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midnightarcheress · 29 days

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cowgirl

a little bar challenge word count: 1.1k characters: simon 'ghost' riley, john 'soap' mactavish, kyle 'gaz' garrick, john price content: nsfw, fem!reader, tf141 lusting for their teammate, idk there's nothing much

"i'm not going on that!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms at the man in front of you.

the buzzing of a bar after a successful mission was a familiar sound for the task force. the glasses clinking, the chatter of old and new friends, the horrible background music, and the abhorrent pick-up lines would, weirdly enough, calm your nerves after days covered in heavy gear and harboring pent-up stress. or maybe the source of your mind's serenity was just the alcohol already flowing on your bloodstream, courtesy of the three tequila shots you were - willingly - forced into drinking.

"come on, bonnie, it will be fun!" Soap said, pointing at the sign propped above the mechanical bull, "besides, ye can win the hat for us."

you scoffed, glancing at the direction the scot referred, right after seeing another contender fall to the bouncy mat under the bull, followed by a string of boo's from the watchful horde. bold red lettering stated 'break the bar's record and win a cowboy hat!', tempting drunk custumers into fooling themselves for a measly prize.

"i bet she's scared," Gaz prompted, adding fuel to Johnny's pleas, "don't wanna be mocked by the crowd."

you rolled your eyes in response, "i'm not scared, Gaz, i just don't see what all the fuss is about. why don't you do it?"

"nuh-uh, don't turn this on me, missy. you're the one being challenged here," he retorted, earning a soundful hum from Soap, "tell you this, if you manage to stay there for a full minute, i'll pay you a twenty. don't even have to stand the whole three minutes of the record."

Ghost and Price stayed quiet during the whole exchange, unimpressed by the trio's shenanigans. they had endured too many drinking competitions, bets, dares, arguments and blatantly stupid ideas coming from the youngsters of the squad over the years, so nothing fazed the two superiors. underneath their apathy, however, lied a real sense of entertainment, illustrated by discreet smirks after particularly dumb comments - usually dropped by Soap's mouth.

"make it a fifty and we have a deal." you smirked, sipping from your beer pint. if you were gonna humiliate yourself in public, it better be for real cash.

"fifty if you break the record, how does that sound?"

after a second of pondering and a few too many glances at the machine's movements, studying it meticulously to engrave how to properly react when the controller jolts the apparatus from side to side, you uttered a hesitant yes, winning a cheerful chant from your friends and some whistles from the audience.

you stepped on the mat and quickly hopped on the mechanical bull, adjusting your legs around the fake saddle. it shouldn't be that hard, right? the initial movements were easy - just holding on the chord and letting the laws of motion do the work. you didn't want to admit, but it was actually pretty fun.

eventually, the controller decided he was being too gentle and started picking up the pace, making your body rock back and forth on bull, decision that knocked the air out of your lungs for a split second, before you composed yourself and tightened your grip on the handles like your life depended on it. the crowd shouted gleefully, encouraging you to push through, despite a few snarky comments preying on your fall, just the expected.

what you didn't expect - and neither realized - was the way your teammates were reacting.

Gaz stood there with his jaw almost reaching the floor, being impressed not only by your sturdy grip, but mostly by the way your back arched when the machine tilted forward, defining your muscles through the skin-tight fabric of your shirt. even if you didn't endure the whole minute from the initial bet, he was willing to give you his entire wallet, just to watch you ride it again, and definitely not to imagine you bouncing on his lap for a little longer.

Soap, who has always been aware of your beauty, suddenly had to sit down after feeling his pants tighten at the sight of your plump ass jiggling due the repeated impacts on the bull's back, in desperate attempts to grind yourself. in addition, the tiniest bit of your lacy underwear peeking out of the dark jeans that hugged your hips flawlessly wasn't helping with his situation.

the daring smile that painted your lips, juxtaposing the concentrated frown of your eyes as you tried your best to not fall during an exceptionally wild movement, only supplied Ghost's cock with an overflow of blood, twitching at the view of your plush thighs clenching around the bucking machine whenever it defied your determination by leaning too much on the sides, shaking to make you collapse on the mat.

Price, however, acted as gentleman the whole time, just admiring your ability and strength to stay clutched to the unpredictable machinery. that, of course, was only until he got a view of your perfectly round tits, taunting the edges of your low-cut top and threatening to spill out at any given minute, ready to give him a real show. the adrenaline-filled flush that gave your cheeks an innocent pink hue, felt very similar to the sudden rush on his shaft that made your captain almost choke on his scotch.

three minutes and forty-seven seconds.

"that was so much fun!" your giggly shout and stumbling figure getting closer to the group was enough to snap the men out of their trance. they quickly took notice of your wide grin and the brown cowboy hat placed on your head, followed by the loud screaming of the public that just witnessed the bar's record being broken.

"come on, pay up, Gaz." you said, sticking your palm to receive your well deserved money in a contained victory dance.

the four men glanced at each other, gathering the courage to speak up after your little performance that had them weak on the knees for a colleague.

"didn't think you had it in ye, bonnie." Soap stated as Gaz reached for the wallet in his back pocket, almost considering giving you a fat tip for the spectacle. the sergeants were certainly doing a poor job in hiding the blush on their cheeks and small beads of sweat on their foreheads, consequence of trying to ignore the tent formed on their trousers.

your superiors, on the contrary, remained quiet and seemingly undisturbed by the previous scene, silently sipping from their glasses but still watching the chatting trio. only now, they wouldn't dare to get up and risk the others - specifically you - noticing their throbbing cocks marking their pants, yearning for the touch of your silky flesh.

after collecting your gains, you rapidly swayed to the bar counter, ordering a new drink with your sweet, sweet money, while the task force members ultimately etched the sight of you riding the mechanical bull in the deepest corner of their brains - saving the images for the great release when you all get back to base.

okay this is my first official thingy i feel so silly. also english is not my first language so...

#cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #tf141 #tf141 x reader #ghost cod #soap cod #gaz cod #fem!reader #cod mw #cod mw2 #oneshot #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

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jftechnology · 1 year

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#cash counting machine #money counting

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accura-network · 2 years

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Currency Counting Machine in Hyderabad

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#cash counting machine in hyderabad #currency counting machine in hyderabad #cash counting machine #best currency counting machine

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valeskafics · 18 days

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"Chemicals React" - Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

a/n: so this was originally a series BUT i felt it flowed better as a oneshot so here it is. based on an anon request. hope y'all enjoy 🩷

Summary: Rafe gets more than he bargained for when he goes to Barry's grandfather's garage.

