#GOD I LOVE MCCREE

[sesameowo]

Finally young Genji and Hanzo doodles!

Along side with their boyfriends ofc 💖

[gaycragula]

Art by yy6242 on DeviantArt

There was a collection of ingredients and materials on the counter in front of you. Bowls, spoons, pans, flour, sugar, the basic materials for a cake. Mercy had asked you to make one, and she told Cassidy to help.

Said cowboy was in the cupboard looking for the actual cake mix. You’d been waiting for what seemed like forever before you groaned. “God Cass, did you get lost in there?” You ask, heading over to the small closet in the corner of the kitchen.

[mythicmin]

Overwatch NSFW Alphabet(s)

MDNI!! If you are under the age of 18, please DNI. Character requests are OPEN. Just slide into my ask box and specify which character you’d like to see :)

𝑱𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆 𝑴𝒄𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒆 / 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒚

A = Aftercare ;

McCree is a firm believer in aftercare. Chances are you aren’t getting up to do ANYTHING for at least an hour. (unless he has somewhere he needs to rush to.) Need to pee? He’s gonna carry you. Thirsty? Hungry? Give him a second, he’ll be right back with your favorite drink/snack.

B = Body part ;

You can’t look me dead in my eyes and tell me he isn’t an ass man. He’s practically obsessed with it. Doesn’t matter where you’re at or who you’re with, chances are he’s got his hand on your ass or in your back pocket.

C = Cum ;

Bro is definitely a slut for facials if he can’t cum inside of you. There’s just something possessive about it, like he’s marking you as his.

D = Dirty secret ;

Secretly wants to get topped, cmon he’s a cocky little shit. Put him in his place and make him beg for you. ❤︎︎

E = Experience ;

I am a firm believer in thinking he’s got some kind of old fashioned way of thinking. He knows what he likes, but doesn’t have much experience with it. I know we all love fuckboy McCree, but him being a virgin makes me giggle.

F = Favorite position ;

Doggie. Need I say more?

G = Goofy ;

Bro is a whole clown in bed and you can’t change my mind. He knows how to act serious when need be, but he always wants to see you smile. Even if he’s balls deep in you.

H = Hair ;

I think he manscapes a bit, he’s never bare though. There’s always some sort of hair framing his cock, clean shaven just isn’t his style.

I = Intimacy ;

Lil western baby treats you like the princess/prince you are. Sure he loves fucking your brains out, but making love to you is another favorite past time.

J = Jack off / Masterbate ;

I don’t really know to be honest, I feel like he’d think he’s too busy to get himself off. But maybe it’s just hidden cockiness that only you can get him off.

K = Kink ;

Anal. I know this man eats ass as well. I just know it. Bro also definitely has a daddy kink. (or maybe that’s bc i’m projecting bc he’s so fine.)

L = Location ;

Anywhere.

M = Motivation ;

He really gets going when you slowly touch his arms/chest while making eye contact.

N = No ;

Sadly, threesomes. I think he’s just too possessive.

O = Oral ;

He loves both giving and receiving, but he enjoys making you fall apart with his mouth. Playing with that cigar should’ve warned you he was gonna be a beast with his tongue.

P = Pace ;

Whichever you want. He can deliver both fast or slow.

Q = Quickie ;

Loves them. Especially if y’all are out and about doing something.

R = Risk ;

He literally doesn’t care if y’all get caught with him balls deep in you.

S = Stamina ;

I feel like he cums fairly fast, but can go for a few rounds.

T = Toys ;

He’s iffy on them. He wants to be the one to make you feel good, but watching you thrash against the vibrator he’s holding gets him feeling some typa way.

U = Unfair ;

He’s so mean sometimes, bro is a WHOLE ASS tease and he knows it.

V = Volume ;

I don’t feel like he’s overly loud in the moaning or groaning criteria, but he’s definitely a smooth talker blowing your back in.

W = Wild card ;

Pull his hair while he’s giving you head and bro is putty in your hands.

X = X-ray ;

6” soft , a lil over 7” hard. (circumcised)

Y = Yearning ;

I SWEAR THIS MAN CAN TURN HIS SEX DRIVE OFF AND ON DEPENDING ON HOW MUCH OF A COCKY BASTARD HE WANTS TO BE.

Z = Zzz ;

Always waits until you’re asleep first.

god i love this man.

hope you enjoyed!! lmk who y’all wanna see next ! ❤︎︎

[sorchathered]

Sweet Home Texas pt 1.

Summary- it’s here! Chapter one of my new series/ my submission for my birthday Rom-Com challenge! I am straying from the plot of Sweet Home Alabama a bit but I hope you all love it!

Pairing-Jake “Hangman” Seresin x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin), Bradley Bradshaw x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin)

Warnings- language, drinking, eventual smut

Stepping out of her shitty rental car into the dimly lit honky tonk parking lot Ella Mccree can already feel the pain of a headache forming behind her eyes. She flew out from San Diego on a red eye to get to this shithole, filled with enough anger to fly the damn plane herself. She swore when she was here the last time that she would never set foot in this damn town again and yet here she is, pushing through the sweaty bodies of horn dog cowboys and navy pilots to find the bane of her existence.

He’s here of course, holding court by the pool tables, looking every bit the cocky asshole he presents himself to be. He’s always been a bit of a douche, that was part of his appeal; well until it wasn’t. She couldn't help the way her stomach flipped as she looked at him, the memories flooding her mind would make anyone blush. First kiss, first time, her first everything had been with Jake Seresin, he was supposed to be the only one, but that hadn’t worked out as planned. Nothing had where they were concerned.

She squared her shoulders, his pretty boy looks didn’t work on her anymore and she was here in this tacky bar for a reason, he wouldn’t distract her. In her ridiculously expensive pumps and form fitting black suit she marched over to him and dropped her briefcase in the middle of the pool table, a chorus of what the hells ringing out as she rounds on him, perfectly manicured finger poking him in the chest, shock clearly written all over his face before he schools his features. She’d caught him by surprise; good, maybe this time he’d actually listen.

“Jake! You stubborn redneck hick, I swear to God if I have to cut your damn hand off and sign these papers myself I will.” If he was phased by her colorful vocabulary he didn’t show it, simply throwing back the rest of his beer and sitting it on the corner of the nearest table as he looked her over, the mischief in his eyes evident in his gaze.

“Hey baby, it’s been a while. How’re things at home?” He said with a grin, knowing it would absolutely irritate the shit out of her, he loved riling her up, it was almost like he had a death wish sometimes but then again being an ex fighter pilot just confirmed that.

“Hey. Baby?! Are you kidding me right now?! Oooh!! You are the most annoying person on the planet!” She said shaking her head jerkily and balling her hands into fists, she needed to get it together. There was a reason to be here, get it done and get the hell out of this town, don’t let him distract you Ella you’re better than this.

Someone behind her said something to the extent of damn I like this girl and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a brunette woman sending impressed looks her way. Well at least someone was entertained, she thought.

She leaned across him to grab the papers from her briefcase, his body stiffening under her and she knew despite his cool exterior she had him rattled. She ran a hand across his uniform top, noticing the falter in his grin as he blinked at her and slammed the stack of papers into his chest.

“I have sent these damn papers through your lawyer 4 times in the past 6 months and they keep coming back unsigned, if you are so incompetent that you can’t use a pen, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to fly a jet, given your lack of a brain. Sign the damn papers Jake, it’s been 3 years. You very clearly aren’t interested in being a husband so why the hell won't you just divorce me?”

Everyone around them seems to go quiet at this, none of his coworkers even knew he had been in a serious relationship, let alone married.

He sticks a toothpick between his lips and pretends to mull over her words as she taps her heel on the sticky bar floor. She already knows what he’s going to say, the same bullshit line he’s given her their entire life. “You know damn well why Ella Bella, because I promised to love you til the day you die and as far as I can tell you’re still breathin’ so we’re still married.”

She rakes a hand through her wavy red hair and gives him a look that could burn the world down. “If I could go back knowing what I know now I’d have never made that damn promise. Stop holding me hostage and sign the damn papers, I’m not leaving town until you do.” She yanks up her bag and stomps out towards the exit, everyone in the group parting like the Red Sea to let her out. Meanwhile Jake still seems cool as a cucumber, completely unbothered as he lines up his next shot and chuckles as he watches her walk out of the bar.

“Uh you planning on giving us an explanation Hangman?” Natasha Trace is the first to speak up, she does enjoy seeing him brought down a peg from time to time but she’s pretty sure she’s seen him more upset over what was for lunch at the dining facility than he is right now.

“Oh that? Eh she’ll be alright, Ella is all bark and no bite. She knows how much I love her, just gotta remind her is all, she and I will be just fine when she comes to her senses.” He seems awfully sure of himself, but she’d noticed something he clearly didn’t. A big ass diamond ring on her ring finger, no wedding band in sight. She has a thought to say something but thinks better of it; let him crash and burn all on his own and maybe invite the girl out for lunch and some gossip if she can find out her number. Jake’s hometown is just a few miles out from the Kingsville Navy base they’re stationed at, maybe an old friend of his has her info, she files that away for tomorrow’s problems and grabs another drink.

Ella is heated, she clumsily fumbles her keys by her car door as she curses, she knew he wouldn’t go for it but damnit if she didn’t hope he’d come to his senses. They’d been split for almost three years?! What was keeping him from letting her go? Pride? Idiocy?! She didn’t have time for this, she had plans of her own and they didn’t include begging her delusional husband for a divorce for the millionth time.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket as she finally got the car unlocked and settled into the seat. She heaved a sigh out and put on her brightest smile, answering the face time call with fake enthusiasm.

“Well? How’d he take it?” the raspy voice on the other side of the line says, tan skin and bronze hair and those puppy dog eyes she loves so much gazes at her over the screen, and he can tell she’s pissed. “About as well as I thought. I’m gonna be here a few more days I reckon, maybe I can get one of them to get him to pull his head out of his ass, because it definitely didn’t work like I hoped.” She says the last words with a waver in her voice, she hates that she’s tearing up over this.

Bradley Bradshaw sighs over the screen and runs his hand over his face, he knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. “Need me to come down there? I can hop a flight? We can order a pizza and get trashed.”

As good as that sounds, his presence would only make it worse, and they both know it.

“No baby, it’s ok. I’ll see you soon alright? I just need to go to my hotel and sleep, I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe call Natasha and see if she can help me with some intel though? She seemed pretty interested in what was going on, and might be an ally.”

He knows Natasha Trace well, and she definitely would be very helpful if he asked, so he nods his head in agreement and ends the call with I love yous and promises of a back rub when she gets home.

He knows the bomb that’s going to go off as soon as Seresin finds out everything, but he also knows the real reason Jake won’t give Ella what she wants. It’s guilt plain and simple, and Bradley isn’t interested in watching his fiancée get hurt by his former rival anymore. Only Ella knows the whole truth, but are either men ready for it?

A/N- this is gonna be a doozy y’all, prepare for these three to be put through the ringer! Next week we’ll get some more on Jake and Ella’s backstory and why they fell apart, hope you enjoyed chapter one!

🏷️ tagging- @attapullman @seitmai @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @jessicab1991 @roosterforme @bradshawssugarbaby @mynameismckenziemae

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Yanderes Aizawa, Hanzo, McCree, and Toji like to pretend you don't know what your clit is for.

I Ain't As Good As I Once Was

“This is your pussy. This is your pretty little pussy. You might have touched her before, but I’ll teach you how to spoil her.”

God, I love sad older men.

Content Warnings: forced cunnilingus (female receiving), overstimulation (female), c*mming in pants, fingering, kidnapping themes, self-flagellation (Hanzo), worship (Hanzo), dirty talk, mommy kink (Toji), implied gambling addiction, your implied age is -26 (Toji), Age gap, neglect on account of gambling addiction, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, (Toji) forced pregnancy? (Toji), dubious consent (Toji)

Not recommended for those under eighteen.

You try and touch yourself to show that you know how to make yourself cum. You've been doing this for years.

Aizawa

Aizawa swats your hand. No, no. You won't do it properly. You won't do it until you shake, cry, and run down your thighs. But he will. He won't overstimulate you if you don't want him to. He will work you through your orgasm, though. No matter how much you claw, beg, and squirm. You'd wanted to get off, and Aizawa will ensure you get every last bit out of this. He'll make sure you come in his mouth, make sure your cum slides down his chin. No matter how angry you are at yourself. No matter how hurt you feel. He can be tender—can make those thighs burn and those tits jiggle in a way you can't. "This is your clit, sweet girl. I'm gonna make it purr for you."

The last remains of his words drive into your ears as his mouth finds yours. The finger in your panties swept back and forth over the smooth, leathery skin of your clit the way a slow tide would swathe and flee a shoreline.

"Nn!" Fizzy pleasure bloomed in warm, scattered waves throughout your pelvis. You twitch forward the slightest amount, subtly humping yourself into a breathy, whining mess. "'s not a cat."

Aizawa draws a lazy circle around its sensitive edges, and your thoughts water.

"It can't—" Ah! "—caaan't purr." Your voice curled. It rose and wavered like a tilde symbol—building high and going all melted butter toward the end as you lurch into the wonderful crest of good he inspired. Your hips obeyed the spasms in your tummy and curled without decision or thought.

"It already is." It's practically vibrating. Singing.

"Can't you feel her purring?" Aizawa made the most agonizing, thigh-shuddering passes over your clit. You arch, arch (uhn, God!), arrrrrrrch into each one. Your clit is ringing, purring.

"Kitty's melting in my hand." She's really showing out for attention, wetting and trickling down his palm. Your small cravings are his responsibility, as were all your larger needs. He's your provider and caretaker. You rely on him for everything else, so why not this? When are you going to learn that Daddy does it better? He can satisfy them better than you ever could.

"Don't—don't call it that."

"But it purrs."

Oh! Oh, oh! It—it—oh, please, god, oh. He's using his nails, teeth, whatever he has. Aizawa sucks a bruise right into your neck. You shiver, squeal, and wriggle. How could a neck be this sensitive?

Aizawa doesn't budge. His heart thumps as you push at him, half-hearted. Enamored with any short amount of contact, Aizawa hums. You twist away from that, too, the sensation foreign on your skin. Aizawa takes a deep huff of your neck (your scent) and falls onto you like a dead weight. The new position traps his hand down the front of your panties and you underneath him.

"If it purrs, then it's a kitty. This cute kitty makes you a queen. And a purring queen means it's time for a litter." He's still working on you—working your clit and mons. You're soaking. You're hot. You arch into his hands, desperate, nearly out of your mind.

"Why do you have to be such a kinky bastard?"

"Because you like it." His stubble scrapes against your neck. Aizawa does it often, notably during 'quiet moments,' so you'll familiarize the sensation with safety.

Or so you suspect.

The brambly term of affection came often, but from what you gathered, it reserved itself for special occasions (you're convinced he stole it from his cats). When cramps left you withered and spent, Aizawa lifted you from the lonely little corner you'd carved for yourself underneath the kotatsu and reoriented you onto his lap for something to lean on—something to wring your grief into, should you need it. Shouta said he could take it—that he wouldn't mind—and had the scars to prove it, namely, the one beneath his eye. It was hard to argue in the face of something so tangible. Yet, it left a sour feeling of worms in your gut.

You're in pain. You don't want to be pain for someone else. You don't want to hurt him—he's never hurt you.

Just because he can doesn't mean he should.

He's pushing you forward, wanting you on your knees. "Because it gets your kitty panting."

It vibrated.

"W-who said I liked it?" Your tummy tremors and sweats as his fingers trace those hidden valleys.

"She did." Aizawa dove in for a quick, lascivious kiss. "She purred so sweetly." He lapped at your clit, hot and moist and delicious. "It must be love."

Calls your vagina 'kitty.'

He talks to it (which perturbs and delights you to no end). Cum for me, kitty. Isn't Daddy treating you nicely?

You know in your soul you aren't the 'kitty' he's referring to. Aizawa only called you kitty when you were topping. He had a habit of going into a deep mantra whenever you did. "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Aizawa sighed under his breath, sometimes moaned, and others thinly whined as you rode him and as he watched through sexed eyes progressively getting lower and lower until they would eventually close. He'd seize shortly after. And if you didn't stop, Aizawa gasped it (half-heartedly attempting to shuffle out from under you, gently pushing at your coasting thighs with jittery palms. Outside of that, you were 'kitten.'

When she obeys, Aizawa gives her kisses and licks—so many that you'd stammer and beg him to stop. He attacks with fervor, and with your weak-kneed body, he pins you there, grunts, and gives you mouthfuls of his tongue, which leads you to beg, this time more openly.

Aizawa repeatedly kissed the top of your vulva, where your clit lay beyond its folds. Such an obedient kitty. —kiss— Such a perfect darling. So good. —kiss— So perfect.

He doesn't torture you for too long. Aizawa (generally) won't overstimulate you unless you want him to. He'll even apologize. He just had to give his kitty her due.

The guiltiest (second to Toji) in pretending you're too naive and innocent to know what your clit is for, let alone how to use it. He'll smack your hand away (reawakening memories of your father swatting your chubby little hands when they had something they shouldn't).

You can insist you know what you're doing, and he'll insist you don't.

"Feel these?" You touch your outer labia. Aizawa's hand is over yours, guiding it. "These are your pretty lips." Gummy, soft, and perfect for his teeth. He'd use them for pillows if you'd let him. You wouldn't, though. There's no way Aizawa could get close enough to smell you without getting a taste.

"They'd look prettier curing my insomnia." In other words, he's telling you to ride him until he passes out, or rather, throwing out an invitation. Your lips have erased his dry eye and lifted his depression. Simply gorgeous.

"How would I..." How could your vaginal lips cure someone's depression?

"Simple," He's against your ear. His hair gave you shivers as it fanned your neck. "You sit on my face," Together, your hands rode parted lips. They kneaded love into your skin that settled in your ovaries. "and rut." Your hips went forward with a gasp, unexpected and on cue. No matter the situation, Aizawa never failed to sound like a college professor three years away from retirement. He speaks to you as he would his colleagues and students. There is no bedroom voice, growl, or husk other than his natural warmth—warmth that made you swallow from the very lips he made you touch. Made you restless on his lap.

"If you knead them gently," he says, "they'll make you feel nice." Your knees knock when Aizawa focuses on the entrance hidden in your labia, circling it. "But not as nice as this," Aizawa pats your pussy, sending ripples through your body.

Slap!

Something liquid-warm fires across your hipbones, following a path up your spine, reminding you of when Aizawa kissed you. You call his name in a panic. What is this, and why is it delicious? Unadulterated joy tore through you like a storm in Texas-May. It stole your tongue, and the thoughts it couldn't finish—stole the bones from your body. The ache reverberating in your core was a flash-bang replacing everything but Shouta's name with bright white. It rang like a bell from the ovaries out, telling the rest of your body it was in love. It scares you. "Shouta—"

Slap!

"You're alright, pretty. You're going to be a big girl and cum, that's all."

Slap!

Oh, God.

"Intense, isn't it?" His chin sits in the crook of your neck. Aizawa watched you stutter after his hand and gently convulse.

Slap!

Your body hums like a Ford Mustang at a stop light. It lurched into each tap—tipping over the crosswalk markings in the concrete, eager and desperate for him to take you over the edge. Nervous foot on the petal, it waited for green.

"Come on, pretty girl. Almost there."

Slap!

Your thighs snap shut. Pleasure so soft and sweet spreads throughout your body. The ache becomes ecstasy, and the guilt becomes glee. It swells and sways like storm clouds in New Orleans, easily hitting your lungs and filling you with the finest summer rain.

Did you think for a second Aizawa wouldn't praise you? "Yes, kitten. Yes, kitty." He's agreeing with all your sobbed gibberish, rubbing you out because he knows you won't. His finger is hard on your clit when you buck and shimmy to escape the rush—the pleasure that won't stop knocking. Again, he won't take you past what you can handle, but you're riding that coaster to the end: no stops or pauses. You're getting every single clench, every tooth-chattering, leg-shaking, hip-raising flood of absolute 'God, yes,' that follows.

Aizawa was a decent man—was. It's wrong. It goes against every code, the oath he'd taken with the acceptance of his license. He made excuses for the inexcusable. Every day he went out and fought for freedom while ignoring yours. Swift on his legs when avenging the cries of the innocent, Shouta let yours fall on deaf ears.

Hanzo

Hnng. But forced cunnilingus. Dubcon, only because you're overstimulated, and Hanzo is stubborn. If you haven't squirted, he hasn't done his job. He had his pride as a man to uphold.

Hanzo raises your hand to his lips. He kisses it, clasps it, and restrains it to the bed. "Let me tend to you. So long as you warm my bed, you won't lift a finger." He kissed your neck and collarbone. "Not for your pleasure," Hanzo gently spread your labia. "Not for mine. This time it is for you, my queen."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your mind fills itself with visions of Hanzo taking you. He never has—claimed he could never 'defile' you. That didn't stop him from fingering your clit, drawing you to orgasm, or turning you into a mess of nerve endings.

"You are divine." You're a gift from the gods. Hanzo prayed they would keep him from succumbing to temptation, but it was useless. He had never been able to resist a challenge, and this time would be no different. His prayers didn't stop his cock from sliding against his expensive sheets, wishing it were your body his seed had coated, giving the legacy he'd spent a lifetime chasing.

His queen enjoyed testing him, denying him his duty as a husband. Why trouble yourself with matters such as these when he is so capable? He had solved many puzzles and navigated treacherous waters with ease, yet she seemed to think his skills were limited to a bow and arrow. Do you truly believe he cannot satisfy your needs?

Hanzo fondled your clitoris. "This is a husband's duty."

He moved down between your thighs.

"This is a wife's duty." He said as you whimpered. "To moan as a man pleasures you. To lie back and know your body is in his hands. To take your pleasure and offer your own." His tongue found you. You writhed against the bed, unable to stop your body's rhythm from matching his tongue's motions.

"Allow me." Hanzo touched your clit the way you'd tried to, his tongue deep in your core.

