#chris evans reader insert
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callmissrogers · 1 year ago
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She Thinks I'm Handsome. Steve Rogers x Reader Short Story
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Summary: Y/n is terribly tipsy. Having only had one margarita, Nat texted Steve to come take her home. Y/n's tipsiness makes her admit something to Steve. Something she didn't mean to say out loud.
Warnings: mentions alcohol, reader being tipsy, and lots of fluff. Wrote on my phone with little editing.
Word count: 1,034
Inspired by: pin and a scene in the movie New In Town with Rene Zellweger, but I couldn't find it on YouTube.
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Y/n couldn't stop giggling at the dinner table. Everything was just hilarious.
"Y/n you only had one margarita.... Are you sure you're ok?" Nat asked, sitting back in her chair, eyes wide with concern.
"I'm mine. I mean time. I MEAN I'm fine." Y/n replied, giggling at her own inability to speak coherently.
"Yeah. Sure you are. I told you this was a terrible idea." Nat whispered to Wanda.
"She told me she wanted to come! Besides, how is it my fault that she's a lightweight?" Wanda argued as if Y/n wasn't sitting right there.
"I am not a lightweight! I'm good." Y/n protested like a child not getting the sweets it wanted.
"Of course you are. You definitely aren't talking like someone who's done 20 wisky shots." Nat answered sarcastically.
"What are we gonna do? My car only has two seats. Unless we tape you to the roof." Wanda asked in a whisper. "I've got an idea." Natasha said conspiratorially, taking her phone out. "Who are you texting?" Wanda asked, an eyebrow rasing. "You know who," Nat said in a sing-song way. "You can not text him!" "Why not? They need a push." "She's about to fall over. " "Good. Let him play knight in shiny armor." "You know this wasn't I meant when I said we should set them up." "Well, it's what we're doing. He already responded and said he's on his way. Way too much of a gentlemen to abandon a maid in distress." "You are having way too much fun with this." Wanda sighed, leaning on her hand.
A few minutes later, y/n was trying to explain something to the girls, grabbing random bits and pieces of information and giving it to them as of it should all make sense.
The door to the cozy little restaurant opened and he walked inside. Spotting them easily and coming over to collect Y/n. Her back was to him so she had no idea of his presence.
Nat and Wanda remained completely silent as he approached giving him knowing and teasing looks. Nat mouthed "get her out" to which he couldn't help but smile.
It wasn't till he placed a gentle hand on y/n's shoulder that she noticed him at all.
"Steve!" She gasped much too loudly and drawing the attention of some of the other guests. "I didn't think you'd be here!" She said wobbling to her feet and throwing her arms around his neck. She'd never done that before. They've never exchanged any sort of hug before. So he shot the other two a look of complet and utter shock as his face turned three shades of pink.
"How much did y'all let her drink?" He demanded. "Steve. She had one margarita." Wanda deadpanned. Steve looked at Y/N and back to them, his brows raised in amazement. "Just one?" He asked. "One. And it wasn't even that big." Nat replied, lips forming into a smirk. "Wanda only has two seats in her car, and I road with her. So I figured you'd be happy to get Y/n home safely." She continued.
Steve put an arm around Y/n's shoulder in an attempt to steady her, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair, he said "c'mon. Let's get you home." "But I don't wanna!" She complained. "Y/n, you should go with Steve. We're gonna head out too." Wanda assured her. "Fine." She whispered/mumbled letting him guide her out.
Once they were outside the resturant she looked around wildly. "Where's your car?" "It's down the block. I couldn't find a spot here." "Oh. Where's my coat?" "That's right here." He answered holding it up to help her get into it. "Watch your hands. Mr Handys Hands." She slurred. "I'm. I'm not doing anything." Steve said blushing again.
She took a few steps forward and then stumbled into the street some. "Wait, wait, wait. My car isn't over there, " He spoke, quickly pulling her back.
"I'm fine. I'm fine." She assured him, walking along again, taking wobbly but somewhat straight steps.
Steve rubbed the back of his neck nervously and followed after her.
"Ok," He said after they had walked just a little bit further. "My car is right there"
Then she dashed up to a car that somewhat resembled his and started rapidly pulling on the handle causing the car alarm to go off.
"That. That wasn't my car." Steve said sounding embarrassed.
He used his key for, unlocked his car, before softly grabbing her by the arm and getting her seated inside. Taking a deep breath before coming round to get himself. He was gonna get Natasha for this. She had been teasing him about his growing affection for Y/n for months. She was trying to push his hand.
The drive home wasn't as crazy as the walk to the car had been. Y/n sat starring out the window commenting on the pretty city lights, how she liked the outfits of some of the pedestrians they passed, and got very excited when they stopped next to a car which had a Scottish Terrier in it.
He couldn't help smiling he was actually enjoying the drive with her.
When they finally pulled up to her house, he got out and came around to help her out. Not trusting that she'd be able to get out of the car and onto the curb without tripping.
Arm around her shoulder, he helped her to the door. Where she struggled to get the key into the lock. "Here," He said trying to take the key from her. "I got it. I got it." She said trying again to get the key go in. "Let me help." He said gentily taking it from her.
She finally looked up at up him and whispered "Gosh. You're handsome," pausing, her lips forming an O shape. "I just said that out loud, didn't I?"
Steve smiled broadly, "Yes. Yes, you did."
So he helped her inside and made sure she was settled with a glass of water and aspirin for the morning and then went home himself.
Whispering to himself, "She thinks I'm handsome."
(I know I haven't posted the next part in That's My Girl. Got a bit of writers block as to how to finish the chapter. I'll try to have it done by Wednesday. )
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ramp-it-up · 3 months ago
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Well this is a blast from the past, lol.
Sorry, Not Sorry
#Rampitup1Kinktober
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​​Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Summary: Is someone going to be sorry they were a brat? Maybe. Maybe not.
1Kinktober Kink: Public Sex
Word Count 3K
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT! Read at your own risk, going commando, driving while fingering, orgasm denial, bratty behavior, jealousy, Daddy kink, conflict, cowgirl, creampie, explicit sex, public sex act, fluff. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.
A/N: This is for the 6th DAY of #rampitup1Kinktober! TYSM for following me! 🧡 Dividers by @firefly-graphics
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
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It was a perfect autumn evening.
Chris was the ceremonial grand marshal of the Autumn Festival Parade leading to the opening night of AutumnFest. He asked you to spend the evening enjoying the festivities.
Although you doubted that you would have much alone time, you agreed, because it was for a good cause. You expected to hang around the periphery all night and watch him sign autographs, and it was cool, because you got to go home with him.
You both came out of your closets wearing the same red flannel. You laughed. It was the one that you loved taking off of him and that you’d stolen so much that he just purchased an identical one only to be flabbergasted when you stole that one too. You kept both in rotation as he wore the other one.
“It’s not just that it’s your shirt, it’s that it smells like you.”
Chris just grinned and shook his head when you told him that. Inside, he was happy that you stole his shirts. You looked good in them. And nothing else.
“Okay, since you are wearing a matching shirt tonight, I get to pick out the rest of your wardrobe, Including underwear and shoes.”
He shot that damn eyebrow up at you and you couldn’t help but be intrigued. Even at 40, Chris was still a hound dog and you had to stay ready.
“Okayyyy.”
Chris went back into your closet with a short blue jean skirt, that was frayed at the bottom and that your mom had told you was too short the last time she saw you in it.
He had your brown cowboy boots in the other hand, the ones you got on that one trip to Nashville, and also the ones that he fucked you in all weekend. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow.
“Alright.” You smiled at him. “You forgot the underwear.”
Chris grinned back at you. “No I didn’t.”
Your mouth dropped open.
“But, but, there are going to be a ton of people there, especially to see you.”
Chris shrugged. “Maybe.” He moved toward you.
“And it’s going to be cool…”
“I’ll keep you warm...
Chris moved to unbutton the shirt, slowly undoing each button and slipping it off your shoulders as his pool blue eyes stared into yours.
“We don’t have time Chris, you’ve got to be there in an hour… it takes 20 minutes to get there and they will need to get you set up and…”
“Don’t have time for what?”
Chris pulled you flush against him and snaked his arms around you. He lowered his head to your shoulder and brushed his lips against it, making your nipples pebble and unhooked your La Perla bra. He held it up and threw it back in the closet.
He stepped back and admired you with hard nipples and eyes soft for him. He shook his head, bit his lip, and sighed. He picked up the flannel and handed it to you.
“Now you can put on the shirt and the skirt. And the boots. And that’s all. No makeup either.”
You shook your head as you shrugged the shirt on and buttoned it up, allowing him to get a look of you in it. You chuckled as his jaw clenched.
“I can’t believe you. You’re going to have me out here looking like who shot john....”
“Believe it. You look gorgeous. And be ready to be bent over as soon as we get back in this house.”
Chris slapped your ass as you turned to get the skirt and boots. You were already a little excited at going commando at his insistence, but the promise of more later just added to the vibe between you.
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During the ride there, you tried to be cool, scrolling your phone when you got started. You didn’t want to get Chris worked up. But he, it seems, had other plans. Chris stole looks at you as he drove.
The light of dusk and your skin was everything, and your eyes shone in the passing streetlamps and headlights. He saw that you were looking at pictures of him, the ones you called thirst traps, and chuckled. He saw you bite your lip and guessed that you were getting wet for him.
It was going to be a good night, he decided.
After a few minutes of watching you watch him, Chris pulled your left thigh toward him as he drove with one hand.
You sat up straight as he spread your legs and started sliding his hand up toward your heat. You drew in a breath and he glanced at you and smirked. When he reached your cunt, he swiped his three middle fingers up and down your wet folds, until you were wantonly opening your legs for him and moaning quietly.
“Chris….shit… Chris!”
Your mouth was open, one hand on the window and one hand on the center console, mouth open and pelvis rocking into his fingers, trying to chase your high. When you arched your back and closed your eyes, Chris took his hand away.
“Now don’t get carried away. Save some for later.”
He wiped his fingers on his jeans, then smelled them and smiled.
“I hate you.”
You shook your head, crossed your legs and arms and turned away from him, looking out of the window.
“Deal with it. You’ll be singing, no screaming, a different tune later.”
You rolled your eyes at him and mumbled.
“Whatever.” You pouted.
“Remember Baby Girl. Brats don’t get to cum.”
Chris’s baritone rumbled through the car. And through you. You looked at him.
“Fix that face.”
His eyes were on the road, but he knew you all too well.
You straightened up and fixed your face and demeanor, still a little salty, but a lot turned on by Chris’s dom demeanor.
Tonight was going to be more fun than you thought.
Chris parked the car and came around to open the door. He leaned down, taking in your legs in the skirt and then smiled at you.
“Now, be a good girl, and let’s have a great night.”
He reached for your hand and you stepped out of the car. You kissed him on the cheek and looked up at him through your lashes.
“Ok, Daddy.” You smiled sweetly.
He shook his head.
“Oh, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
He chuckled as he led you by the hand to the designated VIP spot.
Just as you predicted, you were shunted to the side as he got the star treatment. You looked on and smiled as he stole a couple of glances at you, but then he went into work mode. He was a professional, so he didn’t need to be flirting with you.
A tall, dark, and handsome man came up and started speaking to you.
“Hello? I’m Will Stapleton. I’m one of the event sponsors and organizers. I run a small media company and I just want to say I’m a fan.”
You were shocked and smiled at him. This didn’t happen often.
“I’m sorry?”
You didn’t know what to say.
“I am!”
He laughed. He had the cutest dimples.
“I read your Blerd Culture article and I fell in love.”
You just stared.
“Not literally. I mean, I know you are taken. Very taken.”
You both laughed and you looked over at Chris. He glanced over, but he was still talking.
“But what you said about freeing our minds about what nerdom is was so freeing to me…”
You started geeking out with Will about nerds as Chris mounted the lead float.
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As the parade kicked off, you got to walk alongside the float while Chris sat on top, with ceremonial sash, waving at the crowd.
You watched him wave at hyped up little boys dressed as Captain America and hot to trot moms who were on the verge of flashing him their boobs. It was too funny.
Chris waved at you too, then wiped his mouth and winked. You knew that your scent was probably still on his fingers, so you just grinned at him. Then Will came up beside you and handed you a hot chocolate.
You thanked him and started talking to him about black fandom and media. A quarter mile down Main Street and you looked back at Chris who was looking stormy, staring at you menacingly.
You almost tripped when you realized he was pissed, and why. You looked back up at him and saw that he was smiling and waving again, but you knew that was acting. Now you were mad.
You continued your conversation with Will until the end of the parade route, just a little over a mile and a half more to the fairground. You’d be damned if you would be rude just because Chris was jealous.
When the parade was over, you were saying goodbye to Will and about to exchange information for another article when you felt Chris behind you.
“I promised this young lady that we would have a date night the rest of the night, but you can send my agent your contact info and I’ll make sure she gets in touch.”
Again, Chris’s voice boomed through you. It was Cap all the way, no trace of Boston. Oh yeah. He was pissed.
You didn’t look back, but Will smiled at Chris, who was very near and towering above you, so you guessed he was giving the poor man a fake smile.
“No doubt. Enjoy. Y’all have a good night.”
“Bye--”
Chris cut you off.
“Oh, I will. You have a good night too.”
When Will turned to go, Chris grabbed your hand and started walking.
“Did you have fun?”
Judging by his tone, you knew this was a trick question.
“As a matter of fact. I did.”
You raised your chin and answered Chris honestly.
“It was good conversation about something that interests me.”
Chris stopped. He looked hurt.
“You and I don’t have good conversation about what interests you?”
You sighed. “Why are you like this?” You shook your head.
“This isn’t about you. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was just having a conversation with a nice guy.”
‘I’m like this because you drive me fucking insane! You didn’t see that guy checking you out as you walked? Before he gave you that hot chocolate, he was looking at your ass in that skirt. And every chance he got when you were not looking.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“I’m not fucking lying, y/n.”
Chris kept walking, at a faster pace now.
“It took everything in me to not jump off the float and pound his fucking face into the ground.”
You didn’t know where you were going, certainly not back to the car. You were almost running to keep up with Chris. Then he stopped at the edge of a field. There was a flatbed truck with hay in the back idling there.
Chris stood there staring at it.
“I rented out the entire hayride for us, but if you’d rather go back and talk to Will….”
You sighed and kicked at a rock on the ground. You wanted to try and salvage the night.
“No. Let’s go.”
Chris just stood there. Who is the brat now, you thought, but you stayed quiet.
“Okay..”
He climbed on and reached down for you, easily lifting you up. You wanted to stay in his embrace but he let you go and sit down on some blankets in the middle of the hay.
You sat down beside him and the truck started moving slowly toward the dark road which seemed to stretch forever in the night.
As the wind picked up, you tried to snuggle closer to Chris, but he wasn’t having it. You sighed again and looked up at the stars.
“Oooh! There is Orion! Remember when you first showed it to me?”
Chris looked up, blue eyes gleaming.
“Yeah.” He looked up at it wistfully.
“You leaned over me, showing me where it was located and that was when we first kissed.”
Chris couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah.”
“And then later on, you told me that I could touch America’s Ass because it wouldn’t bite.”
You looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
“I hate you.”
This time it was Chris as you climbed on his lap. He leaned back on a haystack.
“Deal with it,” you said. “You’ll be moaning a different tune later.”
Chris rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever.”
Then he pouted those pretty lips at you.
You couldn’t help but lick them and then bite them, and when Chris opened his mouth in response, swipe your tongue in to meet his and kiss him as you ground your bare pussy against his jean-clad crotch.
You pulled away, breathless.
“Remember Daddy. Brat’s don’t get to cum.”
Chris chuckled into your neck, which he seemed determined to mark up.
“I’d like to see you try that…”
He was unbuttoning the shirt now and sucking the tops of your breasts. You didn’t care that anyone could see you if they were on this road with you. There were headlights in the distance.
You had more to grind on now that you could feel Chris rock hard in his jeans. The flannel was down around your shoulders as your head was thrown back and Chris began to play with your breasts, alternating teasing each of them with his mouth as the headlights got closer.
When the car passed, you heard a honk and a yell, “GET A ROOM, FUCKING KIDS!”
Chris’ face was buried between the valley of your breasts, so they didn’t recognize him.
“Fuck, Chris.. They saw…”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Chris looked up and slipped his hand between you, plunging the three fingers that played with you earlier inside you. The stretch was unanticipated, but welcome, and made you want his dick. Your heat was a stark contrast to the cool air slipping past you two on the back of the truck.
His thumb circled your clit until it was hard and plucky, then he withdrew his hand to quickly unzip his jeans and bring out his cock. You planted your knees on either side of him to get ready and when he brought it out, he played in your slick with his tip, making you moan and mumble.
“Oh my god. Give it to me. Chris. Please.”
“You want it?” Chris strummed your clit with his dick.
You nodded. “Yes. Please. Yes. Please please please.”
Chris took your thighs in his hands and spread them apart, causing you to slide down his dick quickly and hard.
“Owwwwwoooohhhhhh!” You moaned in pleasure pain while Chris groaned.
“Ahhhhhhhh Yeah.” Chris slapped your ass with both hands, then grabbed it. ”Bounce.”
You obeyed, bouncing on his dick in the back of a flatbed truck filled with hay going 30 miles per hour on a country road. It was amazing.
��Fuck, I can feel you creaming up my dick. Shit. Does it feel good?”
Chris was still palming your ass and lunging for your tits.
“Yes, Daddy, yes yes yesssss.”
The thrill was building as you saw more headlights approaching.
“Mmmmmmph… I could be close right now. But you said I was a brat. Better stop now, because I don’t get to cum… right?”
Your head snapped up and you looked him in the eyes.
“Right.”
“Okay.” Chris lay back with his hands behind his head on the hay. “Stop.”
You tried to slow down, but you looked at Chris’s face, mouth open, eyes closing in ecstasy, and you got wetter. So your hips moved faster.
You tried to stop, by putting your hand on his chest to steady you, but then you just felt his pecs and your clit started pounding. So you stated bouncing harder on his dick.
And then, just as the car passed, you moved your hand to the base of his cock in his jeans to pull it out, but instead went up his happy trail to his nipple and twisted. Chris’ mouth opened wider while his cock twitched. So your hips swiveled to milk him better.
“Your so f-fucking hot …..fuck...while you’re trying n-not to let me cummmmm.”
Chris closed his eyes and gulped then opened them again.
It was at that point that you succeeded in stopping, chest heaving with the need for oxygen.
Chris moved his hands to his sides and sat up, coming face to face with you and giving you a filthy kiss. He breathed into your mouth.
“Makes me wanna shoot my load inside you and make you walk back to the car with it dripping down your legs.”
And he grabbed your thighs and reversed positions. All of a sudden, he was on top, blowing your back out in the hay while your legs were wrapped around his back.
“NOW the question is. Do YOU get to cum…”
“Fuck, fuck, please, I’m sorry Daddy! Daddy I’m sorry. Please please pleasepleaseplea…
Another car passed and they must have had a great view of a great ass pumping away in the night. Because Chris was putting in work.
“You better be lucky….”
Chris grunted.
“That we don’t have time for…me to properly teach you a….fuck… a fucking lesson, Baby Girl.”
Chris reached between you and hastily and roughly flicked your clit. It felt amazing.
The truck turned back on the far side of the field where you started.
Chris sped up and when you said, “Fuck! Daddyyyyyy!” He released ropes of cum in your cunt as you climaxed on his cock.
“Fucckkkkkk!”
Chris slumped down on you as the truck started slowing down. You held him for a second and kissed his sweaty forehead. Then, as the truck stopped, Chris rolled off you, put himself back together and zipped up as you pulled your skirt down and buttoned up your shirt.
You two popped up, hay in hair and ridiculous smiles on your faces. Luckily, no one was close enough around. You looked at each other and laughed, brushing hay off each other and giggling.
Chris paid the driver several bills, the extra “for the blanket,” and winked as he wrapped it around you. You would have to walk back with him dripping down your legs, but no one would know but you and him.
You smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek as you walked to the car, two brats in love.
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krirebr · 11 months ago
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Luck Be a Lady
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Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader
Word Count: ~10.1k
Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?
Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Masterlist
A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂
This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!
And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
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You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.
“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”
You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.
Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.
“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”
“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.
The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”
Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown. 
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Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with. 
As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard. 
You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.” 
You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
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It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.
“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?” 
“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.
The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.
You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.
He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”
You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey. 
“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.” 
You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???
You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.
“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is. 
You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.
Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.
You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.
“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”
This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.
Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”
Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.
“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”
“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.
But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.
As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”
“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”
“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.
You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”
“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks. 
You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”
You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.
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The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.
“Bambi?” you ask.
He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.
You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 
He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.
You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??
Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.
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Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.
And you’re making so much money.
In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.
And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills. 
And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.
But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.
She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”
You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”
He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”
You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”
“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly. 
“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.
You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.
Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.” 
Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”
You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”
Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”
Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”
You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.
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The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.
At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice. 
Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new. 
“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”
You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.
His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”
You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you. 
You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.
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Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts. 
It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.
It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.
You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.
He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”
Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.
“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says. 
Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.
“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?” 
Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.
You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?
He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”
“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.
Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?” 
“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”
Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”
You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.
It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. 
You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.
After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.
You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”
A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”
It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”
“Why?” you blurt out without thinking. 
He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.
“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood. 
You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything. 
“Someone touched you?”
“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”
His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.
You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything. 
“Tell me who it was.”
“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous. 
He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”
“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”
“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”
You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.
At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”
Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”
“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.” 
You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?” 
He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”
You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.” 
He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”
You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”
“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”
You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”
His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this. 
Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”
You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work. 
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You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.
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The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in. 
As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”
“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”
“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.