Word Count: 5,855

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, alcohol consumption, latina!reader, mentions of character death, topper being a classist cunt/classism, rafe being a punk bitch, semi public sex, oral f receiving, face sitting, tiddy succin, slight daddy kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex, handjob

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

It’s another gorgeous day in the OBX. Rafe is cruising in his new Range Rover, living the Kook life, some stupid Machine Gun Kelly song blaring obnoxiously loud from his speakers as he drives around the island. There’s a party at the Boneyard tonight and he knows he’s going to end up going home with some hot piece of ass. Everyone’s going to be dying to take a ride in his new car. Absolutely nothing can go wrong for him.

Until it does. His eyes go wide with horror as the Rover stalls in the middle of the road. Rafe pumps the gas, panicking, doing everything he can to bring his precious car back to life, but no dice. He groans, pulling out his phone and calling for a tow. After a few minutes pass, he sees Barry coming down the road with some of the Pogues he’s seen him hanging around with. Barry raises a brow, rolling down the window of his car.

“Hey, Country Club, what happened, man?”

“Car broke down.”

“But didn’t you just-”

“Yes, Barry, I just fuckin’ bought it,” Rafe snaps angrily, running a hand through his hair, “Shit, and I know my dad’s gonna find a way to fucking ream my ass for it.”

“Take it to my grandpa’s garage,” Barry suggests, “It’s cheap and Abuelo takes cash. Tell them to tow you to Sebastian’s.”

Rafe weighs his options. Barry might’ve just offered him a quick and easy solution. And it’s not like he has anything to gain from screwing Rafe over. The less trouble Rafe gets into with his father, the more lenience he’ll get. Meaning he’ll throw more parties where Barry can sell. Rafe nods, thanking Barry, watching as he drives away.

As suggested, he has the Rover towed to Sebastian’s on the Cut. Fuck, he hates being here, but whatever. The place looks fairly respectable when he walks in, though there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. This isn’t a really good way to run a business, he muses, until his eyes fall on a pair of denim-clad legs sticking out from under a car. He walks closer and clears his throat to make his presence known. But he isn’t acknowledged. So, he tries again, only louder. And still no response.

Rafe scowls, “Yo-”

A muffled voice cuts him off, yelling back, “Gimme a minute, I’m workin’ here!”

He inhales sharply through his nose, already annoyed, but waits, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Rafe waits a few more minutes until he finally hears the sound of the creeper being wheeled out from under the car.

And then? He sees you.

Your hair is pulled off your face with a bandana, ratty jeans and a white tank top adorn your body, both stained with engine grease along with your hands and face. You use your forearm to wipe some sweat from your forehead as you stand up, tossing your wrench into your toolbox, barely giving him a second glance. Meanwhile, he’s unable to tear his eyes away from you. You’re a stark contrast to him in his Lacoste polo, his golf shorts, his boat shoes… And it’s more than enticing.

He clears his throat to introduce himself, but before he can, you’re shoving past him, demanding to know what’s wrong with the vehicle. He watches as you circle around the Rover, examining it.

“It’s brand new and it just broke down out of nowhere!”

“Pop the hood,” you order, hands on your hips.

Fuck, you’re bossy. He’s kinda into it. He does as you ask, popping the hood of the car and watching as you examine it with interest.

“So you know anything about this sort of thing?” He questions, his tone bordering on condescending, “Broken cars and all that?”

“Cars are my life,” you reply briefly, rolling your eyes at his surprised expression, “What? Surprised?”

“I just didn’t think people like you were into this sort of-”

“Poor people? Or people with vaginas?”

Rafe blinks, taken slightly aback by the bite behind your words, his words getting stuck in his throat at the sass you throw his way. Why is he getting hard from this? God, he really needs to listen to Sarah and see a therapist. He mumbles a half-hearted apology, watching as you continue to examine the car, a frown on your face, brows pinching together in what appears to be confusion.

“You said she’s new? A 2020?”

He nods, puffing his chest out with pride, “Yeah, the newest model.”

“Not the newest engine,” you drawl, slamming the hood shut, “You’ve been scammed, Country Club. This engine stopped being manufactured in 2015 because it was defective. They switched up on you.”

Rafe’s jaw drops, “Wha- No! That’s impossible! Larry said it was-”

“Larry? As in Larry’s Exotic Imports on the mainland?” When he nods, you let out a low whistle, “You’ve been had, gringo. What, Daddy not go with you to buy it?”

“I’m a grown man, I can buy my own car!” Rafe retorts, his blood boiling at the smug little grin on his face, “I’m not an idiot, alright!”

You just hum, that smile never leaving your face as you seem to be trying to avoid laughing. You walk over to your workstation, opening up your laptop, typing a few things in quickly, Rafe’s gaze drawn to your fingers, still marred by engine grease. It’s… Oddly refreshing.

“It’ll take a week for me to get it here from the mainland,” you tell him, standing up and typing a few things into the calculator at your workstation.

“A week? That’s bullshit! Why can’t you do it today?”

He sees the way you clench your fists. Rafe is spoiled. He knows that. But a week? You’ve gotta be kidding him.

“I don’t know, Country Club, do you expect me to just bend over and pull a V8 engine out of my ass?” You snark, “One week. And if you have a problem with that, you can push your damn car out of my garage and take it somewhere else.”

He blinks owlishly, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he mumbles, “Fine. One week then.”

“Gonna put you out eight grand for a new engine. Can you afford it?”

His jaw drops, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he repeats, “Eight grand?! There’s no way for it to be less? No discount? Nothing?” Rafe pleads, sweat beading at his temples at the thought of his father finding out he has to spend eight thousand dollars because he got scammed.

You scowl up at him, muttering something in what he thinks is Spanish under your breath before scolding him, “This isn’t a farmer’s market! Eight grand.”

You really aren’t having his bullshit, Rafe muses. He doesn’t think he’s been called out this badly ever before in his life. And deep down, he realizes he deserves it for refusing his father’s suggestion that they go buy the car together. From the dealership.

“Fine,” Rafe mutters, “Eight grand. And I’m paying cash.”

The smirk you shoot his way is nothing short of victorious, “10% down now, the rest later. So $800.” You watch as he pulls out his wallet, commenting, “Cash because you don’t want your pops knowing you got scammed, huh?”

Rafe’s brows crease with annoyance. No way he’s gonna let you think you’ve got him all figured out. Screw that.

“So what if he finds out? He’ll yell at me? Punish me? Ground me? I’ma grown ass man. I can deal.”

Rafe can see the way you bite back a laugh at his words, raising your hands in mock surrender, “Sure, Country Club, whatever.”

“And stop calling me that, will you?” Rafe blurts out, “I have a name. And it’s Rafe Cameron. So fuckin’ use it!”

