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shaunamilfman · 9 months

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King of My Heart

Summary: "The story of your burgeoning relationship with Jackie Taylor told through a series of drunken encounters. College au."

A/N: drunk girlfailure jackie my beloved. its not described graphically but there are mentions of jackie throwing up a few times if that bothers you. based loosely on this ask.

August.

The first time you met Jackie Taylor she was on her knees on a dirty bathroom floor puking her guts out into the toilet. Normally you would have just minded your business, but you weren’t nearly drunk enough to ignore the accompanying sounds of her sobs. You stumble slightly into the room, squinting slightly as the bright fluorescent lights are so much brighter than anything else at the party. “Hey.” You say cautiously as you carefully drop to your knees next to her. You place a comforting hand on her back as you draw her hair behind her head and hold it out of the way.

Your nose wrinkles disgustedly at the whole experience, but you turn your head away from her as you gently rub her back. “Just get it out pretty girl, it’s gonna be okay.” You murmur comfortingly. You do your best to ignore the sounds of her retching lest you join her, but you can tell that she’s finally stopped sobbing so you decide talking must be working. You keep up the encouragement until you finally hear her flush it away. She leans back exhaustedly as she shifts off of her knees to sit back against the tub and buries her head in her hands. You awkwardly drop your hands off her, sitting just a little too close to her now that she’s stopped being sick.

She brings her hands back down from her face as she stares pathetically over at you. She smiles weakly in greeting as you take her in: her wild hair, bloodshot eyes, red nose, and her mascara running down her face in tracks. You smile back, not wanting to let her on to how much of a mess she looks like right now. You suspect she might still be on the verge of crying, but considering the way her sobs were rocking her entire body when you walked in you were willing to take it as a win. “Are you alright, pretty girl?” You ask genuinely. You start to regret the question as her lip starts quivering as her eyes tear up again.

Your eyes widen suddenly. Oh shit. You think. You barely have time to catch her as she launches herself into your arms on the bathroom floor. You awkwardly wrap your arms around her as you receive a lap full of crying girl. She buries her head in your shoulder, which you think is far too intimate for a stranger you met in the bathroom but you certainly weren't going to be the one to tell her that. You can vaguely hear her whimper out some words but she’s crying so hard you can’t really make heads or tails of them. You finally catch something about ‘drunk’ and ‘Shauna’.

“Who’s Shauna?” You ask while rubbing at her back, figuring she wanted to talk about it. She spills every last little detail between sobs into your shoulder. You can’t help but be strangely invested in the whole story. You did ask with the intention to comfort her but you found yourself drawn more and more into the drama of it all. You wondered what the fuck happened to make her lonely enough to spill all this information to the first stranger she found on the bathroom floor, but that was none of your business.

“What?” You ask, gasping in shock. She pulls back, eyes red and swollen as she nods seriously. She wipes at the tear tracks on her face as she finally manages to calm herself down.

“I know. I know.” She draws out dramatically.

“She really said all that shit after she slept with your boyfriend?” You asked in disbelief, shaking your head as she hums in acknowledgment. You really weren’t expecting to get such good gossip out of this venture, but this shit was better than reality TV. You reach up above you to pull a hand towel off of the bar and gently bat her hands away as you wipe her mascara off her face. She’s sitting fully in your lap at this point, which you're doing your best to ignore, and lets her eyes close as you take care of her face. When she opened her eyes again the expression on her face was unreadable but her big eyes seemed to stare straight into your soul.

You shift uncomfortably as you look away, which is harder than you’d think considering how close to you she’s sitting. As if she’s suddenly becoming aware that this isn’t a normal amount of intimacy to share with a stranger she mumbles a quick sorry, but interestingly enough makes no actual move to get out of your lap. What the fuck is wrong with this girl? You wonder idly but decide it would probably be easier to just go along with it at this point. She has this way of making her socially unacceptable actions seem perfectly normal as if you’d be the weird one if you questioned her about them.

You listen quietly as she talks your ear off about this and that, sitting back against the wall with your legs crossed as she sits sideways across your lap. She throws her arm over your shoulder as she talks, seemingly getting more comfortable the more you allow it. By the time she finally stands up and stumbles back to her dorm, you think you must know everything there is to know about soccer and the epic rise and fall of her friendship with this Shauna girl. You stand up slowly as she leaves, your legs going numb for how long she was sitting on top of them. You stumble back to your own apartment falling straight into bed, emotionally exhausted from the entire experience.

…

October.

“Y/N!” Jackie calls out happily. You can tell from the slightly glazed look in her eyes that she’s already had one drink too many. You weren’t entirely sure how she had learned your name but were admittedly pretty curious to know if she had gone out of her way to find out. Secretly you hoped she did. You’d run into her at a few more parties, not all of them as eventful as the first. You murmur a quick goodbye to the friends you came with as you walk over to see what she wants. Her face lights up when she sees you coming. Her chair is far too small for the both of you to sit comfortably, but you still acquiesce as she excitedly pats the seat next to her. You shift a little awkwardly at the way it pressed your thighs together, but she certainly doesn’t seem upset about it.

“Hey, gorgeous.” You greet a little awkwardly. You still didn’t know her name, but she always flushes with pleasure at the compliments so you’ve decided just to roll with it.

She pats you excitedly on the thigh as she starts talking, mouth immediately moving a mile a minute as she catches you up on everything that’s happened since the last time you ran into her. You find yourself strangely invested in her life and listen intently as she speaks. She seemed oddly lonely for such a bubbly girl, and you wondered why she was having so much trouble finding other people to talk to at these parties when she obviously could have made a lot of other friends if she tried.

“God, I know.” You interrupt. “I had a professor like that my first semester. The average was like 45% and somehow we were the problem.” Jackie nods enthusiastically in agreement as she speaks.

“He acts like he doesn’t have a one-star rating!” She groans, leaning her head against your shoulder. She pouts up at you, as if she’s the only person to have this problem ever. You raise your cup to your lips to hide your grin, but judging by the knowing look she sends you it didn’t work too well. She sighs dramatically in offense, shaking her head as if disappointed. Jackie catches sight of your empty cup, suddenly standing up and dragging you off to the kitchen with her.

“Jesus!” You exclaim as you stumble after her, a little dizzy from the sudden change in position. You were honestly surprised that she managed to pull you up like that: she was definitely a lot stronger than you gave her credit for. She rummages through a few glass bottles sitting on the table before she finally finds the one she wants. She grabs your cup from you as she starts pouring you a drink. “Oh,” You say in surprise. “Is that for me?”

Jackie rolls her eyes as if to say obviously, as she continues. “Then this one girl was like maybe the people who didn’t study are bringing the average down, as if I didn’t have to step over her passed out on the floor the night before the exam.” You laugh softly as you look up at Jackie with an overly fond grin. Your eyes lock as she returns an equally fond look, the two of you getting lost in each other in the middle of the kitchen. You nearly jump apart at a loud yell of glee coming from another room. Jackie’s hand flails slightly, knocking over the bottle she just sat down on the table. It falls over on your hand with a loud thud, making you hiss in pain as you draw it back towards your chest.

You groan as you flex your fingers painfully, but it fades quickly enough that you know it isn’t anything serious. Jackie bats your other hand away so she can examine it closely, poking at your fingers as if to determine any damage. “What the fuck is that going to do?” You ask wryly, the corners of your lips quirking up in amusement. She ignores you as she keeps messing with your hand, failing at what she obviously considers to be a subtle move as she laces your fingers together.

“I’ll have you know that poking at the wound is a tried and true method.” Jackie defends with a too-wide grin. “I was really worried about your fingers.” You shake with silent laughter, your face contorting weirdly as you try to choke it back. “What?” She asks in confusion, which finally sends you spiraling over the edge.

“I bet you were.” You say between peels of laughter, flexing your fingers in an obscene gesture. Jackie scoffs, a blush immediately covering her face, and gently shoves at your shoulder in reproach.

“See if I nurse you back to health again,” Jackie mutters with a pout, looking adorably embarrassed as she backs away from you.

“Wait! Wait, Doctor…” You trail off playfully, giving her an expectant look. She grins as she shakes her head.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep calling me pretty, Y/N.” She says smugly. You slowly grin at the realization: she’s been purposely keeping her name from you to make you compliment her. She waves her fingers playfully as she turns and disappears off into the party.

…

November

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, you were far more invested in your current conversation, but your interest immediately peaked at the mention of someone crying in the bathroom. It couldn’t be… No, You think. It definitely is. You sigh, abandoning your cup on the table as you walk off to find her. You follow the sound of sobs up to a familiar bathroom and sure enough there she is. She’s just crying this time, not throwing up, so you’re deciding to count it as progress. She looks up quickly as you open the door giving you a watery smile. She doesn’t seem all that surprised that you’re here, in fact, she seems like she was rather expecting it. You get the strange feeling that you are running late.

Jackie looks utterly pathetic sitting on the bathroom floor, holding her knees up to her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her bottom lip quivers as she blinks away tears and you're nearly overcome with the desire to hide her away from anyone who could ever hurt her. She has this strange way of inspiring extreme loyalty even in someone whom she hasn’t even graced with her name.

You sink to the ground next to her, opening your arms wide as she immediately scrambles into your lap. She buries her head in your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you as she shakes with sobs. You wrap your arm around her stomach and rub the other hand against her back, cradling her as you try to comfort her the best way you can. You’ve never been particularly good at comforting people, but you and Jackie work well in the sense that she doesn’t seem to expect you to be. She seems pretty content– as content as someone sobbing on a bathroom floor can be– with just having your attention as you murmur your best attempt at comforting words.

You’ve gotten three ‘let it out pretty girl’s, two ‘it’ll be okay gorgeous’s, and a ‘you need to breathe baby’ before Jackie finally manages to get herself together. Jackie sighs against your neck, wiping her eyes off on your shirt. You resist the urge to groan, knowing from experience how hard her mascara was to get out of your clothes. You shiver as Jackie’s cold hand brushes up against the back of your neck as she plays with the edge of your collar. You find it incredibly distracting as she rolls it between her fingers as she says, “You came.”

You shrug. “Heard there was someone crying in the bathroom.”

Jackie hums in acknowledgment as she looks down at the hand wrapped around her stomach. “You keep taking care of me.” She says quietly. “I didn’t think I’d ever have someone to take care of me like that again after…” She looks so incredibly sad, but at the same time, she stares at you with such a large amount of affection that it makes you squirm in discomfort.

“It’s not a bad gig,” You admit. “Out of all the girls that could have been crying all over me at a party I’m glad it’s you.” She smiles evenly throughout but you can see her eyes narrow slightly at the mention of other girls. You shift nervously underneath her and she whines quietly in protest as she tries to hold you still. You roll your eyes as you lean your head back against the wall, getting the sense that you're going to be here for a while.

“What brought you to the bathroom floor this time?” You ask.

Jackie sends you an amused grin as she asks, “Would you believe I dropped something?” You roll your eyes as you give her an expectant look. She sighs exaggeratedly, as if she hasn’t been impatiently waiting to talk your ear off about whatever’s upset her this entire time. If she’d had the ability to speak while she was crying that hard you're sure she would’ve already told you several times over.

You listen patiently as she speaks, reacting at all the appropriate points. You tilt your head in consideration as you think, feeling strangely proud at how high Jackie seems to hold your opinion as she watches you thoughtfully. “You miss this Shauna girl a lot, don’t you?” You state more than ask. Jackie nods slowly, as if a little embarrassed to admit it. You couldn’t say you approved much of the desire, but you knew Jackie needed to try to mend this relationship for her own sake. There’s only so many times you can find someone sobbing on the floor before it starts to get concerning.

“Do you think you can forgive her?” You ask. Jackie seems to consider this for a long time as she cozies up in your lap. The longer you sit here the more aware you become of just how warm her body feels against yours, regardless of how cold her hands seem to be, and you're more than content to bask in the feeling while Jackie thinks. You can feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes and it starts to lull you to sleep. You startle as she suddenly speaks, having almost forgotten what you were sitting around for.

“I just want her to say she’s sorry, that’s all.” Jackie’s eyes prickle with tears that you're quick to wipe away, placing an affectionate kiss against the side of her head in an effort to stifle her tears. You really don’t want to do this again tonight. Jackie’s eyes widen as she flushes, burying her head further in your shoulder. You aren’t quite sure what that’s about, but at least she stopped crying.

You sit on the bathroom floor with her sitting pretty in your lap for quite a while, moving on from Shauna as you talk about anything and everything she could think of. You really enjoy spending time with her even as strange as she seems, but you really wish you could start meeting more in other places. Your legs ache something terrible from sitting in that same spot for so long, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world as Jackie prances off happily a few hours later. You groan as you pull yourself to your feet, leaning heavily against the counter as you wait for the feeling to come back. Still, you managed to get at least one thing out of tonight.

“Jackie.” You say quietly, deciding you quite like the name. Finally getting it out of her was like prying teeth, but you think it really fits her.

…

New Year's Eve

The first time Jackie Taylor had run into you right as you were leaving class you had chalked it up to chance. The two of you had gotten lunch together, leaving you with the realization that she’s still that delightful mixture of strange and kind even when sober. The next four times that Jackie had run into you had left you more and more suspicious, but you didn’t seem to mind as much as you probably should. If you were ever unsure, the look of utter happiness on Jackie’s face when you had run into her outside of her own class would have changed your mind. She’d hung off your arm the entire afternoon, dragging you around to show you all her favorite spots on campus as if they were super niche and underground.

Despite these encounters, you were more than a little surprised when Jackie Taylor had plopped down in the seat across from you in the library– mostly because you weren't aware she knew where the libraries were, let alone what time you’d be there– but the surprise had quickly turned to fondness when she asked where you were going to be for New Years. A combination of Jackie not wanting to stay the whole break with her family and you living off campus has brought you here: leaning against the wall at a dingy frat house as you nurse your drink.

It wasn’t the best night you’ve ever had, admittedly already starting on a sour note as some guy hit you with a lame question of “What's a pretty thing like you doing here?” in what he obviously believed to be a charming voice before you’d even made your way into the door. You scowled at him but before you could answer Jackie popped up out of nowhere and placed a surprisingly firm hand on your arm as she dragged you far away from him. Jackie happily talked your ear off as she handed you a drink, even if she had kept glaring in his direction. You’d ended up away from the rest of the party, not being able to hear each other well over the music, which left you standing awkwardly by yourself without her.

Jackie had walked off to get another drink a few minutes ago, not that she needed it as drunk as she was already, and you were admittedly concerned with how long it was taking her. You were about to set off to find her when she excitedly wandered back in. “Y/N!” Jackie calls out in surprise when she sees you as if you weren’t exactly where she left you. “I’ve been looking for you!” She smiles so wide it splits her face as she finally finds you.

