirmary as soon as she was done, desperate to thank Steve now that the gravity of his rescue had set it, but by the time you’d made it to the briefing room, he’d left. Natasha had suggested you check his room. She’d also suggested the tea, which you’d found tucked away on the top shelf, out of reach of greedy hands and mouths.

“I got lucky,” Steve says back, pulling you back to the present.

You tuck your hands into the front pocket of your sweatshirt and fiddle with your phone. The wrap around your wrist makes your sleeve bulky, but thankfully, the pain medicine Dr. Cho gave you has made the incessant ache go away. Steve goes back to signing off on printed mission reports when you don’t reply, and you stand there awkwardly between the side of his desk and the doorway for a few long moments until you work up the nerve to say,

“Bucky could’ve made the shot from the rooftop. You didn’t have to push me out of the way.”

His hand stalls, pushing the pen harder into the paper at the end of an “e” before he carefully sets it down beside the stack of reports.

“He would’ve been able to shoot him with no problem,” you reiterate. “I’m sure he would’ve been happy to, all things considered. The guy was clearly with HYDRA, even if he never admitted to it.”

“Just because he can doesn’t mean he should,” Steve answers.

“I could say the same thing to you.”

He doesn’t answer. He takes a sip of the tea and you pull your hands from the pocket to cross your arms over your chest.

“Steve.”

“Y/N.”

You sigh and drop your hands back down to your sides. “Am I seriously going to have to ask?”

“Ask what?” He knows what you want to know; he’s playing dumb, and it’s exasperating.

“Why did you jump in front of a moving bullet to push me out of the way?” You’re not exactly meaning to shout, but you do, and heat rushes to your cheeks. Sam had been teaching Wanda how to play euchre in the common area when you’d walked through on your way to Steve’s room, and there’s no doubt they’ve heard you.

Steve has one hand on the mug handle and the other flat on the desk. He stares at the pencil cup tucked up against the wall, then looks up at you.

You’re expecting anger in his eyes, directed at you for being foolish enough not to check for enemies, or maybe directed toward the HYDRA agents you and the rest of the team took down at the warehouse earlier. Instead of anger, however, there’s fear. It makes your stomach twist.

“I couldn’t let him shoot you,” Steve quietly admits. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d been shot.”

You swallow thickly and glance down at the reports, finding it difficult to hold his gaze while he’s looking at you like that.

“It’s an occupational hazard, Steve. Everyone gets shot eventually.”

“But not you. I can’t let it be you that’s shot. Never,” he says.

“Why?” You look back at him, timid under his unwavering gaze. “What do you mean you can’t let it be me?”

“Because I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been for years.”

You stare at him, your mouth dropping open slightly. “You’re… in love with me?”

His cheeks are tinged with pink, as are his ears, but he doesn’t look away. The fear in his eyes is gone now, replaced with an affection you’ve seen on Tony’s face when he watches Pepper dote over Peter and MJ, or Vision’s face while he dutifully hands Wanda ingredients whenever she cooks for the group. It’s love, and there’s no way you could question it.

“I’m in love with you too,” you tell him. “But I don’t know for how long.”

“What do you mean?” He swivels the desk chair so he’s facing you, his legs no longer under the desk. You realize that he hasn’t stripped out of his tactical suit, only pushed it down to his hips to reveal his standard white tee.

“I don’t think I realized I really had feelings for you until earlier this year, when we had to speak at that conference about the emergency evacuation we helped with for that hurricane.”

Steve nods. “I remember. You wore that shirt you like, the one that you found on sale.”

“You remember that?”

He nods.

“How? I mean, I don’t even remember that kind of stuff about my own clothes half the time!” You laugh, leaning against the wall and smiling down at him. Steve shifts to rest his arm on the desk.

“Eidetic memory,” he explains. “And also, it’s you. I remember everything about you.”

That makes your cheeks heat up and you grin wider, ducking your head to try and hide it. You feel so foolish, but it’s a strangely good feeling.

“Thank you for the tea. It’s my favorite kind.”

You look up at him, and when you see his smile, you don’t bother to hide yours any longer. “I’ll remember that for next time,” you promise, and you mean it.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

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eccentricallygothic · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing: Gryffindor!Steve Rogers | Slytherin!Reader.

Warning(s): Rough p-in-v, d/s dynamics, unprotected sex, doggy style, name calling, spanking, hate sex vibes, daddy kink, degradation, hair pulling, meanie Steve but we love it, allusion to choking.

What happens when a dominant Gryffindor and a relatively submissive Slytherin come together?

While the answer could be one of many things and could range from one extreme to the other, brutal sex qualifies as a fact.

And as Y/n was being obliterated into one of the heavy wooden desks of Classroom 3C, she would agree.

Her chin was propped against the table as she was forced to stare ahead, arms locked together on the small of her back and being held in place by the primary subject of all her ire and well guised fancy as he pounded his cock balls deep into her hot cavern with each thrust.

The Slytherin's teeth chattered against the wand of her Gryffindor owner, having been ordered to keep it there until he was done venting his frustration out on her weeping pussy that clenched every time their skins collided into contact.

It was Steve's way of getting her to keep her brat mouth shut during a lesson in discipline, as he liked to call it. And it was also a convenient excuse to get her in even more trouble if the wand fell out of her mouth regardless of the reason.

The girl's nostrils were flared, cheeks flushed and eyes teary as she struggled to breathe normal, the welts that her lover had left on her delicate swells with his wand that possessed an unforgiving sturdiness to it pressing against the cold wood she was bent over, the sound of squelches of flesh violating flesh and squeaking of skin sliding over the desktop loud in the large room.

"Such a sly little slut, aren't you, baby?" Steve grunted as he connected his palm to one of her nether cheeks harshly. "Using those pretty little tits to distract her Daddy" now he snatched a handful of her hair in his hand and pulled until her body curved backwards and lifted off the desk. "Just so inherently wicked, aren't we?" His voice was a snarl.

Competition was competition.

Y/n refused to lose a game of Quidditch just because her lover was among the competitors.

It was not her fault if Steve -much typical to his house, if she did say so- was too weak to resist and look away.

But apparently, the Gryffindor captain did not share the Slytherin seeker's thoughts on the matter.

The girl wanted to shoot back an insult, she really did. But the wand between her teeth and memories of what happened when she let it fall during these sessions forced her to keep her words to herself and the wand in place.

"That's right, keep that bratty little cocksucker quiet" letting go of her hair to allow her to collapse back over the desk, Steve felt sweat broke out on his temples when he felt his high nearing, aware that his lover was close as well due to how her slit was expanding to greedily accommodate him for the cumulation of as much pleasure as possible.

"Dirty fuckin' girl, flaunting that ass all over the field for everyone to see" Y/n's eyes fluttered close as he gave two spanks to each of her cheeks in delayed succession, hitting her spongy bundle of sensitive nerves with each thrust. "Is that a common practice in your silly little house, huh baby? Acting like cockstarved little whores?" Her toes curled and eyes clenched shut as her orgasm vibrated through her being, the intensity causing vertigo in her ears and hypothermia within her feet that dangled above the ground due to her position under him.

The tension in the Slytherin's chest grew now, and then it was too much to bear. Arching her back to withstand the force of her strong orgasm, Y/n let herself get carried away by the powerful orgasm and– alas!

Steve's wand rolled out from between her teeth and slipped past her lips, landing on the flat desktop with devastatingly heavy clicks as it bounced in its place.

"Cumming without my permission and letting the wand fall…" Steve tutted as he thrusted into her harder, yanking her up by the hold he had on her arms. "Oh, baby. What am I going to do with you?" He whispered in her ear as he wrapped his free hand around her throat once she was up and trembling against his chest.

MASTERLIST

As a Slytherin who has a bittersweet relationship with Steve, smash.

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x plus size reader #gryffindor x slytherin #hogwarts smut #harry potter smut #kais rambles

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year ago

Text

Don't Take Your Eyes Off It

Title: Don’t Take Your Eyes Off It

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and you have a surprise for Steve!

Warnings: Daddy kink, pet name (Sweets), praise kink (slightly), ass worship, butt plug, anal fingering, first time *romantic* anal, creampie

A/N: Based on this poll, Steve Rogers won. Submission for @the-slumberparty’s Eight Types of Love February 2024 Sleepover Challenge (Eros-sexual passion). Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Spotify Playlist

My Masterlist

His fingers glide across the skin of your shoulder blade as sunlight cascades over your beautiful brown skin while you sleep on your stomach. He marvels at how you seem to glow in the rays of the morning sun. Leaning in, he places a chaste kiss on your lips, trying his best to wake you gently.

You grumble, the weight of his kiss just enough to pull you from a deep slumber.

“What was that, Sweets?” Steve’s sultry baritone invades your consciousness and you open your eyes.

“I said, ‘five more minutes’,” you plead, pouting up at Steve and hoping he would give you a break after seeing your tired eyes.

No such luck.

“Nice try, Sweets. You know what today is, right?” he asks, peppering kisses to the top of your bonnet-covered hair.

“It’s...Wednesday?” you guess, trying your best to get back to REM sleep.

“Yes, technically, it is Wednesday. It’s also…” he trails off, waiting for the pieces to click into place in your mind.

You lift your head, locking eyes with Steve. For three whole seconds, you just look at him with a confused expression on your face until it hits you. “It’s Valentine’s Day!” you chuckle, and playfully swat at him.

“Now, she’s cooking with gas. I thought it was gonna take you all day to figure it out,” he jokes, laughing as you roll your eyes at him.

You turn around in bed and swing your legs over the edge. Reaching up to untie your hair, your braids cascade down your back. Peeking over your shoulder, you catch Steve watching you while one of his hands runs through his golden tresses.

“Caught ya looking, Daddy,” you tease before standing and walking around the bed to his side. He reaches out to touch you, but you pull back at the last second. “Unh-uh! Not until tonight. I got something special planned for you.”

“Something special, huh? Well, I can’t wait. But I guess I will have to, won’t I?” he guesses, standing up from the bed to tower over you. He lifts his hands in surrender after you point a manicured finger at him. “Hands to myself, I promise. For now,” he flirts, walking around you to go into the bathroom to shower.

While Steve is in the shower, you mentally run down your checklist of things for tonight. Your new pink glass buttplug, check! New red lace lingerie, check! You had everything planned down to the last detail and you were very excited to see Steve’s reaction. Now, all that was left was to get everything ready while Steve was away for the day.

Steve comes back to your darkened apartment that night, surprised to see a trail of red rose petals and vanilla-scented tea lights leading him to the bedroom. He stoops down to grab the card that was left near the door.

‘Daddy,

Come and unwrap your present.

-Sweets’

Making his way along the petaled path, he reaches your slightly ajar bedroom door. Pushing it open, he is greeted by you kneeling in the center of the bed. A red rose hairclip holds the right side of your braids back, and the red lace bodysuit you wear hugs all of your curves perfectly.

You take in the way Steve looks at you like you hung the moon. His ocean eyes darken as he takes in your scent, your favorite perfume lingering in the air.

“Hi, Daddy. Happy Valentine’s Day,” you hum, making your way to where Steve stands at the foot of the bed. “Why don’t you join me? You can put these big, strong hands to use,” you slide your arms around his neck and instinctually, his hands go to your waist.

Leaning down to claim your lips, he doesn’t hold back teasing his tongue along the seam of your mouth. Once you let him in, he takes control of the kiss. Swallowing down your whimpers and moans, he cups the back of your head and nibbles your bottom lip.

Breaking the kiss, he laughs lowly when you try and follow his lips. “I think I was promised a gift, Sweets. Now, what might that be?” he muses, his fingertips moving along the red lace until he comes upon a pebbled nipple.

You take his hand and guide it to where the gusset of your bodysuit would be, now drenched with your slick. You nod and he explores your soft folds through the crotchless lace. He knows how to play you like a damn fiddle. Gathering your moisture and applying just the right amount of pressure to your bundle of nerves.

Within moments, he has your legs weak while he gives your clit some much-needed attention. His other hand goes to your chin so that you look up at him as he brings you over the edge. You fight to keep your eyes open as the chains of orgasm are broken, your throbbing pussy creaming his hand.

“Such a good girl for me. God, you’re perfect, Sweets,” he praises, still unaware of what you have in store for him as he takes off his tie and goes to unbutton his shirt.

“Daddy, I have a surprise for you. I’ve been working all day long on it,” you chime in, biting your lip as you cup Steve’s erection through his slacks.

“You go ahead and show me that surprise, now,” he encourages, watching intently as you turn around and present yourself to him with your ass in the air. His hand goes to your hip, slowly moving toward your ample backside. Groping your ass, he finds something he had hinted at only weeks ago. “Oh, fuck. Look at this adorable little plug. Have you been wearing this all day, Sweets?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ve been stretched around it all day long. I wanted you to have something no one has had before. It’s all yours,” you say, wiggling your hips to show off your toy.

“You are such a good girl for wearing it all day,” he murmurs, taking the lube that was delicately placed on the bed earlier by you. Dripping the liquid between your cheeks, he spreads it generously around your plump globes. He lays a few slaps to each cheek and moves some of the lube between your cheeks to tease the toy in and out of you slightly.

“Daddy, please,” you beg, growing ever so impatient now that Steve is teasing you.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Sweets. Let’s just get this pretty plug out of here,” he purrs, pulling out the toy and watching as your hole tightens up a bit. He uses one finger to explore you, graduating to two and three fingers when you take him in so well. Soon, the wet squelch of lube as he fingers you is the loudest sound in the room, even over your moans.

With three fingers inside you, Steve uses the other hand to unzip his pants. Pulling out his red, weeping dick, he squeezes the base and coats it in the excess lube that has accumulated. Lining up to your opening, he pushes in slowly until you engulf his tip. The hard part is over as he slides into the hilt.

He waits until you start to wriggle under his hands to begin a languid pace, slow as molasses in January. Your hand snakes down to your forgotten pussy, shiny and slick with a mixture of your arousal and lubricant. Your fingers stimulate your clit as Steve takes you apart from the inside.

You’ve never felt so fully taken before, the stretch of his massive member adding to the sacred friction. As soon as your fingers take you over the edge, you notice how intense this orgasm is. You moan into the bedsheets as your cunt shudders and your asshole clamps down around Steve.

“Fuuuuuck, good girl. That felt so fucking good, Sweets. Don’t think I can last much longer with you coming so hard on my dick like that,” he ponders aloud, quickening his pace to chase his release.

As he pounds into you from behind, he reaches around to finger your pussy while his palm rubs your sweet spot. When he can sense you getting closer and closer to the edge, he pulls his fingers from inside you and plays with your clit.

“Be my good girl and cum with me, Sweets. Fuck, I can feel it right now. You ready for it baby?” he persuades, fucking into you while you moan non-stop.

“Yes, please. I’m ready for your cum, Daddy,” you cry out, your climax pulling you over the edge, tumbling straight into Steve’s release. You can feel every spurt of spunk painting your delicate inner walls while he throbs inside you.

Coming down, he lets his deflating length slip out and directs you to lie down before climbing on the bed next to you. Wrapping you up in his arms, he kisses your forehead and isn’t surprised when he soon hears the soft snores escaping you.

He’s more than content to wait to give you his gift. He smiles, remembering the velvet box in his suit jacket pocket in the other room. He can wait a bit longer to hear you say yes.

A/N: Alright, well, I haven’t written for Steve Rogers in over 12 years. I hope this was good. I would love to hear what y’all think. The title is taken from ‘Rocket’ by Beyoncé.

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whereforarthur · 7 months ago

Text

Fate is in The Stars

A/N: First Request? Chris MD x Plus Size Reader

Pairing: Chris MD x Plus Size Reader Summary: Chance encounter at an Arthur Hill concert leads to more than what the reader expected. Word Count: 4.6k Rating: PG-13 Category: Fluff with some impure thoughts

*****

The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.

-Oscar Wilde

"I can't believe we're actually here!" Y/n squealed into the night, her excitement barely contained by the buzzing crowd around them.

"I know, right?" her friend Rachel shouted back, her voice lost in the sea of chatter and anticipation. They had been waiting for this moment for months, ever since the Arthur Hill concert tickets went on sale. Y/n had scored two VIP passes after hours of refreshing her browser, and Rachel had promised to be her plus one.

The lights dimmed, and the murmur of the crowd grew to a deafening roar. Y/n felt her heart race as the stage lit up, revealing Arthur Hill and his band, their silhouettes stark against the brightness. The music started, a deep bass that seemed to resonate in her very bones, and Rachel grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to the barricade. They were so close, Y/n could feel the heat from the lights and the vibration of the music in her chest.

And then, it began. The opening notes of "Bride and the Gloom" filled the stadium, and Y/n's eyes grew wide. This was it, the moment she had been waiting for. Her favorite song, live. She had listened to it on repeat for weeks, memorizing every lyric, every beat, every breath Arthur took in the recording. Now, she was experiencing it in real life, and it was nothing short of magical. Rachel squeezed her hand, her eyes shining with excitement as the band hit the chorus, and the crowd around them sang along. Y/n's voice was lost in the sea of sound, but she didn't care.

We'll raise a glass to the past, it's the bride and the gloom

There's nothing I couldn't do

It's just the bride and the gloom

You know that ring doesn't suit

It’s just the bride and the...

But amidst the throng of adoring fans, there was one set of eyes that kept finding hers. Chris MD, a popular YouTuber and a close friend of Arthur Hill, was standing off to the side of the stage, watching the performance with an intensity that seemed almost too focused for someone who had probably seen this show dozens of times. He was always mocked about his height, but taller than her, with a mop of unruly curls and a boyish smile that had won millions of hearts online. His eyes, a piercing blue, remained locked on Y/n as she danced, her body moving in time with the music, her hair a wild mess around her face. Rachel noticed the lingering gaze and nudged her. "Look," she shouted, pointing discreetly.

