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whoknowsanymore124 · 6 months ago

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LOVED getting this from reader’s POV it’s so heartbreaking so see how brainwashed she’s been 😭 thinking omega’s are all inherently stupid, but she’s at least somewhat smart for an omega. The pancakes though!!!! I love Curtis sm 🥺😭♥️

Still Life 2

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! 💜

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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whoknowsanymore124 · 6 months ago

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This whole series holds such a special place in my heart, I fear I can’t properly explain it 🥺♥️ It hits such a specific note to identify with this reader and her fears, but to see how she grew both because she is strong and smart on her own, but also because of the support from her friends (I love Daisy so much because of you!!), and also Steve 🥺♥️😭 the connection these two had throughout the story was so special because while the chemistry was instant it was what they built and worked at that made me feel the full range of human emotions and SQUEAL! And to see all their hard work pay off 😭 and it’s not perfect, but it’s THEIRS!!! Like her still fighting the voice in her head that this won’t work and she’ll be left on her own is so REAL and I was so happy in a way to see her struggle cause it just feels so REAL! but she’s working on it and that’s what will get her through 🥹 Steve admitting he was nervous too just mad me bawling 😭 idk the imagery of him being nervous but pushing through and bring her flowers and being so understanding, he’s just the most special man and you have this way of capturing him that has my infinite love foe this character somehow growing even more! This was such a perfect ending foe them as they delve into this new path!!! I absolutely loved the beauty of the last line.

This series has left a mark on me!!!! Thank you so much for sharing and writing and being you 🥺♥️😭 it’s such a comfort and I will revisit this story often. my love for it is endless and this was just so incredible. Thank you so much 🥺♥️♥️🥺

Back and Forth - Epilogue pt.2

Epilogue 2/2 - Always Forward

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 7200

Chapter summary: In which you’re settling into a new normal… and something beautiful might be blossoming between you and Steve, even as your past experience is holding you back.

Series masterlist

Warnings:mild allusions to smut so NSFW and 18+ to be safe; issues of self-worth, self-doubt, allusions to a panic attack, mentions of therapy, mention of past injuries, Spectre needing a hug and Steve giving us unrealistic expectations for men, language, tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: It's a wrap! Mostly anyway. I know not any people still care for this story, so all my gratitude to those who do 💕 Thank you for your love for Steve and Spectre - and enjoy 💕

“I have to cancel the date.”

The words left your lips about half a second after Daisy had picked up the phone with a cheery ‘what’s up?’, frantic and panicked, but no less true.

You had to cancel the date.

There was nothing rational about that decision, you were aware.

You were excited, you had gone over how Steve was the epitome of perfection with just hints of imperfections which he let you see because he was just that kind of perfect, how he was gentle and true and wore his heart on his sleeve and flirted with you in ways that should be illegal and were prove enough that he wanted you, the way you touched, a gentle whisper of affection--- you recalled all this with painful and tingling clarity and rationally you knew it was just the right time to move forward and that if you chickened out of the date you had both been waiting and building towards for for so long, you’d regret it and you might never get another shot.

And still, you knew it deep in your core, with an ugly acute feeling of all-consuming dread: you had to call the dinner off.

“What are you even--- wait, you have a date?! With Steve?!” Daisy nearly screeched at the other end of the line and you bit down on your painted lower lip, eyes squeezing shut at the inevitable storm coming. Or perhaps, an incoming earthquake; har fucking har.

Daisy’s surprise was anything but unexpected; because you not having told her about Steve having asked you out until this very moment had been entirely intentional.

You hadn’t told her, because she would have assured you to no end that it was the best possible thing that could happen. And with that, your gut feeling would get all confused and you’d actually believe her. Now, your gut feeling – fighting fiercely the wild butterflies in your stomach at the memory of sparing with Steve, the memory of the light in his eyes, him catching you, your lips pressing to his cheek – was telling you the truth in a warning. That you needed to back off and stay friends with Steve, because otherwise you’d lose him.

He'd be kind if you changed your mind. He had said so; and if there was one thing Steve Rogers was, it was heart-wrenchingly kind and understanding.

Except he wouldn’t be, not this time, a sleazy voice whispered in the back of your head, causing the hairs at the back of your neck stand in cold horror. This time, his hurt and disappointment would be so profound he’d leave and you’d lose him. And on the other hand, if you went out with him, you would start your journey to the inevitable heartbreak and parting ways with him, because you were bound to mess up eventually.

What a beautiful apocalyptic catch-22.

It was almost funny and a part of you laughed sardonically at you having lost sight of what truly mattered, your career stepping down on the priority list enough to have you suddenly consider something as banal as losing a boy’s interest a catastrophic event; then again, Steve Rogers was quite an extraordinary ‘boy’.

He was the best damn man you had ever met, a walking green flag. And that was the very problem.

You had fallen for him, hard – that much was an undeniable fact. He seemed to like you too. And what you two had was absolutely wonderful; you had never connected with another human being at such level, be it level of trust or of affection. You were terrified to speak the L word, but you were agonizingly aware that it was what it was for you. What Steve was to you.

And if it was, somehow, the same for him, if you took that step into trying to build a romantic relationship, there was no coming back.

And since you were faithfully bound to fucking up somehow, it would perhaps – definitely – be better to stay friends.

These flirty friends, who had sparks of want in their eyes, touched awfully lot, lit alive at the slightest brush of his fingers on your skin, your dizzy mind creating images of his large hands gripping your thighs as his tongue would trail up to his sweet prize, long thick fingers entering you, hot breath fanning over your ear as his hands would hold you steady on your shaky legs threatening to give out with every time he’d thrust inside you, so deep your fingers could have never made the lust-filled dreams any justice as you muffled your cries into the pillow at night, needy and ashamed all the same, because Steve had been patient and you lusted after him like a horny teenager.

But you liked it this way. This way was solid.

Moving further was balancing on that ledge hundred stories high and leaning towards the void just to tempt fate.

Before Steve, you used to be safe. You used to be safe within the impenetrable walls, so meticulously built; and the worst thing was that Steve Rogers hadn’t bulldozered through those walls, no. He took them away slowly, patiently removing brick by brick, not leaving as much as rubble behind for you to desperately try to pick up and rebuilt them before it was too late. The only wall left was the one you were balancing on top of, the highest of them all.

And you were going to fall to your death.

The loud cry of your name made you flinch, tugging you back to reality where Daisy sighed, once more lamenting you hadn’t bothered to share the exciting news of Steve officially asking you out after you two had danced around each other for god-knew-how-many weeks now.

“He… he only asked me three days ago…” you muttered, cursing yourself for letting the few tears spill over, ruining your make-up which you put ridiculous amount of thought into, because you wished you looked beautiful to him, but not like you were trying too hard.

Not that it mattered; because you were about to cancel your date anyway.

Maybe you should say you were sick? No, that was stupid. Steve had seen you just fine maybe three hours ago and he could always ask FRIDAY.

“Well, I suppose I can forgive you for hoarding the information,” Daisy sighed again. “But there is no way you are cancelling that date. Why on Earth would you do that?”

Because! You wanted to cry out and stomp your foot, like a petulant child you might actually be.

But even petulant children had friends; someone they could trust and rely on.

“Because… everything could go wrong.”

“Like what?--- No, wait, don’t answer that. Let me speak. And stop pacing, sit down on your ass and listen,” Daisy said, the firmness in her voice actually making you freeze mid-step, brief horror at how well she knew you striking you and for a moment, quieting the raging sea of emotion in your chest.

“Spectre, honey, I think you are panicking and you might have a reason to, but you actually don’t.”

You opened you mouth to contradict her, trying to gather your thoughts enough to speak few words to make her understand, but she was faster.

“Uh-huh, nope, I’m talking. With all the love I have for you, I gotta say that if you called me two months ago like this, I would be the one panicking, thinking someone died,” Daisy said matter-of-factly, bewilderment and guilt biting at your gut. Some friend you were, if that was how she felt. “Do not take this as an insult or an opportunity to beat yourself over that, that is so not the point I’m making. My point is that you call me. Almost on the regular. We text. You’re less guarded, you sound the happiest I have ever seen and heard you, truly happy, and you’re--- I’m sorry, but you glow when you talk about Steve. He’s good for you, he’s good to you and he’s exactly what you deserve in a man.”

You gulped, listening intently against your best judgement – because this was exactly why you hadn’t told Daisy before, because she would put all these ideas in your head, about how… you needed to grip this chance and never let go, because this could be something beautiful and Steve hadn’t given you a single reason to be afraid.

She was right, of course – but that was part of the problem.

You cleared your throat, blindly and carefully sweeping away the rivers of tears that had run down your cheeks.

“That’s the problem, Daisy. I don’t want to fuck this up. Steve is… everything and we are so good like this. We-“

“No, wait one more second. I’m gonna take a guess, okay? One teeny tiny guess, ‘cause I live to gamble. I think that whether you realize it or not, you still doubt he likes you. That he could love you – and believe me, you are wrong, because from what I heard and saw, that guy had it bad for you for a while,” she hummed, and you could hear the smug satisfied half-grin that had formed on her lips, “but my point is, another part of you is very much aware of his feelings.”

“I-“

“Because you see people. You have to, because that’s how you stay alive. That’s how we stay alive. We have shitty pasts behind us, Spectre. We do. We have these… mental scars or whatever, shit we carry with us, and we were taught the hard way not to trust, let alone to believe that someone genuinely cares. I love you, but you even more than me-“

“You never seemed to have any problems with this,” you argued. “You care, you open your heart so easily, always have, Coulson even said so-“

“Well that’s not entirely true and is not the point. My point is, that you don’t trust and open up easily, but you did it for Steve. And you chose pretty well. I mean… you have the epitome of justice and virtue to trust, talk about bagging the real prize.”

You couldn’t but snort through your tears, Daisy’s wittiness and ability to weave the truth into hilarious string of words getting to you, deflating the enormous weight sitting on your chest.

“But finally, what I wanna say is that… the fact you call me, you called me now, that you’re letting your guard down, for him the most, I believe… it’s because you know. There’s a part of you, very clever part, that recognizes and believes that he is in love with you too and that’s why you can afford to trust him and you just wanted to hear it from me, because you know that part is right. And that part knows that if you let him, he’s going to show you just how much.”

In the stunned silence that followed, your mind whirled wildly, irrationally circling around the thought of whether Daisy meant how much you could trust Steve or how much he… loved you.

Why was your ribcage suddenly so full and so light at once, your heart racing like mad and dancing like the spots in front of your eyes--- breathe, dammit.

You did. In and out. Then again. As your chest rose and fell shakily, Daisy’s voice sounded as if you were submerged and her voice was just above the water surface.

“You okay there, Champ?”

You burst into a watery laughter, your hand flying over your mouth to muffle the godawful sound.

“Yeah, no. I’m… Daisy, he’s so---- I guess I…” you trailed off, the realization of just how truthful her words were causing your hands to tremble and nearly drop your damn phone.

You.

An agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

An ally to the Avengers.

Folding like a house of cards because of a date and because a guy might like her.

God, you were pathetic--

But Steve Rogers sure was worthy of being pathetic for.

And being brave for.

But how much bravery could you truly muster up?

“You’re right. I… I should go and get my shit together before he arrives. If the date goes wrong, well, I can just-“

-die, move to another country, or another planet, just disappear, become but a ghost-

“-oh my god. I should project.”

“…what?”

You laughed, the idea completely absurd but also rather brilliant, a shot of relief and fresh panic into your veins.

“I mean, it’s not a long-term solution, but if I project to our date, then I can snap back if something goes wrong-“

“NO. Spectre, no. You are not letting your spectre go on the date instead of you-“ Daisy all but spitted out, so clearly mad and disappointed and perhaps just a tad amused that you couldn’t but instantly discard the idea which you weren’t sure you had been seriously considering in the first place.

“But--- yeah, okay, I know. It’s just… I’m really… embarrassingly worried,” you whined at last, an absurdly sweet coo sounding at the other end of the line in response, making you roll your eyes and snort.

God bless Daisy, she really was one of the best humans and Inhumans walking the Earth.

There was a lot of feelings stuffed into your tight ribcage, most of them concerning Steve Rogers, but there was an undeniable large part that was overflowing with love for your friend.

“Thank you, Daisy. Really. I… I’m sorry I-“

“If you plan to finish that sentence with ‘bothered you’, I’m gonna send an earthquake your way,” she threatened.

You snapped your mouth shut, biting your tongue hard enough for it to actually hurt, even as some distant part of your brain cheered at the idea, because well, an earthquake surely would be a valid excuse to cancel—

But suddenly, for all the mess in your head, you felt such a sharp pang in your chest at the prospect of not seeing Steve, potentially not kissing Steve, not to bask in his warmth and proximity and the light of his smile and brilliantly cerulean irises with the most adorable speckle of green-- that you knew there was no doubt left that you might actually die unless you did go to the dinner.

You gulped.

“--I’m sorry I stole your time and didn’t tell you earlier,” you said instead, earning a hum.

“Uh huh. Good. Now off you go. Make him fall on his glorious ass when he sees you, doll, and make out with him against door. And please, do everything I would do and more. See you!” Daisy cheered, ending the call before you could retort, causing you chuckle breathlessly, glancing towards the ceiling and taking a deep steadying breath.

Your nerves were still buzzing, but when you StarkWatch did, announcing that you had last two minutes before the designated date time, you jumped to your feet and rushed to the bathroom to assess the damage. You barely made it there when a knock sounded from the door, making you curse in such an unladylike manner that Steve might actually call off the date if he heard you.

Ignoring it despite everything inside you pulling you towards the door, you glanced into the mirror, realizing two fundamental facts:

One, your make-up held admiringly well despite your tears, because you had had a hunch you might cry and had used water-proof products and thus you didn’t need to fix anything.

Two, the one thing that needed fixing you had no chance to remedy; the red of your teary eyes. There was no universe in which Steve wouldn’t notice that.

And if he’d notice, he’d want to know.

And if he’d look at you the way he excelled at, that soft caring inquiring gaze that should be listed as an illegal interrogation technique right next to if not above waterboarding, you’d fold and spill your heart and inevitably chase him away-

Another knock, still gentle, but louder this time.

You whined, hands curling into fists tight enough to leave blood-red moons in your palms and headed towards the door, ironically unable to supress the fluttery feeling in your stomach as you released the tension in your hands in order to smoothen your dress and fluff up your hair.

The giddy feeling only grew exponentially as you threw the door open, your pulse skyrocketing through the roof despite the roof being over twenty stories higher.

Two things welcomed you; a gentle smile threaded with genuine excitement and a bouquet of tulips of various colours with soft tones of baby breath weaved through.

It was perfect; Steve was perfect.

And you’d swear, like many times before in secret, that he was the most handsome man in the whole universe.

However, as you allowed yourself look him over for a while, appreciating his casually fluffed up hair, the width of his shoulders and the lovely blue button-up almost hidden by the large bouquet, the well-fitting black slacks and shiny shoes, your gaze lingering on its way back up, his warm smile had already slipped, replaced by concerned gaze with the slightest hints of panic.