“You found me.” You say with a grin, unable to stop yourself in the face of her clear exuberance.

“Where’d you go?” She asks in a whiny voice. “I missed you.”

You laugh fondly. Where did I go? “I missed you too.” You say instead. Jackie gasps quietly, looking a little hesitant.

“You did?” She questions, eyes wide. You nod and Jackie looks at you for a moment like you put the stars in the sky. She clears her throat suddenly as she glances away before sending you what you're sure was meant to be a flirty smile. “Of course you did.” Jackie giggles, more self-confident than ever in her inebriation.

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” Jackie teases. You scoff as you gently push at her shoulder. Jackie looks far too proud of herself at the moment. Two could play at that game.

“Good thing you were there to save me, yeah?” You tease. Jackie flushes slightly at the comment.

“Save you?”

“Oh, yeah. A real knight in shining armor.” You confirm with a wry smile. You suspected Jackie was more jealous than anything, but you appreciated how fast she had gotten you out of there. Even if the idea of having her pay so much attention to you made you a little lightheaded. Jackie preens at the comparison, grinning smugly over at you.

Jackie reaches out to lean against the wall next to you, but clearly misjudges the distance as she crashes face-first into it with a loud thud. She reels back with a pained cry, nearly tripping backward in her haste only to be saved by your quick reflexes as you grab at her arm. She stumbles into you as she gets her feet back under her, one hand covering her nose. “Fudge!” She curses as she pulls her hand away and finds blood.

Fudge? You mouth in surprise. Whatever. You’ve got bigger problems. You quickly pull her by the hand to the kitchen as you go searching for paper towels. You gently hold them up to her face to soak up the blood as you hold her tightly against you in comfort. You can hear her jagged breathing as she tries not to cry, not wanting to risk further irritating her nose. You whisper soothing words in her ear as you try to calm her down.

Jackie's hands clench tightly around the fabric of your shirt, enjoying the proximity despite the reason behind it. She’s long since calmed down before you try to peel away from her. She whines pitifully but doesn’t make a move to stop you, her hand falling limply to her sides.

Jackie hisses as you pull the paper towel away from her face to inspect the damage. Jackie watches you closely as you carefully turn her face to look at her nose. “It doesn’t look that bad, Jackie,” You say as you pull your hand away. She looks upset at the loss, her bottom lip sticking out slightly in a pout. You consider her for a moment. “Does it still hurt?”

Jackie pauses in consideration before suddenly whining in pain, nodding insistently. You narrow your eyes, not quite believing it, but you return to fussing over her even as she seems to have a miraculous recovery. After she stops whining about it you take a wet paper towel to her face as you gently wipe the blood away. You're holding on to the side of her face as you turn it side to side as you clean her up. Jackie seems entirely focused on the contact, eyes nervously darting around as her face burns bright red.

You're just pulling the paper towel away from her face as you hear the countdown begin, nearly startling you away as the screaming starts. You’re about to join in the revelry when Jackie lunges forward and kisses you just as the new year begins. Jackie hisses in pain as her nose touches your face but doesn’t pull away for a second. You eagerly reciprocate the kiss despite your surprise at its origins, and have to resist the urge to push forward as she pulls away.

Jackie smiles nervously at you as she stumbles away. You try to call out for her but she throws a “Sorry, I’m more tired than I thought!” over her shoulder as she rushes out of the kitchen. You're left standing in the middle of the kitchen still holding the bloody paper towel as partygoers scream happily around you.

What the fuck was that?

…

Valentine’s Day.

You didn’t see Jackie for a couple of weeks after classes resumed due entirely to the way she’d turn tail and run every time she saw you so much as looking at her. She’d shown up outside your class one day as if nothing ever happened claiming a family emergency that she’d insist upon no matter how much you grilled her about it. You finally gave up on arguing when she caved and apologized for it, seeming oddly guilty given what she was claiming. You were admittedly very excited when she asked you to go out to a party with her for Valentine’s Day, only to be quickly disappointed when she followed it up with a “As friends, of course!” Whatever.

She’s gotten progressively drunker as the night goes on, practically hanging off of you as she giggles far too loudly at a joke that you didn’t think was nearly funny enough to warrant that kind of reaction. She’s gotten noticeably flirtier as the night goes on as if every drink she throws back is emboldening her more and more. Despite your concern with how much she’s drinking you find yourself endlessly charmed as she squeezes at your arm and gently makes fun of you, always giving you her full attention. You don’t think she’s looked away from you once in the last hour which would be concerning coming from anyone else but Jackie seems to make it work as always.

“You’re like… really pretty,” Jackie says suddenly, changing the topic as she blinks at you in what you're sure was meant to be a wink. You flush slightly but try to shake it off.

“I think you’re really pretty too, Jackie.” You reassure, smiling softly at her. Jackie groans as she shakes her head.

“No!” She whines, looking frustrated.

“No, you’re not pretty?” You question, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

“No, no. I’m pretty,” Jackie says almost immediately, making you laugh. “You’re just so…” She trails off, reaching her hands out to cup the side of your face. You inhale sharply as the motion brings your faces closer together.

“Jackie?” You question softly, remembering how she acted the last time she tried this.

“So pretty…” She murmurs again, “Made me nervous.”

“You’re… You’re not going to run off on me again?” You ask slowly. Jackie shakes her head exaggeratedly fast, looking like she immediately regrets it as she quickly backs up with a hand flying up to her mouth. You jump away from her, terrified of her throwing up on you, but you slowly relax as it seems to be a false alarm.

Jackie still looks a little nauseous but otherwise no worse for wear. You sigh. You should probably get Jackie home before the night ended in tears. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why she’d drink so much if she knew she had such a low tolerance for it every time. “Let’s get you home gorgeous.” You say placatingly. Jackie sighs, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her face. She nods as she holds her hand out four you to hold.

You lead her by the hand out of the party, looking at her expectantly as you get to the street. She stares back at you in confusion, happily swinging your joined hands between you. “Where do you live?” You prompt her helpfully. Jackie shrugs. What?

“What’s your dorm?” You ask slowly. She shrugs again.

“Dunno,” Jackie says.

“You don’t know?” You ask with a touch of irritation. Jackie frowns as she makes a big show of thinking about it.

“I don’t remember.” She concludes finally. You look away in frustration, fingers coming up to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you try to calm down. You miss the knowing grin on her face as she quickly stifles it before you turn back.

“You don't remember where you live?” You ask in disbelief. She shakes her head hard enough that she starts to look dizzy, leaning heavily on you as she loses her balance and almost takes the both of you down. You eye her wearily, not sure what you're supposed to do with the drunk girl hanging off of you. Judging by your typical meeting site– holding her hair back as she throws up and sobs her life story to you– you suspect there isn't anyone you could put her off on even if you tried.

“Do you wanna sleep at mine?” You ask finally, deciding it would be better not to leave her there.

“Mm,” Jackie murmurs happily as she clings to you. You’re practically holding her up at this point as she doesn't seem to want to stand. She doesn't seem to want to do anything but climb all over you at this point.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes. Start screaming you're being kidnapped if you disagree." You say playfully, not even sure if she's awake enough to listen to you. You're practically carrying her down the sidewalk to your apartment at this point and you dread to think how it looks to passersby.

“Noooo.” She whines quietly in your ear, barely loud enough for you to hear it. “Please don't throw me in your dungeon.” You shudder at the hot breath directly against your ear. She doesn't seem to mind though, as she starts resting her head on your shoulder and breathes against your neck. You can admit to being slightly self-conscious as the gorgeous girl hanging off of you stares at your face from 6 inches away.

She's so strange, You think absentmindedly. You decide that you kind of like it anyway. You make a squeaking noise that you'd later deny as she presses a gentle kiss against your jaw. “Thank you for taking care of me.” She murmurs with a tired grin on her face. Her eyes are barely open as she stares up at you. Her hair is wild and unkempt and she smells suspiciously like vomit, but under the streetlights you think she's never looked prettier. You flush at the thought, looking away from Jackie as you drag her to your apartment.

You pull her into your bed the second you step into your room, deciding to forgo changing under these conditions. She immediately latches on to you the second you're within grabbing distance. She clings on to you like a child, whining petulantly when you try pulling away. After you stop fighting she starts positioning your limbs where she wants them, ending up with her curled back against your chest with one of your arms and a leg thrown over her.

You're in the strange position of holding someone against your own will: she holds on to your arm so tightly you're not sure you could get it back without hurting her. She's surprisingly strong for how tiny she is. There's a faint stinging where her fingers are wrapped around your arm, you think she might have drawn blood. You sigh quietly as you decide to just go limp. You've slept in worse places, after all. God was she fucking cold, though.

You're sitting against the edge of your bathtub with Jackie resting her head on your thigh as you gently massage her scalp with your fingertips. She’d immediately woken up hungover, rushing off to be sick as you were left comforting her over it again. Jackie pulls her head back with a groan, looking up at you from her position on the floor. She sits up to move between your spread legs, wrapping her arms tightly around your back as she buries her face into your stomach. She whines against you, prompting you to resume running your fingers through her hair.

Jackie murmurs a muffled “I’m sorry,” into your stomach, making you shudder at the feeling of her breath. You try to pull her away to look at her but she only digs in more, refusing to let herself be moved from the safety of your body.

“What are you sorry for?” You ask finally, giving up on looking at her.

“Ruined it again.”

You sigh, sliding a hand down to rub comforting circles against the side of her face with your thumb.

“You didn’t ruin it, Jackie.” She scoffs.

“Did too,” She insists.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did no-” You trail off, shaking your head. “What are you, 12 years old?” Jackie giggles as she pulls away, smiling gently up at you from her knees. She looks serious all of a sudden, resting her hands against your knees as she sighs.

“I wanted you to be my valentine,” She admits, “I chickened out asking you.” You grin softly, looking incredibly pleased.

Jackie, upon noticing your reaction, grins back at you as she squeezes your knee affectionately. “Always more confident when I’m drunk,” She says wryly. “Got too drunk again though.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “You could ask again?” You offer.

“Do you want-” She starts.

“Yes,” You interrupt, making her laugh. “Maybe somewhere without alcohol, yeah?” You suggest playfully. Jackie’s face scrunches up as she nods in agreement.

“Never going to drink again,” She mutters, looking a little ill still. You don’t think she’ll hold out on that for too long, but you’ll enjoy making fun of her again when the time comes for it.

The two of you lock eyes for a long moment and Jackie slowly leans up. You shake your head insistently as you press your hand flat against her mouth. “Not until you brush your teeth, Romeo.” You mutter. Jackie whines in protest as she slumps back against her legs. Her eyes narrow as she licks at your hand making you squeak in surprise as you draw your hand back. She looks smug at the action, slowly rising to her feet as she starts to look through your drawers for a spare toothbrush.

At least she knows what she wants.

…

Two Years Later.

“Y/N!” Jackie complains, huffing in annoyance as she drags you stumbling out of the bar. You were more unsteady than you'd thought you'd be, probably owing to the last drink Jackie had warned you not to get.

Whoops.

“Whoops?” Jackie asks, rolling her eyes. As annoyed as she is she doesn't seem to be actually mad, maybe even a little amused at the situation. You grin widely, tugging her against your side as you throw your arm over her shoulder.

“Did I say that out loud?” You ask, just a touch too loudly. Jackie laughs softly, leaning against your side as she wraps her arm around your back to guide you home.

“I told you that you'd had enough.” She says wryly.

“It tasted good.” You defend weakly, pouting over at her. She hums in consideration, pausing for a moment before she swiftly kisses you. You eagerly begin to reciprocate but she quickly pulls away as she gives you a teasing grin. She slips out of your arm and she makes a big show of licking her lips before nodding decisively.

“It does taste good,” Jackie confirms as she pulls you by the hand down a side street and up to the gates of your apartment building. You groan in disappointment which just makes her laugh. Her smile lights up her face like it so often does, and you find yourself lost in her eyes. As much of a rush as Jackie has been to get you home she's more than willing to let you admire her, the corner of her lip quirking into a smirk the longer you stare.

You can't help the rush of excitement that comes over you as Jackie reaches over and tugs you forward by your belt loops. Her hand rests on your hip before it slowly slides into your pocket. Your pocket?

Jackie pulls away as she holds your keys up, waving them in front of your face before she turns and walks up the stairs. You wait at the bottom dumbfounded for a minute, rushing up the stairs and catching up just as she unlocks the doors. “Not fair.” You complain, holding the door open for her and locking it behind you.

“No.” Jackie agrees, setting her purse down on the counter. “Fun though.” She adds as she walks off to get changed.

You cry out happily as she finally walks back out of the bathroom, having already gotten changed and ready for bed. You hold your arms out for her to climb into, but she chooses to ignore them as she walks over and lays on the other side of the bed. You gasp in offense, rolling over to stare at her in disbelief. She feigns a sternness that she isn't actually able to enforce as she shakes her head. “Told you not to get that last drink.” She says, looking away from you in an effort to hide her smile.

“Jackie Taylor,” You say slowly, having to really think about your words. “Are you… punishing me?”

She shrugs. “Is it working?” She murmurs.

“On my birthday?”

“I had a surprise for you,” She complains. You snicker as you give her a knowing look.

“Was it you?” You ask wryly. She scoffs, rolling over to face away from you with her arms crossed over her chest. You'd worry she was actually mad if you couldn't see the blush on the only visible part of her face.

“Don't be like that, gorgeous,” You say, pulling gently against her shoulder. She lets you pull her on her back, still refusing to look at you. She huffs loudly, just in case you'd forgotten she was annoyed. “Give me my present in the morning, yeah? I'm sorry I got too drunk for it,” You say placatingly.

Jackie uncrosses her arms, letting them fall limply to her sides. Still, she makes no move to get any closer. “Come to bed?” You whine, tugging gently against her arm.

“I'm in bed, ” She teases, giving you a smug look.

You smirk slightly as you playfully lean up to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against Jackie’s jaw, falling back against the bed giggling when she exclaims in disgust and jerks her face away. She gives you what she obviously considers to be a warning look but does next to nothing to deter you as you shift up to your elbows, intent on planting another one. She makes a whiny noise in protest as she gently pushes your face away from her. She pouts over at you and you grin softly as you roll on your side to face her. You reach a hand out and squish her cheeks together, making her lips bulge out exaggeratedly. She slaps your hands away with a groan, giving you an exasperated look. “No.” She whispers, trying to be firm but still giggling as she points a stern finger at you.