Your eyes light up with recognition, a grin spreading across your face, “Barry’s friend?”

“Yeah, Barry’s friend,” he mutters, “Why, you know him?”

“Unfortunately. Ėl es mi hermano.” Hermano? Brother?! You snicker at the confused expression on his face, “Yeah, I bet Barry didn’t know I was working today. Never woulda sent you here otherwise. Anyway, leave her here. I’ll have this baby purring like a kitten in no time.”

Rafe’s eyes follow your figure as you move to the mini fridge and grab yourself a beer. There’s something about the way you carry yourself that’s so fucking intoxicating to him. You’re badass, you’re hot, and you can see right through his bullshit. The only problem is that at this point, he’s running out of excuses to stick around. He gestures to your beer, watching as you crack it open effortlessly with your teeth. Your lips wrap around the bottle and all he can think of is how perfect they’d look wrapped around something else-

“Can I have one?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, come on,” Rafe all but whines, unused to being denied anything.”Just one?”

“I know you can damn well afford your own,” you retort, waving him off, “Now shoo. Skedaddle. Begone, thot, I’m a working girl, I got shit to do.”

“But I have a question-”

“And the answer is no,” you reply tartly, shooing him out of the garage, cursing at him in Spanish under your breath, “Out!”

“You didn’t even hear the question!”

You now begin cursing at him at full volume, daggers in your eyes as you gesticulate wildly before finally slamming the garage closed. Rafe stands there for a long moment, a big dopey grin on his face. Fuck, the way you called him a… What was it? Culo? Fuck, you sounded hot. You look so sexy when you’re angry.

Shit, the guy has never been this turned on in his life. And you’re all he can think about his entire Uber ride home. How has Barry managed to keep you a secret for so long?

Well now? The secret is definitely out.

Rafe sees you again sooner than he anticipated. That night at the Boneyard, as a matter of fact. He doesn’t know if he just somehow never noticed you before or if this is your first time at one of these parties. But he can’t tear his eyes away from you. You’re standing around, drinking with your Pogue friends - specifically John B, JJ, Pope, and Kie. He keeps shooting looks your way while trying to stay as discreet about it as possible. After all, he can’t have people thinking the Kook prince is into a fucking Pogue. So, he plays it cool and stays away.

Even if every fiber of his being is screaming at him to go talk to you.

Your jeans are baggy and you wear a one piece swimsuit underneath, no makeup on, your hair mussed by the wind. You’re a bit of a tomboy, he muses, watching you have the time of your life with your friends. You laugh freely and loudly, not caring if anyone turns your way. There’s something almost magnetic about you. An effortless confidence that he can’t help but admire. You continue laughing as JJ says something that probably isn’t as funny as you’re making it appear. John B rests a hand on your shoulder, pointing over at the keg, and you nod eagerly.

Other than wanting to slap John B and JJ for having the audacity to touch you, he wonders what the hell you’re all walking over to the keg for. But, the thought of you dissing him in public is enough to keep Rafe away. So he just watches as you move to do a keg stand, Pope and John B holding your legs up while JJ, Kie, and a bunch of other spectators cheer you on. It’s a sight to behold, he thinks.

Rafe is barely able to pay attention to the gorgeous Kook girl who walks up to him, asking about his new car, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his chest as she bats her lashes at him. All he can think about is those hands of yours, stained by engine grease. The way his fingers brushed against yours when he put the money down for his repairs. You’re fascinating. So different from everyone and everything he knows. He wants you to look over and see that he has no interest in the girl trying to talk to him. That he’s only interested in you.

Despite his efforts, you don’t notice him. You just continue messing around with those stupid Pogues, the five of you pushing and shoving each other as you run toward the water, getting your feet wet. He wonders if you surf, if you swim. What you’re into other than cars. Rafe wonders what makes you tick. If maybe, one day, that could be him running into the water alongside you, splashing you, picking you up and twirling you around.

The party begins to wind down, people going home with their companions for the night. Rafe has been letting the girl on his arm linger, only to duck away from her when he sees you and your friends walking toward him to get to John B’s van. You’re clearly a bit drunk, giving him a wave and a goofy smile despite Kie trying to tell you not to.

“Hey, you’re that güero from before! What’s up, papí?”

You’re clearly drunk. No way would you be so friendly with him otherwise. But you calling him “papí” sends a wave of desire through him. Shit, should his dick be this hard right now? You’re a little fucking tease, that’s what you are. He sees the way your gaze lingers on his chest, with the way he’s left his shirt undone, that same cheeky grin never leaving your face as JJ and John B try to rustle you into the car.

“Papí, don’t be shy! You look damn good without a shirt on-”

Rafe can feel his face heat up at your words. Are you just trying to embarrass him? Or do you actually find him attractive? You’re so fucking hot and cold that he has no idea. His heart pounds as he watches your friends try to get your drunk ass into the car. He blurts out.

“Stop calling me that.”

You poke your head out of the window, your entire upper body dangling outside as Pope desperately tries to pull you back in so you don’t fall, “Lo siento, papí!”

He blinks, frozen in place, his breath catching in his throat as you disappear from his sight once again. Rafe barely even notices Topper and Kelce come up beside him, the former speaking.

“Is that the one mechanic girl? She’s kinda cute. For a Pogue at least. Trashy though.”

Rafe grits his teeth. Why the fuck is Topper looking at you like that? He should shut the fuck up and go back to Sarah. Rafe barely resists the urge to deck him across the face, his friend not taking the clue and continuing to drunkenly ramble on.

“She’s alright for a night, maybe. She’s not the type of girl who hangs around Figure Eight. Anyway, bro, I’m heading home.”

He can’t help but shoot Topper a dirty glare as he walks back toward Sarah. He doesn’t get to say that kind of shit about you. Only Rafe does.

And right now, the Kook prince has one main goal in mind.

How to see you again.

It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic. He knows it. He’s down bad. Down horrendous.

Rafe walks up to the garage, dragging his bike with him, knowing that you’re probably just going to roast the shit out of him, knowing that you probably have no recollection of the night before. You’ve got a welding helmet on and a jumpsuit hanging low around your waist, wearing your jumpsuit, the fabric of it hugging your hips, your ass, your tits… You’re not even trying to look good. It just comes naturally to you.

After you notice his presence, you remove your helmet, your hair damp and mussed, dripping with sweat. Fuck, you look incredible. You wipe your sweat from your brow with your forearm, nodding at him in greeting.

“Whatcha doin’ here, Country Club? Your engine ain’t here yet, so why are you?” He shifts slightly, running a hand through his hair, hoping he looks as suave as he’s trying to. Rafe can barely speak, his mind running wild with thoughts of lifting you up onto the hood of the car you’re working on, fucking you- “Oye! Pendejo!” You interrupt his train of thought by snapping your fingers in front of his face, “Something wrong with the bike?”