You wouldn't know the first thing about settling your body's aches. That was Hanzo's business. Your hands need only grab onto his hair when it all becomes too much for you.

Hanzo is skilled with a tongue, with a cock, with a razor-edged sword.

"Let me tend to what is mine."

Hanzo kisses your thighs, thighs that a man has never kissed. Thighs that tremble and shake so terribly you fear for your health. You can't breathe. Your heart is pounding, and you feel your mind slipping away. Colors bleed into the corner of your vision, static and buzzing like an old TV.

But Hanzo keeps kissing, licking. Your thoughts slur, and your tongue is no better.

'an...H-han.. c'n.. cn't... Your eyes roll—your back arches. Tears run into your hairline; Hanzo tightens his grip on your hand as your other one blindly scrabbles at his bedsheets. "H-han! Z-z—Oh, my God..." A wash of electricity ravaged your body. Pleasure so raw and sweet your voice croaks out hoarsely, love pouring from your lips in a flood of passionate syllables.

His grasp remains firm as you jerk into his waiting tongue. You try not to. You try and fight your body's natural curl toward the very thing bathing it in pleasure—foolish woman. Hanzo tongued harder and doubled his hold to keep you pinned throughout your cries and gurgles.

Cry for me, my Goddess, my queen, so I may worship you harder. Seek my hand if you are overwhelmed. Cling to me. I promise to be your source of strength and comfort. Security is the least of a husband's duties. Make me strive for the breath of freedom, then deny it to me all at once. Show me with cries that I am worthy, yet prove with the heat in your thighs that I am nothing.

Unable to praise you to the extent he'd like, Hanzo returned your moans from deep between your clenched thighs. He licks harder and faster, and he just isn't stopping. You deserve all this and more—to drown in your own wet and swallow hard enough to see heaven.

So beautiful. —Lick— So generous to me, my queen.

Your body is a waterfall that Hanzo would happily kneel underneath. Hanzo was no Buddhist, but he believed you could purify his wretched soul. In you, he'd find redemption. Your heat could make a blind man see. Surely, it could cleanse the stain of his past.

No matter how many passes his tongue made, you had more to give.

You scratch his sheets, and Hanzo has never been so jealous. The skin of his back tingles at the mere thought of hovering above you, thrusting into you - warm, soft, and perfect as you carve into his back and warm his ear with your crying breaths.

You can feel your breath swelling, becoming a low chant of pleasure as Hanzo continues to lap at the valley between your hips. Hanzo rewards your pussy for each hungry gulp as it comes and comes and comes by flicking his tongue over its pounding entrance. Wildly twitching, it swallowed deep and hungry—a trail of wet escaped. Hanzo licked that too.

"Can't… Hanzo, can't…." You reach out desperately for the headboard, using the bed covers to help propel you forward. When this failed, you mustered all of your strength and used your core to drive yourself forward, shoving his head with a surprising force. With each attempt, you inched closer and closer toward freedom.

His hand grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him as he licks and sucks. You can feel yourself trembling on the edge of something big—an adventure you aren't ready to take.

Hanzo watches you above your knees; he looks you in the eyes as you gasp and wheeze. You plead, and the archer licks your outer lips. Hanzo sucks your clit, hums. Your words gargle in the back of your throat.

The hand in his hair turns into a fist. Hanzo moaned.

At some point, he mumbled in your folds, snippets of "goddess" and "queen" as his hips repeatedly struck the mattress. The groans he's making have your ovaries flushing, your cunt fluttering. Hanzo's panting by the end, but he doesn't stop licking.

Hanzo, for all his dignity and grace, wants you to put him on his knees. Make him work and beg for air. Then, smother him.

Can you imagine Hanzo pinning you to the bed, claiming he's wronged you and needs to atone? You can scream that you forgive him, that it's unnecessary, but he won't accept it. What good is forgiveness if he doesn't earn it?

Or, he goes down on you before every Overwatch mission to "strengthen his mind and body" to better prepare.

"H-Hanzo. Why—" You bit your finger to keep from moaning (squirming). You don't need any bruises. Your hips still bear the thick shape of his fingers.

"Why not just—ah!—just train more?"

"You are the only meditation I need."

Hanzo’s bed once filled itself with women from all walks of Asia. Sojiro filled his bed with women from all walks of Asia. Differing accents, differing traditions. Same economic status. None of them would have been good enough for his father. The thirst for an heir may not have originally been his own, but the need still burned beneath his painted skin. The dragons grew restless, for Hanzo’s desire was their own. The dragon lord had never truly given up on his future children.

Unconsciously plays into your worship kink

Step on him

Physically a virgin, spiritually a whore

Not inexperienced, per se. The terms by which Hanzo lost his virtue weren't his own, so Hanzo ignored them.

Vanilla in theory and theory alone. Missionary, no anal. Ever. But he'd clean his spend from your 'temple' (inside and out) in gratitude and penance. First, for deeming him worthy of such a privilege. Second, for dirtying you and finishing without your consent.

He's kneeled at your feet, kissing them and offering his sacrifice.

It's all amusement and spectacle until he asks what punishment you deem suitable for his transgression.

Is he serious? You came three times in the last forty minutes.

You should be at his feet. You could never cum like that on your own.

Hanzo decides for you

You're shuffling off the bed when he reaches for his bow

He expects you to use honorifics after his name. You are his wife, and he is your husband. You must address him with respect.

Call him 'lord Hanzo' in jest, and the archer closes in on himself. Memories of a life he'd long abandoned close in on all sides. He kindly asks that you don't tease him in such ways. You know nothing of his past. Hanzo doesn't blame you for his reaction to your words; you only meant to play with him, as a wife should. Humor, and not ridicule. (Not that he thought himself undeserving of it. If a divine creature decided he needed humbling, who was he to feel any different?

Hanzo shies from titles that place him above you, "master, King, God, etc."

Jesse McCree

"Now," Jesse stood with his hands resting on his belt, the light from its buckle glinting off into your eyes and reflecting the terror you felt. His hips tilt to one side as he observes you silently. "Why doncha tell me again what you were hopin' to accomplish with them tiny little hands o' yours."

Panic flashed in your eyes because Jesse widened his stance and raised his hands.

You still scramble further up the bed.

"Nah, ya ain't in trouble," Jesse said as he removed his hat and tossed it on the side of your dresser. Always mindful of Ma's etiquette lessons, Jesse knew better than to enter a lady's room wearing his hat. Was impolite. You don't enter a lady's room 'less you come naked. "Pity she didn't teach me to knock," he added with a smile.

Confusion twisted your features. Jesse often said things that you weren't sure how to interpret.

His slow smile told you he was a man looking out after his own. It made your heart beat faster. He wasn't here to hurt you.

"Just show Uncle Jesse what you were up to 'fore I came in." He moved closer, the bed frame squeaking beneath his boots. "Lemme see what you got," he said. Jesse reached out, and you flinched.

But his hands only brushed a finger across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. "Ya got somethin' special in those hands," he said gently as his fingers pressed against your skin.

You become aware of the hands covering your modesty. You glance at your bare thighs out of habit when Jesse references the heat between them.

"Come on now, don't get all bashful," He said before you could try to hide under the blankets. You had a way of scurrying off like a little mole whenever he teased you too much. Shy, sweet, and gentle. He could eat you up for days.

"Show me how ya touch 'er when you're all alone."

You pull your cami over your thighs to deter those mocha-brown eyes. Jesse raised a brow that was just as dark. "Ya ain't got nothin' to hide, girl. I already seen it all." He said. Good-natured, southern charm oozed from his every sentence. Yet, you still felt like you were standing in the principal's office and caught doing something wrong.

But Jesse smiled as though what he said was meant to make you feel better. He leaned down, kissing your forehead as if it were the world's most natural thing.

"I'm… I'm loud.." Your knees draw together.

His smile was lopsided. "Good thing all the gunfire and explosions drown out hearing." He said, referencing the hearing aids he wore in his ears.

Did you think a little thing like that would ever be a problem? Bless your sweet little heart.

You weren't sure what to say. 'I'm sorry?' Would he think you're pitying him?

But he just let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Don't sweat it, sugar." A large palm ruffled your hair affectionately. "Now, why don't you show Uncle Jess what you were playin' with?" He asked again, his voice a little more playful this time.

"You..you really can't hear?" You fidgeted with the hem of your cami, not wanting to make eye contact.

His grin widened, "Not a thing." Jessie lied. "I'll even take 'em out if ya want." He started to take off his hearing aids, but you stopped him.

"No, no! That's... That's not necessary." You said quickly.

"Well, alright then." He said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"How's 'bout you let this old cowboy have that weapon yer holdin'?"

Weapon?

"Oh, she's lethal." Jesse winced playfully. "One could take out a man if it's aimed properly."

"She?" You asked, curious.

Jesse held back the brunt of his laughter. "Yer pussy, sugar. It's a she."

Your expression has him losing his composure. He had the courtesy to turn away and chuckle. The insult on your face had him in stitches.

"Well, shoot." He said after a while, finally managing to compose himself. "I ain't mean to make no fun of ya. Just thought you'd like to know your kitty got a name."

Your body ran hot, and your heart thumped against your chest. You can't believe how Jesse made you feel with just a few words and one little joke. You could see the mischievous glint in his eyes and knew he would make you squirm again.

"Respectfully, I'm gonna need to see those hands of yours." He said, that same southern gentleness in his voice like before.

Jesse whistled as your hands lifted, low and appreciative.

"I'll be damned..." You're sweet enough to top his apple pie. If he had it, Jesse would've held his hat to his chest; those thighs could carry him through the Arizona desert.

"You can take my breath away any day," Jesse said with a grin. He drank those thighs ten times over before they'd self-consciously shut. He was drunk on you as he was on moonshine.

"Hands back on your holster. Show me how you use it."

With his boot planted firmly on the mattress, brown eyes staring you down, you touched yourself. You'd jumped at the first brush of a hesitant finger against the peach fuzz clothing your mons—prickly and on its way to growing—cold fingers startling skin that hardly ever felt a temperature change. You've never been more thankful for those stubborn hairs that always grew back despite your best efforts. It offered a level of decency—privacy—during a private act made public. You map your vulva, getting a feel for it. Your legs spread as you become more comfortable with the movements and sensations that kiss you nightly when the house is sleep—as comfortable as you could be with a man like Jesse McCree looming over you.

You were very aware of him—his presence, his smell. You could feel him in your veins as you touched yourself, and he watched. He dared not move a muscle lest it scared you off.

The situation might be foreign, but the sweetness in your abdomen isn't. The toe-curling warmth made you want to rock and hum into its beautiful calm. It took the stress out of a very stressful situation. How odd to find yourself tense in the middle of your go-to stress relief.

You moved with clinical precision, not for pleasure but to show Jesse you weren't helpless. You felt like the Tin Man—joints stiff, robotic, and locking together when thoughts of what you were doing and in front of whom caught up to you. The need to defend yourself from any infantilism oiled them and kept them going. Your breath gets heavier as the pleasure builds inside of you, regardless.

Could you even cum like this?

Doubtful.

There wasn't anything too exciting about tracing up and down your lips, still wet from the 'exercise,' Jesse interrupted. Your clit still pulsed despite cologne tickling your nose like spice (or maybe because of it).

He was so close.

With the scent of tobacco and leather on his clothes, Jesse Mccree had your undivided attention. You can't look at him, but the thought of staring into those deep brown eyes while you circled your clit and cried the prettiest you could make you swallow down below. Your clit throbs, and you massage it before you can stop yourself. You play with the hood, fragile and unsure. It isn't enough, but you don't want to appear indecent. God, if only you could throw open your legs and—

"That ain't how ya do it. Touchin' 'er like that, bet you don't even know what she's called."

Of course, you do. It's a vagina. Not a 'her,' not a 'she.' You told him so.

"Aw, now. You'll hurt 'er feelings. Tell me what you call 'er, darl.'"

"It… it's my vagina." You emphasize the word 'it.'

Jesse shook his head. Shoulda knew you'd call 'er somethin' dull and childish.

"Move aside, sugar." Jesse motioned for you to stand. A cigarillo was all that was needed to complete the toothy grin as he sat, cybernetic hand hitting his thigh. "Come sit on Papa's lap. He's gon' show ya what she's for. How to touch 'er."

You stood uncertain before him, blanket held to your sex. The red fabric pooled between your legs and onto the floor.

"I don't bite, sugar." He said. It's the softest you'd ever heard him.

Your lips thin to a pensive line.

This is a bad idea. But the prospect of this man sipping you like he did his whiskey was thrilling.

You look past him toward his hat on the dresser, and the blanket drops. So do Jesse's eyes. But that grin? It stretches to something boyish, handsome, and white. He savors, just as you'd hoped; he savored himself so fully your legs ache to cross over each other. He's fixated on your vagina. You hope he can't see it swallow.

"This is your little pussy." Jesse spread you open with two fingers. You squirm on his thick thighs. He's mountainous and warm against your back; you hardly cover two-thirds of his broad chest. He must spray cologne directly on it. Woodsy Pine and Old Spice took you to a campfire with marshmallows and Southern folklore. You don't think about the chestnut hairs peeking out of his flannel. You can't. You'll die.

"This is your pretty little pussy." He rubbed your fatty, wet lips with four fingers—rough and widened in a V-shape.

Your vag—your pussy clenches, tingly.

"You may have touched 'er before," He swiped your clit side-to-side, hitting nerve endings that had you bucking on his tan, human finger. "but I'll teach you how to spoil 'er." He dipped one deep inside.

"And fill 'er up."

Your cries are as helpless as your hips as they help him fuck your pussy open. He stretches her so good you can't recall when you began referring to her as a she. You fuck yourself on his fingers until pleasure gushes from your cunt.

An involuntary gasp escapes your lips as he collects his first load in his fingers. You're there.

"You wanna cum, and I can make it happen, sugar." Jesse held you as you shook. Robotic arm slung over your waist, he let you use his finger to draw out your end. He pumped into you occasionally—lazy and matching your weakening thrusts.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' greedy. Uncle Jesse will let ya have seconds if ya want 'em."

You just keep goin', doncha? You're a lil fighter—pushin' those shuddery hips forward even as you gasp and choke.

Ya weren't lyin'. Yer loud. Not in a cutesy way, either. You're raw, unapologetic.

Jesse loves it.

Nothin' worse than a woman who does all that dainty shit.

You cried so long and hard your voice tapered into a husk.

"These fingers were made for women. Made for touchin' 'em." Any internalized shame blew in the wind when Jesse used his thumb to swipe your sensitive clit. You groan like a cavewoman. Guttural, primal.

"Made for makin' 'em come. You gonna come for me again?"

You're already trembling, unable to get your tongue working as you tighten on his fingers.

"There ya go, sugar. Cum like I'm gettin' it in. Goin' six inches deep and cummin' hard on 'er lips." Jesse pumped his fingers deep again as you began panting, panicking—he was insistent on getting you off—a knot of orgasm tightened in your waist until you snapped like a whip against your backside and seized.

"Ain't nothing wrong with cryin'."

You can't stop shaking. Crying. Tears fall off your chin, and you don't know where they came from. At this moment, you're a helpless baby—wailing and hoping he understands. You need him to fuck the soul from your body. You need him to stop.

"I've got somethin' of a confession," Mccree said, his drawl thickening with each syllable. The thumb on your clit sent his words through one ear and out the other. He's knuckle-deep in your cunt and seated near your pleasure spot as he slowly curls into it. You curl with him, hot and whining.

"I may be aurally challenged, but I can still hear you, sugar." You're drooling in every figurative sense—mentally and emotionally sloshed from the pump of his heavy fingers. "Every time you whisper my name at night." He said, his tone low and warm.

Your thighs clamp around his hand.

Fiery shame swept like lava and left coals on your chest, leaving you with prickly, uncomfortable goosebumps.

Oh, now we can't have that.

You've stopped chasing his hand, chasin' that release you'd wanted so bad.

A gentleman, Jesse puts in enough work for both of you. If you aren't meetin' him, he'll have to try that much harder, won't 'e?

God, what would your family think? They'd shun you. Getting off to thoughts of your captor's big, impossibly wide hands instead of biting them.

This needs to stop.

Oh, but you can't. You're grinding on his finger again, helpless to stop. It's so good. It's too fucking good.

"That's it. Get it, sugar." Jesse starts flying in and out of your thighs. Something coughs from your throat like a drowned victim spitting up water. You grab his wrist for stability and don't make it halfway around.

"That's what I like to fuckin' see," Jesse growled.

Fuck it. You'd let him pull your panties aside and cream your pussy right there on your bed with your family in the doorway for them to see every desperate clench it made, each spasm in the base of his cock as it emptied inside their precious daughter, sister, and loved one. They could watch the conception of their grandchild and niece/nephew for all you care.

"Jesse! Oh god. Feels good!"

"Sounds even better up close." Mccree chuckled. Breathy, strained. As if it'd come through gritted teeth. His cock pressed into your ass—hard and hot. He made no attempts to relieve it.

"You come to Uncle Jesse when your pussy needs some lovin', ya hear?"

He pulled out, leaving you so, so empty.

You quickly nodded. No, no. Please put it back! He'd stopped touching your clit.

Jesse doesn't leave you empty much longer now that he has an answer. "You let ol' Jess handle it. I'll give the lil lady what she wants."

You're too damn polite. Callin' 'im 'sir.' He ain't no 'sir.' Jesse would tell you to stop if he ain't like it so much.

He pretends to hate it, gives you grief about it, but let you come 'round askin' for somethin'. Jesse stops you mid-sentence and tells you to call 'im that thing he likes.

"Come on, honey. You'll make me feel old."

Your name might as well be 'pretty.'

"C'mere, pretty. Wanna show ya somethin' real quick."

Toji Fushiguro

It's one of those days.

Toji stood in your doorway, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He had a can of beer in his left hand and a race ticket in the other. You should be happy to see him. There's no milk, and your stomach could grow teeth and devour. Your heart drops instead. The paper had as many wrinkles as a white shirt straight from the dryer. Crumpled, meaning he'd lost. The one Toji wore was stretched and spent. He hadn't come home last night. A sour odor of alcohol told you why. Toji celebrated his losing streaks with bottles of sake at the bar. Usually, he'd be out looking for a job to 'make up what he lost,' as he'd always promised.

The hunt must've been unsuccessful if he had been back so soon.

Toji was bitter before he'd even come in the door. Catching you with your fingers in your pajama pants put him over the edge.

"What ya doin' touchin' what's mine?"

Toji scoffed when you continued giving him that owlish stare.

"Y'think I'm good for nothin', dont'cha." His posture remains loose and bored, his tone detached. The slip crinkled in his balled fist.

This isn't going to end well.

"Of course no—"

"You ain't gotta lie, Seven."

Toji was more superstitious than met the eye. He set you up in his home like a Maneki-Neko for good luck and fortune, laughable.

You aren't lucky. Trouble raced after you like tin cans on an exhaust pipe, with your situation to prove it.

Trouble stepped further into your room—swept across your floor like tumbleweed, kicking the ground with every slow, drunken step. Trouble knelt on your bed, knocked your plushies off to the side, and snatched your arm when you scurried.

"Y'think I'm a deadbeat." Trouble pulled you under him and ripped your pajamas off your hurling legs. His triceps bulged beneath his tee as his hips rolled into your cunt, wet and bare. He held you still to take each stubborn, mouth-watering rut. "Think I can't take care of ya anymore."

Toji's still beating the headboard into the wall as you quake around his thighs. Frantic hands tear at his upper back, tugging his shirt for him to go harder despite the worrying cracks and splinters of wood.

"'m gon' prove you wrong." Toji put his weight on his elbows and fucked you like he meant it. He'd buck forward and knock your eyes to your skull.

'God, yes,' is all you can think as he presses you into the mattress and shoves into you until you can't get air. 'More, more, more.'

"Gonna make you cum so hard you wet yourself," he growled in your ear. "Gonna make you scream and cry." And he did.

"Oh God, Toji!"

Toji rabbits at the first sign of tears. "I'm gonna fuck you right to hell."'

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God, oh—uhn!"

Spleck!

Your thighs squeeze and judder into his cock. Wetness dribbles past your lips regardless of how tightly you clench your legs. You cum hard—the spasms in your cunt deep and violent. So fucking slutty and messy.

"God!" The word tore from your throat in a ragged sob. Feral. Hysterical.

There's no way you should clamp this fiercely. It's been so long Toji let you tighten up. He needed to stretch you back out. This pussy should be loose and sticky always. A constant fullness to fill the pangs and help you forget your troubles.

You wanna be fucked.

You wanna be bred.

"A little girl like you don't know what you're doin'." Toji got between your thighs and licked you from slick perineum to juicy clit.

"Says you." In your head, you're pushing his face deeper into your sex, hand in his hair as you grind on his tongue. 'Show me, baby; show me. Show me what I'm too stupid to do.'

Toji eats you alive.

His fingers brush up your bum while he tongues you into orgasm. Toji piles your juices on his fingers and licks them clean, again and again.

"Lookit how excited she gets." Toji rests on his knees. The crotch of his sweatpants is a darker shade of black and damp from your sex.

"She can't quit talkin'." Spasming, spitting, and wetting.

His cock is visible, sitting on his lower left thigh, right above his knee. A footpath of the same dark shade runs down his left pant leg.

Did he cum? Did he cum just from eating you out? Was that fat, ruddy cockhead drooling over the very hint of your sex when he'd rutted against you before?

There's something so primal about him kneeling over you, your juices on his tongue, his cock jutting out so proudly, hung like a horse between your thighs. It makes you aware of just how filthy this whole act is, how raw.

You can smell yourself on him, and your legs self-consciously close.

"Still think you know how to get this pussy to clamp as she should?" Toji's voice was low and gruff.

"No." You whimpered.

"Then why the fuck are you playing with my clit?"

"I wasn't playing with it! I was just..."

"You won't even squeeze your thighs together without askin' when I'm finished," his lips close around your clit.