You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.” 
He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.
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Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.” 
You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.
Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.
You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly. 
Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”
His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”
He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”
“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”
Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”
You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath. 
You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”
“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”
You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.
The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.
He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.” 
You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.
“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”
Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”
“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table. 
Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.
Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.
“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”
You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.
You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”
You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't. 
Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”
Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”
Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?
Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either. 
The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.
Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,�� he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”
Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.
The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”
Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.
As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”
You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous. 
While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again. 
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The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.
You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.
Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis. 
You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.
When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.
You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”
“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.
It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist. 
He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”
“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why. 
He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.
“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.
To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”
Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”
He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”
 You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.  
There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.
Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.
You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored. 
A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.
It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.
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It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.
Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.
Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money. 
You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?
You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.
You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.
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Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.
Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.
You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” 
You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”
He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.
Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”
You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”
“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”
It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.
“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.” 
It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.
“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”
“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”
He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”
You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”
Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”
His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore. 
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Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.
You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.
He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”
“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.
He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.
He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.
You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”
He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”
You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little. 
He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.” 
As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.
“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt. 
“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout. 
“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him. 
He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.
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You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you. 
You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.
You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.
You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.
You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him. 
As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps. 
You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.
“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”
You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”
His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”
You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”
“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.
You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”
“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.
“What?”
“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”
Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??
He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”
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Tag list
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1K notes · View notes
kyotosworld · 11 months ago
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just confess already!
pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader 
summary: the team is sick of seeing how in love Steve and you are while you both pretend you’re just friends. 
(the office au: moments when the teams talks to the camera, like in the office)
warning: language, very cute confession at the end
word count: 1.3k
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“..andd they’re doing it again,” bucky smirks at the camera before motioning it towards you and steve who were sitting way too closely for “friends”
you were both giggling and whispering about something he was showing you on his phone, before you noticed the camera and very badly tried to act normal by clearing your throat and refocusing on your computer.
steve’s brows furrowed for a second as he watched you leave, worried that he might have done something to upset you. before also realizing that the cameras were directed toward you both. leading him to return to his work in a similar clumsy manner as you.
steve could only hope that the camera didn’t catch how long and how longingly he looked at you after you left.
meanwhile, bucky was still smirking at the camera, “ you see what i mean?”
bucky of course was referring to the ongoing belief of everyone in the office—but you and steve—that you guys were dating.
“they need to confess already. i'm sick of the heart eyes,” natasha says before fake gagging. “but seriously, the only people they’re fooling are themselves.”
while natasha was talking to the camera, you and steve were in the office kitchen proving her exactly right. 
“have you heard the…rumors floating around the office?” you ask nervously, while holding a cold water bottle, and standing beside steve as he looks into the fridge for a snack.
at that, he froze because yeah he had heard them but he was also too scared to talk about it with you. then in an attempt to act normal, he hit the top of his head on the ceiling of the fridge. 
“shit!” he exclaimed.
“omg, are you okay?” you wince before putting down your water bottle and checking his head. 
he has his hands on the spot he hit like that’ll help ease the pain, which of course it doesn’t. so, in an attempt to do something other than just watch him in pain, you pick up your cold water, gently move his hands from his injury, and place the bottle against it. 
“there, that should help.” you say softly while still holding the bottle against his head. you’re too focused on easing his pain to notice the way steve is looking at you.
“oh those two? we’re still talking about them?” tony asks, “that’s old news. instead, lets focus on me–”
— 
“aww they’re soo cute i cant wait for them to realize!” wanda says excitedly with the biggest smile on her face. she’s a sweetheart.
“what, when did this happen? why did no one tell me?!” thor asked with a frown, being the clueless himbo that he was ♡. 
his smile reforms as an idea forms in head, “i must congratulate them!” he exclaims while getting up.
the camera follows thor out of the room and into the main office where steve and you were actually focused on your work for once. 
“CONGRATULATIONS ON THE RELATIONSHIP DEAR MORTALS!” thor yells as he pulls you two into a tight hug. drawing the attention of the rest of the team.
“what?” you ask, gasping but laughing when thor finally lets you out of the bone crushing hug. 
“you and steve! you know i always suspected, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure. why didn’t you tell me?” he questions, getting a bit sad again.
 this time steve pipes up, “you ‘always suspected’ what?” he asks in confusion.
honestly he was getting a bit nervous. you both were, thinking somehow your crush for the other got out and that’s what thor knew.  
but the truth surprised you guys even more, “that you’re dating of course!”
at this, you and steve look at eachother wide eyed and flushed for a moment before looking back at thor. 
“where did you get that information from, thor?” you ask. 
“well apparently, everyone knew but me.” he looks down, “no one ever tells me anything.” 
you guys look around at the rest of the team with surprised looks on your faces, “really?” steve asks, perplexed.
a collection of nods and “yeah”s spread around the room.
clint speaks up, “i honestly thought you guys were engaged already.”
after all of that, you and steve kind of avoided each other for a bit. feeling too awkward after the news you both had heard.
but that only lasted for about an hour before you both ended up in the break room at the same time. 
you walked in, distracted, looking down and counting the coins in your hand to see if you had enough for the chips you were craving. due to this, you failed to notice that someone else was in the room with you.
“oh, hi.” steve spoke up, surprised to see you. 
you jump and look up to find steve sitting at a table across the room.
“hi,” you stop in your tracks, surprised and suddenly nervous at the sight of him.
you both stood there for a bit, staring at each other, not knowing what to say.  
“soo–”
“umm–” 
“you go first!”
“no you!” you insist.
“i was just going to ask if uh we’re okay?” steve asks nervously. 
“yeah.” you reply quickly, “why wouldn't we be?” you ask, trying really hard to act normal and like you weren't affected by today's news in the slightest.
but of course steve saw right through it, right through you as he stared at you for a moment before responding, “i'm sorry that things are weird now, and it's all my fault and i totally understand if you don't wanna be friends anymore–” 
“what?!” you interrupt immediately, “steve, of course i don't want to stop being friends.” you say sincerely looking deep into his eyes. 
“and if anything, it's both our faults for being together all the time, no wonder they thought we were together.” you finish while pulling up a chair next to him. 
steve chuckles and shakes his head at that before getting serious again, “so we're good?”
“yes. we’re good.” you smile, causing him to do the same, “plus their assumption didn’t bother me too much…” you looked down as you said the last part.
“what.” steve’s head turns towards you swiftly, he couldn't have heard you correctly, right?
“what? it's not like you’re the worst guy ever. and i guess it's not the worst thing that they saw us as a couple.” you try to answer nonchalantly but are still avoiding his eyes. 
this time, steve’s lips upturned a little, noticing your nervousness, “so you think i'm ‘not the worst guy ever’ huh?” 
you look up and notice he looks a bit amused. “oh shut up, you know what i mean.” you playfully shove his side with your shoulder. 
“no no, i really don't. please. explain it to me.” he jokingly but also somehow convincingly insisted. 
figuring that you weren’t gonna be able to leave this place if you didn’t just admit it, you very speedily say, “fine. you’re an attractive guy and you’re funny and really kind and anyone would be lucky to have you.” at the end of that you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. 
it’s quiet for a moment and when you finally look back at steve he’s smiling softly at you. “i feel the same.”
“you think i’m an attractive guy?” you tease.
“you know what i mean.” he whispers, still smiling.
“i think i do.” you say softly while leaning closer towards him.
but of course thor had to walk by right when steve closed the gap between you two. 
“i knew it! they are dating!!” thor yells as he runs towards the main office. 
1K notes · View notes
bigtreefest · 5 months ago
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Cinnamon Rolls
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Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: Steve has to decide which is the lesser of two evils: waking you up from your nap, or letting the cinnamon rolls in the oven burn.
Word count: 1,686
Content/warnings: fluff! Kissing, cooking, Steve being too perfect and sweet, tickling
A/N: hehehe, thanks to @thezombieprostitute for always indulging my thots and whims, especially regarding my love for cinnamon rolls and cinnamon roll-like men.
Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!
Dividers by @mikeykuns
Main Masterlist
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You looked over the back of the couch and towards the kitchen in the open living area of the cabin you and Steve were staying in for the weekend. Tony had insisted, of course, that the two of you take some time off and away from the city, which at this point, didn’t take much convincing, even for two people who worked themselves to the bone as much as you and Steve.
The past three weeks had been grueling, as you guided Steve and the rest of the Avengers through a mission in a South American city via coms. It was a series of sleepless nights and food rations, but worth it for the safety of the world. Both you and Steve were willing to pay that price, but afterwards, somehow Tony talked you into taking him up on his offer for alone time in his remote property upstate.
It was nice, but cold, which you would’ve complained about if you hadn’t had a personal heater in the form of your super soldier husband. The same man who was bent over the oven right now, sliding in a tray of something that he wasn’t letting you see. What you were happy to look at in the meantime, though, was that ass, somehow still so plump and prominent in a pair of flannel pajama pants that you’d hardly seen him take off since you’d gotten here. One of your favorite sights, that probably would be until the end of time, was Steve when he was relaxed and comfy. And you knew he loved to see you the same way, wearing a pair of old sweats and his Army hoodie that he’d gotten soon after joining this century.
The view earned him a cat call whistle, and when he stood and closed the oven door, you were sure the blush on his cheeks wasn’t just from the heat in the kitchen. It was nice how much you could still make him a little bashful after all this time.
You watched his eyes, full of amusement and affection as he rounded the corner of the couch to move towards where you were curled up in a blanket by the fire.
“You gonna tell me what you and those buns have got cooking, good looking?”
Steve let out a lighthearted chuckle and the corners of his eyes creased, still as beautiful as ever. He shrugged as he lifted the soft throw blanket and settled in against the armrest before gesturing for you to snuggle up to him.
“No way. It’s a surprise. You can guess once it’s done, though.”
You sighed as you laid a hand and your head on his chest, adjusting until you were comfortably laying with him, legs tangled. Steve reached for the book you had turned upside down on the coffee table to keep your page and looked over a few lines.
“The Hobbit, huh?”
You nodded, the rustling sound of his threadbare hoodie on your ear just covering his faint heartbeat.
“Yeah, Bucky lent it to me.”
Steve exhaled a laugh through his nose, a boyish grin rising on his face. “That’s the least he could do. Punk stole my copy back in the day, then gave it to some girl he never saw again after he was done.”
You smiled in response to the way he reminisced about the old days. You absolutely loved when Steve would bring up his childhood memories. They were so different from yours, yet so full of parallels. Kids will be kids, after all.
You put your chin on his chest to look up at him, met with sparkling blue eyes, reflecting the bright light that bounced off the snow outside the windows.
“Of course he did. He was a charmer, wasn’t he?”
Steve leaned down for a kiss as you stretched to meet him.
“For sure. Not as much as me, though, of course.”
You playfully rolled your eyes along with him. “Right, of course. I’m sure you were a real heartbreaker back in the day.”
Steve’s eyebrows lowered and the corners of his lips turned upward in a sarcastic smile. “Left and right.”
You placed a reverent kiss on his sternum before resettling yourself on his pec, squishier than usual from not having been to the gym in a few days. It was perfect.
You smiled to yourself. “Well, I’m glad those days are behind you.”
Steve brushed a hand up and down your back. “I’d never break your heart, you know, I’d rather work to fill it with love every day. Forever if I can.”
Steve always knew exactly what to say to have you blushing, too, even if it was unintentional. The words that spilled out of his mouth warmed you from the inside out with how sincere they always were. You patted his belly gently, “and I hope to do the same for you.”
Steve hummed before he held the book back up in his line of sight.
“Glad we’re on the same page. Speaking of which, you want me to read for you?”
You nodded again, tucking a hand up under his hoodie, warming your cold fingers against his abs. “Mmmhmmm.”
Steve cleared his throat and began, his voice a smooth, deep rumble conducted through his chest and across your body. It was one of the best sounds, one of the best feelings, to be curled up close to him and taken care of. Cherished.
The gentle cadence of his voice carried in the cozy air around the couch as your breaths began to even out. Steve sensed it as your body relaxed into his, fully softened in a light slumber. He finished the page he was on just to make sure you were fully out before marking where he stopped and placing your book back on the table. He continued lulling you to sleep gently, his blunt fingertips drawing circles between your shoulder blades. Steve basked in the sunshine of enjoyment that came from how safe he knew he made you feel.
He sat there for a second, satisfied with everything in his life. With you, everything hard he’d gone through before was worth it. Nothing could break the feeling of fullness in his heart.
And then he smelled it. The cinnamon rolls. How long ago had he put them in? He craned his neck to look at the timer on the stove. They were just past halfway done. And Steve would rather die than move you right now when you were so peaceful. He considered his options and pulled out his phone.
Tony, can you remotely turn off an oven up here?
No. What part of ‘everything’s off the network except whatever you bring up there’ did you not understand?
Steve sighed to himself. He thought Tony was joking. Could he actually have a place somewhere so disconnected? He knew there was at least a Wi-Fi router, but really? Nothing else? Tony Stark has changed.
Why? Doing something else that’s keeping you from the oven?😏
Yes. But not like that. Steve rolled his eyes and opened up a different text conversation.
Sam, can redwing open doors?
Yeah, but the door probably won’t close again. He’s got lasers. You need help?
Steve sighed again. That wouldn’t work either.
No, I’ll figure it out.
One more try. Maybe Bucky and Nat?
Hey. Either one of you close to Tony’s place in the mountains? I got a favor to ask.
No. We’re at dinner in the city. Why? Everything ok?
Steve bit his lip in contemplation.
Yeah. Nothing I can’t handle. Thanks anyway.
He locked his phone and set it on the coffee table next to your book, running a hand over his face. He could do this. Maybe he could carefully carry you to the kitchen, just to take them out, then go back to the couch? But would that disturb you too much?
Maybe he could stuff pillows into his spot and you wouldn’t even realize you were clinging to something else. Yeah. That could work.
He looked back over at the timer on the oven. It had just reached two minutes left. Okay, he was gonna do it. Just move carefully and quietly and quickly to hit the button so the timer didn’t startle you awake.
But it was too late. Before he could even move a muscle, you were stirring. Eyes still closed, your nose rose to the air, taking a deep breath of the scent that had permeated the cabin. A smile took over your face and your eyes finally fluttered open, landing on Steve. Your voice held a light rasp to it.
“Cinnamon rolls. My favorite.”
Steve nodded. “Uh huh.”
You shifted to straddle his waist, arms clinging around his torso. “Cinnamon rolls made by my favorite cinnamon roll.”
Steve laughed at the long running joke of what you always called him, moving to sit up, big hands holding you steady against him. He stood with your body wrapped around his and made it to the oven before the loud beeping started, shutting everything off and setting the tray on the counter.
“Of course, darling.”
He set you on the granite beside the stove, kissing your nose at your whine at the loss of his touch. He opened the fridge and pulled out a container of cream cheese icing he had made, setting it in your hands as he sifted through the drawers for a knife.
You took off the lid, swiping a finger through the frosting and sucking it off with a moan.
“Dang, that’s good.”
You scooped up another bit, holding it out for Steve, but when he opened his mouth, you booped it onto his nose. With a giggle, you went to kiss it off but Steve was too quick, whisking you away back to the couch.
“Ohhh, you’re gonna get it.”
Before you knew it, you were kicking and laughing so hard that your stomach hurt, surrounded in a world of love and warmth with your husband. Even though this was a short trip, every day with him felt like this on the inside.
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Bonus A/N: ohhhh sweet Steeb. Gimme this cinnamon roll🥺
Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63
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dangerousstrawberryshark · 5 months ago
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Fratboy! Chris Evans hosts a party at the fraternity house. he stares at his boyfriend while he dances with his friends. He's hypnotized by you wearing a short skirt that barely covers the fat swell of your ass. His cock jumps to life knowing that you're also wearing a thong underneath the flimsy piece of fabric.
Fratboy! Chris Evans manspreading, discreetly rubbing his prominent bulge through his sweatpants as he strips you naked with his eyes. After a while, he sees you leaving your friends and walking towards him. He pats his lap, gesturing for you to sit on him.
Fratboy! Chris Evans audible groans as he feels your weight pressing down on him. Your thighs on both sides of his thighs and your fat ass pressed against his bulge. You were talking to him about something but he wasn't paying attention. His thoughts were only focused on your body.
Fratboy! Chris Evans groping your hips and ass. His large hands squeeze and knead the soft flesh as he thrusts his clothed cock against your thong-clad ass. He moans softly which pulls you from your conversation. Grinning, you moved your thong to the side and discreetly pulled Chris's cock out of his pants. The thrill of the situation made his cock ache as this was new.
Fratboy! Chris Evans smirks as he slips his cock inside your tight heat. He pressed his lips against yours to muffle the moans of pleasure. It is apparent you had prepped yourself beforehand, "a little minx." Chris thought as he fucked your tight ass. His hand gripping your hips, surely leaving a mark. Everybody else at the party was unaware of the unhinged actions happening close to them
Fratboy! Chris Evans got bored of the cockwarming and carried you upstairs to his room. There he pounded you to oblivion, nobody was aware as your moans and cries of pleasure were covered by the loud music. He was definitely gonna do this again.
format by @starboye
TAGLIST: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation @ghostking4m @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @your-cow-boy @mack-thedork @geminiflanagan69 @boypied
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bluetimeombre · 4 months ago
Text
'Bye Sebastian!'
You had stared in the most of the movies of all. The cast love you, maybe some men love you more than others (fem reader)...
[this is a complete self indulgence piece of writing for me. I have loved marvel for YEARS and I always watched interviews of them all and wanted to be apart of it, it's hilarious. So this is just some of the best parts that I love, for you. Would love to do a part two...]
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YOU AND MARVEL... Marvel and you. It was like bread and butter. Like peas in a pod. You were the youngest of the original seven, you were in the most movies. You were the most loved, cast and crew and fans.
Perhaps some loved you more than others...
SEBASTIAN, MACKIE & YOU,
thirst tweets,.,
Quite possibly one of the most chaotic and best loved trio's of the Marvel cast. The three of you played friends of Captain America, in some cases, maybe some of you played something a little more. But behind the scenes, the three of you made the perfect trio.
Sebastian's quiet soul with your constantly gushing one. And Mackie was there... usually to bring out the worst in you.
Once, when the three of you were staring in a Marvel show and you were all forced to read thirst tweets to each other, it got too sweet.
"I've done this far too many times," you said as Sebastian held the bucket out to you.
He grinned. "And yet the people still find the filthiest things to say about you."
"Preach," added Anthony.
Sebastian dug in first. "I want someone to look at me the way Sebastian Stan and Y/N look at each other."
The both of you aww and pull little faces to each other. You'd started the Marvel journey together, so maybe you and Seb had soft spots for each other.
Mackie was off to the side. "That's great.... that's great."
"I look at Mackie with pure loathing, so," you shrug.
Mackie takes another piece of paper. Reading: "Anthony Mackie you cutie patootie, come sit on my face I will eat you ass like a fudge brownie."
"Oh my-" you can't hide your shock as you cup your hand over your mouth and hide your blushing face.
"First of all," said Mackie. "Send a ticket bitch, let's do this."
You shake your head, still getting rid of your blush.
Sebastian's turn is next. "I don't even know what this means- Sebastian Stan is one thicc B-I-H."
You and Anthony nod. "Bitch," you both inform him.
"Right," he nods. "That's-that's kind."
"So true," you add, going in for yours. "I just wanna be Y/N's stay at home husband. The dishes will be clean, the laundry will be done and her ass will be ate- what is with all this ass eating," you look around as Mackie laughs, clapping you on the shoulder. "But thank you, I guess."
"Dog, that's already me," said Mackie, stealing the paper from you and throwing it into the distance.
You look aghast. "Anthony Mackie is not allowed anywhere near my ass."
Sebastian took another paper and started to read, chuckling to himself. "Listen, when Y/N said 'those steal blue eyes let you know where home is, that's my safe place,' about Sebastian's eyes, bitch I felt that."
"Well done for reading Bitch this time," you nudged him, proud.
Sebastian playfully glared at you, flexing his jaw like he would bite. "They didn't spell it out like that last time!"
"How do you feel about that?" asked Anthony.
Seb only meant to glance at you to share a smile but it turned to a smirk.
Of course Mackie caught up on this. "Don't look at us like that, man, you gotta look in the distance when you talk to us."
Sebastian blushed. "No I feel good, It's a good feeling, it's good."
Mackie took another paper. "Thinking about Anthony Mackie taking a nap on Sebastian Stan's couch, don't bother me."
You start cackling immediately, looking to Seb who laughed as you immediately knew where it was going.
"You have a nice couch man," said Mackie, smirking and playing it on.
"You've put this on the internet-" said Seb. "You've never seen it!"
"You have a nice couch homie!"
"He's never been to my house!" Sebastian told the camera firmly.
"That's a lie-" said Mackie as you continue to laugh to yourself in between them, "alright fine, you scared of people breaking in because of your couch, alright fine it's an awful couch." Anthony gave the camera a stern look.
"The only person to have been on my couch is Y/N and that's how it stays!" said Seb.
It's your turn to look to the camera and win, throwing your thumbs up and mouthing 'I win.'
escape room,.,
There was another time when you proved how great of a trio you were, even in a group of other people. When you, Sebastian, Anthony, Letitia and Benedict all had to do an escape room.
"Oh it's for real, they're locking us in guys!" said Letitia as the door locked and red sign flared.
Dramatically, you pulled on the handle, leaving it with all your weight. Sebastian behind you laughed.
"Chances are they don't make it out in time," Joe Russo, the director of the film and also the one to suggest this, said through the walkie talkie, but didn't realise they were linked into the room.
"Hey!" you protest.
"Find the stones," he said.