Y/n's cheeks flushed as she met Chris's gaze, a mix of excitement and embarrassment flooding her. She had always enjoyed his videos, his sense of humor and the way he could make even the most mundane moments seem interesting. But here he was, watching her, and she had no idea why. She tried to play it cool, focusing back on the stage, but her heart was racing in a way that the music couldn't explain away. Rachel looked at her with a knowing smile, mouthing, "Oh my God!" and fanning herself dramatically.

Chris's eyes never left her, and Y/n felt a strange thrill at being the center of his attention. She danced with more abandon, letting the music take over. Every time she glanced his way, his smile grew a little wider, his eyes a little brighter. It was like he was seeing something in her that she hadn't even known was there. The concert was already a night to remember, but this... this was something else entirely.

As the music grew more intense, so did the way Chris studied her. He couldn't keep his eyes off her figure, especially her thighs, which seemed to have a rhythm of their own as they moved to the beat. She had always been self-conscious about her size, but under his gaze, she felt a confidence she hadn't known before. The lyrics of the songs seemed to resonate with her in a new way, and she felt like Arthur Hill was singing directly to her. Or maybe it was just the energy of the crowd and the way the lights painted her in a glow.

Chris's eyes lingered on the way her thighs curved and flexed as she danced, a hypnotic sight that drew him in even more. Y/n had never felt so alive, so seen. Rachel gave her a look that was equal parts shock and envy, whispering in her ear, "You're killing it, girl!" But Y/n barely heard her over the pounding bass and the rush of blood in her ears. She was lost in the music, in the moment, in the undeniable connection she felt with Chris had suddenly made her the star of this show.

The second song of the night began, a slower, more intimate piece that had the entire stadium swaying in unison. Y/n's movements matched the tempo, her thighs moving in a gentle, seductive rhythm that seemed to speak directly to Chris. He leaned against the barricade, his eyes never leaving her, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. It was as if the music had cast a spell over them, and she was the only one who knew the secret. Rachel leaned closer, her eyes wide with excitement. "Do you see that?" she shouted, nodding towards Chris. "He's totally into you!"

Y/n felt a thrill run down her spine. She had always admired Chris for his positive body image advocacy online, for the way he never shied away from sharing his own insecurities. Now, she realized, he was looking at her the same way he looked at every person he met in his videos—like she was important, like she mattered. With a newfound boldness, she decided to lean into it, her hips moving in a way that made Rachel gasp.

The chorus hit, and Arthur's voice soared through the speakers. The lights painted the crowd in a kaleidoscope of colors, and Y/n felt like she was floating. Rachel was still shouting in her ear, but she couldn't hear the words over the music and the pounding of her heart. All she knew was that Chris's gaze was like a warm embrace, holding her tighter than any fan's adoration ever had.

Chris's inner thoughts were a whirlwind of disbelief and fascination. He had seen thousands of fans at concerts before, but something about her was different. Her passion, her confidence, the way she moved—it was mesmerizing. He had always been drawn to plus-size women, their curves a celebration of life and beauty that he felt was often overlooked. But it was more than just her body that captivated him. It was her spirit, the way she threw herself into the music without a care for what anyone else thought. He had never seen someone so utterly free.

The setlist moved on, but Chris's gaze remained steadfastly on Y/n. He was torn between watching the performance and watching her. The way her face lit up with every beat, the way she sang along to every word, the way she was fully present in the moment—it was like nothing he had ever experienced. He found himself tapping his foot along with her, his own passion for the music reignited by her infectious energy.

George, nudged him playfully. "You're supposed to be watching the show, not ogling the fans," he teased, his voice carrying over the music.

Chris dragged his eyes away from Y/n for a moment, a sheepish grin crossing his face. "I know, but look at her, George," he said, pointing her out. "She's incredible."

George followed his gaze, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Yeah, she's got something," he admitted. "You should go say hi after the show."

Chris nodded, his heart racing at the thought. He had never been one to shy away from talking to fans, but this was different. This was more than just a casual meet-and-greet. This was… something he couldn't quite put his finger on. But he knew he had to find out.

*****

The concert ended in a flurry of applause and cheers, the final notes of "You're Not a God" echoing through the stadium. Y/n's heart sank a little as the lights came up and reality set back in. Rachel looked at her with a mischievous smile. "We get to go backstage now," she said, nudging her gently. "You can't just leave without saying hello to your new fan club president."

They made their way through the crowd, their VIP passes flashing like beacons in the dim light. Backstage was a whirlwind of activity, with roadies rushing to pack up equipment and band members signing autographs for eager fans. Rachel grabbed her arm and steered her through the chaos, her excitement palpable. "Come on, let's find Arthur!" she exclaimed.

But it was Chris that Y/n's eyes searched for, her heart racing at the thought of seeing him again. And there he was, standing near the stage entrance, surrounded by his friends. Rachel rolled her eyes playfully. "Looks like someone's more interested in the friend, than the artist himself," she teased.

Their eyes met once more, and Y/n felt her cheeks heat up. Rachel pushed her gently. "Go on," she whispered. "I'll grab us some water."

Chris's heart skipped a beat as he watched her approach, her eyes shy but determined. He felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves, his mind racing with thoughts. What was it about her that had made him unable to look away? Was it her confidence, her beauty, or the way she owned the space around her? He knew he had to talk to her, to find out what made her light shine so brightly in a sea of faces.

He straightened up, his hand reaching out to push his hair back from his face, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he had. His mind was racing with what to say, how to start a conversation without seeming like a creep. He had talked to countless fans before, but this was different. He didn't just want a selfie or a story for his next video; he wanted to know her, to understand the person behind the mesmerizing dance moves.

As she drew closer, the cacophony of the backstage area seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. She was even more stunning up close, her eyes sparkling with the same excitement he had seen from afar. He felt like he was seeing her for the first time, even though he had watched her dance for almost the entire concert. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

"Hey," he finally managed to say, his voice a little hoarse. Y/n blushed and offered a tentative smile, her eyes searching his. She had never expected to be the object of his attention, especially not in the midst of the chaos that was a backstage meet-and-greet. "I'm Chris," he said, extending his hand. "Chris MD."

Her hand was small in his, but it was warm and firm. "I know," she replied, her voice a little shaky. "I'm Y/n."

Chris's eyes flickered down to her thighs again, tracing the curves that had captured his attention from the moment he first saw her. They were like sculpted waves, rolling and crashing with every step she took, a testament to the strength and grace that lay beneath. He felt a jolt of something he hadn't expected—desire, perhaps?—and quickly schooled his features into a friendly smile. "Your dance moves are incredible," he said, hoping his voice didn't betray the tumult of his thoughts.

Y/n blushed even deeper, her cheeks a rosy hue that contrasted with her dark hair. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I've always loved to dance."

Chris felt a pang of regret for making her feel self-conscious. He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable. "You should," he said gently, lifting her chin so she met his gaze again. "You have a beautiful energy."

Y/n's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of mockery or insincerity, but all she found was genuine admiration. She took a deep breath, letting his compliment wash over her. "Thank you," she said, her voice stronger this time. "Your videos are amazing too. You make me laugh, even on my worst days."

Chris's smile grew wider, his nerves dissipating as they talked. "That's what I aim for," he said, pleased that she enjoyed his content. They talked about their favorite Arthur Hill songs, their shared love for the band's raw emotion and poetic lyrics. Rachel hovered nearby, sipping her water and watching the exchange with a knowing smile. Y/n felt a strange sense of comfort with Chris, as if she had known him for years rather than just moments.

As the backstage area began to clear, George poked his head out from the dressing room. "Chris, mate, we've got to get going," he called over the din. "Arthur's waiting."

Chris nodded, reluctant to tear his gaze away from Y/n. "I'll be there in a sec," he shouted back, not taking his eyes off her. "I just need to, uh, say goodbye to a fan."

Y/n's heart dropped at the word "fan." It was a stark reminder of the divide between them—the one who was watched and the one who watched. She felt her cheeks heat up, the sudden weight of his celebrity status making her self-conscious. Was she just another face in the crowd to him? Just another person to entertain and forget?

But Chris's gaze was unwavering, his smile never dimming. "I'd love to get to know you better," he said, leaning in slightly. "Maybe grab a coffee or something?"

Y/n's eyes widened, the question hanging in the air like a confetti of hope. She nodded, unable to believe her luck. "Yeah," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper. "That would be amazing."

They exchanged numbers, the digits feeling like a secret handshake that admitted her into an exclusive club. Rachel shot her a thumbs up from across the room, her grin splitting her face as she mouthed, "Told you!"

The days that followed were a blur of excitement and nerves. Y/n replayed their conversation in her head on repeat, dissecting every word, every smile, every look. She had never been on a date with someone like Chris—someone who saw her as more than just a fan, more than just a body. Rachel was a flurry of questions and advice, her enthusiasm only fueling Y/n's butterflies.

Chris, on the other hand, couldn't get Y/n's thighs out of his mind. It wasn't just their beauty that captivated him; it was the power they held, the way they moved with such confidence and grace. He found himself pausing during his workouts to imagine her dancing, the way her body flowed with the music. He knew he had to see her again, to find out if the connection he felt was as strong offstage as it was in the spotlight.

*****

The days dragged on, filled with anticipation for their coffee date. Chris's schedule was hectic, but he made sure to clear his calendar for her. He wanted to show her that she was more than just a pretty face in the crowd; she was someone he truly cared about getting to know.

Finally, the day arrived. Y/n had spent hours picking out the perfect outfit—something that made her feel confident, but not like she was trying too hard. Rachel had insisted on helping, and together they settled on a cute dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Y/n checked herself in the mirror one last time before leaving, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

They agreed to meet at a quaint little café downtown, a place that was usually quiet enough to have a good conversation without being disturbed by fans coming up to him asking for pictures. Rachel had given her a pep talk on the way there, reminding her to just be herself. "You're already amazing," she had said. "Don't let nerves get in the way."

Chris was already there when Y/n arrived, sitting at a small table by the window. He looked up as she approached, a genuine smile lighting up his face. She felt her heart stutter at the sight of him, looking even more handsome than he did at the concert. He stood up, pulling out a chair for her, and she couldn't help but feel like a celebrity herself.

The conversation flowed easily as they sat down, the warmth of his gaze making her feel seen in a way she hadn't in a long time. They talked about their favorite concerts, shared stories of their past, and even touched on their hopes and fears. Y/n found herself opening up to him in a way she rarely did with others, her nerves slowly dissipating with each shared laugh.

Chris listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers. He had never felt this drawn to someone he had just met. Her passion for life, her honesty, and the way she talked about her love for music made him feel alive in a way that his career had never managed to do.

He took a sip of his tea, his eyes flicking down to her thighs, which were barely covered by the hem of her dress. He couldn't help but drink in the sight of them, the way they had at the concert. They were like a piece of art, a sculpture that had been crafted by the gods themselves. He felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch them, to feel the warmth and strength that emanated from her.

Y/n caught his gaze and felt a thrill run through her. She had never felt so desired, so appreciated for just being herself. She had always felt like she had to hide her body, to make it smaller, to make it fit in. But with Chris, she felt like she could be herself, and he would only love her more for it.

"So, what do you do when you're not at concerts?" she asked, eager to learn more about the man behind the camera.

Chris leaned back in his chair, his gaze still lingering on her thighs before returning to her face. "I make videos, mostly about my life, my friends, and our adventures. But I also talk about important stuff, like body positivity and mental health."

Y/n's eyes lit up. "Oh, I've seen some of those! They're so inspiring."

Chris chuckled, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Thanks," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But it wasn't always easy. You know, being a short guy in a world that worships height can be tough." He took a deep breath, his eyes dropping to his plate. "And the ear pinning… well, that was just another thing that set me apart."

Y/n nodded, her heart going out to him. "I've had my share of teasing too," she said softly. "For being plus size."

Chris's eyes met hers, filled with understanding. "It's not fun, is it?" he said. "But you know what? I've learned to embrace it. My height, my ears—it's all part of who I am. And if people can't handle that, then they're not worth my time."

Y/n felt a surge of admiration for him. It was easy to talk about body positivity from behind a screen, but to live it so openly was something else entirely. "You're right," she said firmly. "I've been trying to do the same. It's not always easy, but when you find someone who appreciates you for who you are…" She trailed off, her cheeks heating up.

Chris leaned in, his eyes earnest. "You're absolutely beautiful, Y/n. Your confidence on the dance floor was… captivating."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush at the compliment. She had never been one to take them easily, especially from someone as famous as Chris. "Thank you," she murmured, playing with the edge of her napkin.

*****

Chris reached out, his hand brushing against her thigh. It was a small, almost unnoticeable gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her body. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were tracing the lines of a map he had studied for years but never dared to touch. She looked up at him, surprised, but he just smiled, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat as his hand lingered there, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of her dress. It was a simple touch, but it spoke volumes. It said, "I see you. I want you." It was a declaration of attraction that was as subtle as it was powerful. Rachel's words echoed in her mind: "You're killing it, girl." Maybe, just maybe, Rachel had been right.

Chris's thumb traced the curve of her thigh, the pad of his finger grazing the soft skin. The sensation sent shivers up her spine, and she had to resist the urge to lean into his touch. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of discomfort, but all he found was a mix of surprise and arousal. He gave her a questioning look, and she nodded almost imperceptibly, giving him the green light to continue.

The café around them faded away as they sat there, the only sound the clinking of cups and the low murmur of other conversations. The tension between them grew with each passing moment, a palpable force that seemed to thicken the air. Y/n felt like she was in a dream, her heart racing and her breath shallow. She had never felt so desired, so alive.

Chris's hand moved higher, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. The fabric of her dress was thin, offering little resistance to his touch. She could feel his breath on her neck, warm and sweet like the scent of fresh tea. He leaned in closer, his lips a whisper away from her ear. "Your confidence is intoxicating," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in her very soul.

Y/n felt a thrill run through her as his words washed over her. She had never been the type to attract guys like Chris, not in her wildest dreams. But here he was, touching her, talking to her like she was someone special. She swallowed hard, her heart racing. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own pulse.

Chris leaned in even closer, his breath hot against her neck. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/n nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Of course," she breathed.

Chris leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate through her very bones. "I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the concert," he confessed, his eyes lingering on her thighs. "The way you danced, the confidence you had—it was like nothing I've ever seen before."

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of excitement and nerves. She had always been self-conscious about her size, but with Chris, she felt like she could be herself. "Really?" she asked, her voice a little breathless.

Chris nodded, his eyes dark with desire. "Everytime I close my eyes, I see you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The way you moved to the music, the way your thighs looked in the lights… it was like watching poetry in motion."

Y/n's breath hitched at his words, her heart racing. She had never felt so desired, so appreciated for her body. Rachel's voice echoed in her mind, urging her to live in the moment. She leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his. "You can tell me more," she whispered, her voice thick with anticipation.

Chris took a deep breath, his hand still resting gently on her thigh. He could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress, and he knew he had to be careful. He didn't want to scare her off, but the attraction was too strong to ignore. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's eyes widened, and she felt a jolt of excitement run through her. She had never been asked so directly, so sincerely. She searched his eyes for any hint of doubt, but all she found was a raw, unfiltered want. She nodded, her voice a soft murmur. "Yes."

Chris leaned in, closing the gap between them. His eyes never left hers as their lips met, a gentle pressure that grew more insistent with each passing second. It was a kiss that spoke of desire and admiration, of the connection that had sparked between them in the chaos of the concert. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, her body responding to the touch she had craved.

The kiss deepened, their tongues dancing together in a silent symphony of passion. Y/n felt her body come alive under his touch, her curves pressing against him as he pulled her closer. The café around them faded into the background, the only reality the warmth of his embrace and the sweet taste of his lips. Rachel's words of encouragement from earlier in the night seemed like a distant echo, but they had been right. This was the start of something she had never dared to dream of.

Chris's hand slid further up her thigh, his grip firm but gentle. He could feel her tremble with each touch, her breath hitching as his fingers traced patterns on her skin. He broke the kiss, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was a reflection of his own desire, a spark that had been lit and was now threatening to consume them both.

"I want you," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. Y/n's heart raced in response, her body aching for more of his touch. She nodded, unable to find the words to express the intensity of the emotions swirling within her.

Chris took her hand, leading her out of the café into the cool night air. The city lights twinkled around them, a stark contrast to the heat building between their bodies. They walked in silence, the anticipation of what was to come thick and heavy. Y/n could feel the eyes of passersby on them, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the man beside her, the one who had seen her in a way no one else had.

The date had been nothing short of magical, a whirlwind of laughter and connection that had left her feeling like she was floating. As they approached her apartment, she knew that this night was only the beginning of something beautiful. Rachel's words from earlier played on repeat in her mind, and she realized that her friend had been right all along.

Chris stopped at her door, his hand still clutching hers tightly. "I had an amazing time," he said, his eyes searching hers. "I don't want this to end."

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest, her heart racing. "Me neither," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "This was just the beginning."

#chris md #chrismd #chrismd x reader #plus size reader #plus size representation #fluff #imagines

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chrisevansonly · 2 years ago

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Uhhh hiii!!!🥺

Can we get some fluff protective bf Chris when you (the reader) hurts yourself after Chris scared you? (Nothing big just like a scratch or sprain?)🥺🥺🥺

Just A Bruise

pairing: chris evans x female reader

summary: prank wars are usually fun and games until someone ends up with a little bump…

warnings: none really, minor injury, very sweet chris

a/n: hi lovely anon, thank you for requesting!! i’m getting back into my inbox finally, i know i’ve been slacking with that recently, so I apologize! i’m going to try and work through that, and I might do a harry blurb to this too cause i found this request v sweet<3

Anyone that knew Chris knew he was an avid prankster from videos with his brother, to his friends and other family members, so naturally you were more than aware that he would more than likely get you in on his antics. You were quite a calm person, usually sticking to yourself and your work most days, Chris always loving that softness you added to your shared home, but deep down he loved how easy it was to scare the absolute shit out of you.