Toji licks every slippery skin fold and nibbles your clit until it's throbbing. You fuck his mouth with your hips, desperate. You reach deep, guttural tones no woman should.

Would nut if you called him 'sir.'

Call him 'sir,' and he'll call you 'ma'am.' Especially in bed. It's shamelessly kinky, given the age gap between you. Might just call you mommy if you're okay with it. You're still under your parent's insurance and barely have a driver's license. Your wisdom teeth haven't come in, and here this forty-year-old man was calling you mommy.

And if you are? Agreeable with it, that is? Toji does his best to make you one.

He missed out on Megumi. Thoughts of another child hadn't crossed his mind until he was deep in your green, twenty-something pussy calling you mommy in that aged murmur.

You love everything he's saying. "Gon' fuck a baby into your teenage pussy—get you pregnant." Toji liked to poke at your age. He'd call you a teenager when you're particularly difficult. Little girls can't talk to me like that. Those nights remained the same. Toji fucked you on the floor and bred you until you couldn't speak. Cum ran from your entrance in a thin, constant stream. Milky, thick-flowing, and filthy. You just need some good lovin'; that's all it is—needed attention. You didn't know how to ask for it without pitchin' a fit like a child.

Make-up sex where he'd hold your hands as your thighs shook. Toji made up for leaving the cabinets empty by leaving your thoughts emptier. Cramming you six inches full of excess and relief, Toji filled you over and over until debt became greed. He's slow, thorough—men his age typically were. Toji was no boy. Wasn't in no hurry to finish. Thrusting between your hips, deep and thick in your cunt and inches from your face, Toji murmured, "'m gon' set it right."

You love what he's saying so much your appreciation lands on the base of his cock and lower abdomen as you squirt. "Dirty little girl. Dirty teenage pussy, begging for her senpai's cum." He burns right through your chest.

The words, "What are you going to do about it?" sit on your tongue.

"Gonna breed that pussy good. Gon' get you pregnant. Get you knocked up." Toji tugs your legs up higher, pulling you into his body as he snaps his hips. He thrusts into you, quick and hard.

Give it to me, give it to me. Put a baby in me. Oh, God, fuck me!

"Pussy'll be so sweet with my cum between those pretty, swollen lips. Might just eat it. Might have to. Might be all the sugar I need."

Muscles jump in your lower belly. Toji grinned above you, rotten, when your pussy quivered. Toji is feral when he gets his face between your legs, unlike any man you've met. The enthusiasm for your pleasure as he dug, sucked, licked, and scraped with his tongue (all while his right hand held your slippery cunt open for him to discipline and drink down) was primal and terrifying. It had you there in minutes. He had no direction, no idea, and no technique. All he had was the hell-driven desire to please you—make you come fast and hard 'many times as he could before his tongue gave out.

Every little thing you told him to do. That's all he had. You asked for more, and he gave it. You tell him to scratch that itch between your thighs, and he knows exactly what that means—squeezing his cock into your too-small ass. From there, all you did was tell him what you wanted, and he performed like a dog with a bone.

Toji wasn't above holding you down so that you took your pleasure on his face, fingers, and lips.

No, this dog took every ounce of his strength and overpowered your body to ensure he got his pound of flesh. What sorta man was he if he couldn't please his woman? An embarrassment, that's what. You ain't gonna insult him and walk away with steady legs.

"Gonna ride that pussy, make it mine."

Ride me, baby. Oh, God, yes!

Toji hunkers over you—that thick, heady scent of sweat, cologne, and body heat. He smells good. "Bet this teenage cunt loves feeling like it's mature, getting filled and stretched into a mommy's pussy." He's telling you how you'll look so good with your freshly creamed pussy.

Wanna be slutty for you. Make this pussy creamy.

"Gon' get that cervix wet. You'd better drink up, girl."

God, you'll drink every last white drop of it. You're already spasming.

"There she goes talkin'. Swallowin’. She's thirsty." Toji tilts your face towards him. "Boy or girl? Which one ya like?"

You struggle—feebly pressing his chest with jellied wrists to get him up and off of you. Out of you. You have to keep yourself from melting outward and running onto the sheets when he snatches you up in his arms as if you were nothing and hemmed you to the bed, hemmed you to his chest in a bear hug, and fucked you. He caged you beneath him and held you there. You’re held down and bred. Pre-cum drooled out of you onto the pillow like the real thing. Each thrust sent your hips violently into him, bobbing, circling, and returning to meet him as you rubbed your slick folds against his cock when it slipped out. He had you humping his wet dick like a bitch in heat. That was you on him. He's covered in you. He hugged you so hard that the bed felt like a paper bag under you.

"Ain't no running. Y'gon' take this dick. Take this apology."

"Don't! Don't—" The fight to free your arms was heavy and impossible as he lined himself up just as quickly as he'd left. Eager to fill. Eager to please. Hands trapped between your sweaty bodies, you settle for pushing against his stifling weight despite rising to help him resettle himself. And God, do you feel like home. Comforting, warm. He can already smell Ma's cooking. Slick, like the blood of his bounties. 'Specially when his bosses demanded a trophy as proof of his service.

White. All you see are the whites of his eyes as Toji's cock overfilled you to bursting, assisted by your curved spine and lofted hips.

He does it so gently—sliding into you like a Spanish kiss. Indulgent. Letting you admire the breadth of him, the ridge of cockhead that made your walls flutter and sing as it moved through you like drugs flooding a bloodstream, peddling euphoria throughout every corner of your body until you were floating and light in the giddy breeze of his possession. He looks demonic, possessed. Your cunt groaned from how full it was, glutted. Feel-good chemicals left you gooey and barely conscious as he stroked into you, exactly where you needed him and weren't ready for him. The deep grinds into your G-spot had you losing your breath, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop fucking you.

Uhhhn, God. Your eyes flutter. Your walls squeeze him against your will. You could kiss him.

"N-noooo, you can't. Don't cum in my pussy." You moaned. "Don't—hnn!—don' cum..." Your arms close around his waist, hips arching and rocking like you couldn't decide what you wanted more, to push him off of you or get creampied in one go. Bred.

"Mommy, ya gotta tell me." Your pussy clamps. Fissures of resistance disappear like they never existed when Toji calls you "mommy" like it's a sin. He's whispering dirty in your ear as if he knew your secrets. As if he knew you were two pumps and one shuddery male moan away from pleading the exact opposite.

"Tell me, Mommy, so I can do it for you." Toji's voice had gone sugary-sweet and deep.

But no...no. Nnn. No. "You… can't...do that." It's cheating. He's cheating.

"Tell me how you want this baby."

God, it just feels so good. You want him to cream you. Breed you. You like the fantasy of it all (it gets you wetter than anything), but he isn't financially stable, and you're no mother.

"We can't! Not 'nough money." Your lips don't sing lullabies. They sang heartache and blues. Emotionally immature and mentally thin, you're no mother. The slightest inconvenience, and you're ready to cannonball off a bridge.

"Ain't what I asked ya." Toji put you in a headlock. Ears hot and pounding, you twist and thrash as best you can underneath him. He doesn't leave you much room to grapple—still bearing down on you with all his strength and thrusting. 'Overwhelming' couldn't begin to capture the wave of shivers washing over you. Toji scratches that itch inside of you so good it nearly hurts. God, it's good—the beating he gives that secret, special place you can never reach alone. Where fingers clench into knots, your womb feels like a fever. You're in heaven. Your thighs burn from all that friction. You're in hell. Your body wants nothing more than to let out a primal scream as you battle to cope with the intensity. It takes you a few moments to realize you are—hollering in absolute hysteria. You unclench your fingers long enough to shove fruitlessly at his chest, claw at his arms and pelvis.

The thick arms caging your head tighten. "Answer. Or I’ll put one in your backside."

"Girl!" You shouted—voice rough and strangled behind his grip.

"A lil princess just like 'er Mama." Toji bucked into you, closing his eyes with a groan. When they opened, they stared down at your hostile mouth. If there was one body part of yours Toji was fascinated by, it was your lips.

He's been staring at them while he fucked you, lust in his eyes. Toji watched them threaten and plead.

"You get off me, or I'll—" Your words clung thickly together, dragged in places they shouldn't as if they were moaned.

"I'll..." Your lashes fall to your cheeks as Toji moves down, nose rumbling softly with steamy breath as he latches onto a nipple and sucks.

Your cunt swallowed and sang; you rose to meet his next push. The way his tongue and teeth work together on that sensitive spot is enough to make you light-headed.

"I'll..."

Toji stared at you, expression unreadable as ever. "You'll what, Mommy?"

He watched 'em gasp and form his name. He needed 'em. Needed 'em more than his own mother's rotted eyes.

"You'll cum?" He ground into you, and you gasped.

"Yes." You wrapped your arms and legs around him. God, your skin was on fire.

Toji released your breast and latched onto your mouth instead, groaning against your lips. His tongue flicked inside, and you opened wide.

"H-harder. Toji, I'm—"

Ughn!

Toji hits it like he couldn't miss—rutting, grinding, and humping into that sacred spot. Your kiss had him rabbiting and murmuring, moaning, and biting. He was gasping. He was growing—swelling at the base of his cock. He was coming apart.

Seeing you thoroughly enjoy yourself and falling apart on his cock has Toji's hips faltering. Mama's never yelled for 'im quite like that before. He had mama screamin', had 'er eyes rollin' back. Had her thrusting on his cock like she wanted her green, little pussy filled—wanted his kid.

"Sound so good, Mommy." He's coming already, eyes shut as the first few spurts escape him. Toji's thrusts deepen each time you moan. He'd shiver, pushing hard into your g-spot. He spoiled it for every hunger pain while he was away.

"Hands." His voice shook with effort—the physical strain of staving himself off.

When you don't immediately respond, Toji's head rests on your shoulder—miserable like an old dog. "y'know I can't cum without 'em. Know I need 'em."

His breaths come in rough pants. "I'm gonna cum, Mommy. Imma go right up your pussy and spill my seed."

"Toji—" You squirm, "Toji, don't!" You'd damn near drooled as the first squirt of hot cum hit your pussy, unconsciously bucking into him for the umpteenth time.

You beg Toji not to cum inside you, hugging him and pumping those hips all the while. Desperately, at that. A man's gotta wonder.

"Let me apologize, mama," he said between labored breaths. "Let me give you this baby." His fingers pry into yours, clutching them against the mattress as he rutted and sighed into you. "Let me."

"No." You fight. "No, no, no, no, no! No. Don't!"

His thrusts pick up as you try and wrangle free.

"I forgive you, Toji! I forgive—"

Toji licked into your mouth, grabbed onto your hips, and emptied himself in a long, thick stream. He shivered in your arms through spurts and convulsions, letting you swallow his shuddered alphabet of husky groans.

You can't help but buck into each warm shot of his seed. You're a whore. And you're tired of pretending you're not.

You're still moaning for him not to cum inside you as he does just that, pushed up against your G-spot, gently grinding you toward an orgasm of your own.

He could've positioned himself at your cervix and got all nice and snug, but then he would've missed the sleepy look on your face. Eyelids hung low, mouth parted—sated, full, and still working that pussy against him, swallowing miserably around him because it hasn't cum. She will. He'll show ya he ain't useless, that he's good for somethin'.

Besides, they'll swim. He doesn't need to be lined up to hit a target. It'll be fine once you're shiverin' against him; you'll send 'em right where they need to be.

"Please don't, sir." You said, still thrusting through the zips and tapering shocks of your orgasm. Your arms are helpless, bumbling, and unresponsive.

'Sirs' nice and all, but he'd prefer 'Mister.'

Author’s Note: This was Valentine's gift for myself and I decided to share it. If this performs well, I'll finish the second installment. The next part will feature Erasermic, Bob Velseb, Daddy Dearest, Mommy Mearest, and a fourth character I haven't decided on.

Tips: Please consider tipping if you're well-fed. It would incentivize me to keep sharing. https://ko-fi.com/pumpknpie

©️pumpkin-pi-e | Do not copy, edit, paraphrase, plagiarize, translate, or borrow from my work. I do not give my consent for any of my works to be reposted. I only write on Tumblr. Should you find this anywhere else, please alert me because it was stolen.

For your listening pleasure:

The title was based on the song below.

Do Not Interact - Writers and blogs who actively write white-coded reader inserts (blush, turn red, a flush of color). I can’t eat at your table, and I don’t want you at mine. You will be blocked. Blank blogs will also be blocked.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

The Kids Aren't Alright: Werewolf!Cole Cassidy x Reader

I will never say no to werewolf cassidy/mccree, and if I do, kill me

Contains: Light werewolf transformation, blood, violence, drinking, self-deprecation, gunshot wounds

He had been so careful.

He’s sat at the edge of the base, back braced up against a rock, legs spread wide in front of him, his face settled in a pained scowl. He stared into nothingness, eyes trained somewhere on the waves that crashed onto the rocky shore just beneath him, the cliffside blocking his view of the darkness below.

God, he just wanted to sink into that darkness. He prayed for demonic hands to come up the cliff and drag him down, preferably to a cold chamber in hell.

The winds are chilly for a mid-summer night. Maybe it was the alcohol buzzing in his system, sitting in his stomach that was void of any food. His tanned skin was covered in goosebumps, but he made no effort in slugging his serape over his body to protect himself from the winds. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat next to him, having been full when he cracked the seal with his teeth and started drinking from it like that drunkard he is maybe an hour ago. The first sip always burned, but it was becoming less painful as the years went by, now really just drawing a bit of a tingle on the tip of his tongue whenever he drank.

Forgoing a glass, Cole wrapped his fingers around the cheaply designed glass neck, human fingers trembling ever so slightly in a mixture of unstable emotions as he rose the bottle to his lips. Tilting his head back, he allowed nearly half of a mouth full of bitter whiskey before he swallowed, nearly dropping the bottle to the rock beneath him. The glass still made a sharp clinking noise, nearly shattering the glass bottom.

But he didn’t care.

He fucked up. He royally fucked up and now he was paying the price.

He could feel it inside of him, the damn thing never dying no matter how much he tries to drown it with cheap alcohol that could wash paint and rust off of metals. It was like it was pacing inside of him, dragging its horrid claws along a stony wall, its eyes piercing through the dark. He could make out very little of the beast, but he knew it was him right down to the bloodied hands flexing and waiting to dig into something alive. Even now in his drunken state, he could still smell the blood from last night. It was like it had just been spilled right under his nose, the scent of copper stinging his nostrils as the flared when he took deep breaths to calm himself down.

His mind was fucking with him, had been all day, had been all night last night. It kept him up, anytime he would try to close his eyes it would just replay all that happened just hours before like some sick snuff film. It got so bad that every time he blinked his mind would show him stills and images from when he was still lucid.

He can still remember the sight of you; On your back, scrambling away from him, bloodied and bruised, and utterly afraid of him as he towered over you. The love of his life is now terrified of him.

He took another swig from the whiskey bottle, nearly choking as a sob shook his shoulders. Tears stabbed at his eyes, burning at the corners as he forced himself to swallow. His shoulders shook, his back tightened, his ribs felt heavy.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

He had been so careful up until last night.

‘Be careful out there, yeah cowboy?’ your voice echoed in the back of his mind.

‘Always am, darlin’.’

A heavy sob forced its way out of him, dropping the bottle back down to the rocks as he pressed his back closer to the boulder. He felt bile creeping up in the back of his throat as it tightened.

It was a complete shitshow. Everything started off eerie and quiet, your team cautiously entering what was supposed to be an abandoned hotel that Talon had been using as a makeshift hideout after having been drawn out by previous missions. You as well as a few others went ahead of him, having been posted towards the front of the hotel in the trashed and very dilapidated lobby as a lookout.

He had a horrible feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach the entire time he was up front, uneasily rocking back and forth, placing weight on one leg and shifting it to the other as he fiddled with his armor and gun belt. Every noise made him jump a bit, his eyes constantly scanning around for any movement that didn’t belong to Overwatch agents. Straining his ears, he could hear you going deeper and deeper inside the hotel, going up creaking stairs that threatened to give out under the slightest weight. He focused on your heartbeat.

At the slightest hike in its rhythm, he would book it from his position.

He didn’t like this place, didn’t trust it with any fiber of his being. Even the monster inside of him was starting to go nuts, gnawing at the bars of its cage, clawing at his ribs and tearing at his guts inside of him. He could feel icy claws trace along his spine.

The agents around him gave him an odd look out of the corners of their eyes, eyebrows all knit with slight concern at how he was acting. He didn’t care, though, he just wanted to get you and get the hell out of here. His throat burned for a cigarette, his nose crying from the overstimulation this place brought with all of its horrible smells of rot and mold.

Just as he was idly rolling a finger over the carton of cigarettes in his pocket, he heard your heartbeat hike,

And then came the gunfire.

He was the first to peel out of the lobby and into the crowded stairwell, taking the aged steps three at a time. Peacekeep felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds as he pulled the hammer back. He could barely make out the shouting over the gunfire, his voice barely loud enough to call out over it as he climbed the steps toward hell.

He broke through the door like a bat out of hell and shot dead the first Talon agent he saw. He called out for you, dodging bullets and bracing against walls and busted down doors, taking out whatever he could from the flood of Talon agents.

There were so many of them. How did he not smell them? How did he not hear them? If he had just focused hard enough, this all could’ve been avoided.

And then he heard it.

Your shrill scream cut through the chaos like a hot knife through butter. It felt as though he had been shot in the back with a silver round. He barreled through the hallways as though he had been suddenly possessed. He felt himself slipping and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

As he neared the room your scream came from, blood suddenly splattered out from the open doorway as the Talon agent fell backward. Peeling inside with Peacekeeper drawn, he nearly dropped his precious gun at the sight of you collapsed on the dusty floor nursing a nasty looking bullet wound in your side. Your gun clattered to the ground as you clasped both hands on the wound, wincing and crying, applying whatever pressure you could. Cole was at your side, kneeling beside you, encasing your hands with one of his own and applying more pressure as blood leaked between your fingers. You looked up at him with weary eyes, a faint smile ghosting over your lips.

‘Guess I shoulda took my own advice, Cass?’

He shot you a look before calling out behind him for a medic.

‘Yer gonna be just fine darlin’. You took a lot worse than this before. Yer gonna pull right through,’ he crooned.

You nodded, wincing as he applied more pressure. Seconds passed by like hours. His nerves were sparking like he was hopped up on adrenaline. Where was that fucking medic?

As he turned to yell louder, he instead got the same treatment as you did; A bullet, this time getting him right in the lower back, barely missing his spine by a few hairs.

Everything happened so fast. Colors faded together, his body felt like it was doused with icy cold water all while being lit on fire, there was a horrid ringing in his head. He didn’t even feel the pain it all brought on, just the feeling of his clothes suddenly becoming tight before tearing as brawny muscles flexed and covered with fur.

He should’ve known better. He always kept it under control.

The only other thing he remembered was the sight of you, face painted with pure fear, crawling backwards away from him into the dusty corner, blood seeping from in between your fingers.

Cole wiped his face with his metal hand, the plates were cool and strung a bit when he pinched around his eyes to stop the rest of the tears from falling. His body wracked with a harsh hiccup, hunching in on himself slightly. His serape fell forward, hiding his exposed skin from the chilly air.

“Cole?” It was like he had been shot all over again. Fear struck him right in the gut like an icy pike. He could suddenly smell them, he could even taste their worry it was that thick. “Cole?” the small voice repeated.

It was soft, barely audible, almost drowned out by the wind and the waves crashing. He could feel the warmth their body radiated, their smell lingered in his nose. It had started to calm him down without even doing anything. He couldn’t turn his head to face them, instead tucking his head down and allowing the brim of his hat to obscure his eyes.

‘If I don’t see ‘em, they’ll go away,’ he thought painfully.

“I’m not going anywhere, cowboy,” your voice was firm. He could feel your eyes rolling over him, taking in all of the torture he put onto himself. The wrinkled and messy flannel shirt stained with sweat and a bit of bile, the dirty jeans that hadn’t been washed in a while, the boots that had be scuffed with spurs all bent out of shape. Even his arm had lacked care and upkeep, the once shiny metal was dull from not keeping it clean. “Oh, Cass,” you doted, “don’t torture yourself.”

He finally spared you a glance. You were in very loose clothes, the sweatpants you wore barely clung to your waist, dipping a bit. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of the sterile white bandages wrapping around your waist from where the bullet had been dug out of you. Your sweatshirt was unzipped, one of his worn shirts from long ago covered your front under it. You looked exhausted, not a single trace of shame or anger or even fear lingered on your person.

“You shouldn’ be up,” he slurred, turning to look away from you. “Shouldn’ even be ‘round a thing like me.”

He felt you step closer to him before slowly getting on the ground beside him. You didn’t dare sit, fearing the pull of your stitched up wound, instead you kneeled right next to him and kept your hands on your thighs. You both sat in uncomfortable silence for God knows how long before he felt you ever so gently place your hand on his outstretched leg. He stared at your hand, noting the small cuts and odd bruises you had, even staring at the nasty looking bruise in your inner elbow all wrapped up from where they drew blood and let the IV flow. He didn’t look up higher, though.

“I love you,” your words were soft but firm. “Nothing’s ever gonna change that, you know.” He still didn’t spare you a look. He heard you swallow thickly, your hand squeezed his leg a little tighter. “I understand why you never told me about… that. I’m not afraid of you, Cass.”

He broke down, startling you when a dry sob heaved his shoulders. You scooted closer, wrapping your arms around his trembling shoulders, holding him as he sobbed quietly in the mid-summer night. You pressed your lips to his shoulder, holding yourself firm against him as he crumbled with the sounds of the waves crashing beneath you both.

[renatogpadilla]

THOUGHTS ON CR3E92 IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

- FIRST EVER CR CROSSOVER EPISODE?!

LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

- Dariax said "This Flute doesn't play itself anymore." Doriax canon offscreen?

- "After all the handjobs, this is what we mean to you?!" Damn... I mean, I'm glad Opal and Cyrus found a way to relieve stress, Gods know they're both stressed, but damn.