“What happened?”

“Nothing!” you blurted out, stepping to side to let him in, mentally counting to three for two different reasons.

One, to keep your tears at bay for at least a while longer despite the gentle inquiry in Steve’s eye. Two, to still your rapidly beating heart which nearly gave out at Steve’s words, because they might as well be a battle cry, a who hurt you and who do I need to kill written between the lines.

In a very Steve Rogers fashion, he responded to your silent invite and walked in.

And in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he did not let you off the hook easily.

Not that you blamed him; you did not sound convincing even to your ears.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” you elaborated, not having to force the smile to your lips as you met his gaze. “Nothing serious. I swear.”

“Alright…” He eyed you, still suspicious and cautious, probably because of the number of times you said the word ‘nothing’. “But if you’d rather postpone… or cancel-“

“No, not at all-“

“Or if you just want to stay in and order take-out, or cook together… or I could cook. I got groceries delivered just in case.”

“Oh?”

Your voice rose at least an octave, your hand slamming the door behind him with a little too much force.

Hysteria and self-loathing crept in like first days of winter, digging its icy claws into your stomach, effectively stunning the butterflies having been fluttering its wings there, only sinking deeper as Steve’s gaze flickered to the violently slammed door and back to your face, his eyes searching now, worried.

Of course they were; of course he was.

Of course he had had groceries delivered just in case.

Of fucking course.

Tears of humiliation stung in your eyes, but you didn’t have the heart nor the energy to be angry with him for the remark or his actions.

Just ashamed.

Or maybe a little angry too.

The rest of the statement, ‘just in case you freaked out’ was so clearly audible even if left unsaid that you wanted to tuck yourself into bed and never leave.

Hearing those words cut so damn deep – but could you really blame Steve for already knowing you so well? Could you really blame him for thinking you were an idiot, a nervous wreck of a weakling, who couldn’t even handle going out with him, when he was apparently right?

Could you really blame him for being such a sweetheart to have been prepared for that scenario?

In some ways, it was so damn thoughtful of him; and yet, it burned down your throat like a shot of absinth. It hurt like being shot through both thighs; you’d know.

And you were being ungrateful, you were aware of as much. You were being such an ungrateful bitch, for despising him for that assumption, as right as it was, and for despising Daisy for giving you hope--- because yes, maybe Steve was on his way to love you.

But he didn’t love you right.

You should be so thankful that he was so considerate and patient, but the idea of him seeing you like nothing a pathetic thing to handle in satin gloves only, a thing so fragile it might break if someone breathed on it, made you sick to your stomach with utter disappointment. In him. In you. In that stupid thing called love.

But could you really blame anyone else but yourself? Could you-

“Yeah, well,” Steve muttered, a tinge of pink in hischeeks as he shrugged, gently pulling your focus back to him. “Our job is the way it is. If the reservation fell through because of an emergency meeting or a mission making us late, if either of us had to act as a substitute agent, if anyone needed back-up… I wanted to have a plan B. That is if that were enough for you.”

Your head snapped up, your rapidly spiralling mind coming to a screeching halt, the claws in your gut digging deeper and tearing; until they finally released you.

Oh.

Oh my god.

You were such an idiot.

Indeed, a pathetic, hopeless case of an idiot and you knew, you knew you should have known better, should have tried to cut off the spiral of self-conscious thought right at the start using one of the many techniques you had been taught in therapy, but you hadn’t and you had misread it all, again.

Steve did not think you were pathetic; you were actually aware of that. Steve had, in fact, told you were the furthest thing from that, even as you had broken down in front of him at a damn animal shelter of all places.

He was just being practical. And thoughtful. Again.

Of course he fucking was. Brilliant, brilliant, kind Steve, who looked at you as if he’d do anything to make this work, because you mattered that much to him.

Mattered enough for him to put together a back-up plan just in case, if it were enough for you; and meanwhile all you had done was to call your friend to cry on her shoulder and jumped to conclusions when Steve showed up his marvellous strategizing tendencies.

What that said about your momentary problem-solving skills you did not want to think about, mainly because you could not afford to mess this up any more than it already was and so you were trying to stop yourself from spiralling, rather than jump deeper down the vortex of anxiety and self-loathing.

You repeated your brilliant response.

“Oh.”

“It’s still an option even if you’d rather just stay in,” Steve continued, seemingly oblivious to your inner turmoil. “I made a reservation for a room so we wouldn’t have anyone staring, but… if you’d rather not go out, that’s fine.”

That’s fine, he said.

It was not.

Because now you felt like a real idiot.

“No! I mean… it would be a shame for the reservation to go to waste!” It would be a shame if your brilliant planning which counted in just about every variable was ruined just because- “I’m just a ginormous-”

You swallowed the curse upon something flashing in Steve’s eye, gulping instead; and sighing so deeply that your soul might have actually left your body.

Closing your eyes, you took a steadying breath, feeling your fingers twitch as you resisted the urge to dig your nails into your palms again. Breathe. In. Hold. Out. Hold. In…

You released the air from your lungs slowly, gaze finding Steve’s as he watched you with cautious warmth, the tulips still in his hand, hauled to one side as his free hand was limply by his side; limply except for the tight fist, attracting your gaze like a magnet, the prove of his own nerves; an oasis in the lonely desert of anxiety.

He, too, wasn’t at ease, for whichever reason. That was almost as important as the fact that you knew in your gut and heart alike that the source of the unease wasn’t you – not in the sense that would result in your heartbreak, even as the wicked voices of your past whispered about the opposite.

Do not apologize for your shortcoming stemming from your trauma unless completely necessary. Thank people for accepting them, accepting you as you are, you reminded yourself, even as you quite literally had to bite your tongue to keep the automatic apology unspoken.

You forced your gaze to return to Steve’s face, a smile, however small and shy, spreading on your lips with little effort.

“I--- thank you. For being thoughtful. I… really appreciate it,” you said, a lopsided smile mirroring your own in size curling Steve’s lips sweetly. “I know this sounds silly, but… can we maybe start this over? I mean… I don’t mean---- you know what, forget-“

Steve stepped forward so fast you startled, drawing in a quick breath and silencing your doubts in an instant. As the flowers were suddenly the only thing putting distance between you, you had to crane your neck slightly as to hold his gaze, a soft greeting on his lips.

“Hi.”

He smiled wider, eyes roaming over you warmly and appreciatively, as if he was only truly seeing you in your outfit and make-up for the first time tonight and was not at all being subtle about liking what he was seeing. Your heart picked up its pace and seared all at once, heat rushing up your cheeks.

“You look beautiful. These are for you.”

You accepted the flowers with a shaky smile, a tingle rushing through your nerves as Steve’s fingers brushed yours.

“Thank you. They’re gorgeous… and you look very handsome. Blue always suits you,” you said, smile widening at the pleased spark in Steve’s eye, lightning all the more as you carefully stood on your tiptoes and pressed the briefest kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for giving me this. And for having a back-up plan.”

One corner of his lips rose higher.

“Well, they did use to call me a man with a plan… I might have not liked it, but that doesn’t mean they got it wrong. Can’t have an emergency get in the way if this might be my only shot to win over a girl like you. … a woman like you.”

The slip of his tongue felt like a caress – it was as if the simple gesture of a kiss to his cheek affected him and he really, really cared about all this. About you.

And that felt good.

It felt right.

“It wouldn’t have been,” you replied, all your willpower poured into turning away from Steve and moving to the counter to put the bouquet to a large glass since you had never had a need for a vase before. “Shall we?”

Steve nodded, almost absently as he watched your every move, including the steps you took back to him, way too close; but you couldn’t help it. With your nerves settled just a bit, with his large yet soothing presence washing over you like a gentle tidal wave, you felt yourself being pulled into his orbit, never feeling close enough.

“We shall… but are you sure you want to go to the resta-“

“Are you trying to shoot yourself in the foot here, Steve?” you teased him lightly, as if you hadn’t been doing exactly that ever since before you had talked to Daisy and cried in the process. “I’d love to go out. I…”

Steve tilted his head slightly, his intent gaze seeing straight into your soul; and making it feel like there was nothing wrong with it, because he didn’t see anything wrong. He only wished to understand; and you’d let him, because he wouldn’t judge. He never did. Not when it was you.

You felt your shoulders relax, your smile growing genuine.

“I’m just really nervous, that’s all. I promise.”

“So am I,” he said.

And you would have questioned it. Months ago, you would have called bull.

But months ago, you also forbade yourself from looking. From seeing the vulnerability behind Steve’s gaze, the barely audible but undeniably present pain of an old wound.

It dawned to you just how profound his truth behind his statement about this being the only chance he’d get with you had been.

How it wasn’t just about you giving him that chance; it was the circumstance too.

Two feet from you stood a man who once allowed himself to believe he might get a happy ending, the second great war at the brink of an end, only to miss out on seventy years of potential happiness.

And he stood there with his heart on his sleeve, hopes in his soul and a brilliant mind that left nothing to chance; he stood there and was offering all of that to you.

The tears stinging in your eyes had nothing to do with your stupid tendencies this time. The tender ache in your heart had nothing to do with messed up pasts and had everything to do with admiration and affection and faith.

Your hands twitched with the urge to grab Steve’s gorgeous face and kiss him so deep you’d pour all the love undeniably thrumming in your heart into his very being and make him feel it in his very bones.

You took a shuddery breath, your smile a little broken at its edges; but the sheer determination to make this, whatever this thing with Steve could be, work, was all-consuming, even as it stood on a shaky ground of your own insecurities.

“Well, you’re handling it about million times better than I do,” you whispered, less humour than you’d wish in your words.

Steve mirrored your smile, hand twitching just a bit as if just he understood you heard the unspoken words behind his admission; and yet, he shrugged as if he wasn’t tossing away the weight of missed chances.

“Thanks, but I feel like Bucky would disagree, seeing me ordering groceries for three different meals just in case and looking up language of flowers in respective colours.”

There was beautiful, irresistible tinge of pink in his cheeks and your heart raced, something in your mind whispering of showing him yours since he’d showed you his. That or really just going for it and kissing him senseless.

“Still so much better than me. I… I do have a history of shooting myself in the foot… figuratively. Case on point,” you chucked self-deprecatingly as you gestured vaguely to your slightly red eyes in ways of explanation, Steve’s gaze turning impossibly soft. “And I know you said no pressure, but…”

“Hey, I meant it. Still do,” he whispered, taking half a step closer.

The woodsy notes of his cologne tickled your nostrils, warmth spreading all over your skin, feet twitching to erase the last distance and if not kiss him, then at least hold him; or let yourself be held in his ever-inviting embrace.

“I know. That’s… part of the problem, actually.” His eyebrow arched slightly, prompting you to explain. “I believe you. I trust you. I know how banal that sounds, but it’s not. And it’s one of the reasons why everything in me screams yes pressure. I just… really, really don’t want to mess this up, Steve. Because, well… this could be myonly shot with a guy like you.”

You could almost hear the wheels in his head whirling madly as you echoed his earlier words, processing your shy admission; but the one thing that appeared in his expressions almost, almost seemed like pride. Honour, even.

And a smile. Such a soft, soft smile as his hand carefully grasped yours.

“It wouldn’t have been,” he echoed your earlier words. “But… is there anything I can do to make it easier? More comfortable?”

You huffed a breathless laugh despite yourself as a single tear spilled over, a tight-lipped smile the only thing stopping you from shouting at heavens. Truly, you could kiss Steve for such sweet offer, except you also wanted to smack him a bit, because how was this man real?

He squeezed your hand reassuringly even in the face of your apparent insanity.

“A bit of a catch 22, Steve. You offering to make it better is… sweet and making it worse all at once. As in… yes pressure.”

“Right… should I act like a jerk, then?” he offered light-heartedly. “I mean, I have it on good authority I can be one-”

You laughed again, something in your chest humming with uncontainable warmth and light. “Oh I heard about that. I can attest to that.”

His smile widened, teasing and so painfully beautiful that you felt your heart spasm in your chest – the conversation putting you further on edge as well as offering comfort. It was a strange duality to wrap your head around; much like with just about everything when it came to Steve.

Pressured and freer to be and feel than you had ever felt; a terrifying step you couldn’t wait to make; wishing to jump off the ledge just to feel the exhilaration of a free fall and fumbling with the parachute before the severity of the impact Steve had on your life could kill you.

So was there something that could silence the anxious part of the duality for just a moment, just so you didn’t sabotage something beautiful before it could start? Before you’d repay Steve’s sincerity and vulnerability with shutting yourself off?

Held in the soft bonds of his cerulean gaze, his gentle hand still keeping yours, less than two feet apart, so close you could feel gravity pulling you towards him, it took a shocking amount of willpower not to grasp his other hand and bring it to your lips to show your appreciation, not to place it on your cheek just so you could cradle his, stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to his, something you had been longing to do for what might as well be an eternity and half.

You might drop dead right here if you spent another minute without learning how soft his lips were, without tasting that sunshine-like smile. Without gifting yourself one single undeniable proof that this truly was right a proof beyond your foolish heart or Daisy’s words or Steve’s proximity.

Eyes raking over him again, over the sharp cut of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the gentle light in his eyes – an artist and a piece of art in one – the idea took you by surprise; insane, brilliant and absurd. And yet…

“I… there is actually something,” you said, the words alone having your heart startle in your ribcage, much like the two tiny steps you took to stand chest to chest with him, feeling the heat radiating off of his large body.

“Name it.”

You could tell his brain was racing, having probably come to the conclusion that you were about to ask for a hug if his sweet but pressure-free smile was anything to go by, his encouraging squeeze to your hand.

God if he only knew.

You took a steadying breath, only resulting in your heart stumbling further, a breathless whisper on your parted lips.

“’Kay.”

Acting before you could change your mind, you placed your palm on Steve’s shoulder, rising to your tiptoes to bring yourself closer; and finally erased the last distance between you.

You could hear the sharp inhale just before your lips pressed to his, but by then, it was too late to back out.

And the moment your lips met, there was no space in your head for regrets; not an inch of your mind Steve didn’t occupy. The slightest shift of muscles of his arm under your palm, the brush of his warm hand over your hip; the sweet taste of his lips, the gentlest pressure against your mouth, his nose bumping yours as you did not quite coordinate; the heat and exhilaration rushing down your spine, the twitch of Steve’s fingers around your hand.

The tickle of his breath as you reluctantly retreated, cheeks burning, heartbeat pulsing in every single cell of your body, your gaze eagerly drinking in the sight of Steve’s eyes opening slowly, the gorgeous twinkle of something so delightfully alive sending your stomach fluttering, his hand remaining on your hip as if to ground you. To sooth the part of your that chased your frantic heart with worries if you had just terribly overstepped, the part so insistently nudging at your conscience despite the perfectly clear memory of how Steve responded to your semi-solicited attack on his perfect lips.

The corners of those perfect lips curled up, his voice a little husky as he observed you with silent wonder.