There were few times where you weren’t having it, whether it be after a bad day or if you were under stress with a deadline for work, but today probably topped the times he probably should not have scared you.

He was lucky you were as forgiving as you were.

After finishing up some much needed files before you took 3 weeks vacation to travel some of Europe with Chris and his family. In retrospect you should have realized your missing boyfriend was up to something when the house was too quiet, because although there was always a certain sombreness to the house, Chris still managed to fill it with noise.

“Chris?”

Huffing softly you walked down the stairs and moved towards the living room, he was still nowhere to be found, up until you turned past the couch and he jumped out from behind it yelling

“Boo!”

He laughed as you screamed, a hand coming up to your chest but that soon stopped after you tripped backwards on the corner of the love seat and landed straight on your hip, hitting the corner of the coffee table

“ow ow ow”

You lay flat on the floor a mixture of laughing and crying because honestly you were in some pain

“Fuck..honey-y/n you okay?”

“I hate you.”

He knew you were joking but he couldn’t help but kneel next to you, his hands holding your face gently as he wiped some of the tears away

“I’m so sorry baby, really are you okay?”

Blinking up at him you nodded

“My hip hurts, but i’m fine”

Chris helped you up his features full of regret as he watched you wince, his hand moving to check your hip noting the deep black and purple bruise that was beginning to form

“Here, sit on the couch i’ll get you some ice”

“Chris i’m-”

“Please..”

You could see how bad he felt, and despite it being an accident you did as he told, settling yourself down onto the couch waiting for him to bring you some ice. Moments later he’d brought over some water, an ice pack and a few snacks for you

“Here…got some snacks, water and some ice for your hip”

You smiled patting the spot next to you

“Thank you my love, it was an accident you know, I forgive you”

“I still hurt you”

Letting out a quiet laugh you leaned over to press a kiss to his cheeks

“Chris baby, I love you, it was an accident, maybe let’s take a break from the pranks…at least until my hip isn’t falling off?”

That got a laugh out of Chris which made you feel a bit better knowing he really did feel bad for hurting you

“I love you too, I can do that..no more pranks”

Did you really think he’d be able to hold off on the no pranking rule until your hip felt better? No, but you had some of your own tricks up your sleeve, and maybe the hurt hip would come in handy more than you thought it would.

#chris evans #chris evans imagines #chris evans x fluff #chris evans x wife reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #chris evans x wife!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x midsizereader #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans fan fiction #rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks

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kleo16xoxo · 1 year ago

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Looking within

Chris Evan x Slightly Insecure plus sized reader,

They're married and he catches her not being nice to the woman he loves

You're standing in front of a mirror naked, inspecting yourself. You can't help but notice every single one of your insecurities, before you know it a tear is streaming down your face.

You didn't notice when Chris walked in, he walks up behind you and slithers an arm round your waist, kissing you collar bone and neck.

"Mmh, hey babe" he says not noticing your tears and puffy eyes yet.

He furrows his brows in confusion "What up babe?" he turns you to face him, cupping your face and wiping your tears away "You okay?"

You nod "Yeah, yeah it's stupid I think I'm just being hormonal."

He inspects your face unbelievingly "What's wrong?" he says in a stricter tone that make your legs clench.

You know not to lie to him with that tone "I'm just a bit bloated, I think I need to start the gym up again"

You look up at him and you're surprised to see him look angry, Before you can say anything he's turning you around to face the mirror again.

He grabs your waist and starts rubbing your midsection, and his hands start to roam your body, then he's gripping your left boob and cupping your pussy.

You groaned and how firm he was gripping you, "What have I told you about speaking about my wife that way." his middle finger slow slid between your folds you moaned softly.

"I love every inch of you," he slid his finger downwards, sliding back up to your clit with your slick. "From your soft tits," He grabbed your nipple squeezing till you squirmed under his grasp. "To your massive ass," He jerked forwards showing you his impressive erection against your ass.

"How can I show you how much I love you and this perfect body?" He slowly started making firm circles on your clit while abusing your left nipple and sucking bruises all over your neck.

You moaned and arched your back, you were getting close, you could feel it and he knew it. But then he pulled away abruptly and you let out a whimper. "Kneel down and spread your legs," he growled, on instinct you got on your knees and spread your legs feeling the cold air on your wet center and looking up at him through the mirror.

He took off his shirts first, making your mouth water at the sight of his bare abdomen, then his pants and boxers, leaving himself just as naked as you. He sits behind you legs spread and caging you, before his hands are right back on you, on your chest, and between your legs pumping right back into you.

"You see how perfect this pussy is? Look at it." You look down and see the hand cupping you coming back up soaked with you. "How could you possibly think anything negative about this body?"

You're whimpering and whining, grinding into his palm. You're right on the edge when he stills his hand. You let out a sound of annoyance and disbelief "Please, please Chris" you plead.

"Shushhh, I just need to help you understand," he starts pumping his middle and index finger into you again with no mercy, the sounds of his fingers fucking you fill the room, and right when you think he's finally gonna let you cum, he takes his hands off you and you fall backward into his chest.

You let out an annoyed sign and breathed heavily "I cant anymore, I can't please." you closed your eyes, head resting on his shoulder in defeat.

You hadn't realized when he had re-adjusted and was now slipping into you "Ahhh," you let out in surprise, your eyes flying open as you watched him ease into you slowly.

"Look at that, you taking me like a good girl, soaking my dick and swallowing it whole, in that pretty little pussy." you moaned at the feel of him stretching you.

He grabbed your neck and squeezed till your breath was almost fully cut off and your eyes flew open, his thrusts got rougher and he punctuated each word with a thrust "I. Said. Look." your eyes flew too where you connected and it was too much.

"Do you see now? How perfect you are?" He asked but you kept quiet just letting out soft moans.

He slapped your clit, "Answer me," you kept quiet. He slapped your clit again "Don't make me ask again."

"Yes! Yes I see" you screamed, you were so close and he could feel you getting there.

"You cant come till you tell me just how perfect you are," He picked up his thrusts and and started slowly rubbing your clit. He was driving you crazy.

"I'm perfect!" you screamed making him smirk "Again" he groaned rubbing your clit faster "I'm perfect, I'm perfect, I'M PERFECT!" you kept blabbering till you growled out "Come all over my dick like a good fucking girl."

You came with a scream and he came right there with you, you didn't even realise you squirted all over the mirror until you opened your eyes, and let out a sigh as you saw the mix of your cum and his ooze out of you onto his dick softning.

"You did so good for me babe, so fucking good, now let's get you cleaned up" you slump back onto him and he carried you to the bathroom and started cleaning you up in the shower when he heard your stomach rumble.

He asked you what you had eaten today, it was starting to get dark out and you realised you hadn't eaten yet, he got angry all over again and fucked you against the shower till you came 2 more times.Then he ordered a pizza and made you eat half of it and a tub of icecream and then you cuddled toghether and watched a horror movie.

This is my first fan fic so....yeah

Hope you enjoy lmk if i should write more ;)

#chris evans x reader #smut fanfiction #katoptronophilia #creamp!e #plus size reader

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 8 months ago

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Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Caught In The Rain

Summary- 6.2k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Spring showers have taken over life and everyone is trying to escape the rain. Curtis stumbles upon a little stowaway while he is trying to get to his dry home where his Honey is waiting for him.

Warnings- Mentions of asshole Jake.

A/N- Hey everyone! Been a hot minute but thanks for sticking around to read their story! Special shout out to @mumbles411 and @what-is-your-plan-today for the time you all have spent editing my messes. Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics. Happy Reading! and remember reblogs and comments are so appreciated.

Chapter Twenty-Seven / Masterlist

“Fucking hell.” Curtis cursed out while the rain splattered around him, the month of April certainly proving to be wet with spring showers. He was trying to get an engine moved into the overhead shelter out of the rain with Grey and Edgar so they could at least switch out the parts without being waterlogged. The mud sloughed around them while the broken machine sluggishly made its way to the overhead. All three of them pausing from their work to look out from under the shelter’s roof. The grey skies showed no sign of the much needed sunshine.

“What was it about April showers?” Edgar asked and Curtis, thoroughly grumpy with feeling soaked through all his layers, growled out.

“Pissing me off is what it’s about. It could let up for at least a couple hours to get those parts changed.”

Grey handed over a towel to Curtis, letting him dry his face off. “I guess we could hold off till tomorrow? Maybe the weather will break.”

“Tomorrow is too late, Gilliam told us to finish this today so it can leave the yard.” Curtis sighed as he handed the towel off to Edgar, who ran it over his hair, spiking it up as he dried himself off. “So unless we wanna be here all night, let's get this done.”

Several hours and several parts later, Curtis was finally clocking out. Already he texted you that he was going to be late and that if you wanted to head back to your apartment, he understood.

You were sure to send a photo back of you lounging in his living room with a book in your lap and cup of tea in hand, saying not a chance was he getting rid of you that easily. As if he would ever want that, Curtis thought to himself.

He flicked off lights as he made his way out of the main office, the last one to leave for the day. Curtis double checked that it was all locked up before he made the run for his truck across the parking section, trying to avoid the rain although it was a losing battle. The drops were streaking down almost sideways, the wind picking up the more the storm raged on. He dug for his keys in his coat, willing them to unlock his door.

Grasping them, he yanked them out of his pocket but fumbled, making his keys drop into the mud at his feet. “Damn it.” He groaned, sweeping down to grasp them when a pair of small green eyes stared at him from under his truck.

They blinked at one another for a second before Curtis lowered down more into a squat, trying to peer under his truck at the little stowaway. “Hey little fella, you can’t stay under there.” Curtis softened his voice, reaching out a finger enough to encourage the pair of eyes forward. “Come on out, I won't hurt you.”

The green eyes blinked at him and then a pitiful squeal was given, making Curtis laugh a bit. “You and me both buddy, how about you come here, let me take a look at you.” Curtis clicked his tongue encouraging, really hoping that it was a kitten or puppy taking refuge under his truck and not some wild animal trying to get out of the rain.

Finally, the little black shadow started coming into the light. A very scrawny, barely able to walk properly black kitten came out, big green eyes almost too big for its face and water droplets rolling off its whiskers. “Well, damn kid…” Curtis’s palm swept around the little body, scooping him easily into his palm to bring him in against his chest and tuck him into his jacket. “You’re no bigger than a flea, what are you doing under there?”

Pulling up to a stand, he was quick to unlock his truck and get them both out of the rain. Once inside, he opened his coat again to see the black kitten huddling into the warmth of his sweater, fur all matted and mud streaked. “Guess you’re coming home with me kid.” He sighed, knowing that now he had this kitten, there was no way he could just leave him all alone in the parking lot. “Wait till Honey gets a look at you.”

You liked being at Curtis’s home alone. It was cozy with the big picture window in the livingroom facing the street, you could curl up and watch the rain drizzle beyond his front porch while being warm and dry. You had spent the better part of the afternoon browsing the wall of books behind the couch, plucking out one you assumed was Lillian’s at one point. A harlequin cowboy romance- the storyline about a lonely schoolteacher and her new beau, the newest cowboy in town.

It was a silly over the top romance with lots of drama and turned into a vivid page turner for you as the afternoon slowly melded into the evening. Curtis had already messaged you that he was going to be late and should just go back to your apartment if you didn’t feel like waiting. But you weren’t ready to leave your little happy place for the lonely apartment. It just felt like a different kind of empty at Curtis’s house, one that made you feel at peace.

So you made yourself right at home, around dinner time you did clean up the few dishes he must have used that morning and pulled dinner together for the both of you. Putting your casserole into the oven, the sound of a truck pulling into the driveway let you know that Curtis finally made it back home.

Quick to set a timer, you clicked open the garage door to see him step out, soaked to the bone from the look of him. “Long day?” You asked while leaning into the doorway.

“Days like today never seem to end.” He grumbled, his hand cupping a part of his jacket near his chest. “Umm, you're not allergic to cats are you?”

“No, why?” You straightened up, curious now and a tinge of wonder and excitement dipped into your voice. “Is that what is in your coat?”

Curtis unzipped part of it and reached in to pull out a little ball of black fur. Now there was no holding you back as you skipped down the couple steps into the garage and tentatively brushed your fingers against the kitten in his palm, cooing softly. “Oh baby, you are so cute.” You scritched behind one little ear and couldn't stop the way you were grinning as the little kitten started to purr. “Where did he come from Curtis? Are you keeping him? Does he have a name? Is it a him or her?” You scooped the kitten into your palms, cuddling the little baby to your chest and started to bring it inside. “You must be starving. Let’s see what Curtis has for you.” Curtis was left behind without getting any answers to the questions you bombarded him with.

He followed you, pausing to shed off his boots and wet outer clothes to hang up and dry. “Found him under the truck trying to get out of the rain. I have no clue where he came from.” Once he had his jacket hung up and boots tilted near the heater vent to help dry them out, he followed you into the kitchen while you were searching his cupboards. “I have no idea if it’s a boy or girl, I have just been calling it him.” Curtis moved in behind you, going through his upper part of the cupboards while you searched through the bottom.

“Tuna? Or anything soft? He doesn't look all that old, can he even eat solids?” You fretted while the kitten clung to your sweater, staring wide eyed at all the surroundings.

“If I don’t have something to use, I will run out to the corner store and get him something.” Curtis pushed aside jars of salsa and canned veggies, scowling at his lack of acceptable food for the kitten. Then a little lonely can of tuna was found, and he grabbed it to hold it up in victory. “But this should work for tonight at least.”

“Perfect, I will get this baby all cleaned up and some food in that belly.” You peeled the kitten off your sweater and cupped him in your hands, finally getting a good look at Curtis. “You’re soaked.” Your free hand went to grab his shirt, squeezing it a bit to feel how damp it was. “I got this, how about you go dry out and get changed.”

“You sure you don’t want help?” Curtis questioned, although grateful for the chance to get out of his work clothes finally.

“Handsome I got this, please before you get chilled and sick.” You glanced at the oven to look at the timer. “That casserole still has a good forty-five minutes at least.

“Damn Pretty Girl, you're really taking care of me… us.” He added the kitten in your hold after a second thought, clasping onto your chin to tilt your face up a bit and place a kiss on your mouth, taking his time to draw out a soft whimper and sure your toes were curling at the affection. “Thank you.” He whispered before splitting away, making for the stairs, the upstairs shower and his bedroom calling his attention now.

His girl making herself right at home in his house, and damn he liked that just fine.

While Curtis went upstairs to clean up, you assessed the kitten in your hold. Big eyes blinked up at you before the loudest squeak came from his little pink mouth, protesting the lack of action you were doing. “Okay! Okay… how about a quick rinse in the sink? Get some of this mud off.”

The kitten didn't like that, protested the whole time you had him in the sink, the running water warm while you worked your fingers through his fur and holding onto his scruff. But you were quick, soon wrapping him into a hand towel and carefully fluffing him up till he looked like an little angry furball.

Setting him onto the floor, the kitten scampered to under the table, flicking each little paw one at a time as if being wet was his biggest worry. You rolled your eyes at him while a little pink tongue defiantly started licking at his chest. With a can opener in hand, you started to peel the tuna’s top open. “You know being clean and wet is much better then muddy and wet.” You squeezed some of the juice onto a saucer while also scooping out some of the meat. You were answered with a little cackle of a mew. “Oh? You agreeing with me?” You set the saucer well away from the table, knowing Curtis would be back down soon and not wanting the kitten underfoot. “Come on lil guy.” You coaxed for him, hoping the smell would bring him out.

It didn’t though, the kitten blinked at you from the shadows under the table and then resorted to cleaning himself once again. “Alright, suit yourself.” Your hands slapped on your knees and with a slight moan, you pushed yourself back to a stand.

“Hey, you okay?” Curtis asked as he came back into the kitchen, out of his wet clothes, freshly showered and looking more like himself. A black tee and his grey sweats were his current comfy clothes of choice, ones which you appreciated on many levels. Taking an appraising look, you let yourself sink into his arms finally, cuddling up to his chest for a moment to bury your face into the soft tee, his soap still strong smelling as you inhaled deeply. “Mmh, very. Just a bit sore from my workout today. I got him all washed, and some food out but he hasn’t come out from under the table.” You shrugged while leaning down enough to peek and see where the kitten was now.

“He will when he gets a whiff of it.” Curtis rubbed at your back, soothing his hand where he figured you might be a bit sore. “Me on the other hand, I'm starving. What’s cooking?”

“Cheesy chicken and broccoli casserole…” You pulled away to look in the oven. “And it's just about done.” When you turned back around, you found Curtis kneeling under the table with the little saucer of tuna, encouraging the kitten to eat.

Without saying anything, you turned the oven off and moved to the floor next to Curtis, both of you now feeding the little stray. He started voraciously eating the tuna off both of your fingers. After a few moments, you softly nudge Curtis’s shoulder. “What are we going to do with him tonight?”

It was such a soft sight for you to witness. Curtis holding out his large fingers for the kitten to nibble tuna off of, everything in him was about being as gentle as possible. “I can put him in the upstairs bathroom for now, make a bed for him in the tub in case he has an accident.”

“And then?” Your mouth twists at the thought of having to find him a new home.

“Then maybe contact the local ASPCA… see where to go from there.”

You nod in understanding, Curtis had never mentioned wanting pets in his home before. “I used to have a cat a long time ago. Her name was Friskey, although I called her Friskababes.” You finally stretched out to lay on your belly, Curtis doing the same next to you while you took turns feeding the kitten.