- Ending the episode on Opal Twice-Crowned hitting phase 2 of the boss fight was EVIL!

I love it, @quiddie ! I feel like when this gets animated in a decade or so, we'll get this fight and the fight with Otohan Thull overlayed one on top of the other for a Season Finale or something!

- Raven Queen going two for two on Rogues turned Paladin! Which is great, but now I have to replan Morrighan's moveset for that imaginary Critical Role fighting game that only exists in my head (somebody ask me about it please, I NEED to talk about it!) but at least she gets some Smite options out of the Bunny Hop command jump!

- Dariax is a Bard now too! That's honestly so perfect for Matt! And the fact that both Sorcerers and Bards are Charisma Casters makes me feel like the Synergies are gonna be great!

- Oh, Dorian, wonderful blue king... That's a lot of strength that your Dice will never agree to let you use for anything cool. I missed you SO MUCH!

- Speaking of that imaginary CR fighting game, this just solidified Opal as a puppet character. The tag combos with Ted would be WILD! Think Kenshi from MK1!

- Fy'ra Rai... Just... FY'RA RAI! Gods, I've missed Anjali at the table! Her memory with Opal, her tug-of-war with her thoughts about her sister... THE LAVA WHIP! Nothing sexier than Monks! Except a pissed off Wizard or Druid.

- On the other side of the table, I LOVE the moment the girls all collectively remembered they had to break the news to Frida... Oh, that's gonna hurt BAD!

- Anyone else noticed that Ashton is BURNT OUT and laying on the ground after his Titan form wears off, but Fearne just says she's really tired and just KEEPS GOING? Ashton is DONE for now, but Fearne needs to keep moving forward... Fuck, I love these two.

- Orym... Just... Orym. If you take a level in Barbarian after this, I wouldn't blame you.

- Side-Note: This means Dorian DID get Orym's last message before they went to the moon! He just didn't/couldn't answer! Which means, through the static and everything, Dorian COULD hear Orym! And now he's probably gonna get this message once the battle is over... Jesus, if they get to Zephra and Keyleth went to the Lodge next to the lake that's gonna be a problem...

- Side-Note Side-Note: Anyone else hoping to GOD that Allura called the Nein to help? Cause Beau and Caleb were involved, but now it feels like an "All Hands on Deck" situation, and we could use Kingsley's small army of pirates right about now...

- So much happened this episode between the grieving and the flashbacks and the rolling for handjobs that I didn't have time to process the splinter cell of Xhorhasians that split their soul in twain until I woke up... Opal may have forgotten, but maybe Ted hasn't? Though if they're the same person, maybe they both forgot...

- Aabria, the corrupting of the Memories was FOUL, I LOVE IT!!!

- Somebody needs to tell Essek about the soul-splitters. In fact, let's get to that while we deal with Ashton too!

- IF OPAL DIES, AMY CAN COME OVER AS DENI$E! Like, I don't WANT her to die, but Westruun isn't that far... 👀

- I just realized this is the first ever FULL episode of CR without Sam at the table... Fuck, man, when it hurts it hurts. Glad Marisha brought back the fan.

"Forgot the Consonants?" "No Letters." OUCH, MISS RAY, WHAT THE FUCK?!

- Raven Queen Paladins hasting themselves first thing in the fight. Vax is back, and he's a Bunny Girl now!

- I like that the Crownkeepers are a two-way Overwatch reunion (McCree Cassidy and Symmetra) and a three-way Persona 5 reunion (Yusuke, Ann Futaba and Akechi).

- Everything was so fucked this episode that everything with Liliana got knocked to the background for me, THAT'S how good it was!

- The SECOND Evoroa said Ludinos was on Exandria I knew EXACTLY where he would be! Now we HAVE to get the Nein involved, right? Unless the bastard makes the city float again...

I cannot WAIT for the next episode! And if Sam brings a new character when all the groups are together, it would be SPECTACULAR! I'm guessing he's going to play one of the moon races, because that just sounds cool... Either that or Tary!

[docholligay]

shaking hands meme: Fareeha Amari, ChibiUsa. Having their entire canon plotlines and existences wrapped up in being copies of their mothers.

It IS so frustrating, isn't it?

I mean, poor Chibiusa never stood a chance, her name is "Usagi but small." her entire life is wrapped up in having to literally escape from the time period in which she's living in order to...go back and help her mother, again. ANy time Chibs opposes Usagi in a major way she is a literal villain. Poor girl. It's wild. If I had ever really gotten into Chibs, I would have loved to tap into what it's like to be trapped as a child for 900 years because your mother loves the idea of everyone being trapped in amber and honestly is probably subconsiously controlling it IF YOU ASK ME. (The whole not aging in Crystal Tokyo once they hit 21 or whatever it is has always been especially horrifying to me.)

BUT FAREEHA. It wasn't supposed to be this way, initially. The story was supposed to be ABOUT her. I mean, Angela and Lena and Hana and Genji and McCree/Cole, but for sure also Fareeha. It was actually really interesting, when we had the possibility that all of them had completely different perspectives on Overwatch.

When we were even introduced to Ana, we were presented with the idea that Fareeha maybe even had a lonely childhood, because as much as she got to see The Old Guard, her mother was also GONE ALL THE TIME. She got to be BETRAYED BY HER MOTHER, and I am not going to say canon had saddled her with guilt over her difficult relationship with the mother in the wake of her death, but I think that's certainly the more interesting take given HER MOTHER PRETENDED TO BE DEAD FOR SEVEN YEARS.

So we have a Fareeha that should be fucking furious, that should want to be nothing like her mother, that should, in every active moment of her life, attempt to be nothing like her mother. Now, all of this could be great if Overwatch let her respond to "Oh, you remind me so much of your mother!" with, "Your criticism is noted" but boy they just will not let her stay furious at Ana.

But yes! God, why won't canon let Fareeha have motivations outside of her mother for doing literally fucking anything. She wanted to be in Overwatch, to be like her mother, and then Ana like...cock-blocked her, and that could be fun too! Ana raising fareeha to think that what she does is important and valuable and noble and then having the audacity to be surprised and annoyed when Fareeha wants to do the same*. But Fareeha has her own shit going on! I mean even the first comics, we see Fareeha basically say God's not her thing when someone quotes the Quran at her. Isn't that an interesting idea? Like at all? Fareeha's line in the We Are Overwatch trailer, something I took far too seriously, clearly, in thinking about these characters, is "We are hope." So we combine that with the fact that Fareeha is a DOER, and that she's not a real FAITH HAVER, all of which is canon by the way, though I did pull who she is to me now out of it, isn't THAT interesting? So...hope is in doing? yeah? What a cool idea!

But no, mostly it's content to let everything Fareeha does be about her stupid mother and I am so so frustrated. I even like Ana as a piece to move on the board, if we LET her be an insanely frustrating woman who believes the rules don't fucking apply to her even now.

*Because I love a good contrast, this is part of the reason I had Bert be like, "I can't ask a father to let me train his daughter to fly into danger and not be willing to send mine"

[cerezzzita]

Hey there, kween. Rainbow dragon here with some valentine themed asks. Giving Dante a bouquet of his favorite flowers (red roses?) with “how much did all of this cost you…” “does that really matter?”. Or forcing McCree to watch a soppy movie + "That's really all I need. Some time with just you." Here's some valentines chocolates a s payment 🍫🍫🍫

🍓 ˖ . ᵎᵎ kiss from a rose ✦ dante x fem!reader

⌕ synopsis: It's Valentine's Day and your loving devil have a thing for everything red, especially roses.

notes: oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god- FINALLY MADE SOMETHING WITH >HIM< AAAA he's my boo, Dante's just the love of my life, I can't put in words how much I love this man! he's so sjsksananwwh UGHHH I LOVE HIM SO FREAKING MUCH! MAN I LOVE YOUUU <dante3

okay okay, now i can breath. oof! firstly, happy Valentine's Day y'all! if you have a Valentine to spend the day with, hope everything's nice and smooth with you, sending you friendly but sweet kisses, and if you're like me, without a Valentine (not that that's sad okay it can be pretty good and all), come here, Dante will make your day brighter and especial as he's making with me hehehehehe.

so! hope you all enjoy the reading! AND BY THE WAYYY GO FOLLOW @aldryrththerainbowheart, yup, the sweetheart that requested this! they (sorry, I don't know your pronouns, hope I don't offend you) have an DMC Arcana Series that's mwah, over the top! thank you for requesting, though <3333 and here some sugar for ya too 🍫🍫🍫

♡ word count: 455

♡ tags: fluffy, 2nd pov (you/yours), Dante being an sugarcube, use of petnames (because it's not Dante if he's not using petnames), female reader, he's shirtless btw, Dante being the ultimate red lover that he is <3

✦ read on ao3

Stealthily, you entered the doors of the Devil May Cry shop, the tails of your eyes inspecting every possible corner. Everything seemed unnaturally quiet for a venue that had daily hustles among its members. Perhaps it was due to the fact that that day was no other than Valentine's Day. And you were looking for your valentine, one with silver hair, crystal eyes and a smoldering mischievous smile.

Speaking of mischief, the tips of your lips twitched in a similarly conceited smile. Your hands behind your back guarded a preciousness that yes, could have taken a good amount of your salary as a Devil Hunter, but it would be worth it.

Returning to the present scenario, by instinct your eyebrows shaped curious curves by the unusual silence, which was occasionally interrupted by the low — almost inaudible — music coming from the old jukebox. Your mouth opened to vocalize:

“Yoo-hoo, Dante! Where are you?”

“Miss me, sugarcube?” From the top of the stairs emerged the slender half-demon, looking fresh and shirtless. Oh yeah. A freshly showered Dante could never be too much candy for the eye.

Your teeth subtly bit into the soft flesh of your lower lip, but not to give reasons to further inflate the Devil Hunter's ego, you shook your head and took a step or two towards him.

“There you are,” you purred, capturing the smoothness of Dante's lips on yours that resulted in a brief seal. “Did you really think I would let such a special date go unnoticed?”

It was Dante's turn to let his brow rise in question, the look of his features compounded by his caricature lightness and wit. Though he couldn't be astute enough to predict the movement of your hands as you filled the fields of his eyes with a neat, fragrant bouquet of red roses. His clear, icy eyes widened in surprise.

“Babe…”

“Since you have a thing for everything that's red, I thought they were your favourites!” You justified, the soft feeling of the fervency of love and embarrassment united in a single averted gaze. Your irises returned to Dante's still dazed face.

“How much did all of this cost you…?”

“Does that really matter?” You replied.

Dante finally gave you one of those rousing, contagious smiles of his, catching the crimson flowers in one hand and wrapping his arm around your waist, lifting you off your feet in an impromptu hug. The palm of your hand, by impulse, found the warmth of the firm and naked chest of the half-demon.

“Aw, babe, you're the best girlfriend ever!" With that said, your entire face was soon taken over by lots and lots of splattered kisses. “Thank you so much, angelcake!”

“Tee-hee, happy Valentine's Day, daredevil…”

cerezzzita©, 2023 · all rights reserved ⓘ do not copy, edit, steal or claim as yours

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

The cowboy figure has always meant so much to me as a transgender man.

I never really watched westerns myself, but my grandpa liked them a lot and I would peer into his room and have a peek. I was infatuated with what the cowboy represented to me. I loved horses and getting toy ones to play with, and in a dance class we got dressed up as cowgirls for a performance and I had loved getting dressed for that and for western days at school, but it never felt right. Always a little off, because I was a cowboy, not a cowgirl. I was just happy to be something western. The game Darkwatch came out and I played it damn near religiously with my dad. When I was even younger Barbie Horse Adventures was as close to a cowboy simulation as I could get in those days. I wouldn't even complete the missions, I'd just run through the map with my horse having made up cowboy adventures instead of acknowledging I was a Barbie Horse Jockey Girl lol. I remember staring at the men that would ride down our street on their horses in full cowboy gear, as excited as if I were at a parade. I saw McCree when Overwatch came out and my jaw dropped and I thought, "God. I wish I looked like him." And immediately drew chunky McCree art and looked for more.

So many little moments.

Throughout my whole life I just adored the idea of cowboys, but never sat down and really thought about why. I tried to sit down and think about it the other day.

Cowboys are so important to me and my transition. Someday I'll get a nice pair of boots for myself.

[fictionkinfessions]

(Mpc sorry abr the language in this i am just so angy)

God you absolute BITCH! I LOVED you you stupid fucker! You taught me everything and kicked my ass into gear and showed me i was FINALLY WORTH A DAMN and then you found your FUCKING soldier again and all I was left to you was the fucking dust under your boot.

I loved you. I *still* love you [hysterical laughter emoji] how the hell am i supposed to deal with that?

Genji watched what you did to me. He watched me fall apart every fucking day without you and he built me back up and I'm so glad I had him and have him. But up until now I remembered none of that and just. Haha. Out of the blue you left the one person you promised never to leave. Fuck you Gabriel. I love you, you bastard.

-Jesse McCree fictive (not cole cassidy, dont call me that)

x

[yeehanfrf]

Week 1 Recs: One Shot, One Kill

The Week 1 Fic Rec Friday theme was "One Shot, One Kill," or fics that clock in under 10,000 words. Here are all the bite-sized fics recommended by the Yeehan community, organized by rating, then alphabetically by title.

General Audience

A Dragon's Treasure by SetsunaNoroi [5,958 words] Reccer comment: "It's a bit of comfort read; short, sweet, humourous, charming, and hits a lot of what I enjoy reading in a YH fic."

Hanzo can't help himself in developing feelings for Jesse McCree, but that doesn't mean he has to share them. With his sins, he is better off alone but still he can't help but want him. It should be fine as long as he just never says anything. Unfortunately his dragons have different ideas and keep trying to lay claim on the cowboy. Mostly McCree is just confused.

In Hot Pursuit by AsheRhyder [3,928 words] Reccer comment: "Loser man Cassidy fumbling the bag with Hanzo ft. Papa Reaps."

Cassidy can flirt, but he's never had someone actually take him up on the offers his silver tongue makes.

Hanzo is determined to win whatever game they're playing, especially when the prize is a flustered cowboy.

Gabriel and Jack just want to play cards.

To Grow Old Together (Is the Ultimate Declaration of Love) by PlanetaryRose [697 words] Reccer comment: "v short but v v sweet"

“I don’t just love you Jesse, I adore you, you are my heart but it is more than that. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, to grow old with you and have you forever by my side and in my arms.

You consume me in every way, mind, body, and soul. I would spend the rest of my days with you, dedicate my life to you.”

Teen and Up

Dreamlike by mataglap [4,063 words] Reccer comment: "4,063 words of achingly sweet fluff!"

Hanzo is used to bad dreams, and he never would have expected that a good dream would end up haunting him the most.

Finding Home, Building Home by coinin [1,975 words] Reccer comment: "rly sweet slice of yeehan, punches u in the face in under 2k words!"

It's taken a while, helped along by teammates, arguments about furniture, and quite a bit of cat hair, but Jesse's finally made a home.

Midway by robocryptid [2,329 words] Reccer comment: "2329 words that I go back to often because it hits a perfect balance between funny, sweet and romantic."

Cassidy and Hanzo go undercover at the fair to track a mark. Obviously they blend in best if everyone assumes they're a couple. It goes exactly how you think.

Silver Screen by DerpyMcButtface [1,990 words] Reccer comment: "Some people might hate me for recommending this one bc it’s SAD, but I really love the premise, and it’s VERY well written."

It's far, far in the future. The heroes are dead, old, or getting there fast. They're making movies now, about Overwatch, but not everyone's happy about that.

Mature

All the Love You Ever Get by SaltCore [3,387 words] Reccer comment: "3387 words to make you cry (mind the tags!)"

Some carry the last words they'll ever hear their soulmate say like a brand on their skin. Whether it's a blessing or a curse is for the philosophers to decide.

Hanzo, for his part, would rather fate had passed him by instead of leaving her mark.

Electric by mataglap [2,212 words] Reccer comment: "Caught up in a thunderstorm, gets spicy"

They get caught in a storm. Things get slightly out of control.

Fire from the Gods by Adolphus Longestaffe [1,372 words] Reccer comment: "very short but beautifully written"

Used to be every time he looked away you got afraid he didn’t love you no more. Now every time he breathes out you’re afraid he won’t breathe in again.

Shrimp Heaven Now by Liquid_Lyrium [5,916 words] Reccer comment: "utterly silly fun"

Hanzo is single-handedly trying to get them thrown out of every Red Lobster in town. McCree is just along for the ride.

Explicit

blisters by cosmicevil [3,141 words] Reccer comment: "A gut punch every time I read it"

Hanzo is going to figure it out.

Debriefing by MittenCrab [6,332 words] Reccer comment: "The scene from this fic haunts me (in a good way). I think about it quite a lot. 6332 words by MittenCrab. A lot of feelings. So many feelings."

“You did not debrief,” Hanzo says finally. It’s more a statement than a question.

[McCree’s mission goes badly when he crosses paths with Reaper - the man who was once everything to him. Wounded and frustrated, he meets Hanzo at one of their safe houses, where he discovers that debriefing can be a lot more fun than he’d previously imagined. (PWP)]

Familiar Habits by Philosophics [8,176 words]

After joining Overwatch, Hanzo finds it difficult to sleep some nights. It is nothing a hot cup of tea cannot fix, but he never expected that he would have company.

(or: hanzo is very thirsty, in more ways than one)

It Will Come Back by CorvidFightClub [3,434 words] Reccer comment: "3,434 words, it’s fuck or die with bonus werewolf :D"

McCree and Hanzo are captured by a gang somewhere in the American Midwest after a mission. The situation becomes more dire when Hanzo finds out the gang isn’t the only thing he has to worry about.

On the Mouth by super_duper [3,292 words] Reccer comment: "I always come back to this one bc it's such a perfect balance of virgin and manslut Hanzo"

Jesse and Hanzo have a thing. Jesse would like it to be more than a thing. Hanzo has a secret.

Slippage by robocryptid [1,389 words] Reccer comment: "some more angst with smut and questionable comfort in 1389 words"

Cassidy compartmentalizes. Hanzo knows it, because he does the same.

It’s supposed to be simple, and it’s anything but.

your good side by motorghost [2,053 words] Reccer comment: "this one by motorghost is so delicious!!!"

Hanzo feels himself changing because of Cole. There's lots of ways to thank him, but when you only have nightly webcam chats, your options are limited. Luckily Hanzo is more creative than Cole knows.

Thank you to everyone who sent in a recommendation! Keep an eye out for next week's theme: "Feel-Good Hour," for all your heartwarming fluff needs!

[goodluckdetective]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Oh man, what a question. I tried to pick a piece each from a different fandom to mix it up a bit:

The Devil Went Down to Georgia (Overwatch)

Ship: McHanzo or Hanzo/Cassidy Summary: Fifteen years ago, Jesse McCree made a deal at a crossroads for someone’s life. Now, the creature has come to collect. Why I like it: I still think this is one of the best things I’ve ever written. The plot here is solid, I managed to showcase how important McCree/Cassidy is to Overwatch as a whole and I think the horror bits land well. I need to update it with new names but otherwise it holds, despite some bits being jossed.

Letters to Nowhere (Supernatural)

Ship: Destiel, Sam/Eileen Summary: AU Post Inherit the Earth. After God is defeated, Sam decides to text the one person they're still missing with regular updates. Castiel can read them when he gets back. Because they are getting him back. This isn’t Chuck’s story anymore. They’ve lost too much to him as it is. They’ve won: it’s time they feel like it. And act like it too. Why I like it: I tend to stay away from writing multi chapter works because I’m bad at finishing them, but this is one piece I managed from start to finish. My goal here was to write something that felt like it could be close to canon and while I do think it’s a little too sappy for that, I got as close as I could. Also, I adore the Chuck sections.

Smile, You’re Trending (The Magnus Archives)

Ship: Jon/Martin Summary: During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see. For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective. Why I like it: OCs in fic is always a gamble, especially if you want them to hold a chunk of screen time but here I think I managed it. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on my avatar I used in this story as an antagonist and I think she works well!

System Failure (RVB)

Ship: None Summary: It starts like this. The Director needs your help. It ends like this: exactly how it starts. Why I like it: This is the best horror piece I’ve ever written, hands down. It fucks.

Tamper Proof (Ace Attorney)

Ship: Wrightworth Summary: Miles Edgeworth does not ride on elevators. It is perhaps this reason that he is the first to notice that Phoenix Wright does not drink from pre-opened containers. Why I like it: I tend to write only small little things for Ace Attorney but I think this is one of my better ones. I wanted to explore Phoenix’s trauma in conversation with Edgeworth’s, and I think I succeed!

[chiefatticcreator]

Prompt: being called a stud so many times manifested in hormonal!Jacks mind. Once he hears the word (even non-sexual) he gets the mindblowing need to fuck and breed someone.

(Hey, an hormonal!jack asks! It's been a while, i love them!)

"OHH FUCK ME STUD! YOUR COCK IS GREAT OH FUUUCK!" Genji and Hanzo screamed in unisson as they were fucked by the teen's enormous cock, the two sisters' minds going blank from serving jack's cock. The two japanese girls laid on top of each other, each feeling Jack's cock stretch their holes more than anything had ever done, bringing them more pelasure than they could ever imagine.

......

"You're such a stud, little brother..." Lynn sighed, happily rubbing her belly, bloated full of cum, as she watched her once shy and whimpy little brother completely dominate their mother with his cock. The once abusive mother reduced, just liek her daughter, to be nothing more than a set of holes for jack to fuck and fill as he wished..

.........

"You're even more of a stud than any stallion we've ever kept~" Jessie McCree grinned, seeing her cousin's enormous bulge as she reached out to stroke his cock in front of her friends. "And a stud like you deserves his own stable of mares, and that's what we are~"

......