“Uh, yeah, kinda…”

Rafe watches intently as you shimmy out of your jumpsuit, tossing it aside, leaving you in your ripped jeans and a baggy Metallica tee shirt. It suits you, he thinks. God, why does he have to feel this way about some Pogue? There’s so many Kook girls out there who would be desperate for one night with him and yet? His ass is stuck on you. You cross your arms, circling the bike, his gaze lingering on the way your jeans cling to the curve of your ass. Fuck, he might as well be drooling over you.

“Ay, dios mío, what did you do to this poor thing?!” You demand, looking at the ruined bike, covering your mouth as if you’re seeing a mutilated corpse, “She’s falling apart!”

“It’s not that bad,” Rafe scoffs, running a hand over his face, knowing he might have gotten a little overzealous in damaging the thing so that he could have an excuse to see you again.

You stare at him, nonplussed, “Not too bad, huh? My abuelita looks better than this and she’s been dead three years, God rest her soul.”

Okay, he can’t really argue with that logic. But, instead of doing that, a sly smile spreads across his face and he shrugs, watching the way you tie your hair up in a loose bun, wanting to keep it off your face. You bring a knee to your chest, tying your shoelaces, waiting for him to respond.

“Alright, just say you can’t do it then. I’ll take it to someone else who knows how. I guess you can’t fix this-”

Your eyes narrow as you glare at him, “Perdóname?! Not able to fix-” He has to hide the gleeful expression that threatens to take over his face at your sassy demeanor, having so easily been able to anger you by calling your skills as a mechanic into question, “I can fix anything on wheels, white boy, don’t you be coming into my abuelito’s garage and say no puedo-”

You begin muttering to yourself in annoyance, grabbing your tools and getting to work on the bike. Rafe bites back a smirk, watching as you bend over, your shirt riding up just enough to reveal your lower back, oblivious to his hungry gaze. It’s easy for him to forget that he’s left your brother waiting for him outside, panicking slightly when Barry comes storming in, glancing between the two of you.

“Oh, hell nah, Country Club, you gonna stay away from my sister-”

“Ha!” You stand up, arms crossed as you glare up at your brother, “You don’t get to decide who I talk to, Barry, hm? Now, get out of my garage before I take this wrench and shove it up your-”

“It ain’t your garage, it’s Abuelito’s-”

“GET OUT! And take your güero with you!”

“But-”

“Out!”

And for the second time in as many days, Rafe is shooed out of the garage like a damn dog. The worst part of it all is that he keeps turning back to look at you, even as Barry gives him his warning glares, declaring that Rafe better not touch you. His kid sister.

When Barry off-handedly reveals that you enjoy going to surf before work, Rafe decides to ignore his friend’s warnings and take advantage of the fact. He takes his dad’s car and parks at the beach, walking out and sitting on the sand, enjoying this moment of solitude, watching you paddle out. Your hair flies behind you as you catch a wave, looking completely carefree. He knows JJ and Pope and the others are out here too, but he can’t bring himself to care. All he wants to do is watch you surf, with that blissful smile on your face.

And everything is chill for a while. He just sits there, feet in the sand, listening to the sound of the waves and watching you go. That is, until Topper and Kelce show up.

“Oh shit, man, are you whipped for that Pogue mechanic?” Topper scoffs, taking a seat beside Rafe, “Dude, bro, you can’t be serious, right?”

Rafe turns to Topper, scowling slightly, “No, I’m not whipped for her! I’m not even into her!”

“You sure, man? Because you were staring. Like a lot. And then at the Boneyard-”

“Shut the fuck up, Thornton, I’m not interested in some stupid Pogue, all she’s good for is fixing my damn bike and my car!”

He hears a rather feminine sounding scoff from behind him, only to see you standing there, flanked by your friends, an angry and somewhat hurt look on your face, “Thanks for making your opinion about me so clear, Rafe Cameron.” Rafe’s face pales and he immediately opens his mouth to protest, only for you to cut him off, “You can pick up the bike from my abuelito. The car too. Because I never want to see your stupid Kook face ever again.”

“Whew, someone’s got a temper,” Topper mutters.

You turn your icy glare toward him, “And someone’s got the beginnings of erectile dysfunction. Do not get loud with me, Thornton.”

Topper presses his lips together while Rafe just sits there, stunned at how monumentally he’s fucked things up with you. And he hates the way you lean into John B’s touch when he wraps his arm around you, the five of you making your way toward that fucking van again.

And this time, he doubts you’re gonna be hanging out of the side, calling him cute little nicknames. You’re furious.

Rafe doesn’t know how he’s gonna talk his way or buy his way out of this one, but he knows he damn well has to try.

He comes into the garage the next day to pick up his bike, hoping against all reason that you’ll be there, with that jumpsuit hanging off your waist, sipping on a beer, looking at him with that Cheshire catlike grin of yours, ready to roast the fuck out of him. But no such luck. Rafe sighs when you’re nowhere to be found in the garage and turns to leave, only to be greeted by an older man. He’s on the short side, a bit portly, with a mustache and hair that’s nearly all white, a kind smile on his face.

“Hello, señor, how can I help you?”

Rafe runs a hand through his hair, “Uh, hi. Um, there’s a girl who works here and she’s fixing my bike and my car and…”

The old man’s eyes light up with amusement as he chuckles, “Oh, I know who you are now. Mr. Rafe Cameron, yes?”

He nods slowly, realizing that this must be your grandfather, the garage’s owner, “Yes… That would be me…”

“Mi nieta is with her friends. Those three boys she’s always running around with. I think they’re going to the marsh.”

Rafe holds back the urge to groan with annoyance. He just wants to fucking apologize. Granted, you have every right not to want to speak to him ever again, but he’s desperate. He glances over at the wall and sees your photo hanging, a big old grin on your face as you hold up a placard dubbing you the Employee of the Month. And there’s another picture right beside it of you and Barry with your grandfather when you must’ve been four or five, chipped teeth, your hair in braids, bandaids all over your arms… He smiles to himself at it, feeling his heart beating a bit quicker than before.

Your grandfather smiles at Rafe, approaching him and resting a hand on his shoulder, “She must’ve made quite an impression on you.”

He smiles to himself and nods, unable to deny it, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got it kinda bad for her. But I think I’ve screwed it up beyond repair and I don’t know how to make it right.”

“Can I give you some advice, mijo?”

Rafe arches a brow, surprised that your grandfather is willing to help but immediately agrees, acting more respectful than he usually would, “Yes, please, sir.”

