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wordstome · 5 months

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kosovo maiden (könig x reader)

Well, I did it again, gang. I wrote another story based on a painting. This one is by Uroš Predić in 1919, and was posted to Tumblr here (thanks to arcana-imperii for posting!)

I don't know anything about Kosovo, so the reader here isn't explicitly Serbian ;; please forgive me. Also, apologies for possibly inaccurate ambiguously late-1800s setting, medical information or German. Please enjoy!

2.2k words

There are soldiers in the field.

You heard the sounds of battle early in the dawn, the piercing explosions of gunfire and cannons ringing out as the sun rose. You weren’t concerned at first: it was far enough away that you felt safe enough to carry on as usual. But the gunfire drew closer and closer, and by noon you could hear the shouting and the battle cries, driving you trembling into your attic with terror. Mercifully, the fighting peters out as the sun sinks lower in the sky, but when you finally work up the nerve to peek out of your window, you find to your horror that the grassy field adjacent to your humble little home is littered with the bodies of dead and dying men.

Without a single further thought to your own safety, you grab a lantern and a pitcher of water and rush into the night.

It’s awful. Most of the men left behind are already cold, some whose eyes you have to shut yourself. The ones who were able to be saved were likely evacuated by their comrades, so the only ones left to face the cruel nighttime are the ones who won’t see the morning after. A few are still conscious when you find them, but you have little more to offer them than a gentle touch and one last drink of water. Their eyes are what will haunt you most after today: slick with tears as grown men weep, all semblance of courage and proud masculinity stripped from them as they face down their imminent demise. It’s terrible, heart-wrenching, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’re the only living thing left that can offer them comfort in their last moments.

The jug of water dangles from your hand as you trudge through the field, looking for anyone at all that you can provide help to. You’ve long abandoned any hope of finding someone you can save when you come across him: the giant in the grass.

It’s well and truly nighttime at that point, your lamp the only source of light upon what seems like a sea of human misery. The light hits his face, and you gasp. Your first thought is of how huge he is, at least 200 centimeters if he were standing. Your second thought is of how handsome he is…

You jolt to attention as he shifts and groans. He’s alive! Shaking some sense into yourself, you don’t hesitate to rush to his side. Your hands roam across his body, assessing the severity of his injuries. To your surprise, he doesn’t seem to be mortally injured. They’re severe, to be sure—he won’t be able-bodied for weeks. But he’s far from at death’s door, only confused and dazed…had his comrades only left him due to his sheer size?

Using your hand to support the back of his head and neck, you tip some water into his mouth in an attempt to revive him. The man cracks an eye open, regarding you with feverish wonder.

“Ein Engel…” he murmurs. You’re too elated that he’s alive, so you don’t actually properly hear what he said. With light, deft fingers, you tear strips of his tattered shirt and use the cloth to wrap up a scrape on his arm and stem the flow of a very nasty-looking wound up along the broad plane of his torso. To your alarm, however, the man seems to slump, his head laying back as if he’s about to lose consciousness.

“No, no,” you cry in panic, shaking him without heed of his injuries. “Sir, you cannot sleep here, I am unable to carry you…you will die out here!”

He mumbles something inaudible, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn’t passed out on you yet, but you have to act quickly to properly care for his wounds. You shift your body so you can maneuver his uninjured arm onto your shoulders. Luckily, he seems to comprehend what you’re trying to do, and manages to stumble to his feet while leaning his weight on you.

It’s an awkward, fumbling dance, considering your earlier assessment of his height was correct—he’s a huge man, and his torso alone nearly dwarfs your entire figure. But with a good measure of patience, you manage to get him moving towards your house. It’s high time you returned home, as well: your stomach roils as you remember what happens to corpses left outside for scavengers to find.

The two of you stumble through the doorway of your home, you murmuring soft affirmations and encouragement to the man. He makes no indication that he understands what you’re saying, but he’s nodding along, responding to your gentle tone. You guide him to lay on your bed, his body visibly relaxing as he sinks into the mattress.

You bustle around, lighting candles, stoking your fireplace, and rummaging around for medical supplies. You return to him with a basin of warm water, a cloth, and some bandages—before stopping dead in your tracks.

In the low lamplight out in the field, you hadn’t noticed the color of the man’s uniform, much too preoccupied with his signs of life. But now the truth is laid bare in front of you as you take in his attire, eyes traveling over his broad body—

You’ve just taken in an enemy soldier.

The man has seemingly fallen asleep, likely exhausted by the battle and the effort it took to get into your home. That does nothing to assuage your fear, though: what are you going to do if he passes away right in your bed? Even worse, what are you going to do if he wakes? Will he be hostile? Will he attempt to take you as a hostage to secure safe passage out of his enemy’s territory?

It's clear to you, though, that if you don’t help this man, he will die. His wounds could easily turn septic, and then he’s a goner. You steel yourself and approach him, kneeling at his bedside.

You work slowly and carefully to reveal his injuries, wincing when they’re completely exposed. He’s no longer bleeding profusely, but he will absolutely need stitches. For now, you settle for cleaning them with a damp cloth, trying to keep infection at bay.

He must be well and truly knocked out, because he doesn’t even stir as you wrap his arm securely with clean bandages. You’re much more hesitant to deal with his chest wound: if he wakes and struggles, he could make it much worse. But his unconscious state affords you the best opportunity to stitch him up…

You furrow your brow and go to find a needle.

You’re awoken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.

You stir from your sleep, wondering what your mother could possibly want at such an early hour. At least she put the fire on—you can hear the crackling. But why is your bed so hard? Did you fall asleep on the floor? Actually, now that you think about it, you do recall dozing off on your sheepskin rug last night, because—

Your eyes shoot open to see a huge, hulking figure standing over you.

The soldier startles when you scream, scrambling to move away from him. He cuts an intimidating figure in the early morning light: he towers over you in a state of undress, the bandages you put on him last night splotched with rusty dried blood. But you calm down as you realize he means you no harm, his hands outstretched in front of him as a show of peace: no weapons.

“Wo bin ich?” he asks. You squint at him. That sounds like German, but you can’t speak a word of it.

“I don’t speak German,” you try. He tilts his head, looking as puzzled as you feel right now.

“Never mind all of that,” you say, shaking your head and pushing yourself to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” The soldier watches with amusement as you press your hands against him, careful to avoid touching his chest where you know his wound lies, in an attempt to get him back into bed. He allows you to do so, lying back down like an obedient dog.

“Muste pissen,” he murmurs as you fuss over him. You shoot him another confused look as you check the stitches you put in his chest wound. All seems well, you note with relief.

“What?”

He huffs a sigh. He gestures towards the door, and then then to his…oh.

“I see,” you say, cheeks feeling hot. You can’t bear to look at his face, but when you do, you find he’s watching you with amusement.

You tap his chest with a finger, then mime a sewing motion. “Don’t get up on your own from now on, you could tear your stitches,” you tell him, pointing to the door and then to patting your own chest. “I’ll help you.”

He snorts, but nods. You start to unfurl the bandages on his arm, heart twinging with sympathy as he grits his teeth in pain. You bite your lip in chagrin as the wound is revealed. It was much less severe than the one on his chest, but it’s doing much worse: pus and fluids are leaking everywhere, and to your horror, you think some parts of the torn flesh might actually be turning green.

“Es sieht schlecht aus?” he asks, concerned. You put on a smile you hope is comforting and rise from his bedside to go downstairs and rummage through your cupboards.