Jackie cries out in shock as you gently bite at her finger, trapping it between your teeth. She watches in disbelief as she tries and fails to get her finger out. “Please?” She asks finally, giving up on fighting you. You release her immediately, grinning far too wide as you climb on top of her and hug her tightly. She makes an irritated noise as your weight presses her into the bed, but reaches up to massage your scalp with her fingertips as you yawn into her neck. You shift on top of her as you find a comfortable position, more than happy to let her gentle motions soothe you to sleep.

…

5 Years Later.

You ignored the banging on the door to your hotel room at first, figuring some drunk couple had the wrong room, but the longer it went on unimpeded the more concerned you got. Finally, after the thought of Jackie being hurt crossed your mind, you shot up to go answer the door. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Jackie, hand flying up to cover your eyes. “Jackie!” You cry out in shock, feeling an equal measure of shock and pleasure at her arrival. “Thought it was bad luck to see the bridge the night before the wedding.” You chide gently.

“You don’t believe in that,” Jackie accuses gently, a mixture of drunk and exuberant. You shrug, still holding your hand over your eyes.

“You do,” You say, entirely unsure why she’s here with you instead of at her bachelorette party. You’d had your party a few days before, choosing not to risk the hangover. Jackie, on the other hand, always loved to live on the edge. You smile fondly at the thought. Jackie makes a pleased noise, hands reaching up to tug your hand away from your face.

“Look at me,” Jackie pleads, smiling brightly at you. She pushes gently against your shoulders as she walks into the room, the door swinging swiftly shut behind her, walking you backward until the back of your knees hit the bed. You fall backward in surprise, taking a giggling Jackie with you as she falls on top. You grunt at the sudden weight, but that does nothing to stop Jackie from moving up to her knees to straddle you, grinning smugly down at you.

You can tell from the glassy look in her eyes that she had a few too many tonight, making you roll your eyes. She pouts at the reaction, hands coming down to cup the sides of your face. You shiver slightly at the coldness of her ring against your face, but you enjoy the reminder of her place in your life. Your fiance, and tomorrow your wife. You can’t help the way your smile lights up your face as you stare up at her, the love of your life who broke her own silly superstitions because she missed you.

You rest your hands against her hips, shifting her into a more comfortable position as you ask “What’re you doing here?”

“Don’t you want to see me?” Jackie whines, looking seriously put out. You laugh gently as you squeeze at her hip.

“You know that. Staying apart was your idea, gorgeous.”

“I’m drunk,” Jackie informs you.

“No. Say it isn’t so.” You say dramatically, feigning shock. Jackie nods seriously as if she truly believes it to be novel information.

“You always take care of me when I’m drunk,” Jackie confesses, a look of affection suddenly coming over her face. She leans down and presses a kiss against your hairline, lingering far longer than she needs to. “You’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

You choke up slightly as you say “Always Jackie. I promise.” Jackie frowns at the sight of your tears, quickly wiping them away. You clear your throat awkwardly, leaning up to kiss her as a form of distraction. Jackie grins happily when you pull away, but she’s still watching you a little closer than you’d like as you gently coax her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Your wife always took care of you too, in her own little ways.

#jackie taylor x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

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he-calls-me-kitten · 1 year

Note

I'm back again <33

I've got more 3am thoughts and scenarios to share >:DD

Ive got 2 options for you, feel free to do the desired one, also this might a bit spicy?....

If you write for the other exchange students :

F!MC x Thirteen

(Desired characters are Barbatos ; Satan ; Solomon and Simeon but you can add or remove whoever your want cuz this is your writing and my opinion shouldn't really matter because your the one working on it and not me. )

Our lovely characters are looking for their darling human all across the RAD grounds since they have been gone since the last class and school's finished. They stroll through the halls to pause at the sounds of a familiar voice...WHIMPERING?!

DUN DUN DUNNNN

JOKING JOKING- LETS JUST CONTINUE

Peeking through the small crack in the door they witness our lovely MC layed down on one of the RAD desk, shirt unbuttoned and thrown aside, skirt flipped up, tears streaming down her flushed face, mascara running, lipstick smudged (I seem to have a thing for smudged lipstick-), quivering and trembling as they softly sob and moan Thirteen's name, their small frame trembling under the reapers touch who planted soft kisses and marks all over their body, decorating her thighs with various hickies and bite marks as she whispered sweet nothings into the humans ear, her hands gently tracing their sheep horns and fluffy tail which caused F!MC to squirm under her touch as their animals parts are especially sensetive <333

I just like making them jealous tbh

OR THE OTHER OPTION BECAUSE I'M A SIMP AND LOVE MALEWIFES :

Barbatos X F!MC X Simeon

X !!PLATONIC!! Luke

(I'LL HAVE TO MAKE THIS SHORT CUZ I NEED SLEEP 😭😭)

Luke seeing F!MC as a mother figure and his dad's just taking it as an opportunity to sweep their beloved human to themselves. Inviting her to have a sleepover at the purgatory hall for a sleepover was only innocent and all.... Till it wasn't

Simeon's bedframe collided with each of their movements, Simeon shushing their Darling with "Stay quiet little lamb, Luke's in the next room" or "Keep your voice down darling we don't want Luke to hear now so we?" While Barbatos is a little more dirty, whispering praises about how MC takes them both so well despite her small and "fragile" form, sweat dripping down their forms as her nails dig into Simeon's back, legs trembling as her brain slowly turns to mush from the pleasure, mindless moans falling from her swollen lips, during the of the moment one of then eventually slips something up like: "You easily accepted Luke as you child, I'm sure you wouldn't mind having more" or "How about we give you actual kids of your own instead?" <333

- M. 🪭🪷

M, SERIOUSLY YOU'RE TOO FULL OF AMAZING IDEAS I CANT WITH YOU😭😭😭 And since it took me so long to reply (again so very sorry) and but because there's a distinct lack of my queen Thirteen...

F!MC x Thirteen

Two Queens in a King Sized Bed

"I'll look over the classrooms once more." Barbatos sighed. "Maybe she fell asleep tired like she does in the library sometimes."

"Yes I'll go check there just for good measure." Satan shook his head.

"MC was supposed to go visit HOL with you wasn't she?" Simeon turned to Solomon.

"Well yes we were supposed to head there after this class- wait, do you hear something?" Solomon inched towards one of the empty classrooms. The rest of them followed.

Not one of them was expecting to see what they did. Their precious MC laid down on the teacher's desk with her shirt practically ripped off her and skirt hiked all the way up to the waist and panties pushed to the side.

"Thirteen..please..." You whimpered and begged underneath the reaper. She looked like she wanted to eat you whole.

"Please what, cupcake?" Thirteen smirked latching her lips to your neck as her pretty fingers plunged into your leaking hole again. You convulsed against her, moaning and clinging onto her arms.

"..too much..." You barely managed to string two words in this mindless state. She had been toying with you for an hour now, determined not to let you leave.

"Use your words, MC." She trailed a thumb over your trembling lips and down your neck and collarbone. "Else I cannot possibly help you, you know?"

"Thirteen-"

"And who knows I might make things worse?"

"Thirteen! Ahh~" You moaned as she caught you off-guard with her thumb pressing down on your puffed up clit.

"Are you perverts done enjoying the show? Cause I'm not willing to let you join." Thirteen side-eyed the door.

Satan and Simeon fall back, scrambling to get back their usual composure. The bulges in their pants are a dead give away as where they were looking the whole time. Even as you try to cover yourself up, you know they've already seen too much.

"Why you- you! How dare you!" Satan musters through unsettled breaths. He's not okay in the slightest. All he feels like doing is ripping Thirteen apart from you like an expired bandaid and lay himself down on you.

"Is a classroom really a place to be doing all this?!" Simeon smiles with gritted teeth. The nerve to just toy with an angel's will like this - to show such an irresistible side of his one temptation.

"Indeed. It is most inappropriate Thirteen. It seems I'll have to put you in detention again, please pack your things." Barbatos pretended to fix his glove as his fist tightened.

"Apologies Thirteen, I think it's almost time for another lesson with my apprentice so it's better if you get off then now." He smiled all the while a vein popped in his neck as he held out his hand to you.

Thirteen rolled her eyes, still holding you close. "Please as if you could ever pleasure MC the way I do. This cutie deserves way better than what you lot have got." She palmed your behind and gave it a gentle squeeze while smirking, watching the men fume silently in jealous rage.

"Thirteen. Detention room. Now please." Barbatos warned again. "Ugh. Demons." She pressed a sloppy kiss against your lips, before she left. "Don't worry, I'll catch you later, cupcake."

Barbatos was planning to put you in an entirely different detention room, somewhere in his quarters at the Demon Lord's Castle. Silk ropes and his ungloved hands awaited you there as he pulled you into the din lit room.

Simeon had lost all sense of personal space. He wasn't allowed you to have you in the way the others could. But there are so many ways to pleasure humans after all. His eager fingers and needy whispers had you begging for more.

Satan pounced on you at any opportunity he got. Against the bookshelves in his room, in secluded corners of the RAD library, even in a hidden alley on the way to HOL. He wouldn't stop until muffled screams slipped through your suppressed voice.

You don't remember the last time Solomon slept in his room. Every night, he towered at the end of your bed, his bare chest and shoulders glistening in the moonlight. Every night he pulled off your nightgown and rebranded you as his. No matter who had you during the day, you'd wake up the next day as his alone.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me oneshot #obey me satan #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me ask #obey me thirteen

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1wingedtraveler · 2 years

Text

Scaramouche's "training"

🍄Scaramouche x AMAB reader

🍄 SMUT, MDNI

🍄Warnings: no pronouns for the reader, Scara sucking a dildo, ejaculating toy, size king, dumbification, corruption kink

It was his own idea after embarrassing situation that took place few months ago.

It was his first time he triying to suck you off. He was absolutely terrible. He was a centuries old virgin even thought, he tried to deny it with all his might. Poor thing almost passed out first time he saw you naked. Playing a tough guy, he went down his knees, wanting show off how good he was. Immediately he tried shoving it whole down his throat which, of course, ended badly.

He slightly scratched you with his teeth while he fell backwards on the floor, red faced, in a coughting fit.

You teased him endlessly because of it. You jokingly said how could train him. Well, he ended up taking you up for it.

You started by buying dildos of diffrent sizes.

Starting small about 3.5 inches. The start was the hardest. Usually ending with him choking and pulling back half-way through. But gradually he became way better after following your instructions. He started using his tounge, bobbing his head faster and more rhythmically. After he grasped the basics it was time to move on bigger toys.

Another two went smoother. He still struggled, sure, but he was getting used to them faster.

Now it was his first time with a cock on bigger side. Slurping and gagging sounds could be heard across the room.

You were watching Scara struggle to take big monster dildo up his throat. It was purple, his favorite color. All kinds of bumps and ridges decorated it. You thought that regular ones were getting kind of boring so you changed things up a little

"Hey, have you forgotten? Eyes on me"

You wanted him to make constant eye contact while he sucked it. It was bringing you such joy, watching him strugge to keep his eyes opened and focused on you

You always asked him to wear make up for your little training. Watching his red lipstick get smuged, mascara running down his cheeks was a a sight to see

Moans were getting louder. Seems he was enjoying it a little too much. You could see a wet patch forming in his shorts. At first you thought he just wanted impress you but he really was turning into whore who loved cock down his throat. You smirked as watched how stupid he looked right now. Hazy, unfocused look in his eyes. Black tears running down his flushed cheeks down to his sloppy lips. He drooled all over himself and the toy. You decided to suprise him a little

You pressed a button on small remote you hidden in your pocket. Scaramouche's eyes shot up as he felt thick liquid go down his throat. It immediately bubbled out of the corners of his lips, some of it even leaked out his nose.

He stayed still, shocked and wide eyed, swallowing whatever the dildo had to give him.

He looked frozen in place for a while. You got called out to him and when he didn't respond, annoyed, you went up to him and pulled up his head by his hair. His lips slipped out of the toy with a pop, serval strings of saliva still connecting him to the toy. You were met with dazed weak smile. His eyes seemed to display pure ectasy

Looks like you trained your slut well

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #sub scaramouche #sub genshin impact #genshin impact smut #scaramouche x reader

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babeydollx · 1 year

Note

Ok so

a fic where Y/N is dating John B but is best friends with JJ and one day Y/N and John B get into a fight (for some reason) and JJ comforts her. If u wanna reverse the roles (John b comforts y/n) that’s fine too

luv u

Comfort From Another | JJ Maybank

Warnings: cursing, angst, some fluff, mentions of cheating, accused cheating, mentions of arguments

Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Pogue Reader

Summary: In which Y/N and her boyfriend John B get into a fight and Y/N goes to her best friend JJ for comfort.

Author's Note: thank you so much for the request, angel! I love u too, babes! and ugh omg I am so bad for writing on time sorry!

Tears filled up your vision as you walked down the road alone. It was 10pm and completely dark out. You shivered in the cold as you walked down the road, your knitted cardigan not doing much to keep you warm. You wouldn't be out here walking in darkness if you and your boyfriend John B wouldn't have gotten into that dumb fight. You couldn't believe after how long you both have been together and after how much you had done for him that he'd seriously accuse you of cheating on him.

And he accused you of cheating on him with fucking Rafe Cameron. The accusation disgusted you. How could he ever think that you'd want to date the kook king of Kildare Island? Rafe was fucking unhinged, he was terrible to the pogues and even to his own two sisters, and he was the most arogent and egotistical man on the goddamn island. The thought of you being with Rafe made you vomit in your mouth a little.

After 20 minutes of walking and thinking you arrived at a house. You looked over at the yellow house. It was JJ's house. You knew that anytime you were in trouble or hurting that JJ would always be there for you to comfort you, even when John B wouldn't. You looked up and saw light coming from his bedroom window. He was awake. You walked up the path to his house and once you arrived at his front door, you knocked on the door, hoping his father wasn't home as well.

You herd some shuffling coming from inside the house before the blonde boy opened up the front door. A smile appeared on JJ's face but it quickly faded when he saw your mascara running, your tear-stained cheeks and the overall state you were currently in. "Can I come in? Please..?" You asked quietly. "Yeah, of course." He said with a nod before opening the door up wider and stepping out of the way so you could come inside and then shut the door behind you.

"We can go up to my room." He said as he let you lead the way since you already knew your way around his house from being here multiple times. Once you both arrived in his room you broke down and started sobbing again. It broke JJ's heart to see you in emotional distress like this, he couldn't bare it. "Hey, cupcake.. what's wrong?" He said softly as he gently cupped your face. You looked up at him and sniffled, trying to find your words but it was hard to when your head was completely clouded by your emotions.