"You exceed my wildest expectations." Moira smiled, licking her fingers clean of Jack's cum as she looked at him in wonder. "But i'm sure i could make you even more of a stud~" Endurance, cock size, sexual potentcy, libido... she had increased alll of them beyond human levels, but she could go further, make the teenager a true God of sex~

.........

"Calling Jack a "boy" is insulting him." Angela glared at Ashe, the two girls having gotten into an argument after the blonde heared the white-haired girl calling her master a "cute boy". "You should call him 'maste', or 'stud', because that's what he is!"

........

"Okay, i'm going to fix the wheels to that rollerblade... Jack, can you pass me the studs?" Brigitte asked, a hand reaching out towards her friend.

She had invited him at her and whilhelmina's home, and they would fuck in a moment, but she had this project to work on, repairing Luciana's skates.

She hadn't expected to be pushed against the wooden table of the garage by the boy, gasping as she felt his cock smack against her ass.

"Coem on, Jack, wait just a minute!" she protested, half-giggling. "I'm almost done, i just need to get the studs and... Ohhh!"

Her eyes rolled all the way to the back of her head as her master's immense cock speared her, slamming into her cunt all the way to the back of her womb. Her legs trembled as an orgasm shook her from the moment his hyper dick entered her.

Well, she could always finish the repairs later, she supposed.

+++++

".. and, as you can see on this pictures, examples of how weapons, armors and dresses were decorated at that time." mrs. Amari smiled, showing off the next slide to the class.

"Here you can see buttons, cuff links, some patterns engraved in the metal such as these studs here and there and... Jack!"

Jack was usually pretty good at listening in class, only reserving the fucking for after, or before, or during but discreetly. It wa quite unusual for him to get up in the middle of mrs Amari's sentence and bend one of his classmates over her desk. But that was what he was doing, the sound of their fucking drowning out any further progress of the lesson as the tacher and students alike watched on.

[storytimewithnova]

Torn Apart in the Nexus

Kenma and his friends including his wife who are a group of Twitch streamers were going to Live Stream overwatch as they were going live Kenma and shona where arguing

Kenma:🎶This is the worst team I have ever played with in my life When we finally get on the point, everyone dies🎶

Shona: This is the team we always play with our house mate WTF are you bitching about

Akaashi: hey cloud how long have they been like this

Suna: roughly an hour hour and a half at best Atlas

Kenma:🎶I understand that every now and then a team won't click When it comes to you, I don't think I can sympathize🎶

Shona: Me me really you really want to go there you fucker

If they keep going at this rate this will be our stream and Kodzken will be ending up on the couch

Kenma:🎶You should've picked Mercy You should've picked any kind of support We ended up losing, and it's all your fault You should learn how this game works You should've been helping🎶

Shona:🗣If you like Mercy so much, why don't you just marry her? Instead of me

Suna: Oh crap she is done with his BS right there

Akaashi: No kidding babe what is the chat saying

Suna: oh they asked if we are going to play to which i anwser we will When these two stop bickering like a married couple

shona: we are married

Akaashi: you're engaged not married yet there is a difference

Shona:🎶So you're the type that gets on mic and tries to lecture me When you're the most useless person we have on our team I've never seen anybody rage quite as hard as you Maybe you should go back to playing Team Fortress 2🎶

Kenma: Hey leave that game out of it that game still slaps 😤 now just pick Mercy so we can play

Shona:Ha 🎶I'm not gonna be Mercy I'm not gonna be any kind of support We ended up losing, and you got all mad Your tears are what I live for🎶

Suna: OMFG Pick something and play the god damn game Because we're losing viewers because of your stupidity and childishness

Akaashi: this is killing me to watch

Kenma: 🎶You should've been Mercy🎶

Shona:🎶 I'm not gonna be any kind of support🎶

Kenma: 🎶We ended up losing, and it's all your fault🎶

Shona: 🎶Your tears are what I live for🎶

Akasuna: PICK A CHARACTER!!!

Kenma:🗣Maybe I'll be Tracer

Shona 🗣I'm already Tracer

Kenma: 🗣What about Widowmaker?

Shona: 🗣I'm already Widowmaker

Kenma : 🗣I'll be Bastion

Shona: 🗣Nerf Bastion

Kenma:🗣You're right, so, Winston

Shona:🗣I wanna be Winston

Kenma:🗣 I guess I'll be Genji

Shona:🗣 I'm already Genji

Kenma: 🗣Then I'll be McCree

Shona: 🗣I already chose McCree

Kenma: 🗣I have an idea

Shona: 🗣What's your idea?

Kenma: 🗣You should be

Shona: 🗣I'm not gonna be Mercy

Akasshi: Omg i apologies to our viewers we are use to this by now they would just pick one and settle it on the battle feild

Kenma: 🎶You should've picked Mercy🎶

Shona:🎶I'm not gonna be any kind of support🎶

Kenma:🎶We ended up losing, and it's all your fault🎶

Shona:🎶Your tears are what I live for I'm not gonna be Mercy🎶

Kenma: 🎶You should've picked any kind of support🎶

Shona:🎶We ended up losing and you got all mad🎶

Kenma:🎶You should learn how this game works🎶

Shona: fine fuck it i'll be D'va

Suna: after that display that character suits ya you 2 have been going at this for 2 and half hours and got absolutely no well this was some stream

Shona states live on stream she was going to dump kenma and join cloud and Atlas relationship she so stated she is not one of his sims he look after and maintains she is a living being and was meant be his now she having doubts giving kenma something to think a out

Shona storms out clearly not happy with the situation while the viewers are sending mean comments in the chat about Kenma's behaviour

Suna: Holy shit dude thia stream is a mess right Babe

Keiji agreed with his boyfriend

Keiji: right It's clear that she was not happy with Kenma's actions during the stream. And look at our viewers Love they just continue to express their disappointment

Suna: Honestly can you blame them

Suna turned to Kenma, shocked by the magnitude of the situation.

Suna: And you Kenma i think you blew the whole damn thing out of Proportion It's just a damn game not an excuse fpr you to turn on your fiancé this stream was a mess Akaashi: I am worried about Shona's well-being.

After Akaashi said he also took charge and apologized to the viewers for the chaotic stream. He reassured them that they would end the livestream and make an effort to help Kenma and Shona patch things up. With that, the stream ended and Akaashi and Suna hoped they could mend the broken relationship between their friends before it was too late.

When they finally returned to streaming, after taking a break from it and from each other Kenma and Shona made a joint statement to their viewers, apologizing for their conduct and assuring everyone that they were working on becoming better partners and teammates. The viewers, impressed by their honesty and commitment to personal growth, showed their support and gave them another chance.

Through the challenges they faced during that problematic stream, Kenma and Shona learned valuable lessons about the importance of communication, respect, and compromise in both gaming and relationships. From that point forward, they became an even stronger team, not only as Twitch streamers but also as partners in life.

[nadja-antipaxos]

Chapter 3: i need a bad idea; just one - december 2012

Previously - Chapter 2 || Masterlist || Next - Chapter 4

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: swearing (some vulgar language from Jordan especially), PTSD nightmares, sexual tension, and finally sex (oral, PIV, fingering) It's not super smutty but it's enough.

Note:  I know it's too early for Christmas vibes, but blame Iron Man 3. Please leave feedback  if you so desire!

Word Count: 16, 818 (so sorry this is the longest one!)

By the time they reach the cabin, she’s exhausted. They have some sandwiches for lunch which energizes her enough to take a shower. She has half a mind to crawl into bed despite the fact it’s only 2 in the afternoon. She isn’t sore like yesterday, so that elixir must’ve worked. She comes downstairs and doesn’t see Steve, so she tries to read more of the Amelia Earhart book, but she’s not feeling it. She picks through the rest of the books. It’s mostly boring historical stuff until one cover catches her eye. It’s a buff man in a cowboy hat with his shirt open holding a busty woman in a loose dress.

“The Reckless Paradise?” She picks it up.

Why is there a trashy romance novel at a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house? There is no way she’s not gonna read this. She read some romance novels in high school when she was going through puberty, but this is a whole other level. She opens it and sees a signature from the author. ‘To Bruce xoxo’. Her eyes grow wide. This is Dr. Banner’s trashy romance novel? She opens it and starts reading about Geraldine Saunders (who is just herself in a blonde wig), the daughter of the wealthy rancher, and Dalton McCree (who may or may not look like Timothy Olyphant in her head), the poor ranch hand with a mysterious past. She realizes she doesn’t know how people in Montana sound, so she gives them southern accents in her head. The writing is terrible. The characters are not fleshed out at all,  but that’s not why people read romance novels. They bicker back and forth. She’s told not to interact with him. She spends a lot of time watching him work the horses with his shirt open which does not sound safe. They dance around each other for at least 50 pages while she aches for him at night. The actual phrase in the book is ‘The forbidden lady valley between her legs ached furiously at the thought of Dalton covered in sweat by the trough but she doesn’t dare satisfy herself’.  Nicolette didn’t know vaginas could be furious. Hers has never felt that way.

“Get that dick, Geraldine.” She mutters under her breath.

Steve clears his throat and she looks over at him.

“Fury called. Unless something changes, tomorrow should be our last day here.”

“They’re not finding anything?” She sets the book on the table.

“They found some chatter.” He sits down next to her on the couch.

“Okay…” She furrows her brow.

“The bomb in your car was set off to scare you. Keep you trapped to kidnap you.”

“So, they didn’t want to kill me?”

“Not originally.”

“But the knife—you saw it.”

“You put up a fight. They didn’t expect that.”

“And they didn’t expect you or S.H.I.E.L.D. Get rid of the witness.”

“They can’t find you and they know we’re involved, so they’ve moved on.”

Moved on? Oh, no.

“Has anyone talked to Pepper?”

“We can’t reach her.”

“Oh, god.”

She tucks her knees under her chin. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to Pepper. Should she have let them take her? Would that have kept Pepper safe? She feels the tears stinging her eyes again. She licks her lips and takes a breath. She hates this. Steve places his hands on her shoulders.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but—”

“They’re the ones doing this. Not you. You had every right to defend yourself.”

“If they took me, they wouldn’t hurt Pepper.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Tony loves Pepper.”

“That doesn’t mean he’d want anything to happen to you.”

“I wish I knew he was okay.”

“He’s Tony Stark. He always comes through, right?”

“Y-Yeah.”

The tears slip down her face and she takes a breath.

“I feel so alone.” She chokes out.

Steve wraps his arms around her. She grips the collar of his sweater as she sobs. She just wants this to be over.

“You’re not alone,” he rubs her back. “You’re alive cause Tony made sure you’d be protected. Why do you think he picked boring Captain America?”

Nicolette sighs heavily against his hard chest. She can hear his steady heartbeat. It helps calm her down enough to pull back and unfurl her fingers from his sweater.

“I’m sorry. I ruined your shirt.”

“I’ll send you my dry cleaning bill.”

She laughs and wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“I’ll stay with you until we hear from Tony, okay? You won’t be dealing with this by yourself.”

“Merry Christmas to you. Dealing with me.”

“It’s not so bad. I finally had a snowball fight that didn’t land me in bed for two weeks.”

“It was a pretty tame snowball fight.”

“You an expert?”

“I let you off easy.”

“Then I demand a rematch.”

She gives him a small smile that he returns.  She is glad he’s here. She’d feel a lot more scared if he wasn’t.

“So, what were you doing before I ruined your mood?”

“Shut up, you didn’t ruin anything.” She wipes her eyes again.” I was reading this.”

“What…the…hell?” He takes it and studies it, turning it over.

“Open it.”

His eyebrows shoot up when he reads the inscription.

“This is Banner’s?”

“Isn’t that hilarious?”

“Wow.”

“And the writing is so bad. Look at the preview.”

‘Geraldine was so overcome with the wild lure of lust that she threw herself into the arms of beefy abandon’? What do you mean? That never happened to you?” There’s a glint in his eyes that makes Nicolette smirk._ Steve Rogers is fucking funny._ She looks at him holding back her smile.

“No. Did you encounter a lot of beefy abandon in World War II?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Except for Rocket Tits.” Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively. Steve shakes his head.

“I can’t believe Banner is into that. He’s a doctor.”

“It’s teaching me a lot. All sorts of turns of phrase I didn’t know. Like forbidden lady valley.”

Steve sputters. She’s smiling. He stares at her.

“You’re making that up.”

Nicolette thumbs her way through the book until she finds it again and shows him.

“That is just horrible.”

“It’s the worst.” Her tongue pokes through her teeth as she giggles. It’s good she’s happy again.

Steve stands up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She nods.

She reads until Steve asks if she wants dinner. She agrees because there’s only so much smut she can read especially when it’s not even hot. She hopes as a man of science that Bruce doesn’t refer to cum as “female nectar”. It’s just embarrassing. She sets the book down on the coffee table.

“This place is bugged, right?” She asks as she sits down at the table.

“Yes. Look, I’m sorry, but—”

“I get it. Comes with the territory. I’m not upset.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I was wondering though.”

“Yeah?”

“Is there any way to keep it off until I’m asleep? I don’t need S.H.I.E.L.D. having a record of me reading that terrible book,” she jokes. Government surveillance isn’t her favorite thing. She doesn’t even really know why they’re recording them inside the house, but she’s too tired to argue and Steve would be the one to take the brunt of it when it’s not his doing.

“Um, sure.” Steve nods and goes into the small control closet. He shuts off the audio devices but keeps the cameras outside on.

Steve comes back with the chicken pot pies and conversation flows a little easier compared to yesterday. It’s mostly Nicolette complaining about the book and Steve blushing, but it’s something.

“Can we finish that movie from last night? I don’t remember what happened after they got to the house.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He remembers how to work the TV and DVD player to put it back on for her.

“Aren’t you gonna sit?” She gathers her shoulder-length hair to one side.

“I’ll be right back. You watch though.” He nods and walks away.

She shrugs it off and watches Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant spar yet again. When Steve does return, it’s with two mugs of hot chocolate. She takes one from him eagerly.

“I always wanted this when it snowed. But we didn’t have it often.” He shrugs.

“I had the fancy shit made from melted chocolate.” She blows on it.

“Thank you. I had no idea I grew up poor while you had millions of dollars.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. The hot chocolate is good.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“This dude—she cannot marry this dude. He’s so boring and she has two perfectly good options right there.” She looks back at the movie.

“I’m not saying a word.”

She watches Jimmy Stewart get drunk while Cary Grant tries to talk to him.

“What if they fell in love?”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen here.”

“Gay people existed!”

“They did, but not in mainstream Hollywood movies.”

“True. It took me a long time to realize I’m bisexual cause I didn’t see it on TV or movies a lot.”

Steve chokes on his last sip of hot chocolate.

“Oh, you are?”

“Yep, that a problem?”

“No, it’s—it’s nice.”

Nicolette raises her eyebrows in a way that makes Steve laugh.

“I mean it. You love who you love. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“Progressive for an old man.”

“Full of surprises.”

She squints cautiously before looking back at the movie. He can tell she’s engrossed when she leans forward.

“Did she sleep with Mike? Like that’s what they’re implying.”

“Maybe if you watch the movie you’ll find out.”

“Can it, smartass.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face.”

“I’m very terrified.”

She swings her foot over his thigh and he catches it.

“You didn’t think this through.” His thumb brushes the arch of her foot.

“Shut up.” She squirms.

“Oh, are you ticklish?” He raises his eyebrows.

“No, I’m fine.” She grimaces.

“I don’t think you are.” His fingers dance up the sole of her foot. She giggles trying to move away, but he grabs her ankle.

“Don’t make me murder you!”

“Yeah, yeah yeah.” He gently tugs her back towards him and she cackles as he tickles her feet up to her waistline.

“Okay! I give! I’m terribly ticklish and I hate it!” She relents.

Steve freezes, hovering over her keeping his hands planted on either side with plenty of room for her to push him away if she really wants. Nicolette pants heavily from all her squirming and looks up at him, smiling. His sea-blue eyes scan her face and steal a glance at her heaving chest. The warmth off of his carved body makes her stomach flip. Suddenly, those anxious thoughts are nowhere to be found. His hand reaches forward and brushes the strands of hair away from her mouth. She’s lightheaded and nothing has happened. His fingers trace her sharp cheekbone as she draws in a breath. He isn’t sure who is the hunter and the prey. Her pink tongue wets her lips and suddenly, he can’t look anywhere else. She shifts her hips up towards him and just barely lifts her eyebrows.

“Steve?” she whispers even though they’re the only two in the cabin.

“We…” He can smell her shampoo and her lotion. _Why does she smell so good? _“We should finish the movie.”

If she’s disappointed, she doesn’t show it. She just nods. It takes all of his strength, but he moves off of her. Steve takes a deep breath before grabbing their mugs and taking them to the kitchen. He takes his time cleaning them. What the hell was that? He remembers scornful glances when he offered his date a snack at the World’s Fair. He remembers flirting with that beautiful SSR officer, kissing her, and then being shot at by Peggy for it. He remembers the good luck kiss Peggy gave him. He knows he’s not good with women—he never knows what they’re thinking in general. But— whatever this is—he doesn’t know what to do with it. His head is swimming. It was a game of cat and mouse, but the sides are constantly changing. It’s a game he’s never played. He cards a hand through his dark blond hair and sighs.

Nicolette grabs the remote off the couch and rewinds the movie. It’s only been 10 minutes. She could’ve sworn that was at least 30 minutes. She snuggles into the arm of the couch and looks at the movie. She loves to flirt. It’s a fun push and pull and she’s very good at it. Sometimes, it’s harmless and other times it can lead somewhere else which is what makes it so exciting. Is this banter with a potential new friend or less than platonic?  But this? The raw animalistic energy between them isn’t something she’s ever felt before. If things had escalated any further, she doesn’t know she would’ve stopped him. So right now, it’s perfectly fine with her that he’s in the kitchen.

He eventually comes back to the couch and they finish the movie.

“That was sweet.”

“You liked it?”

“Yeah.” She lets out an unexpected yawn.

“Tired?”

“I’m not a hiker.”

“I noticed.”

“I’m more of a yoga and pilates with some barre kind of girl. I’m wiped.”

“Let’s go to bed then.”

She gives him a look and he blushes. It’s a perfectly innocent statement, but he makes it so easy.

“I meant you go to your bed and I go to my bed for sleep. Just sleep.”

“Good night, Captain Steve.” She holds back a smile and gets off the couch.

“Good night, Nicolette.” He clears his throat.

Nicolette keeps running. Her legs are tired and her lungs are on fire, but she can’t stop. If she stops, she’s dead. She rounds the corner. He’s there. He doesn’t have a face. Why doesn’t he have a face? She yells and runs right into another person. None of them have faces. She screams.

“Nicolette!”

She can feel her heart hammering against her ribs. She whips her head around and starts kicking her legs.

“Let me go!”

“Nicolette, wake up. Wake up. It’s not real.” His voice is stern but gentle.

Her eyes snap open and she sees Steve sitting on the edge of her bed. She gasps like she’s been punched in the stomach and stares at him. Concern colors his face.

“S-Steve?”

“Yeah.” He turns on the light near the bed. She looks around the room, not recognizing it. “We’re at the safe house in the mountains.”

“I could’ve—I was running.” She pants, eyes wide.

“You had a nightmare,” Steve tries to get her to look at him.

“I couldn’t see his face,” she rubs her throat. It’s raw and dry.

“Let me get you some water.” He pushes down on the bed to stand up.

“No!” She reaches out. “Don’t go.”

“Okay.” He takes her hand in his.

“This is real?” Tears burn in her eyes. She just wants to scream until she can’t make a sound. She can feel every nerve in her body like she’s on fire. She wants to run.

“This is very real. You’re safe.” He squeezes her hand.

“I never have nightmares.” She sighs.

“You’ve had a rough couple of days.” He frowns.

She whimpers, hanging her head. The tears slip down her face. Her shoulders shake as the sobs threaten to give way. She’s already cried too much in front of him. He didn’t sign up for this.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“For waking you up. For being so weak. I’m such a mess.”

Her big blue eyes are flooded with fresh tears.

“I’m not as tough as I thought.”

“You’re plenty tough.”

She scoffs. He gently places his thumb under her chin, tipping it up until their eyes meet.

“I mean it and I’m a terrible liar.”

Her lips tremble as she stares back at him, unable to speak. She just whimpers. He rests his chin on the top of her head and strokes her hair. It’s a simple gesture, but it helps.  It reminds her that she’s a person. He’s very comforting. They stay like that until she can breathe again. He pulls back and locks his eyes on hers.

“You’re safe now. I promise.”

“T-Thank you.”

She presses her lips together and he shifts towards her, eyes still on her mouth. She inches closer and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”

“That’d be nice.”

“I’ll be right back.”

She lets out a slow breath and sniffles. Her hand rests on her heart which is beating normally. She doesn’t know if she can go back to sleep. He returns and hands her the glass. She brings it to her lips and lets the cold liquid run down her burning throat. She finishes the whole glass and he takes it.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

He leaves the room again and comes back, standing awkwardly next to her bed.

“You can sit.” She moves over. “I-I don’t wanna be alone just yet.”

Steve climbs in next to her and the bed sinks under his weight. He’s practically on the edge.

“Don’t do this often, huh?”

“What?”

“Slumber parties with ladies.”

“That obvious?”

“You’re so far away.”

Steve chuckles.

“I promise I won’t bite you.” She shows him her perfect teeth.

He moves closer to her while still maintaining a healthy distance. She’s right. He’s never shared a bed with a woman that wasn’t his mother. Their first apartment only had one bed and they lived there until he was eight.

“And whoever is listening, I had a bad dream. Nothing else is happening.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you like working for S.H.I.E.L.D.? When you’re not babysitting spoiled brats?”

“It’s a way to serve.”

“So is Greenpeace or the Peace Corp. Hell, even Planned Parenthood does a lot of good.”

He furrows his brow.

“Environment. Volunteering abroad. Reproductive health and rights.”

“Oh.“

“I just mean you don’t have to serve…like that.”

“It’s familiar.”

“Is it though?”

“It’s different, yeah, but the objective is the same.”