You return to him holding a bottle of liquor, the strongest you could find. He seems to realize what you intend to do, and shifts slightly to allow you better access to his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. “This is going to hurt.” Without further warning, you dump a good amount of alcohol on his wound.

“SCHEIẞE!” The bellow of pain that rips out of his throat seems to shake the very foundations of your home. You wince as he hollers and lays back heavy against your poor little bed, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. That can’t have been pleasant…

“Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen,” he grits. You give him a sympathetic little pat before withdrawing to get the bandages.

He’s calmed down by the time you return to him. He watches you curiously as you wrap him up nice and snug, then turn your attentions to his chest wound. The stitches are still in place—it seems he was careful when he relieved himself—but you still need to clean and dress the wound. He lets out a sigh of relief when you opt for a clean cloth to dab away the dried blood instead of the liquor bottle.

You work quickly and efficiently, worried about him catching a cold with his chest out like this. You also can’t deny that the whole situation is starting to make you a bit shy—a foreign man, and an attractive one at that, is in your bed, shirtless, and you’re all but sprawled out on top of him to get up close to his injury. By the time you’re done, you’re fully blushing at the closeness of the contact between the two of you.

“You should be alright, it’s a good sign that you lasted through the night and haven’t developed a fever yet,” you tell him as you gather up the soiled bandages to be washed. “You’ll need to stay in bed so I can keep an eye on you—”

You’re drawn up short when you look up to see his face. Far from the angry scowl he wore when you disinfected his wound, his expression now is almost…admiring? You shift slightly, caught off guard by the adoration in this stranger’s stare, and your arm brushes against something solid and warm.

You stand up as if burned, turning to see what you just touched. To your chagrin, you find that the soldier is…well, he’s hard.

You whirl around to fix him with an outraged look, but he only laughs at you with obvious delight. What a pervert! You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do or where to look, but you’re stopped by the sensation of him reaching up and pressing a hand to your face.

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as he strokes your cheek with a sort of reverence that stops you in your tracks. “Mein Retter…” he murmurs. “Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders.”

You huff, recognizing that he’s trying to apologize. “You don’t act like an injured man at all,” you complain. A spark of mirth comes into his eye at your pouting tone as he just chuckles at you. You turn to walk away, yelping when you feel his hand brush against your bottom. You shoot him with a deadly look as he laughs again.

You scurry away, feeling awkward and hot all over. You had been so concerned last night about whether you should stay in the same house as the potentially dangerous soldier, pacing the floor and biting your nails as you pondered whether you should give him up to the local authorities. In hindsight, you’re glad you didn’t—they would surely have locked him in a cold cell with nobody to look after that festering gash on his shoulder, to say nothing of his chest wound. It was worth it to risk waking up to a man angry and spitting hatred at you, if you could save his life.

But now you’re realizing that you hadn’t considered the opposite possibility: that the soldier might like you a little too much.

ein Engel = an angel Wo bin ich? = Where am I? Muste pissen = had to piss Es sieht schlecht aus? = Is it bad? Scheiße = shit Das tat schlimmer weh, als die verdammte Wunde überhaupt zu bekommen = That hurt worse than getting the damn wound in the first place Mein Retter = my savior Entschuldigung. Ich konnte nicht anders = I'm sorry. I couldn't help it

Once more, I wrote this in a frenzy akin to being possessed, so it's a little short. But there will definitely be more! Thank you for reading <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely

#könig #König x reader #König x you #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #I really need to sort out my tag list...#fic: kosovo maiden

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wttcsms · 1 year

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these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #smut #lemon #one shot #drabble

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dc418writes · 1 month

Note

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ari + pinned down + “Fuck, sweetheart, I love it when you whine so pretty for me.”

*incomprehensible screeching* ok ok calm down self no pressure 👀 lol but thank you Siri for this prompt! And all who read I hope you like what I came up with☺️!

Mine

✨Pairing✨: ex!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: As luck would have it, your ex is there to save you from a creep. Some coincidence right?

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS, soft/dark-dark elements, mention of sexual harassment, violence (man-man), unprotected adult happy funny times (please be safe everyone!), fingering, breeding kink, mention of alcohol, a couple bad language words

Your once pleasant buzz has since been replaced by a dull headache as you sit in the middle of your ex’s king sized bed. One of his shirts - smelling a mix of his cologne and detergent - covering your freshly washed body after the small bar brawl left the front of your top and skirt soaked with beer.

Every few minutes your mind wanders back to that moment where the “kind” and charming stranger showed his true colors. His touches becoming unwanted while trapping you against the bar and ignoring your protests. If it wasn’t for Ari, quickly yanking the hazel-eyed man away from you before his fist was soon meeting his cheek, you’re sure you’d be stuck somewhere and missing for God knows how long.

Maybe even worse.

A light knock on the door has a small smile curling on your lips seeing Ari in the doorway. His muscular body nearly taking up the entire space standing in his black sweats and some worn looking band tee.

“Hey, you feel alright?,” he asks and you nod. “Need anything?”

“No, just tired.”

“Get some rest. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

You didn’t want him out there though. In your current state - emotionally vulnerable and unable to get the events out of your mind - you wanted him next to you. To not be alone for tonight at least.

“C-Can you stay? Please?,” you call after him halting any further movement out of the doorway. With that tilted smile you still loved, he was soon removing his shirt and joining you under his sheets.

“Of course sweetheart.”

His thick arm wrapped around your middle with your back against his front, it was like old times how instantly safe and comfortable you felt. How you fit together so well, it was as if you’d never even broken up in the first place. And when his nose bumps behind your ear barely touching one of your special spots, that familiar flip returns to your stomach as well.

“Goodnight.”

“Night Ari,” you whisper, but you already know sleep is a far off concept from your highly active brain still focused on the bar. Trying to force you into reliving every detail as if helping you study for your own exam.

So many minutes pass of just feeling the air from Ari’s nostrils against your neck and hearing cars run by that you’ve accepted you probably won’t be sleeping tonight.

“That pretty head’s going a mile a minute again huh?,” he asks slightly startling you thinking he was asleep this whole time.

“You can tell?” He nods and you can feel the gentle scratching of his beard on your skin.

“Your pulse is a bit high; not to mention your body’s tense. Not as relaxed as I know you wanna be.”

He was always so intuitive with you. Knowing how you were feeling or if you were off without you having to even say a word. It was honestly scary sometimes how he was there with what you needed before it could cross your own mind.

“Why am I not surprised? Spot on as always,” you softly chuckle.

“Because I know you sweetheart,” he replies placing a chaste kiss to that sweet spot behind your ear. “Know all about this body. What goes on in your mind.”

His voice in your ear as his hand slowly drifts from under you and down your abdomen to the front of your thigh has you beginning to squirm. An ache quickly forming between your legs you want him to erase.

His fingertips trace a slow circle just centimeters from that junction as his lips create their own steady path down the column of your neck to your shoulder. It’s a tortuous buildup you wish he didn’t enjoy so much.

“Let’s get you to sleep, yea?”

“Please,” you shamefully beg anticipating his touch where you needed most.

And he doesn’t disappoint placing your leg over his so you were spread wide for him. His middle finger immediately dipping in your needy core and dragging just right you couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from your lips.

“Still so tight after all this time. We can work around that though can’t we?”

By the time he was done - having readied you with two orgasms - you were already in a mindless haze only capable of babbling incoherent noises, “please”, and Ari’s name.