"J- John B and I got into a h- huge fight." You said as you began to sob again. He sighed before wrapping his arms around your body and holding you close to himself. "I am so sorry, Y/N. I know fights can be really tough. Do you mind me asking what it was about, but you don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable." JJ said softly. "No it's okay, I need to tell someone, so." You sniffled and sighed shakily. He nodded and just went quiet, letting you tell him what happened. You took a few breaths, composing yourself so you could get through telling JJ what happened without sobbing.

"So, today when I came home from work John B was really pissed off and I didn't really know why so I went to him and I asked him what was wrong. But then out of nowhere he started accusing me of cheating on him." You sniffled. "I- what the fuck- cheating? Who did he accuse you of cheating on him with?" He asked, his tone changing from soft to annoyed. "Fucking Rafe Cameron." You said as you rolled your eyes. He gagged when you said Rafe's name. "Fucking nasty dude. How the fuck did he think that you would ever sleep with the king of Kooklandia?" He scoffed.

"So we fought and yelled at eachother to the point where I was just standing there sobbing and I told him I was leaving for the night so he told me to go run off to my kook boyfriend but, I came here to you." You said softly as you looked up at his blue eyes. "John B is an idiot." JJ said with a sigh. "Well, I don't think he is an idiot, there was just miscommunication and he's too emotional to think rationally right now-"

"Stop making excuses for him, Y/N!" JJ said, cutting you off. "Yeah John B is a good guy and all don't get me wrong but he fucked up! He fucked you over! He didn't even have any damn proof of you cheating on him with Rafe but yet he freaked out at you anyways. That isn't right." He said angerly. "You deserve better than him. I could treat you better." He mumbled under his breath. You herd what he mumbled to himself and just sat there in shock. "What did you just say..?" You asked softly.

"Uhm-" JJ paused, his cheeks heating up from embarrassment. "I said that you deserved better." He said softly. "Yeah but, you said something after that." You said as you tilted your head. He looked away, looking out the window. He paused for a moment before turning back. He studied you before pulling you over and kissing you. The kiss was both loving and passionate. You were in shock but, you slowly kissed him back. After the two of you pulled away from eachother you just sat there in thought.

"We shouldn't have did that." You said. JJ stayed silent. "That was... a mistake." You sighed. He looked over at you. "Well... maybe we could keep making mistakes." He said as he looked at you, his eyes looking hopeful. The two of you were about to kiss again when you sighed and pulled away. "I'm sorry Jayj but... I- I can't do this.." You said, tears filling your eyes as you got up and walked out of his room before leaving his house. JJ got up off of his bed and walked over to his window, watching you walk away from his house. Sorrow filled his whole body as he watched you walk away, knowing that no matter how much he loved you, he could never have you.

Author's Note: tysm for reading!!

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ruinedbylanadelrey · 1 year

Text

King of Your Heart

Chapter 7 "It's what you do best"

summary: All that Frankie has ever wanted to be was your everything. After years of being best friends one phone call changes everything between the two of you.

inspired by The King by Sarah Kinsley

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader is 28-29, Frankie 38-39), friends with benefits -> situationship, Frankie isn't a dad, jealously, best friends with benefits, reader is lowkey toxic, reader wears makeup, reader has long hair, self-hate (both characters), princess and fish love to argue, FRANKIE IS A DICK, 'i'm sorry but' sex, biting, no y/n, pet names, possessiveness, triple frontier boys, Tom is dead, reader is a flirt

inside the world of king of your heart

playlist

series mainlist | main masterlist

taglist: @hiroikegawa

Growth is always happening. You were growing into the 'loving girlfriend' position. Frankie was growing into the 'frightened boyfriend' position. You started to be submissive to Frankie, no more of the tough princess anymore.

You were making sure you were to make him feel good, making sure he knows that is a real man, by giving him the best sex ever or just showering him with affirmations and small gifts. Did you grow enough to finally let yourself be happy? Frankie is wondering the same thing.

He's afraid of making the wrong move and you switch back to being heartless. His heart slams against his ribs every time you walk into the room. Your face is stuck in a permanent scowl until your gaze meets his and your face falls and then beams bright with your lovely smile. Frankie is afraid for the day that you won't look at him with wide eyes and a killer smile.

He knows you.

At least that is what he's telling himself.

How can his dream be like a chilling nightmare, no blood, no gore, just his inner thoughts playing like a film reel with you and him going around again arguing about being together?

He wakes in a sweat, you still on your side of the bed curled into yourself, that has never changed. You like your space when you sleep.

Your breathing is so shallow that you look like you barely breathing. Your hair laid out across the pillow and your mascara smudged under your eyes due to giving Frankie head and not taking off your makeup before you passed out before he could even undress you.

3rd night of it being about Frankie, and him not being able to touch you. Frankie runs his fingers through his hair collecting sweat, he walks into the bathroom and gets in the shower.

The sound of running water wakes you from your sleep, you look at the clock and it is only 2 a.m., you got home and blew Frankie 2 hours ago.

Frankie's side is deserted and you frown wondering why he is in the shower, you stand up, still wearing your clothes from date night. You took the opportunity of a shower, stripped from your clothes, and sleepily walked into the bathroom.

Steam clouding your sight, stumbling your way into the shower and Frankie hunched over himself bracing his body weight with one arm on the tiled wall.

"Frankie, what's wrong?" You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your wet body against his. You feel Frankie's body tense up and he stands up straight and rests his hands on your arms. This is for real. It's not a dream anymore. It's real life. Frankie is living with you by his side. Frankie needs to let go. He wants his love for you to grow and overtake the cracks in his heart.

Frankie takes a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to look in your eyes. He unwraps himself from you and turns to face you, his broad shoulders blocking any water hitting you, his body heat warming you up since you were left out in the cold. He looks at you through his lashes, your head tilted back to look up at him.

Should he tell you? Tell you that are you the reason he's not sleeping anymore? That he doesn't want to dream anymore if he keeps having these nightmares of you leaving?

"Just a bad dream," Frankie gives a half smile before kissing your forehead. You stare at Frankie trying to get out what his mind is screaming. Frankie drops his smile and turns off the water, he maneuvers you out of the way and leaves you behind in the shower you watch him walk away from you.

He grabs the towel and quickly dries his hair and his body then lastly tying the towel around his waist. You follow suit, you brushed past him to walk to your overnight bag dropping the towel then turning around to watch Frankie pull on a pair of the briefs.

Still, nothing coming from his mouth, you rolled your eyes and then turned around to your bag finding some panties and a shirt to wear. Frankie turns off the light, not waiting for you to get into bed. You get back into bed and face Frankie who is staring at the ceiling with tears dazzling with the minimal moonlight bleeding through the blinds.

"You scare me, princess," Frankie whispers in the night air, you bite your lip knowing exactly what he means by that. The ticking time bomb brought to attention, how much longer until this all blows up and you leave him with all the debris and rubble to clean up until you can return for a memorial. Your tears welled up and spilled over, this is the chance to cut the wires and stop the clock.

"Frankie, I promised you no more games. You have to learn to trust me-" One more cut of a wire, could stop the clock or blow everything up.

"You have to trust me."

"Well I fucking can't"

Shrapnel and fire hit you. Frankie hears you gasp and then starts to sob. You watch Frankie crumble.

"I can't trust you, you're going to wake up from this haze and realize you don't want a relationship. B-because that is what you do, you are heartless and run when things get good" Frankie blurted, fisting the sheets and his breathing is heavy. Your mouth fell open just taking in the pain before you start setting the world on fire.

"It's what you always do! I'm just living in this relationship day by day and it's suffocating. Your love is." Frankie didn't even know his mouth was still yapping away until you scoffed throwing the duvet off of you, pulling on your sweatpants. Shoving your things in your bag. Frankie scampers off the bed and blocks the door.

"Move, Fish," You said trying to find a fault in his blockade.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!" Frankie is pleading trying to keep you here, trying to wake himself from the sleep. But no this is real life. You are crying silently with your bag over your shoulder. You push him out of the way and run down the hallway to the living room shoving your feet into your shoes. Frankie is crying out for you, screaming your real name.

That is what caught your attention. You spin around to see him dressing himself and reaching out for you all at the same time. Frankie was angry at himself, his inner thoughts just had come out like word vomit.

"Fuck you, Frankie! So worried about me ruining our relationship but never even worrying about yourself!" You cried, the lump in your throat making your voice strain. You opened the door to the sky pouring down rain. You turn to look at Frankie one last time before dashing to your car. The front door slams behind you Frankie is still calling out for you.

"Yeah, just fucking leave like you always do! That's what you do best!" Frankie really needs to shut up but the hateful words keep spilling out of his mouth. The trunk of your car slams shut after throwing your bag in haphazardly. Frankie is pressing you against the car still spewing bullshit. The rain hits you like a shower. You kept wiping away tears and the rain from your eyes just letting Frankie get his mind empty.

Here we go around again!

Is Frankie worth it?

All he is doing making you see yourself for who you are. Yes, he is being a dick about it. But that is what guys do. They don't sugarcoat the truth. He's usually sensible when it comes to you but sometimes he has to be a dick to show you that what is wrong.

"You drive me fucking crazy. But I still fucking love you, princess!" Frankie finally takes a breath, he cups your face and crashes his lips onto yours. You put your hands on his chest to stop him from getting closer. Your force fails because Frankie will always be your weakness. He is taking everything you give him back, a tug at his bottom lip, allowing you in. You should be resisting his kiss but you couldn't help to melt into his mouth.

You swatted at his chest and pushed him away.

"Let me go!" You cried into the kiss, one final push, and Frankie pulled away, his hair wet and weighed down. You looked at him and saw his jaw clenching, his hands on your hips slipping under your soaked shirt.

Don't.

You fisted his shirt and pulled him back down to your lips, locking together. Your thirst for his taste. Rain slipped into your mouths while your tongues were fighting for dominance.

Frankie taps your hip and you jump to wrap your legs around his waist, going back into the house. The cold air hits your blazing skin, wet clothes thumping against the floor and moans filling the room along with the hum of the AC unit and the rain hitting the roof and windows.

Frankie is whispering praises while he sets you down on the dining table.

"I'm sorry princess," Frankie whimpers as he thrusts his hard cock into your warmth. You grip the edge of the table and lay back letting Frankie give you everything he's got. You opened your legs wider and Frankie is fucking into you with such force you are being pushed up the table and he climbs on top of it. You whined at the stretch of your walls, Frankie grips your hips to keep you in place. His lips trailing down your neck and travels to where your collarbone and shoulders meet.

His teeth sink into your skin when he pushed his thick cock deeper into your hot pussy. A faint taste of copper in Frankie's mouth. How does your blood taste so sweet too?

"F-fuck! I'm sorryy Frankie-I need you!" You moan dragging your nails down his back, Frankie welcomes the painful pleasure from your nails drawing blood. His pace picks up and starts pounding into your cunt. It was like he fucking his apology into you, making you fall apart with forgiveness, Frankie brings your legs to your chest and fucking deeper into you. The fast pace and the tip of his cock kissing the right spot making you scream and see stars when your release is coating his cock. Frankie doing what he does best. Making you cum and just fall in love with him.

"I love you," you and Frankie say in unison. Your pussy clenches around his hard length, making his thrust stutter and spilling into you. Frankie hovers above you, breathing heavily and groaning. His cum spilling out your hole and onto the table, Frankie brushing your hair and taking in how your chest and neck are flushed with your orgasm.

"I'm sorry," Frankie says hoarsely laying a kiss in the center of your chest.

"I'm sorry too but Frankie we can't be together if you don't trust me," You look away and stare at the walls. It's easy to forgive but should you do it?

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 7 months

Note

Sylvia lore. So much angst. I'm so sorry.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎☆⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

Sylvia does not wear a prom dress. It's glorified lingerie if anything, a short little dress found in the back of her closet; a relic of simpler times. Her revenge dress, as Dally always called it.

A thin cardigan tossed around her shoulders, a single silver button clasped in the middle across her brassiere.

Too-tall-heels that hurt her feet, and a single little purse held in both hands.

She tries a smile and a pathetic little twirl. Bleached, burned curls fall against her shoulders when she slows, carefully reaching to her eyes but smudging her makeup anyway.

Tim thinks she looks like a filly. Can't keep still, eyes moving back and forth too much. He tries to calm her, through the haze of cigarette smoke curling between them.

“Don't you have a dance to be at?”

“I can't believe we used to fit on that bed.”

The mattress sags. Sylvia pries open her clutch, hastily pulling out a small flask. It's done in a few gulps, rim stained red, and shoved back into her momma’s white clutch before she speaks again.

“I graduated today.”

“I know, I watched. Had to leave after your turn though—, business.”

She nods. “I wouldn't wanna stay the whole time either. Kinda had to though, bein’ in the middle ‘n’ all.” She scoffs. “Sylvia Jackson.”

Curls crumple when she lays her head on his shoulder. Neither move for a while. It's a warm evening, June of 1966. Tim tries not to get ash on her dress and Sylvia tries not to cry.

“I wish you didn't drop out. We could've done it together—, graduatin’. Hell, you coulda been my prom date… don't think they’ll let me drag you ‘long this time.”

Tim exhales, a careful arm around her frail shoulders. His chest rumbles when he speaks; sounding gruffer than he meant to.

“Do you even wanna go to this dance, doll?”

“I wanna get out, Tim.”

Out of Tulsa. Hell, maybe out of the fucking state. He can't blame her— he can barely get a word of common sense in before she’s off on a tangent, tounge that used to cut boys like him to ribbons in their youth.

They're not kids anymore.

“We could leave tonight, while everyone’s busy with the party. Wouldn't even have to tell anyone—, well, we could leave a note for the kids ‘n’ one for Buck. Hell, we could just bring Curls ‘n’ Ang with us—,”

Something in his chest tightens when he lays a scarred hand on her knee. “I can't leave, Sylv. You know that.”

“I know that,” she chuckles through quick tears spilling over her bottom lashes. “I was just-, just thinkin’. I've been doin’ a lot of that these days.”

Thinking of what she’ll do now. She was never an A+ student, college or anything after was out of the question. Not to mention the financial aspect of it all.

Thinking of that gymnasium. The walls done up in streamers, fruit punch and class cupcakes to be enjoyed by all.

She thinks of the Prom Court. King and Queen was no contest; who a better candidate than some dead Soc and his mourning girlfriend?

Sylvia wishes bitterly in her mind for them to move on as she imagines Sherri Valance dressed to the nines, twirling delicately with that plastic crown held to her chest, a match if tiara placed atop her bombshell hairdo.