“I like the way you think.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause… I know this is what usually comes at the end of a date-”

You were silenced by the most beautiful and effective way known to mankind, the most pleasant shiver tickling your belly as Steve’s lips captured yours again, your hand released in order for him to cradle your cheek and angle your face up just to steal all air from your lungs oh so sweetly.

Your hand slid to his nape, keeping him close, deep contentment rumbling in his chest brushing against yours, his hand flexing at your hip, eliciting a silent keen in the back of your throat.

God your head was spinning and perhaps it had a little something to do with the fact you probably needed oxygen at this point, but you could not bring yourself to care, not when Steve’s lips continued to dance against yours with gentle insistence.

When he did let up, you found yourself gripping his shirt at his side, not moving back half an inch more than it was strictly necessary to breathe; an indulgent inhale of everything that was Steve, eyes remaining closed to process the utter explosion of feeling and sensations in your chest.

You could still feel his smile, still taste it on your lips as your tongue darted out, a careful nudge to your nose as Steve stole the briefest peck from your mouth again, air catching in your throat.

He held you. He held you so deliciously close still, the heat radiating off his body soothing and enticing at once, his thumb drawing a small circle on your burning cheek.

“Wow. That’s… wow. Okay,” you rasped, delighting bubbling in your throat, fingers instinctively caressing Steve’s nape as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Yeah.”

“I--- I’m very relaxed now.”

And you were. God you were. There was not a single thing in this world that had ever felt so incredibly right.

Steve chuckled gently and you dared to open your eyes, meeting his sparkling blues. “One way to say that, I suppose. You’re a genius, Firefly.”

Breath hitching at the soft nickname – an endearment really, one you still weren’t sure where it came from but had been and was now longing to hear it again when it sounded so tenderly on his lips – you couldn’t contain the foolish smile tugging insistently on your lips, rewarded by another, albeit brief, taste of Steve’s own.

“Don’t know about that…”

“I do,” Steve argued, fingertips gently running over your brow, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. “Genius. Just one catch.”

You didn’t have the capacity to second guess yourself, the soft hoarseness of Steve’s voice and the mischief in his gaze way too distracting.

“And what’s that?”

Smile widening, his fingers slid under your chin instead, tipping your head further back as he drank from your lips again, squeezing your hip just enough to have you stifle a whimper at the rush of pure delight through your veins.

God you hoped he’d never stop kissing you-

“Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ya’,” he drawled before he was pulling you in again, your ribcage nearly bursting at its seams at the tinge of the Brooklyn accent that you had never heard to come out before.

Great minds, you thought distantly. For all your back-and-forths before, some of them which you enjoyed, you were immensely enjoying being on the same page right now.

Your hand sprawled on his side appreciatively, your smile mirroring his.

“No protests here. No issues whatsoever,” you muttered between the brief encounters of lips. “You said you had a plan B, didn’t you?”

It was that that had Steve sigh, his forehead gently knocking against your again, causing you to swallow a sigh of disappointment. As sweet as the proximity still was, his lips had been much sweeter.

Even as his fingers tracing the length of your arm softly, leaving tender heat in their wake, were taking a close second.

“Good…” he hummed, a flash of mischief in his eye. “But you deserve better. We can save plan B for when we actually need it. Sounds good?”

Asking a question when looking at you like that, he would get your yes to anything. You had a distant feeling in your gut he knew that.

“’Kay.”

“There’s always time after, right?”

He petted the sensitive skin above your collarbone when retreating – and again, you would have agreed to anything if he’d done that just one more time, looking at you from under his eyelashes, a lovely combination of boyish and downright wicked.

“Yeah.”

He grinned, leaving no option for you but to peck his lips one more time; giggles bubbled in your throat, sunshine coming from within your chest warming your bones, when he used that opportunity to grasp at your chin again and held you close for a while longer, muttering a breathy ‘now hold on a second’ straight into your mouth

You were going to miss your reservation at this rate.

You did not care.

“Okay,” Steve sighed, almost wistfully. “Let’s go.”

Obedient of your Captain, you stepped back on embarrassingly wobbly legs and reached for your jacket and moved to slip into it; only for Steve to grasp your hand, confiscating the jacket and pulling you in for another kiss, muffling your surprised laughter.

Only then, with a sweet May I?, he held out the garment for you, complimenting your looks once more as you silently nodded, feeling heat rushing to your cheeks at his gentlemanly ways, not at all minding that his touch lingered less than gentlemanly on your shoulder. You believed you indeed were a sight; lips swollen a bit from the numerous kisses exchanged, eyes wide, face glowing with a smile; the perfect mirror to Steve’s expression.

And as you stepped out of the door, you left most shadows behind, only an echo of anxiety following you, blending into giddy anticipation.

There were still pressures and expectations; but as Steve took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, you couldn’t help but feel at peace, a gentle voice inside you whispering you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And that whatever path you were to walk, it was the right one.

Drabbles and oneshots

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Thank you for reading! It’s such a strange feeling to give, mostly, goodbye to a story. If you’re willing to share your thoughts and let me know what and if you enjoyed, I’ll be more than happy 💕

Similarly, I’ll be delighted if you stay tuned for the little Snapshots of Spectre’s and Steve’s life.

May February be sweet to you 🥰 And Happy Galentine's or Valentine's Day 💕

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whoknowsanymore124 · 6 months ago

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This man right here is my HUSBAND!!! This is so utterly sweet and tender 🥺 you just know he wants her to live her best un-exhausting life ♥️ this part in particular like he is just so SMOOTH and has all the moves rhat would make me melt into a puddle- “Laughing, Steve slid his hand up your spine, then to the back of your head, guiding your cheek to his broad chest as he dropped a kiss to the crown of your head and spun you in time with the music.” THE WORST INDEED 😩😤🥺♥️

Sway

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Word Count: 518 Summary: After a long week, Steve dotes on you in a new way. Warnings: AU. Soft mobster!Steve. Boss/employee relationship. Fluff. Kinda moving into established relationship territory.

A/N: Here’s a lil short, sweet treat featuring Gentle Soul!Steve.

It had been weeks since you and Steve had taken your relationship to the next level.

He had danced around the idea of you no longer formally working for him, but the thought of not having a job anymore–even if you trusted Steve to take care of you and do right by you, even if the worst happened and you no longer were whatever you had turned into–the thought of no longer being self-sufficient made you anxious.

And since Steve could read you so easily, especially now, he had let the subject drop.

So you spent your days as you always had, working away to keep his home gleaming, and your boss well taken care of.

And it was exhausting.

Not in a bad way, but exhausting all the same.

So after a long, exhausting week, Steve decided it was time to turn the tables and take care of you for once, but maybe not in the way you’d expect.

He found you in the living room, curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace and barely functioning but still blinking at him with interest when he appeared.

You watched as he fiddled with a small device and his phone, and realized it was a bluetooth speaker once old timey music began to fill the room.

Despite your exhaustion, you didn’t resist when he gently took your hands and tugged you to your feet. Steve gathered you close, holding you so firmly that you didn’t need to exert much energy at all.

Still, you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little.

“This is a very rude way to dote on me after a long week,” you muttered. "Moving is a lot right now, okay?"

You sagged against his chest a little more, smiling and swaying in place more than slow dancing as you rested your chin on Steve’s suit vest and pouted up at him with narrowed eyes.

“I know sweetheart, I’m the worst,” he confirmed, smiling as you giggled.

He dipped low and kissed the tip of your nose before catching your lips in a much slower kiss, a thorough one that had you whining in disappointment once he pulled away.

“You look exhausted,” Steve murmured, stroking your cheek with his curled, tattooed finger as he frowned at you.

“You’re complete shit at wooing a girl, sir.”

Laughing, Steve slid his hand up your spine, then to the back of your head, guiding your cheek to his broad chest as he dropped a kiss to the crown of your head and spun you in time with the music.

“I know,” he replied, amusement lacing his words. “But you’re stuck with me.”

Within your chest, your heart skipped a beat, fluttering with a sense of joy that had warmness seeping through every inch of you as you clung to Steve just a little bit tighter.

“I’m very okay with that,” you sighed happily in response, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned more of your weight against Steve and trusted him to hold you up and keep you both swaying as you danced into the weekend.

Together.

They make me so happy 😊

Please take a moment to drop a lil feedback - it really means so much! Thank you! ❤️

—

I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @‌sirisshamelesshoelibrary and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

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whoknowsanymore124 · 6 months ago

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MY STEVIE BABY 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭♥️♥️♥️♥️ oh my gosh, also I loved seeing Sam here too 🥺 and the details with Steve being modeled after a legit person!!!! That’s lowkey so perfect. THE WAY HE’S SO HULKING BUT KIND as he stands behind Sam in the intro!!! Like his presence truly would be so soothing. I really loved the security detail of you and you alone being able to turn Steve off so no one trying to attach could!!! His twinkling eyes could get ANY secret out of me. Oh I think I really loved these two 🥺♥️ he’s so good for her. THANK YOU FOR SHARING 🥺😭♥️

Defense Mode

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,829 Summary: Your new AI bot wasn’t a purchase made on a whim or a way to treat yourself. He was a necessity, a shield of protection that you so desperately, desperately needed. Warnings: AU. AI!Bot!Steve. Allusions to stalking. Reader is anxious, stressed, and prone to panic.

A/N: Surprise! I finished this much sooner than I thought I would. I’m very excited to introduce you to AI!Steve. I hope you enjoy him ❤️

SUPERIOR AI MASTERLIST

You were already hovering near the front door when a sharp knock sounded.

Despite the way you were expecting the delivery, and you’d heard the vehicle pull up your long driveway just a moment ago, you still startled at the sound, your heart jackhammering in your chest as you darted forward to undo the three locks on your front door before easing it open.

A pair of warm, brown eyes greeted you first, and you mustered a small smile to mirror the one on Sam Wilson’s face.

Last week’s video call hadn’t done him justice; he was even more handsome in person, and something about his demeanor emanated calm and reassurance and had some of the tension knotting your shoulders easing ever so slightly.

Sam spoke your name with a questioning lilt, his smile growing into a grin as you nodded in confirmation. He held out his hand to you, and you accepted the firm but gentle shake, your wide gaze darting to the tall, broad figure standing just behind Sam.

Your new AI bot was gorgeous.

And unexpectedly so.

Even though you had given Sam, your Superior AI custom developer, some preferred physical attributes, you still hadn’t expected what looked like a Greek god come to life to arrive on your doorstep.

His skin was flawless, his blonde hair stylishly swooped up from his forehead, and his bright blue eyes watched you closely. You were glad you went with the more casual outfit of jeans, a light gray t-shirt, and brown leather jacket. Even though the default navy stealth security uniform had stirred something in you, it had also made you anxious, and that wasn’t something you needed more of right now.

“This is Steve Rogers,” Sam stepped aside and introduced you to your new security AI, who instantly stepped forward and met your gaze without wavering.

He greeted you with a polite, “Ma’am,” his own large hand extending to swallow yours for a beat before he once again clasped his hands behind his back as he stood at attention.

You just blinked at him for a moment, your mouth gaping and your hand tingling as it fell back to your side. After a long, awkward beat, Sam cleared his throat. When your gaze snapped to him, he gave you another warm smile.

“Should we head inside so I can walk you through initiation and setup?”

“Yes, of course!” you blustered, feeling heat creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you stepped back and waved Sam and Steve inside.

You waited until they moved past you and deeper into the living room before you closed the front door and did up all three locks out of habit.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this place was in the middle of nowhere,” Sam said as his observant gaze flickered around the open floorplan of your new home.

The cabin was practically across the country from where you used to live, tucked away up north in the woods outside of a sparsely populated town that you had never heard of before deciding to move here.

Thankfully the structure had been in good condition overall, so it hadn’t eaten into your savings too much to make the downpayment and then do some much needed updates to make it more livable and cozy.

Even if you knew no amount of stunning scenery, soothing candle scents, and impossibly soft throw blankets would really do much to put a dent in your perpetual state of fight or flight, you had tried your best to make the cabin a home, one you could maybe learn to love and covet one day.

One day when you were able to feel anything beyond terrified, paranoid, and like you were living in a waking nightmare.

Realizing Sam and Steve were both staring at you, awaiting a response, you shook yourself. “Yeah, it just felt right…and necessary, after everything,” you muttered as you hugged yourself tightly and joined Sam and Steve in the middle of the living room.

“Understandable,” Sam murmured, watching you for a moment before he clapped Steve on the shoulder. “So, Steve is the latest and greatest from Superior AI’s Security Shield Edition lineup, meaning his programming is rooted in security and protection.”

“Good,” you breathed.

And you meant it.

Security and protection were what you needed now, more than anything else.

“He’s actually modeled after one of the most talented and decorated men to ever serve in the army, and his programming is outfitted with various combat training, defense methods, weapons training, basic medic knowledge and training,” Sam listed off. “Steve’s strategic and a keen observer, and he’s also very emotionally intelligent and loyal.” Grinning, Sam’s proud gaze moved from Steve to you as he finished, “He’s pretty much the perfect soldier meets a good man.”

“That’s exactly what I need,” your smile was tremulous as you gazed between Sam and Steve.

“Let me show you the security failsafe,” Sam waved you closer as Steve turned his back to you both. “This is exclusive to the Security Shield models. The power button on the nape? It only responds to your fingerprints, that way only you can power down or turn on the bot.”

Sam swiped his finger over the nape of Steve’s neck, and you watched as a turquoise neon light appeared. It was shaped like the Superior AI logo and sat at the base of Steve’s nape.

“Now, since I’ve already programmed you as the primary user and put those digital fingerprints you submitted to good use, I’m not able to power him on or off.” Sam demonstrated this by holding his thumb against the glowing button.

Nothing happened, and Steve remained with his back to you both, standing tall and at attention.

“Now, you try.”

You stepped closer, slightly shaking as you touched your thumb to the power button, amazed by how warm and soft Steve’s skin felt.

How human.

After three seconds, Steve’s form slackened and slumped forward, making you squeak in surprise and retract your touch.

Chuckling, Sam stepped forward. “Again, only you as the primary user can power him on or off.” Sam pressed his own thumb to the power button for almost five seconds, and you watched, once again, as nothing happened.

Once he stepped away and nodded toward you, you touched the power button and held your thumb in place for a few seconds, not startled as much this time around when Steve suddenly powered up and stood tall and at attention once more.

He turned to you, a small smile curling his plump, pink lips as he greeted you with another respectful, “Ma’am.”

“And he knows my…situation?” you asked Sam, hugging yourself tighter as you tried to suppress the onslaught of memories and feelings from the past six months that were always boiling just beneath the surface.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve answered. “My memory has been updated with all of the data on your situation and the offender. The only remaining steps to complete setup are for you to sync me with your home security system, which will also give me access to the security cameras monitoring your property, and for you to complete your primary user welcome questionnaire to update all of your preferences and requests beyond security and protection.” Steve hesitated, waiting until your gaze met his. “I will keep you safe, whatever it takes.”