You nod and head over to Benedict Cumberbatch, patting his shoulders. "This is all you Sherlock." You instead made it your mission to just be annoying with Mackie at your side, the camera's picking up on all of it.
Eventually, Sebastian joins you and the two of you spend a good time looking around the room, trying to figure it out together.
"You better check your draws, Y/N," said the voice of Joe Russo.
Mackie clicked at you. "Y/N, take your pants off, dude."
You act to oblige but Sebastian had already found the real clue to whish Mackie whines loudly at the fact you weren't taking your pants off.
You and the group get the cards of the stones, Sebastian adding more and more as he finds most of them. Benedict finds the last one in the clock.
"Ah, that's what I was gonna do!" said Mackie.
"This is too much fun," said Russo.
"We can hear you!" you call as everyone else tries to find out the code, Sebastian alone in a corner.
"What's the number of your apartment?" asked Letitia. "Strange?"
"How's he supposed to know, he shot that film five years ago," you joke.
As everyone still tired to find out the code, you headed over to the camera man, whispering in. "I'm being really helpful."
Seb joined your side, arm ghosting your back. He hardly minded the camera crew as he asked you. "Do you think lunch will be after this?"
In that time, the code had been found, a laser had been pointed and Mackie had thrust a card into your hand, which you waved around without knowing what it was for.
"Y/N, you're holding the de-coder," said Russo.
You look around helplessly and shrug, leaving Sebastian laughing at you. But then came Anthony's desperate call for you two.
"It's this way!" the two of you chase after him, laughing all the way.
red carpets,.,
You were in the middle of an interview during the Civil war press conference, where names were being screamed and stars were flooding the carpet.
It was all going well before Mackie caught wind of you being around, and he walked over with Sebastian to greet you.
"Woah," they said.
"Oh no," you shake your head.
"Y/N, man you're looking good," said Mackie, standing up on the platform with you. "Man, oh man, let me tell you something-"
"No!" you chuckle as he throws a friendly arm around your shoulder. You notice Sebastian watching and through a helpful look at him.
"You ever see someone this good looking walking down the street, they gonna get arrested, cause they're killing everybody," said Mackie, "Look at this, pow-pow, pow-pow, pow!"
"Why don't I just let you interview each other?" said the interviewer.
Mackie took it as invitation to steal the mic and to urge the lady on, pulling up Sebastian instead. "Go on then, go on, get outta here, get outta here!" He took to looking in the camera. "Hey how's it going, I'm here with Sebastian Stan interviewing Y/N at the Civil War premier, one of the stars of Civil war-"
"One of them?"
"Tell me, Y/N, how's it going? How you feeling tonight?" asked Mackie while Sebastian couldn't do anything but stare and fix his blazer, trying to look his best.
"Next to you? Strong."
Mackie giggled.
"I'm breathing in your cologne right now, it's strong, it's good," you pat him on the shoulder.
"Hey, i'm not a player, I just shower a lot," he said to the camera.
You laugh and slowly pry the mic from his hands. "I wanna know about these two gentlemen over here, mainly Mr Sebastian Stan, tell me Sebastian, who are you wearing tonight?"
You lean across Mackie, acting as if he wasn't there to which he pretends to take offense for. It takes Seb a moment of two to stop his blushing and smiling to answer you.
"Prada, Y/N."
"Ohh, a lot of Prada," you and Mackie cheer together. "That's not me that's Jay-Z. Little black, on grey, on black, I like it," went on Mackie.
Sebastian looked to you. "Do you- do you like it?"
Mackie helped you aim the microphone to your lips.
"I love it. Love the pocket-square, really brings out your eyes."
"Someone said to me, you look like you just came out of a Chinese restaurants, I said- maybe I did!" he joked, causing you and Mackie to hold on and laugh.
"Ok so what about your workout routine?" you ask, as a way of really hitting the hard questions. You cross your arms over your chest and talk into the mic, practically blocking out Mackie, "I think the people want to know how you get all hot and sweaty. I mean- what's your chest at now, a forty-eight?"
Sebastian stops you, an accusing finger in your face getting closer. "Hang on, the last time I saw you you said I was getting smaller!"
"No, actually. I think the last time I saw you I promised I'd climb you like a tree, that-"
Mackie waved his arms around, stealing your microphone as you and Sebastian laugh, teasing each other away from the ears of the mic. "Woah, woah, woah... woah!"
And it happened again, a few years later at the premier of Endgame.
Sebastian and Anthony's character had dusted, yours hadn't so you didn't have much time to spend with them, but when you did, you all made sure to make the most chaos you could.
You creep up on an interview with Sebastian, slowly wrapping your arms around his waist and standing there, non-chalant.
It took Sebastian all of one second to know it was you.
"Oh my god, you!" he embraced you quickly, smoothing down any wrinkle he made in your outfit.
"How are you?" your voice is muffled from his side as he holds you.
"I was about to get my dance on, i'm so glad you're here!" he said, letting you go but keeping an arm around your waist.
"Your dance on?" you look between him and the interviewer, quickly saying hello.
"Yeah, she snapped, but it meant that I dusted, you know," he said.
You shrug. "Oh and you just wanted to show us your moves?"
"Yeah I was getting ready," he said. Then. Sebastian Stan took a step back, a hand on your shoulder and looked you over. "Wow, you look amazing!"
"So do you, you know your suit matches your eyes."
Suddenly, from behind the two of you, Anthony Mackie popped up and plucked the microphone from the lady and the two of you make room for him, chuckling.
"Let me tell you something- we're here-" said Mackie.
"Not again!"
"We're here with Sebastian and Y/N, here today. One the mark of greatness, another the measure of beauty. How does it feel- no, actually, Y/N, do you have any funny antidotes from what happened two years ago on set?"
You nod. "So many, you weren't in any of them," you said in the mic as Anthony pushed it closer and closer into your face.
"Was there anyone you hated on set?"
You pretend to think about it. "Um yes, Chris Hemsworth."
"Is there anyone who hates you?"
"Yes, Chris Hemsworth."
"No," Sebastian chuckled, "no one hates you."
"You're wrong, Chris Hemsworth."
"Where is he tonight?" asked Mackie, again shoving the foam of the microphone into your face.
"Far away from me," you say deep into it.
"Ok, cool, cool, i'm gonna make sure to interview Hemsworth tonight, how does that make you feel?"
"Please do."
Sebastian boasted about Mackie's suit, pointing out the pocket square tucked in his blazer pocket. "You got my Christmas gift to you?"
"I did," said Mackie, grinning, turning to explain to those listening. "He sent me a pocket square of Y/N's face."
You gasp. "I want one!"
Mackie laughed. "I put it in my pocket, hold it close to my heart."
The three of you continued to chat, bringing up the escape room you did earlier in the day.
"It was my first time doing an escape room, actually," Sebastian informed the two of you.
Mackie and you gasped, dramatically. "Mine too!" you both said.
"Oh my god I think they're in love," Said the interviewer.
"Woah, that's so crazy," Mackie said. "You know the three of us, we're just so- it's so- we just have so much in common!"
"It's a beginning every time!" Sebastian grinned.
"It's like every time we meet, we're meeting all over again!"
Sadly, the interview had to come to an end. As Sebastian was pulled away, he gave you one last hug and a kiss on your cheek, promising to find you later.
"Ay, you know this dude?" Said Mackie, watching Sebastian's assistant tug him away.
"Aw, see you soon, miss you- Bye Sebastian!" you call after him.
DID YOU SURVIVE THANOS'S SNAP?
Buzzfeed had the cast of Avengers Endgame sit and take one of their quizzes, whether or not you survived the snap of Thanos.
Finally, they paired you and Chris Evans together. Despite the two of you having been best friends and staring as them too since the first Avengers, it was rare they had you paired. And especially alone.
"Hi, I'm Y/N," Said Chris Evans.
"And i'm the better Chris, Chris Hemsworth," you said. "And we're here today with Buzzfeed to challenge whether we're pussies or not," you said, sure your little curse would be bleeped.
"Yeah, the thing-" said Chris, trying to snap his fingers, "the Thanos-"
"I'm so glad you know these movies well," you joke at the fact he couldn't even call it what it was.
Chris huffs a laugh before you start.
'Which infinity stone would you most like to get your hands on?'
"Good question," said Chris.
You raise your hands and pretend to sup his bicep. "These stones right here!"
He does his famous Chris laugh. "Ok, i'm going mind."
"Boring, i'm gonna go time."
"That's so-" said Chris, making an act of flipping the table. "That's such a you answer."
You frown, "thanks?"
'Which Disney character would you chose to join the Avengers?'
"Oh this is such a you question," you tell Chris, watching to see who he'd pick.
Chris leant back in his chair, resting his hand on the back of yours. He looked at you through his lashes. "Who do you think I'm gonna pick?"
You look back at the options, weighing them up. "You're so gonna go genie."
So he clicked the genie, because you'd said so. "What about you, huh?"
"I mean he's not gonna be helpful at all but I love stitch, I-I have a soft spot for stitch," you say, circiling the guy.
Chris again beamed. "I knew you were gonna say that!"
"You just know me so well."
'Which word would your closest friend describe you as?'
"Perfect!" said Chris for you.
"That's not an option," you tell him.
Chris pulls a face. "Well it should be for you. Actually, I don't think we're that close," he joked.
"No," you chuckle, playing along. "I only met you today."
You and Chris thought about it for a while.
"Why can't I just chose all the above?" you joked but Chris only seemed to agree with you.
"Yeah, can I just pick all of them?" Asked Chris. "Ok, no, how would you describe me?"
You look over at him, leaning on the table. "Dreamy. But that's not on there so... you're loyal, but you're funny, you're successful, i'd go loyal." you and Chris had first become friends when you were both on the Avengers set, terrified at the scale of the world you were joining. He'd joined you for lunch and ever since, whenever you did movies together, you had lunch dates together.
It still took Chris a long time to decide for you but you got there in the end.
'Which is your favourite MCU dynamic?'
There was a picture of Tony and Bruce, Steve and Bucky, Hope and Scott, Thor and Loki, your character and Bucky, your character and Natasha and then Gamora and Nebula.
"Why aren't we on here?" whined Chris as you chuckled.
"So now I just have to pick who I love more, Bucky or Natasha," you said.
"Or you could pick someone else," suggested Chris.
"No, I have to pick me."
"I'm boycotting cause you and I aren't on here."
In the end, you chose yourself and Bucky.
'And finally, what would you say is your personal character flaw?'
"Well, we don't have any so where's none?" said Chris, circling the choices.
"Yours is gonna be that you joke around too much, I can tell you that now," you told him.
Chris chucked. "Maybe I can be a bit too reckless," he said. "But you, you're- you have no faults, this is rigged!" he waves his arms out wide.
"No, maybe i'm... maybe I care too deeply?" you suggest.
Evans rolls his eyes. "That's not a fault, that's just sweet."
Finally you got to the end and your fates were decided.
"We didn't survive!" you yelled, looking at both yours and Chris's fate. "This is all because I chose stitch isn't it?"
AVENGERS ENDGAME
The Endgame press tour was wild and full. But the best part was spending it with the original guys, the one's you started it all with and would end it all with. Robert, Chris, Chris, Scarlett, Bruce and Jeremy were all your little crew.
And doing press with them was always exciting to say the least.
All of you were stood behind a podium, you were sandwiched between Chris Evans and Robert Downey as the Russo brothers determined the game.
"Most likely too," read the Russo brothers.
"Most likely to need to have a nap," you said and threw up your own face.
"Most likely to nap with you!" added Mark Ruffalo, adding his own face.
"Alright Avengers, we'll give you examples, you vote on a fellow avenger who fits each scenario- here we go!"
It almost seemed- to the camera's- that none of you were paying attention as Robert made smooch faces to the closest camera and you and Chris Evans used your cardboard cut out faces to make them kiss.
"Who is the most likely to make you laugh in the middle of a scene?"
A lot of them held up themselves, you held up Evans and Downey. Scarlet picked you and reached over to hit you over the head with the picture of your own face.
"Five hundred points to Renner for using all of them," said the Russo brothers.
Ruffalo had Renner. "I said Renner, he does an amazing squat thrust."
"Oh yes!" both you and Downey got excited at the prospect. "Give it to us Jeremy, give us your warm up, will ya."
And he obliged, dramatically lunging and squating and the such as you all cheered him on.
"Let's not over-do it, you're not thirty anymore," you told him.
"Who is the most likely to stop to read a lost dog poster?"
"Oh my god. Is that even a question?" you throw up Evan's cut out of his face, as does everyone else.
"What a weird question," said Scarlett.
"Chris Evans is a lost dog."
"He has a lost dog!" Ruffalo agreed with you. He reached over for the two of you to hold his hand and slowly, together, say your lines as if they were rehearsed and from the movie. "Someone, somewhere, lost their dog to Chris Evans."
"Yeah his whole facebook page is dogs," agreed Hemsworth.
You look down at the panel of them all. "What's facebook?"
Next was for you all to decorate your own cupcakes, the cupcake challenge.
"Using the ingredients in front of you, you each have three minutes to design a cupcake basked upon your own character!"
Everyone started piping immediately, or throwing decorations on. To your right, Downey went straight with yellow and blue, making a mountain of the icing on his cupcake while most others started moulding things.
You leant down when Robert told you to and opened your mouth and he piped in a long line of icing that had you gagging from the sugary taste.
"Y/N, what are you doing down there?" The Russo brothers asked you.
When you turned to face them, it was like glue in your mouth and blue icing was smeared on your lips.
"It's always messy to start but it comes out in the wash," said Downey.
Eventually you managed to do something with your cupcake.
"Hey, Chris you've got it on your shirt!" you told him, pointing to the area.
When Evans looked down to check the stain, you flicked his nose up, getting icing on him. It ended up with a red nose for him and he splatted his cupcake decoration on your cheek, causing you to gasp and stand, shocked.
"I feel sick, I ate too much fondant," Hemsworth complained.
"Are you just eating?" asked Scarlett.
Chris giggled. "Hmm, yea."
By the end of the three minutes, everyone but Evans and you had a cupcake to show.
"I see Evans went for the Captain America shield on Y/N's cheek, but Y/N where's yours?"
"Oh, I ate it."
MUSICAL BEERS,
an indiscreet make-out,,,
"We're about to play, musical beers, but for that we're gonna need a few more players, please welcome from the stars of Captain America, Civil war, Elizabeth Olsen, Paul Bettany, Sebastian Stan and Y/N!"
The four of you had been invited on to play musical beers with Jimmy Fallon. A game like musical chairs but when the music stops you have to reach for the closest beer cup and down it. You were joining your other Civil war star, Jeremy Renner.
As you all walked out, Sebastian dramatically un-did his blazer while the rest of you went to dirty- game talk.
"I want her out first!" Jeremy pointed at you as you copy his warm-up lunges, causing him to chuckle and push you over.
Eventually, Jimmy wrangles you into spaces. You find your spot and Sebastian slides in behind you, watching you closely.
As the music began, a rather creepy circus type music you all started prancing around the table, taking long strides and pausing too long at each cup.
Your hand kept ghosting the beer cup in case the music stopped.
"You can't do that!" yelled Sebastian and Jimmy.
You groaned loudly and rushed around to the next one. As soon as the music stopped, you grabbed and downed it along with the rest of them, all but Paul Bettany.
You look to Sebastian as you crush your cups and he takes yours, throwing it in the middle, the bin. "I hate beer."
While Paul leaves the game, complaining how this couldn't happen- he was English! You all take your spots, this time you keep a close eye on Elizabeth as she laughs at your determination.
The music starts again and quickly Jimmy falls out the game, practically lunging across the table to reach the beer. You make a dramatic move out of downing it in front of him.
Then there was you, Elizabeth, Sebastian and Jeremy left and only three beer cups.
As the music sped up, Elizabeth reached for the cup, spilling it.
You saw who do it, determined not to lose, you took a gulp of the beer. But the music was still playing!
You look around helplessly.
"Spit it back! Spit it back!" Jimmy calls.
You do so and move on, lucky enough to reach the next beer cup and for Jeremy to be out.
With no music, Sebastian stood in front of the cup you had spit back into. He looked down at it, chuckling to himself.
"I thought the music stopped!" you said, cringing.
"You can't," said Elizabeth, already having downed her beer.
You all stood, watching as Sebastian picked up the cup. He looked at you last time and took the drink. The crowd cheered, the cast laughed and you approached Sebastian as he tipped the cup upside down to show he'd drank it. "I'm sorry," you giggled.
Sebastian wrapped an arm around you. "Best beer of my life," he joked.
The game continued and the two beer cups were placed right next to each other.
"What?" you gasp.
Quickly the the game began again and Elizabeth rushed along side the empty space as you and Sebastian watched each other, checking each others move. He rushed around and then you quickly followed like you were chasing him down until you were at the beer cups.
The music stopped and Lizzie Olsen just grazed your hand by the time you and Seb had picked up the beer cups and downed them.
Lizzie went off laughing and you hugged her before taking your place for the final game.
"I'm slipping- i'm taking my shoes off for this one," you take them off and Lizzie takes them for you as you and Sebastian stand at opposite ends of the table.
"We've already made out!" he called over to you as the cup was placed in between you.
"Yeah, winning's pointless at this point," you said as the music began.
You moved easier, quicker, keeping your eyes on Sebastian although Lizzie and her laughing kept distracting you. You laughed, warning her and taking your eyes of the ball for a moment.
Sebastian was right behind you, hand on his hip and pushing back his blazer as he lingered before you both had to move with the music again.
The music went fast then slowed down, as you both kept reaching and letting go off the cup.
As Sebastian ran back around he reached for the cup as the music slowed and slowed and slowed, but never stopped.
He let it go, looking at you confused.
But as no more notes were played, you grabbed the cup and downed it.
Sebastian was already reaching for you and he barrelled into your body, holding onto you as you drank it and chucked the cup away. "No!" but in his 'dismay' he picked you up and jumped up and down celebrating your win.
"Sebastian made out with Y/N, I think he's the real winner!" said Lizzie.
YOU AND TOM HOLLAND BEING THE KIDS OF THE CAST
You and Tom Holland had hit it off instantly since meeting. Your minds were alike, your humour, everything. Honestly it was kind of frightening how quickly it went well for you guys.
fuck, marry, kill?,.,
On the infinity war press tour, everyone was given all three choices of Chris: Hemsworth, Evans and Pratt. The rest of the cast answered with such:
"Oh I don't like this game cause it has the F word in it," - Pratt.
"We-we we won't use that word, will we? We'll er make love? or just hang out with, cause they're all men and i'm married," - Hemsworth.
"This is a Disney movie," - Winston Duke.
But Tom Holland was ready.
"Fuck. Marry. Kill." Hemsworth, Pratt, Evans. And he didn't take a minute to think about it. "Sorry Evans."
"You had that answer pretty prepared."
"Yeah, a bit too prepared," he laughed.
But he wasn't the only one.
When it got to you, you only cleared your throat and answered.
"Kill. Fuck. Marry." Hemsworth. Pratt. Evans.
"You're marrying Evans?" asked the interviewer.
"If Evans asked me today, I would marry him."
korean food,.,
You and Tom, along with Pom, Benedict and Tom Hiddleston had gone to Korea for press but as far as you and Tom were concerned, it was for trying new food.
You all discussed what food you had and hadn't tried from Korea, Tom being quiet as he listened to them be listed.
"Korean BBQ," Pom added to her list.
Tom perked up from sitting next to you. "Oh yeah, that's good, that's good."
You laugh and mimic him. "Of course, you know Korean BBQ. I like the pancakes," you say when asked.
Tom gasped. "I've never had a Korean pancake."
You look shocked, as if you've never seen him before. "We have to go for pancakes before we leave."
He fist bumped the air.
That day you and the team were trying some of the most traditional Korean food. The first was a Kimbap which was the most classic thing kids would get in their lunch.
"You get to have Spider-man on that lunch box though," said Tom Hiddleston.
"Ah yeah, I did actually have a spiderman lunch box," said little Tom.
"I think I had a spiderman lunch box," added big Tom.
"I still have a spiderman lunch box," you say.
"I actually have a spiderman toothbrush, now," said Tom Holland, admitting it proudly.
"Did you have a spiderman duvet? A spiderman pillow?" asked Benedict.
"I did, I gave them to Y/N," said Tom.
You nod along, proudly. "I sleep like a baby every night."
As you dove into your first treats of the day you were also given several different drinks and the camera really loved to pick up on how Tom gently tapped the top of his can while you pierced a drink with a little straw and took a sip. You really did look like kids compared to the rest.
Tom Holland ranted about his love for Milkis while you rolled your eyes at your drink, Banana Wuyou. Upon trying each of each others drinks, you both preferred the other and continued to drink them throughout.
You all dug in. Everyone talking about how good it was while you and Tom just eat, sharing it together.
You all tried fruit, a Korean fruit from the south that you all enjoyed.
"It's a hybrid, right?" Asked Pom, stealing your attention. "Clementine, Mandarin and orange?"
"How does that happen?" Asked Tom to your side.
"Yeah, how does that happen with food?" you ask as well, the both of you waiting for answers. "How do you get a hybrid of- how does...."
You were met with blank stares.
"Life finds a way, Y/N," Hiddleston said. The host laughs as Benedict puts a hand on your shoulder.
"We'll tell you later."
"Tell us later, please," said Tom, going back to sipping his drink.
interviews,.,
Sometimes, on the rare occasion it was allowed, they put you and Tom Holland in interviews together- only to control the mess. If Tom spoiled something- either you would stop him or just get the interview derailed. If the two of you started joking around and wasted ten minutes of time, only one interview and apology had to be made.
It worked well.
For example, the time you were being asked how the two of you deal with scary moments and films.