She thinks of the warm black earth in front of his headstone. It's his birthday carved there. It's his name staring back at her. It doesn't seem real; it never does. She still thinks there’d been some kind of mistake. Some other hood torn apart by bullets under harsh street lamps that brutal night in August.

Dally could always out run the pigs. Always.

Dally never left her for this long.

Never.

“I dunno what to do.”

“You're gonna go to your prom, Sylvia. ‘N’ you're gonna be the best lookin’ girl there.” He tucks hair behind her ear, wipes the pad of his thumb under her eye where mascara had begun to run. “You're gonna call me in the mornin’, alright? We’ll go for coffee. Like old times.”

”I’ll call you tomorrow,” she parrots shaikily. Tim nods, Sylvia smiles. “I should get goin’… I don’t wanna miss my prom.”

“Go get ‘em, cowgirl,” Tim calls. He can hear her heels click against the floor the whole way through the hall and down the stairs, all the way to the front door. It slams back into place as quickly as it was thrown open. He stands. Just enough to watch his oldest friend teeter down the sidewalk in her too-tall-heels.

Sylvia will miss her prom. She’ll empty her change into the hand of the bus driver, taking her ticket and watching Tulsa pass by. The sun dips below rooftops, and she’ll make her way into a seedy little bar on the other end of greaser territory. She’ll meet a boy there; her age, another relic from years ago. William— Billy, as he always preferred, Dawson.

He’ll buy her a drink, she’ll repay him with a dance or two. He’ll buy as many drinks as it takes to keep her happy, clinging to his arms as she slides out of her heels and against his chest. She’ll thank him for the fun, planting a quick, deep kiss against his lips.

When he invites her to his car, she’ll follow.

His hair is brown rather than white-blonde. His eyes, every other colour than that pale, lifeless, blue. But tonight, he smells of tobacco and night. Her nails dig into his leather jacket just right, and the way he holds her.

So tightly, so warm, so possessively.

In a way so sickeningly familiar, Sylvia can only push herself closer against his bare chest the next morning, her sorry excuse of a prom dress pushed well past her thighs.

Tim will understand, she tells herself as she settles into his grip. Tim always understands.

i knew where we were going, i knew, and you still had me sucked into the story and gasping when she met up with billy. that’s the sign of a wonderful storyteller-

#dillo’s replies #sophie i guess13 #can’t tell you how many times i read this #please expect something in return #i gotta get you something #you bestow greatness upon me #it’s only fitting that i give you something too #dunno what it’ll be #but it’ll be something

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luminnara · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your writing💖 I was wondering if I could request a Poly! Lost Boysxreader giving them head? How would they react to it? Do they really moan? Etc. Thank you

Warnings: nsfw obviously lol, dom/sub undertones

How the boys would react to you giving them head:

David

Just imagine the feeling of him grabbing your head or tangling his fingers in your hair and guiding you up and down his cock. Even if you surprise him by getting down on your knees and tugging at his pants, he wants to be in charge.

He’s the sort to use you more like a fleshlight, preferring it when you’re the one moving rather than holding you still and fucking your mouth

Gentle, but still very firm, and he loves it when you look up at him with big, tear filled eyes while you choke on his cock

Will only praise you if you’re actually doing a good job, but like let’s be honest, you always do a good job for him

Lots of moans, low, sultry ones because he’s in charge and he doesn’t fucking care who hears.

“That’s it, show me what that filthy fucking mouth is good for.”

Will make you swallow every last drop, no spitting allowed

Dwayne

So caring and gentle. He knows how strong he is, and he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

Holds your head loosely, preferring to let you set your own pace and pleasure him the way you want to. No matter what you do, he’s going to love it.

Pay attention to his balls PLEASE he would love it if you squeezed or even sucked on them

And pay attention to the way his abs flex and tighten, it’s super hot 🥵

“Fuck, baby, you look so good with your lips wrapped around me like that...”

Wants to feel you swallowing around his cock, but will try to keep you from gagging or crying unless you’re into that 💦

Paul

696969696969

I mean seriously I feel like he is so full of unbridled sexual energy that he can’t NOT eat you out while you give him head, he just needs something else to do or else he’ll lose his mind

That means that you get to feel the vibrations from his moans against your pussy 😈

And he is LOUD

there is no shame in that boy whatsoever, he doesn’t give two shits about someone else hearing

Loves public sex and would go wild if you gave him head in a bar restroom

“Hell yeah doll, show me how you can take this whole cock down your throat...”

Loves to Fuck your face until he cums 😌

Marko

Ive said it once, I’ll say it again: this little fucker

He is a DEVIL

he looks so sweet and innocent but all he wants to do is pin you down and shove his cock into your mouth

Will fuck your throat until it’s raw

Loves to see your makeup get messy. Watching your mascara run down your cheeks as you choke on his cock is such a turn on for him

BUT he’ll wipe your tears away and sing so many praises at you afterwards. He knows he’s demanding and he’s the king of sweet aftercare 💖

“Look at my good girl...you like the way I fuck your throat? You wanna swallow my cum?”

Just wants to absolutely ruin you

#the lost boys x oc #lost boys x reader #the lost boys x reader #lost boys imagine #david x reader #dwayne x reader #paul x reader #marko x reader

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doubleleoenergy · 3 years

Text

Daddy Issues

Nobody does it like you do. I know how much it matters to you. I know that you got daddy issues

Pairing: Grayson Dolan x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, fingering (female receiving), oral (male receiving), Daddy Kink, passionate sex

Word Count: 2361

Author’s Notes: My GRAYstans unite! I have unlocked a new passion for Daddy!Grayson. Also, my headers either feature the reader image as Malia Tate from Teen Wolf or Jane Villanueva from Jane the Virgin.

“Are you SURE you want to make Sledge’s doghouse from scratch?” You asked, following your boyfriend, THE Grayson Dolan, into the backyard. Grayson and you had just adopted a puppy that he was FINALLY not allergic to, and he had become quite obsessed with wanting the absolute best for your new pup

“Babe, do you REALLY want our son to have some basic and boring dog house for the backyard, or wouldn’t it be more fitting for him to have a MANSION like the king he is?” Grayson suggests, wagging his thick eyebrows at you.

You gently shove his side, rolling your eyes at his response. “Fine, Sledge and I will just MONITOR your progress by the pool.” You call back to the pup, watching him gallop towards you both, wagging his tail. Grayson moves towards the garage to bring all of the wood and materials needed for the project onto the grassy area next to the pool, arranging the pieces by length.

Sledge lays down in the grass next to your lounge chair as you sit down, tightening your lavender string bikini bottoms on your hips. Today was GORGEOUS, the sun shining and the heat not sweltering, allowing for the perfect day to tan while you watched Grayson work.

You decided to start by tanning your back, lying with your face propped on a towel in the foldout chair. Your hands hold your phone out, scrolling through Instagram as you soaked in the summer rays.

Grayson started his plans by sawing the boards to the perfect length, pulling a pair of safety goggles over the top of his tousled long locks. You eye him carefully from where you lay, watching as he handled the saw with ease, cutting the board to its perfect size before continuing on to the next piece. Your eyes linger on the curve of his back muscles squeezing through the black tank top that clung to his figure.

Sledge barked, pulling you from your daze, demanding attention beside you. You place the phone by your side, smiling down as you sit up slightly to provide your furbaby with the attention he craved. “Are you watching Daddy work? Well, so is MOMMY.” You coo, running your fingers through his soft fur.

A half hour goes by, Grayson diligently putting together the pieces of wood, sweat dripping from his hair down through his beard. You decide it’s a good time for a hydration break, Sledge following you back inside the kitchen where you grab two bottles of water along with a dish to pour some out for your pooch.

“Gray, how about you take a quick break?” You chirped, approaching him as he leaned over and inspected his work. You hand him one of the water bottles, opening the other and pouring half into the dog dish you set beside your feet, Sledge lapping happily at the bowl.

“How’s it looking so far, boss?” Grayson teased, standing back to let you inspect his work. You tilt your head from side to side, putting your fingers out as a ‘frame’, closing one eye and then the other. Grayson let out a laugh as he watched you pretend to inspect like a ‘real’ boss, a huge grin spreading on his face.

“I’d say it looks sturdy so far, keep up the good work, EMPLOYEE.” You place a kiss to his cheek, sauntering back over to your lounge chair, sitting down to let the rays tan the front of your body.

After a few minutes of lapping at the water bowl Sledge moves back over to you, rolling happily in the grass. Grayson feels sweat drenching his black tank top, a mixture of the heat of the sun and the work he was putting into his project. He grabs the hemline and tugs it off, tossing the sweaty material in the grass next to him.

You can’t help but stop and OGLE at him when he removes it, a sinful image playing out in your mind. Your eyes roam over his sculpted chest, remembering how it felt when you ran your hands up and down his abdomen. Your eyes move up to look at his hair, long locks sticking to his forehead as he continues his work on the dog house. Lastly, your eyes fixated on his hands, watching the veins protruding as he hammered nails into the wood, forming the outside walls of what would be Sledge’s humble abode. Grayson looked DELICIOUS, and you couldn’t help the way your stomach flip-flopped at the sight, his cerulean swim trunks clinging to his hips.

“Hey G-Gray, I’m gonna go inside, watch Sledge for me, please?” He nodded, eyes fixated on the task at hand. You took one last glance in his direction, taking a mental picture before pulling open the screen door and heading directly towards your shared bedroom.

You needed relief after watching him work, he wasn’t even TRYING to seduce you and yet you still felt dampness between your thighs. You opened the bedroom door and shut it behind you. Your body stumbled forward, flopping back against the bed, shimmying out of your bikini bottoms, tossing them to the floor.

Your eyes fluttered closed, REWINDING the image of Grayson working outside in your head, the back of your lids acting as a screen for the projected image. Your delicate fingers slid down your chest to your core, circling around your bundle of nerves and letting out a soft moan. You pictured the way he tossed his shirt off, how the sweat GLISTENED on his skin, that perfect beard you refused to let him shave.

Fingers move lower, parting your folds and moving in and out of your core, arching your back against the bed. You continued pumping your fingers in and out, feeling that familiar buildup in your chest when you heard the bedroom door open, Grayson taking in the sight of you.

“What are you doing, babygirl?” He asked, arms crossing against his bare chest. Your eyes snap open, sitting up straight and pulling the blanket over you. As if he HADN’T seen what you were doing just moments ago.

“N-Nothing, I think I am just exhausted from the sun. I figured I needed to lay down and rest a bit.” You stuttered, a hand moving from below the blanket to scratch nervously through your locks.

Grayson’s eyes grew dark as he approached you on the bed, standing just at the edge of it and holding your gaze. “Babygirl, don’t LIE to me, you know I don’t like it when you lie.” He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you, eyes still locked on yours. “Were you TOUCHING yourself?” He asked.

Your cheeks start to feel hot, a rosy blush spreading across them. “Y-Yes, I was. You just looked so good outside and I didn’t want to bother you while you were working so I came in here and-” Grayson holds out his hand, silencing you before you can finish your sentence.

“You’re forgetting the rules, babygirl, REMIND me what they are.” He questioned, his voice lowering an octave. Your bottom lip quivers, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. “N-No touching myself, only DADDY gets to touch me.” You whispered, your gaze darting to the bed to avoid his stare.

“Look at ME.” He demanded, his tone making your eyes snap up immediately. “Yes, only daddy gets to touch you, and what happens when we disobey, babygirl?” You swallow the lump in your throat, eyes going wide.

“Y-You, you get PUNISHED.”

“Exactly.” He responds, two fingers beckoning you towards the edge of the bed. “Turn around, ass up.” You follow his instructions, crawling to the edge of the bed and turning around. Grayson’s fingers grab your neck, pushing your head down against the mattress. “You’re going to count to ten for me, if you stop counting we’ll start all OVER.”

The first smack across your ass made your pussy tighten, wincing slightly at the burn of his thick hand against your skin. “O-One.” You sputtered.

“Good girl, keep counting.” He commands, sending another smack to your flesh.

“T-Two...three...four...five.” Tears are welling up in your eyes, a mix of both pleasure and pain through each strike to your tanned skin. You don’t want to falter though, you know it’ll be MUCH worse if you add more slaps to the count.

“S-six...seven...eight...nine...ten.” Tears are now flowing down your face, staining your cheeks in the light coat of mascara you had applied that morning. Grayson moves the pressure off your neck, letting out a deep breath.

“What a good GIRL, see, I knew you could be good for me.” He flexes his hand in a fist and then stretches it out over and over, relaxing the muscles as the sting starts to dissipate. “I think it’s time that I get a THANK YOU.” You know EXACTLY what he’s asking, turning around to face him, eyes level with the thick bulge in his shorts.

“Yes daddy.” Your fingers tug down the shorts, his thick cock springing free against his chest. You lick your lips before reaching up, taking his cock into your hand and SLOWLY stroking it. Your mouth parts, lips curling around the tip, sucking and licking before moving them lower and lower down the base.

His fingers move to grip your hair, a groan of delight leaving his lips. “That’s it baby, open your mouth, let me fuck that perfect mouth of yours.” You do as you’re told, relaxing your jaw and letting him slide further. Not only was he thick, but LONG, tears welling up as he pushed all the way in, your nose touching the skin right below his belly button. He uses your hair as his reins, bucking his hips in and out, a mixture of your spit DRIPPING from the sides of your lips down your chin and neck. Grayson keeps his eyes on you, watching you sputter around him, his teeth grinding together.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He pulls out abruptly, a string of saliva linking your mouth to his cock, and you feel utterly EMPTY. Grayson tilts your head up with his hand, ushering you to get up. “That’s enough, don’t want to cum in your mouth today, want to cum inside you.”

His hands push you back against the bed, untying the bikini top you still wore, revealing your bare breasts to him. His hand moves to grip his cock, rubbing the red and swollen tip against your folds, a dark smile on his face. “You are already SO wet, babygirl. Do you want me to fuck you?” You nod up at him but you know that’s not what he wants, he wants you to use your WORDS.

“Yes, Gray...I mean, daddy. Please fuck me, want to feel you cum inside me.” The words are satisfaction, the code that unlocks his motions as he pushes inside of you, working in slowly as your walls INSTINCTIVELY tighten around him, pulling him deeper. After a moment he bottoms out, holding himself there, looking down at you.

“So fucking tight, babygirl. Your cunt was MADE for me.” He moves his hips, pulling out almost completely before slamming himself back in, eliciting a whine from your throat. He continues at the same pace, pulling almost completely out and pushing back in fast, your voice becoming louder which each thrust.