Exactly how he wanted you as he pushed your thighs up against your chest keeping them in place with his wide upper half while his hands pinned yours over your head. You were now completely at his use as he slowly began to push into you with a low groan and silent curses how you gripped him so tight.

“Ari please,” you whined. Head lulling to the side to lie on your arm. “Need you.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I love when you whine so pretty for me,” he finishes with a gasp finally pushing to the hilt. For your sake, he tries to start slow, but the feel of you clinching around him and all the sweet noises you’re making, it doesn’t take long for that rhythm to quicken. The squeaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping soon taking over your moans and panting.

“Mm don’t stop!”

He moans nipping at your bottom lip. “I’m the only one that can take care of you. Knows all your spots that make you dumb. Isn’t that right?”

Ari takes your whine as a yes, smirking as his mouth finds yours in a heated and numbing kiss.

“Because you’re mine sweetheart.” His pace quickens and you shriek as your release squirts to the sheets below. It only spurs him more moaning as he feels his own release approaching. “Always have been, shit, always will be.”

You want to whine and push him away with your new sensitivity and puffy folds that feel raw, but that blissed out cloud just keeps lifting you higher and higher that you don’t want to come down.

“And everyone’s gonna know it too seeing you with our little baby bump. Gonna be the best mama to our babies.” The thought of you carrying a mini version of the both of you pushes him over the edge moaning his release as you have one last one of your own feeling him fill you up with deep ruts wanting it to stick as deep as it could go.

Finally meeting that blissful high with you, a tired chuckle leaves his lips as he kisses all along your sweaty face. You’re pleasantly knocked out - mouth slightly parted - as he carefully lifts up so your legs can be stretched out again. Although soft, he doesn’t pull out; instead staying buried deep so none of him can escape.

Plus having you wrapped around him so snug, occasionally pulsing and clinching, it’s better than any blanket he could ever buy.

“Now, if only you weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t have had to go through all this,” he whispers before leaving one last peck on your temple.

HiredHelp: I said only one punch! (sent 12:29 am)

HiredHelp: That’s an extra 2K (sent 12:30 am)

HiredHelp: 5K in my account by tomorrow or we meet again very soon (sent 12:30 am)

So for those who’ve read my works over the years, this is definitely a bit of new territory for me (soft/dark-dark and smut) so hopefully it’s not cringe🫣. Thank you @stargazingfangirl18 for this prompt and for allowing me to play☺️! Also sorry if this is longer than a standard drabble lol

#ari levinson #ari levinson x black!reader #ari levinson x reader #chris evans x woc!reader #ari levinson au #red sea diving resort #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader

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siilvan · 11 months

Text

physical touch

characters: kyle “gaz” garrick, johnny “soap” mactavish, john price, simon “ghost” riley, gary “roach” sanderson, yuri

summary: physical touch/affection headcanons!

genre: fluff, gn!reader (no desc. or pronouns)

warnings: none!

note: figured i’d start with something basic sweet after not writing in so long :) my next drafts are both soap – reboot and captain <3

gaz

⋆ so very touchy. even before you’re officially together, he’s always finding excuses to touch you.

⋆ comparing hand sizes, high-fives, patting you on the shoulder, playing with your fingers, nudging you with his leg, holding your waist while sliding past–

⋆ there’s nothing gaz won’t do to touch you, even if it’s just brushing your fingertips.

⋆ it gets even worse once you start dating. he is on you constantly. holding your hand, wrapping an arm around you, kissing you - he’s like a teenage boy in love!

⋆ shockingly, this side of him completely disappears when you’re in the field; he’s very cautious when it comes to affection, so as to avoid putting targets on your backs.

⋆ proud back/shoulder pats, friendly fist bumps, shoulders brushing past each other, nondescript praise, and barely visible smiles–

⋆ gaz utterly adores you, but only when your threats are complaints from the rest of the team.

⋆ a big enjoyer of cuddles, obviously. big spoon, little spoon, in bed, on the couch… he doesn’t care about the details, as long as he gets to be with you.

⋆ secretly so very weak for you sleeping on his chest. he just loves that feeling of protecting you and you trusting him to keep you safe.

soap

⋆ another touchy sergeant! i’m starting to sense a trend.

⋆ much like gaz, soap was touchy before you started dating. except, he wasn’t looking for excuses to touch you - he just went for it every single time.

⋆ bumping your foot with his, patting your shoulder, hugging you after long periods away from each other… soap had a reputation as a touchy guy, and with you he was no different.

⋆ in fact, he was even worse with you. soap was oblivious to his painfully obvious crush until someone pointed out his habit of touching you.

⋆ back hugs are a very common occurrence with him. also favors being the big spoon for the very same reason. "you’re like a teddy bear," he always claims when you point it out.

⋆ in the field, soap treats you no differently than the rest of the team. a few more compliments and brief touches here and there, but he’s capable of saving the pda for secure locations.

⋆ despite his reputation as a physically affectionate guy, he still gets a little embarrassed when someone calls him out for it!

⋆ turns red and tries to come up with an explanation every single time without fail. also never succeeds at said explanation, and ends up making himself even more embarrassed.

⋆ if it’s ghost calling him out, though… soap doesn’t get flustered over it. he simply does whatever he’s doing, but even more. prepare to be squeezed half to death if ghost ever catches you two.

price

⋆ his private and professional lives are like night and day.

⋆ at home and in private, price is quite the romantic. kissing your hands, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on your shoulder - his goal is to make you melt from his affection.

⋆ at work, however… unless you two are completely alone, you’ll be getting the same treatment as the rest of the team.

⋆ it’s not that he doesn’t want to show you off. price is just a very private man, and for good reason. he’s got quite the list of enemies, many of whom would target you if they caught wind of you.

⋆ that being said, he more than makes up for it at home - he won’t let you end up neglected and starved for affection. the generous helping of praise that he casually gives you shows his love, as well.

⋆ when it comes to cuddling, it’s a moment-to-moment thing. price enjoys holding you and being held, but he’s a human furnace, so cuddles in hot weather are a no-go. he’ll still hold your hand or interlock your pinkies if you want him too, though.

⋆ usually is the big spoon. he needs to be free to act if something goes wrong, and free to protect you.

⋆ still, he turns into putty whenever he’s able to lay with his head on your chest. your fingers gently playing with his hair, listening to your heartbeat, with your warmth lulling him to sleep–

⋆ he’s got a tough exterior, but he’s really just a big softie that can seldom tell you "no."

ghost

⋆ it takes him quite some time to be open to physical affection, even after you’re officially a couple.

⋆ it’s not that he doesn’t want to be physically affectionate, ghost just struggles greatly with letting down his guard. patience and understanding is all he needs to start opening up.

⋆ definitely against pda of any kind. if you try to sneakily kiss him while around the team, he’ll gently remind you not to the next time you’re alone. he’s never unkind, just firmly set in his boundaries.

⋆ would probably be open to small acts once you’ve been together for a while - resting his hand atop yours, nudging your knee with his own, holding your shoulder, resting his arm on the back of your chair.

⋆ ghost is secretly starved for affection, so every little touch is significant to him. you can make his heart race just by brushing his arm with your fingertips.

⋆ at home, he’s extremely clingy. trying to leave bed? not happening, you’ve got a 6'3" teddy bear grabbing your shirt and dragging you back under the covers. morning cuddles are one of his favorite things, even if he’d die before admitting to it.