"I do pretty well," said Tom, boasting.
"Yeah?" you ask.
"Yeah, I'm pretty thick-skinned when it comes to that sort of stuff," he said. You let him carry on talking a little more before yelling in his face and catching him off guard.
He cursed and had a fist ready at you as you just laugh.
"That Spidey sense," you teased.
Or in another when you let Tom talk and talk about the movie but he was about to say something... spoil something.
You throw your hands out and cover his mouth. "Spoiler!" you sigh, shaking your head as Tom sits, stunned for a moment.
All of a sudden you retract your hand as Tom licked it. He laughs as you hold out your hand, cringing.
"Someone- someone- get me something! Help me!" you joked.
Or another time when you and Tom sat with Benedict as a Watch Mojo interviwer readied to take her seat.
"We love Watch Mojo!" said Tom.
"No way?" she asked.
"Yeah, we're always watching it," he said.
You nod, and mimic the intro to the videos. " 'Welcome to Watch Mojo,' "
"That's me!" said the woman.
Benedict watched as you and Tom looked at each other with excited smiles, pumping your fists and getting giddy like kids.
You shift in your seat. "Can you do the intro for us?" you ask, adding a small, 'please.'
The woman almost rolled her eyes but cleared her throat and accommodated you. "Welcome to Watch Mojo!"
"Oh, no way!" Tom cheered as Benedict laughed confused at the two of you.
693 notes · View notes
levanswrites · 9 months ago
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Call me crazy, hold me down
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pairing: ransom drysdale x reader
summary: you met ransom in college, working as harlan's intern. when he sees you again 10 years later, this time with an engagement ring on your hand, he’s hell-bent on finding out more. he's always had a way of getting under your skin, but this time, it’s different. times have changed—and so have you.
warnings: 18+ SMUT, power play, implied cheating, jealousy, history of FWB, degradation, light breath play, fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight age difference, canon divergence, porn w/ plot, plot twists
word count: 3.4k
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“Ransom? Ransom Drysdale?”
With a velvety swoosh of his overcoat, he turns to face you, sharp blue eyes landing on yours.
Standing in the gilded glow of the country club, Ransom Drysdale wore tradition like a second skin—rich cashmere sweater, perfectly tailored chinos, and the kind of bone-deep confidence that only old money could bestow.
Yet he wore it all with a touch of recklessness, a lazy defiance that set him apart even as he fit right in.
The burgundy scarf draped around his neck—a vibrant, unruly splash against the muted palette of the room.
And, of course, the Gucci loafers. 
With the heels stamped down flat and soles scuffed to oblivion, they made it clear that, among the desperate sea of elites clinging to pedigree, Ransom was both one of them, and something entirely another.
Soft, pink lips part, exhaling your name. 
“Shit.” The incredulity in his eyes replaced just as quickly with an unmistakable hunger, raking over your frame with no remote attempt at decency or subtlety. But then again, neither had ever been his style.
“…is that really you, Sunshine?”
Sunshine. As soon as the nickname glides off his tongue, a memory flashes into your mind - the shock of cold metal against your bare skin, warm hands gripped around your hips as they hoist you up onto a library cart, rucking up the hem of your yellow sundress. 
You blink in quick succession, chasing the thought away. 
“In the flesh.” You nod, flashing him an innocent smile. 
Head cocked in disbelief, he steps in, arms outstretched for a hug. His palm skims your lower back, the other cradling a glass of whiskey.
A heavy whiff of cologne envelops you, that familiar scent of rich vanilla and cedarwood, and it’s all the confirmation you need to know that nothing has changed.
Harvard class of ’11 and '15, side-by-side members of Phi Beta Kappa honor society. 
You’d earned it through countless late nights and waitressing shifts, scrimping and saving just to make ends meet. And him? Well, a shiny new literature building bearing the Thrombey name may have tipped the scales.
For a moment, you let your nose brush against the soft fabric of his cable-knit sweater, whiter than the streaks of cocaine that marked his habits at Harvard’s exclusive club meetings.
As you start to pull back, you catch a flash of your reflection in his aviators, hanging from his collar—a spitting image of the Hamptons elite, you know you’ve never looked better. 
Knows he knows it too, evident in the way his fingers linger over your arm as he pulls back. 
“Whatcha been up to?”  
“Oh, you know, just making ends meet.”
 You sigh, twirling your fingers around the empty glass in your hand. 
“…how’s Harlan doing?”
Hand-picked by the infamous novelist for a summer internship your freshman year, it was Harlan who had introduced you to his other intern. Ransom was a senior then, neither grateful nor interested in the opportunity you had to fight tooth and nail for. 
“Well, old man hasn’t kicked it yet.” 
Ransom sighs, shoulders sagging with an undeniable air of annoyance as his hand leaves your side, stepping back to down sixty dollars worth of whiskey in one go. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, eyes wandering down to the empty martini glass by your hip. He glances back up, licking his lips and pointing a signet ring-clad finger in your direction. 
“Espresso?”
You shake your head, eyes darting down to your glass. 
“Vodka.”
He chuckles, nodding his head.
“Of course. Classic.”
You don’t dwell on his words, nor the suggestive wink he shoots your way as he heads in the direction of the bar, about to fetch you both another round.
You wince, reaching forward to stop him in his tracks.
“Oh no, Ran, you don’t have to.”
With a raised brow, his gaze drops to where your hand rests on his forearm. You pull your hand back abruptly, as if singed by his stare. 
A flicker of something possessive crosses his features, new interest lighting up his eyes. 
Jaw unclenching as he settles on that familiar smirk, though it’s a little stiffer this time. 
He raises his chin, cocking his head to the side, and the bridge of his nose catches the lighting of the overhead chandelier. 
A small twitch in his brow as he murmurs:
“Married, huh?”
You nod softly, pursing your lips as you glance down at the glistening stone on your ring finger. 
“Engaged.”
“Huh.” He murmurs, blinking.
His gaze falters for a moment before they find yours again. Eyes narrowed as he leans in, voice dropping two pegs:
“You know, between us, I always thought I’d be the one to get married first.”
You let out a soft laugh, amusement lighting up your eyes.
“Meaning you thought I’d never get married.”
He shrugs, mirroring the smile on your face.
“Can you blame me? I mean let’s face it…”
Lips inches away from yours, a devilish grin splitting his face wide open. 
“….neither of us were really the marriage type.”
And your heart skips a beat, a raw memory edging its way into your mind.
Coarse upholstery scraping against your cheek, the quiet creaks of wooden furniture ringing across the dorm common room—he’s got you bent over a worn-out couch, holding you down by the neck as he sneers in your ear. 
‘Does your little boyfriend fuck you like this?’
You blink slowly, raising your brows with a quiet breath. 
“That was over 10 years ago, Ransom. I’ve changed.”
He chuckles loudly, head cocking in a silent challenge.
“Is that right?” 
Leans in even closer to your ear, close enough to feel his warm, whiskey-soaked breath.
“Because by the way you’ve been staring at my lips, I’d disagree.” 
Pink lips curl around a set of bright, sharp teeth as he grins, the edges of his wool coat dancing around your frame.
You freeze, breath hitching in your throat as he leans down, his lips grazing your ear and leaving a searing mark—like the red-hot tip of a cigarette against your skin.
“…tell me, Sunshine, you think you can keep your hands off me all night?” 
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“Who is it?”
“Hmm?” You mumble, mind half gone from the way his hands were gripping your hips, ass pressed against the cold marble of the bathroom sink as he rucks your tennis skirt around your waist.
The scent of expensive liquor and mint fill your senses as he grumbles against your pulse point, voice coarse and low. 
“That schmuck you’re marrying.”
He pulls back from the space below your jaw and in the split second your eyes meet his—a viridescent streak of emerald amidst all that smug blue. And you know.
An electric jolt rips through your stomach, equal parts thrill and disbelief, and you throw your head back, letting out an incredulous laugh.
“Drysdale, are you seriously jealous?”
He scoffs, but his hand tightens around the swell of your hips, his ring digging into the soft flesh. Suddenly yanks you to the edge of the marble counter as you gasp, grasping at his sweater-clad chest for balance. 
“You really think I’m the jealous type, Sunshine?” he murmurs, nose brushing against yours as he splays his hand over your exposed knee, warming up the skin. 
Then, with deliberate slowness, drags the blunt tips of his nails up the inside of your thigh, making you visibly shudder.
“Still a fan of that move, huh?” He grins, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
Ignoring your half-assed attempts to push him away, he continues to trail his fingers upward until they find their way to your core, thumbing the outline of your sex through the damp fabric of your panties.
“…so who is he?” He taunts, gripping you in closer, lips pressed against the corner of your mouth. 
“Ransom…” you murmur, scalding under his hungry gaze as it swallows your every reaction—a sarcastic eye roll turning into a genuine show of pleasure once he shoves the flimsy lace to the side, fingertips dipping in between your folds.  
And although you had no plans of humoring his question, Ransom’s other hand flies up to clasp over your mouth, trapping the pathetic whimpers slipping off your tongue.
He shakes his head feverishly, crooning into your ear:
“Shh, wait, wait, you know what? Lemme guess.”  
You only let out a muffled groan in response, eyes rolling back into your head at the way two of his thick fingers enter your sopping cunt, agonizingly slow. 
“Let’s see… does he have a J.D.? 5 years at daddy’s law firm, promoted to senior partner before you could say nepo baby?” 
His fingertips find that plush spot deep inside you and you gasp, his palm muffling broken syllables of his name. His hand clasps tighter against your mouth, wholly ignoring you as you claw at his wrist:
“.. or, or, Wallstreet, maybe? You living out your dreams of being a little trophy wife, sweetheart?”
Pulls out only to add a third finger, shoving his hand deeper between your legs, forcing your knees further apart. You groan at the added stretch and he only smirks, continuing to pump his fingers in and out while ignoring your desperate gaze. 
“Ok, and this might be my personal favorite….” 
A feral flash of teeth as he grins, curling his fingers upward. You can't help but arch your back, your gasp still muffled by his hand over your mouth. 
“…is he one of those self-made, go-getter types? Daddy ditched mommy without a dime so he had to scholarship his way through some shitty state college?”
Faster now, dragging his palm against your clit, hand soaked with your arousal.
“Turned his life around with dedication and work ethic. Is that what you’re telling yourself, Sunshine?”
Eyes squeezed shut, you cling onto the fabric of his coat for dear life as his fingers stroke your g-spot over and over. 
“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Bachelor number 1, 2, or 3?” 
He whispers, releasing his grip from around your mouth as you gasp for air, his now-free hand dropping down to his belt buckle. 
“F-fuck you, Ransom, He’s…ah, shit—“ 
A clink of designer metal is all the warning you get before he’s burying himself in you, replacing his fingers with the head of his fat cock. The words dissolve on your tongue as he pushes inside at a glacial pace, prolonging the ache of the stretch. Drags it out just as slowly, delivering a sharp slap against your clit, before sinking back in. 
Your eyes flutter shut at the obscenity of it all, the shameless lick of his lips as he smirks at your obvious embarrassment. 
“Fuck, look at you.” He murmurs to himself as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a searing kiss, his tongue pushing past your teeth as he sets out on a relentless rhythm.
Pulls back with a wet smack to raise his free hand up to your mouth, coated thoroughly with your slick. Pushes three fingers past your lips, thrusting them down your throat, deep enough to make you gag. Your eyes roll back, clenching around his cock as you arch your back, sucking feverishly. 
“That’s it, show me how much you want it.”
And with his fingers still shoved down your throat, he smirks, tugging your head down to meet his gaze.
“Bet he doesn’t fuck you this good, huh?”
The glare you manage to give him as you gurgle around his fingers is just the edge he needs, letting out a loud groan as he snaps his hips into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing across the bathroom tiles. 
Your climax arrives with a strangled cry as your eyes squeeze shut, legs trembling as waves of ecstasy crash over you, your core spasming around his cock. 
While you struggle to catch your breath, Ransom’s thrusts become erratic, grunts growing deeper in an all-too-familiar way. He pulls out with a shudder, guiding your left hand between your thighs to wrap around his slick cock. The engagement ring glints under the dim lighting as you stroke him in quick, firm pulses. Ransom hisses, eyes zeroing in on the hand wrapped around him as he finishes with a throaty groan, streaking your inner thigh with his release.  
A soft jangle of his belt as he slides the buckle into place, while you carefully slide off the marble surface, steadying yourself. 
“You still haven’t answered my question, Sunshine. Don’t I deserve to know what kind of loser managed to tie you down?” 
You’re still breathing heavy, light-headed and buzzing, yet you manage to choke out:
“… fuck off, Drysdale, he’s a bigger man than you’ll ever be.”
He lets out a sharp laugh, hand flying up to grab your chin, smearing spit and remnants of your arousal over your lips. 
Gives you a bruising kiss, teeth and all, just because he can.
Pulls back with a wet smack, flashing you a smirk that chills you to the bone.
“Yeah? Is that why I just fucked his fiancée in a country club bathroom?”
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Three days later...
“Ransom Drysdale, you’re under arrest for attempted murder of the first degree. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot—“
Ransom’s sharp chuckle interrupts the arresting officer mid-sentence. His gaze snaps over to you, standing in the corner of the living room, arms crossed and watching intently. 
He barks out your name, laced with disdain. 
“You’re a cop? You gotta be shitting me.”
You take slow, deliberate steps toward him as the officer finishes reciting his Miranda rights, yanking Ransom’s balled-up fists into a set of cuffs. Ransom’s not foolish enough to resist, but he squares his shoulders, holding his ground as you approach him. When you’re close enough, he leans in, his voice dropping to a low growl, face inches from yours.
“You slut.” He spits, all nine circles of Hell swirling in his eyes. “You think you can fuck me over like this and get away with it?” 
He huffs out a breath, nostrils flaring. Glances up past your shoulder at Benoit Blanc, standing in the archway of the foyer.
“… this isn’t over. I’ll see all your asses in court. You hear me?”
You tilt your head, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you glance black at the arresting officer, silently signaling for one last moment. 
“You know, it’s so funny you mention that, Ransom.”
Crimson lips raised into sharp peaks as you smile, taking another step forward.
“Can I share a secret?” You lean in, voice barely a whisper.
“Guess who’s leading the prosecution on your trial?”
You watch as his scowl falters, a flicker of confusion that douses the fire in his gaze.
4 years of shitty undergrad, putting up with entitled assholes like Ransom Drysdale, all so you could graduate at the top of your class and land a full ride to Yale Law. Youngest prosecutor in the state of Massachusetts to hold the title of Attorney General, just freshly appointed last week, and with a perfect record to boot.
Just one look at your first case—a claim filed by Harlan’s home care nurse who suspected foul play, that someone had switched the labels on her med vials, nearly forcing her to administer a fatal dosage—and you knew who had dunnit. 
Pulled a few strings to get on the shortlist for the exclusive country club that Ransom frequented, and a flash of your left hand plus a couple drinks back at his place was all it took. 
Inebriated from the whiskey and drunk off his arrogance—anything for his sweet, innocent ray of sunshine, lapping up tales of his grandiose plans with wide-eyed admiration.
How he had swapped the labels, how he managed to cover his tracks. 
How a damn Brazilian nurse foiled it all with her selfless resolve, getting Harlan to the ER even after administering the correct medication. 
It was everything you needed to build a complete case against him.   
You living out your dreams of being a little trophy wife, sweetheart?
Eat shit, Drysdale.
“So what.” Ransom spits, rolling his eyes, but the mask slips just another inch further.
“You don’t think my lawyers can get me out of this? It’s attempted murder, for fucks sake.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” You step in closer, cocking your head to the side.
“You know, Ran, first-degree attempted murder is punishable for life in prison in Massachusetts.”
Even closer now, his face just inches from yours, breath hot and jagged against your lips. 
“Hire all the fucking lawyers you want — I don’t lose, asshole.”
A silence that feels like forever as his eyes dart furiously between yours, nostrils flaring.
And when he fails to find the familiar submission in your eyes, his smug, devil-may-care bravado is broken with a quick twitch in his brow—a brief flicker of realization, concealed just as quickly under a mask of rage. He lunges forward, looking just about ready to break out of his cuffs and wring both his hands around your neck. The officer yanks back on his arms in warning.
You don’t so much as flinch.
“You vile. fucking. bitch.” He hisses, gritting through his teeth.
“Hmm, takes one to know one.”
You smile, promptly stepping back as the arresting officer hauls Ransom away. 
“You slut! I’m gonna ruin your life, you hear me?” The sound of jangling metal cuffs rings out in the foyer as he’s dragged out of his grandfather's estate, past Blanc who simply sidesteps Ransom’s loud tirade.
“… get the fuck off me!”
“See you in court, Mr. Drysdale!”
You call, waving from the front door of the Thrombey mansion, watching the outline of Ransom’s designer sweater get shoved unceremoniously into the back of a police vehicle. 
Through the tinted windows of the back seat, you catch the glimpse of a man stripped of his mask, a ghost from your past, face twisted in fury and defeat.
“Miss, didn’t nobody tell you that gloatin’s in poor taste?”
A low, southern drawl croons from beside you. 
You flash a smile at Benoit Blanc, who’s watching the police car pull out of the driveway behind a lit cigar, an equally satisfied expression on his face.
“Oh, I think a little gloating may be warranted.”
"Ya know... the way you’ve pieced this all together is mighty impressive. You sure I can't convince you of a career as a private investigator?”
You laugh, watching the police car disappear through the dense woods.
“That’s kind of you, detective, but the courtroom’s where I belong.”
You purse your lips, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the band on your ring finger. 
“Plus, I… may have cheated my way in a little with this one.”
Blanc shrugs, smiling around his cigar.
“I figured as much, seeing as how you and Mr. Drysdale were on a first-name basis.”
You let out a small sigh, turning to face Blanc as you extend a hand. 
“It’s been a pleasure, detective. Couldn’t have done it without your insight.”
“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.”
Cigar hanging from his lips, Blanc shakes your hand with a firm grip, before the shiny stone on your finger catches his eye, glinting in the afternoon sun. 
“…that’s a nice ring you got there, ma’am. Must be a lucky fella.”
He flashes you a wink, and you have to fight the urge to smile, realizing why this strange character of a man was heralded as the world’s greatest P.I. 
After Blanc leaves you with a tip of his hat, you take a few steps out into the sprawling yard of the Thrombey mansion, turning around to take in the full view of the estate. 
‘Playing life like a game without consequence…’ 
Harlan’s words echo in your head—one of the many nights you’d stayed over late, helping him finalize manuscripts while Ransom was out partying. 
‘….untill you can't tell the difference between a stage prop and a real knife.’
Lucky you that Ransom couldn’t tell 10-dollar cubic zirconia from a real diamond, either. 
After taking one final glance at the estate, you start your descent down the hill of the Thrombey estate, twisting the ring off your finger and tossing it into the dense shrubbery where it vanishes from view.
“So long, Drysdale.”
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A/N: so uhm... this might be the filthiest thing I've ever written? hope you enjoyed the little reveals in the story, had to stay true to the og genre. title credit to fiona apple
678 notes · View notes
honeeysagee · 26 days ago
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Long Night?
once again, i'm missing soft!steve. sue me! here's a little context. warnings: very touch depraved Steve, fluff
summary: 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺 — 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘞𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰𝘯. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵—𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
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The screen door creaks and slams, but you don't flinch. You hear him before you see him - boots off, footsteps slow and heavy, shirt already discared and slung over one shouler. You swear he's gotten bigger since you've been staying over these last few weeks.
He smells like the day: sun, hay, sweat, and earth. The kind of scent that sink into your and stays.
Steve pauses in the doorway, catching his breath, eyes meeting yours with a softness that speaks volumes. Without a word, he moves toward the kitchen, the familiar rhythm of his movements grounding you.
You watch as he fills the kettle, sets it on the stove, then leans against the counter.
"Long day?" You asks, while wearing his shirt and typing away on some report you barely had interest in. No, you were distracted by the 6'2 sweating mess that just stalked through the house.
Steve glances over, water pooling at the corner of his gaze. "Yeah," He says, voice low and measured. "They called again today."
You stop typing, "Government?" You prompted gently.
He nods, a tired exhale fills the room entirely. "That 'New Avenger' nonsense. They want me to lead. Be the symbol again," He picks up the kettle, no mitten. That's your man right there. "I already told them. I'm not Captain America anymore. Sam is. I don't even know why Bucky agreed to that."
He pours the tea in the mug, lifts it towards you. "I need this." He murmurs - cradling the mug and enjoying the warmth. Slowly, he makes his way to the sofa then spreads his legs far apart until he's comfortable. Yet, you also knew it was an invitation.
You notice his fingers twitch, restless, thumb brushing the empty space beside him almost desperately.
You wait.
"Bunny, lap." Steve demands so softly - you thought he asked first, but you knew better. Since reconnecting, he's been a little demanding and needy with touch, but you didn't mind.
You set your laptop aside and slide onto his lap. He breathes out a shaky sigh, arms easing around your waist, fingers pressing into fabric like he’s anchoring himself to something real.
You rest your head against his shoulder, and he loosens the tension in his neck, pressing forward just enough to deepen the contact.
He breathes in, slower now, each exhale softer than the last—letting the quiet evening fill the space between you. Then your lips brush the side of his neck, softly, a tender question in the warmth of the moment.
Steve stills for a heartbeat, then wraps his arms around you tighter, one hand gently tilting your head so he can press a careful, slow kiss just behind your ear. The movement is gentle, as if he’s rediscovering the meaning of touch.
His lips trace small, feather-light kisses along the nape of your neck. Each one is deliberate—silent, loving. He murmurs your nickname into the quiet, murmurs that linger like a secret: “Bunny.”