“Gotta keep it down, you know Ethan is still sleeping. Wouldn’t want to wake him up. Or maybe you do, huh?” He asked, two of his fingers snaking between your breasts down to your clit, circling it. “Want Ethan to know that you’re a SLUT for my cock? How your daddy is the only one that can please you?”

You moan loudly, your voice hoarse from the way he fucked your throat earlier. “Yes daddy, I want EVERYONE to know I’m yours.” His hips slap into you over and over, fingers circling your clit with more pressure now. He can tell you’re close to coming, your walls clenching and unclenching him, your thighs shaking as his own hold you apart.

“Uh-uh, gotta ASK if you can cum babygirl, you know better.” Grayson’s free hand moves to your neck, wrapping around it JUST enough that your breathing gets harder, but not enough that you might pass out.

“Fuck, PLEASE daddy, want to cum on your cock, want to show you how good I can be.” You choked out, picturing the way his hands had moved around the wood and saw earlier that were now around your throat.

Grayson is pleased by your words, eyes focusing on your face and his fingers rubbing against you faster. “Yes, babygirl, CUM on my cock.” He can barely finish his sentence before your orgasm hits you, crying out loudly, tears flowing from your eyes with pleasure. He continues his movements, feeling your walls tightening around him and knowing he can’t hold on anymore. “Gonna cum, baby, gonna coat your walls with me, want you LEAKING my cum.” A groan of satisfaction leaves his lips, his cock pressed deep inside you as he spurts thick ropes of cum into you. Your eyes roll back into your head, closing them as you continue coming down from your high, his hand moving off of your neck so you can fully breathe. His hips stutter briefly, letting you milk his cock before he pulls out, noticing your dazed state.

“Hey...come back to me baby.” He whispered, moving to lay down next to you, placing gentle kisses all over your face. Your eyes FINALLY flutter open, a lazy smile on your lips. “Sorry about that, you really did just look so good I couldn’t help myself.” Grayson let out a deep chuckle, tugging you into his side, his fingers roaming up and down your back.

“Don’t apologize baby, next time just tell me and I’ll stop to USE you how you need to be used.” He glances at the door, hearing a whine from Sledge, pulling him back to reality. “Our SON wants you.”

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nope, YOU can deal with him now, you fucked all of the energy out of me.”

Tagging my GRAYstans: @midnightf | @certainaesthetic

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader smut #fanfiction #doubleleoenergyworks

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bibbykins · 3 years

Note

BESTIE. Idk if you’ve answered this before because all the kinks are just in one gigantic jumbled mass of filth in my head but: which one (if any) of the boys see bunny tear up once when they’re fucking her (because the dick is just so good) and just go absolutely feRAL. (Bonus: who makes it a mission to maker her cry ( in a good GOOD way) during sex and who’s like if it happens it happens but not actively trying to make her tear up) —🦋

Warnings: 18+, dacryphilia, teasing, spit, slight sadism, dom/sub dynamics alluded to

This ask is in reference to The Household's Bunny series

EDIT: I added Hosoek in bc I was a sleepy dummy who forgot him

I love these kink asks pls keep them coming!!

I didn't even have to finish reading when my mind was like: Jungkook lmaooo!! I won't lie, they all have a lil dacryphilia kink but as far as wanting to make her cry? Jungkook

Are we surprised? No, he's such a little shit and the moment he sees her eyes water during sex?? Hope she didn't have any plans today or tomorrow she is going to be busy and soreeeee. He's a sadist through and through and he loves making her cry and mockingly cooing at her about how much of a needy crybaby she is AHHHHHHH definitely the type to over stimulate her and be like "what? Are you gonna cry? I thought you wanted to cum? Why are you being such a little crybaby, huh?" He is NOT above licking the tears off her face

Jin is more the type who coos when she cries but doesn't actively try for it. He'll be like "Awh, my pretty girl is crying? What's the matter, huh? Can't talk straight, hm? Poor you." He's a soft but passionate lover so the sensations can get pretty intense with a man as experienced as him plus, he was a general doctor before choosing his specialty, he knows his way around a woman

Yoongi is similar but he's more teasing and will be like "Aw, you're crying? Okay, I'll stop." And all movements will stop, making her cry and beg and he'll tease her the whole time. He's one for edging the most tbh. He'll wipe your tears and maybe kiss them too.

Hoseok is a soft dom with little self control so while his lack of control wants to absolutely RAIL her, he also is like but my baby awh However, and here me out, drool. He'll be like, "What a pretty, messy, bunny I have crying and drooling for my cock, so cute." As his fingers are in her mouth, messily smearing her spit all over her chin while she cries

Namjoon is king of corruption kink so he'll see the tears and be like "You'll mess up your pretty makeup if you keep blubbering. How are you gonna look like a pretty little housewife with mascara running down your cheeks?" He says this but it turns him on to see her all prim and proper and effectively ruin her.

Jimin will internally be like oh shit, am I hurting her? So he'll ease up and then when she starts begging him to keep going harder he's like oooooh and goes, "Awh, my poor baby feels so good she's crying?" And he thinks it's so cute

Taehyung is the kind to make a bet that he can get her pretty little eyes to tear up or cry before her first orgasm, no edging. However, he doesn't do this bet each time and he doesn't particularly want her to cry unless he's made the bet but if she does he'll get pretty sappy about it, "It's okay to cry baby, I'm just glad you're feeling as good as you make me feel." He's a romantic when he's not a relentless tease.

Oof that was long lmao my bad!

#ask #🦋 anon #yandere bts #bts series #bts fanfic #the household bts #yandere bts smut #bts smut

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starlight-writes-stuff · 3 years

Note

Hey lovey! Could I request a mcyt headcanon thing of how they each are in bed?

hi angel , and of course ! as always im sorry this took forever lmao . hope u enjoy (((:

AYO LOOK AT THESE : smut ! rough sex , choking , scratching , hair pulling , breeding / unprotected sex (wrp it b4 u tap it , bbys) , overstimulation , light bondage , i think thats all (:

reblogs are always appreciated <3

dream :

out of all the feral boys dream is the roughest for sure

it's all his gamer rage coming out

he truly has to control himself / hold back

because he wants to fuck you until you cant remember your own name

but doesnt want to break you

he’s not the biggest fan or foreplay , only because he’d much rather feel you wrapped around him

but he loves to go down on you

would prep you with his fingers because lord knows you’ll need it

and once you started to squirm he’d get so cocky

“if you cant take my fingers , you definitely cant take all of me, baby .”

so many pet names - baby , kitten , pretty girl , bunny , bun , my little whore

he’d make you cum twice on his fingers alone

and wouldn’t fuck you until he was aching for any sort of stimulation

wouldn’t use protection (w your consent !!!)

the thought of his cum deep inside you , painting your insides … it fucks him UP

you KNOW clay would be the motherfucker to slap his dick on your pussy

would groan at the sound of how wet you were for him

he’d run the tip of his cock through your folds and collect your arousal

until you were begging him to fuck you - and even then he’d wait a moment longer

he’d ease in slowly , making sure you felt every single inch

and would praise the FUCK out of you

“look so pretty taking my cock , bunny”

he’d stop to let you adjust to his length, but he’d be so arrogant as you bucked your hips

“want more , sweet thing ?”

you’d just nod , the pressure building in your tummy too much to produce words

and clay would grab at your chin so fuCKING agressivley

“i asked you a question , whore .”

he would just ruin you (in the most respectful way possible)

you’d cum for the third time within mere seconds

the room would be filled with the sound of harsh , slapping skin

you moans mixing with his - it was like a symphony to him

at some point your legs would go completely limp from the shear amount of pleasure clay was providing

and he’d circle an arm around your hips , holding your body to his as you came yet again

he’d get progressively less vocal as he approached his high , his raspy moans turning to rough growls and groans

and he’d bury himself deep inside of you as he came , muttering scratchy praises into the crook of your neck

as you and clay started to come down together it would be a complete 180

he’d pull out so gently , watching the way his cum dripped out of you

and would press sweet , tender kisses to every inch of skin he could get his mouth on

clay would run soft fingers over every bruise , every mark he left on your skin

admiring his work

he loves the way you look after sex - all fucked out and dewy eyed

would wet a washcloth with warm water and clean you up while murmuring over and over how much he loved you

the two of you would fall asleep pretty quickly after in a tangled mess of limbs

sex with him is quite the workout

george :

gogs <3

i have many thoughts on this subject yall

wakin up in the mornin , thinkin about so many things

would LOVE foreplay

something about being so intimate but not actually fucking is so <3 to him

he loves every single moment of it

starting from when a simple peck turns to something deeper

george’s tongue rolling over yours as he cups a hand under your jaw

would do the thumb thing™ on your cheek

his free hand would roam up and down the curve of your hips

then up and under your shirt

the way that your breath hitched would make him sh i v e r

and george would start kissing down your neck and over your jaw to your neck

loves hickeys

and biting you

he’d take yall to some place soft if you weren’t already there and start to undress you

adores the action of getting you out of your clothes and insists on taking your shirt off himself

is obsessed w your titties

rolling your nipples between his fingers

sucking on the sensitive nubs , flicking his tongue over them until you could cry from pleasure

then leaves sloppy , hot kisses all the way down your body

is so good with his hands

knows the exact way to curl his fingers inside you

and is very good at keeping a rhythm that pushes you over the edge

but truly have you seen that boys hands because like

he’s all about pleasuring you in bed

it's his number one priority

and he knows your body incredibly well

the boy knows how to make you cum without even trying

yall have experimented and figured out what feels best

and he’s perfected those techniques

on the non physical side of things however

sex with george would be s i n f u l

the things he would say to you …

and in his fucking ACCENT no less

starlight has a voice kink

god he would talk so fucking dirty

the filthiest things falling from his lips as he’s thrusting in and out of you

he’d be so vocal

“just like that , love ,” he’d pant before throwing his head back

his fingers would dig into your hips as his moans turned to whimpers

the two of you would reach your highs one after the other

but george always makes sure that you finish first

sapnap :

we’re just gonna address this right away

daddy kink

(“call me big daddy” , sapdaddy , need i say more ?)

pretty dominant but not necessarily aggressive

more mentally dominant if that makes any sense ???

wants you so far in subspace that you’re all his

dumbification is so hot to him

“baby doll , darlin’ , sweet girl”

degrades you but in a soft way :,)

“look so pretty on my cock , whore”

“my sweet little slut , taking me so well”

spits in your mouth and holds your jaw until you swallow

loves to fuck your throat

literally uses your mouth as his personal fleshlight

hold your hair up for you bc he’s a gentleman

but would rather have it in pigtails

thrusts into your mouth hhhhhhhhhh

wants to see mascara tears and won't stop until he does

loves to give you facials

then takes 1476592837310982 pictures of you like that

his my eyes only on snap is 99% your face painted with his cum

honestly likes to cum anywhere he can see it

tits

backshots

on your stomach

l o v e s your thighs

and yall have absolutely done thigh jobs

would fuck you until you cried then marvel at the look of your tears

because you look so pretty when you’re entirely overwhelmed by pleasure

your face flushed a pretty pink

eyes watering with crystal clear drops

then would make you cum again

“one more , sweet girl , you can take one more”

and you’d just nod , so deep into subspace that he words were like spells

how could you say no to him ?

aftercare KING though , would take such good care of you

would run you two a warm bath and carry you to the tub

bc lord knows you cant walk after him

and he’d run his hands allllll over your body , soothing any rough marks he may have left

at the end of the day he absolutely worships you

karl :

karl jacobs , love of starlight’s life

i just think that he <3

karl has stated that he’s on the ace spectrum

so i think that sex with him wouldn’t be near as much about physicality

its about the intimacy and connection that comes with that for yall

and mans would make you feel so loved ,,,

he’d kiss every single inch of your body

and hold you so close to him as you two were getting undressed

loves kisses when yall are shirtless

because he can feel your heartbeat on his

and they sync up the longer u lay there

would go down on you for hours if he could holy fuck

he loves eating you out , drawing pretty moans from your lips

and is so good at it bye .

he can easily make you cum with just his skilled tongue

and fucks you with it i-

one of his favorite feelings in the world is your thighs tightening around his head

and your hands tugging at his hair as he makes you come undone over and over

you’re his favorite taste in the entire world

sex with karl would be sweet and soft and so so so intimate

it would be so loving

he’d have you look him in his eyes as he slid in

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnggngngnngngnngggggggg

and would stay buried deep inside you , not moving until you adjusted to him

karl’s packing i just know it

moans your name quite a lot

and murmurs how much he loves you , everything he loves about you inbetween thrusts

he’d hold your hands while you two made love

his grip tightening as he got closer

karl would make DAMN sure you came first

but loves cumming at the same time if you can hold off for him

the two of you would stay like that , chest to chest for a while after your highs

karl still tucked inside you

he’d love cockwarming dont @ me

is a fluffy mess after sex and always wants to fall asleep after

with you in his arms

quackity :

sex with alex >>>>>>

yes

please

he’d be . so fucking good . at everything he did .

alex loves foreplay

lapdances

bc he’s so obsessed with your body

and having you put on a show just for him ?

turns him on like nothing else in the world

lets you show off for as long as possible before he finally picks you up and throws you on the bed

hands hands hands

alex is so skilled with his fingers and knows how to hit all the best spots

has absolutely made you squirt on his fingers and is so cocky about it

has you hold eye contact while he eats you out

and the minute you break it , he stops

would have his dick in your mouth 24/7 if he could

and loves the way you look with your tongue swirling around him

keeps a hand on the back of your head and pushes down so gently

alex is definitely a soft dom

when he cant hold off from fucking you any longer he’s no stranger to tying your hands up

usually with his belt

fucks you in missionary with your legs over his shoulders

but also loves when you're on top

alex is a titty guy

such a boob guy

and absolutely covers your chest in hickeys and bite marks

getting to play with them while you ride him ?? heaven

once your hips give out from feeling so good , alex would lift you up and thrust into you

his fingertips digging into your skin , leaving pretty purple bruises

would play with your clit as he fucks up into you

“cum for me , princess”

loves cumming inside you

breeding kink

just saying

and watching it drip out of your pussy gets him hard all over again

his voice goes so deep while he moans

and calls you pretty names in spanish

vvvv vocal and loves when you match that

“show me how good im making you feel , baby”

120 notes · View notes

thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Lost In Zero Gravity (P.12)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twelve) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 5,997 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: This is longer than normal, my b. And did I also just watch Iron Man 2 recently? Maybe. Also, I can’t help but to mention Pepper because I love her so much. Even if it’s off to the side. She’s still a queen. I also apologize for the French because I used google translate.