Even though Steve wasn’t even human, something about the way he was watching you, and how earnest his promise was, had your breath hitching as a lump of emotion swelled in your throat.

Blinking back the hot burn of tears from your eyes, you took a minute to try to pull yourself together, your voice wobbling anyway when you finally whispered out a quiet, “Thank you, Steve.”

Your embarrassed gaze fell away, so you missed the way both Steve and Sam seemed to soften at your distress, sharing a brief look before Steve stepped forward and gently squeezed your shoulder in comfort.

You couldn’t remember the last time that you were on the receiving end of a soft, innocent touch–a touch meant to soothe–probably not since you were with…

Shuddering, you quickly shook away that thought. Shooting Steve a grateful smile, your gazes locked and lingered on the other for a moment, until–

“Alright, well,” Sam clapped, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It looks like you’re in good hands, so I’ll leave you to it. You have my number and email if you need anything else or have any issues.”

“Thank you, Sam, for all of your help throughout this entire process, and for being so understanding of my situation,” you told him as you followed him to the front door.

“It was my pleasure,” he shot you one more of those big, warm smiles of his. “You take care of yourself, okay? And you let Steve help with that, it’s why he’s here.”

You nodded, watching as Sam undid the locks on your door before letting himself outside. As soon as the door shut, you moved forward and redid the locks, feeling a little self-conscious as you slowly turned around to find Steve watching you.

After a long moment of awkward silence, he cocked his head to the side. “How about you sync me to your security system, and then we can schedule some time tomorrow for you to complete your welcome questionnaire, that way you’re not too overwhelmed?”

“Yes,” you nodded, grateful for the distraction and something to keep your mind occupied in a healthy way, but also thankful for how Steve was being mindful of not stressing you out. “I’ll go grab my tablet, just give me a moment.”

“Of course,” Steve murmured, his watchful gaze glued to you as you hurried from the room and out of sight.

A few hours later, as the sun began to set, you couldn’t help but hover by the living room windows, fretfully watching as it grew darker outside with each passing moment.

Your eyes jumped from one end of the line of trees circling your property to the other, avid in their observation, desperately trying to spot movement beyond that caused by nature or wildlife.

Desperately making sure he wasn’t out there, watching and waiting.

Feeling that familiar sense of panic lapping at you, you nibbled on your thumbnail, staring outside a moment longer before hurrying toward the front door. You double checked that all the locks were engaged before doing the same to the security system via the little digital panel on the wall beside the front door.

And then you were moving toward the windows again, ever vigilant as it grew harder to see through the darkness surrounding your home.

When a warm hand touched your shoulder, you jumped and shrieked, spinning around to find Steve taking a step back, holding his hands up in a gesture to convey he didn’t mean you any harm as he watched you with a slight furrow to his brow.

“Forgive me, ma’am,” he started, but you cut him off with an almost hysterical laugh.

“No! That was all me, God, I’m so sorry. I’m a mess,” you pressed a hand to your chest, aware of the way your heart was racing, as you took a deep breath and exhaled it shakily. Your shy gaze met Steve’s and you mustered a small smile. “You’re so quiet, I forgot you were here. I guess it will take some time to get used to all this.”

“That’s understandable,” Steve smiled softly, gesturing toward the coffee table where a steaming bowl of stew and a small plate with a big hunk of fresh artisan bread sat awaiting you. “I took the liberty of making you dinner, I hope that’s okay?”

“I…” you blinked in surprise, that familiar feeling of tears welling returning as you stared at the dinner spread. “It’s more than okay, it’s very much appreciated, Steve, thank you. I haven’t been great about remembering to eat or even having the energy to cook much, to be honest.”

You moved toward the sofa, shooting your still surprised gaze his way as you sat down.

“Sam made sure my caretaking programming was top notch and fully enabled. He figured you could use it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s not wrong.”

“Of course, you can disable or tweak the programming however you want…” Steve started, but went quiet as you shook your head.

“No, you’re perfect.” Realizing how that sounded, you froze, your face heating as you glanced at Steve to find a small, close-lipped smile aimed your way. “Uh, I just mean…Sam was right, yet again, I could definitely use the caretaking.”

“I’m glad you find my support satisfactory,” Steve murmured. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

Cradling the bowl of stew against your chest with one hand, you held a spoon in the other as you sank back against your soft, cushy sofa, and slowly began to eat. You were quiet as you did so, enjoying the flavorful stew and how comforting it was.

But your eyes remained on Steve, watching as he moved toward the windows and pulled down the blinds before drawing the curtains closed for good measure. Next he headed toward the fireplace across from you, adding another log to the dwindling flames and stoking the fire back to a warm, roaring glow.

When he was done, Steve moved toward the corner of the room, clasping his hands behind his back, his posture alert as his gaze met yours.

You finished chewing your mouthful of food, swallowing before telling him, “You can sit with me,” you nodded toward the adjacent armchair. “You don’t need to be at attention 24/7, or call me ‘ma’am.’ I’d prefer if you were more casual actually, I think I’d feel less on edge, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Steve nodded. “I’ll make note of these preferences,” he said as he moved closer and eased his big body into the armchair a few feet away.

The both of you once again fell quiet, but it wasn’t nearly as awkward as you thought it maybe should be. Much like Sam’s demeanor, something about Steve soothed you, made you feel safe.

Perhaps it was the fact that his literal purpose was to protect you at all costs.

You may still be living in a waking nightmare, but you weren’t alone anymore. You had help now. And knowing that had you breathing just a little bit easier.

Once you were finished eating, you sat forward and set the empty bowl and plate on the table. “It was really good, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” There was a pause, and, from the corner of your eye, you saw Steve’s head tilt to the side ever so slightly before he spoke again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What?” you asked, confused as you glanced over at him.

“What happened with the offender? Maybe it would be good for you, to get it all out?”

There was something both tempting and terrifying about Steve’s offer. You felt anxiety prickle along your skin as you reached for the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and tucked it around you, like it could somehow shield you from your current reality.

“Do you have therapist programming too?” You joked as you peeked over at Steve.

“Not exactly.” His eyes twinkled as he continued, “But I can grab a notepad and you can recline on the sofa if you’d like. You can even tell me about your childhood, and you’ll get bonus points if your parents were terrible.”

You stared at him for a long beat, your lips parted in surprise before you asked, “Was that…a joke?”

Steve smiled and shrugged, and you swore something in his features seemed to warm as you laughed in delight at this discovery.

That your new AI had a sense of humor and it was a little trollish.

“I’m glad Sam chose you for me,” you whispered.

Steve’s amused grin softened to something more…tender, and it had your heart skipping a beat in a way that had nothing to do with fear or panic, for once.

He was quiet as he watched you, patiently awaiting your decision as you mulled over his offer.

Finally, you released a shaky sigh, nodding slowly as your eyes met Steve’s. “Okay, I’ll tell you. Maybe it will be helpful for you to hear it all from me firsthand, and maybe…” you shuddered, swallowing hard as you went on, “Maybe it will be helpful for me, too, to just…get it all out, like you said.”

You paused for a moment, your eyes going distant as you finally allowed your mind to go there, back to the very beginning six months ago.

When you first met him.

Even though your voice was soft and shaky to start, you began to tell Steve about how it all began, about this awful situation you now found yourself in…

About your stalker.

Eeeeep! I’m so happy to bring AI!Steve to life. I hope you enjoyed this first part. I’d be so very grateful and ecstatic if you took a moment to drop me a comment or reblog to let me know what you thought. Thank you ❤️

—

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whoknowsanymore124 · 6 months ago

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CHRIS EVANS as RANSOM DRYSDALE Knives Out (2019) | dir. Rian Johnson

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whoknowsanymore124 · 7 months ago

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I absolutely lost it at this point “He leaned forward, moving his hands to grip the edge of your chair and yanked it at an angle toward him. Your legs were between his, his hands gripping the sides of your chair, veins protruding in his forearms as his muscles tensed.” Like the chair pull is SO UNGODLY HOT!!! And then his explanation and calmness at her remaining “princess” for now 🥴🥴🥴 this was incredible!!!!

Touch the Darkness

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; possessiveness; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; jealous Reader (though she claims otherwise); non-lethal poisoning; sex; turned on by violence;

word count: 6.8k

Author’s Note: I know you've waited a bit for this next chapter. I didn't exactly have trouble writing it, my muse was simply interested in other projects. But I'm always a hoe for dark Steve, so returning to him was inevitable. As it was inevitable for Steve's dick darkness to start corrupting Reader in small doses. Or, maybe, he gives her boldness to act out on instincts she would otherwise suppress, because they're not proper 😏 For a brighter side - Princess gains a genuine new friend! 🥰

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 8. Tempestuous as the sea

~ * ~

You could blame the slow process of writing on the tiredness, but it was honestly the fault of delicious macaroons you’ve been reaching for every single sentence. At least with the sweet bite the mundane typing of a bland report felt a little more exciting. Once you ate the final macaroon, only the boring part would remain.

Of all the excitement and challenges that came with running a health center, the bureaucratic side of it was truly exhausting.

A knock on the door of your home office startled you mid bite.

Before you swallowed and managed to invite him in, Steve was already pushing the door open and strolling inside.

You glared at him, but didn’t comment on the intrusion. Knowing your husband, he’d say that he came in your pussy just this morning and you had no objections to it, so why fuss over a damn office.

Pointing out that you didn’t exactly invite him into your pussy either, was a futile argument. Especially since you didn’t stop him, or even elbow him in those perfect, stupid abs of marble.

Quite the contrary. You rocked back against him and begged, until he rolled you fully onto your front and savaged you.

You were still disgusted with yourself for that. As well for the sex two nights before. And the one in the shower. Or the Sunday humiliation, when it became clear that the chef was in the kitchen preparing your fancy dinner while you were screaming the house down as Steve wrung three orgasms out of you, one after the other.

So disgusted. And still giving in to the temptation that was the devil himself.

Who walked around your desk and leaned against it, looking down at you curled in the chair and with your cheeks stuffed with sweets.

A strange feeling knotted your stomach.

You were barefoot, wearing a pair of leggins and a hoodie. Crumbs of gooey sweetness were sticking to the corners of your mouth. Steve was barefoot, too; which meant he came home for the rest of the day, with no plans of leaving. He had a plain, tight T-shirt paired with dark jeans, his leather jacket already taken off. He stared at your face, only briefly glancing at the almost empty plate of macaroons.

This scene was so… domestic.

Instead of unwrapping that terrifying thought, you diverted your attention to the royal red envelope in Steve’s hand. A beautiful calligraphy shimmered in gold.

“What’s that?” You asked, swallowing the rest of your macaroon.

Unexpectedly, Steve leaned forward. Tip of his tongue licked at the corner of your mouth, swiping the sticky sweetness. Then it plugged between your lips that opened on a soft gasp.

The kiss was short, but intense and depraved. As it always was with Steve. And your treacherous body chased it as he pulled back.

“Lemon would pair better.” He hummed, resuming his previous stance.

“What?” You blinked, confused. Your head was still swimming in dizzy fog from that unexpected kiss. As well from the fact nothing more followed.

You were married, but there was nothing marital about your relationship with Steve. There were no sweet kisses good morning or goodbye, or hugs and cuddles. If either of you initiated physical contact it was to fuck.

But now no touching, or undressing followed. The unexpected kiss remained just that - a shard of affection a normal newlywed couple might show each other.

It messed with your mind. And pulled at a cord in your chest.

“With your taste.” Steve explained; corners of his mouth curling in a hungry smirk.

Which, really, should be followed by his mouth descending on other parts of you.

Instead, your body filled with heat both from the kiss and his words while Steve returned to tapping the envelope against his thigh, unbothered.

Swallowing, you pushed that spark of need down. Steve was already too aware of how eagerly your body responded to him. Especially, since you stopped fighting it too much when the desire sparked low in your core. You weren’t going to further your humiliation.

“So what’s with that?” You asked, pointing at the red envelope.

“An invitation.” Steve showed you the beautifully addressed front. “For Mr and Mrs Rogers.”

You ignored his pleased smirk when he said the last part. It still evoked annoyance. The realization other people were now calling you by his last name fueled that irritation.

“To Stark’s annual post expo gala.” He said it with a roll of his eyes.

Clearly, he wasn’t thrilled. You doubted it was because he had no regard for technology and knowledge. As much as you hated to admit it, Steve Rogers was exceptionally smart and up to date with many areas of expertise.

From what you learned about your husband over the weeks, he wasn’t a fan of boring, social chit-chat and fake politeness. Which is why he preferred his direct, brutal methods of communication. But even he couldn’t fully escape socializing with the people he had on payroll and leash.

“I assume it’s expected of me to go with you,” you glared at him, even though a small spark of excitement flickered in your chest.

You’ve been to a few fancy parties and fundraisers, but to attend something of this caliber was a thrilling novelty.

For one, you’d get to dress up. You liked it, once in a while, to feel like a modern sort of Cinderella, who gets to swirl around in a pretty dress and eat expensive snacks. Secondly, it was a tempting opportunity for you as a director of the health center to lure in new benefactors. The project you’ve been working on was one that would need a solid dose of funding.

There was also the aspect of meeting people in similar fields. Stark’s expo focused on technology mostly, but that area leaked into medical fields, as well. There were a lot of neuroscience breakthroughs in the past years, which served psychiatric and psychological fields. It could prove beneficial, if you spoke to some experts.

“Princess,” Steve tilted his head, “fuck the expectations.”

You almost sagged in disappointment.

“But-” he continued- “I have a few things to settle with some people and they will be there. It saves me a lot of time to do it there. And since I’m going, you are going, too.”

He dropped the envelope onto the desk then cupped your chin with his hand. You hated how you didn’t hate the jolt of pleasure his touch evoked.

“First official outing as newlyweds, Princess. Gotta make an impression.” There was near cruel mirth in his blue eyes.

“Pffft!” You snorted, attempting to pull away from his grip. You still haven’t fully accepted that once Steve had his hand on you, he was unlikely to relent.

Well, your mind didn’t accept it. Your body has become a whore for it.

“I doubt I’ll be making any sort of impression on the corrupted men who kneel for you,” unless they were disgusting pigs interested in ogling Steve’s sidepiece. “Though I guess I could use you, for a change. Your name could be impressive enough for some schmucks to donate to the center.”

“Tell them you’re mine and they’ll fund you three centers.” Steve said it so casually, without any hint of cockiness. In his eyes, it was a simple truth.

“I’m not yours,” you hissed, more annoyed at the heat you felt creeping over your skin.

At that Steve smirked.

He released your chin and stood up. He didn’t even counter your claim, as if it was the most pitiful lie that didn’t require any argument because neither of you believed it.

He stole one macaroon before leaving your office.

You quickly stuffed your mouth with the only macaroon left, in case he would take that away from you, too. Then you returned your gaze to the project document. Suddenly, with the prospect of potential donors, you felt a new wave of energy and motivation to write it all out.