The world beyond the sofa—fields, obligations, expectations—fades. There’s just this: soft lips, the scent of earth and tea, the warmth of Steve’s arms, and the unspoken promise that here, tonight, touch is enough.
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fineanddandy · 2 months ago
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First Father’s Day Gift
Relationship: stepdad!Steve Rogers x black!stepdaughter
Warnings: age gap (reader is over 21), graphic language, stepdad/stepdaughter relations, smut, unprotected sex, cheating/sneaking around, 18+
A/N: many many many distractions later, it’s here, my very random stepdad!Steve fic that I got inspired to write yesterday for Father’s Day. I felt kinda weird dropping it on the actual day since it’s sooo…so I’m glad I’m dropping it today. And who would’ve thunk my little return would be an Evans/Steve Rogers fic…looks like seeing Materialists had me feeling some type of way… “you said no more Evans fics” yeah well I can’t control my evil creative brain y’all…
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Father’s Day…you didn’t believe in celebrating the holiday after your mom got with Steve. Your dad long gone with his new wife and life, you had no real reason to care anymore. And now you’re stuck with this fuckin asshole who just won’t stop…tormenting you with his mouth, his hands, his fuckin everything. Why would you voluntarily do anything for either “father” figure in your life? So when your mom asks, “what’re you going to give Steve for Father’s Day,” for the twentieth time, you almost snap, “I don’t know, a blow job?!” Because you know that’s what he wants, what he expects. Because she knows you don’t give a shit and rather not pretend. But instead, you bite the same raw spot in your cheek that you’ve been gnawing at all week. You almost want to tell her to stop asking.
“I really don’t know mom…” you answer dryly, drop your shoulders and rolls your eyes. “You know how I feel.”
“I just wish you’d try,” she sighs, as if you’re hurting her feelings for not acknowledging Steve for being your stand in daddy. If only she knew what kind of daddy he was to you…
“Okay fine,” you groan in defeat, “I’ll get him a card or gift card or something,” because you’ve never even done that much for him. Just a measly happy father’s day greeting and your attendance at dinner. That’s all he deserved.
“That’d be very nice of you.”
You have no idea…you grimace as you leave the room, just to bump into Steve coming from upstairs. You avoid his heavy stare, his suffocating heat, continue your journey back to your room, but he takes you by the arm and pulls you back into his big body.
“Make sure you write something sweet…personable…” he whispers in your ear with a clever smirk, and a chill faintly falls down your spine. Try not to nuzzle into his stubble to feel the burn. “Something I’ll remember forever…”
“Ok Steve,” you gulp as you break his hold and stomp up the stairs, hands trembling at your sides. You can feel his smoldering eyes scaling up and down your back, imagining him standing there petting his bulge. Your heart races so fast you could pass out.
Steve’s been driving you up the walls with all his relentless teasing and edging, running you so hot sometimes you damn near black out from all the ache. He was fuckin with you for a reason, had to be. Like he’s laying the foundation to destroy you. You just don’t know when…and something in your gut told you it was going to be on Father’s Day as a sick little present to himself. Staring you down with his bright blue eyes piercing through your soul, lips deviously curled, ready to pounce on you. Steve’s been wilding out, and you’re exhausted. Hasn’t even fucked you yet and your body’s tired, sensitive, your pussy’s already salivating for his fat cock what the fuck. There’s no telling what lies ahead, and you don’t know if it scared or thrilled the fuck out of you.
You almost hate to love his late night torture sessions. The tension, the secrecy… Your heart skipped a beat every single time you happened to hear the doorknob turn, your body ever so slightly squirming under the covers as he tip toed over to your bed. Sometimes, you’d pretend to be asleep and wake up annoyed he was disturbing you with his perversions, but most times, you’d be up waiting for him to silently play with your pussy. It turned you on like no other…his dark figure hovering over you, whispering how good you feel and smell and taste.
“Lay on your back…spread your legs...”
Hypnotized by his voice, his brooding stature, you obeyed, licked your lips as he slipped one of his big hands over your heaving breast, down your stomach under the covers until he found your pussy already hot and wet, pulled his raging dick out of his boxers, aiming it for your opening mouth. Tongue laying out the red carpet, inviting him right on in without hesitation. Steve would just smile, trace your lips with his sticky tip, mesmerized by how willingly you’d give yourself to him whenever he wanted.
“That’s it…that’s my good girl.”
He’d let you roll your tongue all over his girth, make you suck just the head as he toyed with your clit, see how many thick fingers he could fit inside your creamy hole as he fucked your face. Steve was having too much fun spreading your pussy lips apart, popping his veiny dick on your swollen pink lips. Watch the tears fall from the corners of your big pleading eyes, relish in your muffled moans and whimpers…the way you fidget and convulse beneath him just dying to fuck you until you’re depleated.
“Yeah? You want my dick that bad huh? Yes you do baby—awww my good girl so cock hungry…tell daddy how bad you want it…”
You’re already a pathetic mess for your stepdad by the time Father’s Day rolls around.
In the morning, your mom and Steve have an intimate holiday breakfast you wish you knew about before you drowsily stumble into the kitchen to find them sharing food off each other’s plate. You grumble in angst as you turn heel out of there, bothered by the fact that he winks at you just as you two meet eyes. You can wait til they’re done to eat that’s fine. By midafternoon, your mom’s in your room telling you what to wear for dinner. Some little spaghetti strapped dress you know Steve’s going to end up going crazy over, so you try to distract her with other options but they just won’t do.
“It’s just so cute on you, and it’ll be perfect for the place we’re going to.”
That evening, when you come down the stairs in the dress, you could’ve sworn he was going to rip it off and take you right then and there in front of your mom. But luckily enough, he kept his shit together until you guys got to the restaurant. Plopped his thick ass in the seat next to yours once your mom was sat and immediately braced your thigh as the waiter asked for drink orders. You’re going to need copious amounts of wine to get through this dinner, and thankfully enough your mom orders a bottle for the table. She’ll have to order another before the night’s over.
Steve keeps a territorial hand stroking your thigh under the table as he casually converses with your mom like nothing’s happening. You choke down tart red wine and pieces of warm bread down your knotted throat as he trails his fingertips over your panties. Circling right where your swelling clit sits. As they talk and you drink, you focus on his seductive touch and lose yourself in how absolutely sinful it feels him teasing you like this. Your head spins, pussy gushes and wildly flutters, and a tiny wet spot collects right where his fingers dance. Steve clears his throat, stifles a wicked grin as he slows his motions. You nearly sink down in the chair, bob your head back and bite back a needy whimper but you remember where you are, who you’re with. Steve’s making you feel so fuckin good though. He watches your body shiver from the corner of his eye and raises a curious brow. A finger pulls your panties to the side as another twirls around your bare clit. You grip the edge of your seat, fight your eyes from rolling back.
“Babe, where’s your card?”
Her out of nowhere question snaps you back to reality. “Oh! Oh uh…uummm…guess I forgot it back at-at the house or whatever…” you anxiously stutter, try to compose yourself but god, your skin’s covered with goosebumps and he’s trying not to laugh, running his finger along your wet slit.
“She can give it to me later,” he smiles just as he sinks his finger as far as he can inside your pussy. “Can’t wait.”
By the time you guys make it home, you’re completely lightheaded from the wine and the edging. Your pussy aches for his fingers, your wetness sticks to your clamped thighs. Ready to call it a night, you slither away from your mom and Steve sharing a moment at the door. It doesn’t matter if he’s distracted or not he’s going to get his hands on you no matter what, but you just need a moment to get your shit together. Your knees buckles, the room spins and bounces. Your mom and Steve whisper and giggle behind you as you inch for your escape. Just get to your bed and lie down, just for a minute. Before he comes in and execute whatever masterplan he’s been sitting on.
Just as you take a weary step up on the first step, Steve grabs your elbow. “Don’t take this off yet,” he delicately orders as he brushes his lips against your ear. You freeze, catch your breath, hope your mom’s out of the room. “Want you patiently sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me, card in your lap. Understood?”
“Yes Steve.”
He hums a happy grin as he releases your flaccid arm, pats you on the ass. “Good girl.”
You fidgeted on the foot of your bed for over an hour waiting on Steve to essentially put your mom to bed so he could use you. You were dying to touch yourself for some relief but it’d be pointless. You were dying for his touch only. And it’d piss Steve off if he found you started without him. Feverish, throat tight and patience wearing thin, you stare down at the card sitting over your hot pussy and think back on the words you wrote earlier. You hope they’re good enough, that your mom never sees them. They’re too telling, maybe a little too sentimental, but you wanted to make him happy…make him want you even more. You’re addicted to that feeling and you don’t know why. You shouldn’t be doing this; you’re better than this fuck shit. But this fucked up ass game with Steve is so…intoxicating…
“Baby girl…”
Your heart leaps at the sound of him finally coming in to your dimly lit room. Heat consumes your anxious body and you lose control over your breath. How does he have this insane affect on you? The moment he’s near you lose all common sense, go practically feral. Tonight he’s shirtless, down to his boxer briefs and socks, somehow much bigger than he’s seemed. Maybe it was the alcohol, the want, that made him feel much more monstrous than ever.
“Happy Father’s Day Steve,” you greet shakily handing the envelope over.
He gleefully takes it and sits on the bed, impatiently jerks you into his sturdy lap. “Awww…did you write something special for me?”
“Yeah daddy…”
Steve rips the envelope open and snatches the card out, excited to read the words that you wrote. For some reason, you’re quite nervous to watch him quietly read the card, afraid what you’d said determines your night’s outcome. You made sure to hit those important key words and phrases: ‘good daddy,’ ‘best stepdad ever,’ ‘treat me like one of your own,’ and the strongest one: ‘I love you Steve.’ Your pussy uncontrollably throbs as you wait for him to finish and acknowledge your good behavior.
“Mmm…my sweet girl, I love this. Thank you for finally getting me something for Father’s Day.” He kisses your cheek, places the card on the bed. “Thank you for finally acknowledging me as your daddy…” Steve smirks as he decorates your jawline with more sweet kisses and snuggles in closer, slips his sweaty hand up between your legs to find your panties gone.
“Yes sir,” you close your eyes and sigh.
Gently stroking your pussy, breathing heavy behind your ear, he softly whispers, “you like me being your daddy right? Like when I’m good to you like this?”
You shudder, “mmmhmmm…” behind thinned lips, doing your best not to roll your hips into his firm hand.
“Fuck I can tell…pussy so wet for me…” A dark chuckle sounds in your hazy head and another chill quakes through you, your folds wildly flutter around his sticky fingers. Melting in his strong arms he’s absolutely smitten with the way you succumb to him. One devilish smirk, one faint touch…all it takes. Your wetness procures along your convulsing entrance and its slippery sound indicates you’re ready for him. “Such a good baby girl mmmm…ready to give daddy his real gift? I think you are.”
Steve’s golden blonde hair is so soft and comforting against your cheek. “What gift?” Your voice so meek and innocent you almost don’t recognize it.
“This pussy I’ve been craving, obsessing over...” He smooths a hand across your shoulder blade, pulls down the thin strap of your dress to reveal your breasts to squeeze and pinch and without any help, your legs part even wider. “Can’t wait much longer...”
You knew it, knew this is what he ultimately was working towards, and even in your erotic daze you knew fucking him was wrong. “But Steve…”
“Ssshhhh come on baby girl. Been waiting for this present for weeks. Give daddy what he wants, please. It’s my day…” He implores as he spreads your pussy open, expose your fat clit to the cool air. He playfully dips his finger up to the knuckle between your wet walls and he purrs, leans in to put a nipple in his mouth. You gasp and flinch, your spine curls into his puckered lips. His tongue flicks and tugs at your erect nipple, his finger stationary inside you. He won’t give you more until you comply. And you’re going to, because you want so much more. You want every last bit of him. He made you that way.
“Mmmkaaay…”
Steve growls into your prickled damp flesh, easing you off his beefy thigh to stand on your wobbly legs before him. For a minute, he admires you there all droopy eyes and panting, silently begging him to put you out of your misery. Shooting you the hottest shit eating smile you’ve ever seen, he manipulates his raging hard dick out of his underwear and tugs at it dripping and veiny with a hardy fist. You’re mesmerized by the drops of clear precum that falls down his flushed rigid skin. So much so you almost fall to your weak knees for a taste but then Steve doles out his instructions.
“Grab a pillow.” He nods back behind him. He loves to tell you what to do, and you love to do what he says, instantly grabbing one of your pillows. “Bend over the edge of the bed and put it under your hips.”
You fall into position as Steve rises, towering behind your ass perked up in the air. He flicks the hem of your dress up over your naked ass, pumping his dick as he gawks at how beautiful you look. “Mmm…look at you…so perfect…” A little slap takes you by surprise. “Are you excited to give daddy his gift?”
Beyond… “Yes daddy,” you huff as you restlessly toot your ass up higher, fisting the covers beneath you. You almost hold your breath as you listen to Steve’s, anticipating his every move. When was he going to shove it inside you? How? Tenderly, like he wanted to take his time feeling your pussy open up? Vigorously, like your pussy’s all he ever desired? Either way, you were ready to finally have him in your guts. Of course, the teasing doesn’t stop now that he’s getting what he wants, no. No he’s got to take his time inching towards your parted legs, feel his cock grow harder amidst his wrapped fingers. The second you feel his sticky wet tip barely touch your hot folds you whine, and Steve moans, splitting you open with such a delicate gasp you drool a bit. His dick fills you with such ease you go limp, reaching you so deep you belt a lustful groan.
“You’re the best baby. The best baby girl…” He chants as he slowly pulls out and slowly fills you deeply again, his heart skipping several beats as your walls flutter and flood. “Fuck…this pussy’s so good. You feel too good baby oh my god…”
You squeal in ecstasy, full of Steve’s thick veiny cock and it’s like fuckin heaven. It shouldn’t be this good…it’s so wrong but fuckin hell it feels so damn right it’s almost insane. You’ve never been this wet before, for any boyfriend or fuck buddy. Was this twisted relationship really doing it for you? Are you that fucked up?
“Oh baby…relax…it’s okay…” His soothing hand comforts you, brings you out of your distracting thoughts. His slow steady strokes are enough to make you go dumb as fuck, his hand softly caresses your slithering spine. “How good does it feel to finally have daddy’s dick hmm?”
“So fuckin good fuck!” You muffle your shrills and shouts into your trembling hands, doing your best to be stay quiet but the stretch burns just right, and he’s hitting the right spot in the pit of your stomach. “God…deeper…”
“Can’t baby…” he softly laughs, bites his lip at all the cream dripping out of you and down to his tight balls, “your hungry lil pussy’s already swallowing all daddy’s dick. Need me to go harder?”
“Please,” you weakly cry into your cupped hands, wearily shake your head. What are you even saying? Apparently all the right things because right then Steve picks up momentum, popping his flexed hips off your ass, skin lightly tapping with each firm stroke. He doesn’t want to go too hard, cause too much of a commotion, but hearing you beg for him to dig you out is so fuckin sexy. So he has to. Fuck it. Your bed rocks under y’all’s weight, but thankfully the frame doesn’t hit your wall. The mattress doesn’t creak or moan. He sighs out in relief with a whimsy smirk, aggressively gripping your hips. Blinking away the stars that fill his watery eyes, he huffs muted grunts, digs his nails into your bones. You’re so tight he’s going to lose it all over your rippling walls. You’re so wet he can’t stop fucking into you. He never wants to stop fucking this perfect little pussy.
“Harder!”
Steve breathlessly chuckles as he hard blinks down at your ass bouncing off his muscles, soothing a hand down your curved back. “Fuck baby…if I go any harder, swear I’ll cum…”
“I don’t care,” you whimper miserably as you pout back at him, begging him with big woeful eyes to, “use my pussy daddy. Fuck me Steve.”
You’re a completely different person under your stepdad’s thumb, and you aren’t too ashamed. Steve has total control over your body, and it feels so fuckin good you don’t even give a fuck anymore. Go hard, beat your shit up, you were suddenly dying for him to. His shiny baby blue eyes roll up into his skull as he croaks a pathetic whimper. That desperate look in your eye…it’s going to make him act the fuck out. His teeth sink deeper into his bottom lip, yanks you just a smidge closer by the hip, fisting the back of your dress to really bounce you up and down his length. Your hands slap over your dropped jaw. You both go numb from your head down to the very tip of your curled toes.
“Oh my god baby girl…wanna stay in your pussy all night long fuck…”
Your tiny noises and gasps for air are the only response as Steve fucks you as hard as he can without bringing attention to your bedroom. Your pussy gushes around his pounding girth and the sound is music to his burning ears. He isn’t going to make it all night let alone another ten minutes. The way your walls clamp all around him make Steve dizzy with pleasure. Meeting the back of your pussy with a muted thump drives him wild. Your muffled mewling makes his dick tingle with excitement. You’re so close he can feel it in the way your walls tighten, how your breath quickens and your legs violently shake. A tired laugh breaks from his hyperventilating chest. You look so fuckin perfect taking his dick like a good girl he wishes he could record a video or take a picture.
“Fuck baby girl…I need you to cum for daddy so I can cum for you. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and cum all over daddy’s dick?”
Steve didn’t even have to ask; you’re on the verge of combustion. Another firm pump or two and you were gonna be a goner. Afraid to breathe or open your loud mouth, you frantically nod against the bounce of the mattress, ready to pleasantly fade away. Out of nowhere, Steve fists the back of your hair and forces you up, forces you to arch your back so he can hit your pussy at a different deeper angle that makes you want to scream. Slapping a clammy hand on his forearm, you hang on for dear life.
“You like that? Huh? That’s the spot?” You grunt, claw his sweaty skin as resounding yes. “Then cum…cum for me baby girl come on…taking my dick like the good girl you are…yeaaaah yes that’s right. You’re my good girl…”
And that you did…erupting as hard and as quiet as you possibly can but you have little control over what comes out of you at the moment. His endless praises in your ear send an array of chills and goosebumps over every inch of your brown skin. Releasing every single sexual frustration your evil stepdad has ever put on you, you collapse a spasming shell to the bed, creaming and squirting so much around Steve’s quivering dick he has to hurry and pull out to shoot his load all over your ass and messy pussy lips. He can’t believe how much comes oozing out of him, squeezing and jerking every last drop onto your slit. His cum drips off your pussy and onto the bed. He heaves one last big breath, hides his tired limp dick back home in his boxer briefs and silently sits beside you on the bed.
“Atta girl…” Steve gratefully praises as he pets your empty head, lovingly smiling down at your lifeless body. “You feel better?”
“Yes daddy,” you sleepily crack, appreciating his affectionate touch. You can hardly keep your heavy eyelids open, absolutely worn out from the day. Your body aches but in the best way, can hardly move a muscle. Cant even get undressed and in bed you’re so done physically. Thankfully enough, he’s sweet enough to pull your disheveled dress off for you, get you under the covers properly so you can get a good night’s sleep. Just like a good dad should.
“Thank you baby girl. Thank you for taking care of your daddy.” He whispers against your cheek before he kisses you good night. “Sleep well…”
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supercap2319 · 12 days ago
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[Scene: Baxter Building – Lounge, Late Afternoon]
Johnny Storm is stretched out on the couch, scrolling through potential party venues. Y/N stands nearby, arms folded, clearly already annoyed. He watches Johnny with suspicion, sensing chaos on the horizon.
"Whatever you’re planning for Reed’s bachelor party… don’t invite any exotic women dancers. This is not Vegas. It’s Reed. He won't even have Jell-O shots at the party."
Johnny slowly looks up, a sly grin spreading across his face as he puts his phone down. "Who said anything about women dancers?" It hung in the air that Johnny wasn't thinking about having half-naked women at Reed's Bachelor party, but more of the masculine kind. "....Johnny. No."
"Johnny, yes! C'mon Y/N. It’s a celebration! We’re expanding Reed's horizons. It's just a tasteful, high-energy dance number. Think… cabaret meets super-soldier core strength."
Y/N rubs his temples, muttering something in Sokovian that definitely doesn't sound polite. "We're trying to get Reed hitched to your sister. Not explore Reed's lack of bisexuality. We’re not like you. We don't go flaunting it."
"Speaking of bisexuality. I invited Kuba to Reed's party." Johnny smirks.
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krirebr · 6 months ago
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Still Life 2
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Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader
Word Count: ~5.9k
Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...
Warnings: Heavy angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism (both external and internal), adult themes, referenced past non-con (including but not limited to somnophilia, partner-sharing, and drugging), fear of non-con, the slowest burn I've done yet. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by me this time!
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Here am I, the angst fairy, coming to really bum you out right before Valentine's Day! You're welcome? 😂 But seriously, friends, this is a rough one, so please read the warnings and take care of yourself!
A huge thanks to @bigtreefest who talked through so much of this with me, and @stargazingfangirl18 who helped me figure out the particulars of how alpha/omega dynamics work in this world (both for this part and going forward)!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!
As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
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You should’ve expected this. It was exactly what they’d always said would happen. That the government abhorred personal freedom and one day they would come to try to take everything the alphas had built for themselves. They wanted to seize all the land and the guns and capture the omegas to sell them off to the highest bidder or put them in a breeding program. 
But before, whenever the topic came up, whichever alpha was ranting against big government, be it Franco, Wilford, or your father, would inevitably turn to what would happen when the government pigs came to take what was theirs. The mindless troops would be met with guns and fire and pure alpha might. And they’d learn what happened when you messed with true alphas.
But that wasn’t what happened, was it? No. That wasn’t what led to you standing in the middle of your new alpha’s house. You should count yourself lucky, you supposed, that you hadn’t ended up in a breeding program—horror stories about those programs used to keep you up at night as a teenager. Stories whispered among the omegas, a reminder of how lucky you all were to be safe in the compound.