“My granddaughter has had to work hard her entire life. She’s fought tooth and nail for everything she has, picking up Barry’s slack. She’s proud of who she is and she would want to be with someone who is proud to be with her.” He pauses, eyes twinkling with mischief, “And isn’t too proud to apologize for acting a fool. Women are always right, you know? My wife taught me that.”

Rafe grins at the old man’s words, “Yeah, I think you’re right about that, sir.” He pauses before asking, “Could I ask what her favorite flowers are? If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Sunflowers, mijo. She loves sunflowers. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

With a renewed sense of optimism, Rafe rushes back to Topper’s car, demanding that he take him straight to the nearest flower shop.

Girls like grand gestures, right? He’s going to make the grandest gesture of them all.

After all, you’re more than worth it.

It’s a bit jarring, to say the least, when you walk into the garage the next morning, ready for a hard day’s work, only to see the entire place filled with dozens upon dozens of sunflowers. Your jaw drops slightly as you walk in, feeling like you’ve stepped into a Van Gogh painting. Your bag falls from your hand as you continue inside, admiring the beautiful flowers, the way they brighten up the garage. You then see him step out. Rafe, holding a single sunflower in his hand.

“I… I hope this is okay.”

You scratch the back of your neck, trying to hold back your smile as you take the flower from him, “Sunflowers are my favorite.”

“I owe you a huge apology,” Rafe blurts out, “And I’ve told Topper he does too. The way I let him speak about you and what I said wasn’t okay at all. You’re not just worth more than that. You’re worth everything. And you’re way too good for an asshole like me.” He meets your gaze, a smile playing on his lips when he sees that you make no move to stop him from talking, “Y’know, this is usually the part where you’re supposed to say I’m not an asshole.”

“But you are an asshole,” you smirk at him, toying with the flower in your hand, your smirk fading into a genuine smile, “I… You swallowing your pride and coming here to apologize means a lot. But I don’t know, Country Club-”

“One date,” he blurts out, “Give me one date. Let me take you to dinner. Show you that I can be more than the asshole you think I am. And if I piss you off? You get to leave. No obligations, nothing like that.”

“Why are you so desperate to go out with me?” You ask, genuinely confused.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. You’re smart and you’re… You’re funny and you work hard and I really…” He lets out a sharp breath before laughing, “I really like you. Like, when I’m near you, I feel so out of my element. Like… Like I’m walking on broken glass, like I’m caught in a tide that’s pulling me out to sea. You… You drive me nuts. And I know I’m an asshole… I just kinda wanna be your asshole.”

You look at him, taking in everything he’s said, remaining silent for a long, torturous moment before you lean in, pecking his cheek, “Tonight. Pick me up here. Seven.”

Rafe nods, grinning to himself as he leaves the garage, his hand moving to rest over where your lips touched his cheek, a warm feeling spreading through his body at the realization that he’s actually getting to go on a date with you.

Rafe shows up, ready to take you to one of the best restaurants on Figure Eight, yet another bouquet of sunflowers in hand, but you approach him, wearing those ratty jeans of yours and a shirt stained with engine grease from your long day at work.

“I know somewhere we can go for this date, Country Club.”

Rafe is genuinely surprised that the two of you end up at a more private part of the beach, sitting on the sand, just talking about anything and everything. You tell him about surfing, how your grandmother taught you when you were young before she passed, how she would tell you about the surf back home in Puerto Rico. He tells you about how it’s one of his few memories with his mom. Surfing. And you reach over, resting your hand on his, a lazy smile on your pretty lips as you intertwine your fingers. He’s never felt so vulnerable and yet so safe around anyone.

The two of you sit there, watching the sunset, you sitting between his legs, his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on top of your head as you continue talking. Rafe thinks he could listen to that voice of yours for hours, loving the way you roll your r’s ever so slightly, your quick, acerbic wit, the ridiculous jokes you come up with, the crazy stories about your and Barry’s childhood. You’re everything he never knew he wanted and what he’s always needed but never realized.

You turn around to face him, sitting up on your knees. You lean in close, your arms wrapping around Rafe’s neck. You gaze into his eyes, that gorgeous smile on your face, and it’s like right then and there? Everything in his life has come together. Like the planets have aligned and his world has forever changed. It all revolves around you now. His hands settle on your hips, just over the waistband of your jeans as you lean in and press your lips against his. And it’s like a kaleidoscope of colors begins shooting behind his eyes at this one kiss alone.

Rafe lays back as you push him back against the sand, your hair falling like a curtain around the two of you, concealing you from the rest of the world. Rafe moans against your lips, squeezing at the flesh of your ass as you balance your hands against his chest. Your kiss is heated, passionate as he tugs at your shirt eagerly, tossing it aside, a low groan escaping his lips when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. Rafe’s hands move to cup your tits, squeezing gently, his cock hard and throbbing against your thigh. You palm at him over the fabric of his jeans with one hand while the other moves to undo your own.

Before long, the two of you are lying there bare, under the light of the full moon, not a soul in sight as you continue kissing. You smirk to yourself as Rafe moves, tugging you up further, his hands grasping at your thighs. And you’re perfectly happy to do what it is he’s asking you to. You sink down onto his face, feeling his tongue eagerly lapping at your wet pussy, your hands twisting in his hair as you grind yourself against him. His nose brushes up against your clit so perfectly, his palms squeezing at the flesh of your thighs, your ass, his moans echoing in your ears. Rafe’s tongue feels so fucking incredible inside you and the best part of it is? He seems to be enjoying it even more than you are, judging by the noises you make.

“Fuck, Papí,” you murmur, “You really know what you’re doing…”

Spurred on by your praise, he pulls you even closer, perfectly content for you to rest your entire body’s weight on his face as he devours your pussy. It doesn’t take much longer for that coil in your stomach to wind, releasing hard enough to have you crying out his name, your body going lax as he continues mouthing at you, holding you in place. His lips latch onto your clit, those baby blue eyes darkened with lust as he stares up at you, moaning as he continues to feast on you like you’re a drop of water and he’s a man who’s been wandering the desert for days. Like you’re his oasis.

And when his body finally joins with yours? When you sink down onto his cock, letting him fill you? It’s like the pieces all fall into place. Rafe watches with amazement as you bounce up and down on him, setting the pace the way you want it, your fingers moving to toy with your clit, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you lose yourself in your pleasure, your moans of his name mixed with expletives in your native tongue sounding like music to his ears.

He sits up, pulling you into a heated kiss, his mouth devouring your own as his hips snap up to meet yours. Rafe’s mouth is everywhere. Kissing your lips, your neck, suckling at your tits. He’s desperate for you, desperate to prove how good he can treat you. You reach your peak, throwing your head back and moaning his name as you soak his cock, moving off of him to quickly begin pumping it, bringing him to his own end, your fingers working their magic as you stroke and tug at his length, and he spills himself onto your hand.