It didn't matter that dinner was cooling above you on the stove or if anyone walked into Curtis's house, they would find you two lying on the kitchen floor, heads under the table. You both were in your own little world, taking care of the kitten who was starting to slow down his feasting. Pink tongue wiping over his whiskers as he waddled now to Curtis, purring as he head-butted against his bearded chin affectionately. “I never had a cat before. I had an ex that did, every time I would go visit her place, the cat didn’t like me.”

You smirked while watching the scene before you, your arms folded and your head resting on them. The kitten was working on wedging himself into the neck of Curtis’s shirt, batting at his gold chain. “Yeah well, I think this one likes you, a lot. Guess it’s a good thing you're not with that ex anymore.”

“Well I like this one a lot more too.” Curtis admitted while the kitten curled up against the crook of his neck and shoulder, his little claws kneading into his tee shirt. “Both the cat and the partner.” He winked at you with a brilliant blue teasing glance, making you huff in a soft laugh.

“Smooth move Stud. You know…” You inched over closer to him, lifting enough to whisper into his ear. “Seeing you taking care of this helpless kitten… it is sexy as hell. Too bad you are too busy taking care of him to do anything about it.” You nipped at his ear lobe, giggling as you slipped out from under the table before Curtis could react.

“It is?” He couldn’t move out, not like you were able to with the now snoozing black bundle of fur cuddled up against his neck. But he wriggled out, cupping the little protesting kitten, scooping him up while he moved to stand, catching sight of you up the stairs. “Listen kid… You are gonna chill for a while? I got a sweet little Honey to tend to.” He lectured the kitten while making his way up the stairs. The kitten meowed loudly, either in protest for being bothered while napping or in understanding.

Curtis didn’t really care, he was just paying attention to you teasing from the door, peeking around it to watch him stalking down the upstairs hallway for you. You gave a bit of a pout. “You were supposed to take your time, you know, not wake the baby.”

“He is fine.” Curtis assured you, holding up the yawning little black mass that made up the kitten. In the corner of the room was a laundry basket full of his clean clothes, and he deposited the kitten into it before twisting to catch you, knowing you were getting ready to bolt out of reach. You laughed as he pulled you back into his chest, his mouth teasing against a sweet spot behind your ear. “Now tell me more about this sexy as hell business.”

His hands slid up the front of your shirt, cupping your breasts and teasing at your nipples through your bra. You wriggled against him, sure to push your ass against his groin. “You know what those sweatpants do to me.” You whined as your head tilted to the side, “My big giant of a boyfriend going all gentle and taking care of a kitten? That’s like right out of a book.”

His big hands squeezed your breasts, pulling just enough to make the tingles shoot through you, arching yourself into him for more of his touch. “Fuck Honey I love when you say shit like that.” He twisted you to face him and walk backwards to the bed, pulling up the shirt you wore right over your head and making you fall with a bounce onto his bed.

You wriggled up to give him room to follow, grinning at him while you worked your bra off. “Like what?”

Curtis hovered over you, his gaze now on your breasts, like he couldn't look away while a hand fondled one, pulling up over you enough so he could get his mouth on you. Dragging a nipple into his mouth, sensitive from his earlier teasing, it tightened against his tongue; the feeling of his hot wet mouth made you keen at the sensation, pulling and sucking on it until you scratched at the bed to grab the sheets. “When you call me your boyfriend. It’s like I’m yours and I love you for it.” He said after he popped your peak from his mouth, looking at you now, his gaze an intense sliver of blue and blown pupils, making your breath catch for a moment.

“You are mine and I am yours.” You took a moment to sink back onto the bed, catching your breath with a few deep gasps.

He rumbled from between your cleavage now, his tongue lavishing against your skin as he shifted down to kiss and nibble over your belly. “Well it’s a turn-on for me when you just call me yours, you know?” His fingers weren’t far, rubbing along your sides and down to your hips, shifting you more under him and sinking down over you while he stretched out to lay over your body.

You caught his chain to drag him closer, arching up to meet him and kiss him. Your tongue slipped to meet his and tangle till it turned lust-filled and frenzied. Curtis groaned against your mouth, hooking an arm around you and lifting the both of you till he was sitting back on his heels and you were wrapping your legs around his trim waist, in his lap to grind against him. “You are mine Curtis and I see all of you.” Your hands swept up his back and grasped the back of his neck to hold on while your hips rocked in his lap, pushing your sensitive center against him, moaning softly whenever he pressed up against you, making excited tingles race up your spine. “Not just the man who is ridiculously handsome with his rugged good looks and blue eyes that can melt the panties off anyone.” You felt him scoff a bit, but his lips pulled in a grin while he dipped back to your collarbone now, retrailing back to your breasts. Red crept up the back of his neck, a clear sign that he was affected by you.

He once again eased you onto the bed, looming over you before dropping his weight to push you into the mattress and trap you underneath him. Scratches of his beard against your sensitive skin made you wriggle underneath him while his weight continued to pin you in place. “But the side that loves his friends like family, treats me like a fucking goddess, stargazes, reads, takes in little stray kittens found under trucks.” Your voice went a bit higher with emotion while he mapped your body, not leaving an inch of your chest or belly unexplored.

It’s like the kitten knew he was being mentioned cause all of a sudden the little black ball poked his head up over the edge of the bed, meowing loudly in that cackle sound that made you both pause a second, then burst out laughing at how ridiculous it sounded in the middle of you two making out.

“Kid, you are busting in at the wrong time.” Curtis pulled himself off of you while the kitten kept scrambling up the side of the bed till it was tumbling across the mattress towards you both, his little tail straight up like an exclamation point. Before he could reach you two, Curtis got a hold of him and moved back. “Don’t go anywhere Pretty Girl. I’m not done with you.” Stiff legged, he moved his way across the bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom. You stretched a bit, patiently waiting till you heard Curtis lecturing the kitten. “Stay here, just go to sleep or something. Look a nice fluffy towel, courtesy of Honey.” He flickered on a nightlight and then eased out of the bathroom, using his foot to keep the kitten back till the door shut.

You pushed yourself up to your elbows, watching him as he turned on the balls of his feet, grabbing his shirt to pull it over his head. “Our guest is away for the moment.”

“Uh huh… that's why I can see little paws scratching under the door?” You pointed towards the floor, where sure enough black paws were stretching through that little space, and another little pitiful squeal pierced out.

“Shit…” Curtis used his toes to nudge at them. “Come on dude… just an hour, that's all we need.”

That had you laughing again, rolling in the bed till you could push yourself to the edge to find one of Curtis’s nearby shirts. “I know we were busy but…” You tugged it over your head, making Curtis scowl at the sight of you covering back up. “Let’s pick this up later? It’s obvious he doesn’t want to be in there and he is not at all tired.”

“Cock blocked by a cat…” He grumbled a bit as he opened the door and the kitten shot right out, landing at your feet in a tangle of limbs.

“Didn’t you say you were starving?” You pointed out as you reached Curtis, running your hands up his chest and hooking your hands around the back of his neck. “Cause I do gotta take care of that casserole downstairs still.”

It was the most opportune moment that his stomach protested, making you arch a brow that you were indeed correct. “Fine! Fine, this is on pause. Just for now.” His hands cupped your face and kissed you, a quick fast one, no lingering, no turning into something more. “But I’m certainly not finished with you.”

“I don’t ever expect you to be.” You winked at him, before reaching to take one of his hands and lead him back downstairs. Behind the two of you the kitten followed, bouncing down each step till he bypassed both of them and trotted into the downstairs living room like it was all his.

A couple of days turned into a couple of weeks and the kitten was still at Curtis’s house. Slowly food bowls, a cat box and some toys appeared. You took the little black kitten to the vet, whom he hissed and swiped his little sharp claws at. The vet confirmed that he was a male kitten and just barely old enough to have been separated from his mother.

You explained how Curtis found him and that Curtis had gone back the next day searching for more, but he only found him. You lined up for the appropriate shots and left with the understanding to the staff that you weren’t sure if you or Curtis would be keeping him. It made your heart ache though, thinking about bringing him to a shelter to be adopted by someone else.

Even though as a kitten, he had the best chance at someone taking him. You just didn't want to let the little kitten go, even when he was yowling in the car the whole ride back to Curtis’s after the appointment.

Curtis was sure to meet you outside when you arrived back, grabbing the cat carrier before you were able to and carrying it inside. “What did they say about him?”

“He is definitely a boy, so we're correct in calling the little fluffer a boy. He is about ten weeks old… just barely able to leave his mom and he is a bit malnourished but to just keep him on the food we are using and he will be just fine.” You shrugged out of your jacket once inside and Curtis sprang the door open, the kitten dashing out and glaring at both of you over his shoulder for being trapped in the carrier, flicking his tail at you two. “And… the vet wanted to know what name they should put on the file and if we're going to keep him.”

It was out there now, were you guys going to keep this kitten? Curtis’s brow came together in thought, glancing back at the kitten who now was checking out the stainless steel food bowls Curtis bought last week along with the rather expensive bag of kitten food that he insisted on, claiming it would help the ‘Kid’ get some meat on his bones. “What did you say?”

“I said that I had to talk to you, considering if we kept him, he has to stay here. My little apartment doesn't allow pets of any kind. I’m almost shocked they haven't bitched about Peter my spider plant.” You said jokingly.

“Well… I guess that leaves just one thing to do about him, then doesn't it.” Curtis stated so solemnly that your heart sank. He didn’t want a kitten here, you were sure of it. What if it destroyed his stuff or became a problem? You could almost hear your ex’s disgusted voice when you once mentioned that you missed having a pet. What would you want an animal in the house for? They just make messes and cost money. Jake had made up for his callous remark by buying you a goldfish, stuffing it in a goldfish bowl that you immediately got rid of, and bringing the fish to your parent's house with a proper tank since you knew that the tank would just be another issue for Jake to press on. Your goldfish was still happily living there, having gotten big and beautiful in the few years they have had him.

A cat was a bigger responsibility than a goldfish and you were preparing yourself for Curtis to say he was going to take him to the adoption center.

“What do we name him?” He asked, his arms folding over his chest as he stared at the kitten, studying him. “I know I have been calling him Kid, but he needs something better than that.”

“You- you mean it? You want to keep him?”

“Honey, he was ours from that first night I brought him home. He is family now, the little punk. Besides, I would be worrying myself over who took him home if we didn’t.”

You felt such a rush of relief that you flung yourself at Curtis, who caught you with a surprised grunt, your hug around him turning fierce. “I love you so damn much, thank you for wanting to keep him.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in against him just as tightly and pressing his mouth to your forehead affectionately. “I would be such an asshole if I just tossed him away, this house is plenty big enough for him to terrorize.” He eased you back a bit to look down at you. “And you know once Sophia sees him, that he would have to stay anyways, as if she is ever gonna let him leave. So… names?”

“Damn, I don’t know… I tried not to think of names, so I wouldn’t get attached. Um, Midnight?”

“Same… although calling him Kid kinda ruined that. Hmm, Onyx?” Curtis threw out there.

“Nah, makes me think of Pokémon too much.”

“Coal?” He shrugged a bit, throwing another black cat name out.

“Cinders?”

“What about Salem? He acts like that sassy cat on Sabrina.”

“You watched Sabrina, the nineties version?” You asked, having loved that show yourself.

“Sure, Ella loved it and I would watch it on TGIF night. Hey Salem, come here.” Curtis called but the kitten curled up in a window, sunbathing and ignoring the two of them.”Guess not.”

You two just kept throwing out names that seemed fitting for black cats, but none of them seemed to fit the little bundle of terror.

You both went on with the day, as you went to meet up with Claude at the school to help her with a quick project and Curtis went over to Paulie’s to do some late afternoon bartending.

It was later when you finally got to Paulies, patrons already getting rowdy at a baseball game Paulie had on the overhead tv.

You scanned quickly, but their was no Curtis in sight. “Hey Paulie, where’s Curtis hiding?”

“Out back Y/N.” He pulled the bar section up enough for you to duck through. “Make sure he swings back out for his tips before you guys leave for the night. You know, if you ever want a part time job, I can easily hook you up. You’re a lot nicer then Curtis, you'll make way more tips.”

You rolled your eyes at Paulie as you hip checked through the door out back. “I doubt I would make more tips.”

Paulie shook his head as he watched you walk away, tsking to himself. “That girl doesn’t even know that everyone loves her.” He sighed as he went back to refill mugs and take food requests.

You worked your way towards the rear of the building where the backstock was kept, catching sight of Curtis and Edgar lining up to throw axes in the indoor designated area. You could see Yona standing back, watching their form. Edgar went first, his lean body flexing with strength as he leaned into his throw, making his axe spin rapidly with a heavy thunk into the target, almost at the bullseye. Yona gave a victory whoop and you had to add in your own claps of approval, making him spin in surprise at the extra praise. “Throw those last two, if you keep throwing like that, you should be captain of the team.”

Edgar gave a shrug, finally turning back to set himself back up. “I wouldn’t know first thing about being a team captain.” He went again, able to accurately eyeball it, this time the axe embedded on the opposite side, leaving inches between the two and the bullseye right in the middle.

Curtis swung his own, close to the middle, but not with the accuracy of Edgar’s throw. He scoffed at Edgar’s words, sure to cross his arms over his chest and study both the targets. “Man, why the hell not? You are obviously good at this, you are doing better then any of us and the whole team was your idea. Why not be the captain of it when we start competing this summer.”

Edgar let go of his last one, both the men watching as it landed right in the middle with a heavy thud, all three almost perfectly lined up. You and Yona cheering and clapping, making Edgar blush wildly. “I don’t, I never…” He stammered a bit, unsure of how to answer.

Curtis was blunt with him while he started preparing for his next throw. “Man, you gotta stop thinking the worst of yourself. Look at where you are now compared to months ago.” His arm curled over his head and he gave a powerful thrust, leaning into the move. The axe landed heavily into the board, making it wobble slightly and then straighten back out. “Don’t sit there and think you can’t before you even try. All of us think you can. Look.” Curtis motioned behind him back towards Yona and you who were now pouring drinks from a pitcher, lost in conversation. “They clearly think you're hot stuff, cheering at that last throw? Grey and I think you’re the man for the job. Now the question is, do you wanna be captain?”

Edgar was looking for an answer, but with an impatient arch of Curtis’s brow he stammered out “Yes, yeah… yeah I can do it.”

Curtis gave a nod of agreement. “Good man.” Then twisted to toss his remaining axe, sinking it into the target.

You and Yona were watching the guys in what looked like a heated conversation, but weren’t making out much of what they were saying. Yona furrowed her brow worried. “You think everything is okay?”

You glanced up at them while filling the mugs. “Sure, no one is being dragged out and no one is yelling. They are fine. Tell me about your date last night?” You really weren't sure, but if no one was looking like they were about to throw a punch, you figured it was probably fine. Curtis was pretty relaxed looking for the most part, his attention divided between talking to Edgar and focusing on the targets.

Those were your favorite moments, because damn he just looked so masculine in his throws. The way his body would flex and tense the muscles in his shoulders and back, leading down to his ass. You started to let yourself imagine what that would all look naked? Wide shoulders that tapered down to a slimmer waist, he had a stunning back, you knew cause you'd admired it whenever he took his shirt off.

“Then he surprised me with one of those midnight openings at this bookstore in the city.” Your attention turned back to Yona, who had a faraway dreamy look recalling her night before.

“Sounds pretty incredible, the bookstore especially.” You were quick to take a sip of your beer, trying to cover for the fact that you were daydreaming instead of listening to your friend, but now you were making sure to pay attention. “I would have loved that myself.”

“I know they do it every couple of months.” She yanked out her phone and started typing on it. “Let me send you the link. What were you and Curtis up to?”

You let your gaze drift back to the guys, now they were both laughing while wandering to the targets to grab the axes. “Well I took that black kitten this morning to the vet for a checkup, see if he needed anything. That opened up a convo about are we keeping him.”

“And? I know you have fallen for him.” Yona inquired while she put her phone back away. “He would be a nice addition if you are ready for a pet.”

“I wanted to, but my apartment is no pets allowed. I had myself all set for Curtis to say no… but he said absolutely he wanted to keep him.” Your grin spread, the way he had shocked you was still making your heart clench in excitement. “Now we need a name!”

“Oh the best part.” Yona pressed on, waving a hand for you to continue. “What’s his name gonna be?”

“Don’t know yet, every name we thought of that seemed to fit neither of us agreed on.” It was like a light bulb went off in your head and suddenly you were kicking yourself for not thinking of it earlier. “But! I think I have it. Give me a second.” Before Yona could question you, you headed over to where Curtis was set his axes down, ready to take a break.

“Hey Pretty Girl.” His blue eyes shifted over you and a sultry grin crossed his lips.

“I got it!” You bypassed your typical flirty answer, too excited at the moment.

Curtis’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Got what Honey?”

“The name, our kitten’s name. What about Thackery Binx? Or just one of the names, doesn’t have to be the whole thing. From Hocus Pocus.”

He looked thoughtful while considering it. “Why the hell didn’t we think of that before? It’s perfect.” His arms scooped around you, tugging you in close. “How about just Binx if you're okay with that? I like it more for him.”

You nodded with enthusiasm. “I like it too, so I think he will. He looks like a Binx.”

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis everett x reader #Curtis everett and reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett and you #curtis everett x plus sized reader #Curtis Everett and plus sized reader #curtis everett #curtis everett fanfiction #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes

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plussizefantasia · 5 months ago

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CozyTober Day 6: Cuddles After a Bad Day

Jake Jensen x gf!reader

wc: 0.4k

warnings: reader having a rough day

an: this is short and sweet (like me) Reblog if you enjoyed, I'll see you tomorrow for day 7!

We all have days that zap the energy from us, that push every button we have and still manage to find one more just for good measure. You’re a pretty unbothered person, it takes a lot to really get you upset but for some reason today just left you empty and it wasn’t even over yet.