⋆ dozing off with his head on your shoulder while you cook, pulling you into his lap during movies, kissing you before he leaves and after he returns…

⋆ big or little spoon depending on his mood. much like price, ghost is constantly ready to act, even at home. however, he is so desperate for comfort and just needs to he held sometimes.

⋆ if you let him lay his head on your lap or chest, the ghost persona completely melts away. play with his hair, trace your fingertips along his jawline, leave sweet kisses wherever you can, and the "scary" man suddenly becomes softer than silk.

roach

⋆ decently physically affectionate, but doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

⋆ roach is all about the smaller, more casual acts of affection. forehead kisses, hugs, sitting next to each other, holding hands– he’s all about the moments that people would consider less significant.

⋆ still, there is one thing that never fails to make his heart flutter: when you kiss him through his mask.

⋆ whether it’s a peck on the cheek or your lips against his, if you kiss his mask, he’ll turn into a stuttering mess. he hopes you can’t somehow see the blush practically burning holes through the fabric.

⋆ proud little spoon! no matter where you are, roach will gladly fall asleep wrapped up in your arms. his favorite way to nap is with his head on your lap - if you try to move, you’ll end up with a very whiny and clingy sergeant.

⋆ has a habit of falling asleep on you after particularly draining missions. it’s not his fault, really; the rumble of the helicopter’s engine, the adrenaline wearing off, and your presence are a deadly trio.

⋆ if you fall asleep, too, he won’t wake you up. unless you need medical attention or something important, he’ll just carry you back to your room and tuck you into bed. usually joins you, as well.

⋆ these mid-flight naps also happened before you two got together. roach has an entire album on his phone of photos (mostly taken by soap) of you two cuddling after missions.

⋆ finally decided to ask you out after the album reached 100 photos. the rest of the team knew it would happen eventually.

yuri

⋆ much like ghost, it took yuri quite some time to open up to physical affection.

⋆ in fact, he wouldn’t open up to affection at first. even when it could reasonably be seen as platonic and nothing more. he didn’t think he deserved it, be it from friend or lover.

⋆ you finally got him to crack one day, after a tough mission that ended in quite a few (minor) injuries. his back was killing him, so you offered him a massage. despite his reservations, he accepted it.

⋆ yuri didn’t expect to completely melt at your touch. by the end of the massage, his tense muscles were relaxed and he was hungry for more. touch-starved doesn’t even begin to describe how he felt.

⋆ at the beginning of your relationship, he struggled to give and accept affection. it takes a lot of patience and love to build up his confidence, but it’s well worth the effort once he finally starts to reciprocate.

⋆ big fan of back hugs, both in giving and receiving. to him, there’s just something so intimate in holding your partner while they work.

⋆ has a few habits once he’s comfortable in your relationship - interlocking your fingers, resting his hands on your lower back and hips, kissing your forehead… he’d never admit to it publicly, but he’s quite the romantic.

⋆ usually favors being the big spoon whenever you two cuddle. yuri is reasonably paranoid about your safety and his own, so he prefers to be free to move if necessary. knowing that you’re safe in his arms helps him sleep easier, as well.

⋆ that being said, he will fall asleep on your chest if given the chance. the sound of your heartbeat and your fingertips running up and down his back never fails to put him to sleep.

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yandere-kokeshi · 5 months

Text

Yandere Ghost with a chronically ill darling

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about being ill & doctor visits, and medication.

A/N: I’m chronically ill, and when reading fics, I feel quite left out due to my conditions; because of it, I decided to write my own! Hope you guys can enjoy <3.

It makes him more emotional than what’s prepared for him. Starting fresh, he’s a soldier– a man of dignity and wants to help people. But when learning of your illness, whether that’s you telling him, or finding out for himself, he wasn’t prepared to find days when he can’t help; rather playing the ‘waiting game’. Simon has to learn that even with your illness, pain is normal — and it’s something he didn’t expect he’d be getting used to.

While it makes him sad that you’re constantly in pain, it does make him feel a bit of sense of relief and pride; you can rely on him, Simon Riley only, and have him take you places where nobody should be doing.

His large and calloused hands come with goodness, which means back-rubs, or any kind of massage you’ve asked for, will be delivered in full. Simon getting into your knotted muscles, kissing your tender skin.

Simon is constantly hovering, and while he doesn’t mean to do it, he fears you’ll hurt yourself. The privilege of washing by yourself in the shower is taken away, but instead with him.

Adores it when you ask him for things, especially for affection, or that cup of drink you had left on the counter once you sit down. He always ensures that he never gets annoyed, and no, he won’t get angry if you want him to save the cooked-food for later due to your extreme nausea; the beloved man of yours had promised to take care of you, better than anyone.

He’s always willing to carry you. When feeling fatigued, extremely nauseous where you can’t see straight, he hikes you up on his back or comfortably carrying you bridal-style, and sitting you in a comfortable place. And no, he doesn’t care if it happens in public.

Routine is quite important — and he swiftly learned that from the start. In the early mornings, he has you up and ready by 9AM, helping you get dressed if needed, and helps take your medication with peppermint tea. His hand is rubbing your thigh in an affectionate sparse, supporting you with how you take it. Breakfast is served next, a good nutrient plate that’ll leave you full and maybe wanting a second plate. Then, move on reminding you of the doctor visits – easily driving you there with quiet music playing in the car.

Speaking of doctor visits, Simon is extremely confrontational and can get aggressive towards doctors who give you the doubts, or any type of attitude that ends with ‘not believing you’.

Nothing makes him angrier when it comes down to you being upset. He’ll bicker with the doctor, explaining that no you aren’t faking it, and yes, you’re in a lot of pain. Towards the end of the visit, his intimidating size and demanding threats end up working for the damn doctor(s) — his eyes narrowing at them as they escort you for another checkup. And suddenly, within the next few days that pass, they’re gone.

Flareups are a hard thing, especially if it affects the way you walk, talk, or your very mind. With this said, Simon treats you like glass, insisting you rest, and you let him take care of you. He ensures to cuddle you, letting you use his arm as a pillow, creates warmed baths that he’ll help wash your body with, and is constantly reminding you of how attractive you are, even with a sweaty body.

Hospital visits are annoying, and sometimes devastating. Laying down in the uncomfortable bed, continuous beeping of your vitals, and nurses walking in-and-out are exhausting. But, Simon is beside you, holding your hand and kissing it; whispering praises and asking if he can do anything to ease your boredom. Of course, he tries to ease your body aches with some horrible-but-good jokes.

Leaving for work is the hardest part for him. Whilst he knows you can handle yourself, having been doing it most of your life, he still hates leaving you alone; ‘what if’ questions spiraling in his mind about accidents that could happen.

Because of this, he often calls you — and leaves you text messages of “You doin’ okay?”, throughout the day when he can. And if you don’t answer? He gets really anxious, about ready to come back home to see you for himself.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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holylulusworld · 26 days

Text

April Fools' Day

Summary: Steve and Bucky ask you to join their prank.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader x Steve Rogers

Warnings: language, pranks, tricks, fluff, implied smut

“Doll, wait!” Bucky runs after you; he grasps your wrist to stop you from leaving the Avengers Tower. “Wait. Steve and I need your help.”

“Bucky, I’m about to get some coffee. I don’t have time for your pranks,” you give him a stern look. Every year on April Fool’s Day Steve and Bucky turn into annoying little shits. They love to prank the team and everyone crossing their path. “If you try to mess with me again, I’ll cut your hair off and dye Steve’s hair green.”