You hadn’t felt safe for a long time, but you weren’t sure you’d ever been in this much danger. You were completely on your own, given away to one of the biggest alphas you’d ever seen. Much bigger than Franco or Wilford. You’d never be able to fight him. He’d be able to hurt you even worse than either of them.
That was all you could think about as he showed you around his house. You didn’t know why he was bothering. You were sure you’d only need to know where his bedroom and the kitchen were. 
But still, he showed you the living room, the bathrooms, a room he called his home office. It was outside of that room that he stopped and turned to you. “I work from home,” he said, his voice a steady rumble. “So I’ll be around if you ever need me. I just ask that you knock first before coming in if I’m working. Okay?”
“Yes, Alpha,” you said by rote, but your mind was racing. He would always be here. You’d never get a break. There’d be no way to hide anything from him. Even Franco had left the house every day to go about his business, whatever that was. Sure, you still had Martha trying to know all of your secrets, but as long as you did the chores and kept the pups out of her way, you could deal with her. And as much as you hated Franco’s First Omega, she was still better than him.
At the thought of your Alpha, you swore the mark on your neck throbbed. Where was he now? Locked up? Dead?? Did it even matter? He wasn’t actually your alpha anymore. He used to talk sometimes about how before civilization when it was everyone out for themselves in the wilderness and omegas were scarce, stronger alphas would kill weaker ones and steal their omegas, biting over the existing mark. He’d laugh when he described the ravaged state of an omega’s neck bearing mark after mark until she was finally captured by an alpha strong enough to keep her. He always looked at you when he said that last part, at your mark. 
But he hadn’t been strong enough to keep you, had he? Not in the end. None of them had been.
The alpha had moved on down the hall and you scrambled to keep up with him. He stopped in front of a doorway, blocking your view inside. “This is my room,” he said.
You took a deep breath. Okay. It was time then. You could do this. You could be a good omega. You waited for him to move into the room so you could follow, but instead, he gestured to the room behind you. “And that one’s yours.” 
It took you a moment to understand what he’d said. Then you slowly turned around, confused, to find a small bedroom. Without thinking, you took a few tentative steps inside. It was bright, the sun streaming in through the curtains. There was a bed in the center of the room, covered in a dove gray quilt with flowers stitched into it. There was a collection of dusty rose pillows covering the top third, in all sorts of shapes and sizes. A plush-looking chair in a similar color was tucked into the corner. There was a big window set into the far wall. Sheer curtains softly billowed over it. Two bins were stacked beneath it. Against the perpendicular wall, sat a short dresser made of dark wood, and next to it a small closet. Across from that, you could see a little ensuite bathroom. All of it was much nicer than the little room with the thin cots that you used to share with Martha and Emmy when any one of you wasn’t in Franco’s bed. You couldn’t understand why he was giving it to you. Just you. As far as you could tell, there weren’t any other omegas here. It was much too nice for you on your own.
You turned back to him, hoping to find some clues there, but he had the same vaguely soft look on his face he’d had since you’d first walked into the room at the center you’d first been brought to. You didn’t like that look, didn’t know what to do with it. It’d drop soon anyway. You knew it would. The waiting was the worst part.
You dropped your gaze when he cleared his throat. “There’s nesting supplies in those two bins under the window. With or without alpha scent. So you can go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”
You blinked at the two bins he’d gestured to. You didn’t understand what he wanted you to do, but you nodded anyway with a quiet, “Yes, Alpha.”
He hovered in the doorway, not taking even one step into the room. “Are you still hungry?” he asked.
You shook your head. He’d stopped and gotten you a breakfast sandwich on the way to his house and had let you eat it in his truck. You’d eaten it quickly so he couldn’t change his mind, extremely careful not to get any crumbs on his upholstery. 
He sighed and you were gripped by panic that you may have disappointed him. You had no idea how you might have done that but this wouldn’t be the first time that an alpha’s expectations had been unknowable to you. But he didn’t say anything about it or make any move to punish you. You kept a wary eye on him anyway.
“Well,” he said, taking a step back into the hallway. “I have some calls to make and a little work to do. I know you’ve had a long night, so I’ll let you rest for a bit. But please come get me if you need anything.” 
“Yes, Alpha,” you whispered, knowing for a fact that you would do absolutely everything you could not to disturb him. An omega’s job was to make her alpha’s life easier, to bring him pleasure. Omegas didn’t need things. They should never be that selfish. You would show this alpha how good you could be. To protect yourself, you’d do whatever you could.
He looked at you, a furrow between his brows, then just nodded and walked down the hall. You waited for a moment to make sure he didn’t come back. When he didn’t, you carefully made your way around the room. You placed your knapsack on the chair in the corner and took out the only other dress you’d managed to grab on your way out of Franco’s house to hang up in the closet. It looked pathetic, hanging by itself. You took off your shoes and placed them underneath it. Finally, you took the little friendship bracelet out of it’s hiding place at the bottom of the bag. You reverently set it on the dresser, the little ballerina charm Grace had managed to sneak into the house for you hanging off the wood. 
You turned towards the two bins against the wall. The alpha clearly wanted you to do something with them but you had no idea what. You gingerly opened the first bin and were immediately hit by the strong scent of cedar and leather and alpha, the same scent that had engulfed you in his truck and subtly permeated this house. But this bin was like being slapped in the face with it. You couldn’t breathe. You closed it as fast as you could. You were even more cautious as you opened the second bin, but you weren’t struck by any strong scents as you removed the lid that time. You looked inside to find a collection of blankets and pillows. You carefully touched one to find the softest blanket you’d ever felt. Without thinking, you brought it out of the box and buried your face in it, as tears pricked at your eyes. You didn't want to cry anymore. It wouldn't change anything. 
You pulled the blanket after you as you climbed onto the bed. You’d been awake for most of the last twenty-four hours and you could finally feel the adrenaline leeching out of you. The intense fear was still there, but it could no longer overpower your extreme exhaustion. You wrapped the blanket around yourself and quickly fell asleep.
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You weren’t sure what exactly had woken you up, but your heart was already racing. Nightmares you couldn’t remember but could still feel were wrapped around you. You sat up and tried to force yourself to breathe. You weren’t in the compound anymore. You never would be again. You wished that could be a comfort to you, but now you were surrounded by unknown threats and dangers. You shouldn’t be so upset. This was just what happened to omegas. You’d been suddenly uprooted from your home before, dropped somewhere you didn’t know anything or anyone. It’d probably happen again. Especially if you didn’t do everything you could to please this alpha.
You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself. It was one of the softest things you’d ever felt. You almost felt safe in this little cocoon you’d made yourself. Then you saw movement in the open doorway.
The alpha stood there, knocking softly on the door, something tucked under one arm. “Hey, I thought you might be awake,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard an alpha speak before. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, Alpha,” you said immediately, even as you felt that fear rising in your chest again. You didn’t know why he was asking.
He stopped and looked at you carefully, which made you shrink down as much as you could. He sighed with a small grimace. “On second thought, how ‘bout you come join me in the living room? Whenever you’re ready.” 
He took off down the hall, and, after you’d carefully put the blanket away, you followed him. He stood in the middle of the cozy room. “Sit wherever you’d like,” he said. 
You looked at the two plush couches and the recliner with panic. Was this a test? Was there a right answer? Where would he sit? You never would have sat before Franco. That would have gotten you in so much trouble. Was this alpha trying to trick you?
After a few moments, he softly called your name. “You can sit on that couch, if you want,” he said, gesturing to the larger of the two sofas. You let out a sigh of relief as you sat where he pointed. He sat on the other side of the same couch, giving you plenty of space, then took out what he’d been holding under his arm, revealing it to be a laptop, like Franco Jr used to have. He opened it and held it out to you. “You need more clothes. We have a stipend from the Center to get you the things you need so don't worry about the cost. Do you know how online shopping works?” You just sort of shrugged unsure of what the right answer was. You knew how to use a computer, but Franco had made sure none of his omegas ever had any access to his money, as was his right as the Alpha. “That’s fine,” he said, then showed you the buttons you needed to press to make an order. Then, inconceivably, he passed the computer over to you. “Pick out whatever you like, then if it’s all available at a local store, we’ll hopefully be able to get it delivered by tonight.” Then he sat back, giving you space.
You looked at the webpage in front of you, filled with dozens of pictures of models in different pieces of clothing. The title at the top of the page said Omega Loungewear, but as you scrolled down through the pictures, you couldn’t understand why. None of this was appropriate for omegas. There were leggings and shorts, t-shirts and tank tops, big baggy sweaters, something called bralettes that you couldn’t believe they were just showing pictures of right out in the open. There were some cotton dresses that might be ok, depending on what the alpha wanted, but he hadn’t told you. He wanted you to know. He wanted you to be good. To prove it. And everything was available in different colors and patterns and you didn’t know how many you were supposed to pick out or what he wanted or��� 
You hadn’t realized your breathing had picked up until he was kneeling in front of you. “Hey,” he said very gently, his hands held out in front of him but not touching you, “hey, it’s okay. You’re alright. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”
You gulped. You were being a stupid omega. This was why omegas shouldn’t make decisions. You lifted the laptop up and passed it back to him. “I don’t know, Alpha,” you said very quietly, nodding to the computer. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no need for apologies, it’s totally fine.” He stopped to think, then with a grimace and a sigh, “Would you like me to pick out some things for you and order them?”
You slumped in relief. He’d know what was okay for you to get. You wouldn’t have to guess. “Yes, Alpha. Thank you, Alpha.”
“That’s another–” he shook his head sadly. “You don’t– You don’t need to address me as alpha. You can call me Curtis, or, or anything. You can call me whatever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
That was definitely a trick. Calling him anything other than Alpha was 100% not allowed. You had the marks on your body to prove it. Omegas might have been stupid, but you were smart for your kind and you wouldn’t fall for this just to be punished. After everything that had happened, you had more self-preservation than that.
“Yes, Alpha,” you said, your eyes on the ground. 
He let out another heavy sigh. “Right,” he said, as he stood up. “I had lunch while you were sleeping, but I set some aside for you. Let me go get it, And then we can” he looked around, flaring his arms to the side, “I don’t know. Watch TV, I guess?”
“Yes, Alpha,” you said, quietly, still not looking at him.
He sighed again. This alpha sighed a lot. He was disappointed in you. He just stood there for a long moment. You could feel him looking at you. You sank back into the couch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. There was another sigh, then, “I’ll be right back.” He turned on the TV as he left the room, leaving the remote within your reach, but you didn’t dare touch it. Another trap.
Franco had had a big TV. He watched a lot of sports and news shows hosted by strong alpha men that talked about how the government was trying to strip alphas of their rightful power. Sometimes there were pretty blonde beta and omega women there to say the same thing. There were other news channels too, but they were all secretly owned by the government and only told lies. 
When Franco was gone, Martha used to sneak into the living room to watch her stories while you and Emmy did chores or took the younger pups outside. You never joined her; she and Emmy would just yell at you for being lazy if you tried. 
So, now, you did your best to ignore whatever was playing until a voice caught your attention. “On tonight’s Eyewitness News at 5, government agencies raid an alpha supremacist group calling themselves The Snowpiercer Collective–” You felt your heartrate pick up. On the screen were images of the compound—the storage barns, the meeting hall, Wilford’s house. Then video of the people in their tactical gear with initials you didn’t understand on their backs holding guns and–
You weren’t sure what had woken you up first, the dogs barking or the sound of guns being fired. Emmy was standing over you, her eyes wide with panic, while Martha screamed behind her for both of you to get your lazy asses moving and get the pups. You didn’t know what was going on. None of you had been in Franco’s bed that night, which meant your little room was full and you’d had to sleep on the floor while the other two claimed the cots. You were stiff and slow and confused as you tried to get moving, still half-asleep. As you cut through the living room to get to the pups’ rooms—you could hear the youngest ones sobbing—you saw that it was still pitch black out, but then the sky would briefly light up with a loud crack of whatever was being fired much too close to your home for comfort. What was happening? Who was there? Where was Franco? He’d left the night before to go play poker with some of the other alphas, so more likely than not, he’d passed out somewhere in the compound before he’d been able to drunkenly stumble home. It’d been a relief that night, but now it meant that you were all completely defenseless from whoever was attacking you.
The three of you gathered the children and tried to herd them out the back door, toward the entrance to the bunker that was about twenty feet behind the house. But as soon as you opened the door, you were met with a full SWAT team and everyone was screaming and their guns were pointed at you and–
“Shit!”
The alpha’s voice brought you back to the present. You were on the floor. You were in your new alpha’s house and you were on the floor. The TV was off and he was crouched in front of you, the remote still in his hand. Your face was wet, tears streaming down your cheeks. You weren’t in the compound anymore, but that didn’t make you feel any safer. He was trying to talk to you, saying something, his tone gentle, but you couldn’t process his words. You were scared and you were tired. And you knew it was bad, you knew it wasn’t what you should do, but you were out of energy and you couldn’t stop yourself from curling up into a ball on the floor and finally sobbing like you’d wanted to since you’d been put into the back of that SWAT van.
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You weren’t sure if you woke up, so much as just came to. There was a blanket draped over you—it’d been on the couch, maybe—and a pillow pushed under your head. The alpha must have done it, but you couldn’t imagine him taking such care with you. You could hear the murmurs of a one-sided conversation coming from the other room. 
You slowly sat up. Your eyes hurt and your mouth was dry. You were making a very bad impression on your new alpha. What must he think of you? You would have to work very hard over the next few days to show him that you did actually know how to be a good omega. You would do better.
The alpha took that moment to appear at the entrance to the living room. He held a phone to his ear. “I gotta go, Tanya. I’ll talk to you soon.” He put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he took a few steps into the room, then stopped. He stared at you and you dropped your gaze to the floor. You did your very best to keep your breaths even. It was always the worst with Franco when you couldn’t predict him, and you had no idea what this alpha would do.
He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. Before you were able to figure out the best answer to that question, he shook his head. “No, that’s– that’s a stupid question, I know.” He crouched down so he was closer to your level while still several feet away. “Look, I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but I want to help you, ok? However I can, I’m here to help you.”
Your mind was racing. Why would he say that? To trick you, a little voice inside you said. That had to be it. Wilford had done that too. Pretended to be friendly and kind and helpful. Until he stopped pretending and you learned who he really was. You shivered at the memory of him. You’d learned your lesson. You wouldn’t be surprised again.
He stayed like that for a few moments, while you kept your head down and didn’t move. Finally he stood up. “I ordered some food. It should be here soon. And your clothes came. So if you want, you could put them away while we wait, and then join me in the kitchen for dinner?”
“Yes, Alpha,” you said quietly as you made yourself stand up. He followed suit and walked into the kitchen where he picked up two canvas bags with the same logo on them and handed them to you. You peered inside. You couldn’t see the shape of the clothes yet, but you could tell there were many items, all in soft pastel colors. 
“I had to make some guesses on sizing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “And, uh, well. It looks like the clothes you currently have maybe don’t fit you quite right? So. So these might feel different.”
You ducked your head. The dress you were wearing had been Martha’s. Your shoes had been Emmy’s. They pinched your toes. Being third omega meant having to make do with what you were given. Even as a kid, everything you’d had had belonged to your older sisters first. You didn’t think you’d ever been the first person to wear something.
You clutched the bags to your chest and whispered, “Thank you, Alpha,” before hurrying down the hall to the bedroom you’d been given. You checked each item as you put it away. Leggings, t-shirts, sweaters, shorts, all made from some of the softest material you’d ever felt. He wouldn’t have gone so far as to spend actual money if it was just a trick or a test, would he? You’d done what you were supposed to, you’d let him choose, so even though these weren’t the clothes you were used to, it’d be okay to wear them, wouldn’t it? You worried your bottom lip. He’d picked them out. This was what he wanted.
At the sound of the doorbell, you hurried back out and arrived in the kitchen as he approached the small table with a short stack of flat, square boxes. “I hope pizza’s okay,” he said. “I got a couple different kinds, so hopefully there’s something you like.”
You didn’t respond. You were good at taking what was given to you. You stood next to the table and waited as he arranged the boxes and put a plate in front of each of you. You didn’t sit down until he did. He opened one of the boxes and gestured to its contents. “Help yourself,” he said. You kept your hands in your lap until he placed a slice on his own plate. Then you grabbed one from the same box. Once he took a bite, you started eating. It was so good. Much better than the frozen pizzas you would occasionally have at the compound. And as soon as you started eating, you realized you were starving. You hadn’t really had lunch, distracted by your ridiculous freakout. You inhaled your first slice, then stared at the box, wondering if it was worth the risk to try to take more. The alpha must have seen you looking because he took two more pieces from the box and placed them on your plate. “Have as much as you want,” he said. “There’s plenty to go around.” 
After a few more minutes of eating in silence, the alpha stood up abruptly, the back legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor. You jumped in your seat and tried to make yourself small as he briefly loomed over you. 
He moved to the counter and came right back with the little cardboard box the Omega at the center had tried to give you. You shrank back as he held it out to you. “I almost forgot,” he said, “here are the suppressants if you want to start taking them tonight.”
You froze. You tried to force your hand to take the pills from him, but your limbs refused to move. You remembered the first time you'd been sent to Wilford, the High Alpha, the little white pill he'd given you. “To help,” he'd said. But it'd just made you feel tired, loose, disconnected from your body. Defenseless when he'd– Or other times, different pills, different colors and shapes, that'd made you feel like you were going into heat even though it wasn't time yet. That'd made you need things you didn't actually want. And the way Wilford had smiled at you and– 
Your new alpha was looking at you curiously, the pack of pills still in his hand, a mask of concern on his face. You needed to take it. An alpha was giving you something. You should take it. You should take it. You should take it. “What do they do?” you blurted out without meaning to. Oh god. You were in so much trouble. 
All he did at first was blink at you. “What do suppressants do?” he repeated back to you, looking slightly surprised. He withdrew his hand and sat down. “They stop your heats, is the biggest thing, for however long you take them.”
Why– Your heats belonged to your alpha. The whole point of them, of you, was to give your alpha pleasure. And pups. Why would he offer this to you? “You want me to take them?” you whispered.
“I–” He hummed and scratched his beard. “I want you to do whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” 
You looked at him as he made his face go completely blank. It was clearly another test and you weren't sure what the right answer was. Not just taking whatever pills he gave you was obviously bad. But if you had, you would have unknowingly denied him access to your heats, which was unforgivable. It was like you were being set up to fail. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to punish you. Franco would sometimes do that too. You felt the flare of anger igniting in the pit of your stomach, but you took a deep breath to snuff it out. That would only get you in more trouble. You decided to commit to hopefully what was the lesser disobedience. “No, thank you, Alpha.”
He didn’t react for a moment and you were terrified you’d made the wrong choice. But his scent stayed mostly neutral and when he finally spoke, he just said, “Ok. That’s fine. But if you change your mind later, these will be here. And we can always talk about it again.”
You shook your head. You wouldn’t do that. You were good.
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The alpha went to bed right after dinner, saying he was tired from having to wake up early to get you. You’d tried to apologize, but he looked at you funny, so you stopped.
Once he’d left you, you familiarized yourself with his kitchen, then did a thorough wipe down of the kitchen table, and swept underneath it.
When that was done, you retreated to the room he’d given you. There’d been some toiletries mixed in with the clothes he got for you, so you went into the little en suite and took a shower. It felt incredible, not having anyone banging on the door to get in next, or having to worry about using all of the hot water. For everything that was bad and scary about this situation, the chance at being a First Omega wasn’t one of them. Sure, you’d be the sole focus of your alpha’s attention, at least until he got another one, but it came with its perks too.
After your shower, you put on some of the new clothes. They were soft and cozy, cozier than anything you’d ever worn before. Then you climbed into the bed. You’d been so exhausted that morning that you hadn’t noticed much about it, but now, you felt like you were lying on a cloud. And it was so big, just as big as Franco’s bed. You’d be able to really stretch out in it when you were alone.
But would you be alone tonight? You got off the bed to peek out of the room to see that the alpha’s door was closed. You thought about closing your door, there was a lock on it, but if he really wanted to come in, all it would do was slow him down. And get you in trouble in the process. You closed it about three-fourths of the way. That wouldn’t technically be breaking any rules.
Not that you really knew what the rules were. Well, you knew the rules all omegas knew, but every alpha had their own as well. Your father did. Franco did. Wilford certainly had on the nights you had to be with him. But this alpha hadn’t bothered to tell you his yet. Another way to trick you into disobeying him.
You curled up on the bed, wrapping the soft blanket from the bin around yourself. You’d slept a lot of the day. Hopefully, that meant you wouldn’t need to sleep through the night. You wanted to be ready, when the alpha inevitably came for you. You wouldn’t fight him. The bite mark on your neck was proof enough that that wouldn’t do any good. But you just… you hated waking up in the middle of it. You’d rather know what was happening.
You turned over onto your side, trying to get comfortable, as you felt tears welling in your eyes. Again. If Martha were here, she’d yell at you for being a stupid child. You wondered where she’d ended up. Neither she nor Emmy had been shoved into the same van as you. Were they together? What had happened to their pups? You’d probably never see any of them ever again. You didn’t know what it said about you that you didn’t feel much of anything at that thought. Nothing good, probably.
You’d never see Franco again either. A good omega would feel grief at that. A good omega would miss him. Try as hard as you might, maybe you’d never been a very good omega. Maybe that’s how you’d ended up where you were.
You turned over again. You couldn’t get comfortable. This bed was too soft. You got up with a grumble, grabbing the blanket and one of the pillows and dragging them to the corner of the room. You were good at making yourself comfortable on the floor. That would be better. If he got upset that you weren’t waiting for him in bed, then at least you’d learn what his punishments were like.