You get home from work and practically flop onto the couch as soon as it is in sight. Your work clothes make you unable to get really comfortable but you don’t have it in you to change. All you have the energy for is pulling the fleece blanket from the back of the couch over you and queueing up Avatar the Last Airbender on Netflix.

You can feel your head begin to get lighter, tension from the day shedding the longer you spend recharging.

“Hey baby, long day?” Jake walks into the room, an apple with a bite taken out of it in one hand and his phone in the other.

“The longest.” You sigh.

“Recharging?” He asks, looking at the TV and registering what was playing.

You just nod and flop around a little bit more on the couch so your back is flat and both your arms are free.

“Can I help?” He asks.

You open your arms straight up and a giddy smile overtakes his face. He takes another huge bite from his apple before just tossing it behind him, you hear the thud of it landing on the floor. You snort a sharp laugh.

He practically dives into your waiting arms, his head resting on your chest and his arms wrapping around your body to rest underneath your body.

He starts making a faint but still noticeable buzzing noise.

“What… are you doing?” You lift your head and look down at him.

“Recharging you like a sexy little battery.” He says… like it's a completely normal sentence for someone to say.

“Do you find batteries sexy Jakey?”

“Not all of them.”

“But some of them?”

“I feel like I said something wrong.” he looks up and rests his chin on your sternum.

You feel happier than you have all day, with Jake laying on top of you, lowkey crushing you, and making stupid jokes.

“No,” you let out a light, loving sigh. “you said something right.”

#cozytober2024 #plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #x reader #fluff #requests open #requests wanted #drabble #jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen fluff #the losers (2010)#chris evans

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achilles-rage · 8 months ago

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Proud Boyfriend

summary: even though you told deacon not to tell anyone, street finds out that you wrote and published a book, meaning the rest of the team quickly finds out as well. when you come to visit deacon at work, you find out that they know, allowing deacon (and the rest of the team) to praise you for all your hard work.

word count: 1.3k

A/N: this was requested by @twilightlover2007, this was so fun to write, i really hope i did the idea justice! enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

After finishing their takedown, Street and Deacon stand at their lockers, packing up their bags to go home. As Street says a quick goodbye to Deacon, he looks down at Deacon’s bag, noticing a book peeking out of it. He smirks, making a quick grab for it, looking over it.

“What’s this, Deac? Didn’t know you were a reader,” he teases as Deacon turns around with wide eyes, noticing what he was holding.

“Nothing. It’s just a book.” Deacon replies, trying to take it back as Street flips the book back over to look at the cover. He raises a brow, looking up at Deacon, a small smile forming on his face.

“Wait, did your girl write this?” Street says in disbelief, as Deacon sighs, shaking his head, a small smile making its way onto his face.

“Yeah, she’s been working on it for a while. Finally got it published. But she didn’t want me to say anything. Said something about it being awkward if anyone hated it, which is ridiculous,” he states. “I read it. It’s amazing,” he adds, nodding his head, his smile growing wider.

Street laughs at your reasoning, shaking his head as he flips the book open, glancing over a few of the pages, Deacon watching proudly as he crosses his arms across his chest, standing taller.

“Look, don’t let her know I told you. And don’t tell anyone else, okay?” Deacon whispers as he hears Hondo, Chris, and Tan’s voices getting closer to the locker room.

“Don’t tell anyone what?” Tan teases, smirking as they walk in, walking up to the two as Deacon grabs the book back, trying to put it in his bag.

Hondo raises his hands in mock surrender, noticing Deacon’s movements as Chris and Tan look over at Street, raising a brow.

Street shrugs, smiling at both of them, shutting his locker. Chris moves into his path to the door, crossing her arms, giving him a look. Street sighs, looking back at Deacon quickly before turning back to Chris.

“Deacon’s girl wrote a book.” he mutters, defeated. Chris scoffs, turning to Deacon, laughing softly.

“Why didn’t you wanna tell us? That’s great!” she says, Tan and Hondo nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, man. I’d be telling everyone I know. I’m kinda surprised you’re not,” Tan tells Deacon, patting him on the back.

“Believe me, if she’d let me, I would tell everyone. She made me promise not to. I’ve seen how hard she worked on it, and you should’ve seen how happy she was when she finished it. I even bought 10 copies when it was published, but I didn’t tell her. I wanna support her, but she’s being really lowkey about it, around people she knows, at least.” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck, smiling softly, finally able to talk about it with someone that will listen to his praise.

“That’s awesome. If I wrote a book, I’d make everyone I know buy a copy.” Tan jokes, opening his locker to grab his bag.

“Who’s writing a book? If it’s an autobiography you better make me look good,” Luca jokes, walking into the room, patting Tan on the back as he walks by.

“Deac’s girl wrote a book,” Street says, crossing his arms over his chest as he turns to Luca.

“What? No way! That’s great, man,” he tells Deacon, wrapping his arms around him for a short hug.

“Yeah, I’m proud of her. She’s always wanted to be a writer. Honestly, I was gonna tell her it was good no matter what, but it’s really well done. I hope she changes her mind so you guys can read it.” Deacon replies, face growing hot, thinking of you.

“Oh, and before we go, I have to show you what we found on our other target. We were able to find his ex-girlfriends address, it looks like that was his old stash house. There’s some stuff we found that forensics wants us to see,” Hondo explains, the team nodding, grabbing their bags before following him to the lab.

As they walk out to the main area of the building, Deacon turns, seeing you walking towards him, a tupperware container in your hand.

“Hey, you said you might have to work late tonight, so I brought you some dinner just in case,” you explain, leaning into his embrace as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead quickly before you back up.

You’re met with a chorus of hellos from the squad. You smile, waving at them all, saying a quick hi back.

“Hey, I heard about your book, congrats! When do we get to read it?” Luca says, taking a few steps towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug. Your eyes widen as he says this, hugging him back stiffly, giving Deacon a glare over Luca’s shoulder.

Deacon smiles nervously at you, before looking down, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, Street saw it in my bag, so he had to tell everyone.” he explains, looking back up at you sheepishly, before glaring at Luca as he lets you go.

“Was I not supposed to say anything? I thought you were excited?” Luca says, a confused expression making its way onto his face, his smile slowly disappearing as he looks between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess you missed that part of the conversation,” Deacon says to Luca. “I’m sorry, I’m just proud of you, I wish you’d let me tell people,” Deacon says, turning to you. Your eyes soften as you smile softly, your face getting hot.

“He’s right. You should’ve seen his face; he just wants to praise his girl.” Hondo jokes, putting an arm around you, giving you a tight side hug. “If it makes you feel better, we’re proud of you too. We’d love to read it. Someday,” he says, giving you a wink as the rest of the team hums in agreement.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll let you read it. But don’t expect me to give you a free copy,” you tease, biting the inside of your lip as you fight back a smile.

The team laughs, Street rolling his eyes, teasing you. “Of course. Wouldn’t expect a friends or family discount or anything,” he says, Chris punching his arm, shaking her head, smiling.

You laugh, looking down, feeling your chest swell with pride and excitement. You didn’t know they would want to read your book that bad. You look at Deacon as he smiles at you proudly, arms crossed across his chest, standing tall. He nods his head, a hopeful expression on his face.

“We’re not done with this though. We’re talking about why you had a copy of my book here when you know how Street is,” you tease, pointing a finger at Deacon’s chest as Street scoffs, feigning offense.

Deacon laughs, pulling you into his chest again, hugging you tightly. You put your head on his chest, letting out a long exhale, your smile growing.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” He whispers in your ear, loud enough for Hondo to hear from beside you.

“We all are. You’ve got yourself a talented woman there, Deac.” he says, looking at Deacon, a smirk on his face.

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of your head, “I know.” he says quieter, loosening his grip on you, looking down at you with his eyes full of admiration.

“Hondo just has to show us something in forensics and then I’ll be ready to go. Do you wanna wait and we can go out and properly celebrate your book?” Deacon asks you. You nod, smiling softly.

“Fine,” you say, faking annoyance, leaning up to kiss him softly. “I’m gonna go say hi to Cortez quickly. Come get me when you’re done.” You tell Deacon, turning to walk to her office as Deacon watches you walk away.

“You did good, Deac.” Tan says, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as they begin walking to the lab.

“Yeah. She doesn’t happen to have a sister or anything, does she?” Street teases, which earns him a shoulder check from Deacon as the rest of the team laughs.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 10 months ago

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Someplace Like Home

Title: Someplace Like Home

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, minor injuries, minor blood, non-descriptive mentions of hospitals, mild language

Summary: Y/N owns a hostel in Croatia. When the very handsome Grant comes to work for her, she falls hard and fast for the new handyman.

A/N: This story takes place between Civil War and Infinity War, when Steve is on the run. There are a handful Croatian phrases/words used, which are translated at the end of this fic. Don’t ask me why all my Steve stories suddenly have foreign languages in them. As always, thanks for reading and supporting my writing in all the ways you do. Enjoy!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Your morning starts off slow, like it always does, and after the handful of guests have finished breakfast and left to spend the rest of the day at the beach or in the mountains, you settle yourself behind the front counter and pull out your laptop. The dirty dishes can wait until later—Ana will be here in an hour, and she prefers doing the dishes over going over the books, so you have an unspoken deal that you’ll do the bookkeeping if she cleans up after meals.

You’re just opening up the software on your laptop when the front door opens. The bell above it jingles as a man steps in, bringing with him a warm gust of air. June has been unseasonably cool, but today is the warmest it’s been in weeks. You’ve kept most of the windows open all morning, even though it was still a bit chilly.

“Dobro jutro,” you greet. You carefully shift the laptop off to the side a few inches, being careful not to mess up the carefully arranged papers you’ve sorted out on the counter.

“Kako vam mogu pomoći?”

The man has a gray hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s tall and blond, a dark blond that looks golden in the light from the outside but brown in the shadows. His thick beard and mustache are well-trimmed. You automatically open up the leatherbound reservation book and reach underneath the counter for a key.

“Dobro jutro. Uh, govorite li engleski?” asks the man. He smiles politely, and you smile back, nodding.

“Of course,” you answer. “How can I help you?”

His eyes move to the pen in your hand, already poised over the next open spot in the reservation book. “I’m not here for a room. I’m here about the opening for a handyman.”

Surprised, you close the book again and tuck it back under the counter where it belongs, along with the key you’d grabbed. No one has come about the open position since you’d posted it months ago in the local cafe. Not even a sign outside the hostel has helped.

“In that case, my name’s Y/N. I’m the owner here.”

“Grant,” he replies, his hand already held out for you to shake.

You oblige with another smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Can I ask how you found out about the position? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town.”

He nods once. “I just moved here from Italy, and from Switzerland before that.”

“So you’re making your way through Europe, then?” you ask. You’re not entirely surprised—he looks rugged enough that he could handle a long backpacking trip or several months of solo travel, unlike some of the college students you normally have traipsing through your village.

“In a way,” he answers. “Truthfully, I’d like to settle down someplace, but it’s been a rough few years. I haven’t quite found the place that feels like home yet.”

Secretly, as you listen to him explain the various European cities in which he’s lived, you wish that he’ll come to feel at home here. Brdonik isn’t large enough to be on any maps, but it’s been your home for almost a decade now, and you can’t imagine a better place. The whole community bands together, and people look out for each other. There’s enough tourism from backpackers and small cruises that you’re not totally isolated, but you’re still far enough removed that your daily life isn’t saturated with commercialism and the big city nonsense you often hear about through your guests. You’d experienced it enough before coming to Croatia, and you don’t ever plan on going back to the life you’d had before you moved.

“To answer your question,”—Grant’s gentle continuation pulls you from your thoughts—“I saw a flier posted in the cafe down the street. I stopped there for lunch.”

“What did you order?” you ask. You prop an elbow up on the counter and level him with your gaze.

“Is that important?

“If you want this job it is. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they order at a restaurant.”

He smiles a little. “I got the turkey sandwich.”

You consider his choice for a moment before giving him a nod. “Simple, but respectable. A clear tourist choice, but I like it.”

“You can’t go wrong with a turkey sandwich,” he adds.

“It’s a classic!” You smile back at him and then come around the counter into the main part of the lobby. You grab your clipboard from its hook on the wall.

“Let me give you a tour,” you tell him. “I’ll point out some of the things that need fixing, and then you can tell me if you still think you’re a good fit.”

Grant agrees, and he walks beside you as you lead him through the hostel. You show him the currently unoccupied rooms, as well as the common areas, and you give him plenty of time to inspect the stalled projects and major fixes that he’d been in charge of. While he looks around, you watch him carefully. There’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he doesn’t set off any alarm bells in your head like some of the previous candidates had. He’s respectful of the property and the few lingering guests you come across, and Grant is polite enough to open doors for you as you approach them. He speaks softly and clearly, and his sense of humor is well-timed. Somehow, despite his hulking frame and obvious strength, you feel safe around him.

Eventually, you lead him to your office. Grant takes the seat in front of your desk and you close the door behind him, then sit behind your desk and pull a pad of paper from the drawer. He’s almost too big for the chair you normally reserve for college-age backpackers looking for a few days of housekeeping work. He’s relaxed, though, and he rests both arms on the thin wooden armrests as you get out what you need. You sneak a glance at him as you sit upright again. His eyes move slowly and carefully over the framed photos and documents on the wall, taking in each one of them individually before he moves onto the next—your college diploma from NYU, a photo of you with your family the last time they came to visit, a certificate of operation from the local government. His backpack is leaning up against the front leg of the chair and his left leg, and you briefly wonder how he’s afforded to travel so much. The bag looks brand new, and high-tech, too. Is he a tech mogul of some kind? A grown-up trust fund kid? Did he steal it, or is he just really good with money?

“You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t have any questions prepared for you,” you tell him as you reach for a pen.

He nods and looks back at you. “You weren’t expecting me to walk in today, I understand.”

“Either way, I have to say that so far, I’m very impressed with you.” You glance up again and give him a polite smile, then look back down as you write his name and the date at the top of the page. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Carter,” he says.

Nodding, you add that at the top and make your first bullet point.

“Grant Carter. Are you named after someone? That seems a pretty traditional name for a guy your age.” You immediately cringe at the question. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. My mother was a big fan of Ulysses S. Grant.”

“The 18th president?” you ask, grinning wide.

He nods and lets out another small laugh. “That’s the one.”

“He’s not normally up there on peoples’ lists of favorite presidents.”

“She had her reasons, I guess,” Grant shrugs.

You hum a little with a smile and look back down at your almost empty legal pad. You have a million questions that you want to ask, and more that you know you should, but you allow yourself to think for a moment before you look up again. Whatever you ask has to be the right mix of the two.

“You’ve lived in a lot of really impressive places,” you begin, and Grant nods in confirmation. “Why come here? There are plenty of larger cities with more job openings. Better paying job openings,” you add.

“You sell yourself short,” Grant easily replies. He sits forward a little, his elbows sliding closer to the ends of the armrests. “Your town is beautiful. It’s comfortable, and a bit secluded. I’m looking for something quieter.”

“A lot of people are, but we’re not often what they want in the long run. How long are you planning on staying?”

Grant stares at you for a long moment before he replies, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a clearer answer.”

“I plan on staying indefinitely, but if it changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Not quite satisfied with his answer, you still scribble down the response and make a second point on the next line down.

“Do you have handyman experience?”

Grant shakes his head. “But I’m a quick learner and I’m stronger than I look. Whatever I don’t already know how to do, I’ll pick it up quickly if I can get the information from someone or somewhere.”

I highly doubt you’re stronger than you look, you think, forcing yourself to look down at the paper and write, rather than at him. You already look pretty damn strong.

“Do you have a previous employer I can contact? Or references?”

“I can have that information to you by the end of the day.”

You nod and keep writing, and you don’t look up as you say, “We don’t typically provide housing for employees, as we’re a small enough village that commute isn’t an issue, but given that you’re new to town, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a place to stay yet.”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“I can get you set up in a room here, if that’s alright with you. I won’t expect you to work outside of normal business hours, except in an emergency, but that’s the same even if you lived off-property,” you tell him, looking up. You don’t lift your pen, and it’s a little satisfying to see that Grant looks mildly surprised. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be surprised by anything.

“You’re hiring me?” he asks.

“Should I not?”

He quickly recovers and shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “I was just surprised that you’re not waiting until after you’ve seen my references.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

“I don’t think so, no.

“Are you a terrible employee?” you ask, putting your pen down on the desk.

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

“Should I be concerned about criminal activity?”

Grant laughs. “I’m a model citizen, though I did steal a piece of cake when I was a kid.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the local authorities,” you tease, grinning. You slide the notepad onto your desk and stand, holding out your hand for him to shake. Grant obliges. “You’re hired, Mr. Carter. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in before your first day tomorrow.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he replies.

“I won’t take the room out of your salary unless it prevents us from taking guests, but I don’t see that becoming an issue, except maybe in mid-July,” you tell him as you move around the desk to the door. “The handyman position pays 800 euros a month. You’ll be paid bi-weekly in check or cash, whichever your preference. We don’t have direct deposit here. If you need an account in town, there’s a bank down the road.”

“Cash is fine,” he says. He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder before following you back out into the hallway, then out to the lobby. You make a pit stop at the front desk to grab a key before heading up the main staircase.

The private, single person rooms on the third floor are a little older, and you briefly worry as you climb the stairs if the beds will be able to hold Grant’s weight. You don’t use them as often now that you’ve finished transforming the old hotel into a hostel. There’s a thin coating of dust on the handrail and you make a mental note to give this floor a thorough cleaning tomorrow while he’s occupied, that way you won’t be intruding.