“We won’t prank you,” Bucky smirks, remembering how you ran out of your room at the tower. Your skin and hair were covered in green goo. “I swear.” He crosses his heart. “Please, for me.”

“Fine,” you size Bucky up. “Just you know — super-soldier or not. If you mess with me today, I’ll beat you into a pulp and make it look like an accident. After you pranked all of our friends for years, no one will ask questions.”

“No pranks, doll,” he takes your hand and presses a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Please help us here.”

“Okay, spill it, Rogers,” you huff and cross your arms over your chest. Steve grins like the devil when he reveals his plan for this year’s April Fools’ Day. “I don’t have all day. Bucky already ruined my break.”

“You will love it,” Steve smirks and steps closer to you. He places both hands on your shoulders, making you shudder. They don’t know what effect they have on you. “Bucky and I decided to tell the team that we will ask you out on a date.”

“What? I—what?” You wrinkle your forehead. “How’s that a prank? We had lunch and dinner together more than I can count. We even have movie nights at your place or Bucky's. Though, Bucky has better snacks.”

“Hah, I knew it,” Bucky grins.

“Doll, we will tell them that we are dating,” Steve snickers. “You know how often they teased us for being inseparable, and that we do more than watch movies together. Bucky and I decided to trick the team and tell them they were right the whole time.”

“Steve, that’s a stupid prank. Maybe you can just put itching powder in their pants or something,” you try not to be part of their prank. “And how do you want to pretend that we are dating?”

“We will take you out for dinner, doll,” Bucky explains. He points at the suits lying on Steve’s couch. “We got the suits, and you can wear a dress. Steve booked a table at that little Italian restaurant you like so much. We will go back to the tower and pretend we are having sex.”

“Uh-Bucky got some porn on his phone,” Steve admits cheeks shades of pink. “We will pump up the volume and everyone passing my room will believe we are…”

“Nailing our best friend,” Bucky ends his friend’s line. He grins and claps his hands. “That’s a good plan. Right?”

You don’t know what to say. “Guys, that’s…”

“The best prank ever!” Steve exclaims.

“The next morning, when everyone tries to hide they heard us,” Bucky smirks. “Bam, we reveal nothing happened and call them pervs!”

They grin like cocky boys, not the super-soldiers saving the world all the time. You sigh. This is the worst idea ever and you’d love to tell them the truth. But a free meal is a free meal.

“Sounds good to me. You’ll pay.” You point your index finger at Steve. “No excuses. And I want dessert too.”

“Doll—wow!” Bucky and Steve swallow thickly when you step out of your room. You’re wearing a stunning dress and heels. Usually, you’re in your tactical suit or comfortable clothes. They never saw you wearing anything like the dress before.

“You look dashing too,” you wink at them. “Ready?”

“Yeah…uh…sure…” Steve offers his arm to you, earning an angry look from Bucky. “We are ready to go, Y/N.”

“What Steve said,” Bucky places his hand on the small of your back. “You look beautiful tonight, doll.”

Natasha smirks as both men fight over you. Before you go you tell them to stop fighting and find an agreement. You end up with Steve holding your right hand while Bucky holds your left hand.

“I guess she set her plan into motion,” Sam grins at Natasha. “Damn, she was right about their prank.”

“Poor super-soldiers,” Natasha snickers. “They have no clue what they got themselves into. Y/N knew about their plans and turned the tables. She finally got them to ask her on a date.”

“Do you think they will finally admit their feelings?”

“Sam, did you see the dress? Y/N got them wrapped around her pinky by the end of the night and I’m fairly sure, we will need noise-reducing headphones from now on…”

Natasha was right. The moment you came back from dinner and entered Steve’s room, they were all over you. Bucky didn’t need his phone. You made the most erotic noises they ever heard…

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #April Fools' Day #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader x bucky #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you

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kookslastbutton · 11 months

Text

Sidelines ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Best friends since university, Yoongi has always been the first one rushing to your side. But when you fall into his arms after, yet again, another heartbreak, Yoongi reaches his breaking point.

Pairing: best friend!yoongi x fem!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends2lovers, oneshot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: cursing, impulsive confession, sexual content, also reader's true feelings are left a bit open ended

Sexual warnings: dom!Yoongi, slight brat!sub!reader, unprotected sex (don't follow thier lead!), begging, spanking, penetration, f*ngering, cunn*lingus, t*t play, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (princess), slight degradation (b*tch)

Now playing: Love The Way You Lie, Infinity, Escapism+

A/N: Had this idea for a while so when I tell you I sprinted through this oneshot, I SPRINTED. I had so much fun writing this and it’s def going in my personal favorites even though it may be a bit melodramatic and short. Enjoy! 💞

Yoongi stares at his phone–waiting.

Waiting for your name to pop on the screen.

Waiting for your shaky voice to ring through the phone, asking to come over.

Waiting for you to throw yourself into him in desperation to be held.

It should happen anytime now. Why haven’t you called yet? He’s thinking about making the first move but no. That would look too suspicious.

"Dude, you gotta tell her.” Namjoon looks at his friend with deep compassion. He’s known Yoongi since college. Knows the type of heart he carries in his chest. It’s beautifully devoted, warm, and open. But this time…this time it’s too much.

"It's not my place Joon,” Yoongi rasps. “I made a promise.

Yoongi thinks back to the day he met you. It was a cool autumn morning and you were poking around every brick building, nearly walking in circles. It was clear you were searching for something. Turns out it was the dining hall, which was no easy task to find with the campus being the size it was. You were a transfer student and being a recent transfer himself, Yoongi gladly walked you over. That became the first of many memories you’d share together.

Late study nights where you’d fall asleep on his shoulder. Stealing his sweatshirt with a devious yet playful smile. Always having not one pack of gum, but three in your bag. You loved gum for some odd reason. By senior year, Yoongi missed those days most and he wanted more than anything to tell you that a peice of himself was with you. How could he tell you though when you had begun spending every night with the captain of the hockey team? No, he wasn’t going to get in the way.

But he really should have. Heartbreak number one came when you found out your lovely hockey boyfriend had his tongue down some chick’s throat at a frat party. You’re kicking yourself for ever bawling your eyes over that jerk. Perhaps more pressing however is that Yoongi knew your boyfriend wasn’t a great guy. He even tried dropping hints that you ought to be careful with him but you didn’t listen. Despite everything, Yoongi was still the first to show up beside you that day. You won’t forget it.

Now four years out of university, you have a new man of the year who is, for the first time, genuine. Or at least that’s what you think. Yoongi knows otherwise. Just the other day he overheard said boyfriend planning to break up with you. When Yoongi stepped out to confront him, your boyfriend begged that he be the one to tell you. Yoongi promised he wouldn’t say anything which is what brings him to this very moment now.

"You can't keep doing this,” Namjoon urges. “Being her saving grace, her constant shoulder to cry on. It's not fair especially when–”

"She's my friend. I'd do it for you too."

“Bullshit. You’re still in love with her and she doesn’t even think twice about it. She still thinks of you as her older brother.”

“So let her think of me that way. A friend, an older brother…I can't turn my back on her after all this time. I won't."

“All I’m suggesting are boundaries Yoon. Or better yet, tell her how you feel. You're not turning your back on her by being honest. I see how much it pains you to see her running around with no-good losers every year or two when you’re always right next to her.”