“Ehh, you don’t seem like a take orders guy.”

He raises his eyebrows and she smirks.

“Why not?”

“Cause—ugh don’t ever share this—but you’re like surprisingly sassy. Sassmaster 5000. You don’t look it, but you are. Doesn’t fit.”

“As as Stark, you would know.”

“We’re more sarcastic, but yes. It’s our love language.”

“Love language?”

“We need to make you a list, grandpa. I could get you an iPad.”

“I’ll stick to good ol’ pen and paper.”

She playfully rolls her eyes.

“Why not the Army or FBI or CIA? You could hunt serial killers.”

“What like that movie with the guy who eats people?”

Her mouth falls open.

“You’ve seen The Silence of the Lambs?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“No.”

“Big surprise. So why S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“The founders.”

“Howard and Director Carter.”

“Why do you call him Howard?”

“It’s his name.”

“Do you remember him at all?”

“Not really. He was busy. My mom was around more. She didn’t expect to have a baby at 40. Tony says she was great. Anyway. Captain America: The Spy Chapter.”

“I’m still getting used to the spy stuff.”

“Yeah, you gotta get better at lying. Spies do a lot of lying.” She pokes him in the chest.

“Thanks.”

“You said it.”

“How come you don’t have a big mansion with fancy cars? Or a J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

She shrugs.

“It’s just me. And I was raised by my Nana. She had money, but not Stark money. That helped. I would be such an asshole if I grew up how Tony did.”

“So, it’s not hereditary?”

She laughs but tries to pass it off as a gasp.

“That was funny, Captain Steve.”

“I didn’t wanna disappoint.”

She rests her head on the pillow and looks up at him.

“Regale me of tales of the old times. What the hell did you do all day without TV?”

“I was sick. A lot. Got into fights. A lot.”

“With the Sharks and the Jets?”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Did you win any fights?”

“No.”

She narrows her eyes which makes him laugh.

“Then how are you alive?”

“Bucky’d swoop in.”

“Good job Bucky. You had shorty rage. I get it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, everyone is bigger than you and you can’t stand it.”

“Okay, that’s something you have.”

“Hmm. What were you fighting?”

 “Bullies.”

“Were you a bunch of newsies? I’m referencing all these musicals and you’re so confused.”

Steve shakes his head. She’s right. He has no idea what she’s referencing.

“Buck was good at picking up jobs, but no one wanted to hire me.”

“Assholes.”

He frowns and she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t stop him from roping me into his plans, especially if there was a dame.”

“Hehe, you said ‘dame’. You’d go on adventures?”

“I guess you can call ‘em that. We didn’t have a lotta money, so we had to get creative.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t wanna hear an old man’s stories.”

Her big blue eyes stare up at him.

“I asked.”

He’s so used to keeping these stories to himself since there’s no one who wants to hear them. She clears her throat and raises her eyebrows expectantly. He thinks it over wondering which one would entertain her the most. Maybe something about trying to get that feral cat to be their pet. No, she’d find that stupid because it was. He decides on when he first went to Coney Island and refused to go on any of the rides. Bucky had to trick him to go back and practically forced him to go on the Cyclone. He gets so wrapped up in the story that he doesn’t realize she’s fallen asleep until he’s done. Her arm is draped across his stomach. She looks so peaceful. He gingerly lifts her arm and pulls the covers over her.

Nicolette wakes up to an empty bed. She peers over the edge of the mattress and sees Steve fast asleep on the floor. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Ever the gentleman. She steps out of bed and over his sleeping form. There are no creases on his brow like usual. He looks peaceful like Sleeping Beauty with all that dark blond hair just begging to be ruffled. She scrunches her face and goes back to sleep.

She wakes up to a cracking sound outside. She pads over to the window to find the source. It’s Steve chopping firewood in a sweater—a tight sweater that outlines all the muscles on his chest and arms. She isn’t really into ripped guys, but she’s not going to ignore this marvel of science. She watches shamelessly as his big arms come down with the axe splitting the wood in half and ignores the rush of heat on her neck. She could watch him do this the entire day. Suddenly, he looks up at her window.

“Fucking fuck!” She yelps and ducks down hoping he didn’t catch her leering at him. She groans and kicks her legs like a little kid. _Get a hold of yourself. _ She decides to get dressed and do some yoga. Maybe she could center herself and calm down.

Steve gathers up the firewood for tonight and goes to check on her. She had a rough night. He wouldn’t blame her if she’s still asleep.

“Hey,“ He stops at the sight of her sitting up and stretching her hands towards her feet effortlessly. He can see the exposed skin on her back as she grips her toes.

“Hey.” She says, not looking at him. “I shoulda done this before the hike.”

“Uh-huh.” He nods, but he’s not entirely sure what she just said as he gets a full look down her tank top.  His eyes suddenly find his feet very interesting until she moves. She presses her stomach into the floor and he raises his gaze.

“What’s up?” She bends her upper half towards the ceiling.

“Just checking on you. That y-yoga?”

“Mhmm.”

“Did you want breakfast?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

The way her tank top clings to her chest as she breathes is not lost on him.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Hm?”

“Yeah—you are—so great.” He rubs his palms together nervously.

She presses her hands in the carpet ahead of her and rests the rest of her body on her thighs. She lets out a contented sigh and he raises his eyebrows.

“I’ll be downstairs.” He all but runs out of the room.

She gets up, confused, and looks around the room trying to figure out what just happened. She was just doing stretches. Was he turned on or something? No, that’s stupid. He’s a Boy Scout. Intrigued, all the same, she sprints downstairs.

He’s already doing push-ups and sweat glistens on his forehead. She’s exhausted just looking at him.

“Does that ever get tiring?” She leans down.

“Not really.” He keeps his gaze ahead of him.

“Or boring?” She tilts her head making him look at her.

“I mix things up. Keep challenging myself.”

“How do you challenge yourself?”

“Number of reps. Weights.”

“Weights?”

“Yeah, put a weight on my back or something.”

“What? Like this?” She sits on his lower back.

“Yeah.” He stops and looks up at her.” I can do it.”

“No, I was kidding.” She shakes her head and stands up.

“Just sit down.”

“If you say so.”

She cautiously sits keeping her hands on either side. His muscles are so hard and defined. He pushes down and she cackles, feeling ridiculous as she jostles a bit.

“Why did I agree to this terrible idea?”

“I can’t even feel you.”

“I’m a dainty lady.”

“You really weigh nothing.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, Captain Steve. Though it’s not accurate.”

“Very accurate.”

He thought it would be kind of silly and fun and only meant to do it once, but considering how much it makes her laugh, it’s too good to pass up. If he didn’t feel her breathing, he wouldn’t even know she’s on him. She tries to hold back her laughter each time he goes down.

“This is totally not one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done.”

Jordan and Lucy would have a field day with this.

“Two more and we’re done.”

“The world can’t handle an uneven amount of pushups.”

“Okay, done.”

She jumps off immediately and he stands up. She’s blushing. He has no idea why she’s so flustered. She didn’t do anything.

“I’m sure that added nothing to your workout,” she smiles.

“Wouldn’t say that,” he smiles back and steps forward. _She just looks so cute. _

Is he actually flirting right now? Like for real? He gets closer until he’s backed her into the wall. His heart is beating wildly because he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He just wants to be closer to her. She smirks as he looms over her making the butterflies build in her stomach. He hasn’t been shaving and she can see the stubble growing on his perfect jawline.

He looks up briefly at the metal bar he’s been using for his pull-ups.

“Pull-ups are very difficult for the vertically challenged.”  She follows his gaze.

He grabs her by the waist and she yelps in surprise as he lifts her until she grabs the bar.

“Try it now.”

His large thumbs brush her ribcage and she worries she’s going to pass out. _How is he so warm? _He ignores how soft her hair feels on his face or how he’s inhaling her shampoo. She pulls herself up and cheers.

“Got another in ya?” He laughs

“No.” She squeaks.

He sets her back down and keeps his eyes on her. There’s a buzz in the air like the one in her bones. She tugs her bottom lip in between her teeth and his gaze follows. She looks up at him and rests her palms against the wood paneling on the wall. His hand reaches forward and she sucks in a breath. He brushes her hair away from her mouth. Her heart is in her throat. His brow knits together and then he walks away. He just walks away and goes upstairs. He scrubs a hand over his face.

“What the hell was that, Rogers?” He shakes his head.

“What the fuck was that?” She fans herself. She’s so turned on and nothing happened. He didn’t cop a feel or anything when he was holding onto her. He kept those giant warm hands in a completely respectful place. She wonders what they’d feel elsewhere and then shakes her head. No. You’re not Jordan. He’s not a human sex toy.

She stays in her room reading only leaving to get some food. So much for calming herself down. He keeps himself busy with updates on her apartment. Nothing suspicious has happened which means they will be back tomorrow—thank god. He doesn’t know if he could handle another day in the middle of nowhere with her. His attraction is only growing and that’s not a good thing. Yes, she’s beautiful. Yes, they’ve kissed. But that’s where it needs to end. He shouldn’t be acting like this.

Dinner is very quiet, but things relax as they watch another movie, All About Eve which isn’t about anything romantic. Since they have an early start, they decide to get ready for bed. She’s still in the bathroom when he sets up camp on her floor. She walks over to the bed and gives him a look. He shrugs. She rolls her eyes and rips back the covers. He shakes his head. She pats the mattress. It’s a queen-sized bed. They can fit. He settles down on the floor. She snaps her fingers and he looks up. She points down at the bed. He sighs and gets in next to her. He puts his pillow down and she leaves a lot of room between them not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. As if she took up any room in the bed, to begin with. He reminds himself, This doesn’t mean anything.

Head down as he moves through the forest. Bucky on his right. Bucky on the train. Bucky’s gone. A roar from a Chitauri ship. Explosions everywhere. On the Valkyrie. Sinking into the ice. Darkness and cold. He jolts awake. His blue eyes dart around as he takes in the room and the small frame of the woman sleeping next to him. She sighs and rolls over. The moonlight scatters across her brown hair and along with the white sheets. Her hand rests on her stomach as her breath rises and falls. She looks like a painting.

“You okay?”

He finds her eyes looking at him in the dark.

“Did I wake you?” His brow furrows.

“Light sleeper.” She doesn’t sound angry.

“Sorry.” He sighs.

“Now, we’re even.” She smiles.

He lays back down and swallows hard wondering what’s waiting for him when he closes his eyes. Even though it wasn’t popular in his time, he’s kept up with his S.H.I.E.L.D. mandated psychiatry appointments. He doesn’t really know what to say, but he goes and tries his best to open up to a stranger. It doesn’t stop the nightmares. They said they didn’t want him to be overwhelmed—almost everyone he knew was dead—but don’t be overwhelmed.

“What did your mom do when you couldn’t sleep?” Her voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

“She’d sing a hymn.” He can’t help but smile when he thinks of it.

There’s a moment of silence and he wonders if she fell asleep. He wouldn’t blame her. He doesn’t even know how late it is.

“Away in a manger no crib for a bed.” The soft sound of her voice reaches his ears. He knows all the words to this song. She rests her chin on her pillow and sees his tense body relax, so she keeps singing even though she feels sheepish. He lets out the breath that’s been stuck in his lungs. His eyelids start to feel heavy and it’s hard to keep them open. There’s no war. No aliens. No one is screaming. All he can hear is her voice.

In the morning, she wakes up before he does. Her face burns when she thinks about her little concert. She isn’t just this asshole who sings at people. She didn’t plan on serenading Captain America in the middle of the night. She saw how scared he looked. She had one traumatic attack. He’s had years. The tears burn in her eyes and she blinks them back. She slips out of the bed.

It doesn’t take them long to pack up. Steve grabs a few of the DVDs they didn’t watch. He’ll give them back to Fury. She snatches up the romance novel hoping she can see the look on Banner’s face when she hands it to him. The drive back is much more relaxed. She doesn’t turn off the Christmas music. Instead, she tries to get him to learn about Mariah Carey and George Michael. She claps when he tries to sing along to Bruce Springsteen. She doesn’t wanna push her luck too much, so she buries her nose in her book for the last hour of the trip.

There’s a sudden sense of dread when he pulls into her parking space. She gulps down air and looks at him. He goes in first while she waits in the lobby. The agents had told him it was clear, but he wants to check for himself. Her heart hammers in her chest ready to burst until she sees him come back down the stairs. He smiles and she relaxes. She’s never been so happy to see her coffee table in her entire life. She throws herself on the couch which makes Steve chuckle.

“Glad to be home?”

“Yes!”

He leaves her be and goes upstairs. She spies her phone in a bowl on the table and snatches it up. It’s on when she knows it was off when she handed it over. She hits a few keys and Tony’s software pops on the screen. First, it scans for any tracking and listening devices from S.H.I.E.L.D. It finds them right away and she smiles as it obliterates them from her phone. She didn’t mind having the bodyguard (especially such a beautiful bodyguard), but she did not consent to be spied on. How would that keep her safe? She runs the scanning app for her apartment. It finds 8 little bugs— 4 on the first floor and 4 on the second. She gladly crushes every one of them with her foot. Let them bill her.

She hops up the stairs two at a time and dives into her bed.  She hits Jordan’s number and she answers immediately.

“Finally! Luce, she’s got her phone back.” Jordan yells.

“Ugh, I missed you guys.” Nicolette sighs.

“Where did they take you?” Lucy asks.

“I can’t tell you. It’s a safe house.” She shakes her head.

“You okay, Nikki?” Jordan asks.

“Yeah, I will be. Had a bit of a scare.” She doesn’t want to worry them.

“These weird dudes answered your phone. Said they were from S.H.I.E.L.D. which is the worst name for an agency—“

“Shut up, Jor. What happened?” Lucy must’ve shoved her or something because Jordan growls.

“They blew up my car. Then this guy kicked the shit out of me.” She swallows back any emotion caught in her throat.

“Babe!” Lucy’s voice cracks.

“Who is this fucker?” Jordan’s out for blood.

“He’s dead. Steve got him.” Nicolette wipes her eyes.

“Fucking right he did,” Jordan snaps.

“Steve? Oooh, he’s Steve now.” Lucy’s practically singing. She clearly wants to distract her best friend.

“We were in lockdown together. Yes, he’s Steve.”

“Did you fuck him?” Jordan yells out despite the phone being on speaker.

“No.”

“Boo!”

“He still a pain?”

“No, he’s not bad. Did you get the photos?”

“Yes, you were so pretty.”

“And he’s even more fuck worthy than I remember. You put the moves on him?”

Nicolette purses her lips. She wants to tell them, but what if she’s wrong? Yes, they kissed, but maybe she read the signals wrong. He doesn’t seem to let his guard down easy and he’s been nice to her. She doesn’t want to blow it all up now. And besides, a kiss is a kiss. It’s not sex. She doesn’t wanna have sex with him and he doesn’t wanna have sex with her. Right? So there’s nothing to tell.

“He’s here to protect me, not fuck me.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“W-What?”

“You are the queen of flirting. You love it. Whoever you have your sights on doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Maybe she doesn’t him that way, Jor.”

“Thank you, Lucy.”

“We love you very much and we’re glad you’re okay.”

“I love you too.”  Lucy is such a sweetie.

“I’d love you more if you fucked Captain America. He’s been frozen for how long?”

“Jordan, you’ve made your point. He was to die for in that photo. He looked awkward. So cute.”

“He’s very cute. He’s gotta be a better fuck than Duke of Asshole. It’s a Christmas miracle!”

‘Your miracles are sending you to hell, babe.”

“Same difference. He missed the entire sexual revolution. Fill him in.”

“‘Kay. I’ll get right on that.”

“Really?”

“No, not really, you idiot. That’s not what’s happening here. Look, I gotta go. I finally have my shower back.”

“Ask him to join you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Serve your country, lady.”

“Talk to you later, right, Nikki?”

“Yes, I’ll talk to you later. Love you both.”

“Love you so much, girl. Dylan’s making us go to a party as his plus twos and I haven’t done my hair. But text us.”

“Get Jordan laid, so she stops trying to live vicariously through my vagina.”

“Never gonna happen when you have a fuck worthy American icon in your house. The condoms are in the guest bathroom!”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Nicolette hops off the bed and pads over to the guest room. She lifts her hand. Maybe she shouldn’t bother him. What if it was all actual cabin fever? She’s not even his type. He’s super hot and yeah, she’s not bad, but she’s not drop-dead gorgeous. As Jordan said, it’s empirically acknowledged that he’s practically a Greek god. Why the fuck else was he on all those stupid posters? She doesn’t cast a big metaphorical or literal shadow. She’s Tony Stark’s little sister. Howard Stark’s poor orphaned daughter. The Broadway kid. Flash in the pan. Tony gets stalked by photographers and makes Best and Worst Dressed Lists for every event he attends. She always sneaks in the back door and if she’s not near Tony or any of her friends, the press only asks a few questions before moving on to more famous fare. Something that’s never bothered her before suddenly makes her feel so insignificant. She’s been told before that she doesn’t have the most sensual look—skinny arms and legs, very little curves in her hips but good boobs. Director Carter looked like a pin-up girl with a gun. She should’ve been on posters. From the way Steve talks about her, they probably had some sort of Oscar-worthy sweeping romance. She was not going to compare to that. Not that she wants that. Ugh. No, she doesn’t need to embarrass herself especially when he’s here to do a job. The second Tony’s back, it’ll be like none of this ever happened. Her phone goes off in her pocket.

Dylan Sparrow (2:41 pm)

She’s safe!! Missed you friend.

Nicolette Stark (2:41 pm)

Yes! Missed you, friend.

Dylan Sparrow (2:42 pm)

Free to talk?

Out in the hallway, Steve can hear her on the phone. She sounds very relaxed and he’s glad about that. He kind of wants to get out of the room, so she can have privacy. She must be right outside the door and his super hearing isn’t helping. He can tell it’s a man’s voice but doesn’t listen any harder. She’s laughing so hard she’s barely breathing. He hasn’t heard that this past week. Who is she talking to? He didn’t even consider the fact she might have a boyfriend. She would bring that up, wouldn’t she? Yes, she would. She’s a good person. They were locked in a house for three days. She would’ve brought it up especially when they kissed. He shakes the thoughts from his head.

They order Chinese which Steve hasn’t tried often. He likes the dumplings a lot (as in he finishes all but one of them). Nicolette gives him shit because she loves dumplings too, but thankfully, they’re in her soup. They watch How to Steal a Million and she wishes she could have every one of Audrey Hepburn’s clothes. Then, she shows him _It’s a Wonderful Life _which is something she actually owns. Steve really likes that one—no surprise. He’s practically George Bailey himself. It’s not an act. He really is just a good person. She wishes him goodnight once Bedford Falls saves their put upon hero and the bells ring.

Maybe it’s being back home, but she can’t get the image of her car blowing up out of her head. They wanted to scare her and sure as fuck succeeded. Even though she’s in her own bed, she tosses back and forth until she’s rolled up in her sheets like a crepe. She huffs and untangles herself. She’s not sleeping yet. Her eyes scan the clock on her nightstand. It’s 1:30 A.M._ Great. _She pulls on her fluffy robe and heads down to the kitchen. There’s a glow from the refrigerator and she sees Steve’s broad silhouette getting a glass of water.

“Hi.” She swallows, realizing her throat is dry.

“Hey.” Steve turns to face her.

She takes a glass and he slides out of the way, so she can fill it from the fridge. She gulps down half the glass before setting it on her counter.

“Can’t sleep?” She asks, not quite looking at him.

“Didn’t have a songbird next to me this time.” He brings his glass to his lips and drinks.

“Ahh, Jesus. I’m sorry.” She rubs her hands on her face.” I didn’t—I thought I was helping. It’s so embarrassing.”

“Nicolette.” He puts the glass down and gently removes her hands.” It was really nice of you. You have a beautiful voice—“

She scoffs.

“You have a gift.”

An emotion she can’t quite place echoes through her. She can’t think of the right words, so she just smiles and he lets go of her.

“Do you always feel like this after?” She pushes her fingers through her hair ready to rip it out at the roots. Her knuckles are white.

“Some are tougher to shake than others.” He places his hand on her shoulder and she sighs, letting her arms fall to her sides. “C’mon, let’s sit.”

She fills up another glass before joining him on the couch. Her back relaxes against her couch. It’s familiar and safe.

“We’re the last two up at the sleepover.”

“Hm?”

“Everyone else has gone to bed, but you’re not tired yet.”

“I only had ‘em with Bucky and I was up cause he rattled like the radiator.”

“You missed out, dude. All the games. M.A.S.H. Truth or Dare. Witchcraft. Goat sacrifice.”

“I bet those last two were popular.”

“Very. Wanna play?”

“We don’t have any goats.”

“I meant M.A.S.H. or Truth or Dare. M.A.S.H. is like who you marry, your job—as I’m explaining it—-it’s stupid.” She shakes her head and licks her lips.” Truth or Dare is you get to pick truth or dare and like your truth could be who is your crush and I dare you to call them or something. Silly sleepover stuff. I’m very sleep-deprived right now because I am not—this is stupid. I’m gonna drink some NyQuil and go to bed.”

She gets on her feet, but he touches her hand. She looks down and he pulls it away.

“NyQuil like cough medicine?”

“Yeah, it makes you tired.”

“No, don’t drug yourself. I’ll play your game.”

“It’s not my game.”

“The game.”

“So, go. Truth or dare?” She sits back down and turns towards him.

“Truth.”

“Shocker. What’s something you hate that you’ve never told anyone cause it’s ridiculous?”

Steve laughs, trying to think. Nicolette tilts her head, waiting.

“Okay. I hate pigeons.”

“Every New Yorker hates pigeons.”

“No, they would follow me around and I was seven I remember fighting a bunch of pigeons who tried to steal my lunch. If I see one on the street, I wanna kick ‘em.”

“Steve Rogers, fighter of pigeons.”

“Yep. So truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Do one of your routines.”

“My what?”

“From the video, Tony showed us.”

“You remember that?”

“Stop stalling.”