You lead Grant to the end of the hall, where the rooms are slightly larger and the windows overlook the ocean. While the view is great, most of your summer guests only fill the dorm-style rooms, so you’re fairly certain you won’t be missing out on any profit by giving him this room.

“Here we are,” you say, and you open the door before stepping aside so he can enter first.

Grant ducks through the doorway and flips the light switch, then looks around in silence. You wait in the hallway, holding your breath as he makes his inspection.

“This is nice,” he finally says, looking back at you. He drops his bag at the foot of the bed. “You’re sure it’s alright if I stay here?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Your phone chimes in your back pocket and you pull it out, quickly reading the notification. It’s only mildly urgent, but you can feel Grant trying to look occupied as he waits for you to leave, so you look up and gesture back towards the stairs with your phone.

“I’ve gotta take care of something, but you’re in luck. Every Thursday night we host a group dinner for the guests. The food is all cooked by a chef from a local restaurant in an attempt to promote the local cuisine, so you’re welcome to join us, or I can recommend some other restaurants in the area, if you want to explore a little bit more. We eat at seven.”

Nodding, Grant smiles and crosses the room to pull the key from where you’d left it in the lock. “I’ll see you at seven. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Grant. Welcome aboard!” You smile once more, then turn and head back down the hall. His door closes as you reach the top of the stairs, and suddenly, you can’t wait for dinnertime.

You occupy yourself for the majority of the day by compiling a list of projects for Grant, as well as contacting the references he sends you using the email address on the hostel’s website. He gets glowing reviews from each and every person on the list, though they all seem a little confused when you first ask about him.

Grant comes down to the first floor at five minutes to seven, and you’re just greeting the first small group of guests to arrive back from their excursions when he steps down from the bottom step. You glance over and give him a quick, acknowledging smile before turning back to the guests.

“Dobor dan! How was your time at the beach?” you ask. They reply politely in a mix of English and their own native language. You vaguely recognize it as French. You’re about to tell them in English about the dinner schedule, hoping that they’ll understand at least partially, but Grant begins talking in rapid-fire French before you even open your mouth.

It takes everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping straight through the floor. None of Grant’s references had mentioned he was bilingual, and neither did he. It feels like it should’ve been obvious, however, given that every single person he’d talked to had mentioned his incredible intelligence and ability to pick up skills quicker than anybody they knew.

Still, you watch in stunned silence from behind the front desk and Grant chatters with the guests. He leads them from the lobby and into the adjoining sitting area, where you hear them sit down and continue to talk. Someone laughs, and then Grant does, too. It’s a deep, mellow baritone, and you catch yourself grinning before you manage to stifle it.

When the next group of guests walk in, you guide them into the sitting room with the others. Grant catches your eye as you turn the corner, and when he smiles, you swear that your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s your employee, you chide yourself, and you turn your back on the group on the premise of prepping a plate of cookies for the coffee table.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” you say as you set the plate in the center of the group. Grant translates for you, first in French, and then in a language that sounds almost Spanish, but you know enough of that to know that it’s something different. All the guests nod in agreement.

You settle against one of the heavy wood bookshelves and watch quietly as Grant chats with the guests, switching fluidly between languages whenever he turns to a new person. It’s amazing, so you simply stay silent as you listen to the flurry of foreign words in the sitting room. You’ve never heard the pre-dinner conversation so lively. It brings a new warmth to the hostel, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the guests come alive, even though they’re exhausted.

“Dinner is ready!” Ana calls. She pokes her head in the door, and she smiles wide when she sees the guests talking excitedly. Every seat is taken. When she turns to look at you, you only grin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer so she can lower her voice. “Who is that?”

You lean in, whispering, “His name is Grant. He’s the new handyman, and apparently, he speaks multiple languages.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know when I hired him! This,” you gesture with one hand towards the circle of guests, who have started to rise now that Grant has passed along the message about dinner, “was a surprise to me, too. He just started talking to them on his own. I didn’t ask him to do anything.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, giving you a meaningful look. Before you can scold her for trying to meddle in your love life, she slips away and Grant appears at your side.

“Who is that?” he asks.

Goosebumps erupt on your arms at the sound of his deep voice so close to your ear. He’s leaned down so you can hear him clearly, and though he’s not quite in your space, he’s still close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. It should feel stifling in the early summer heat, but it’s comforting, and you turn towards him with a bright smile.

“Ana. She’s the manager when I’m not here. I’ll introduce you later. How come you never told me you spoke all those languages?” you ask.

Grant just smiles back at you. “You never asked.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to my list of questions for the next time I have to hire someone.” You gesture at the line of guests filtering through the doorway to the hostel’s dining room. “We should eat. Most of the guests have spent all day hiking or at the beach, and they’ll be hungry. Our local chefs are all amazing, so the food always goes quickly.”

“What’s on the menu?” Grant asks. He starts to walk and you fall into step beside him, noting how he angles himself sideways and stoops through the doorway so that you’re not squashed into the doorframe. It’s a miracle he doesn’t hit his head on any of the lowered ceilings or hanging decor in the building.

I’ll have to warn him about the lights in the rooms on the second floor, you note.

“Punjene paprike. Stuffed peppers,” you translate. You pause and watch as the guests choose their seats, silently making sure there are enough chairs. When it’s clear you’ve done the math correctly, you look over at Grant. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugs and surveys the long table filled with food. People are already piling their plates high and chattering with their friends and family, and the room is filled with amicable noise. The sun coming in from the windows is golden. The windows face south, which is one of the many reasons why you’d first purchased the building. It needs a lot of work, and it always has, but the view of the ocean from the dining room windows, along with the way the sun illuminates the whole room, helps make all the work worth it.

“This place is beautiful,” says Grant, quietly. “You’ve done well.”

You look over at him, surprised at the praise. It warms you from the inside out, and you smile when he meets your eyes. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard.”

He nods, and after a moment, he gestures towards the table. There are two empty seats beside each other, near the far end of the room. Ana has taken the seat across from them and she’s already begun to eat.

You follow Grant across the dining room, and you try not to act surprised when he pulls out the chair and helps you sit before taking the spot beside yours. Ana catches your eye as you reach for a dish, but you look away. You can’t risk having her embarrass you in front of the guests.

Or Grant, the cheeky little voice in your brain adds, but you quickly push the thought to the far reaches of your brain. Showing your hand—and your burgeoning feelings for Grant—right now is something you need even less.

“So, you’re from New York?” he asks.

You look up from where you’re pulling a napkin into your lap. “What?”

“Your degree. It’s from NYU, so I’m assuming that you’re from the States.”

Nodding, you allow him to serve one of the peppers onto your plate, and you heap an extra serving of rice onto the side of your plate before handing him the bowl. You don’t want to assume he likes anything, especially since he ordered one of the most American things on the menu at the cafe.

“I am. I grew up in Manhattan, and I decided to stay there for college. Once I got my degree in hospitality, I decided it was time I see more of the world,” you tell him.

“Why Croatia?” Grant asks.

You shrug and pick up your fork. “Honestly? I don’t know why. I didn’t even mean to come here. I ended up on the wrong train and decided to stick it out. I figured it would be a fun experience either way, but I fell in love with it here. On my second day here, I saw that this building was up for sale and I had just enough money in my savings to buy it. It was a big risk, but I think that it was worth it.”

He looks around the room, listening to the conversations for a few moments before he smiles. “I think so, too.”

“Where are you from?” you ask. “You’re clearly American.”

Grant laughs at that, nodding. “I grew up in Brooklyn. When I was old enough, I served in the army for a few years, and since then I’ve just been… traveling.”

The army thing makes sense, and you file that information away for later. The two of you start to eat, exchanging a few more words throughout the meal. Grant offers to help Ana with the dishes. She’s giddy at the proposal, so you let them head into the kitchen as you help guests arrange their plans for the next day. You find yourself straining to listen for the sound of his voice during the quiet moments, however, but by the time the dishes are finished, Grant tells you that he’s exhausted and he wants to get a good night’s rest before his first day on the job. You wish him goodnight from the front desk, then wait for Ana to appear and barrage you with a million questions about the new handyman.

You learn quickly that there’s even more to Grant than meets the eye. He’d been telling the truth in his interview—he’s deceptively strong, and he really does learn quicker than anyone you’ve ever met. His Croatian improves leaps and bounds in the first few months at the hostel. By the end of the summer, he’s practically fluent, even if he does bumble through some of the more complicated phrases with a faint blush on his cheeks.

The longstanding projects for the hostel are all completed by the end of August, leaving you scrambling to keep Grant busy. When you can’t find anything to do, however, he busies himself by exploring the far reaches of the island, speaking with the guests in a myriad of languages, and keeping you company in the lobby or in your office. His presence, which had once seemed much too large for the old brick building, has settled. He seems at home in the armchair you buy for the corner of your office, and he’s become a fixture in the doorway of the lobby, where he likes to stand and watch traffic pass by.

It’s on one of the hottest days of the year that you first get a glimpse behind Grant’s ever-friendly facade. You’re behind the desk, going through the reservations for the upcoming week, when there’s a shout from outside. The front door to the hostel is propped open in an attempt to let in a breeze, and Grant has taken up residence in his normal spot. You’ve only just processed the shout when there’s an explosion. The floor beneath you shakes and shudders, and you grip the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep upright.

Grant whirls around and fixes his eyes on you. He’s scanning you, up and down, searching for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, swallowing thickly, and peer over his shoulder. There’s no sign of what’s happened outside, but you can hear screaming and shouting. There’s a gunshot and you flinch.

“Stay here, and stay hidden,” says Grant, and you know in an instant that it’s an order. “Stay quiet and don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

Nodding again, you drop to a crouch, then curl up on the floor with your back against the desk. You clutch your phone in one hand and listen as Grant closes, then locks the door. When he doesn’t appear behind the desk, you crawl over to the side and look out into the small lobby. He’s gone.

Your arms shake beneath you and you have to fall back against the desk for support before you fall flat on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to the commotion outside. There are no more explosions, but you hear more screams and shouts, followed by a crash and gunshots. Your heart pounds in your chest as the noise gets closer and closer. You know that Grant was in the army, so he must have military training, but the thought of him outside—the thought of him in danger—makes you want to puke.

There’s a thud against the front door and you flinch. Your body tenses and you curl up in the fetal position, trying to maintain your breathing. It doesn’t work, however, and when there’s another bang, you scream.

“Molim! Molim, let me in!”

You look around the edge of the desk again. It’s a woman on the other side, and the desperation in her voice propels you to your feet and into the lobby without a second thought. You twist the lock and yank open the door.

A slim woman dressed entirely in black grins at you. Her eyes are a shocking shade of electric blue and her teeth are bright white—a stark contrast against the mask that hides the rest of her features.

“Sorry, dragi,” she says, and you gasp when she reveals the gun in her left hand. With the other, she reaches out and grabs you. “You’re coming with me.”

“No!” You fight against the woman’s grip, and when you lift your eyes to search for help from someone else, you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Grant is lifting a car off someone. He lifts the car and tosses it aside with a heave and a grunt, and then he’s fighting someone hand-to-hand. The man in black is clearly trained because he gets in a few hits, but Grant never stays down for long. He’s slowly forcing the man back down the street, towards the beach, instead of towards the line of shops that’s on the other side of the hostel.

There’s a blast as another explosive goes off, this time in a restaurant diagonal from your front door. Stone and rubble flies in every direction. The street is empty of people, thankfully, except for the people Grant is fighting. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm is going off, and the light from the harsh midday sun is almost blinding. Your ears are ringing from the blast and the alarm. You think you scream at some point, but you’re not sure.

The man that Grant has been fighting has been thrown back by the blast, but Grant is still standing, as if he’s anchored onto the pavement. There’s a metal car door in his hand. He’s gripping onto a piece of the leather interior, and the red painted finish on the outside has been battered by the flying debris. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

The woman drags you out of the hostel and onto the street. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and places the gun against the side of your head. You stop struggling then, and your breath catches in your throat as your heart begins to pound even harder. Your vision is going blurry along the edges, but not enough to miss the way Grant’s jaw clenches when he catches sight of you.

“Captain Rogers!” the woman shouts.

He throws a second man off of him and turns fully towards you and the woman. “Let her go!”

In your ear, the woman chuckles. It’s low and dark, and full of malice, and you shiver. You close your eyes and pray that it’s all just a bad dream.

“Not until you come with us,” the woman replies.

“Leave her and the others out of this.”

When you open your eyes, Grant is looking past you at the woman. The light reflects in his deep blue eyes, and it’s then that you realize what he’s been hiding from you.

How did I miss it before?

“Steve Rogers,” you choke.

He looks at you again. “Y/N…”

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

There’s a pause as he watches you with clear regret, and then the woman laughs, shocking you out of your revelation.

“How precious!” she exclaims. “Your little boss had no clue who you were?”

“Let. Her. Go.” Steve takes a step forward and the woman’s grip on you tightens. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you when she pushes the gun harder against your head, making you crane your neck to one side.

Two new men in black come up behind Steve. He turns his head slightly, listening to their approach, but he doesn’t move. You can tell that he’s calculating what to do next.

There’s a moment of clarity as you watch them launch themselves at him. Steve fights like he was born for it—and maybe he was, you rationalize—and as he easily overcomes them both, you have a revelation that’s nothing short of a rock at the pit of your stomach.

Steve has to get out of this alive. So many people count on him, and they always have. Though you know that there are a lot of people all over the world who consider him a criminal, you also know that there are a lot of people just like you that think Steve deserves a place of honor for all that he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made.

The safety on the woman’s gun clicks off and Steve freezes. The two men take advantage of that, and they grab his arms, pulling them tightly behind his back and pushing him to his knees. He falls with a grunt. One of the men grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back until he’s looking at you and the woman from his place on the ground. He doesn’t fight back.

“Steve,” you plead. “You have to fight. You can’t let them take you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. He shifts his gaze to the woman without moving his head. “If I go with you, you’ll let her go?”

“You have my word.”

Heat swells in your eyes and you know that you’re about to cry. “No! Don’t trust her, Steve! You can’t believe her!”

The woman jostles you and you close your eyes on instinct. A tear slips down your cheek.

“Shut up,” she growls.

You swallow thickly. At your sides, your hands and fingers have gone numb, and your legs are barely holding you upright.

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “I’ll go with you.”

A sob bursts through and the woman releases you. She practically throws you to the ground, and you have just enough time to get your arms out in front of you before you hit the road. Pain shoots up both limbs and the pavement digs into your forearms. From where you lay, you watch the men pull Steve to his feet. He moves with them and doesn’t fight back as they drag him to a black cargo van on the perimeter of the blast zone.

“Steve!” you scream. Your voice breaks and your throat feels raw as you push yourself up and stumble in their direction. The movement sends pins and needles into your hands and feet, but you do it anyway. Your limbs feel completely out of your control as you attempt to go after them.

Steve looks back at you. He’s too far now for you to make out his expression, but you can see that he’s trying to tell you something. The man on his right shoves his shoulder and he’s forced into the van.

“Let him go! Steve!” You start to sprint, running after the van as the back door slides shut and the woman, who climbed into the driver’s seat while you were getting to your feet, begins to navigate it through the rubble from the explosions. The tinted windows keep you from seeing Steve inside and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

“Someone help me! Stop that van!”

You run until you physically can’t. The van is long gone, and when you collapse onto the street, a crowd gathers around you. People are murmuring and asking you questions. There are too many hands, too many faces, even if many of them are familiar. Your vision swims as you’re rolled onto your back. The summer sun beats down on you harder, and you try to focus, but all you can manage is a mumble of Steve’s name before you lose consciousness on the pavement.

When you wake, the soft beeping noise is enough to tell you that you’re in a hospital. You open your eyes, expecting to be greeted by white walls and bedding, and maybe a wall of cabinets with a sink. Instead, there’s a slanted wall of glass windows, each separated by a pillar of concrete. Thin, almost invisible computer screens with golden text are scattered around your room, each displaying charts, figures, and data in a language you can’t read. Some are embedded into the walls on either side of the bed, while others float above white counters that look more like control panels for a spaceship. There are scans of someone’s body and brain—your brain, you realize after a long moment—that spin in circles on the floating screens.

A hiss makes you flinch, and you quickly look away from the brain scan to where a young, dark-skinned girl is walking in through a set of sliding glass doors you hadn’t seen before. Her white, high-necked sheath dress looks nothing like hospital attire, especially since it’s sleeveless and only has mesh to cover her shoulders and a few inches below her knees, but she’s holding a tablet and looks so serious that you wonder if maybe she’s not a regular doctor. After all, this doesn’t seem like a normal hospital. Where are you? Did the men in black come back to get you, too?

“Y/N, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks.

Her accent is jarring, and you blink. When you go to speak, you have to lick your lips a few times. They’re dry, and your mouth feels so much like sandpaper that for a moment you don’t think you’ll actually be able to say anything at all.

“Where am I?” you finally ask in return. “Who are you?”

She smiles briefly and checks something on her tablet, then glances over at one of the floating screens off to the side. Seemingly satisfied, she locks the device and sets it aside.

“My name is Shuri. You’re in Wakanda. You will be safe here.”

You frown. “Wakanda?” None of the hospitals even remotely close to the hostel hold that name, not even in passing, but it sounds familiar.

“Yes. We’re friends of Captain Rogers. When we heard about his capture, and how you were involved, we brought you here.”

Tears burn hot in your eyes as the memories from the street outside the hostel come flooding back all at once. How long have you been in the hospital? Who’s looking for Steve?

“We have located him already,” she continues, and you inhale sharply, shifting in the bed as you reach up to wipe your face. “And the Dora Milaje has been sent to retrieve him.”

“The what?” you ask. Your voice shakes and you swallow hard in an attempt to steady yourself.

Shuri smiles again. “The Dora Milaje. They are our special forces here in Wakanda. Let me ask again, how are you feeling?”