Rafe watches with amazement as you lick your hand clean, “You’re… Incredible.”

“Not so bad yourself, white boy,” you tease, moving to lay beside him, feeling him pull you into his arms, “So, what now?”

“Well, clearly you’re my girl now.”

“Oh, clearly, huh?” You scoff, “Nah, honey, you gotta ask.”

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes, grinning at you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, making you smile, “Be mine?”

“Yeah,” you nod, speaking softly, “I’ll be yours. And you’ll be mine.”

Rafe laughs, kissing you again, “Sweetheart, I’m pretty sure I’ve been yours ever since we met.”

The two of you stay there on that beach, holding each other close, kissing, and doing so much more until the sun rises. And when it does? You take Rafe’s hand, and he agrees to surf for the first time in years with you beside him.

Sure, there’s a long road ahead of the two of you. Barry’s no doubt going to be pissed at the both of you. Your friends despise each other. But when you look into Rafe’s eyes and he looks into yours, just like that it doesn’t even matter.

All that matters is the two of you.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #my writing #rafe oneshot

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marctekcashmachinedealers · 8 months

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#Bill Counting Machine Dealers in Chennai #Cash Counting Machine Dealers in Chennai

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

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Try a Little Tenderness

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.7 K

Summary: Steve can’t win you with presents. He’s got to try a little tenderness.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Pining, flirting, organized crime, implied ice skating, teasing, former jerky boyfiend, inexperienced reader, nipple play, oral (both receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, crying during sex, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

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

“Good morning, Steve!”

You were stocking onions, but you looked up and smiled as the tall blond entered the store, setting off the bell. He was well built and handsome and wearing a fine wool coat with a red scarf. It was a cool December, but New York had not yet had its first big snowfall.

“Mornin’, Ambrosia,” came his gruff response.

You kind of liked his early morning voice. And the nickname. The first time he came in, he’d picked up an apple, already biting into it but also already paying. He handed you a twenty and said, “Mmmmm, Name?”, pointing to you with the apple. Flustered, you replied with the name of the apple instead of your name and the rest was history.

This morning, Steve smiled at you and his blue eyes were sparkling. They always sparkled when he looked at you. He seemed very sweet.

“The usual.”

You laughed and went behind the counter to wash your hands.

“Of course, already had the fixin’s set up for you.”

You started the water for the espresso and got out the fresh everything bagels you’d put aside for him. Steve was one of your best customers, coming in every morning, and several evenings. He’d been coming in for about four months now.

Steve settled at the counter and watched you prepare his food. He looked at his watch: 7:42 am. He knew you'd been at work almost two hours now and that you were working very hard. One of your braids had come undone from your bun, and he wanted to put it back, but he didn’t touch you. You wore no makeup, yet your skin always glowed, and when you looked up at him, his heart nearly stopped.

You were naturally beautiful. And your apron did not hide your curves. Or the fact that you were wearing the same pants that you’d worn three days ago. Steve figured that you didn’t have many clothes. He had the urge to take you shopping on Madison Avenue and let you go crazy. But somehow he knew you would never blow a load of cash on clothing. And that’s part of why he was so far gone on you.

He watched you battle your espresso machine with bemusement.

“Why haven’t you set up your new machine yet?”

You stopped and put your hands on your hips, looking so cute that Steve restrained himself from jumping over the counter.

“Is that from you?” You shook your head. “I suspected it.”

Steve had unexpectedly given you many gifts, the espresso machine, a cash register. He’d even tried to have a new walk in cooler installed. You refused and sent back everything he’d sent. It wasn’t right. He barely knew you.

You wondered what he did for a living, always dressed in the finest and able to afford multiple thousand dollar gifts. You figured that he was one of those Angel investors. Well, he wasn’t very good at being anonymous.

You watched as Steve gave you a lopsided grin, then leaned over the counter toward him.

“Listen. Steve. Mr. Rogers.”

You looked from his eyes, to his perfect lips, to his golden St. Christopher’s medal. He smelled so damn good. You bit your lip and Steve smiled, warmed by your proximity. This was his chance.

“Yeah, Ambrosia?”

“I’m not taking your gifts.”

You straightened up abruptly, handed him his drinks and finished his order. You gave him two folded newspapers.

“One Daily News for your friend and one News Day for you.”

“Have you thought about it yet?”

You raised your eyebrow at him.

“About what?”

You thought he was finally going to ask you on a date. You knew the main reason he came in was to check you out. But you weren’t about to be bought.

“About the possibility of getting The Times in here? Alright, the Sunday Times at least.”

“Sorry Steve, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, I don’t order. Can’t afford a non starter. But I do subscribe to the Sunday Times myself for the crossword. You can borrow mine any time.”

You winked at him. Something about Steve brought out your inner flirt.

Steve wanted to say something about sharing the Sunday Times in bed, but he thought better of it. Any other girl, and he would have been able to spit all kinds of game. But with you, he was tongue tied.

Steve sipped his coffee and shook his head as you gave him his bag.

“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

You waved at him as he stood up.

“Have a great day!”

Steve chuckled at your dismissal as he walked out of the door. Bucky was waiting by the car. Steve handed him his cup and sandwich.

“Send Sam to pick up the espresso machine.”

“Still a tough nut, eh?”

“Yeah. She’s still refusing gifts…”

Steve got in the passenger seat while Bucky sat behind the wheel.

“Instead of giving her all of this expensive shit, why don’t you just be nice to her?Ask her out ice skating or something.”

Steve scoffed. He didn’t know how to ask a girl out anymore. He felt like that scrawny kid running around with Bucky back in the day. Now, women were always clawing at each other to get to him. And they always wanted something.

Steve didn’t respond to Bucky, just asked about his calendar.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Buck?”

“We gotta meet with the truckers today. They don’t want to bend to our terms.” Steve put on his sunglasses.

“We know what to do to make ‘em bend, don't we Buck?”

“Sure do, buddy.”

You were in your walk up apartment above the store halfway listening to the 10 o’clock news. They were doing a story about an explosion at the Eatern Tri-State Trucking hub in Bay Ridge as you put your body oil on after your shower. The reporter indicated that authorities thought that the Valkyrie crime organization was behind it. You were zoning out looking forward to the next day.

You were glad that Janie and Nate would be back at work tomorrow. Nate had just taken a week off, and Janie had recovered from the flu. You were going to take the next afternoon off. You could have taken the entire day, but you wanted to open up for some reason.