The truth in Namjoon’s words stings, pricks like thorns. Yoongi wishes they didn’t but the tensing of his muscles and the heat steadily climbing the back of his neck were clear signs that he couldn't repulse them.

“It’s too late for–__!”

Yoongi's eyes instantly gravitate to his cell vibrating against the coffee table. He snatches it in seconds, bringing it to his ear.

“Yoongi! I–he….Yoongi he ended it with me," you say, voice cracking. Though not in front of him, Yoongi could see the tears trickling down your cheeks. He could feel the sunkenness deep in your heart. He shared this pain with you many times before and it burned stronger each time. "I'm shocked. I didn’t think…I’m sorry I’m having trouble thinking and–and speaking. Yoongi, please, please can I come over? Or can you come here? I know it's late but I just really need to be with someone right now.”

Yoongi turns his gaze to Namjoon who mouths the words 'don't' but he can't bring himself to agree. It goes against his nature and his devotion to you. Maybe his friend is right and you'll only ever see him platonically. One thing's for sure though–he can't lose you.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay there." Yoongi grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and bolts out the door.

"That jerk!" You splash cold water on your face, hoping it will clear your mascara-smudged face. Yoongi was about to come over and you looked like an absolute wreck. He couldn't see you like this again.

Quickly, you rush to your dresser and pull out a less wrinkled t-shirt and lounge pants. You head downstairs next to tidy up the space. You may or may not have had a tiny outrage after your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, told you he was leaving you. Yoongi couldn't see that either.

While cleaning your eyes prick with tears again. It hadn't registered to you now but there were reminders of your ex everywhere. Little gifts he'd given you. Pictures of the two of you on random excursions. How could he do this to you? You harden your face and stomp to the kitchen, searching for something big and black.

You start tossing everything in the garbage bag. Pictures, cards, trinkets, stuffed animals–it all went. And it felt good. It dried your tears. As you make your way around the room, you're suddenly stopped in your purge. A small smile breaks on your face when you see the gift Yoongi got you for graduation. It was a double picture frame with a vibrant orange leaf sealed inside. One photo was of you and Yoongi the first year you'd met. The other was the two of you on graduation day. Yoongi put this together to commemorate your friendship. He's still your day one, you sigh. Four years and he's still here to help you pick up the pieces.

"___!"

Thumpthumpthump

"It's me, open the door," Yoongi gruffs from the hallway. You drop the garbage bag and immediately stride over. You pat yourself down before letting him in.

"Yoongi, hi."

Yoongi takes your invitation and paces inside. "Bit of spring cleaning __?" Of course the garbage bag is the first thing he sees. You fiddle with your hands unsure what to say. "I'm sorry ___. He didn't deserve you."

You bury your face in his shoulder, biting back the growing temptation to cry. Yoongi brings you into a closer embrace. His arms hold firmly around your own shoulders. "Thank you for coming. I know it's late so I understand if you can't stay long."

"I'm here as long as you need." Yoongi pauses, recalling your brief conversation earlier on the phone. "You know you can cry around me ___."

"I'm f–"

"Fine?" Yoongi loosens his grip to look at you. "The clothes, the dried tears, the giant garbage bag in the living room? Needing someone to be here because you don't want to be alone tonight. What part is fine? Because I'm not. Neither are you." His thumb gently strokes your shoulders, soothing your tensed muscles. "So if you need to cry, yell, whatever. Do it."

Wetness caresses your cheeks again and this time you don't wipe them away. "Why does this keep happening?" Your voice cracks as you peer into your best friend's eyes. "They never love me. No one ever does."

His dark eyes soften and you nearly see them glass over through your own tear-filled eyes. You search Yoongi's face for a response but all Yoongi can hear is the echo of Namjoon's words – "All I’m suggesting are boundaries Yoon. Or better yet, tell her how you feel. You're not turning your back on her by being honest. I see how much it pains you to see her running around with no-good losers every year or two when you’re always right next to her".

Yoongi is silent for a moment, mauling over what his friend said. You see him hesitating for the first time in a while. "So–so why do you choose them?" He chokes.

You're a little stunned. This isn't how this usually goes. If you didn't know any better you'd think there was an accusatory tone in your best friend's question. It's unnatural and you're slow to reply.

"Because..."

Yoongi stands still, concentrated on you.

"I don't know. Because they seem kind? And I want to give them a chance."

That's it? Yoongi isn't sure he's hearing you right. Surely there would be more to it. He expected so. Before he's able to retract the words they're already out. "Then what am I? I've never had a chance."

Reflexively, you push away from him. No. No this isn't happening. You must have misheard. "What do you mean?"

"From someone, I mean. No one ever given me the chance to be with them like that so you're very...uh very open." Lies. You're lying again, Yoongi thinks. But look how she broke away from you?

"Oh, I thought you meant...."

You know what? Screw it. Namjoon's right–"You're not turning your back on her by being honest".

"I did." He clenches his fists. "I meant it exactly how you interpret it. I–I love you. And if it isn't love it's damn close."

Your heart drops, mind scatters in twisted directions. You've heard of friends growing feelings for each other before but you never thought–why now? After four years of being next to each other and going out with all those guys. Why didn't he say anything? And when did it happen? Did he always feel this way? Oh my god.

"Sorry, I panicked," Yoongi continues. "But those guys you go out with? They don't care about you like I do. Every time they hurt you it makes me want to scream 'I'm here if you see us as anything more'. But I'm terrified to lose you ___. That's why I kept it to myself."

"Yoongi I–I don't know if..." You stop seeing his heavy eyes. You don't want to break his heart but you can't tell what you're feeling. You never took the time to think of him in these terms. But one thing was for sure. You walk up to Yoongi and take hold of his hand. "You'll never lose me. Do you hear me? You're my best friend and I could never let you go."

"But did you hear me?" Yoongi squeezes your hand. "I love you ___. I don't expect it to be reciprocated so...."

"We can try." Without thinking you close the distance between your best friend. You move to press a soft kiss to his lips but Yoongi lunges backwards.

"Please don't," he says. "You don't need to force yourself ___. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't supposed to be about me tonight, I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. This is about us now, our friendship. I'm glad you told me and to be honest, I'm not saying no. I'm saying we can try."

Yoongi sighs and leans on the back of your couch, arms crossed and eyes downward. "You just got out of a relationship ___."

"Yeah so? We were only together for a few months. I don't even think I loved him."

"But you could have with more time."

You join Yoongi next to the couch. "I mean sure maybe if he didn't break up with me."

"___. Don't you see?" Yoongi turns his face towards yours. "We've had four years together. I don't want you to try to love me, I want you to love me naturally. Like I do. And if, after four years you don't then I don't want to put that kind of pressure on you."

"You're not pressuring me to do anything. You've always been there for me through everything and i care very deeply for you. Maybe I haven't thought of you as more than a friend because I didn't let myself to. Maybe I was too caught up in everyone else that I just..." You pause, setting a hand on his shoulder.

"What if we try and nothing changes? Or something happens and we break each other," Yoongi interrupts. "We'll never recover."

"Do you have that little faith in us?" You place a hand on his other shoulder, turning his whole body around. "Because I don't. Perhaps you're right that something might happen that makes things complicated. But I know we won't let it get out of hand. In fact, something beautiful might come out of this. Don't you want to find out?"

He does. Of course, he does. But was this how you really felt? "You were really upset earlier," he says. "I don't want to cloud your judgment, especially after what happened."