Part Eleven || Part Thirteen || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

One of their guys – Dasco, you had been briefly introduced to, you had not seen him before tonight – was waiting outside the car since he was sitting in the middle row of seats and had to put the seat forward to let you into the back. You had no desire to sit in between Steve and Tony again after what they had just subjected you to. As you approached the car, you did not break stride as you shoved the seat back so you were able to maneuver your way into the middle set of seats in front of them and you settled into the center one.

Dasco made no move to get into the car beside you you saw out of your peripherals as you reached to grab your seatbelt. You heard movement from your left side where Steve was sitting but it stilled all of a sudden.

“Y/N,” you heard Tony start dangerously from the right. “You’ve got ten seconds to rethink that and get your ass back here.”

You considered ignoring him and buckling your seatbelt. But you thought of Dasco – or even worse, one of them – dragging you from the car in front of your grandma who could still plainly see the SUV in the driveway. Exhaling annoyed, you stiffly got up and got back out of the car. Dasco flipped the seat forward again and you peered into the back where Steve and Tony were waiting. Steve’s hand on his knee was taut, his stare hard; your first obstacle into the back seat was getting past him. You crawled in, him not moving an inch, causing you to have to drag your ass across his legs in the process. You plopped into the center seat between them, snug as a bug.

Tony patted your leg, “Good choice. See? Goes so much better when the rules are followed.”

You said nothing not trusting yourself to be calm, digging your hand down by Steve’s thigh to grab the seatbelt clicker. He was still unmoving, and you held back a scowl having to dig deeper, brushing his ass. Clicking your seatbelt in place, you sat back, staring at nothing. You wiped at your eyes again, trying to clean up your mascara.

Tony was already on his tablet, working on something. You could not make heads or tails of what he did, so you did not even bother trying to pay attention. You snuck a look and saw Steve was looking at his stocks. Typical. Bending forward, you grabbed your purse and got your phone out. Opening up your décor app, you set to trying to distract yourself with it.

“Y/N, I think you also owe Terrence an apology,” Steve told you firmly. “Just so you make all the amends you need to for your stupid actions as of late.”

Your gaze snapped to the review mirror where you saw Terrence peering at you from the driver’s seat. He was not going to move the car until you did as you had been told.

“I’m sorry for drugging you,” you said stiffly. “You were an innocent bystander.”

You noticed Tony’s lips twitch like he was going to smirk, amused. He hid it though when he saw he had drawn your attention.

A few moments of silence passed before Terrence replied, “At least you gave me some good vodka to bring me down.”

<><><>

You fell asleep along the drive, waking up with your head resting on Steve’s shoulder, much to your annoyance. You had purposely fallen asleep with your head back on the seat, but you must have rolled to the side. You rolled away from him, trying to make as much space as possible which was virtually impossible, but you tried, nonetheless. Steve cracked his eyes open to side eye you, having dozed off himself.

Looking out the windows, you noticed you were back in the city, very close to home.

Picking up your purse, you dug in. Your brow furrowed as your hand searched not finding what you were digging for.

“Looking for something?” Steve asked dryly, eyes fully open now.

Settling back into the seat, you asked tightly, “Can I have my phone back?” On cue, Tony handed you a phone, but it was not your phone. Irritated, you said, “This isn’t mine.”

“It is now,” Tony answered. “Your SIM card is in this one now, it’s just under my plan. It was hell tracking you down with your other one. Thankfully, Tatiana doesn’t like her shit being broken and your grandma was nice enough to tell Daryl what club you were at. But I will not be wasting my time or energy like that again even with that help.”

You rounded on him as much as you could in the confined space and demanded, “What did you do to Tatiana?”

Tony shrugged, “Nothing to her. Just broke some shit. Like I said.” Clenching your teeth, you stared down at the new phone. Tony reached over tapping it, “Like I said, everything’s in there from your old phone.” Tears stung your eyes and you sat back defeated. “Love, come on. It was just a phone.”

“I liked my old phone case,” you said pathetically. That was true and it would not fit this new phone. But it definitely went deeper. Your phone was one thing that had been yours and yours alone. You had paid for it yourself, you had your own plan, it was something independent.

“Then order it again but sized to this,” Tony said flippantly. “It’s not that hard, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to do that! I want my phone!” you exclaimed, on the brink of absolutely losing it. You tossed the phone past your legs onto the ground in frustration.

“Stop being a brat. It’s not cute,” Steve snapped from beside you, his hand coming to your thigh and his fingers digging in painfully. “Now pick up that damn phone and stop with the dramatics. I’ve frankly had my fill of them. You’ve reached your quota, Y/N. Reel it back in now.” Steve was burning a hole through you with how he was staring at you and you tore your gaze away from him, bending forward and swiping the phone off the ground. His voice was taut when he spat, “Thank you.”

Tony picked up your purse for you from the ground and held out his hand. You handed the phone to him and he placed it inside and tossed the purse onto your lap.

Thankfully, Daryl pulled up along the sidewalk outside of the apartment building to end the situation.

Steve let go of you as the doors to the sidewalk opened, Dasco and the other, Raphael, getting out before Raphael let the seat up to let Tony crawl out. You began to follow him, but Steve grabbed you roughly again, stilling your movement before you could get fully out of the seat.

“Lucky for you and that pussy of yours, I’m needed back at home,” he fumed.

You were silent, seeing the anger swimming in his eyes. He was furious about the whole ordeal, that was apparent.

“Behave for Tony.”

You only had a moment to ponder what that meant before the back opened where your bag was and Daryl dug in, invading the bubble Steve and you had been holding. He let go of you and settled back in the seat, his glare still directed at you. You inhaled sharply before resuming your exit of the car.

Tony led you inside the apartment building past the doorman and the front desk to the elevator. He was carrying your bag, Daryl stopping in the lobby at the desk to flirt with the front desk receptionist as he usually did. You were sure he was banging her. Terrence got into the elevator with the two of you. Again, Tony’s hand was at the small of your back leading you down the hall from the elevator to the apartment, keeping you on the path. His keys jangled as he let the two of you into the apartment, pushing you in ahead of him. Your eyes scanned the room – nothing had changed. It had only been a few days, so that should not be much of a shock. But you certainly felt trapped again, knowing you were stuck back in here. There was no way they were going to give you your apartment key back.

Luna meowed from one of her cat towers at you, drawing your attention. Tony was at your back and he said, “Oh yeah, got her back. That cat is also mine, so maybe consult me next time, yeah?”

He left your back, moving down the hallway towards the bedroom. It was early in the morning and you just wanted to go back to sleep. You turned, following him down the hallway to the bedroom lethargically.

There was a travel bag on one of the side chairs by the window and you furrowed your brow because it was not yours. Tony was holding yours as he placed it on the other chair.

Tony turned around, spotting your confused look. He cleared his throat and then said, “Oh, right. Sorry. I’m staying here for a while. Giving the missus some space until she decides to stop being a bitch. Looks like we are bunking together.”

The last thing you wanted to do was to sleep next to him.

“I’ll take the couch then,” you muttered, turning around tiredly.

You heard him coming up behind you quickly and his hands closing in on your waist and arm stopped you, pulling you flush to him. Nuzzling into your neck he said, “Come on, love. Cross my heart, won’t touch you once we are in there settled in. We can both sleep in the bed. Soundly and sweetly. I won’t even complain if you wake up in the middle of the night and turn the TV on because you can’t sleep.”

You hated he knew you so well.

He laid a soft kiss on your cheek and you went rigid. He noticed, sighing heavily. His hand at your arm left, but his one at your hip lingered, his fingers circling softly.

“You’re upset. That’s okay. But you can sleep in the bed with me. There’s enough space. Right? It’s a king.”

Remembering Steve’s threat, you gritted, “Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Tony praised softly, letting his other hand fall. He moved around you towards the door. “I’m going to get ready for bed. I’ll join you shortly.”

He left the room and you turned back towards the bed, staring at it. He must have been already staying here because the bed was unmade – you had left it made, a habit. His wife must have kicked him out the day of and he had come here for safe haven. Your eyes fell to the end of the bed, thinking of you cowering there when his wife had assaulted you. You could not think about that. Tearing your eyes away, you moved towards your dresser, going to fetch some clean boxers to change into.

You got onto your side, your back to him trying to be as far away from his as possible whenever he got back from the bathroom.

When he walked back in, he turned the light off, shrouding the room in darkness. The bed dipped with his added weight on the other side, the comforter shifting as he covered himself. He was keeping his word though, staying on his side of the bed, adjusting the pillows. You relaxed only slightly, hoping it would stay that away, that he was not going to force anything onto you. Especially not after all the shit that had happened earlier tonight.

The room was quiet, the two of your breaths filling the space. You shifted, burying yourself further into your pillows, trying to will yourself to fall asleep. For how tired you were, you had worked yourself back up again.

Tony broke the silence, “I am sorry.”

Your eyes popped open at the sentence, your brow furrowed in confusion. Unable to help yourself, you turned your head to look at him. His hands were folded behind his head, his upper chest exposed. When he felt you move, his head turned to meet your gaze. “About my wife being a psycho and having you in that position. And with your grandma. That went… a little far.” You refrained from saying anything despite all the expletives you wanted to hurl at him at the emotions all of those memories brought up. He respected your silent treatment and did not press you to respond, “Just thought that needed to be said. Feels it was owed if you know what I mean.”

Not knowing how else to respond to it, you said quietly, “Thanks.”

He nodded, turning his head back and closing his eyes.

Confused immensely by that turn of events, you slowly turned back over, tucking your pillow back underneath your head. Silence blanketed the room again and you knew that was really the good night.

<><><>

Groggily, Tony walked into the kitchen, shirt still missing and in his boxer briefs, finding you working already on food for dinner. You pointed at the counter and said, “The jam and peanut butter are already out if you want to make yourself some toast.”

“No, too early,” Tony grumbled walking over to the counter. He furrowed his brow and asked, “Where’s the coffee?”

“In the bag.”

“Then what roused me from sleep?”

“Probably the cold bed,” you quipped not turning around as you poured more spices into the bowl you were using to collect them all.

You felt his eyes burning into the back of your head as you moved to pull the chicken from the fridge. As you approached the island again, you looked at him, finding him staring at you as you suspected. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said before moving to go make himself coffee.

He poured out his serving into the coffee filter and pressed start. Coming back over to the island, he watched you put the chicken breast into the bag and pour some soy sauce, fresh garlic, and vegetable oil over it.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a marinade.” Tony looked surprised and you said, “You tell me to buy groceries and then are confused when I do something with them?”

“Love, attitude,” Tony tsked. He peered towards the spice bowl you were working with. “What spices are you using?”

“Cloves, fennel, cinnamon, anise, cayenne, nutmeg, salt, pepper, thyme. It’s not the exact recipe but I like it more.”

He rose his brows and muttered, “Jesus. Who knew you were a little chef?”

“Happens when you have a parent who has cooking for a hobby. Rubs off on you. Do you want me to thaw you a piece in the microwave – cause sorry, I thawed mine in the fridge overnight – and add it to the bag for dinner?”

That comment amused him and he cracked a smirk, leaning on the counter. “You sound like a proper housewife, dear.”

“Well, it would be rude of me to not offer to make you some when I’m already making it for myself,” you told him honestly as you moved the wet ingredients around the chicken already in the bag.

His fingers traced your hip lightly watching you. “Are you going to poison me?”

“What good would that do me to poison myself as well in the process?” you deadpanned, looking at him.

Tony’s lips stretched into a smile and he chortled. “You’re lucky I’m not as high strung as our friend Steven.”

Swallowing your pride, you turned your body more towards him, pressing against him. “Is that a yes or no? Just so it can all marinade together in the same bag. I wanna throw the spices in over all the chicken I’m going to be cooking with.”

Tony’s gaze fell to your cleavage exposed through your silk robe before trailing back up to your face. He smiled again, leaning in and giving you a slow kiss. You were tense but tried to force yourself to relax.

“Impress me,” Tony winked before pulling away to go pour himself some coffee.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you as you moved the spices around now.

“Busy wooing his wife. He took her on a trip,” Tony answered you honestly.

So, the trip he had mentioned to your grandma had not been a lie. You were just not invited. That made you even more upset with him if possible. You made a disgruntled noise as Tony poured his coffee.

“Well, I’m gonna wanna grill these upstairs tonight. So, when are you going to be home or can one of the guys take me up to the roof to do so?”

Tony took a drink of his coffee and shrugged. “If you’re actually going to make me dinner, I’ll be home whenever you tell me to.”

“Seven then.”

He winked again, “Seven it is” before he turned, taking his coffee back down the hallway. “I’m gonna lay in bed and watch the news.”

You watched him leave, your eyes narrowing. He was acting normal… like nothing had happened. That set you on edge, but you decided it was better to play along with it. Maybe he was really trying to make amends.

<><><>

The following evening, you heard the bathroom door open as you were showering, and saw Tony enter. The shower was an open one, only a pane of glass on half, the opening walk in. The glass pane was fogged up but you could still see him as he began to strip as soon as the door was closed behind him. You walked over to the opening, running your hands through your wet hair to greet him but you stepped back seeing the blood on his shirt as he took it off.

He noticed you were staring, and he shrugged the shirt off, tossing it onto the ground.

“That was a long time coming for that complete waste of space,” Tony told you, sounding unperturbed. He offered, “Would it make you feel better if I washed my hands first before getting in?”

“Yes,” you said warily.

He shrugged and turned towards the sink, turning the water on. You watched his back muscles work as he scrubbed at his hands, washing them not twice but three times for you. Your eyes fell to the shirt again, taking in the blood splattered across it.

“I’m gonna burn it, don’t worry,” he told you catching your attention again as he wiped his hands on his trousers to dry them. Those went off next and he kicked off his socks. He must have left his shoes at the door. He gestured at you to move back and you did, allowing him access into he shower. He hissed against the water temperature and said, “Do you like to feel like you’re in hell?”

He pressed flush against you, his gaze burning into yours as he reached behind you to adjust the water temperature.

“That’s better. Jesus,” he muttered, lingering against you. “It was like you were trying to melt away.”

“I like it hot,” you retorted.

“Me too,” he chuckled, leaning down and kissing you. “Just in different ways.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, but his arms wrapped around you, pulling you back to his chest.

“You were made to be worshipped,” Tony husked, his lips trailing along your shoulder, ending at your neck. His hands ran up between your breasts, cupping them tightly. He squeezed at your nipples as he sucked at your neck.

How hands that had murdered someone were so compassionate with you was beyond you.

“Tony, I need to condition my hair—” you started to argue, trying to free yourself from his grasp.

“You have dry conditioner. And don’t lie to me, I’ve seen it in the cupboard above the sink,” he argued back, his hand slipping down to your sex, his fingers pressing past your folds. “And if it’s that important, you can finish cleaning up after. I know I’m going to have to.”