Running an organic bodega in Brooklyn was a tough job, but the business was growing, but it was even tougher when your help was not there. You deserved a bit of a break.

The next morning, you were humming an Otis Redding song when Steve came in. You looked over your shoulder and caught him looking at your ass.

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers.”

“Mornin’ Ambrosia.”

“The usual?”

Steve wanted to say no, I want to ask you to marry me, but that might be a little too forward.

“Yeah.”

He sat down at the counter and noticed that you had on something brand new. When you turned around, he gestured to your outfit.

“What’s the occasion?”

You looked down and then grinned.

“This outfit is my Christmas present to myself. I’m taking the afternoon off and I’m going into the city to go to the Central Public Library.”

Steve tried to respect your glee. But he had to do it.

“How thrilling.”

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch, “ you quipped.

Steve laughed at you. He thought about what Bucky said the day before.

“Grinch hunh. Well, would a Grinch offer to take you ice skating instead?”

You turned around and leaned on the counter. Steve leaned toward you.

“I don’t know. Are you offering, Mr. Grinch?”

You loved teasing him. Steve groaned.

“C’mon. I’m trying here. Ambrosia. Do you want to go ice skating with me in the city this afternoon? And to dinner afterward.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Steve was very close to you now, staring at your lips.

“Yes.”

You stood up and put your hands on your hips.

“It’s about time. Sure!”

Steve laughed at how easy it was. You shoved his order into his hands.

“Pick me up at 1.”

Steve was grinning like an idiot out at the car, and didn't know how he got there.

“So you finally asked her out, hunh?”

Steve snapped out of it as he got in the passenger seat.

“Move the talks up to 10. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

“Rumlow is stalling. I can handle it this evening.”

“You sure?”

Bucky looked at his best friend.

“Sure as shootin’.”

You and Steve had a great afternoon, and Steve thought that ice skating was genius. He had to thank Bucky. You had to hold hands to stay steady, and when he pulled you in close, you didn’t pull back so you could stay warm. He didn’t know that you were thinking the same things.

Steve got to treat you to Via Carota and you two walked right in. The food was great, the wine was amazing, and you even stole a kiss in your corner booth. The night was perfect.

He drove you back to your place and you sat in the car for a minute. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and you were the one to make the first move with the kiss. You looked at him quizzicaly.

“Can I ask you something, Steve?”

“Yes, Ambrosia, anything.”

“After today, this afternoon and tonight. Do you still like me?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course. Why do you ask?”

You looked down.

“Well, you’ve been such a gentleman. I see how you look at me, all hungry all the time. And the gifts. I don’t know. I just thought you’d be. You know. More…”

“Aggressive?” Steve responded.

“Well. yeah. I just thought.”

You looked back up and saw that Steve’s eyes had darkened.

“I am not a gentle man in my everyday life, Ambrosia. And I know that I can come on strong. But you make me want to be tender with you. I want to cherish you.”

“Oh.”

And Steve pulled you in for a sweet, but sexy kiss.

“So, yes, I still like you. And I have very aggressive thoughts about you. Want to ruin you in fact. But I want to do it carefully. Make you feel it. And make you glad you did.”

“Oh. No one has ever…damn, Steve.”

He recognized that you had been hurt.

“Here’s an aggressive question. What kind of an asshole would make you feel that way about yourself? His name is all I need.”

You laughed.

“Do you want to come up for the answer?” You cocked your head at him as he chuckled and nodded.

“Yes.”

When you got up to your place, you were settled with a glass of wine on your couch.

“I’m not going to give you his name, but I will tell you that we were together for a few months, and we only did it a few times. He’s the only one I’ve ever been with.”

The way you looked as him made Steve’s heart soft, but other things hard.

“It…It didn’t feel good. He said I was frigid and too small. I… I went to the doctor and everything. She said I was fine physically. So I figured it must have been in my mind and I haven’t been able to get out of my head after that. He broke it off and then I just decided to focus on work.”

You peered at Steve to see his reaction.

Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, then cooled.

“That joker is a fucking idiot.”

His eyes traced your body.

“He didn’t know what to do with all this?”

Steve reached for you and kissed you, this time with undeniable passion. You broke away and stood up, offering him your hand.

“Show me, Steve.”

He stood up and followed you to your bedroom.

You stood at the foot of the bed and reached up to kiss Steve, and he picked you up and sat down, sitting you down with both of your legs over his. You made out like this, Steve’s hands still in neutral places until you whined and scooted closer to him.

Then, he went under your sweater, finding your nipple in your bra and brushing it with his thumb. He was exhibiting intense will power, but he couldn’t hold it all back as you responded to his passionate kisses.

Steve lifted your sweater off and your tank top, which was underneath, with it. Your bra contained your breasts, but your nipples were erect and straining against the material. He brought your body towards his for a kiss, his thick fingers pressing and playing with your sensitive buttons. He had you squirming on his lap as he reached around and expertly unfastened your bra.

He looked down at you and then back up, eyes hungry. You’d been yearning for that look.

“I’m gonna cherish this moment, get you ready for me, Baby. You’re gonna feel so good.”

He was weighing and kneading your breast and tenderly flicking your nipple, then he leaned down and kissed you, moving down your neck and collarbone, descending your chest and kissing all around your areolas, teasing your stiff nipples.

He had you moaning and writhing, wanting some friction for your cunt.

“Patience, Baby. You’re gonna get everything you deserve. Including this.”

Steve moved your hand to the hard member in his pants, which you tried to grip in vain through his slacks. You whimpered in frustration.

“I know. I know. I want to do so many things with you.”

Steve’s fingers were in your leggings, through our panties and tracing your wet pussy lips gently as he finally started sucking your nipples. You pulled his hair wantonly as he teased you.

“Mmmmm. Who’s got you all wet, Ambrosia?” he asked, as he pulled his fingers out and put them in his mouth.

“Y-you, Steve… unhhhhh.”

The sight of him relishing your taste made you even wetter. And he found out, because his hand was right back down your pants.

His lips were at your ear and he was breathing hard.

“Can I…”

His thick finger parted your lips and the rough pads of two fingers slid over your clit into your wetness. You arched your back in anticipation.

“...Can I eat you out, my sweet Ambrosia?”

His voice and the request sent you on a tailspin. You nodded vigorously as Steve pulled his hand out to your whine of desperation at the loss of contact.

You quickly stood up as Steve captured your hips to stand still in front of him. His eyes raked up and down your form as he took hold of the waistband of your pants, and slowly pulled them and your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and Steve’s hands ran back up your form as you looked down at him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs as he pulled you near him.

Steve put one knee over his shoulder and stared at your most intimate part.

“She’s a sweet little flower. So pretty and tight.”