You move in the bed a little bit more, testing your limbs for stiffness or pain. Surprisingly, there’s very little. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Confused, mostly. Thirsty.” Your stomach growls, so you quickly add, “Hungry.”

She laughs and nods, then picks up her tablet. Shuri taps a few times before glancing down at something through the slanted windows.

“Someone will bring you food shortly. I’ll also have someone come change the bandages on your hands and wrists. Your injuries are healing nicely. You should still rest a while longer, but I will make sure you’re notified when Captain Rogers has been safely returned.”

Nodding, you sit back against the pillows, but you quickly sit up again with a gasp. “The hostel! Ana!”

“We’ve sent someone to assist Miss Mitrovich in your absence,” Shuri soothes. She steps closer to the bed and you lie back as she approaches. “There were very few repairs that needed to be done to your building, but they are taken care of, and all your guests are safe. I have already dispatched a team of Wakandan specialists to help with the rebuild of Brdonik. We are also installing a security system in your building.”

You sigh in relief and close your eyes, swallowing against the dryness again. You lay in silence, listening to Shuri as she moves around the room and mutters to herself. When you finally open your eyes again, it’s because she’s greeting someone as the sliding glass doors hiss open for a second time.

“Grant,” you murmur, and he gives you a weak smile from just inside the doorway. You correct yourself, shaking your head. “Steve.”

“Grant is my middle name,” he quietly explains. “And Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” you finish. “I see the connection now.”

While waiting for your food, you’ve slowly been piecing together the different parts of Steve’s life that you knew, trying to get the full picture. You’ve known him personally as Grant, the quiet man from Brooklyn that is good with his hands, always knows exactly what to say when you’re in a bad mood, and is a hit with every guest that crosses your threshold. On the other hand, you also know him as Steve, the All-American super-soldier that’s plastered across every history textbook you’ve ever been given. He’s also the super-soldier that you’ve watched on the news, listening to reporter after reporter praise him like he’s a god, then publicly curse and shame him on their next breath.

Shuri quietly excuses herself. You stare at Steve as she leaves through the sliding doors behind him. There’s a cut above his right eyebrow, and blood caked in his beard, right below a nasty split in his lower lip. He’s standing lopsided, like he’s keeping the weight off his right foot, and he looks like he could use a shower and a long nap.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” Steve answers. He sighs. “For getting you hurt. For putting you in danger.”

You shake your head and sit up a little more in the bed, allowing the pillows to prop you upright. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is, and—”

“And nothing,” you interrupt. You give him a stern look and he presses his lips together with a wince. “You didn’t know that there was any danger. If you had, wouldn’t you have left?”

After a second, Steve nods, and you continue,

“And if you’d been able to stop it from happening, you would’ve, right?”

Another nod and you smooth the surprisingly soft hospital blanket over your legs.

“Then it’s not really your fault, Grant. Steve,” you correct again, more firmly this time. You’re still coming to terms with the fact that he’s not 100% who he said he was.

“But you still got hurt. I still put you in danger just by being there. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I got too comfortable, and too close, and I was careless.”

You purse your lips and watch him for several moments. Steve stays still under your inspection, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, you tell him, “I don’t regret what happened, and if I had the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’m not in mortal danger, and you’re safe again. The hostel is being taken care of. None of the guests got hurt. Tourism might be down for a couple months but…” You shrug. “It’s the end of the busiest season anyway, and I have enough savings that I’m not going to worry.”

Steve shakes his head at you, then turns to look at the screens. He doesn’t seem to be actually reading them, but he puts his hands on his hips as he stares at a spinning scan of your hand and wrist.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

He turns back. He’s silent for a few seconds as he watches you fidget with the hem of the blanket in your lap. “No,” Steve finally replies. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

When he doesn’t move, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You’re not dressed in a normal hospital gown—someone has put you in leggings and a tunic of some kind—but you still shiver when your bare feet touch the floor.

“Y/N—” Steve limps towards you, holding both hands out to steady you if you lose your balance. You don’t, and he stops a few feet away.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steve,” you say. You start to close the distance between the two of you even more. “Not a single minute.”

“Volim te,” Steve murmurs.

You freeze, now within arm’s reach. “What?”

“Volim te.”

Your brain is working a mile a minute to catch up with what he’s said. Steve shifts in place, wincing as he transfers the weight to his injured leg.

“You should get that checked out,” you quietly tell him, glancing down at his leg.

He stares at you, as if he was expecting a different response. You know he was, but you’re suddenly so overwhelmed by everything that it’s the first thing out of your mouth.

“I—” You close your eyes and shake your head, letting out a small self-conscious chuckle. “I’m sorry. I love you too, Steve. I do. I love you. I don’t— I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m just worried—”

He cuts you off by stepping into your space and cupping your face with one hand. His fingers thread up into your hair and he tilts your head back so he can press his lips to yours. Your arms fall limp at your sides for a second, but then your brain catches up. You close your eyes and reach up to put one hand on the back of his neck. The other slides around his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses you.

Steve’s body is warm and though he winces with pain, then pulls away slightly to touch his fingers to his busted lip, neither one of you actually moves away from the other. You stay close enough to feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs.

“And you need a doctor,” you reply.

He smiles a little, more just pressing his lips together than anything, and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes again when he lingers.

“Don’t go,” he says as you step away.

You frown and crowd close again, and you place both hands on his chest. “Steve?”

“No. I mean, you should go now, but…” He struggles for a second, trying to find the words he wants to say, and you wait patiently. “What I meant was: Don’t go back to Croatia. Stay with me.”

“What about the hostel? What about Ana and the guests?”

“I’ve heard you say a thousand times that she could probably run the place on her own. Plus, it’s the end of the busiest season, and after everything that’s happened, tourism will probably be low. You said it yourself.”

Steve reaches up to pull your hands off of him, but he holds them and rubs little circles over your knuckles with his thumbs. He watches you carefully, giving you his full attention. His eyes are deep and blue, and the crinkle between his eyebrows has disappeared completely now that he’s sure you’re okay.

“So, what? I’d stay here in Wakanda? What would I do?” you ask, frowning. “They don’t really have tourists here, do they? It’s not like they need a hostel.”

“No, but I need a partner.”

“Don’t you already have partners, Steve? What about the Falcon? Or Black Widow? Or even your friend that you told me about—James? Isn’t he a superhero, too?”

Shaking his head, he answers, “That’s not the kind of partner I need, Y/N. I don’t need a partner to fight with. I need a partner that I can live with. Someone to make a home with.”

You stare at him for a second, allowing your brain to process what he’s just said, and then you give him a slow, sly smile. Inside, you’re giddy and jumping up and down, but all you do is pull your hands in a little more so he has to step closer to you.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” His ears are starting to turn a bright shade of pink, and it’s beginning to creep along his cheekbones as well, just above his beard.

Steve’s still holding your hands captive, so you simply raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a place to live here in Wakanda? Or are we going to be staying here in my hospital room until you find one?”

He shrugs and grins back at you. “King T’Challa gave me an apartment.”

“The king gave you an apartment?” You pull your hands away and step back. You can’t hide your disbelief, though deep down, you figure it’s very likely that the king tried to give Steve more. He’s a hero, even if most of the world doesn’t believe it.

“The princess was just in here going over your medical information, and you’re shocked that he gave me an apartment?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You gape at him even more. “You’re kidding. Steve, that was not—”

“Princess Shuri. She’s made most of the technology around here, and she oversees the recovery of important patients. Like you,” he adds.

“If I’d known—”

He leans in and kisses your forehead again. “You don’t need to bow or anything. They don’t do that here, though I’m sure she’d appreciate a thank you the next time you see her. Maybe compliment one of her inventions. T’Challa says she likes that.”

“The next time?” you hiss. “Steve—”

This time, he laughs at you. It’s a full-bodied laugh, unlike the sparse chuckles you’ve gotten out of him since his return, and you relax. You smile, too, a real smile that makes your cheeks ache as you press your burning face against his chest. Steve wraps his arms around you. His body shakes as he laughs, but he quickly settles down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you tell him, not letting go. In fact, you hug him tighter around the waist with both arms.

“Me too. Come on, ljubavi. Let’s go home.”

Dobro jutro = Good morning

Kako vam mogu pomoći? = How can I help you?

Govorite li engleski? = Do you speak English?

Dobor dan = Good afternoon

Molim = Please

Dragi = Darling

Volim te = I love you

Ljubavi = Love/my love

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium @delicatecapnerd

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passionwillow · 3 months ago

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Helping Hand

Hi babes! Getting another request off the list tonight. This one is so cute to me ugh. Reader is friends with Chris and notices a handsome SWAT officer while they're on a case together.. Chris is more than willing to help.

Warnings: Mentions of a school threat, no one hurt.

You met Chris while she was with the K9 unit. Being two women in such a department, you bonded instantly. When she tried out and left for SWAT, you missed your friend. But seeing her succeed was the best.

You guys kept in touch off and on, and when a bomb threat came in for a school, you were both called up in your respected departments.

You didn't even see or notice her until after the call, once you swept the building with your dog. The building was cleared and the kids were safe with their parents.

You were loading your dog back up when her familiar voice caught your attention. "Y/N? Is that you?"

You turned and grinned at the familiar woman, her hair still short and smile bright. You were quick to hug her and catch up, Chris inviting you to a BBQ with 20-David later that night.

You agreed, eager to see your old friend, and went over late at night after your shift.

Everyone was still there, people from all different teams of SWAT present. You found Chris in the back and spent the night drinking and chatting, Chris introducing you to a few people that came by. Deacon, Hondo, and Street were familiar faces to you.

But one man in particular caught your eye. He was older, tall and built and had the prettiest blue eyes you'd even seen.

"Who is that?" You asked Chris later that night. Or early morning, you'd been there a while. She introduced him as Dominique Luca, 3rd generation SWAT and the nicest guy on the planet.

You innocently mentioned how cute you found him, and Chris needed no further invitation. She slipped away while you were chatting with Street and pulled Luca aside, telling him her old friend was intrigued.

Luca, surprised and a little flustered, came over as you were grabbing your coat to leave, introducing himself with his trademark bright smile.

His personality, his sweetness, made you even more interested, and it wasn't long before he was asking you out for coffee, then lunch. Dinner followed, and soon you were head over heels with each other.

Chris was quite proud of her handiwork.

#swat cbs #swat #swat x reader #dominique luca #christina alonso #chris alonso #dominique luca x plus sized reader #dominique luca x reader

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anitalenia · 2 years ago

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━━━ 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 ₓ˚. ୭

pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader

synopsis: your nerves were shot at hearing the yells of your beloved. you sat upstairs, sulking in your own worry… good thing Lloyd Hansen was there to make it all better.

content includes: mentions of death and what Lloyd does in his free time, sweetheart!reader, soft!lloyd, dom!lloyd, sub!reader, heavy daddy kink because I know Lloyd bout that life, pussy rubbing through panties, pet names like honey, sweetheart, baby girl, princess, pretty, pretty girl, hand holding 💖, sweet kisses, dirty talk af, but it’s also kind of affectionate dirty talk 😭, probably ooc Lloyd

warnings: sexual content 18+, small mention of Lloyd killing someone, a lot of cussing because it’s Lloyd

authors note: Hi everyone! I actually made this a long time ago, but I never finished it. However, I decided that it wasn’t bad enough that I needed to rewrite the entire thing, so I left it as it was and just added an ending. Also, apologies if the ending seems kind of rushed, I didn’t really know to finish it 😭

LINKS ੈ♡˳·˖✶ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 | 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒔

⤷ LET ME MAKE IT BETTER, continue reading

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT bite your lip in anxiety at hearing Lloyds yelling all the way from downstairs. You hated hearing him yell, so accustomed, spoiled even, to his loving coos and gentle whispers. He was angry at his subordinates, yet again, for doing something not good enough to his liking. He always preferred doing things his way. You didn’t know what he was mad about, and you didn’t really want to. Lloyd did his best to keep you away from that side of him, from that side of his life, but that didn’t mean you were naive to the fact it existed.

He reserved his caring side for you, naturally, making sure to leave the guns and murder outside the bedroom door when he would walk in late at night to snuggle up with you. You were thankful for that. But the specks of blood coating his neck and hands, sometimes even smeared across his cheeks, kept you all-too-aware of exactly why you were able to sleep in a two storied mansion on lavish silk sheets.

But, to be fair, you knew what you signed up for when you agreed to be with him.

“Listen to this, you goddamn idiotic pieces of shit. The next time you don’t do your fucking jobs, I’m going to blow your fucking brains out all over that fucking wall! And if you think I’m kidding…”

There was a pause, before a boom sounded from down the stairs that had you jumping out of your skin.

“…I’m not. So, kids, I suggest you listen when I tell you to do something. That way, we can avoid another incident like dead, little Carlos over here. Now get the hell out of my office… make daddy proud.”

You heard the door slam shut; not even meaning to hold your breath until you felt your chest start to burn. You let out a slow exhale, trying to calm your racing nerves. You hated yelling, hated when Lloyd got mad, hated when he let the stress of his job get to him. It made your skin crawl with worry. You clutched the pink blanket between your fingers, sitting on the edge of the bed now, television paused on whatever you were watching before you heard the yelling.

In fact, you were so enraptured in trying to calm yourself down you didn’t even hear the heavy thud of boots on the staircase until they were right outside the door. Your eyes snapped to the direction of the sound once you heard the doorknob squeak, the large frame of Lloyd Hansen quickly filling the threshold once he opened the door and stepped inside the room.

You swallowed down your nerves, his blue eyes quickly meeting yours as he raised his head up, already looking for your face, the one thing that could calm him down during times like this. You ignored the dots of dried blood under his chin, the dried splotch on his forehead. You gave him a sweet, small smile instead, hoping you seemed convincing enough for him to believe you were oblivious to what you just heard.

“There you are…” He cooed in that sweet voice of his reserved for you (and only you), completely different from the murderous tone he wore just moments earlier. A genuine smile lit up on his face as he made his way towards you, wearing that black collared shirt you loved so much, the one that clung to his muscles almost better than you did. You couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips when he scooped you up into his broad arms, shoving his face into your neck and tossing you both down onto the mattress.

You landed on your back, a giddy smile on your glossy lips when he quickly adjusted your positions so he was sitting down and you were sitting up on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he lay his head on your shoulder with a content hum, his eyes closed and small smile playing on his lips. Your legs spread around the thickness of his thighs.

His mustache tickled your skin, and for a brief moment you forgot about everything you were just thinking about, the smell of his sweet cologne hitting your nose and making your tense shoulders relax against him. Having him close like this just made you feel so much better. And with the way he leaned into you, you could only assume he felt the same.

His hands rubbed your back slowly, palms already finding their way under the baggy shirt you wore to feel your skin (one of his of course). Almost like they were taking in the fact that you were actually there, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin on his rough palms to ground him back to reality. Yes, you were real, you were there, right in his arms. Yes, you were okay, and you were so warm.

You snuggled up against him at the tingling feeling, remembering the yelling and worrying that had plagued your thoughts. You tightened your hold around his neck, secretly hoping your hugs could make him feel the silent plea you sent his way. please, stop being so stressed. I’m right here with you. You knew Lloyd would be angry with himself if he knew you overheard him, even though it wasn’t even his fault.

“How’s my pretty girl doin’, hmm?” He hummed into your skin, planting a soft kiss under your ear then leaning his head back so he could look at you clearly. Even sitting on his lap he was still so much bigger than you, muscles surrounding your frame, your head meeting his nose. Looking up into his gentle eyes, a look you knew you were the only person to ever see, you wanted to tell him that no, you weren’t doing so good at the moment, that he had worried you, even if he didn’t mean to, tell him that you heard everything and that you were sorry he was under so much stress.

His hands slid to your waist, thumbs rubbing over the pudge of your stomach. You couldn’t stop the slight frown taking over your features at the thought, but you quickly gave him a little smile to deter him. Still, you didn’t want beating himself up over something you did.

“I’m better now that you’re here… I missed you…” You whispered, leaning down and placing your head on his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat thrum. And it’s not like you lied, not really. You were happy he was here, you did miss him. You sighed, taking one of his big hands off your waist and intertwining it with yours, cradling it to your chest like he was a fragile boy you were trying to console. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, but it was unclear if that was because you wanted to make him feel better, or yourself.

He was quick to tighten the grip, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

He furrowed his brows at that though, noticing your dejected demeanor and that frown adorning your beautiful lips. Being as astute in body language as he was, it was only natural for him to notice the way you looked so… not you when he first walked into the room. He noticed it as soon as he laid eyes on you, but he figured you were just tired. It was late after all, almost midnight. His heart had bloomed at the thought of you staying up to wait for him, but vanished just as quickly once he disliked the idea of you staying up to wait for him, especially if you were tired.

He let go of your hand, albeit reluctantly, softly using it to tilt your head up to look at him instead. His concerned eyes met yours once you fluttered them open, and despite the situation he felt his heart leap at the sight. Yours did the same.

“I missed you more, gorgeous. Not a second goes by I don’t. Now, are you gonna tell me what’s got you all pouty? You know you can’t lie to me, honey…” He raised his brows in a gentle, but firm warning, holding your chin gently between his fingers so you couldn’t look away from his piercing gaze. You frowned at that, realizing your joyful facade wasn’t as good as you thought it was.

You felt your resolve crumble at the way he looked at you, his eyes worriedly staring into yours, waiting for some sort of response that would hopefully ease his concern. You hated him looking at you like that, like he was the one that caused you harm.

You just gave him a smile, hoping it’d soften the blow of what you were about to say. You didn’t want him to think it was his fault, but you knew it didn’t matter what you wanted when it came to Lloyd Hansens protectiveness over you.