“Uh, I’m not. It’s like 2 in the morning. I have no music or people to dance with. Unless you’re offering?”

“No no no. I don’t—no—I’m not a dancer.”

“I’m not a dancer either, Steve!”

“You at least know what you’re doing.”

“C’mon, you know how to dance, Mr. USO.”

“Not really. All the girls did the dancing. I just stood there and lifted some people.”

She stares at him for a while. He has no idea what she’s thinking. Suddenly,

she hops up to her feet and turns on her stereo. A song Steve has never heard before starts playing quietly. A woman starts vocalizing.

“Keep in mind. I haven’t done this since Tony made me perform at a benefit like 3 years ago. And I am not singing.”

The beat picks up and Nicolette moves to the middle of her living room.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. You asshole.” She sighs. Steve chuckles at that. What else was he going to dare her to do? Eat a quarter?

“Just dance.”

“That’s funny but you have no idea why cause you don’t know who this is.”

Her hands move rhythmically from her hips to her mouth and frame her face as she marches forward. She shifts her weight to one leg then the other before flipping her hair. She giggles as she feels a rush of blood to her head. She lets out a slow breath before continuing. She swings her hips in a circle ending with a sharp snap of her hands on her body. Steve tries his best not to be entranced by her movements. He hadn’t expected a move so sensual. She gets on the floor and then shakes her head.

“No, this part is silly. I’m good. Dare done.”

Steve claps. He didn’t really expect her to do anything, but apparently, Nicolette Stark doesn’t back down from a dare.

“Okay.” She throws herself back on the couch and lands right next to him.” Truth or dare?”

“I feel like I have to say dare after that.” He swallows hard at how close they are. Her arm brushes against his.

“Dance with me.”

“No, no.”

“I just acted like a total asshole and danced to Lady Gaga.”

“You were great.”

“I only did it cause I thought this would work.”

She gets to her feet and tries to pull him to his feet. Her heels dig into the carpet and she tugs. It’s like trying to move a statue. She’s really using all her strength here and she knows she’s about to fall over. He sighs, not wanting her to get hurt, and stands up. She stumbles back and his hand grabs her waist, steadying her.

“Now, you have to dance with me.”

She goes over to the stereo and steals a look back at him. He puts his hands out. He’s not sitting back down.

“I don’t know if I have anything from the ’40s, but I’ll pick a slow jam.”

Steve tries his best not to groan. He knows this is gonna be bad. The song isslow and in French. She has her hands on his shoulders, so he places his on her waist.

“See, we’re like middle school kids at a dance.”

He’s letting her lead. She’s good at it. He doesn’t stare at his feet too much (he hopes).  A part of him that he’s trying to ignore wants to pull her closer and just sway his body with hers. Thankfully, that part doesn’t win. It’s a very innocent dance and they’re barely moving. She’s really taking it easy on him. The song is over very quickly.

“Thanks. You’re free to go.”

Steve smiles down at her smirking face. His thumbs trace her sides and he hears the sharp inhale of her breath. Nicolette just stares at him. Four blue eyes lock. There’s no more music, but he’s still holding her. He leans in and she freezes.

“We should sit, right?”

“Right.”

She lays back against the pillows with a heavy sigh. He joins her. After a few minutes, he realizes she’s fallen asleep. He sighs feeling his eyelids fluttering shut. As his mind starts to drift off, he feels her head slip onto his shoulder.

It’s the first time she’s woken up next to him and not flipped out. They go about the morning like nothing happened because really, nothing did happen. Steve comes down the stairs to see Nicolette pressed into the floor with her face down and her legs are in a full split. He can see the alabaster skin on her back. His fingers itch wanting to run down her spine. He turns on his heel and goes back upstairs to shower.  

As the warm water pours down on him, he tries to focus on the strong pressure and not how flexible she is or what a great body she has. It wasn’t just that she’s the first woman he’s kissed since he woke up. He’s not that desperate or creepy. It’s the fact she’s…her. She’s intelligent and funny. She’s so beautiful with those blue eyes and that brown hair that would be so perfect to run his fingers through.  And her lips. She’s so warm and soft he’s sure she’s like that all over. He clenches his jaw. This line of thinking is going straight to his groin—not that he’s going to do anything about it. Not in her shower. Unless she joined him. He could push her against the glass and take her right here. What kind of noises would she make? Could he make her tremble? No, this is the exact opposite of what he should be thinking about.

“Dammit, Rogers. Brooklyn sold the Dodgers. Brooklyn sold the Dodgers.”

When he comes downstairs, he hears the other shower going. She must be done with her yoga. He walks around looking at her photos again. Before, he was trying to get a read on her and didn’t really know what to think. Now, he sees her being comfortable with people she cares about: Tony, Pepper, Jordan, Lucy. He still doesn’t know who the tall blond guy is, but they’re in a lot of photos together ranging from when she was a child to an adult. In one, his tie matches her dress and they both look very fresh-faced and youthful as he dips her.  In another, they’re in graduation caps and gowns and he has her on his shoulders while she holds an NYU diploma over her head.

“Oh, that’s Dylan. He’s my oldest friend. Such a dork.” She chuckles as she walks up to him.

 Steve isn’t proud of the way he feels himself relax at this new information. He shouldn’t care.

“Did your ladies like the photos?” He looks over at her in her blue sweater and black lounge pants.

“Yeah. A little too much. Jordan thinks you’re very attractive.” She presses her lips together.

“A Hollywood actress thinks I’m attractive?” His eyebrows shoot up.

She just rolls her eyes at him.

“Now, c’mon. I wanna show you some movies about irresponsible parents who abandon their child twice at Christmas.” She walks over to the couch.

It all feels very domestic watching Christmas movies on her couch and ordering Mexican food. They power through _Home Alone _and Home Alone 2. She turns on the television and sees the original Miracle on 34th Street which Steve enjoys very much because it’s a New York he remembers.  Maybe because of how late they were up the night before, she goes up to bed after _White Christmas _which was much longer than she remembered.

Of course, once she gets in bed, she’s no longer tired, so she decides to finish the romance novel. Dalton and Geraldine admit their love for each other, but her father finds out and banishes him. Geraldine runs away from home and goes after him. Apparently, she can’t live without that dick. There’s a gunfight between Dalton and her fiancé and they go off together then fuck in a barn. So super classy.

The bar door swings open and a tall man in a cream-colored Stetson staggers in with his hands on his belt.  It’s night and she can barely see him. Thunder cracks above them as he pulls her to him in the shadows. She tips his hat back to see his face and fully expects to see Timothy Olyphant. She’s been reading this book for a few days and she’s only human. But it’s—Steve. Steve is the cowboy holding her. He rips off her cheap blonde wig.

“I wanna see you.”

They stare at each other for what feels like forever. Finally, she lunges forward and they kiss. He backs her against the wall and secures her legs around his waist. His mouth is everywhere. Thunder rumbles again deafening their sounds.

“Shit!” She wakes up with the book on her chest. Fuckingfuckonashitstick. Her heart is beating wildly and sweat covers her forehead. She closes her eyes and lets out a breath. She wasn’t even denying it well to begin with, but she admits the truth to herself. Steve Rogers works with her brother. Steve Rogers is technically a grandpa. Steve Rogers is her bodyguard. Steve Rogers is Captain goddamn America. And she, Nicolette Stark, wants to fuck Steve Rogers.

Nicolette goes downstairs on Christmas Eve and tries to be as quiet as possible. Steve is already up and the first thing that pops into her mind is him fucking her in her dream. She’s so glad he doesn’t know how to read minds as Jordan’s words echo in her head, “You are the queen of flirting. You love it. Whoever you have your sights on doesn’t stand a chance.”

Jordan’s right. There’s no harm in trying. If it doesn’t work, then she’ll deal with it. They’re probably not gonna see each other anyway. She never works with the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D.  

“I’m sorry your Christmas Eve is going to be so boring,” Steve tells her.

“You should be very sorry.” She gives him a small smile.

He chuckles and looks away from her.

“I’ll be right back.”

She calls up one of her favorite restaurants that she knows does Christmas dinners. She doesn’t care about the cost. She just needs a dinner for two. It can be his present (if her other present doesn’t work). After, she comes down with different boxes.

“What’s this?”

“Christmas decorations. I was gonna do it earlier, but I got a little sidetracked.”

Her smile falters a bit and he gets to his feet.

“Need help?”

“Love some.”

She puts on the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas and starts decorating. Steve isn’t surprised to see she has some very tasteful decorations, but she swears they’re just from a place called Crate and Barrel. Steve’s mom kept things in their budget, so it usually meant that he made the decorations since he was the artist. It takes most of the day, but it looks like a magazine when they’re done. He puts the final ornament on the tree when she hands him a box.

“It’s the star. I usually get a ladder but you can do it, can’t ya, buddy?”

“Yes, I can.”

She takes a few pictures on her phone to send to her friends and ignores the stirring in her chest when she realizes it’s the first Christmas Eve she’s not going to speak to Tony. She swallows hard and blinks back tears.

“You okay?” Steve’s hand is on her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She nods. “You should get ready for dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yep. I hope you like it.”

Her phone goes off as she goes up the stairs. It’s the group text.

Jordan Rosa (5:31 pm)

Merry Christmas Eve to my favorite cunt.

Lucy Anderson (5:32 pm)

Your apartment looks so cute! Miss you!!

Dylan Sparrow (5:32 pm)

I’m lost without you…boo

Nicolette Stark (5:45 pm)

**I hate all of you except Lucy. **

Dylan Sparrow (5:37 pm)

Merry Happy Christmas Eve.

Nicolette Stark (5:38 pm)

**Love you dingdongs.  Merry Happy Christmas Eve. **

 She takes a quick shower and blow-dries her hair. She picks a burgundy sweater dress. She hasn’t worn a lot of makeup lately, so she draws focus to her eyes and her lips. With a quick spray of perfume on her wrists and neck, she’s done.

“Whoa. I mean. Wow. I mean. You look so beau—nice you look nice,” Steve stammers out. He suddenly feels underdressed in his sweater and jeans.

“Thanks, Captain Steve.” She smiles. “The food’s in the lobby. I wasn’t sure if I should go get it.”

“Let me do that. Least I could do.” Steve nods.

It gives her a chance to actually set her dinner table and pull out the candles. She makes sure to grab the ones that look like Christmas trees, so she doesn’t completely give herself away. She pours herself a glass of wine and drinks some to calm any nerves. She grabs him a beer and puts it next to his plate. She really does want to do something nice for him. He wouldn’t have chosen this as his ideal holiday plan. Maybe a great dinner and a good fuck can make up for it. She smirks at the thought.

Steve comes back with two paper bags and brings them into the kitchen.

“So what are we having?”

“Take a seat and you’ll see.”

“Okay…”

She comes back with two plates of steak, roasted vegetables, and scalloped potatoes.

“I had a feeling you were a rare kind of guy, but if I was wrong, I can cook it longer.”

“That’s perfect. Only way to eat it.”

“Good cause I can’t cook. Don’t judge me for my medium-rare, then, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

She bows her head politely as Steve prays to himself before they dig in. It has to be the best steak he’s ever had. It’s amazing.

“Oh my god.”

She covers her mouth with her hand.

“This is—wow.”

“Consider it a thank you Christmas gift.”

“You’re gonna have to tell me where you got this.”

Steve’s in heaven and she can’t help but giggle. The food is delicious and exactly what she wanted. She’s very happy with it. For dessert, there’s a gingerbread trifle.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs.

“All a part of my evil plan.” She smiles.

He insists on helping her clean up before they finish the last of their Christmas movies. She has him watch _Gremlins _which he doesn’t fully understand, but he likes how she tries to imitate the creature named Gizmo. It’s definitely an interesting movie. His pick is The Thin Man which is one of his favorites. He’s glad it was at the safe house. Nicolette uses his departure from the couch as an excuse to move closer. If he does notice, he doesn’t say anything. He just drapes his arm over the back of the couch. She loves Nick and Nora Charles’ relationship right away. The dialogue is so sharp. He can’t help but glance over at her every time something important happens to see her reaction. She laughs a lot at their dog. She has such a lovely laugh. At one point, she catches him staring and he looks away bashfully.  She leans into his side and he doesn’t move.  

The credits roll and she sees his eyes are back on her. She turns towards him and he feels his heart skip a beat. Her stomach jumps as she takes him in. He really is stunning with those eyes and those lips. They don’t say a word. They just stare.

“Truth or dare?” he asks finally breaking the silence.

“Truth.” Her eyes sparkle and he knows even though he’s asking the question he knows she’s in charge.

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?”

She leans forward. It’s all or nothing here. Better go for it.

“Just thinking…”

She’s inching closer and he doesn’t stop her. He doesn’t want to stop her.

“Yeah?”

Her dark blue eyes dart from his mouth to his eyes, but this time neither of them are moving away.

“I wanna kiss you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as she moves in closer. Her perfume reaches his nose. It’s sweet with an edge. It’s floral and woodsy. Just a hint and it’s intoxicating. He likes it better than the shampoo or the lotion. It fits her.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” She breathes in sharply and he realizes she’s nervous too. She’s giving him an out. He’s been fighting this since they kissed. The staring. The innocent touches. The dirty thoughts. He doesn’t wanna fight it anymore.

“Yes.” He sighs.  

That’s all she needed to hear. She leans in and presses her mouth softly on his. She’s doing it. She’s kissing him again. His lips return the pressure. Oh, he’s kissing her back. But it’s not enough. She wants more of him. Her tongue swipes over his full lower lip seeking permission and he gasps. Their tongues meet and she moans. It feels electric and the sound makes him shiver. She pulls back to catch her breath. His large hands settle on her waist. He’s so warm.  She smiles up at him.  He can’t believe this is actually happening.

Without warning, he pulls her into his lap, and she yelps playfully. He doesn’t give her much time before he’s nuzzling his nose along the column of her neck. That perfume. She actually whimpers when he kisses her throat.  Her skin is as delicate as he hoped it would be. His head is buzzing. He doesn’t know what to do first. He just wants all of her.  It’s almost enough to silence the nagging voice in the back of his mind. Almost.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he says as he traces her jaw with his fingers.

“Very bad idea.” She tilts her head back. His touch is so good. She can’t wait to feel it under her clothes. Her breathing hitches at the thought.

“Wanna stop?” He freezes.

“Fuck no. Do you?” She opens her eyes forcing herself to look at him. She’s rigid and ready to bounce off him if he doesn’t want this.

“No. I-I want you. So bad.“ He can’t stop staring at her mouth. She must have some special kind of lipstick because the red shade hasn’t budged.  He cradles her pretty face with his hands and kisses her.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He should stop, but she’s so soft and warm. Her hair smells so nice and she looks so pretty after he kisses her—all flushed. Everyone thinks he’s so stuffy—a teacher’s pet—an apple polisher, but he’s just a man. A man with his hands on a gorgeous woman who wants him. A gorgeous woman he shouldn’t be touching. Lust burns through his veins.

“The fact we shouldn’t makes—“

“Makes it hotter.” She bites his lip playfully and he knows they’re done talking.

As her tongue moves against his, he runs his hands up and down her back. She’s a fantastic kisser. She rocks her hips into him and he gasps.

“You like that?” She chuckles.

If she’s not careful he’s going to dry hump her like a teen.  She isn’t used to leading, but he makes her feel safe and bold. He’s more than happy to give himself over to her because he doesn’t know what he’s doing after all this time. Her tongue runs along his jawline and she nips his earlobe while grinding into the growing hardness on his thigh and he realizes they have too many clothes on.

He tugs at the end of her sweater dress and slips it off of her. He draws in a sharp breath as he takes in her body. For being so petite, she’s quite busty.

“Everything okay?” She raises her eyebrows. She knows she isn’t as sexy as Peggy. Is he comparing us right now? No, that can’t be right. He’s a good guy. Is her bra weird? It’s cream-colored with roses on it.  Why isn’t he talking?

“Y-Yeah. You’re just so gorgeous, honey.” He smiles, realizing he’s been just staring at her.

“Right. My tits made you speechless.” She rolls her eyes.

“I mean…” Steve shrugs. “They’re fantastic.”

She giggles and buries her face in his shoulder. The fact she can’t look at him is so endearing.

“Nic,” he whispers.

She lifts her head cautiously.

“Can I call you Nic?”

“I’m topless right now in your lap. Yes.”

“And you’re the only one. That just won’t do.” He kisses her softly as her hands get lost under his sweater. She helps him pull it over his head. Her eyes grow wide as they scan his sculpted torso.

“Fuck…you’re perfect.”

Steve chuckles and can’t meet her eyes. It’s so cute; she has to kiss him. Her fingers dance down his neck and shoulders. She needs a moment to take in this unbelievable specimen of a man. Her hand traces his chest hair dusting his pectorals forming a line down his stomach disappearing into his jeans. She didn’t remember him having chest hair in her history book, but she likes it a lot. He pants heavily because she’s burning his skin with her delicate touch.  As she leaves a chain of kisses along his neck, the tent in his jeans is getting impossible to ignore. It reminds her of the ache between her legs and she needs him, bad.  She pulls back and he immediately takes hold of her waist, tugging her flush against him. He tilts his head and kisses her neck. She laughs and grabs his belt.

“We gotta get this off you.”

“Right.” He blushes. “Sorry.”

Her lips are gentle against his before she stands up. He’s never taken his pants off so fast. She just smiles and slides her leggings down. Before she gets back on top of him, he takes her wrist.

“Don’t we need…protection?” His thumb traces nonsense patterns on her skin. It feels so nice; she has to focus real hard to listen.

“Uh, yeah. Be right back.” She holds her hands out. “Don’t move.”

He watches her sprint up the stairs in disbelief. This is really happening.

She’s actually thankful Jordan’s such a horny bitch or she wouldn’t have any condoms. That would’ve been an embarrassing Christmas Eve trip to the pharmacy. _Please sell us these condoms so that Captain America can safely wreck my pussy. Merry Christmas! _It’s a multi-pack because Jordan never assumes size and will not let the wrong fit stand in the way of getting laid. She’s very determined about her sexual health. It’s smart. Nicolette catches her reflection in the mirror. She’s gonna fuck Steve Rogers. She jumps up and down then chastises herself for wasting time. Since she had to learn about it the hard way the first time, she grabs lube out of her bathroom before running back downstairs. He’s still in his boxer briefs, just waiting patiently. It’s sweet.

“I don’t know what you’re working with so…here.” She hands him the box. “They’re leftover from when Jordan was housesitting.”

Steve doesn’t hide his surprise as he looks through them. They didn’t have this many options in the ’40s. Bucky would’ve talked about it non-stop because once he started having sex Steve heard every detail (even when he didn’t want to). He grabs the one he thinks will fit best and sets the box on her coffee table. They look at each other and smile. With a deep breath, she slips her underwear down her legs.  

“I haven’t done this in a couple of years.” She admits.

“Bet I can beat your number.” He gives her a soft kiss.

“Can I—I mean I’d like to keep my bra on during sex?“

“Yeah, of course.”

She nods, grabs the lube off the table, and moves back into his lap. He hands her the condom and she rips it open. She looks down for the first time and doesn’t hide her surprise.

“Something wrong?”

“Nope.”

“Cause you’re staring.”    

“Well I just didn’t—you’re—“

“What?”

“You’re packing, Captain.”

He turns pink and she kisses him.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. Do you want to—“

“You kidding, doll? Yes, I want this. Want you.”

She puts the condom on him and strokes him to apply the lube cause he is quite_ big_. He nearly chokes at her touch. She starts to sink and lets out a shaky breath as she stretches around him. It’s really good. She doesn’t even see the nervous look on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Like I said, you’re packing.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you, honey.”

She leans forward and kisses him for being so sweet. He figures he’ll let her lead; she feels amazing.

“Ohhh.” His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head and she bites her lip, grinning before taking him in all the way. Her hands take hold of his shoulders for leverage.

“I know.” She breathes. She’s deliciously full. She doesn’t even care how long this lasts because it feels so good.

Her hips rock slowly and he feels like his heart is gonna burst. She looks so hot.  How is this happening? His mouth moves down her neck to her cleavage as he kisses the swells of her breasts bouncing in her bra. She dips her head back, gasping. Those beautiful lips are so gentle. Her small hands grip his hair securing him there. He nudges her lower back with his palm and she picks up speed.

He still can’t get enough of her. He needs more.  His large hands grip her hips and he thrusts up into her. She moans, caught off guard at how good it feels. They find their rhythm in between sloppy, biting kisses. It’s hurried and primal like the sounds they’re making.  His thrusts get more and more erratic chasing down his high. She grips his shoulders as he slams into her one more time. He comes with a short grunt and feels her relax into his chest. Their sweat-covered skin clings together and they struggle to breathe.

“That was…”

“Definitely.”

After a few moments, Nicolette slides off of him and he misses her body heat against his already.

“D’you remember how to take that off?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Steve takes the condom off and throws it in the trashcan in the kitchen as she runs off to the bathroom. He finds his boxer briefs and puts them back on. She joins him on the couch shortly after that in her underwear.

“Sex champions! Take that dry spells!” She high-fives him. He hits her hand back only slightly, feeling sheepish. He knows he didn’t last long.

“Okay, lay it on me.” Steve sighs and rests his arm over the back of the couch.

“What do you mean?” She tilts her head.

“I’m sure you have a lot to say. About…what just happened. Us being…intimate.”

Her face falls.

“You don’t make people feel bad about sex.” She looks away and he knows he hit a nerve. She didn’t even make fun of him for saying “intimate”.

“Okay.” He swallows hard and the silence settles between them. He wishes he hadn’t said anything. Things were going really well before that. He feels like an idiot. She tucks her legs under her and turns back to look at him. She knows he didn’t mean to upset her, so she puts her hand over his. Her fingers dance up his arm.

“I couldn’t tell you hadn’t done it in 70 years.” She smirks.

“Or at all?” He can feel his face get hot.

“What? What about Rocket Tits?” Her eyes grow wide.