You clung to the claim that it was the same motivation filling you with excited lightness as you donned on a beautiful evening dress three weeks later. Adamant on enjoying the fancy party and working for the center’s goals, you pushed away the nagging thoughts of going there as Steve’s wife.

Not that you thought anyone would be interested in that, anyway. You weren’t a famous socialite, or a model, and you considered Steve to be terrifying enough that no one would imagine him getting married. Much less gossiping about it.

The smaller argument you weaved - about you not even matching your outfits, ergo no one would recognize you as a couple - died the moment you descended the stairs to where Steve was already waiting for you.

The only time he wore a suit was at your wedding. His usual style was rougher, more practical and intimidating. A jagged chunk of volcanic rock, still pulsing with burning lava. So it was quite shocking to see him in a dark blue two piece that was cut so perfectly that his broad shoulders and tapered waist seemed more prominently outlined than when he wore jeans and tight shirts.

The shade of his suit was dark enough to hold that dangerous, intimidating aura, but the shiny blue hue matched your choice of dress perfectly.

He was the night sky to your moon glow.

Steve didn’t mask the hunger in his eyes as he looked at you. Though you were thankful he didn’t utter anything about not making it to the gala, because he wanted to sate that hunger.

He did, however, order you to turn around; with that rough, low voice that had your clit tingling. Despite the vow you made to yourself two months ago, to not so easily comply with his commands, you did as asked. You found yourself staring at your reflection in the large mirror in the entryway, your body heating up from the sudden lewd imagery of what could happen if Steve put his hands on you. Would he make you watch as he…

His ice blue eyes sparked a dark satisfaction, undoubtedly reading your body well enough to suspect where your thoughts have wandered.

But he didn’t mock you. Instead, his touch was a gentle brush that evoked goosebumps as he placed something shiny and heavy on your chest.

He clasped the white gold necklace at the back of your neck as you stared at the incredible rock nestled in a cushion of diamonds that were so crystal white they appeared to be frosty snow.

The rock in the middle was a hue of sundown orange, mostly transparent, but with a flame encapsulated within. Like the heart of a star.

“Once upon a time,” Steve’s fingers trailed over your exposed collarbones and down along the delicate chain of the necklace. “There were six rarest jewels in the world. Called the infinity stones.”

Memory of Batroc asking about them flashed in your mind and you held your breath.

The rumors were true, then. Steve was the ghost from the legend, who tore through the Greek magnate’s citadel and stole the rarest gems, without leaving a trace. If this was one of them, were the rest nestled in the rings on his fingers like you presumed once before?

“This one is called the soul stone.” Steve traced the outline of the pendant with his fingertip, dipping it into the valley between your breasts. Your nipples hardened instantly.

“Fitting, since you’re the devil who stole mine,” your retort had no bite. Not with how breathless you sounded.

Steve chuckled, slipping his hand over your breast and lower. His fingers splayed across your belly as he pressed closer against you. His breath was a warm tickle on your skin as he brushed his lips along the column of your throat.

“I stole more than that, haven’t I, Princess?” He smirked at the flash of fear in your eyes, which dissolved into stubborn defiance.

“Yes. My peace and chance at happiness.” You glared at him in the mirror. Which didn’t dent his amusement.

With a chuckle, Steve kissed your neck then scraped his teeth over the spot. Thankfully, not hard enough to leave any evidence, but making your pussy clench.

You scurried away towards the exit, before he decided to humiliate you by leaving a hickey that anyone could see.

You tried not to show how Steve’s touch on your lower back affected you, neither on your way to the car, nor when you entered the lavish gala at the Stark Tower. You doused the warmth of comfort with a flute of champagne when Steve spent the first solid hour keeping you at his side and introducing you to various people. As his wife.

It was only after you two returned to the main hostess and Tony’s wife, Pepper, who greeted you at the entrance and then smoothly roped you into a social conversation, that Steve murmured something about attending to business.

He left you with a brief kiss to your cheek and a brush of his fingers sliding from the small of your back over your ass. Unapologetic about doing it publicly.

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at his retreating form.

“Ah, newlyweds.” Next to you, Pepper let a dramatically dreamy sigh.

Your gaze shifted to her, only to notice she was most amused. Unlike some of the women whom you were introduced to, she didn’t look at you with envy or disdain. Which had annoyed you, because really there was nothing to be jealous of. Well, mindblowing sex perhaps. But that was it. Nothing more.

If they wanted Steve so much, you’d happily give him away. If he only let you.

Pepper seemed genuine in her friendly approach, witty responses and warmth. The only flaw you found in her so far was the fact she was friendly with Steve, too.

Not overtly, in a way betraying carnal interest, or former relationship (which you sensed from a few other women at the banquet). But the platonic friendliness toward someone like Steve was alarming in itself.

“Oh yeah,” you snorted, lifting your glass of champagne to your lips, “I’m sooo head over heels for him.”

Pepper’s laugh was soft and tinkling like velvet bells. Nothing fake, or annoying in the sound of it. Quite the opposite, you were surprised how it put you at ease after mingling with people who wore fake politeness like a family crest.

Crinkles appeared in the corners of her eyes as she looked at you and you couldn’t help but respond with your own grin.

“People often mistake my sunny disposition for naivety. They're very wrong.” Pepper said, taking a sip of her strawberry gin & tonic.

“I know you didn't marry Steve out of love.” She stated bluntly, without judgment or conspiratory whispering. “But watching you two, some things are unmistakable.”

She lifted her left shoulder in a shrug, sparkling amusement in her eyes turning into a knowing look. Your heart halted before setting in a slightly panicked flutter.

There were little moments when you felt certain cracks in your hard hateful shell, but you hoped that you managed to quickly hide them behind walls and under a mask. You didn’t want Steve finding more of your weaknesses. It was even worse, if someone else saw them.

Pepper barely met you and if she noticed how comfortable you felt at times beside Steve (when you forgot to remember you’re supposed to hate him and be disgusted by his touch), then the bastard must have been aware of them, too. Crap.

Still, you arched your brow as if you had no idea what she was implying. Pepper’s amusement deepened, she wasn’t buying your cluelessness.

“There may not be romantic affection, but he sure gives you attention.” She said, angling her body so you stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the grand ballroom.

Before you snorted that you’d rather never have drawn Steve’s attention, she vaguely pointed at the room full of people. Expensive suits and dresses worth more than your half year salary, diamonds dripping, chests puffed. Women polished to perfection glued to the side of their men, sweet smiles offered on painted lips.

“That's something only very few women here experience. It’s rare.” There was a hint of disappointment in her tone, but you doubted it had to do with her own relationship.

Tony Stark was like a hummingbird on energizer and coke - he fleeted from one conversation to the other, growing bored, acting pretentious asshole. He stopped for longer only with a few people. But every half an hour or so, he would search for Pepper and the way his attention zeroed in on her left no room to doubt his love for her.

She grounded him. Gave him a moment to recharge, even as she called him out on some of his antics.

Many of the women at the gala, who accompanied their husbands, or partners, were there as an accessory. Beautiful, adding to the status, but few were even acknowledged by their company.

“I’m not sure having Steve Rogers’ attention is exactly a good thing.” You pointed out.

Everyone here may officially pretend he was a ruthless businessman, while they all knew the bloody truth. He was a mafia boss, a brutal king of the underworld, who wouldn’t blink an eye flaying someone open here in the light of the crystal chandeliers.

No one wanted his attention on them, not really.

“Not for most.” Pepper agreed. “Though some of the women might disagree.”

“Are you talking from experience?” You maintained a neutral, indifferent tone (mostly because you didn’t think there was ever anything between Pepper and Steve); yet there was a tiny flicker of something angry that ignited at the prospect.

It stirred with a growl and clawed out a few times that night, when a few of the women made it obvious they were wet and willing for Steve.

“God, no!” Pepper snorted, pretending to shudder. “I’m not that adventurous.”

“Yeah, bungee jumping without rope might be less of an adrenaline rush than being with him,” you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth tilted in a grin.

“Well, it seems only fair to give back in return. What would perturb the dark overlord?” Pepper pretended to seriously ponder, tapping her finger against her lips.

“I could try setting Bucky on fire.”

Pepper’s laugh resounded with the same melodic chime as previously, but much louder. Not a single fake note, her burst of laughter was real. It enticed your own laugh to bubble out; both of you falling into a fit of giggles behind your drink glasses.

You drew the attention of many people, who either watched you with suspicion, or glared offended. You didn’t care. And when your gaze connected with Steve’s, who looked your way from the other side of the room while some men were babbling next to him, you didn’t even pretend to be gloomy.

“Now that was the height of entertainment tonight.” Pepper looped her arm around yours, still smiling brilliantly ear to ear. “For me, at least. Now, how to repay you for that? I can tell you all the spicy gossip. We could get drunk and no one would dare to say anything to either me or you.”

“Not gossip, but information.” You finished your champagne and reached for another flute as a waiter passed by. “I need to know more about this swamp my so-called husband treads through. And I need to milk some of them for money for the center.”

“I know just the right people for that,” she nodded with determination and steered you toward the first potential benefactor.

Pepper’s company was a wonderful balm and entertainment rolled into one. She was a graceful hostess, smart and perceptive professional, but also a bubbly imp who didn’t spare you the details about some sordid affairs.

Though she could excuse herself with her duties, she stuck with you the entire time. She also managed not to smirk at your glower when she pointed at three women who have in the past fucked Steve.

However, her smile turned mischievous as she spotted someone over your shoulder. She reminded you of the lunch date in three days that you happily agreed to, then smoothly glided away before you managed to properly say goodbye.

Words stuck in your throat as you felt the familiar solid warmth at your back. Steve’s shadow cast over you first, then his heat and scent engulfed you. Like a mythological fate, always reaching its grasp for the heroine, no matter the hard fight towards the light, your personal devil softly pulled you back into his clutches.

His hand touched your back and he spun you around.

“Having fun, Princess?” He looked down at you.

Icy blade of his gaze cut down men bigger than life, but, despite the first instinctive flash of fear, you felt it slicing through the layers of your clothes and defences.

Plate by plate, you quickly reinforced your shell, to at least endure a few hours more before Steve got under your skin again.

And into your cunt, because with his hot looks and your four glasses of champagne that was inevitable.

“I don’t think parties of this kind are meant to have fun.” You scrunched up your nose. “But I managed to sway some rich snobs to potentially fund that educational project for the center. Leon Stavros seems keen to donate half the sum.”

You announced with a proud tilt of your chin and a smile. Tame enough to not share the actual happiness you felt with Steve. You wanted to boast about your little success, but you had to remember that he was the bane of your existence.

Steve’s hand on your back settled heavier, while his other slid along your arm. He took your hand in his, outstretched your joined arms and in a single move swept you onto the dancefloor.

“You’ll have to use his money for a different project.” He continued your conversation as he led you across the floor. “The psychoeducation and resources for caretakers project is already fully funded.”

It took you a moment for his words to register, because you were still scrambling to catch up with the fact that a heartbeat ago you were standing off to the side and now you were dancing across the ballroom.

It was truly mind boggling that your psychopath husband was a damn good dancer.

“What? Who?” You blinked, when it finally dawned on you what he said. You even cast a glance around, wondering who managed to deliver the funds so quickly.

Something sharp pierced through your chest as you realized there was only one person who knew before everyone else and could fund a project with a single transfer. Your gaze flicked back to Steve’s handsome face.

“Steve…”

Heaviness of the situation turned worse by the second, because he wasn’t showing that smug, triumphant look, which would at least remind you to hate him.

“You were determined to get that project running.” Steve replied easily. There was no affectionate passion in his next words, but still they chipped at the walls protecting you - “What you want, you get.”

“Thank you.” At the moment you didn’t know how else to respond. How to treat this gift.

You could think of it as his manipulation to get you further into his sticky web, but he already had you at his mercy on all accounts. No, it flashed too much thoughtfulness.

To preserve the comfortable setting of animosity, you asked cheekily - “What if I want a divorce?”

You were determined to keep asking for a divorce every chance you got. Officially, you believed it was because you wanted out of this fucked up marriage. Secretly, you were thrilled with the various ways Steve responded to that demand.

“Then-” he pulled you even closer, his cheek brushing yours as he leaned down to whisper into your ear- “you get a fucking so hard, any silly ideas drip out of you permanently.”

Steve delivered on the hard fucking, even though you haven’t mentioned divorce again that night.

You blamed the champagne and happiness at having your project funded for making you sit so close to him in the car on your way back from the gala, rubbing your heated body against him with unrestrained need. Steve was merciful enough to not wait it out until you lost the battle with your own will and initiated sex yourself, but instead dragged you over his lap, rolled up your dress and fingered you into a dripping, screaming puddle before you made it home.

Then he took you hard, in front of that fucking mirror in the hall. With you completely naked, wearing only the necklace and watching yourself give in to the monster completely.

You nearly passed out when he fucked you again in bed. Your almost unconscious state didn’t stop Steve from using you thoroughly and then spilling thick ropes of white cum all over your body, white drops landing around the jewel sparkling on your chest.

Though your body was wonderfully blissed out each time you and Steve had sex - which was becoming an almost daily thing - you still refused to use the blissful adjective to describe your marriage. Or any positive adjective, for that matter. Even as the comfort of sitting next to him or sharing meals increased; or how he casually draped your legs over his lap, massaging your calves while he typed murderous decrees on his phone.

The word domestic echoed in your head often, but you drowned it in screams of his victims, gunshots, Steve’s cold and sinister commands.

You shouldn’t feel at ease and comfortable around the devil who kept you chained to him. You gave yourself a pass for enjoying mindmelting orgasms, it was a small reward for your suffering, but you wouldn’t let yourself get accustomed to being a wife. Not to Steve.

So you pretended to be only mildly annoyed when he strolled into your office one day, bringing lunch as if he was a normal loving spouse, and announcing that you’ll be hosting a dinner at home. For the mayor and his wife. To his credit, Steve didn’t imply you had to be the one preparing said dinner. Having a chef was another benefit of your doom. But the expectation of playing the sweet wife and hostess to the corrupted pair of a politician and socialite made your blood boil.

Or maybe it was the fact that mayor’s wife was one of the few women Pepper confirmed to have been fucking Steve in the past.

No, you told yourself as you put on the soul stone necklace when preparing for said dinner. You didn’t care who he sank his cock into. You didn’t care, if he returned to that and left you in peace.

But your conviction shattered to sharp, jagged pieces when mayor’s wife made obvious moves at your husband, with her own fucking husband sitting right there at the table!

You were appalled. By her rudeness, of course.

Mayor played a clueless idiot, probably too scared of Steve to fight for honor. Or maybe he was actually gaining something from having his wife almost drop to her knees and swallow Steve’s cock whole. You played indifference, because why should you care?

So maybe your knife and fork scraped against the plate so loud that everyone at the table cringed in pain, when the mayor’s wife briefly touched Steve’s arm and mentioned missing their passionate art discussions. It was nothing. Just a spasm in your hand. And you gulping down half of your wine glass all unladylike was because you needed to soothe an itch in your throat, not because the floozy licked her lips and made a suggestion Steve should go with her to the new exhibition.