“I just…” You started, voice trailing off as your eyes drifted to the crème colored wall behind Lloyds head, his gaze too intense for you to look into. You didn’t want to make him mad, or worse, regretful. You sighed dejectedly, knowing he wouldn’t let this go. Lloyd couldn’t help but nudge your chin up some more at that, your reluctance making him even more nervous and concerned.

“Go on, you just what? You can tell me, honey…” He urged, eager to know what had ruined his pretty girls mood.

You looked back into his eyes, your arms tightening around his neck to comfort the both of you.

“I just… I wish you didn’t get so stressed out about things. I hate it when you yell…” You murmured, looking down at his chin again once you decided you couldn’t handle seeing the inevitable disappointment in his gaze, at himself and you. You, for eavesdropping on something you shouldn’t. You laid your cheek on his chest again, holding him tighter to make up for it.

Ah, there it is. Lloyd suddenly took note of the paused television, right in the middle of your favorite series. Remembering when he noticed your tense posture only trained eyes like his could pick up when he first walked in. Of course that’s what it was. God, he was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should’ve known better than to bring that shit to the house this late. He figured you’d be sleeping, but, fuck, he should’ve known better.

He clenched his jaw, eyes closing tensely, angry with himself for letting you hear him like that. His precious girl wasn’t supposed to see that side of him, and he’d always been so careful...

“Fuck, honey, you weren’t supposed to hear that… I am so sorry you heard that, sweetheart…” He wrapped himself around you, holding you as tight as he could, hoping to ease your stress. He gave you that sweet voice you loved, but you could hear the frustration in his tone, directed at himself. You smiled against him, bitterly almost because you knew he would only blame himself even though you were the one trying to hear something you weren’t supposed to. Still, you were relieved you didn’t get scolded.

You sank into him like water, molding into him, inhaling his scent.

“It’s not your fault… I was listening when I shouldn’t have… I just heard you yell and I got worried… I don’t like it when you’re mad…” You voice was muffled against the black cotton of his shirt, but he heard it anyway and it made his heart wrench. He tightened his hold on you, cradling you like a fragile baby bird. He was pissed at himself for letting you hear that. He’ll be sure to kill every last one of the men he dealt with tonight for bringing that bullshit to his home. A mistake like this will not get made again. He promised to keep you away from that side of his life, promised he’d keep you safe, that you’d never have to worry about a thing as long as he was with you. But yet, here you were on the verge of tears after being exposed to his lifestyle, even if it was just for a few minutes. That was why he kept you in the dark when it came to this sort of thing, you were too precious for his world.

He fucked up. And because of that, he’ll be all too eager to fire a bullet into those fuckheads brains tomorrow. After all, who were those men if not disposable?

“Shh shh shh, honey. I know you didn’t mean it… but daddy should’ve known better than to raise his voice loud enough for his baby to hear… It’s all right, my precious girl. You don’t needa worry that pretty little head of yours anymore… Daddy’s here now and he promises to never yell around you again… my sweet girl.” He laid a doting kiss into your hair, rocking you back and forth to hope soothe you. His heart ached at the thought of you worrying about him, scared because of him. He rocked you in his solid hold like a baby, cooing and whispering words of sugar into your ear to make you feel better.

And, like it always did, it managed to make your heart flutter and cheeks glow with a smile. Still, you were weary. You kissed his cheek, hating the furrowed brows that caused a worried wrinkle between his eyes.

“Thank you… just don’t leave again, tonight, please? I want you to stay with me…” You mumbled almost shyly, a bashful hue heating up your cheeks when Lloyd gave you a stunning smile, his hands sliding down from your waist to rub your hips. His rough palms scraped against the band of your panties.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine. Daddy missed you too much to leave again… I’m yours for the rest of the night.” He cooed, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead that had your lips stretching into a thankful smile. A smile he loved to see.

“Aww, there’s that pretty smile I love so much… Come on, show me that gorgeous smile of yours, honey…” Lloyd encouraged, teasingly, trying to make eye contact when you tried to hide your face again. His attempts at making you feel better were working, and despite the lingering annoyance at himself he couldn’t help but be grateful for your better mood, your laughter like sprinkles of sugar to his ears. You giggled when his hands came up and gently grabbed your wrists, holding them away from your face so he could look at you clearly.

And look at you he did. He looked at your beautiful eyes, your beautiful skin, your beautiful hair, your beautiful smile. Just beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. His perfect girl, his precious, his little ray of sunshine that lit up the dark cave he thrived in. Nothing was better than you, not even hearing the screams of a man getting his teeth ripped out could make him smile like you did. He was just so fucking lucky.

You pressed yourself into him, always getting sheepish at the way he looked you despite the two years of you being together. You never got used to it. You wrapped your arms back around his neck, his hands falling back down to your waist with a content smile on his lips.

“Are you sure you’re okay, now? I don’t want you stressed…” You murmured worriedly, frowning up at him as your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Lloyd exhaled at the pleasurable sensation, a playful smirk twitching at the corner of his lips as he leaned down until his nose was just brushing yours. He pushed you down until you were laying flat on your back, his arms wrapped around your midsection and holding you to his chest. He was laid out on top of you, your legs still wrapped around his hips. You had absolutely no complaints.

“Awww, does my girl need some more reassurance?” He babbled into your ear in a playful tone, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, not caring if your hair tickled his cheeks.

You pouted, wanting a serious answer out of him so you could rest easy.

“Lloyd, I’m serious!” You whined, gripping his arms (which you noticed were much bigger than your dainty hands), trying to look at him, but he didn’t budge. His shoulders just shook in a low laugh, warm breath hitting your neck.

“Ah, ah, ah. What’s my name, pretty?” He teased into your ear, his hand sliding out from under your back to rub the skin of your exposed thigh from the way the shirt had ridden up. You tried not to hyper fixate on the tingling sensation that followed in his fingertips, but suddenly found it hard to focus when his breath was hitting your collarbone and his warm hand was tracing the skin of your leg like he was petting precious velvet.

You swallowed, your leg tightening around his hip once his fingers teased higher.

“I’m sorry… daddy.” You mumbled apologetically, turning your head to look at him even though you couldn’t. Your chin rubbed his hair; you could feel the pull of his lips turning into a smile on your skin.

“There you go. Let’s not make that mistake again, okay pretty girl. Daddy doesn’t like slip ups.” He raised his head from your neck, his hand stopping its soothing motion as he brought his hand up and booped your nose. You giggled at that, making him smile as he brought his hand back down to your plushy thigh. He had a smile on his face, his cerulean eyes circling with a lustful look that was all too familiar to you. A look you saw just about every night before Lloyd Hansen would fuck your brains out.

“Now that that’s over with, I think Daddy has some apologizing to do, don’t you? After all, he got his pretty girl all worried… wouldn’t it only be fair for him to be the one to make it all better, too?” He had a thinly veiled look of amusement on his face, a knowing look glinting in his eye like a knife under a bright light as his hand crept the t-shirt over your stomach, sliding it up, up, up… until it was bunched below your breasts, your stomach completely exposed to his hungry gaze.

You subtly bunched the fabric of his shirt in your fists, breath stopping when his large hand pressed down on your stomach. You swallowed again, feeling completely at Lloyd Hansens mercy despite him not even doing anything yet. Your eyes flickered down to the amused, cocky smile pulling at lips, shiny from when his tongue flicked out and licked them.

He inhaled through his teeth, eyes narrowing down at you playfully. He knew he had you in the palm of his hand, knowing your own body and mind better than you did. He knew that with the right tone, the right smile, the right words, you’d be nothing but a mindless puddle for him. He loved being the only person that could bring out that lovey-dovey side of you so easily.

His other arm, still wrapped around your waist from when he hugged you, tightened around you so your back was arched, breasts more in his face just like he wanted. But, he’d have to get those another time.

“Ooh, my gorgeous girl. My gorgeous, gorgeous girl. You just don’t know what you do to me…” He whispered, his head lowering down to your neck to place kisses along the skin there. You felt yourself blush at the praise, legs tightening around his waist as if suddenly remembering he was laid out on top you, his black slack covered pelvis perfectly lined up with yours. Your jaw clenched when he nibbled on your skin, knowing that it would leave a purple bruise in the morning Lloyd was going to love to tease you about.

You let out a barely audible sigh when Lloyd pulled the skin between his teeth, his mustache burning your neck the longer he nuzzled into it. You could feel yourself slip further into the hazy spell he trapped you in, hips barely lifting to rub against his, your eyes closed in bliss at the pleasurable sparks that shot through your neck that almost had your legs twitching.

Lloyd always loved how sensitive you were.

You could feel yourself growing more needy by the second, the whole reason why this was even happening slowly disappearing from your memory like grains of sand being helplessly drowned away by the ocean… your mind going muggy with the scent of Lloyd Hansen’s cool water cologne.

Once you were nearly a whining mess, hands gripping the back of his hair and legs tight around his waist, did he lean his head back to admire the pink marks lining your neck. Your eyes opened at the loss of his lips on you, cool air meeting your neck from where his mouth had been. You couldn’t help but pout.

“Mmm, I still think I have more apologizing to do, don’t you? I had my pretty girl all stressed out… all worried about little ol’ me…” He barley chuckled at the way you numbly nodded your head along with his words, expression already blissed out from him kissing you alone. He leaned down and gave you a much needed peck on the lips, one which had you craving for more.

His hand slid down your stomach, very slowly, your skin tingling in his path. Your hips wiggled against his, feeling his semi-hard cock poking the thin outside of your cotton pink panties. God, it was a gift how he could get you wet so easily.

“open your legs for daddy, honey. He’s feeling especially apologetic… go on, let daddy make you feel better… let him finger your little pussy until all you can think about is how good he’s making you feel… how I’m making you feel… come on, there ya’ go, pretty. ” He mumbled crudely, a smug smirk playing on his lips when he heard you let out a low whine at his vulgarity. His eyes were glued to your thighs, watching as you slowly spread them as wide as you could given the position, somehow still shy under that predatory look in his eyes and that arrogant smirk on his chiseled face.

You followed his instructions, legs open wide enough for his hand to fit through. He was still on top of you, but more on the side now so he could get a perfect view of your pussy. His hand had reached the top of your pelvis, slowing massaging the skin there in what you thought was a ploy to tease you further. He could be such an asshole sometimes, even when he was trying to apologize.

“Daddy…please just…” You whined, too shy to say what you wanted, but too needy to not say anything at all. Your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades so hard you were sure you pierced the fabric of his shirt, but knowing Lloyd he’d place it in a picture frame so he could look at it everyday. He loved it when things got messy.

Lloyd hummed out a small laugh at your neediness, but didn’t bother questioning you with that shit-eating grin like he usually would. He wanted to tease you some more, ask what it was you wanted despite knowing it, have you beg and cry for his cock like he does every other night. But tonight, he’d have to make an exception… and it was his own damn fault.

“Okay, pretty girl… just for tonight I’m gonna be nice and give you what you want… Daddy made a stupid mistake, and now he’s gonna make it all better, right, honey?” He asked rhetorically, looking up at your needy expression and hazy, doleful eyes that glittered with want. God, he loved your fucking eyes.

You let out a small hum that sounded more like a pathetic whimper, your hand sliding down his muscled bicep as he looked back down at where his hand was sitting comfortably just above where you needed him most. Your panties were still on, clinging to the patch of wetness Lloyd so easily brought out of you.

Lloyd crept his hand down, slowly over your panties, taking his third finger and rubbing your wet slit from the outside of your underwear. Tingles erupted over your body, your thighs almost closing when his finger nail glazed your clit through your folds.

“Mmm… just like that…” You whined breathlessly, bucking your hips accidentally at the sensitivity of your pussy. Your stomach churned pleasurably, nails digging into Lloyds strong arm and shoulder as your eyes closed from the erotic sensation tingling down your inner thighs.

“Just like that, pretty girl? Is daddy making you feel good, rubbing his finger on your little pussy… that’s right, honey, daddys sorry.” Lloyd cooed with a pouty expression, almost mocking you if you had seen it, as he looked back up and stared at the way your glossy lips parted, at the way your eyes closed tightly together and your eyebrows furrowed, in a state of complete euphoria already.

You swore his words sparked right through you as your skin buzzed gleefully in response. You let out a whimper at that, biting your lip to quiet yourself. His finger rubbed with more force now, the tip of it pushing past your soft folds, the wetness in your panties wetting his hand the more he pressed into you. You didn’t know what it was, but the friction of your panties combined with the constant rubbing of Lloyds finger had you keening, your back arching and sweet, breathy moans leaving your pink lips as your mind went foggy with pleasure, pleasure that only Lloyd could give you.

Lloyd loved seeing you like this, especially when he’s really done nothing to you to deserve such a response. But he knew how sensitive you were, how easily his touches affected you, how easily he could make you wet. Yeah, he loved your sensitive little pussy and the way he had you wrapped around his finger… little did you know he was more whipped than you.

He felt how hard he was in his slacks, but knew tonight wasn’t about him. He had fucked up and scared his precious baby girl, and he needed to make up for it.

Lloyd put his face in your neck, his mustache tickling your skin as his lips rose up to your ear. You instinctively leaned into his cheek, whining right into his ear as he pushed harder into your dripping folds, rubbing up against your puffy clit completely.

“You like that, pretty girl… my baby girl loves her daddy, doesn’t she? Daddy knows he fucked up, honey, daddy knows he scared his baby. Mmm, but this pussy knows how sorry I am, doesn’t she?” Lloyd snickered into your skin, mumbling right into your ear with any nasty thought he had as he looked back down at his hand, where it shined under the light from how wet it was.

You moaned loudly at his words, your pelvis thrashing as he rubbed your clit through your panties, your legs twitching and stuttered gasps escaping your throat. God, he wasn’t even actually touching you and you were ready to cum all over his hand already. It just felt so good, your toes were curled and your legs were almost thrashing, trying to escape the painful pleasure Lloyd was rubbing into your sopping clit.

Your arm was gripping his elbow, your body wanting to pull his hand away and give your clit some relief. But he was so much stronger than you, bigger than you, and you were nothing but a helpless body stuck underneath his hard chest, his left hand digging into your scalp to hold your head in his shoulder.

“O-oh god, daddy, please, please, please…” You rambled into his ear, all choked up as tears prickled your eyes and high pitched moans rang in his head. He was grinning to himself, almost laughing at the way you were begging him. Any other night he’d be teasing you relentlessly, and as much as he wanted to he knew he couldn’t, not tonight. Tonight he was going to help you cum with no arguments. His princess deserved that, after all.

“Awww, does my baby wanna cum? Well, go ahead, princess, I’m not stopping you. Daddy’s not done saying sorry quite yet…” Lloyd whispered with a simpering smile, solely rubbing your clit in hard circular motions, knowing just what you liked.

You moaned loudly, your thighs shutting around Lloyd’s hand, only trapping him inside your legs to apply even more pressure to your sensitive clit. Your panties were soaked through, his palm a watery mess the longer it rubbed against your slit.

“Come on, cum for daddy. Prove to your daddy he’s forgiven… that’s right princess, let it go…” Lloyd mumbled into your ear encouragingly, unable to take his hand out from between your wet thighs. He stared at the side of your face from where it was thrown back against the black sheets, giving small kisses to your cheek and neck as he felt your back arch into him and your thighs tighten around his hand.

“Ohh, daddy… fuck!” You cried as your pussy flowed with the result of your powerful orgasm, your legs shaking and your fingers clutching the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Your skin was hot and blotchy as you breathed heavily, tears soaking into your heated cheeks as small moans fluttered from your dry lips in the aftershock of it all. Your chest ached, your pussy sore and throbbing as you felt wetness leak under your sticky thighs.

Your body slumped against the bed tiredly, completely wiped out and exhausted from having your pussy rubbed alone. Lloyd took his hand and slowly trailed it up your exposed stomach, leaving a shiny trail of your juices that glimmered under the light as his hand wrapped around your cheeks.

You whined at that, way too hot for him to be grabbing your face with his sticky hand and turning it towards his gloating expression. You needed at least five minutes to recover, but with Lloyd you should’ve known by now that he’d never be a second away from you to let you rest.

You looked into his blue eyes with your tired ones, your left hand coming up and weakly grabbing his wrist that held your face. You were too tired to try and take it off.

You moaned oh so softly as he brought his face down and kissed you, a slow, hot kiss that poured all of his apology into you, showing you he was sorry, he hated that you had to hear that, he hoped he made you feel better, that it would never happen again. You knew that, you didn’t blame him, you understood that was just his work. But you were so grateful he decided to show it.

When he separated from you, your top lip burning slightly from his mustache, you hummed and wrapped your leg around him, bringing him into your embrace so you could be as close as possible to him. Your pussy was still sore, your thighs still wet and sticky from your orgasm, but you needed him right now, loved feeling him against you as contentment flooded you.

You could tell he felt the same as his arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing your smaller frame into him and releasing a heavy sigh; you were his serenity.

“I am sorry, sweetheart. I’ll never bring that shit around you again, you hear me? Never.” He mumbled into your hair, squeezing you harder liked you’d disappear from him if he wasn’t holding onto you.

You smiled at that, exhaustion weighing down on you as the result of his very expressive apology.

“I know, daddy.” You murmured sweetly, already closing your eyes and sinking into him completely, not caring about the mess you made.

“Take a nap, sweetheart. You’re gonna need your rest. After all, daddy’s not done apologizing yet for making his baby worry so much, now is he?”

Oh god.

thanks for reading! feel free to tell me if you have any Lloyd story suggestions. I kind of love writing for him 😫 but don’t worry I do have more in the works. likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. and always remember that you’re loved and important <3

#˚ ༘♡.𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙝.˖⁺.#the gray man #the gray man imagine #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen x plus size reader #lloyd hansen x reader #Chris Evans #sierra six x reader #sierra six imagine #Sierra six

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