Knowing he was not going to relent, you yielded to his touch, falling back into his embrace. He hummed in approval, his fingers diving deeper, squeezing at your clit gently. You pressed back against his pelvis and he chuckled, his lips trailing soft kisses up your shoulder. He played with your sex, dragging his fingers up and down, working you up.

“Gotta get you good and wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded in approval and he laughed, nipping at your neck, his other hand taut around your throat. “But not too much. I want that pretty pussy clenching around my cock, not my fingers.”

Tony shut the water off. “Don’t need any slipping hazards here.”

Pressing back, you presented to him, hating giving into your desire so soon, but also wanting the release he had started to press you towards. Tony let out a throaty chuckle, his hand trailing up your ass before he smacked, causing you to gasp. He smacked again and you let out another noise. “You’re so adorable, love.”

His cock dragged up your ass, pressing your cheeks against his cock. He slid up and down, exhaling shakily. “How are you so perfect?” he breathed, his hand coming back up to snake around your neck, the other at your hip.

He entered slowly and you breathed steadily as his hand flexed on your neck as his cock slid deeper. He was fully seated inside you and you shuddered, dipping your head. You clenched around him, trying to will him to move but he ignored it. He was still, holding you in place as you held him inside you.

“You like that? Being full of my cock?” he husked, his hand tightening on your hip. You nodded fervently, just wanting him to move, to do anything. His chest pressed against your back and his lips brushed your ear, “Say it.”

“Yes, I love it. Tony, Jesus, please just fuck me!”

He let out a laugh before he pulled out, his head almost leaving you before he slammed back in, jolting you against the wall. Your fingers dug into the tile as he drove up into you repeatedly with all his force. You were not quiet, falling into the rhythm of him thrusting into you and feeling his cock brush your g spot. You adjusted your hips trying to get him to hit it more and he laughed, getting the gist of what you were doing.

“Oh baby, you know the best angle for that is you face down.”

In a fluid motion, his hand fell from your throat and he pulled out of you. You whined in disapproval.

“Don’t be disappointed yet, love,” he told you, his hand coming to your shoulder and forcing you to your knees. “Get that ass up for me.”

You immediately did as he asked, and you felt him prodding at your entrance before he slipped back in. You cried out as he hit you full on and he groaned in approval hearing your praise. His hands were gripping your hips as he plummeted, impaling you against the tile of the bed of the shower. He was unrelenting, as if he was letting out the last week’s of pent up lust right into you. And you were relishing in it, racing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you gasped feeling yourself spiraling quick.

“Come for me, baby,” Tony demanded, his hip snapping quicker.

That was all the permission you needed. You did as he ordered, your walls constricting and animalistic cries leaving your lips. Tony growled in approval, his thrusts becoming shallow. And he released, holding up your limp frame as he emptied inside you.

His grip laxed and you collapsed further into the tile, still trying to bring your own heart rate down.

“Shit,” he breathed after a minute, fully pulling away, leaving his cum dripping out of you. He stood up, stretching his body out.

You followed his lead and he helped you get to steady grounding. His nose nuzzled into your neck again and he walked with you towards the front of the shower, you letting him guide you. He pulled the handle, turning the water back on, thankfully at a reasonable temperature.

“Let’s clean ourselves up,” he murmured, kissing at your cheek, still holding you tight.

Tony pulled you back into the line of water, still holding you close. He reached behind him, grabbing the bar soap and he foamed his hands in front of you with the soap before placing it back. His hands ran up and down your frame, cupping and dipping, lathering you up. You relaxed, letting him clean you. His hands snaked between your legs and he cleaned himself from between your thighs.

Turning around, you looked up at him and he smiled, his hands coming around to massage at your ass. The water dripped around you, cleansing the soap from your frame. He rinsed his hands of the soap.

He broke the silence by saying, “The trip got moved up. We’re going to leave tomorrow.”

“Excuse me?” you asked confused.

He wiped at the water running down his face and said, “The trip. The one Steve told you about at your grandma’s – sorry, I know, still a sore subject. But the one planned for you.”

“But… he’s on a trip. Without me.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Yeah, he is. Which is why you’re coming with me on mine. Just to keep an eye on you and all, love.” He did not trust to leave you here by yourself apparently. So, not only were you not allowed to have your key again, you could not spend copious amounts of time here alone if they were not in the city. He grabbed the soap and lathered up his hands again, for himself now you guessed. “It’s gonna be four days. Although, about 26 hours will be spent on a plane. But Monaco.”

“Monaco…?”

Washing his chest, Tony nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Where is that?”

“Oh, southside of France. Little country.”

“For what?”

“That’s not anything you have to worry your pretty little head about,” Tony purred, his lips meeting yours again sensually. He pulled away and started washing himself down. “When we get back though, I will be going on another trip but that’s with the kids. So, you’ll stay here but Steve will be back by then. And I’ll tell him to be nice to you like he should be. He’ll behave himself, trust me, love.”

He winked at you before adjusting the shower head to aim more towards his body.

<><><>

You walked through the bar, Tony stopping you to pause at the camera. “Smile, baby,” he ordered you through his teeth and you did as he asked, trying to be natural. He guided you along further and whispered, “Well, that’s not going to make the missus happy. But, I should have assumed paparazzi would be here. I mean it is a highly publicized race.” Your eyes moved to the windows, looking out over the racetrack. “I did come here to speak business though.”

Since you had arrived in France, it had been getting off Tony’s plane, into a car, driving here, and sleeping. When you had been roused, it was to get ready and get yourself preened for this event. Tony had given you a bodycon red dress to put on for the event and he had winked at you when he said it was his color.

He brought you to the bar and his hand was flat against your hip, holding you to his side.

“Mimosa?” he asked quietly. “It is only 10:30 and that won’t draw too many suspicions.”

You met his gaze and said, “Vodka.”

His face broke into a smile and he chuckled, “That’s my girl” as the bartender came in front of him. “A screwdriver for my lovely date here and bourbon straight.”

When the two of you turned around, there was a man standing there with two men behind him.

“Laurie, I didn’t expect to see you but what a wonderful surprise,” Tony said politely, not being one to be caught off guard so easily. “You do have a racer today though, do you not? What a coincidence, so do I.”

The man he addressed, Laurie, shot a look at you before meeting Tony’s eyes again. He said something in French to Tony that you could not understand. They had a small conversation that got tighter the longer it went on and you were growing uncomfortable with each passing second with the growing tension. You took a long drink of your screwdriver.

Laurie’s eyes ran over you again lewdly and he said something to Tony that had Tony smile but there was no humor in his eyes. His fingers held tighter at your hip at it. His tone was frigid when he responded, “Vous pouvez parier que je ne perdrai pas car c’est mon jouet préféré.” (You can bet I won’t lose because its my favorite toy)

In response to Tony’s cold response, Laurie’s lips stretched across his lips in a challenging smile.

Turning his gaze back to you, Laurie said, in English, “You should hope Stark wins.”

Shooting Tony a dangerous look, he snapped his fingers at the men behind him before walking off, them following him.

Tony let out an annoyed breath and took a long drink of his bourbon, smacking his lips. “Fucking prick,” he muttered.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing. Rival boss. He owns Blanchet Industries.”

“You’re lying. Something went wrong,” you accused him.

Tony turned his head to look at you and you stared back expectantly. He could not lie to you about that, it was plain as day something had transpired.

Seeing your defiance, he shrugged. “He’s mad I’m meeting with the man I am meeting with later. And he wanted to bet on the race.”

“Okay?”

“It’s not a big deal, love,” he said. “I’ll win. I’ll make sure of it.”

You did not like the sound of that but you followed his lead as he began to walk. He took a long drink of his bourbon again. The two of you approached a table with three people you had not seen before. You looked over your shoulder, not seeing any of Tony’s men in the room anymore. They had left the two of you at the door; were you to be that protected in this room? You felt some relief though the moment you saw Daryl coming through the crowd towards the table.

Pulling one of the chairs out from the table, Tony gestured for you to sit, tapping your ass.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” one of the men said, sitting rigid in his chair.

“Nice to see you too, Rhodey,” Tony responded as you sat down. He pushed your chair in and finished off his bourbon before placing it on the table. “I need to use the restroom. Love, this is Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy. Just sit tight with them. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He kissed the top of your head and strode off before you could even get a word out. Gaping like a fish, you watched him walk off. You felt the air shift beside you and Daryl was sitting down at the table.

“Daryl,” the other man – Happy, you assumed – greeted him.

“Happy,” he said in return.

You looked around the table and found Rhodey was the only one giving you a friendly smile out of the three. You settled back into the chair, putting your clutch on the table. You took another deep drink of your screwdriver.

“How are you enjoying Monaco?” Rhodey asked you, trying to make small talk. You leaned into it, trying to find some comfortability about being thrust at this table with people you did not know.

And it went well enough until Pepper gasped from across the table, leaning onto it. You followed her gaze to the TV, seeing Tony was on the TV. Your eyes bugged seeing he was in a racing suit. He had not told you he was going to be racing and you watched in shock as the roster flew up on the screen and the original driver’s name was replaced with his.

“Did he tell you he was going to do this?” Pepper demanded at Daryl.

Daryl shook his head, “No, ma’am.”

On the TV, Tony was telling the interviewers, “What’s the use of having and owning a race car… if you don’t drive it?”

“I’m gonna kill him.” Pepper breathed from across the table. “If he doesn’t kill himself, I’m going to kill him.”

You sat there in shock watching him getting geared up and into the racecar. Spotting a waiter, you reached out, stopping their movement. “Um, can I get shots for the table? Two for me, actually.” The waiter nodded and walked off. You looked back at everyone and saw their expressions. “What? He drives me insane too. Just let me handle it the way I do best.”

You looked back at the TV seeing him pull away from the pit stop.

Laurie’s words from just a handful of minutes before came back to you.

You should hope Stark wins.

Your fingers were digging into the back of your chair as you were glued to the screen. You only turned away when the shots came back and you rifled one down your throat. Your knuckles were pale the whole race, your hands gripping the chair. You only relaxed when you saw him come in third, two cars before Blanchet Industries’ car.

Tony hopped out of his car, waving at the cameras, looking triumphant. You turned back to the table and took the other shot. You noticed everyone else’s original shot glasses were empty too and at least you had done them that solid of giving them some liquid relaxation even if they had not taken the shots with you.

When he came back up to the table, he was back in his suit.

Pepper hopped from the table and got in his face, hissing at him, pushing him away from the table, and he was talking quietly back to her. The two of them were suspended in argument and you watched curiously.

Daryl leaned over and said, “She’s CEO now of Stark Industries. She’s gonna have to do some PR on this.”

Tony did not seem to calm her down, but he found an avenue to get out of the conversation which looked like basically just walking out of it. He came over to your chair and said, “Come on, Y/N. We have a private pool back at the villa. I need to relax. I got pretty tense during that race.”

Stumbling out of the chair because he was pulling you, you steadied yourself, throwing a look back at Daryl who shrugged as he got out of the car to follow the two of you. You matched Tony’s stride, moving past the paparazzi.

Out on the patio, you demanded, “You really threw everyone off guard and for what? Why did you have to win so badly? Why did you race?”

“Because he wanted to win you if I lost,” Tony responded out of the corner of his mouth as you walked down the stairs.

You stopped, causing him to stumble for once. He turned back to look at you as it clicked he had put your ass on the line because of his fucking ego? He could have told the guy to fuck off but he had accepted that bet? And then just raced?

Scoffing, you pushed away from his side, glaring up at him, rage tearing up inside you.

Tony’s expression melted to vexation, knowing the contempt rising up in you, “Y/N, sweetheart…”

“You’re an asshole!” you snapped at him before turning sharply and storming away from him towards the car where Terrence was waiting.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel fic #dark marvel #my shit

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago.

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning.

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never.

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak.

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love.

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky.

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action.

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around.

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier.

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief.

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now.

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well.

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly.

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking.

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now.

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation.

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles.

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night.

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck.

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected.

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah.

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face.

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack.

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender.

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing.

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries.

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing.

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back.

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary.

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room.

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand.

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night.

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented.

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve.

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin.

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.”

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack.

Ridiculous.

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself.

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies.

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

“He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath.

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious.

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video.

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands.

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together.

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck.

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating.

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours.

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise.

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order.

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp.

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back.

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection.

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded.

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms.

You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit.

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected.

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit.

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send.

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months. “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so.

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned.

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense.

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.”

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back.

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible.

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information.

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man.

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side.

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand.

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed.

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug.

“You better. Catch me up, please?”

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium.

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match.

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip.

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap.

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god.

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling.

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically.

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered.

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.”

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound.

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane.

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality.

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion.

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe.

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain.

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

“You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car.

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway.

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance.

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors.

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose.

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this.

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years.

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you.

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band.

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth.

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins.

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink.

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant.

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap. “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.”

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu.

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow.

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world.

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes.

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified.

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing.

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers.

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while.

“...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times.

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway.

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years.

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor.

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had.

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right. “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.”

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging.

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours.

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another.

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage.

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward.

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!”

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then.

Scott ordered so much dessert.

So much.

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe.

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends.

You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high.

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher.

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip.

You would indulge in this childishness once.

Once.

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher.

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!”

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks.

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen.

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you.

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you.

Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in.

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with.

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance.

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him.

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away.

No, Steve Rogers never ran.

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter.

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did.

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation.

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face.

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling.

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well.

A gesture of approval.

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips.

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers.

Your Captain.

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip.

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead.

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created.

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze.

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order.

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes.

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold.

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy.

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart.

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this.

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card.

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion.

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass.

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors.

“Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here.

And he had to do this for Sam.

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage.

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment.

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore.

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider.

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened.

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart.

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward.

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people.

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling.

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently.

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group.

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving.

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief.

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant.

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment.

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real.

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it.

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle.

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt.

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends?

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back.

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.”

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all.

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips.

“Steve?”

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking.

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself.

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room.

It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had.

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more.

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope.

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed.

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom.

As simple as that.

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in.

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford.

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing.

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock.

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small.

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous.

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp.

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken.

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic.

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name.

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock.

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper.

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self.

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony.

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check.

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip?

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder.

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers.

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts.

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth.

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine.

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing.

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead.

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds.

“I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers.

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them.

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary.

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up.

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you.

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours.

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man.

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner.

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