Though Steve hadn’t replied to Miliana’s advances, focusing on the not so subtle business talk with her husband, he didn’t refuse her either. Which made you want to reach for the knife he had custom made for you and stab him with it, when later that night he had the audacity to touch you.

Steve merely chuckled, absolutely amused. Mockingly asked if you were jealous. Which you were not!

Tension slowly dropped after that, as days passed and you haven’t seen that skank’s face. Unexpectedly, however, the mayor requested an official visit to the center. It was a short one, a half an hour so the press could write about his interest in healthcare and supporting new community focused projects. You also suspected he wanted to kiss Steve’s ass.

You didn’t have a reason to deny him, especially since the press would also mention the center and new projects, which would be helpful. It was even better, because he came only with some of his office staff, no wife at his side.

But then, just as you were breathing in relief that the circus was almost over, the mayor had the balls to invite himself over to your house for dinner the upcoming weekend.

In true political bullshit manipulation, saying how his wife loved your chef’s scallops and couldn’t wait to taste them again and how your house provided comfort to talk business with your husband.

At this point, you were wondering if the slimy asshole was a cuckold.

He was bending backwards just to give his own wife an opportunity to touch your fucking husband. Maybe he really was into that. Maybe he wanted to watch. Maybe you should’ve vomited when you relayed the request to Steve and he shrugged that he’s free Saturday evening: if the greedy idiot wants to crawl begging for more scraps.

Your appetite evaporated, as you spent days fuming at the prospect of another weird dinner when a shameless woman would be drooling after Steve while you were sitting there right opposite of her, in your own damn home.

No, this time you wouldn’t stand for it. You would make Miliana associate your house with something most unpleasant. And a small vial stolen from one of the medicine cabinets at the center was going to help you with that.

It was surprisingly easy, really. It should shock you how calm you were as you prepared for the dinner; how a soft smile graced your lips as you set the table while the chef prepared delicious food. But now that determination guided your hand through the plan, earlier fiery aggravation melted away.

Briefly, you wondered if the same calm took over Steve when he took lives.

You shook that thought away, since you weren’t attempting to kill anyone. Though when a memory of her hand on Steve’s arm flashed in your mind, your fingers itched to grab a knife.

Applying a little drop to the bottom of a crystal glass and another on the rim, smearing it along, you felt an odd kind of satisfaction unfurl in your chest. There was no hesitation, no worry about potential mix-up. No, you were certain Miliana would once again seat on Steve’s left. Just like the last time. It was cunning, since it appeared all innocent - her sitting on her husband’s right, just you were sitting on your husband’s right, the men facing each other.

Your smile widened when the couple entered your dining room and sat exactly like you predicted. Politely fake conversation flew as the chef brought out first dish and his assistant poured wine into glasses.

The scallops tasted even more delicious, in your opinion. Especially when after a few sips of wine the mayor’s wife had to quickly excuse herself to the bathroom.

Few minutes later the mayor’s phone vibrated, which led to him frowning at the screen and excusing himself as well - undoubtedly to aid his wife. When he walked back into the dining room a while later, he looked nervous and embarrassed, paler too.

“My apologies. It appears my wife and I have to leave promptly, it was unplanned, but can’t be avoided.”

You made a sound of worried pity, but continued to cut into your own food and eating it without an ounce of genuine distraught. Steve arched a brow in surprise, but nodded his head, which seemed to bring the mayor immense relief. The man was more scared of offending Steve than for his wife’s health.

It was less than a minute when you heard their car take off from the driveway. The sound of it and the fact they were no longer polluting the space of your home pleased you greatly.

“Mhm, these scallops are really delicious,” you hummed, licking your fork.

“Princess,” Steve tuned the petname in a sing-song tone. “What did you do?”

Slowly, you looked his way. He didn’t seem angry, nor worried. He angled his body towards you, propping one elbow on the table and drumming his fingers in a steady rhythm. He wasn’t asking if it was your doing, he already knew.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t permanently damage one of your mistresses. She’s just gonna spend a day or two glued to the toilet.” You snorted, clenching your fingers around the fork. “But maybe next time she’ll reconsider coming into the house where your wife lives.”

Dark gleam flickered over Steve’s ice blue eyes.

He leaned forward, moving his hands to grip the edge of your chair and yanked it at an angle toward him. Your legs were between his, his hands gripping the sides of your chair, veins protruding in his forearms as his muscles tensed.

“Your possessiveness gets me hard.” He chuckled darkly.

“I’m not possessive!” You objected immediately, crossing your hands over your chest.

“You demanded I marry you, the ruthless fucking king of the underworld. So now you have to deal with having a wife. And your reluctant queen won’t stand for any more humiliation.” You spat the last part, boldly leaning forward and glaring at him with all the accumulated hatred.

“Princess,” Steve inched even closer, not the least bothered by your outburst. Quite the opposite, he appeared to love it. “My dick hasn’t even twitched for any other woman, since I tasted your lips. There’s no pleasure in standing their fake, exaggerated despair, when I have your sweet pussy so responsive to my darkness…”

Your retort died on your tongue when suddenly one of Steve’s hands gripped your chin.

“Now-” he tightened his pinch on your chin, his voice smoothly transforming into a cold warning. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

“Miliana doesn’t have enough spunk and her husband is too much of a scaredy wimp to retaliate in any form.” He showed zero empathy toward them. “But there are eels and sharks swimming around us and some of them would dare to bite back.”

Holding your chin, Steve forced you to lean closer. His breath tickled your mouth as he inched forward, as well.

“And if anyone dared to put a finger on you, it would end in a bloodbath.”

Only Steve could make a psychopathic threat sound like a seductive, velvet vow of a lover.

Your brain screamed that it was wrong, that you should be disgusted by his words and scared of how easily it came to him to take lives. Yet your insides filled with heat, one spreading through your chest and a wave of it pooling low in your abdomen.

“Don’t go on a murder spree, because of some macho obligation.” You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You. Are. Mine, Princess.” Steve punctuated each word with a brush of his lips against yours. “To harm or disrespect you means to hurt or disrespect me. I have no mercy for those. I would cut off the limb, with which they hurt you, and carve out their intestines. Then fuck you while their blood pools at your feet.”

“That’s disgusting,” with how breathy you sounded, your claim felt like a lie.

One that Steve read right away.

“It turns you on.” He chuckled, grinning.

“I know that you get so wet from the scary, unhinged things that I do.” His other hand slapped your knees apart.

“I’m not-” you frowned, ready to deny that as well. Even though your body was already primed for him.

Words went forgotten when Steve picked you in a swift move and deposited you in his lap. The hand on your chin moved to grip the front of your neck; the cool sensation of his rings digging into your soft skin made you gasp. The sound nearly stopped in your throat, because he tightened his grip. And it made your arousal burst stronger.

His right hand ventured between your spread thighs. His fingers easily slipped beneath the flimsy fabric of your underwear and teased your slick folds.

“Soaked.” Steve triumphed, running the ring-adorned knuckle of his index finger up and down between your folds. “Sweet, good-hearted Princess who lives to help people, cumming on her brutal husband’s weapons and cock.”

The mere mention of his thick cock made your pussy pulse. The image of his gun and of the knife sliding along your skin and pressed so close to your most sensitive areas caused a shiver to rock your whole body.

Steve chuckled at your body’s reaction. He laced kisses and licks along your jaw, continuing to tease your cunt.

“As for you wanting to be a queen at my side…” he sucked your earlobe lewdly, making you moan.

“Do you know what a queen’s role is?” He whispered right into your ear before pulling back slightly.

“To stand fierce and unbending beside her king.” He withdrew his hand, kissing your lips when you pouted at the loss of delicious stimulation. Fingers sticky with your slick, he ran his palm up your belly and over your breast. Then to your arm.

“And to give him an heir.”

Steve’s eyes locked with yours as his wet fingers circled your arm, thumb pressing right over where your contraceptive implant was hidden beneath your skin.

“Are you ready for that, Princess?” He asked, rubbing the spot in sinfully slow circles, as he would do your clit. “Are you ready to take out this little implant and let me breed you properly?”

Your brain was too scrambled, even though Steve barely touched you, really. The adrenaline from poisoning a woman who dared to flirt with your husband mixed with desire that the fucker so easily ignited in you.

The unexpected mention of impregnation? In that dark, raw way only your husband dared to speak to you? For a short moment your mind simply stopped working.

“No!” You clenched your eyes, letting the last remnants of reason fight against the threat.

Steve didn’t seem perturbed by your refusal. Perhaps it wasn’t even something he was interested in, just another means to torment you with and make you yield to his command.

“Until then, you remain my Princess.” He declared, cutting off your airflow for a few seconds and taking possession of your mouth.

When he let you breathe again, you felt dizzy and pliant. Your own hands clenched on his shoulders as Steve stood up abruptly. He kicked the chair away and placed you on the dining table.

Plates and wine glasses tumbled over, food and wine spilling across the tablecloth and dripping down on the floor. You felt the sticky wetness soaking into your back as Steve splayed you on the table, but you didn’t care. Not when he was holding you down by your throat with one hand and ripping your soaked underwear with the other.

Then there was the sound of a zipper and Steve’s low, sexy groan as he gripped his hard cock and stroked it a few times.

Steve held your gaze as he tapped his dick against your pulsing clit and then nudged it into your opening. A needy whine vibrated in your throat, tempting the fingers around your neck to squeeze just a tad tighter.

He slammed into you in one stroke; dark victory flamed in his eyes as your body jerked and your pussy clamped around him.

Buried to the hilt, with his hand around your throat and the other holding your leg bent and pressed against your chest, Steve looked down at you. Danger pulsed off of him like a dark aura, reminding you how defenceless you were.

“Don’t ever fucking endanger what’s mine.” He warned.

You glared at him, indignant at being referred to as his. But then he snapped his hips back and into you again, and your ire flowed into brain short-circuiting pleasure.

“My good, depraved Princess.” Steve praised, fucking you hard. “Creaming around my cock so prettily.”

You fisted the tablecloth, mewling as each of his thrust drove you closer to the peak. It was so rough, so raw and based on urges you never considered yourself to have. You hated it. Hated Steve. Hated what he made you into. And you screamed his name as you came.

748 notes · View notes

whoknowsanymore124 · 7 months ago

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I know you prepared me as best you could BUT FUCK YOU SIRI THIS WAS A HAZARD TO MY WELL BEING, HEALTH, AND LIBIDO!!!! THE WAY CURTIS DID SOME EXTRA RESEARCH AND BACKGROUND TO BE EVERYTHING FOE YOU AND THE PERFECT PLAYFUL DOM TYPE 🫠🫠🫠😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🥴🥴🥴😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️ i loved his CU RT15 name, that felt so creative!!! And her not wanting him reset before she got him I was cackling cause DUH!!!! We want a man we have a pre established relationship with!! It was such a sweet backstory too and made me really root for reader. BUT SHE DOESN’T NEED ME ROOTING FOR HER CAUSE SHE’S LIVING THE DREAM CLEARLY!!!! When he said “I know, honey,” in response to her begging I HAD TO DO A LAP AROUND MY ROOM!!!! And now that you have solved the ever present issue of having a breeding kink without the kids YOU CAN TAKE OVER THE WORLD ☺️🙂‍↕️ this was everything and more to me!!!!!!

Acquisition Complete

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4,328 Summary: Now that the renovation on your apartment complex was complete, you had a few ideas about how your favorite Construction Unit bot could continue to fulfill your needs. Warnings: AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. AI!Robot!Curtis. My very limited and mostly made up knowledge of property renovation, property management, and wealth management lol. Vaginal fingering. Praise kink. Manhandling. Soft!dom!Curtis. Unprotected sex. Rough sex. Dirty talk. Cum play.

A/N: Y’all seemed to be frothing for AI!Curtis, so I’m beyond excited to share his first part with you. I hope you like it! Reader certainly did. 😏❤️

SUPERIOR AI MASTERLIST

An emotional kind of pride stirred within you as you watched the Gilliam’s Garden Apartments sign go up in the middle of the beautifully landscaped courtyard.

The courtyard sat in the center of the paved oval walkway that connected the four 12-unit buildings that made up the renovated apartment complex.

The renovation had been your baby over the past 18 months, and more so, it had been the perfect thing to focus on after Gilliam’s death.

The perfect way to honor him and all the good he had done for Piercer Park.

Despite the way Gilliam had started out as poor as you had been up until a decade ago, he had made something of himself, and even though he had amassed a great fortune for all his hard work, Gilliam had never forgotten where he came from.

Even in death, he wanted to make sure that his fortune was put to good use and continued to help revitalize the impoverished Chicago neighborhoods that needed it most.

That he had so dearly loved.

Which is why he had named you as the benefactor of his fortune and estate. Why he had left a sort of philanthropic bucket list for you to fulfill in his stead.

After all, it was Gilliam’s personal mentorship and father-like love for you that had secured your bright future.

He had helped you launch your successful career as a wealth management advisor, being your very first client and recommending your services to other wealthy philanthropists over the years.

You owed him everything, and he must have known that you–more than anyone–would carry on his legacy of rebuilding the city he had loved, one neighborhood at a time, while advocating for those who needed it most.

“You’re not gonna get all weepy on me, are ya?”

You turned at the sound of Tanya’s voice, laughing at her wary look as she watched you swipe away a tear that had escaped. “I’ll try not to.”

“You haven’t even seen the rooftop garden and greenhouse yet,” she huffed, but the look in her eyes was fond as she watched you bounce in place beside her.

“I swear the rooftop area is my favorite,” you gushed. “Recreation space and additional resources for tenants! They’ll be able to grow their own food and herbs. No other building in the neighborhood has anything like it.”

“You don’t need to tell me, I helped build the thing,” Tanya smirked, smoothing a hand over her gray polo shirt, before it fell to her curved hip.

You eyed the Forewoman stitching on the left breast of her shirt, feeling another bout of emotional pride well up within you.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” you said earnestly.

“Don’t I know it.”

“No, Tanya, truly,” you reached for her, your eyes shining as you took her hands in yours and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Thank you so much for all your hard work and guidance.”

Despite her gentle scoff, Tanya gave your hands a reciprocal squeeze before pulling away. “Put a plug in the melodrama, girl, you’re gonna overwhelm the AIs.”

Laughing, you shook your head at her before glancing around, watching as the Construction Unit robots went about their work diligently.

They wore the same uniform as Tanya: a gray polo and khaki pants, work boots and hard hats, too, but unlike the human forewoman, they all had on reflective yellow and orange vests to denote their designation as CUs.

Your eyes lingered on one CU in particular before Tanya’s voice regained your attention.

“Here,” she held out a simple white envelope. “It’s a check for first month’s rent and my deposit.”

You beamed at her as you accepted her offering, another wave of excitement washing through you as you safely tucked the envelope into your purse. “Thank you. You’re my first official tenant! Well, besides myself. My realtor will be posting the listings online later this week.”