His fingers were parting your folds so he could see even more.

“But she will be ready for my thick cock, I know she will, Ambrosia.”

He pulled you forward and held you up as he licked through you, almost causing a near stroke as far as you could tell.

“Mmmmmm,” Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head. “You are so sweet. I could eat you all night.”

You almost cried as he dove back in, grabbing his hair for purchase. He grabbed your bottom and stood to place you on the bed. He kneeled on the floor and held you down and open with his huge hands.

Steve started his feast, gently licking at first, then made you build to a crescendo as he started tongue fucking you. He made sure to stimulate your nipples, and when he felt your hard little nub vibrate, he sucked your clit hard as you came.

“Was that good?”

“Oh my stars, that was good.”

You both laughed.

“You’re so fucking cute, Ambrosia, but there’s levels to this.”

You sat up and watched as he took off his shirt. You were sure that your eyes were sparkling now.

“It’s just going to get better and better.”

He was just clad in his black boxer briefs, a huge bulge leading the charge. He reached in and you were certain that he was going to pull out an entire pack of socks, but instead, he showed you the largest, thickest dick you’d ever seen. Your eyes were like saucers. You were a little afraid, but your legs fell open out of reflex.

“See what you do to me?”

You bit your lip and nodded, reaching out and touching it tentatively.

“I’ve never seen one that big.”

You looked up at him and his heart melted simultaneously as his cock jumped. Your trembling fingers around him made him almost bathe your hand in his spend.

“Oh, Baby.. So sweet.”

“You are too, Steve. I want to taste you.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and Steve groaned, trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Christ… I’m…I…. Whatever you want, Baby.”

You stared at his cock for what seemed like forever. Then, you tentatively reached out and kitten licked his tip, causing him to groan as he palmed the back of your head.

“You’re killing me here, Ambrosia.”

“Hmmm.” You smiled. “Lay down for me, Steve.”

He did as he was told and put his arm behind his head to watch you. The way his muscles bulged inspired you anew. He reached down and roamed his fingers over your body as you hovered over him. You stroked him a couple of times and then played with his balls, Steve putty in your hands.

“B-babyyyy.”

You smiled in triumph that you had him whining as you spread your lips over the thick mushroom cap and sucked it into your mouth vigorously, causing him to moan and buck his hips up. You took the cue and drew him into your mouth, making him hit the back of your throat and gag.

“Holyyyyyy sssssshit. Stop. StopStopStopStop.”

Steve pulled you off his dick, which made you release him with a plop. He sat up and stared at you, disbelief in his eyes.

“Did I do it wrong?”

“Did you do it wrong. Fuck, you almost made me…. C’mere.”

You giggled as you ended up with your back on the bed again, Steve eating you out, this time one finger inside you as you came. You were in shambles as he looked up at you and inserted another finger inside as his opposite thumb stroked your still-quivering clit.

“Gotta get you up to three. Hold on.”

You did, and when he crooked his fingers this time, you let out a wail that caused dogs to bark down the street.

After your fourth orgasm, Steve looked up, smiling ear to ear.

“Still want this dick?”

You scowled at him.

“If you don’t…”

He laughed as he kneeled between your legs, stroking the magnificent beast. You opened your legs even wider and stared down at it.

“No. look at me, look at me. You’re ready. I got you Baby.”

Steve supported himself with one arm as he got nearer to you and started swiping his head between your folds. You keened as he entered you.

“Ow. Steveeeee.”

Your face looked so adorable as you struggled to take him.

“Holy shit, you’re, fuck you’re so….”

Steve kissed you through your moan of shock and pleasure as he slid all the way home. You gripped his bicep, your fingernails leaving marks. Steve pecked your lips as you pounded together, waiting for you to get used to him.

“You ok? You good?”

Steve checked to make sure you were okay. You nodded at him with tears in your eyes.

“I- I- think it feels good. You’re so big, Steveee. But.. but I like it….”

You started moving, a little at first, and then more wantonly. Steve looked down to where you were impaled upon his dick.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Just so.. Fucking… tiny…. But made for me…Shit.”

You felt Steve’s cock jumping inside you when he said those words, and you clasped your hands behind his back and uttered, “More!”

And that’s when you began to get fucked. Tenderly yet filthily. It was the best Steve had ever had, trying to be gentle and knowing that he wanted to put the bed under the ground. It was such a turn on. The ragged moans that you gave him with each stroke was a gift from god, and he started cumming before he could think.

“Shit! I didn’t use a condom…Fuck. But why does that just motivate me to keep going?”

Steve laughed into your ear as he kept stroking for dear life. He was usually so careful, knowing that most women wanted his kid. But with you he didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around him, taking the pounding he was giving you now.

“Hmmmmmm. You want me to put a baby inside you? Pump you so full of cum that you get all round and full with my seed?”

“Hnnnnghhh. Steve… I…”

“Tell me. Do you want it? You want me to get you pregnant?”

“Ohhhh shitttttttt! Steeeveeeeee!”

You detonated around him and Steve cursed, finally pulling out and jacking hard onto your stomach as three fingers on the other hand continued to fuck you through your orgasm. His pearly spend looked beautiful on your skin.

“So gorgeous. There’s time for that yet, but we gotta get you to a doctor, because I don’t want to do this too many more times. And fucking you with condoms is no longer an option.”

You were fucked out, absentmindedly playing in his cum, causing him to spurt one last rope onto your fingers. When you brought them to your mouth was when he shivered. He collapsed beside you.

“I can’t even explain how good that was.”

You just smiled at him, lips shiny with gloss that he made.

“You are an angel. A Christmas angel.”

Steve sighed as you smiled at him. He got up and went to your bathroom to clean up and get a warm towel.

“I’m hungry.”

“Anything you want, Babe. I’ll get it for you.”

You grabbed the remote and turned on the tv, catching the tail end of the news.

“Shootout in DUMBO tonight between the Rumlow and Valkyrie crime organizations. Several high-ranking officers dead or injured, including Brock Rumlow and James Bucky Barnes. More news when we have it.”

“Steve? Bucky? What’s going on? Valkyrie?”

Steve was up and grabbing for his clothes, an inscrutable look on his face.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I gotta go.”

He gave you a quick kiss.

“Don’t leave. Sam will come back with some food for you and he will stay with you. Don’t open the store tomorrow.”

“But Steve!”

“No buts! I will call.”

And then Steve disappeared into the night, leaving you with so many questions.

Knock that reblog button off the block fa me. 😉

Read part two, All I Want.

#dj’salliwant4kchristmas22 #Steve Rogers #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss!steve #chris evans #chris evans imagine #steve rogers smut #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x black reader #chris evans smut #bucky barnes

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