You huddled into the wall and pulled the blanket tight around yourself, settling in to wait.
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You woke with a start. You looked around, trying to get your bearings. You were in that little bedroom. The sun was streaming in through the curtains. Oh god, you’d fallen asleep! You hadn’t meant to do that. As you started to panic, you realized you were still curled up in the corner. Your clothes were still on. The door was exactly how you’d left it. He hadn’t come to take you in the night. You were filled with a strange mix of intense relief and something that felt a lot like dejection. Why hadn’t he come? It didn’t make any sense.
 You heard the clinking of dishware coming from another part of the house just as the scent of breakfast wafted in. Your head shot up, confused. Who was making it? Was there an omega here after all?
You got up and quickly got dressed in another pair of leggings and one of the big, slouchy sweaters. You followed the noise to the kitchen and came to a sudden halt in the doorway. The alpha was making pancakes. You had never seen an alpha cook, not even once, in your entire life. Alphas didn’t cook. That was omegas’ work. Was this his way of rubbing your face in the fact that you were already falling down on the job? Your first morning here and you’d already neglected your duties to the point that he had to cook for himself?
He turned around when he realized you were there and you braced yourself for whatever was coming. But instead of yelling at you, a wide smile overtook his face. “Hey, good morning! I hope you slept okay.” You couldn’t do much other than blink at him, but his smile didn’t falter. “Go ahead and sit,” he said, gesturing to the table. “This’ll be done in just a couple minutes.”
“I can finish it, Alpha” you tried, your voice timid.
He immediately shook his head. “No, no. You’re a guest. Sit down. It’s almost done.”
You did as he said and sat, not taking your eyes off him. This was the strangest alpha you’d ever met. You didn’t understand anything about him. How could you predict him when you didn’t understand him?
True to his word, it was just a few minutes later that he was setting a plate in front of you, along with some syrup. You gingerly poured it over your pancakes, as he sat across from you and did the same. As you carefully cut a small bite for yourself, you felt him watching you, even though he acted like he wasn’t. You took a bite and your eyes fluttered closed. These were the best pancakes you’d ever tasted. Much better than Emmy’s. Much better than yours. 
A small “mmm” escaped your lips. You opened your eyes, embarrassed, to find him still grinning at you. “That’s the first thing you should know about me,” he said, “I make really good pancakes.”
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g4yforethan · 1 year ago
Text
LOST IN YOU
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pairing: steve rogers x bucky barnes x male!reader
summary: request from a while ago
warnings: cursing, smut, bottom!reader, praise k!nk
a/n: i actually have an obsession with chris evans atp it’s not even funny 🫡
you had gotten out of the shower and only had on your towel when a knock on your bedroom door startled you. “umm i’m changing right now!” you said hoping the person on the other side would understand. “aww come on y/n it’s just me and bucky! we have a lil surprise for you!” you recognized that voice anywhere. it was steve rogers, your muscular and extremely attractive friend who you wished was more than your friend. “yeah y/n we need your opinion on something.” you were curious by what bucky said and quickly opened the door. you were shocked to see both steve and bucky shirtless and only in their underwear. “oh my god are you guys insane?! what if nat or tony sees you?” they both laugh and enter your room while bucky locks the door.
“haha they’re all on a research mission right now. it’s just the three of us for now.” steve said with a grin on his face as both him and bucky sat next to you on the bed. “well what did you want my opinion for?” they both looked at each other with mischievous looks. “you see i don’t know about this underwear. i mean does it look good on me?” steve turned as you noticed his huge bugle and muscular ass inches away from you. “yes steve it looks amazing on you.” you try not to stare too long as you felt yourself slowly getting a boner. “okay my turn now. what do you think y/n? take all the time you want.” you also noticed his massive bulge poking out. “it looks fantastic on both of you truly.” you said as your face turned red.
“oh yeah? well would it look better like this?” steve pulls down his underwear and throws them on the ground. “oh yeah way better steve. my turn now.” bucky in return pulls down his underwear as well. you were in shock and thought you must be imagining. “now y/n it’s your turn.” steve said as he placed his hand on your chin and bucky massaged your shoulder. you got up and removed your towel as the both of them looked down excited to see you were ready. the three of you got into bed as steve and bucky quickly attacked your lips and neck. they both took turns devouring your lips while their hands moved all over your body. you moaned as steve but your lip as bucky massaged your cock. “oh yeah we’re gonna treat you just right y/n.” bucky said as he pushed you on top of him.
you kissed his chest and went down to his cock and began sucking on his hard and thick cock. all while steve watched stroking his dick and begging for your warm throat. “you know what to do cap.” bucky said to steve as steve quickly got behind you and began licking your hole. you moaned as steve teased your hole with his finger while bucky continued stuffing his cock down your throat. "it's gonna hurt a little baby but just trust me." steve whispered in your ear before you felt you felt a tight pressure on your hole. he entered your hole slowly and placed his hands on your lower back while you continued making out with buckys cock. as steve picked up the pace, you moaned in pleasure while bucky shoved his cock down your throat making you gag.
"fuck yeah y/n. hey steve, how about we switch?" bucky said as he felt your hole with his finger. steve agreed as bucky positioned you with your legs on his shoulders and steve behind you slapping your face with his cock. bucky entered your hole with ease and quickly began pounding it. steve followed as he rammed his cock up and down your throat. "fuck baby you're suck a fucking slut." steve said as he placed his hands on your face and continued using your throat. "ugh fuck y/n i think i'm gonna cum first." bucky said as you felt your hole fill with his warm and thick cum. bucky licked your leaking hole and kissed you on the lips before laying down. "ugh fuck your hole felt good. captain, he's all yours." steve smiled before laying on top of you and slowly inserting his cock inside you. you moaned as steve went at a fast pace and began to suck on your neck and chest.
"haha that's right cap fuck his hole." bucky said as he watched steve ram his thick cock inside you. your moans grew louder and louder so steve put his finger inside your mouth. "shush baby that's right. suck on my finger." you sucked on his finger while you felt his sweat come onto you. "ughh fuck y/n. fuck im gonna cum." you felt that same warm sensation of his cum fill your insides as steve laid back and let out a big exhale. "hey come on steve we can't just leave y/n hanging. it's not like he's our sex toy. haha come here baby boy." bucky lifted your legs and began licking your hole. you started stroking your cock as steve began playing with your nipples and kissing them. "ugh fuck that feels so good." you said as bucky kissed your hole. "lemme help you there y/n." steve said as he removed your hand and filled his mouth with your cock. "just ram it in there." he said as you shoved your cock down steve’s throat.
“ugh fuck i’m gonna cum.” you said as an overwhelming sense of pleasure ran through your body. “cum in my mouth baby.” steve said as you filled his mouth with your cum. you exhaled and laid between them. “fuck you guys. we can’t tell anyone about this.” you said as you worried about the avengers finding out. “don’t worry about a thing y/n. this will just be our little secret.” bucky said as he played with your hair and steve held his arm around your body. “now lay back and get some rest. you did a good job tonight baby boy.” steve said as you slowly closed your eyes and drifted to sleep.
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bigtreefest · 6 months ago
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Tangled Up
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Pairing: Andy Barber x Soft!Dark Reader
Summary: Andy has no idea how he’s found himself so quickly tangled up in your web. And your basement…
Word count: 2,756
Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, dark themes including but not limited to kidnapping and isolation, restraints and interrogation, noncon/dubcon, emotional manipulation and humiliation, forced and semi- dom/sub dynamics, kissing, smut, grinding and pussyjob, p in v unprotected sex, cum tasting, mentions of starvation, swears
A/N: I’m SO EXCITED for you all to read this! This reader is a certified feral loony and such a blast to think about. Made in collaboration with @brandycranby
Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!
Dividers by @ghoulbloggerrr
AU Masterlist | Bigtreefest Masterlist | Brandycranby Masterlist
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Andy roused from a restless slumber fully confused and disoriented. His head was pounding, eyes crusty, hair matted to his forehead likely from a stress dream he couldn’t remember now, despite the way the cortisol still flowed through his bloodstream. Everything around him was unfamiliar, yet he’d memorized the barren surroundings in the couple days he’d been trapped in this basement. At least he thought it’d been a couple days. Time seemed irrelevant now.
He never thought it would happen so quickly, having been solitary for so much of his life. Before, being alone meant peace, but since the divorce, and a couple days with such few creature comforts, he realized that wasn’t the case.
He moved to run a hand over his face in thought, in an attempt to clear off his brow so he could focus a little better, but winced from the pull at his tender wrist. That’s right, the man with the goatee tied him up pretty tight. His back was slightly arched, shoulders digging in uncomfortably to the backrest of what he assumed to be a dining chair. His lower half was nearly numb from the worn cushion underneath him, tailbone growing sore. He attempted to adjust, just to remember his ankles were restrained, too which yanked him back down to the hard wood.
The hiss Andy let out mixed with the vague sounds of footsteps upstairs. It just barely made it through the soundproof walls, but was easily picked up through the deafening silence. That must’ve been what had woken him, they were coming. You were coming.
His body went stiff as a board at that, no longer groggy, but fully at attention. This would be the time to fight back. Maybe he could finally convince you to return him to his bachelor pad, to his life.
Andy sat in anxious anticipation. In seconds that felt like hours with the way his heart was in his throat, the door at the top of the steps cracked open, golden hour sunlight bouncing off of the drywall and towards his eyes through the double glass doors of his cell, the first non-fluorescent glow to hit him in eons. Andy had never been one to stop and admire the sunset, except maybe on vacations with Laurie, but now, he’d give anything for a glimpse of the sky. Because that would mean freedom. Freedom from this place that he still couldn’t quite understand that he found himself. It was gone too soon as the door clicked shut.
He watched as your bare feet padded down the steps, tantalizingly slow, revealing bare legs under a short, silk robe. Warm food steamed in a low-brimmed bowl that balanced on your hand, the other holding a glass of water with a straw. Your eyes were focused on the next step until you reached the bottom, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It was so beautiful, so blue, but so full of turmoil. You smiled, seeing him in all of his glory, finally in your house.
Your slow stalk towards him was diverted to the basement bathroom to grab a washcloth, before you resumed your walk to the airlock. As you made your way through the double doors, a smirk broadened your lips at the sight of Andy tied up in the center of the room. Unable to do anything but be at your mercy. You set the bowl of food and glass of water down beside his chair and sat sideways on his lap, placing a gentle hand on his cheek as your eyes roved over his face, taking stock of every detail. At your touch, Andy turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut, causing your face to scrunch in disappointment.
“Andy, honey, let me clean you up.”
He moved just barely enough to shake his head as you lifted your other hand to his face, firmly guiding him to look towards you once more. He opened his eyes again to be met with a soft look.
“That’s better, now, isn’t it?”
You began to wipe off his eyes and forehead, doing your best to clean him up. Andy’s breath picked up as his lips parted.
“I want to go home.”
Your hands froze, just about to tousle his hair, cupping his beard instead. As your eyes bored into his, all Andy saw was deep, deranged darkness behind them.
“You are home, silly. How many times do I have to tell you that? I’m going to take such good care of you, but you just have to let me. The more you learn about how to be a good husband, the more freedoms I’ll allow you, hm? Now, how about some dinner?”
Andy’s eyebrows were furrowed in anger, disgust as he stared you down, pulling at his restraints until he realized it was better to avoid the rope burn that was developing. But you didn’t seem to be bothered by that at all, setting down the washcloth and swapping it for the bowl of food, no longer steaming, but still warm. He could tell it by the way the scent surrounded him, and he hated that he thought it actually smelled good.
As you resettled in his lap, Andy found himself looking in the bowl, seeing gravy, speckled with bright orange carrots and something green, over rice.
You nestled in close, putting together a spoonful of the food and clocking his curiosity.
“It’s beef stew. Curtis is nearly famous for it. So savory, so delicious, and packed with love for this very special Valentine’s occasion. It’s a real treat.”
He was confused by your evident excitement with the dish. Were you trying to sell this to him? Poison him? What was the point? Who was Curtis? And it was already Valentine’s Day? Where had the time gone?
You held a bite up to his mouth, eyes sparkling, but your eyebrows gathered when you were met with sealed lips.
“Open up, Andy. It’s good. You’ve got to eat. Don’t want those plush swimmer’s muscles wasting away. That would be a shame!”
The tone of your voice was almost as shiny as the lipgloss you wore, making Andy’s stomach turn more. You attempted to make another bite, a smaller one of just rice, and put it to his lips again.
“C’mon. Just a little. He worked so hard on it!”
Andy opened his mouth and scraped the grains off the spoon with his teeth, chewing slowly and swallowing them down. Carbs were good, maybe that could fuel him for a few more days like this, and keep him in your good graces. Your face softened in satisfaction to the way he acquiesced and you held up another spoonful, which he promptly refused. You shrugged and set the bowl down, this time straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck when you came back.
Your tone was congratulatory, yet nonchalant, “One bite! That’s progress. I’m sure I’ll have you eating out of my hand soon enough.”
Andy looked up at the ceiling. Anywhere but at you and the way your silk robe had parted where your legs had spread, teasing what little fabric lied underneath.
A grumble emerged from his lips. A mere mumble you were hoping you didn’t catch correctly, as you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“What was that?”
He directed his face towards you again, eyes sharp as his nose and jawline, a killing look almost.
“You’re sick.”
You threw your head back with a light laugh.
“Honey, I’m nothing of the sort. I just know what’s best for you, and that’s being here, with me.”
He shook his head, moving to gesture to the nearly empty room, only to be reminded of his restraints again.
“This? This….empty torture chamber!? This is what’s best for me? There’s nothing down here! It’s just some shitty IKEA rug over a concrete floor, blank walls, a mattress, and a prison bathroom!”
Your face flashed a hint of anger at his defiance before you steeled yourself quickly, replacing it with a look of concern.
“Well, there’s not much down here because I don’t want you hurting yourself, Andy pandy. You don’t know what’s best yet, I’m taking care of you. Once you learn how to behave, there’s no need for these precautions. You can have all sorts of trinkets and decorations eventually. And if you’re really good, maybe you can come upstairs and stay in bed with me.”
His jaw ticked at that. This wasn’t his home.
“I have a house. It has everything I need. People are looking for me! I’m sure it won’t be long.”
You playfully rolled your eyes and your head dropped to your chest, a low, dry laugh emanating from your throat before you shook your head and met his eyes that were full of faltering conviction.
“Andrew, no need to lie to me. We can be honest with each other.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet and dripping with feigned sympathy. “I know you live in a sad, lonely apartment. And that your name as Assistant District Attorney doesn’t get you as far as it once did. Especially with the way you fumbled into success on your last case.”
His nostrils flared with ire. He opened his mouth to respond, deny, but was met with your shushing finger.
“Let me finish. A little birdie told me that you’re going to be let go any day now, especially with the several days you haven’t shown up, without a single call! And then what are you to do? Wither in your bachelor pad, squandering your nice severance payments? It’s not like Laurie would jump to comfort you. But I would. So, be a good boy, and let me take it from here.”
Andy shuddered as you shuffled closer to him, his tight lips denying the kiss you pressed to them.
“Still gonna be difficult? We can move to dessert. I know you hardly had any dinner, but let me give you a taste of how sweet things could be for you, old man. Just relax and sit back.”
Behind his back, Andy’s hands gathered into fists and his teeth clenched together. He had a feeling what your agenda was, and it was solidified by what he saw as you shrugged the pink robe off of your shoulders. Underneath it lied a white, lacy teddy, adorned with small pink hearts all over. So darling and sweet, and innocent. It was nauseating, the image coming together in front of him. The honey that poured from your mouth and hugged the curves of your body, soured by your true intentions that bubbled below the surface.
You tentatively ground your hips in a circle over the dress slacks that he still wore, pleased as he struggled to contain a moan. No matter how much Andy tried to deny it, his body was betraying him, blood rushing south, gaze sucked into the sight of your breasts being pushed up near his face by the flimsy lace.
Your pleased expression couldn’t be hidden either as you continued to hump against him, your hands moving to rub up and down his chest through his dress shirt which was no longer pristine and pressed. As you smoothed some of the wrinkles, you felt the broad expanse of what was underneath.
With a simmering eagerness, you began to undo the buttons painstakingly slow, revealing his faded undershirt. Your fingertips gently, teasingly grazed over the ridges of his pecs, thumbs flicking his nipples, gracing your ears with a low growl from his throat. You bit your bottom lip in excitement at what you were able to pull from him already, leaning in to press a soft, rewarding kiss to the straining muscles of his neck. He really was so beautiful like this, so needy already.
His dick was pressing against your thigh almost insistently with every fluid motion you were making to brush over it, mirroring the growing impatience you felt rising within your belly. Without wasting another second, you scooted back to undo the zipper of Andy’s dress pants and reached your hand in, his cock immediately standing at attention, precum already leaking from the angry red tip.
You swiped it up with your finger and sucked it off between your lips, taking pride in the way Andy’s breaths continued to pick up.
Genuine elation was filling you at that. “Mmm, tastes so good. Gonna give me more?”
His pupils went wide and dark, nearly as much as yours. You could tell his protests were wavering, despite the wispy denial spilling past his lips.
“N-no. Stop. I-I don’t want this.”
Your hand lowered again to cup his cock against the lace that covered your pussy, hips grinding up and down his length. The pressure and pleasure was almost dizzying with how you could feel the ridge of the head nudge your clit. The thin lace was quickly becoming soaked.
As you looked up at Andy, his face was turned downward and to the side again, so your brought your hand up to his hold his jaw, lovingly brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You could tell he was biting the inside of his mouth to refrain from making any more noise, and you simply couldn’t have that.
You placed your forehead against his, speaking in the hot and humid air.
“I don’t believe you. I think you want more.”
You reached your fingertips under the gusset and pulled it to the side, revealing your bare, slick pussy, and pressed in closer, ground faster, watching as his cock was hugged between the lips. When your eyes flickered up to his again, his long eyelashes were brushing against his cheeks, gaze glued to the slick sight before him. It was the source of both his pleasure and his torture, and he evidently couldn’t get enough from the way his hips bucked into yours.
A wry grin graced your face as you took him in. A blush crept up his neck, and painted the tips of his ears. It was everything you wanted to see, but still not enough. You needed him to fully submit. To give in to just the beginning of the pleasure you knew you could give him. In your bounces over his lap, you inched yourself higher, his tip catching your entrance and slipping in with a delicious stretch, finally drawing a moan from the grumpy, stoic man.
It was all too much, all at once. The wet, tight warmth surrounding was him better than anything he’d felt in years. It only took a couple more bounces of your ass against his thighs, slaps muffled by his dress pants, for you to feel his dick twitch. You pulled him out just in time for his thick spend to coat your lower torsos, painting the innocent white material in sin. Andy whimpered, his orgasm torn from his grasp as you rubbed your clit to tip over the edge with him, the sight and sounds driving you towards bliss.
Drained to near exhaustion, he flopped forward as far as the restraints would allow him, straining every part of his body as it jerked and tensed beyond his will. His chest heaved, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath, eyes squeezed shut in a whirl of feelings and emotions. Shame, fear, relief, confusion.
You giggled triumphantly at the scene, smiling with fulfillment of the first step of everything you wanted from Andy. You brought your lips to his forehead and placed a kiss, speaking softly against his dewy skin.
“See? I think that was really nice for both of us.”
You lingered there for a second, breathing in his scent.
“Jake will be down in a little bit with a change of clothes and to help you freshen up.”
You pushed yourself up out of his lap. Andy sat there stunned, still in shock with his head limp and facing the floor. As you gathered your robe and shrugged it on, you made your way to the airlock and entered the code to leave his room, turning back for one final look. Andy just barely glared at you through those long lashes, resenting the sweet smile you gave him once again, but the cloudiness penetrating his mind made him think it was maybe a little less so than he did an hour ago. You waved teasingly with your fingertips before gracing him with your parting words.
“Welcome home, Andrew. And happy Valentine’s Day.”
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Bonus A/N: who fed us after midnight? Because we’ve become gremlins😈
Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63
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dangerousstrawberryshark · 5 months ago
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Special Assistance
⚖Pairing(s)⚖→ Andy Barber x male reader ⚠CW⚠→ gay-sex, gay, bottom male reader, top Andy Barber, cockwarming, daddy kink, age difference (the reader is 25 and Andy is 43), breeding, creampie, anal play, anal fingering, bondage (he uses his tie.), anal sex, sort of friends to lovers, and marking (biting and kissing.).  ⚖Rating⚖→ Explicit ⚖Request⚖→ Yes
⚖Word Count⚖→ 3.2k
⚖Summary⚖→ Life was spiraling out of control for Andy. His son got accused of murder and is trying to clear his name while fighting with his wife, which escalated to a divorce. The only thing he can look forward to is seeing his legal assistant. He found solace in your presence, but these feelings transformed into a deeper meaning.
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Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 
This fic does not follow the Defending Jacob series and stands on its own! I haven’t watched the show yet, so there might be some mistakes.
“You’re doing good, baby. Warming my cock like a good boy.” Andy purrs as he gives small thrusts into your tight heat. His hands roam your naked body as he licks and bites your nape area. His teeth grazing your skin, grip tightening as he starts thrusting faster into your ass. His heavy breathing brushes against your ear. 
“I’m the luckiest man to have an assistant like you. Taking my cock and finding everything I need. I love you so fucking much,” Andy said as he pulled your head back, smashing his lips against yours. You would return the gesture, but you weren’t listening to the older man's words. Your mind turned into mush from Andy’s cock hitting all the right places, his large and warm hands making contact with your skin, and the bites and kisses he marks on your skin. 