“You know you could be charging four times what you are for these apartments.”

“I know, but I won’t.”

Tanya’s smile was warm as she shook her head at you. “Gilliam’s protege through and through.”

It was your turn to playfully scoff. “Talk about throwing stones at a glass house.” You nudged her with your elbow as you both watched the activity around the courtyard.

CUs were finishing up the landscaping around each of the building entrances and installing outdoor lights on either side of each main doorway.

“He’d be very proud of you,” Tanya’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

You glanced over at her, smiling. “He’d be very proud of us. We did this together, and I wasn’t his only mentee,” you gave her another gentle nudge.

Tanya’s gaze went a little distant, her lips curling at the corners. “I still don’t know what he saw in me, a young single mother with barely a dime to her name and no hard skills to speak of.”

“And now you have your own construction company and you’re booked out for the next three years,” you crowed.

“Yeah, to help you complete Gilliam’s Dogooder’s Bucket List, not that I’m complaining.”

“He sure did leave a lot of work for us,” you laughed.

“He did, but it was worth it. I can’t believe this used to be Everett Apartments,” Tanya sounded amazed as she glanced around at the four beautiful buildings surrounding you. “It looks nothing like it used to. Gilliam wouldn’t even recognize his childhood home.”

“But in a good way.”

“Well, we should be cleared out by the end of the week, and then it’s on to the next revitalization a few blocks away,” Tanya told you. “Now Piercer Park really will be up and coming. Finally.”

You hummed in agreement, your gaze once again drawn to a certain Construction Unit AI.

He was tall and lean, his shoulders broad and his body firmly built. His skin was ivory, his handsome face covered in a dark beard that you knew matched the short buzzed hair beneath his hard hat. His ice blue eyes–a color unlike anything you had ever seen before–were twinkling as Timmy, Tanya’s 10-year-old son, hung off his arm and seemed to be pleading with the AI for something.

You watched as CU RT15 shook his head fondly before allowing Timmy to lead him a few feet away. Then he was crouching down to the boy’s height, his face going very serious before his eyes suddenly glowed ruby red.

Timmy squealed his delight. “Just like Superman! Do green now, do green!”

A beat later, the CU’s eyes turned bright green, and Timmy shouted with laughter, clapping in glee.

Your belly swooped as you watched the endearing sight, and it just solidified the idea that had been haunting your mind for the past month or so.

“Hey, Tanya?” you turned to your friend. “Can I ask a favor?”

Tanya pulled her amused gaze from Timmy to meet yours. “Always.”

“That CU,” you thumbed over your shoulder toward Timmy and CU RT15, “Can I purchase him from you once this job is done?”

Tanya’s eyebrows hiked. “Why?”

You felt your face heat, your gaze falling away as you tucked your hands into the pockets of your jacket and shrugged. “Well, I’ve been thinking, I’ll need an on site maintenance supervisor and general handyman for the building, and he knows it better than anyone and…I dunno, he’s grown on me.”

Tanya hummed, quiet for a moment as she continued to watch the CU entertain her son, who was off from school today.

“It sure is something how some of them develop real personalities, huh?” She chuckled before returning her gaze to you. “That one’s stoic but gentle. Has a soft spot for kids and the elderly, I’ve seen it myself.”

She watched as you continued to avoid her gaze and stare at the ground.

Smirking, her voice was sly as she asked, “A super? Really? Is that the only reason you want him?”

“The only reason I’m willing to talk about,” you huffed, barely suppressing the urge to stick your tongue out at your friend and her annoying way of always being able to read you.

Tanya laughed. “He’s yours then. I’ll do a hard reset on him and hand him over before I clear out at the end of the week and then email you an invoice over the weekend.”

“Actually,” you finally glanced up, meeting her gaze. “Don’t hard reset him. I don’t want him wiped. He knows the history and intricacies of the property, and he knows me and…I want to keep him him.”

Eyes twinkling, Tanya shrugged. “Sure. I’ll just set you as the new primary user then, and you can update his programming and operating system however you want.”

Feeling your belly flutter, you bit back the huge smile dying to break free, instead offering a quiet, “Thanks.”

Shooting one more glance at the CU, you shook yourself, clapping your hands together as you asked Tanya to, “Show me the rooftop garden and greenhouse next?!”

God, you couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

He was yours now.

The Construction Unit AI you had grown so fond of over the past 18 months.

That you had fantasized about countless times as you lay tucked away in your bed late at night, all on your lonesome.

But not anymore.

Taking a sip from your wine glass, you watched him over the brim, feeling the liquor settle warm in your fluttering belly as you set the glass aside and moved closer to the AI.

He looked so much bigger up close and standing in the middle of your living room.

Your new 2-bedroom apartment still had a few stray moving boxes that needed unpacking, but you had gotten all of the furniture set up at least. Your living room had a warm, inviting ambiance to it as the tableside lamps glowed at either end of the sofa, and the pulled shades blocked the light from the streetlamps outside.

“Confirm name change?” you spoke softly as you circled around the AI and stood before him, your eyes lifting to meet his curious gaze.

“My former name, Construction Unit RT15, has now been updated to Curtis Everett.”

You smiled, something in your chest fluttering as you heard him speak the name you had picked out for him weeks ago in that deep, baritone voice of his.

“Excellent,” you praised, your gaze dipping to the way his blue and green flannel stretched over the width of his chest. “And confirm your new primary uses for me, please?”

“To maintain the safety and integrity of this property, to fulfill any maintenance requests as needed by you and its tenants, and to satisfy your every personal need,” Curtis dutifully recited. “As requested, I’ve bookmarked the building schematics on my hard drive to keep them top of mind should they be needed.”

You hummed, impressed, your gaze drifting lower to the way Curtis’ worn jeans tightly hugged his strong thighs. Your fingers itched to touch him. To feel his warmth and strength beneath your fingers at last.

It didn’t matter that he was an AI, to you, he was your dream man, and now he finally stood here before you, looking as human as any other man you’d ever interacted with, and ready and waiting to take care of your every need.

Head cocking to the side, Curtis observed aloud, “You’ve also updated my programming to enable some new features and support initiatives beyond the default Construction Unit parameters.”

“I have,” you replied, your gaze snapping up to meet his.

Something about the curiosity in his gaze–like he wasn’t expecting you to need or want him beyond a construction unit capacity–finally had you snapping.

Curtis grunted in surprise as you pushed him down into a sit on the sofa. The soft, primal sound went straight to your pussy, and you were already wet as you shrugged off the short, satin robe you had been wearing to cover your naked body.

He didn’t question the way you immediately straddled his lap, pressing your naked body flush to his still fully dressed one as your hands slid up his chest to grip his shoulders.

“It’s time for you to take care of me, Curtis. To satisfy my every need.” Your breath hitched as you met his surprisingly darker than before gaze. You felt your nipples tighten, the hard little buds aching now as you shifted closer to him. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” he murmured without hesitation. His eyes flickered over your face, drinking in your lustful look, before his gaze descended to your bare body. “You’re very beautiful.”

His genuine observation had your pussy clenching around nothing, and your voice was breathless as you whispered, “Tell me you want me.”

Curtis’ eyes snapped back up to yours, lit with a hungry kind of fire you hadn’t expected from an AI but were ecstatic to be on the receiving end of all the same. “I do,” he husked, “I do want you.”

Your next breath left you in a shuddering exhale, and you couldn’t resist as you slid one hand down Curti’s body to cup the erection straining at the front of his jeans. “I believe you.”

You gave him a squeeze, delighted as he groaned in response and rutted up into your touch.

Leaning in close, your words were a whisper against Curtis’ parted lips as you said, “Kiss me like you’ve been dreaming of your lips on mine for months.”

He watched you for a beat, his head cocking just slightly, eyes going distant before refocusing on you and shimmering with knowing now.

“What?” you breathed.

“I was just reviewing your primary user questionnaire data, all of your preferences and permissions, as well as your more intimate browser history, to learn how to best please you.”

You felt a tiny bit of embarrassment start to lap at you, but it was quickly squashed by the way Curtis reached out and firmly gripped your neck in one of his big hands. His eyes glittered as your own went wide, and he reeled you in as close as possible, his lips just hovering over yours before he tilted his head and reared up to kiss you breathless.

A sharp gasp spilled from your lips to his, and he swallowed it down with a throaty hum as his mouth worked against yours in a way that was like passion incarnate. Moaning, you sagged against him, fingers curling and digging into Curtis’ shoulders as his big, warm hands framed your hips then rounded your back, slowly smoothing up the bare expanse of your skin.

He wasn’t shy as he kissed you, he wasn’t unsure at all, he was as confident a kisser as you had ever experienced, the best you had ever experienced in fact, and you could only try your best to keep up with the addictive onslaught of his mouth, and the way your body prickled all over when Curtis’ tongue touched yours.

Eventually, you had to pull away to catch your breath, and only then did you realize the wanton way your hips were gently rocking against Curtis’ bulge. You moaned at the friction, shivering as Curtis’ touch continued to light your body on fire as he mapped every inch of you he could touch, learning all the dips and valleys of your figure.

Your breath caught when his hand touched your belly, warming your skin for a beat as his dark gaze met yours, and then his touch drifted lower, his fingers teasing along your slit.

“This is what you want?” he asked.

“God, yes,” you breathed, rocking your hips in encouragement. “Touch me. Fuck me. Make me feel good. Make me cum. Make me yours.”

Curtis’ gaze was avid as his fingers teased along your clit, cataloguing each and every one of your reactions and needy sounds as he played with your cunt.

When he finally sank two of his long, thick fingers inside of you, you groaned, dropping your head back as your mouth fell open and you rocked against his hand, desperate for more.

“Feel good?” he asked, leaning forward to trail his lips up the length of your throat.

“So good, don’t stop,” you pleaded.

Humming, Curtis pressed his lips against your neck as he began to fuck you with his fingers, keeping his strokes firm and deep and earning a soft cry or blissful keen from you each time his touch plunged back inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as he shoved his fingers deep, cupping your cunt and grinding the heel of his hand against your throbbing clit, making your body light up in response.

Curtis’ free hand gripped the back of your neck, angling your face closer to his, so your dazed gaze could meet his own as he continued to rail you with his fingers and grind against your clit.

“Cum for me,” he commanded, rocking his hand harder, the wet squelching sounds of your messy pussy rising up around you both.

Your body obeyed his command, your pussy fluttering wildly around his fingers as you came hard. Bucking against his touch, you lost yourself to your pleasure, your head falling back and your cunt going wild at Curtis’ next words.

“Good girl.”

Moaning, you sagged against Curtis as your orgasm faded, your body still trembling with stray aftershocks as you struggled to catch your breath.

He nuzzled along your hairline, his fingers still tucked deep in your cunt as his free hand gently smoothed up and down your back.

Once your heart rate was nearly normal again, Curtis’ lips touched the shell of your ear, his voice a throaty rumble as he asked, “Do you want my cock next?”

You shivered, your pussy clenching around his fingers and making him laugh against your ear.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You lifted your face from his shoulder, eyes wide with surprise as you met his watchful gaze. “You’re teasing me?”

“According to your preferences, as well as your reading and viewing habits, you seem to favor a more playful, dominant, and confident personality type. Should I walk back those traits?”

“No!” you rejected his offer so quickly, he smirked at you. “You’re right, I do favor them.” Leaning closer, you touched his beardy cheek. “Continue to be as perfect for me as possible.”

“As you wish,” Curtis murmured before kissing you hard.

You moaned as he licked his way into your mouth without preamble, drinking from you like he was the thirstiest non-man in existence. Once he had you desperately gasping for breath again, he retreated, his eyes sparkling and his nostrils flaring as he watched you for a long beat.

Then he moved so quickly, you squealed in alarm. By the time you regained your bearings, Curtis had you ass up, face down on the sofa, his body shoving between your legs as you heard the metallic drag of his zipper descending.

When you tried to glance over your shoulder at him, he gripped your nape firmly, a quiet, “No,” falling from his lips as he guided your head back down and your pussy fluttered wildly in response to his dominance.

He didn’t even undress all the way, just fished his big, hard cock from his jeans and shifted closer to you. You gasped as you felt the head of his length touch your messy folds, biting your lip as you spread your legs wider in invitation and shifted back against him.

“Look at how eager you are for it,” Curtis teased.

Moaning at his words, you pressed your face into the throw pillow beneath you, hyper aware of the way your pussy was weeping an endless river of arousal now.

“You’ve been waiting months and months for this, huh? To have this pretty pussy filled with my cock.”

“God, yes,” you whined, shoving back against him. “Please. Please fuck me. I want it so bad.”

“Oh, I know you do, honey,” Curtis hummed as he dragged his cock up and down your slit.

Your belly fluttered at the pet name, but you didn’t have long to dwell on it, because between one breath and the next, Curtis was lining himself up and slowly pushing into you.

“Ohhh my god,” you whined, reveling in the way his hard, thick cock stretched your pussy to the brink of too much. “Fuck.”

Curtis groaned as he settled inside of you to the hilt. One of his hands gripped your waist hard, the other smoothing up the length of your spine before collaring the back of your neck.

“Does it feel good for you, too?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you felt yourself clench around Curtis’ cock.

“It does,” Curtis gritted, giving a small rut that had you keening. “I’m outfitted with pleasure sensors for more intimate activities and support, and you’re lighting up each and every one of them.”

He groaned as he slowly pulled out of you, until just the tip of his cock filled your needy hole, and then he thrusted back into you hard and deep. You squealed at the delicious intrusion, your mouth hanging open as Curtis’ grip on your neck tightened and he started to fuck you with hard, deep thrusts.

“This is how you want it, right? You like it rough?” he asked, pausing just long enough for you to consent.

“Yes! God yes, I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. Fuck me, really fuck me. I wanna feel you for days.”

“Oh, you will,” Curtis promised, and then he really went at you.

You gasped as he drove into you hard, jerking your body forward with the force of it before he was retreating and doing it all over again. Moaning as the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room–along with the loud, messy squelches of your pussy–you could only take it as Curtis roughly pounded into you without relent.

Each and every thought in your mind evaporated one by one the more he went at you, and all you could focus on was the pleasure he was giving you, the way you had never felt so full, so good.

When he tilted your hips just so before plunging into you again, you keened long and loud, the new angle hitting that spot that lit your body up from the inside out just right.

“Yeah, there you go, let it feel good,” Curtis rasped as he fucked you faster. “You’re taking me so well, honey, this pussy was made to be filled and fucked by my cock.”

“Curtis,” you gasped his name as his hand strayed from your hip to your belly before his long fingers were swirling around your clit. “Oh, god, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

He did the opposite, his hips pistoning harder, making your new sofa squeak and rock as he rutted into your soft body over and over again. His fingers worked magic against the point of your pleasure until your orgasm was hitting you like a freight train and you were screaming in ecstasy as you clenched and pulsed around his cock.