You lean into him closer, lips hovering over his. "I don't care about that anymore. All I care about is my best friend and I really, really want to give this a chance."

Yoongi searches for any hesitation. It's hard to do when you're mere inches from him. He's tempted to lean forward and close the distance completely– to say yes. So you do it for him.

You weave your hands through Yoongi's silky dark hair and press a firm kiss to his lips. He's disoriented at first but like a tidal wave, everything he's been holding back rushes out as he moves harder against you. You feel his hands travel down to the small of your back and snake around your waist. A tongue finds its way inside your mouth next. It dances with yours in a fiery passion. Your body burns up with every touch, every kiss. It's a foreign feeling but you welcome it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Yoongi murmurs.

You give a faint smile and take his hand. "There's no one I'd rather do this with." You guide him down the hall and into your bedroom. Yoongi pulls you into another kiss, this time resting a pair of cool hands underneath the fabric of your t-shirt. You moan softly into the kiss and pull the t-shirt over your head.

"I'd tell you that you look beautiful but you already know that." Yoongi traces up your sides and along the band of your bra. It tickles for a moment but then you remember who you're with, where you are, and what you're doing.

"Not so fast," you pull back from his grasp and eye his covered chest. Yoongi picks up on your signal and rids himself of his shirt, revealing his smooth, tan torso. You've seen him shirtless before but when did he get so muscular?

With lust-blown eyes, you're pushed on your back next, sinking into your mattress. Yoongi hovers above you. A light peck is placed on your collarbone before moving to the valley between your neck and shoulder.

"Yoongi."

"Mm?"

"How long have you loved me?" Yoongi open-mouth kisses the ridge of your neck. You close your eyes, anticipating his response. "When did you know?"

"Last year of university when you started going out with that jackass on the hockey team." Yoongi lifts his head from your neck and looks at you. "What did you ever see in him? I thought you said you give the kind ones chances, not asses like him."

You nibble on your bottom lip and wrap your arms around his neck playfully. "Oh no, him? He was just hot. I wasn't really thinking very much when we got involved...if you know what I mean?" You raise an eyebrow but yelp when Yoongi digs his hands behind you to unhook your bra. He snaps the lacy fabric off the rest of your body and throws it on the ground.

"Yeah?" Yoongi gruffs. Well, who's little bitch are now? Answer me." He gives your left nipple a tug. You feel a wetness gather between your legs but it wasn't from the stimulation of your nipple. It was his tone, his demeanor. Yoongi never talked like this and it made all the hairs on your body stand.

"Are you–jealous?"

"Wrong answer princess." Yoongi pinches your nipple again. "I'll ask you again, who's bitch are you?"

"No ones." You flip the man over and straddle his waist. "Who's bitch are you?"

Yoongi growls and gives you a hard slap on your ass. When you let out a moan, the man underneath goes feral–riveting with desire. You're thrown on your back again with legs spread apart. Yoongi waits for your nod before yanking your pants off, along with your panties. He does the same to himself, cock hardening in your view. Fuck, you curse to yourself. You had no idea what he was packing until now.

Yoongi settles between your thighs and stares you dead straight in the eye. "We're gonna have a little competition princess. I'm gonna eat you out and if you finish without begging to have my cock then I'll be your bitch. Deal?"

You swallow hard and nod. Who knew your best friend was this nasty. "Deal," you reply, widening your legs. Yoongi smirks and runs a cool finger along your slit. You feel the pit of your core tighten upon contact but keep a straight face. "I thought you were eating me–fuck!"

Yoongi pushes in, breaching your walls as far as he could with his finger. He adds a second in after two pumps, focusing on your reaction. "There's something you should know ___." He begins circling his thumb on your clit, causing your head to throw back in the process. "I don't like brats. So if this was any other time, I'd probably already be fucking your tight, wet pussy. But it's our first time together." Yoongi retracts his fingers instantly, soaked with your cum. "I'll go easy on you."

"Shit." You claw at the sheets. Yoongi licks a long stripe up your folds, dipping between ever so often just to see your hips jolt. His hands dig into your inner thighs, driving your senses wild. "Ah! Yoongi!"

"Need to come princess?"

You struggle to reply, bringing a hand up to latch on his hair. "I–ah–I'm not even close-close yet!"

Hearing your response, Yoongi thrusts his fingers back in, creating a steady rhythm with his tongue. "Fuckfuckfuck!" you curse, knot twisting inside you. You feel Yoongi smirk that same cocky smirk from earlier as he continues eating you out. "Yoongi, I'm close now!"

"Are you? Beg for my cock and I'll let you come."

What the actual fuck? "You're such-ah-a cheater! Well I'm not gonna–fuck! Please, please I need to come."

No response.

"Okay...okayokay. Please, Yoongi, can I have your cock?" You immediately come, tightening your hold on his hair. "Oh my god Yoongi, you're so evil fuck!" You give him a slap on the chest once you release. Yoongi grins down at you and catches your wrist.

"Who's bitch are you?" Slowly, he crawls further up your body, pinning your arm above your head. He grabs your other arm and places it on top of the other. "Are you really not gonna say it?"

"Yours. I'm yours, Yoongi."

"Damn straight you are. Now keep them there." He squeezes your wrists together before placing his hands on either side of your head. He bends down and gives you a passionate kiss. "You really are beautiful ___. Are you still sure you wanna do this?"

"Please."

Yoongi caresses your check, aligns himself with your entrance, and pushes in. Your mouth falls wide, but nothing comes out for a moment. Once you adjust, you give a slight nod.

"Fuck." Yoongi moves inside you, penetrating through your velvety walls. Your eyes roll upwards as his close shut. "Oh god, Yoongi–faster please," you breathe.

Yoongi pushes deeper in you, his length pulling in and out of your hole at a rhythmic pace. Beads of sweat form along his forehead and your around your neck. You let out a loud moan once feeling the cord within you wind up again. Yoongi soon feels it too, quickening his speed.

"I can't believe we're doing this-ah shit!"

Your hands, struggling to stay down, jolt with every thrust. You look deep into Yoongi's eyes, his staring straight back into yours. You're both grinning too, like idiots really. "Me neither. But I'm glad we are."

Yoongi kisses you again. It's sloppier than before but you couldn't care less. "You're gonna come soon mm? Because I know I am. This pussy is so tight-fuck-it's basically swallowing my cock. Brat like you love this shit don't you?"

You laugh and rustle through his hair but your arm is pinned back down. Yoongi starts moving inside you as fast and hard as he can, breasts bouncing against his muscular chest. He so close and so are you. "Asked you a question princess."

Your back arches as he fucks into you. "Yes-yes we do! Fuck, I'm gonna come. If it doesn't happen now it'll–"

"Come for me __." Yoongi pushes himself into you one last time before both of you finish, gasping for breath. You feel his length pull out of you shortly after.

Side by side now, hot and sweaty, Yoongi looks at you. "What the fuck did we just do?"

You grin and leap on part of his chest. "We're giving us a chance."

"By starting with sex?" Yoongi throws an arm around you. "Let's do this properly and go on a date tomorrow."

You giggle and bury your head in his shoulder. Goof. Maybe, this does have a real chance of working out. "Okay," you whisper.