Steve shakes his head. The shock on her face makes him smile. It’s like her brain shut down. He’s THE Hottie with a Body! And he had never had sex before? How? How?!

“But women had to be throwing themselves at you.”

“I wasn’t unpopular.”

“Understatement of the century.”

Steve laughs, still unable to give direct eye contact. He rubs the back of his neck.

“I didn’t wanna be with someone who just wanted Captain America.”

“Yeah, groupies, yikes.”

A loud laugh rumbles in his chest and his head falls back. He’s too cute. She has to kiss him.

“And you don’t like Captain America at all.”

“Nope.” She wrinkles her nose. “But Steve Rogers is turning out to be a decent guy.”

“And I’ve never met a woman like you.”

“And what am I?”

“One of a kind.” Steve leans forward and tucks her brown hair behind her ear. He wants to ask her something, but the idea makes him red from head to toe. “Did you, um, enjoy yourself?”

“You were just inside me and you can’t say come?”

He turns crimson and she grins devilishly.

“Come. Titties. Pussy. Balls. Dick.”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

She frowns and puts her hand out, apologetic.

“It’s not you. I never have during sex.”

Steve just stares at her.

“Solo time though is a whole other story.” She tries to joke, but he looks so disappointed. “Seriously, dude. Don’t worry.”

“You said you had a boyfriend.”

“It wasn’t about me.”

Steve leans back against the couch and pats his thigh.

“C’mere.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“Please. At least let me try.”

She raises her eyebrows at how adamant he’s being. There’s not really any harm here—she just doesn’t have any expectations.

“Okay.”

She leans back until she feels his hard chest against her shoulder blades as settles in his lap. His hand rests on her stomach.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yeah.”

She gasps at the feel of his hand cupping her through the fabric of her underwear. That feels nice. Nicolette lifts her hips and slides her underwear down her legs. But then, he’s kinda fumbling around. Not quite touching her long or inside her.  It feels awkward like he’s trying to find loose change in between car seats. It’s not great.

“Is that okay?”

“Well, not—.”

“Do you—“

“That’s not quite—“

“How would you do it?”

“Um.” Nicolette turns her head and feels her cheeks burn. She hadn’t expected to tell him how she gets herself off. “You sure?”

“Show me what you like.”

She lets out a slow breath and takes his large hand. He watches with rapt attention as she teases herself and moves his fingers in feather-light touches.  It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen and he shifts in his seat because it’s going straight to his groin.

“Just take it slow.”

She lets go of his hand and he takes over. His eyes grow wide as her breathing hitches. Her head falls back as her hips seek more of his touch.

“Little faster.”

Steve leans down and kisses her softly. She hums against his lips. He mixes up his pace and kisses her neck. She’s making these delightful little noises that she did not make before. Fuck, she didn’t expect this. It feels good—really good.

“I need more.” She whimpers. She takes one of his fingers and it slips inside her so easily. His fingers are long. “Ohh, Steve.”

His name has never sounded better than right now. She’s guiding his pace with a hand on his wrist.

“M-More.”

He adds another finger and she bites her lip.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Just, oh!” She beckons her fingers with her free hand.

He does as he’s told and she grips the back of the couch, so he does it again. Her back arches. Now, that’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Steve—God—“

She looks perfect. He curls both fingers and she whines. The coil that’s been tightening in her stomach is about to snap.

“Steve—don’t stop!”

“What do you need?” He kisses her jaw.

“Put your thumb here.” She moans as he touches that little bundle of nerves. “Just—mmm—not so hard it’s—oh—oh—like that.”

She’s writhing shamelessly moving in time with his fingers. She feels his thumb add a little more pressure and she’s over the edge. Pleasure washes over her as her legs shake. Her hand grips the back of his neck when he keeps his pace steady. Her neck is aflame and it’s spreading all over her body. She whimpers and removes his hand when it becomes too much. He leaves kisses from the back of her ear down to her shoulder right next to her bra strap.

“That was great.” She giggles and closes her eyes.

Steve can’t help but grin. He wasn’t certain why this hadn’t happened to her before. It wasn’t too difficult and she’s very patient. And she looks so pretty right now with her pink cheeks and sweaty hair. She adjusts because his hardness is poking her lower back.

“Already?”

“It’s the serum.”

“God bless America.” She arches an eyebrow making him laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

She moves her hand from the back of his neck and faces him. He grabs her waist as their mouths crash together. Her chest heaves up and down and sweat collects on the skin in between her breasts. She can feel how hard he is which is incredibly hot and makes her want him even more. Her tongue massages his own. He pulls away to grab another condom from the pack. He wants to make sure she’s ready, but she’s not wasting a single second. He gasps feeling her all around him. It’s already better than the last time and that felt great. She’s rolling her hips in a way that makes his eyes flutter behind his eyelids. He’s moving with her, but he doesn’t want to hurt her. He can’t practice this part of his super strength on a punching bag.  He lets out small grunts that tickle her neck as she rolls her hips. Her arm slings over the expanse of his broad shoulders. He’s holding back and she doesn’t want to be treated like a delicate piece of china.

“C’mon, put your back into it.” She nips his earlobe.

“God, does that mouth ever stop?” He hisses as her tongue moves over the spot her teeth just grazed.

“Maybe fuck me and find out.”

“Nicolette, I—"

“I said _fuck _me. That’s an order, Captain.”

Steve captures her mouth in a kiss and surges forward, pushing her underneath him. Her blue eyes sparkle with delight at his sudden take-charge attitude. His hand moves under her thigh and lifts her leg higher hitting a new angle. Her mouth falls open.

“Like that?” He pants.

“Ah! Yes!” She bites her lip.

She’s much louder than the first time, so he knows he must be doing something right. She’s gasping after each thrust because she can feel him fucking the thoughts out of her head. It’s amazing. She looks up at him for only a moment before his tongue licks the sweat collecting between her breasts. He collapses on top of her and groans breathlessly into her neck.

“You sure that’s only the second time you’ve done that?”

“I’m a fast learner.”

“Lucky me.”

She giggles again, unable to believe he actually got her to come twice.  She knows she should go to the bathroom and clean up, but he’s very heavy.

“Get up.”

“Noo.”

“You gotta throw out the condom.”

His mouth slants over hers.

“But you’re so pretty. Gotta kiss you.”

“You’re a horny bastard, Captain.”

“Gotta make up for 70 years.”

“I volunteer, but ya gotta get up right now.”

Steve groans and pulls out of her. Nicolette chuckles as he walks away.  She goes to the bathroom, cleans up, and comes out. She gathers their things in her arms when suddenly feels herself being lifted off the couch. He’s carrying her upstairs with no effort.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” She smiles.

He sets her on her bed gently and throws everything in her hands on the floor. She takes him by the shoulders and pulls him on top of her in a searing kiss. His large hands knead her covered breasts. She moans and it trickles down his spine. Her slender leg swings over his hip rolling him under her. Those soft lips pepper kisses on his chest and he gasps.  Her bed is much more comfortable than the couch and she wants to explore every inch of that wondrous body.  There’s a crease that’s perfect for running her tongue over.

“Nikki!”  His hand jolts to her silky hair when her teeth graze his hip bone.

She looks up at him with an arched eyebrow. He hasn’t called her that before.

“Sorry.” She feels her face grow hot. “I got a little carried away.”

“N-No, that’s not it. You’re amazing. Keep goin’—if you want.”

Her blue eyes sparkle again and he wonders if he phrased that the right way. She presses her mouth to each of the ridges on his taut abdomen.  She just wants to rub her face against his hard skin like a fucking cat.

“This okay?” She looks up at him. His eyes are closed and he looks delirious.

“P-Perfect.”

“Merry Christmas.” She kisses the inside of his thigh.

“M-Merry Christmas.” He drags his lower lip in between his teeth.

Steve lets out a strangled gasp. He thought the sex was good—but what is this? This has never happened to him before. He can feel his heart galloping out of his chest. Her mouth is perfect. Her tongue is perfect. She is perfect. His fingers slip through her hair. He’s gonna die. He knows it. He can’t survive this. It’s too good. It takes everything he has to keep his hips still and not buck into her mouth. A very ungentlemanly part of him wants to push her down further, but he won’t. This is great as is.

“Nikki—“

She doesn’t stop until he’s breathing hard and not quite sure he’s still alive. Is he even a person anymore? This could be heaven for all he knows. Who knew that mouth wasn’t just for cussing him out? What a way to go.

Nicolette crawls up next to him admiring the state she put him in. She chuckles. He looks like a beautiful mess. She kisses his neck feeling his pulse thrumming. It’s quite the confidence booster.

“You okay?”

“N-Never better.” There’s not enough air to fill his lungs. “You’re amazing.”

She sits up and his large hand reaches out for her. His fingers brush her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going, honey?”

“Thought I might have to call an ambulance for you, old man.”

“You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Sure I am.”

Her mouth hovers over his before kissing him. He can taste himself on her lips. She’s wicked and he wants to eat her alive. He nips and bites making her moan. His hand slips down her spine. He’s rested long enough and takes her by surprise, pinning her into the mattress. Any attempt to get air only lasts a few seconds before their mouths impatiently meet again and again.

“You’re so sexy, sweetheart.” He kisses her neck.

Words cease to form in her brain cause of what he’s doing with his hands and mouth. This is not Captain America. His mouth drags down her neck licking her pulse point.

Her fingers tickle his scalp as his hands wander her body.  How his large hands cover her small frame drives him wild. He kisses her arms and back down her chest.

“Can’t believe you were hiding this under all those clothes.”

He’s not talking dirty, but it’s doing something for her. Maybe because his voice is so husky right now. It’s a tone she hasn’t heard all week.

“Steve…”

His lips are gentle kissing along the cups of her bra. Curious, he sucks on her skin and she arches her back.

“Ohhh…”

“Your perfect body.”

She wants to bite back that he’s literally the perfect one, but his thumb keeps tracing her ribcage. He really could spend the rest of the night like this, but he has a mission of his own. He presses a gentle kiss on her soft stomach.

“Y’know, when we first met you had some choice words for me.”

She has no fucking idea what he’s talking about. He teases her with those velvet lips and now he wants her to think? What a cruel tactic.

“Uh-huh.” She licks her lips and props herself up on her elbows moving back to the pillows. He just smiles.

Gently, he nudges her legs apart and her eyes grow wide with realization.

“May I?”

“Um, yes.”

Steve settles between her legs. Nicolette can’t tell what he’s thinking by the look on his face.

“What? Is it weird?”

He looks up at her. Why would it be weird? She’s being very vulnerable and open with him and he doesn’t take that lightly.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me in your forbidden lady valley.” His eyes sparkle mischievously. She presses her lips together to hold back her laughter and glares at him.

“Shut up or I’m gonna kick you.” She moves her foot in front of his face to show she means business. He snatches her ankle and places a kiss there. His blue eyes darken when he looks up at her.  It makes her hold her breath. Things aren’t so funny anymore as the mood changes and he kisses her inner thigh. She’s trembling with anticipation. His mouth is gentle at first barely touching her. Then she feels his tongue.

“Oh—my—god!”

He keeps a watchful eye on what makes her squirm. Gasps are good. Moans are better. At one point, she grabs his hair and rolls her hips. Other than her noises, he can hear her heartbeat. It’s wild and he’s never appreciated his heightened senses more.

“You like that?” He chuckles.

“Y-Yes!” She doesn’t recognize her own voice.

“Mmm.” He hums making her grab the sheets.

She’s losing her mind. She’s tearing apart at the seams. The pressure is too much. It won’t stop building. She didn’t know someone else could make her feel so good. She feels kinda buzzed. She’s just elated and delighted and turned on altogether.

“I’m right there.” She gasps. He’s making her body feel things she didn’t know she had in her. His tongue grazes the most sensitive spot while his fingers dip inside. Her legs shake as her toes curl. Her hips buck off the bed as she cries out gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles are white. Her body shatters into a million pieces.

“Fuck…” Her chest heaves up and down.  She’s spent. She’s never come that hard in her life. There’s no way she’s doing anything else tonight. She doesn’t even wanna shower.

“Who needs the ambulance now?”

“S-Shut up. You shouldn’t—-you shouldn’t be good at that yet. Did you do porn before joining the army?”

“This beautiful body told me everything, sweetheart.”

“Fuck off, dude.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“I swear to god if I could feel my legs, Rogers, I’d—I’d do something…”

“Got it. I’m gonna shower.”

“Then come back—“

“Oh?”

“No. No, not again. I just might need help getting out of this bed.”

Steve nods and stands up. She may not be able to move yet, but it doesn’t stop her from checking him out as he walks away. He’s sex on legs. God, that body.

“I fucked that. I actually fucked that.” She mumbles to herself.

Eventually, she does regain the feeling back in her body and forces herself to shower. He’s in her bed only in his underwear when she comes out. He pulls back the covers and she joins him. He frowns at the sight of her pajamas. She scrunches her nose and giggles. He’s finally relaxed in her bed and she considers that a win.

“G’night, Nikki.”

“G’night, Steve.”

Her eyes snap open at the unfamiliar weight in her bed, before taking in the sight of sleeping Steve. Unable to help herself, she reaches out and brushes his dark blond hair away from his eyes. He doesn’t stir. The fact she really wore him out makes her want to punch the air. Her joy is short-lived because it’s Christmas morning. Tony’s always her first call. He’s usually hungover, so she belts Darlene Love until he tells her to fuck off. That’s not happening this year. It reminds her too much of when he was missing. She hated that feeling and he promised her she wouldn’t go through it again. The tears sting her eyes and she rolls over. Tony, where are you? She’s about to get out of bed and have a cry in the bathroom, but a warm hand touches her shoulder burning her skin.

“G’morning.” His voice is hoarse from sleep.

“Morning.” She doesn’t look at him.

His fingers dance along her spine playing with the fabric of her pajama top. A sigh escapes her lips because it does feel really nice.

“You okay?” He’s almost whispering. It makes her stomach twist. He thinks she regrets this. She feels bad and turns to look at him. Yep, those ocean eyes are concerned and his brow is furrowed.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “We went a little crazy last night, huh?”

“Very thorough.” He smirks.

“Thank you for letting me be your sex ambassador.” She gestures to the room making him laugh. “It’s an honor. Welcome to sex.”

She pulls back her comforter and just stares at him only in his boxer briefs. What a delicious distraction. She can feel the heat radiating off his Adonis-like body.

“It really isn’t fair how fucking good you look, especially in the morning. Jesus, are you even real?”

A blush creeps up his neck and dusts his cheeks as he laughs. Does he have to be hot and cute? She pounces on top of him and holds down his wrists above his head. His eyes are wild; he’s enjoying himself.

“I want you.” She sighs, rubbing her face against his chest.

“Then take me, doll.” He’s smirking.

“I’m serious. I wanna do dirty things to you right now.”

“That a promise?”

“You little shit.” She covers his mouth with hers.

She’s pressing her chest into his as she leans down, but that stupid pajama top is blocking his view. She grabs the ends of her top and pulls it over her head leaving on her black camisole. A grin lights up his face instantly. He can see the outlines of her breasts in the thin fabric. Her tongue just barely slips into his mouth. Her hips swirl above him ever so slightly. She’s teasing him. Suddenly, he flips her letting her back dip into the bed. She’s too awed to make a sound.

“I want you too.”

She moans at the feeling of him, half-hard, between her legs. He’s becoming bolder after one night. She’s a fan. For literally being on ice, he’s a good kisser because he pays attention and doesn’t just shove his tongue down her throat. He wants to coax it out of her. Nipping at her lower lip and soothing the spot with his tongue.  Her nails scratch at the base of his neck when he deepens their kiss.  His large hand grips her ass as he ruts into her. She’s arching into him and he’s ready to melt. His tongue feels slick on her neck. She’s burning up. He really hadn’t done this before yesterday? He’s insatiable now. She’s very happy to have created this Frankenstein sex monster. She whines—actually—whines his name and he knows he can’t wait a minute longer.

“Is it okay if I take your pants off?”

“Yes—yes…”

He hooks his thumbs and pulls down the pajama bottoms and her underwear with one tug. He presses soft kisses on her belly and swirls his tongue around her navel. She chews her lower lip between her perfect teeth. He kisses her inner thighs before peaking up at her through his lashes. She’s nodding before he even asks.

“Can I—“

“Uh-huh.”

He rests her calf on his shoulder and dives right in.

“Steve!” Her hand slaps her forehead as her body lifts off the bed.

“You okay?” His head pops up to check on her.

“Yup. F-Fine.” Her small fingers spread through his dark blond hair and guide him back down. Message received loud and clear.

God, the sounds she makes. Whimpers. Gasps. Moans. Choked breaths. A string of curses mixed with his name when his fingers give the pressure she needs. She’s a woman possessed chasing down her high. She can’t control her own body. Every nerve explodes. She’s lit from within.

“S-Steve—-“ Her body unravels under him until she’s a complete wreck. He hovers over her and smiles.  Chest heaving, she’s trying to catch her breath. He brushes her sweaty hair away from her forehead and leaves a kiss there. She chuckles. Is this how they’re gonna spend the whole day? She finally gets why people like sex so much.

“If you don’t get inside me in the next ten seconds I’m gonna die.”

“I know that’s not true.”

Her eyes snap open and her delicate fingers play with the waistband on his boxer briefs. She finally understands the furious vagina thing.

“Now.”

He reaches for the condoms on the nightstand.  He rolls it on and lines himself up with her. Her nails dig into his back as he pushes in. She hums happily kissing him. He’s about to move when he hears her phone buzzing on the nightstand.

“Nic? Your phone?”

“I’ll call them back. Jordan and Luce would totally understand. They’ve wanted me to fuck you since you got here.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhmm. Now please fuck me with cherries on top?”

Steve sighs and pulls out. Nicolette groans and takes her phone.

“See, it’s just Tony—“

They stare at each other. Her heart is in her throat.

“Holy shit! It’s Tony!”

Steve stands up and puts his underwear back on. He hands her a robe off the back of the door. She slips it on and answers the phone watching him walk out of her room.

“Merry Christmas. You been good?” Tony asks.

“Merry Christmas. Nah. You?” She grins wide.

“Jury’s still out.”

“You sound good for a dead dude.”

“The details of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I heard your plans got messed up cause of me, but you’re safe, right?”

“Yeah, that Cap guy is pretty good at this.”

“Fury told me about your car. Sorry, I can get you a new one?”

“You better.”

“Cap probably bored the shit out of you, right?”

She blushes glad this isn’t a video call.

“I survived.”

“I knew you would. Lemme know when you want the jet to take you to California. Can’t really book much on Christmas Day. Booked a hotel since the house is kinda in the ocean.”

“Thanks for letting terrorists blow up Howard's house.”

“You’re welcome. Think you can pack and get going?”

“You miss me or something?”

“Something.”

“I’ll text you. Pepper okay?”

“Yeah. She’s glad you’re safe too.”

“I gotta pack and shower, but Tony, don’t fucking do that again, okay?”

“Scout’s honor. Love you, Pip.”

“Love you, asshole.”

Steve knocks on her door, still in his black boxer briefs.

“Come in.”

“How’s Tony?”

“He’s okay!” She jumps up into his arms unable to control her joy. He catches her and secures her legs around his waist so she doesn’t fall. Steve can’t help but smile at her. She winds her arms around his neck.

“He’s very grateful you kept me safe.”

“Of course.”

“I’m grateful too.”

Her blue eyes stare into his. He smiles at her as she dips her head. Their mouths crash together. She grunts when her back hits the mattress. They get lost in a frenzy of tongues, hands, and limbs. After, she showers and packs for California.

Steve drives her to the isolated airfield.

“Have fun with Tony.” He smiles. She isn’t anything like he expected and he likes that. He opens her door, but she doesn’t let him help her out.

“Have fun with no work-life balance, Captain Steve.”

Steve chuckles. She isn’t wrong. This past week with her has been the most active personal life he’s had since he woke up and he was technically working. He won’t be forgetting his time with her and that was before the sex. They stare at each other for a moment not sure what to do—as if they weren’t a sweaty mess only an hour ago. He pulls her into a hug, a very innocent hug that makes her sigh. She knew he gave good hugs with those giant arms. It makes her want him to pin her down and crush her with that sculpted body. Instead, she steps back and looks at him with wicked eyes.

“I bet it’s pretty difficult for Captain America to get casual sex. Always worried someone might sell the story to the press.” She’s speaking from experience.

“Yeah…” Steve can feel his face getting hot.

“And I’m your sex ambassador. It’s my duty to help you…if you want.” She raises her eyebrows.

“I’m listening.” He doesn’t understand where she’s going with this.

“I can’t really date with my busy schedule. I feel like saving the world takes up a lot of time too.”

“It can.” He chuckles.

“But I have time for friends.”

“I’m beginning to question your definition of friendship, Miss Stark.”

“With benefits. Super hot—I wish we had time right now—benefits.” Her gaze travels from head to toe. They rest on his crotch and she bites her lip.

Steve groans. She’s gonna be the death of him. Hell, part of him wants to take her right now in the back of the car like two teenagers cruising.

“B-Benefits sound good to me.”

“Did you know I have a place in New York?” She takes one step closer to him.

“That so?” He puts his hands in his pockets to keep them from trembling.

“It’s a penthouse. Very private.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.

Steve gulps down air as she steps closer to him. His heart pounds in his chest and she’s not even doing anything. She’s just staring at him with those eyes and a playful smirk on her lips. To any passerby, they just look like they’re talking. It’s perfectly innocent.

“When I get back, I could give you a tour.”

“I’d like that.”

“Gimme your phone.”

Steve pulls it out of his pocket and hands it over to her. She snaps a picture of herself with a peace sign. She’s making it very difficult for him not to pick her up and kiss her right now. He understands what Bucky was on about all those times he’d tell him about his dates. He was so excited and Steve could never figure out why. Sex is intoxicating, especially with gorgeous women.

“Now, you have my number and I have yours.” She hands it back to him with a big smile.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“Merry Christmas, Nicolette.” He smiles right back.