“Mmmm, there you go, ride it out,” Curtis breathed against your ear, his body folding over your back and pressing flush against you as he continued to pound into you. “Bet you can give me one more,” he husked, his fingers rubbing at your clit now.

“I can’t–” you choked on your denial, mewling as another orgasm tore through you.

Your body trembled with the force it, your vision whiting out as you gasped and keened before finally collapsing against the sofa completely.

Curtis followed your descent, grunting like an animal as he chased his own release–which he genuinely seemed to need–and then he groaned loudly as his climax hit and he shoved into you hard and to the hilt.

You could feel his cock throb and pulse inside of you, the warmth of his release flooding your insides and making you moan as you squirmed beneath his heavy weight, pleasantly surprised that he could actually cum and he was doing so right now, pumping you full of him and making your pussy clench and flutter and milk him dry.

Curtis remained curled over you, not struggling in the least to hold his big body up. He wasn’t panting for breath like you either, but he was gently massaging your shoulders and caressing along your back as he finally eased himself up and away from you.

Deliriously well fucked, and covered in sweat, you groaned as you rolled onto your back and collapsed against the sofa. Your lips were curled in satisfaction as you watched Curtis watch you, unabashed as his still-hard cock jutted free from his jeans and shined with your juices.

You couldn’t help it as you spread your legs and trailed your fingers between them, scooping up the cum that had just trickled out of your cunt and raising your fingers to inspect it.

“It looks and feels so real,” you observed, your eyes meeting Curtis’ as you sucked your fingers into your mouth before pulling them free. “Tastes real too.”

He grinned at you, and it was boyish and beautiful and had your belly somersaulting as your chest fluttered.

“My hardware was crafted to mimic the biological functions of a real man as closely as possible,” he explained. “Except for the ability to reproduce, of course.”

“Of course.” Your gaze trailed lower, and you grinned at Curtis’ still hard state. “Looks like you have very good stamina, too.” You shamelessly spread your legs wider, crooking a finger at him to gesture him closer. “Which I’m more than happy to take advantage of.”

Grinning as he crawled over you, Curtis replied, “It’s not taking advantage because I’m meant to satisfy your every need.” His gaze met yours as he slid a hand up your inner thigh and slotted himself between your legs. “And I will.”

lollll the way I was not prepared for this degree of filth on their first go lolol. But they got what they wanted, that’s for sure.

Please take a moment to drop me your thoughts (or thots??) and feedback!! Thank you! ❤️

—

360 notes · View notes

whoknowsanymore124 · 7 months ago

Text

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 i am unfairly turned on!!!!

Knight in designer armour

Dom!Ransom Drysdale x submissive female reader

Ruby Garden Series

Serviced With a Ruby Smile masterlist

summary: Ransom was a man very easy on the eyes, but you never allowed yourself to even entertain the thought of the two of you together in any capacity; not even for a single scene. Mostly because he was much younger than you. Also, you didn't think you'd be able to satisfy his pristine, high class tastes. So it was quite shocking when you found yourself easily following his command in most unexpected circumstances.

warnings: BDSM; safe, safe and consensual; risk aware consensual kink; Dom!Ransom; D/s dynamic; younger man/older female; power exchange; service submissiveness; praise kink; pet names; light objectification;

Author's Note: After many months, I finally bring you first little glimpse of Dom Ransom and his sub (their masterlist is called Serviced With a Ruby Smile). There's still a lot to their dynamic that is under construction in my mind 😆 but this particular scene was exactly what I imagined for them from the start ❤️ There's an age gap, but of a small magnitude - Reader is in her 40s (40-45) and Ransom is 30.

Despite having experienced four decades of life, there were still certain things you had trouble grasping and managing. Like queasiness in the face of physical injuries and potential harm. Not only your own, but also witnessed ones.

Ruby Garden was a safe place for exploring one’s sexuality and kinks, but it wasn’t immune to rare drama. Including situations requiring medical attention.

Though, funnily enough, it was never those scenes that screamed potential danger - heavy rope work, knife play, or wax. Quite the contrary, it was seemingly milder scenes, but with submissives more prone to physical reaction. Like fainting from the sensory overload, or due to amalgamate of minor factors, which they forgot to mention to their Dom; like skipping meals during the day, or the beginning of a fever.

Such submissive would get all the help and attention, all the soft care, but then a solid punishment for not informing their Dom of the state of their health prior to getting into a heavy scene.

Which is why you felt double bad for Cherie.

That worry, combined with your usual proneness to anxiety, drowned you under a cold wave. Your heart quickened its pace and your mouth dried as you watched Cherie’s limp body engulfed in Master Ari’s arms. Your own muscles turned into cotton, threatening to give away and topple you to the floor. It was sheer stubbornness to hold control over yourself and wait with any potential fainting until you got safely home.

One foot in front of the other, you told yourself, but your legs didn’t listen. You stayed glued to the spot, the busy reality around you blurring with every second. Nothing drastic happened, you tried reasoning with your overworking brain. Just a minor dizzy spell, surely. No blood, no massacred bodies, really, there was no need for panic attack to settle in.

Your over-worried mind had a different opinion on the matter, unfortunately.

“What an inconvenient drama.” A smooth voice, so detached from any concern, reached you through the anxious bubble.

Startled by his presence, though maybe more surprised by his almost annoyed tone, you turned your head to the side and stared at the familiar face of one of the Doms.

Ransom was one of the many young Dominants in the club, though he strutted with the confidence of a well honed Master. He wasn’t a regular visitor, but rather appeared on a whim (whenever he wasn’t spending his weekends on yachts, at ski resorts, or whatever else rich elite snobs did nowadays, you guessed).

“I suppose it’s not the kind of thrill you came looking for. I sure didn’t.” He snorted, yet something in his face remained soft; as if he only presented the asshole stance, but wasn’t truly jaded inside.

If you focused on his words alone, you’d probably frown and walk away. But there was a warm glint to his blue eyes, something akin to protectiveness and worry directed your way. Which cut through restricting ties keeping your chest compressed.

It was so rare that someone gave you attention, or showed concern for your well being, that it being delivered even in a near-brusque way made you pause.

“Why don’t we step away from the crime scene,” Ransom proposed, extending his hand to the side with a flourish. “I’ll save us a seat at one of the couches and wait for you to bring some snacks. Add some chocolate to it.”

He waited for you to move. His smirk spread into a full smile when your body obeyed. As you came closer, his fingers faintly brushed your hip as he reminded you to not forget chocolate, before he turned right, toward one of the elevated areas with soft couches.

Your feet led you to the snack tables located by the club’s bar. Any other time, you might’ve been miffed that a smug young asshole ordered you to bring him food, while he waited on the couch like your lord and master. But your brain was still a little scrambled with pulses of anxiety and Ransom’s direction provided something solid and secure in that small chaos.

Your fingers were still shaking when you picked a small plate and filled it with three small canapes, cuts of fruit and a few pieces of chocolate. You felt your thin dress sticking to the parts of your body when your skin was clammy.

As you turned around to find Ransom, you felt your head swishing with dizziness for a split of a second. Anxiety was still clawing at you, adamant on getting you back into its clutches. Somehow you managed to focus your gaze on Ransom’s location and go to him step by step, despite the pounding of your panicked heartbeat ringing in your ears.

He sat on one of the leather couches spread like a king.

The arctic blue shade of his sweater made the color of his eyes pop even more. Despite the plain-looking combination of his outfit (compared, for example, to Master Andy’s pristine suits), you knew these few items were undoubtedly top designer brands. Possibly more expensive than your monthly salary.

Ransom’s eyes followed your every step. You didn’t notice. Not with your focus switching to the plate you were carrying, holding it tighter in fear of dropping everything to the floor with how hard your hands were shaking.

His legs came into your line of vision and you were about to thrust the plate his way and blurt something about being in a hurry. Suddenly, Ransom’s legs spread even wider. Something bright dropped between them and it took your gaze a moment to follow.

It was a soft cushion. One of the many around the whole club, that were provided for the submissive's comfort as they were made to kneel, or sit down on the floor at their Master’s feet.

Astonishment pierced the bubble of anxiety.

Your gaze immediately shifted up to Ransom’s handsome face. He looked amused with your reaction.

“Why don’t you kneel down for me, before you strengthen the numbers of fainting subs tonight.” He pointed at the cushion between his feet.

His voice held something velvety, a hint of teasing charm, but there was a demand behind it. Which, somehow, your body eagerly followed.

You joined Ruby Garden over a year ago and learned that your body craved being dominated, having the control taken away. With your deeply rooted need to please (in many areas, not only sexually), you were always quick to follow orders. However, you never expected your body to yield for a Dom so young.

Honestly, you usually gravitated toward men older than you, or around your age at least. Ransom had to be about ten years younger. Somehow it never crossed your mind to ask for a scene with him, even if you occasionally admired the classic beauty of him.

“Now.” His tone lowered, coming out as an impatient warning.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied instinctively.

You were shuffling forward and gracefully lowering yourself onto your knees, before you even registered what you were doing.

“That’s a good girl,” Ransom’s purr rolled over you like a soft caress, brushing away clamminess and stress.

Reacting strongly to praise wasn’t a novelty for you. There was that deep need inside of you to earn praise, to earn affection and love, which was directly connected to your tendency to offer help, service and any ounce of your time to people around you. But you had expected a sense of awkwardness to stir at hearing the praise coming from a younger man. It should weird you out, right?

It didn’t.

It was as strong as with any other Dominant. Perhaps even stronger, since it didn’t happen in a scene, but a situation not sexual.

“What have you brought me, huh?” His gaze didn’t stray away from your face, watching you with interest. “Give me a taste.”

Your eyes widened as he licked his lips and parted them slightly. He arched a brow expectantly, when you didn’t move, then tapped your calf with his shoe. Stirring from your shock, you picked a small canape and brought it to his mouth.

Watching him take a bite and slowly chew it was almost sensual. Especially with the way he kept holding your gaze. When he opened his mouth again, you fed him the rest of the canape and promptly reached for a slice of fruit.

Every few bites Ransom made a short comment about the good choice you made picking a certain fruit, or how great you were doing while waiting so patiently and eagerly to serve him.

He shook his head when you offered him chocolate, eating instead everything else.

Once all the snacks beside chocolate disappeared, Ransom wrapped his fingers around your wrist. Gently. He held your hand up, studying it for a long moment, before he brought it to his lips and brushed them against your knuckles.

“Not shaking anymore.” He murmured, letting go of your hand.

It struck you only then, when he said it, that all your trembling had subsided. There was no tension in your muscles, no quivering caused by anxious thoughts. Your heartbeat was steady; calm and content. Your breathing was evened, easy.

“I figured occupying your mind with a task you could focus on would help.” There was that considerate softness, which made your heart pang; as well a cheeky smugness that lightened the mood.

“I guess it’s a win-win situation,” you let out a small laugh, “I’m not shaking anymore and you’re fed.”

“I’m very good at multitasking.” Ransom grinned.

Jesus, he had that boyish, but evil charm. You should be viewing him as an annoying younger brother, not a Dom who so easily read you and guided you into a state of contentment.

Not that you were judging younger men. You observed many of them being magnificent in the role of protectors, providers, dominants. However, it was reserved for women of their age, or preferably younger. They all always wanted younger partners. So you didn’t let yourself imagine one of them being interested in someone older. Someone like you.

Which, you reminded yourself, still wasn’t the case. Ransom helped you before you went into a full panic mode, but it didn’t mean he wanted anything more. Considering he didn’t even attempt to lick or suck on any of your fingers as you fed him supported that theory.

“Why don’t you settle down and nibble on that chocolate, Leaf.” Ransom tilted his head to the side, amusement sparkling his eyes as he studied you. “Before you start to overthink whatever you were mulling over just a second ago.”

“Leaf?” You made a face. You didn’t even wear anything green, for the pet name to make sense.

“Because you were shaking like an aspen leaf.” He teased you. “But you’re also delicate and resilient like one, too.”

In your chest, your heart fluttered like the aforementioned leaf. You’ve been called pet names before, the usual ones like sweetheart and baby. Some of the Ruby Garden Doms, with whom you scened, used them, too. But no one ever made a pet name so personal for you. Previously, it was a custom, something socially expected. Ransom made it directly connected to you and your personality.

“Sit down and eat your chocolate, Leaf.” Ransom reprimanded, once again tapping your calf with his shoe.

“Yes, Sir,” you hastily responded and sat down. You weren’t one to argue much, definitely not when in the club. But overall it wasn’t in your nature. You wanted to please and placate people too much.

A dab of worry that maybe you were starting to annoy Ransom dispersed the moment his hand touched the top of your head.

You cast a quick glance up at him, but seeing him watching you intently you dropped your eyes back down. You focused on the bite of sweet chocolate melting on your tongue. He was right, it was better to just enjoy the sweetness and the calm of the moment. Because, knowing yourself, you’d spend the next few days returning to this moment and overanalyzing whatever this was.

“You’re very good at following orders.” Ransom’s hand trailed down your cheek when you finished with the last piece of chocolate. “And you’re very dedicated and efficient.”

“I guess,” you swallowed. You were more than dedicated and efficient, you drove yourself to near exhaustion with how often you strived for perfection and beyond it.

“It pleases me greatly.” His thumb tugged on your bottom lip, before his hand angled to cup your chin.

Something in your belly ignited at his words. You pleased him! And it didn’t even require a lot of effort, just following his direction. Achieving that elicited a certain elation. It also made you want to give him more. Prove yourself further. Earn that caress and happy gleam in his eyes.

“I would like to drive you home. Would you feel comfortable with it?” Ransom’s question was unexpected. Not the offer to drive you, but asking if that was something you’d be comfortable with.

Doms always made sure every aspect was consensual, including non sexual acts. Especially outside the club acts. But it was the choice of Ransom’s words that gave you pause. Not if you wanted him to give you a ride, but if you would feel at ease.

“Oh, I know you’d say yes just to please me,” he chuckled, reading you effortlessly. “That eagerness to please will bring me lots of satisfaction in the future. In certain situations. But now I need you to be honest about your feelings and safety.”

His hold on your chin tightened marginally. Enough to serve as a warning leash, in case you tried to bullshit your way out of it. It was another surprise - that a Dom so young as Ransom had the ability to tap so deeply into that dominant side.

So you took a breath and gave his request a longer thought. Normally, you wouldn’t get into a car with a barely met man. Then again, Ransom wasn’t someone you just met. Granted, you didn’t interact on a regular basis, but he was a known and verified member of the club. Besides, being taken home instead of hailing a cab sounded good.

“I’d be okay with it, thank you.” You answered truthfully. “But I will let one of the Masters know that I’m leaving with you.”

“Good.” Ransom nodded. Then added, with a smirk - “Oh, and tell them I’ll be picking you up for the next night at the club, too.”

“Uh-” your eyes widened. You felt it a nice gesture to offer to drive you home after the stressful evening, but such a blunt announcement of his interest was unexpected.

“Can’t pass on such perfect service. I bet you look good in a French maid outfit.” He winked.

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