You gasped as Andy’s rough hand wrapped around your weeping cock. His thumb swirls around your cockhead, gathering the translucent precum and lathering your cock with it. The older man grins as he licks your neck, thrusting faster and encouraging you to hump his hand. 
It was euphoric to be in the hands of someone older and more experienced. His gentle touches, mixed with his roughness, were everything you wanted. Andy was loving and had some dominance in him. He was a lawyer, and the stress of the profession and having to find a way to clear his name was stressful. Thankfully, he had you, his young, loving, and submissive boyfriend. Sometimes, you remember the memories and moments that led to the scene you are in now. 
It’s been almost a year since it happened. 
One year ago
You had been friends with Andy for a long time. You first met him when you got your bachelor’s in paralegal studies and ended up as his assistant. The two of you became friends after a while. Something clicked when you met him. Andy didn’t notice, but you certainly did. However, you never engaged because the older man was married and had a kid. It was also unprofessional for an assistant to pin after their boss.
Everything was going great for the most part, although you couldn’t get your feelings to change. If anything, they only worsened as Andy always praised you or gave you a slight touch. His affirmations and physical touch made your cock ache– maybe touch starved - and being lonely best described you. You always craved his touch and the words of affirmation from Andy, who was dominant but loving towards you.  He saw you as a son, mainly due to the age difference. 
Then it happened. You heard the news that Andy’s son, Jacob, was accused of murder and was swiftly arrested, awaiting trial. You watched the older man going into overdrive as he tried to clear his son’s name of the accusation. He had you conduct research, draft the documents, collect the evidence, etc. He was stressed, but it only got worse. 
You didn’t know the full details, but Andy and his wife were getting divorced. You assumed it was because Jacob was accused and the older man worked so much that he neglected his wife. Andy now has to deal with Jacob, and a divorce is the final nail in the coffin. 
The divorce proceeding went swiftly and dividing the assets was quick, but the trial for Jacob’s innocence was still going. Andy turned to you for relief and comfort. You would sometimes wake up at odd hours of the night to loud banging outside. Opening the door, you were often met with a disheveled Andy, his hair and clothing messed up as he wobbled into your living room. He would blabber and cry as he laid on the couch, and being the good friend you were, you comforted and soothed the older man. 
Andy was grateful for your presence and comfort during the hardest time in his life. You even reprimanded him for overworking and drinking too much. You were a rock for him, a foundation on which he could stand. It was during a time like this that the older man began reevaluating his feelings for you. He knew he was bisexual but never had any attraction to you. He only saw it as a platonic relationship.
As time passed, the older man began to notice things he never did about you; little quirks and some physical attributes. He found it cute, sometimes catching himself checking you out. Andy would glance whenever you tripped, getting a good view of your ass. The way your tight dress pants would hug your ass was boner-popping. 
Whenever you would leave for lunch, Andy would sit back and unzip his pants, pulling his aching cock and stroking it, letting his imagination run wild. The older man would imagine you laid out on his desk, naked and heaving, your body covered with his marks and cum, and your eyes filled with want and lust as you beg for him. 
“Fucking hell.” Andy moans as he fucks his hand, imagining it's you beneath him and his hand is your ass. The older man’s groans bounced off the wall, precum oozed from his cockslit; spreading the liquidy substance all over his cock, making it easier to thrust into his hand. He imagines you moaning for him, crying for him to go faster.
“Of course, baby, anything for you.” Andy groans as he fucks his hand faster. His heavy balls slapping against his hands… plap, plap, plap, plap. He imagines you crying from his large cock hitting your bundle of nerves deep inside your ass. The older man licks his lips as he feels his balls tightening, cum rushing to erupt out of the cockslit. 
The older man’s imagination then flashed to him and you kissing as he gave one thrust and bred you. In the real world, Andy gave one thrust into his hand, ropes of pearly cum squirted out, painting his suit and beard with the thick white liquid. He was breathing hard from his most intense orgasm yet. 
Post-nut clarity set in: he had jerked off to his friend, whom he considered to be his son, and nothing else. Andy didn’t feel bad though, something in him was telling him that it was alright. The age difference was notable, he was eighteen years your senior. He should feel ashamed, but he didn’t– he felt thrilled. 
The next few days left Andy confused about his feelings. Everything you did for him, he liked it —no, he loves you! He enjoyed being around you and being in your presence. He loved you and lusted for you! Andy kept telling himself he wouldn’t jerk off to thoughts of you in compromised positions, but that was a lie. 
For every day, for the next few weeks, the older man would jerk his cock to you. He would have multiple orgasms a day, but no more how many times, his cock was still hard. It was like he was a teenager again, discovering the world of gay porn. Nothing worked, he needed the real thing, he needed you. 
A week later
It was another hang-out, like always, with Andy coming over for dinner and chilling while watching movies or doing random stuff in your room. You didn’t know what led to this moment, but you were pinned down on your bed by the older man, his calloused hands holding yours down. You could feel Andy’s scruffy beard grinding against yours as his lips pressed against yours. 
Andy’s body was grinding against yours. You could feel his large cock straining in his pants. “You taste delicious,” the older man says as he lets out a breathy groan before diving back into your mouth. His tongue pushes past your teeth and invades your oral cavity. It was easy for Andy to establish his dominance over you. 
It was hot. The sensation of Andy’s cock grinding against yours, the heated kiss, and the heavy breathing was making your cock painfully erect and throbbing. The older man pulled back and looked at you– it was everything he imagined. Your body is disheveled: your hair is messed up and tangled, your lips are swollen with drool coating around them, and your soft pants as you try to calm down. The sight served to make Andy’s cock harder. 
Without wasting any time, Andy began stripping. He hastily took off his clothes, fumbling with his zipper before his glorious body was fully exposed to you. Without fear of receiving backlash, you admired and gazed upon the older man’s body. Your delusional dreams before Andy’s divorce weren’t so delusional after all. 
Andy’s body was huge. The older man grinds as you admire his body. He started to flex his muscles, showing his large biceps. He had chiseled abs that looked sculpted by God himself, you just wanted to trace your tongue against them. His pectorals looked big too, most likely hard but soft to touch and grope. He’s also very hairy, especially around his pecs and abdomen area– a happy trail leading down to his crotch and pubic region.
Speaking of the crotch region, Andy’s cock was perfect: size, thickness, and eavy hanging balls, swollen with so much cum. You could tell that he likes keeping his groin groomed and not too hairy– just how you like it. 
“Come on, darling. Don’t leave me hanging.” Andy says as he pulls you closer to him. His hands roam your body as he removes your clothing until your naked divine body is revealed to him. The older man drinks in your appearance– magnificent and perfect. He doesn’t know why he was blind to you before, but it's better that he realized now than never. 
He held you closer to him, worshipping your body with his mouth and hands. One of his legs pushed between your legs as he laid you down on the bed. You gasp softly as Andy’s hands squeeze your hips and knead the flesh of your ass. His mouth sucks and bites around your neck, making sure he leaves his mark on your body. You start humping his thick thigh, grinding your throbbing cock and smearing precum all over Andy’s thigh. 
“Can I do this?” Andy says, pulling himself off of you and gesturing to his tie. You knew what the older man was thinking and agreed on the spot. Andy uses the tie and wraps it around your wrists, putting you in bondage. He tightens it but makes sure it wasn’t tight enough to hurt you. The fantasies the older man had about you were coming true. 
“There’s lube on the nightstand,” you said, moving your head in the direction. Andy nods and reaches out for it. He grabs the bottle and pops it open, squirting a generous amount of the substance on his fingers. One hand gripping your tied wrists while the other one went down to your ass. 
You start breathing heavily as you feel Andy’s thick fingers circling the rim of your hole. Biting your lips as this was the first time you’ve had sex. “I need you to calm down, baby boy. Breathe.” Andy says as he kisses your knee. Your body started to relax, allowing Andy to slowly push his thick fingers in. 
Air was kicked out of your lungs as you felt the older man’s thick digits push deeper into your tight heat. Your moans got louder with each time Andy thrust his fingers deeper. Arching your back as you felt yourself riding his thick digits.  Following what you were doing, Andy began thrusting them faster– each time you pushed down, Andy pushed up. 
Suddenly, one particular thrust caused you to ascend to a higher plane. You scream in pleasure and Andy correctly assumes that that must be your prostate. The older man began making sure to hit that same spot, memorizing it. You feel your cock was about to erupt, Andy was gonna give you an anal orgasm. However, the older man didn’t want that. He wanted you to cum from and on his dick. 
Andy pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his large cock. He slowly sinks in, groaning and biting his lips as his cock is swallowed by your tight and warm hole. The older man pushed until he was completely inside, his heavy balls pressing against your ass. This was better than any pussy Andy had had. It was tight but not tight enough to where it felt like his dick was being suffocated. He always wanted to try anal but his wife declined.  He never pushed the topic and just buried the thought of anal sex. 
Whatever level of ascension Andy set with his fingers paled in comparison to his cock. You were higher than ever before; on a different plane of existence. Your ass was filled to the brim with the older man’s cock. You could feel every vein and crevice of Andy’s cock. It felt like the puzzle piece you’ve been looking for all your life was found and connected with yours. Your moans could be heard throughout the apartment building, you are most likely gonna receive noise complaints tomorrow. 
Andy gave you time to adjust to his size. It felt like he was going to burst instantly. Your ass tightened around him with a vice grip. His breathing got heavier as he didn’t want to cum just yet and leave you unsatisfied. After a few minutes, you permit Andy to move. 
“J-Jesus Christ… fucking hell… you feel so good baby.” Andy moans as his hands grip your hips. He began giving slow thrusts, sliding his cock in and out your tight ass softly, his thickness stretching you perfectly and his cockhead teasing your prostate. Your cock was weeping, oozing precum over your abdomen as it twitched back to life. 
His thrust got faster as Andy felt himself being consumed by the pleasure. “My God… Oh fuck yes.” Andy’s eyes roll back as he slows down, giving slow but powerful thrusts. His grip tightens as he feels your hole becoming tighter around him and it feels like his cock is melting. Your hands grip the sheets during a short pause before your bundle of nerves are hit again but Andy’s cockhead. 
“Daddy!” you scream before covering your mouth and realizing what you said. You thought Andy would be turned off as he stopped midway. Your face was flustered as you tried to explain that it was mistaken, but the air was punched out as Andy started thrusting fast. “Call me daddy again, baby boy. Call me daddy.” Andy moans as he lost himself and fucks you like a wild beast. Ramming his cock deeper into your depths and abusing your prostate. You could feel your body becoming overstimulated.
“D-daddy! F-feels so good~ making me feel so good~” You cry as your back arches. You start to push back, meeting Andy’s thrusts. The older man’s groans grow louder, “I know, baby. You love daddy how is fucking this tight ass? This?” Andy said before slapping your thigh, grinning as he watches the flesh jiggle from the impact. “This ass belongs to me.”
You could hear the sounds of Andy’s heavy balls slapping against your ass, your groans and moans mixing with his to become a symphony of gay sex. Your cock was bobbing and slapping against your abdomen. “Yeah, you like that? You love daddy’s cock don’t you?” the older man growls as he leans down and starts sucking your neck, leaving marks to show that you belonged to him. 
“I love your cock, daddy~ So perfect! It fills me perfectly~” you cry as you wrap your arms around Andy, pulling the older man closer to you. Andy became deaf to everything, only hearing your moans and cries for him– calling him daddy as he fucks your ass, but more soppily. His cock was throbbing inside and balls were tightening as he was ready to bust his load. 
“I’m gonna cum, baby. Want me to cum inside this ass? Breed you till my cum oozes out this hole.” Andy growls as he bites and nimbles your neck softly. “Y-yes! Yes, p-please… oh god… inside! B-breed me, breed me, breed me!” You cried desperately, your hole tightening to milk Andy’s large cock of its cum, your fingers digging into the older man’s back. You move one of your hands from your side to jerk your weeping cock, wanting to cum with the older man. 
“Almost there baby… cum!” Andy growls as he sinks his teeth into your skin, digging them as he wants to leave a permanent mark. He gave one last thrust before a wave of cum floods your hole. Your velvet walls were painted white as the older man kept filling you with his thick cum. Your cock spurts its load after the feeling of being bred and marked was the breaking point. Your chest was painted with your thick pearly substance. 
You could feel Andy’s larger body collapsing on top of yours. It was quiet besides the heavy panting and breathing. You both bask in each other's presence. Andy slowly pulls out, a loud plop sound echoing with cum gushing out your gaping hole. You whimper at the feeling of being empty and hug the older man tighter. A moment of silence falls over the room before you speak.
“I love you, Andy– daddy~” you say, saying daddy in a teasing tone. Andy laughs before returning the same gesture. “I love you too, baby.”  
Ever since that day, you and Andy have been in a relationship. About 7 months into the relationship, the older man asked if you wanted to move in with him, and you gleefully accepted. He did have rules for you; you were to be naked at all times, only dressed whenever guests arrived. Andy wanted to have full access to you. He also wanted you to cockwarm him while he worked and did your research. For a man his age, Andy was certainly horny, fucking in every corner of his house. 
You didn’t mind at all, as long as you got to be with him. 
THE END
A/n: hello, my strawberries! I hope you enjoy this fic! Took me a while due to procrastination. Also had to watch a porn video of a guy humping a pillow and moaning… the things fanfiction writers look up and watch.  TAGLIST: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation @ghostking4m @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @your-cow-boy @mack-thedork @starboye @boypied @geminiflanagan69 Very special thanks to my proofreader; @sagethegaywitch Join my taglist!
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witchywithwhiskey · 1 year ago
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the princess and the villain
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pairing: choose your own soft!dark male character x female reader
summary: you're the daughter of a powerful mob boss, and someone's been hired to take you away. but after one look at your face, the man starts getting ideas about keeping you for himself.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), dark themes, abduction, drugging, dirty thoughts and fantasies (including nonconsensual somnophilia), sadism, dacryphilia, a dangerously delusional man
word count: 1.7k
a/n: i wrote this prologue-y thing back in early spring for a specific character, but while i liked this part, i didn't like anything about how the story progressed after it and i ended up abandoning the fic. but i still really liked this part and i thought it'd be a fun entry in @bucks-and-noble's Choose Your Babe challenge!! so, after you read, please tell me who you think is the villain to our princess 😈
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For you, it was a night like any other. 
You’d gone through your normal evening routine, padding softly around your penthouse apartment before slipping between the satin sheets of your queen-sized bed. 
You’d drifted off into a peaceful slumber, feeling safe in the knowledge that your security system was set, there was an armed doorman in the lobby of your building, and your father’s men were only a phone call away.
For him, it was the night everything changed.
Of course, everything would change for you, too. You just didn’t know it yet.
You were blissfully unaware of everything that had been put in motion that led to the events of that night. You slept soundly as a man you’d never met before—one wearing a dark suit, dark gloves and a dark look in his eye—stalked silently into your bedroom. He adjusted the black leather gloves he wore, a silver gun gripped in one steady hand as he came to stand over you. 
You looked like a princess.
It was the first thing that struck the man, how much you looked like a sleeping princess from the fairytales he’d read as a boy. So peaceful and pretty and perfect. 
But the man wasn’t a knight or a prince. Sure, he’d had noble aspirations when he’d been young, wanting to slay dragons and rescue princesses like you. But that’s not how his life turned out.
Instead, he’d become the villain. He was the assassin who had killed your father’s men assigned to protect you, then slit the throat of the doorman in your lobby before disarming your security system and letting himself into your defenseless apartment. 
He was the mercenary hired by your mafia boss father’s rival to abduct you and hold you hostage while the old men squabbled over power and money.
As the man stared down at your face, his eyes tracing the curve of your cheek and the dip of your mouth, the thought occurred to him that he would pay anything to get you back if you’d been taken from him. He’d burn the whole world down to find you if someone managed to take you from him. Not that he’d ever let you out of his sight if you were his…
But then he reminded himself that you weren’t his, you were a job, and his thoughts soured. It was more difficult than he would’ve liked to admit to get back to work, his movements lacking their normal meticulousness as he shoved his gun into its holster beneath his arm. 
He pulled a cloth and a small bottle of chloroform from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He didn’t normally need to watch what he was doing, but he did then, making extra certain he didn’t pour too much of the sedative onto the cloth before stowing the bottle away again.
Normally, the man was a professional. He could press the cloth so gently over someone’s mouth and nose while they slept that they’d never even know they were being drugged. They’d just slip peacefully from sleeping into unconsciousness, without any of the fear or struggle that came with waking up to realize they were being drugged by a stranger.
But the man’s mask of calm had slipped the moment he’d laid eyes on your beauty, and he could feel the darkness in the very depths of his soul stirring within him. It was seething and starving, testing the limits of his self-control, making him feel on edge. He wanted. He wanted you.
The man could picture his hand roughly covering your mouth and nose with the chloroform cloth, your eyes flying open and staring up at him. He could imagine the way they’d widen with horror, then fill with tears that slipped down your temples and into your hair. He could almost hear your soft cry of distress and your whimper of terror as you comprehended your fate.
As he fantasized about your fear, the man’s cock hardened in his pants, thickening at the thought of your pretty eyes staring up at him like the villain he was. A menacing grin slowly curled the corners of his mouth and the dark look in his eye turned positively wicked.
Then he was moving, forgoing his normal precision and letting the darkness within him take hold as he slammed the chloroform cloth over your pretty mouth and pert nose, the tips of his leather-clad fingers digging into your soft cheeks hard enough to make you scream in surprise.
When your eyes flew open, the man couldn’t help but marvel at their beauty, leaning forward to loom over your body to get a better look. The moonlight shone across your face, limning your features in ethereal silver light, making you look like an angel. You were even more beautiful when you were looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world. 
The mercenary had thought your immediate reaction would be fear, but he was wrong. He hadn’t anticipated the way your brows would furrow in confusion, sweet little lines forming between them as you stared up at him, more bewildered than terrified by his presence.
But then—then it happened. Confusion gave way to horror, your chest heaving as you breathed in panicked gasps, only succeeding in inhaling more of the drug and dooming yourself. You whimpered so sweetly it sounded like music to the man’s ears, and your eyes filled with tears. The man watched, his mouth curving into a greedy, predatory smile. 
He held your terrified gaze, using one hand to brace the back of your head so you couldn’t escape the cloth that covered your mouth and nose and you continued to breathe in the sedative. His cock ached in his pants, the full length of him pressing against the tight confines as he throbbed with arousal, his balls filling with come that he furiously wanted to spill across your face. Or bury deep in one of your warm holes… 
His attention was forced back to the present when your body jerked with dawning realization of what was happening to you. You reached for the dangerous stranger looming over you, your fingertips falling just shy of brushing against his bulge. The man’s cock twitched, as if reaching for you in return, and he had to stop himself from thrusting to meet your touch. 
Thankfully for him, the chloroform was doing its job, and your hands dropped futilely as your eyes began to close. Your arms fell listlessly to the bed and the man watched you succumb to the sedative he’d used to drug you.
When he was certain you were unconscious, he pulled the cloth away and stowed it back in his jacket pocket, ensuring he didn’t leave any trace of his presence in your apartment. That was the job, he tried to remind himself, but the darkness within him was louder, and his movements were all too eager as he pulled the blankets of your bed back, baring your body to his hungry gaze.
He felt his cock throb in excitement as he stared down at you, your body clad in nothing but a skimpy little nightgown, the fabric so thin he could see the shape of your nipples poking through. His eyes roved greedily over your curves, lingering for a long moment on the way the bottom hem of your nightdress was rucked up around your hips, almost giving him a glimpse of your precious cunt nestled between your thighs.
The man wanted desperately to know if you’d gone to bed without panties, but he knew he had to ignore the creeping darkness that had slithered into his mind. Not because it would be a gross invasion of privacy to take a peek at your panties while you were unconscious, but because he knew that if he pushed your nightdress up any further, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from sinking his cock into your tight cunt while you were still out cold.
He’d never fucked a princess, and fucking you—even if it was while you were unconscious—might be the closest he ever got. You were a sleeping beauty and he was no prince charming, no honorable knight. He was the villain, and he wanted to ravage you, whether you were awake or not. 
In that moment, he couldn’t decide which would be better. Fucking you while you were soft and pliant with sleep, your body taking his cock into your tight warm hole while you mumbled incoherently against his shoulder. Or fucking you when you were awake, so he could see your pretty eyes fill with tears again, hear the desperate sounds you made while he filled you with his cock…
The leather of the man’s gloves creaked in the silence of your bedroom as he curled his hands into fists and beat back the darkness that had slipped into his head. He was a professional. He’d been hired to do a job, and you were that job. 
You weren’t his princess to steal away from the king’s tower. He needed to remember that.
The mercenary adjusted his cock in his pants, working hard to reclaim the control that had fled the moment he’d laid eyes on you. He forced his limbs to move precisely as he gathered you up into his arms, ignoring his body’s responses when he smelled the sweet scent of you settle around him, and when he felt your soft breath exhale against his neck. 
A car was waiting in the parking garage beneath the building, ready for the man to take you far away from your home and the city where your father held enough power to be considered a king. He encountered no obstacles as he carried you down to the garage and buckled you into the passenger seat of the car.
As the man drove away, he couldn’t help but feel like the villain stealing the princess from the king’s tower, and it gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction. He may not have been a prince or a knight, but he had taken the princess. And he began to think that maybe he should keep you for himself. 
Perhaps the man could write his own kind of twisted fairytale, one where the villain got to keep the princess. 
Looking over at you, your features soft in sleep and no less beautiful than when he’d first laid eyes on you, the man made his decision. He’d have his happily ever after at any cost—which meant he’d have to convince you that he was your fairytale come to life, just as you were his.
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so who's the babe!? tell me in the comments, reblogs or in my askbox!
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