A/N: Thanks for stopping by! As always, lmk your thoughts. See ya! 💞

Masterlist

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts au #bts scenarios #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #fic:sidelines #kookslastbutton

969 notes · View notes

simmerandwrite · 27 days

Text

Sink Into Me - 09 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Wordcount: 11k

Warnings: angst, allusions to dog fighting (but no mention of any kind of abuse), smut

Notes: here we go!! I have so much to say but I'll summarize it with a big thank you!! to everyone who read, reblogged and followed along for the journey. y'all made this so much more fun! can't wait to hear your thoughts!! and while this is the end of Sink Into Me, this universe may stick around for a while. a few more notes on this at the end ;) thank you thank you thank you! enjoy!!

“Hi,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes in the low light streaming in from his lamp.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning you for any signs of distress.

You shrugged, taking in a deep breath. Then Steve took a step back, waving his arm to invite you in. You released your lungs slowly, nodding and following him inside. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed and offered the open blanket to you, arms wide.

You just nodded again, crawling under the comforter and finding a spot - your spot - underneath his arms.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you pulled away from him. A strange empty laugh escaped you.

“I can’t believe… an hour ago… I was being held at gunpoint. That’s crazy. Isn’t that crazy?” The whole thing suddenly hit you like a ton of bricks, all of it. The ambush on your way home, the brute force, the cold rain, the gun.

“Sweetheart..” Steve sat up the same way you did.

You shook your head and shuffled to the side of the bed and planted your feet on the floor, sitting there as you caught your breath.

“Hey, hey. Just breathe, okay?” He scrambled off the bed, coming around the kneel in front of you. With one hand, he reached out and placed it on your knee. You dropped yours onto his and squeezed it. “I’m.. baby, I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, taking in a few deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered your name, brushing his thumb against your knee. “I’m sorry for everything. Ever since that day.. On the street, outside the restaurant, just by saving me - you had a target on your back and it’s my fault. I hurt you and put you in danger and it’s my fault.”

The silence washed over you both again.

Steve continued, quieter. “Is there anything I can do or say right now to help you? I know you’re probably scared and I can’t fix that but… your well being, that’s all that matters to me.”

You exhaled and opened your eyes. “I.. I’m hungry.”

Steve blinked. “Uh, okay. Sure. I can order a pizza or we could..” His lips twitched into a brief smile. “How about grilled cheese?”

—

Truthfully, Steve wasn’t always stocked up on the basics but this time he was grateful for what few groceries remained in his fridge. There was a strange silence as you headed to the kitchen. Steve got to work grabbing what he needed for grilled cheese making while you sat at his small dining room table.

Hercules followed you closely, finding a new place to sleep at your feet.

You fiddled with the tag of the tea bag in your cup of chamomile, quiet. The frying pan sizzled.

“Steve?”

Your voice drew his attention away from his task at hand. He turned. “Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the fire? At, uh, your mom’s clinic?”

He stilled then turned back towards the stovetop. He flicked off the element and plated the sandwiches, joining you at the table. He slid a plate across to you.

“I would have, eventually. I didn’t want to scare you,” he finally replied, biting on his lip before he continued. “There was a street gang making a big mess in Brooklyn years ago now. In this type of work, uh, gangs usually coexist. Not always peacefully, of course.”

You took a bite of your sandwich and watched Steve carefully.

“This particular group - called themselves the Red Skulls, led by this absolute menace Johann Schmidt.”

“Oh,” you tipped your head to the side, nodding. “I think I remember hearing about him in the news a few years ago.”

“Probably. They were fucking messy. Schmidt was a piece of work especially. There are a lot of things I do not tolerate in my city and he crossed a very serious line.” Steve rolled his neck. God, maybe he shouldn’t be telling you this. But what did he have to lose now? Honesty was all he had left. “Long story short - we took down one of the Red Skulls trafficking operations. They were kidnapping sex workers.” He took in a sharp breath, eyes closing at the resurfacing memories. “Ma looked after everyone we helped escape and Schmidt retaliated by setting fire to the clinic...”

And Steve had been at some fucking club that night. Volleying between shots of liquor and lines of coke, he nearly missed the most important phone call of his goddamn life.

Steve lost himself in his downward spiral of thoughts as memories of his mother’s recovery flashed through his mind. When he came back to reality, you were looking at him. There was a strange sadness in your eyes.

“That wasn’t your fault, Steve,” you said quietly, tearing off another piece of your sandwich.

He laughed, shaking his head. “The people I care about, the ones I love - you, included now - there is a target on their back, on your back. Forever. I pushed you away and for what? They still..” He dragged both of his hands down his face, head shaking again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. For.. everything.”

You blinked again, then looked down at your plate. “When you called me and broke up with – that day. What you said to me, it was so careless and..”

“Mean?” Steve finished for you. That’s what you had said. He was mean. No, he had been worse than mean. It was cruel and he had done it on purpose.

“Yeah. Why couldn’t you just be honest? If you care about me so much, how could you say those things?”

He wasn’t sure if he should answer, if he could. But you were looking at him and waiting.

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly, leaning back in his chair and gazing out towards the window. “Because I wasn’t thinking straight. I was emotionally compromised. Natasha barely talked to me for weeks after that night. That was another constant reminder that I really fucked up..”

You sighed. After a few beats, you finally found some words. “What do we do now?”

He looked back at you. “I know I hurt you. I think about it every single fucking day and I can’t undo it, I wish I could undo it.” He took in a hard breath. “I can’t even ask for you to forgive me because it isn’t fair. Not after tonight. Because after all this, how could you ever?” An empty, somber laugh rumbled through him. “I’m just.. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could press reset.”

The silence hung between you both again. You finished your sandwich and looked back at Steve.

“I’m tired,” you said softly, stifling a yawn. “Can I.. sleep beside you?”

Steve nodded. “Of course.”

–

You woke up the next morning in Steve’s bed, alone. Somewhere far away, probably in the kitchen, you could hear him on the phone. With a deep sigh, you got up and put yourself back together.

Hercules trotted towards you as you departed from Steve’s room. You followed him back towards the kitchen where Steve had put a modest little breakfast together. He ended his phone call when he saw you, then joined you at the table with a pot of coffee.

Your conversation was minimal. You briefly panicked as you recalled the fake meeting Ward had arranged for you with Hammond, but Steve was quick to tell you he had dealt with it.

Eventually, after your quiet breakfast, you asked to return to your own apartment. Steve insisted on driving you there and walking you to your door. When you got to your building, you noticed an additional security guard posted near the front desk.

You wondered if Steve had something to do with that.

When you got to your door, you opened it and let Hercules in before you turned to Steve.

You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t sure what was supposed to happen now. Truthfully, nothing felt real.

You felt numb.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” Steve asked, tipping his head just slightly to search your face. “If you wanted to stay at a hotel or–”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’m just tired. I’m going to take the rest of the day to try and clear my mind.”

“Well, if you need anything at all, call me. Please.”

You hesitated. What were you and Steve now? Friends? Exes? Something more? Something less? You couldn’t figure it out and you were too scared to ask. What did you even want with him?

“Did you unblock my number then?” Your lips twitched into a momentary smile.

Steve didn’t smile back. He was serious and for a second, you watched as he hesitated to reply too. “Of course I did. I never should have..” He closed his eyes. “Call me, anytime. For anything. If something ever feels wrong or someone..” Releasing a long breath, he met your eyes once more. Your name left his lips, quiet, like a whisper. “I can’t figure out what else to say other than that I’m sorry. Again. I just.. I wish I could fix everything and erase what happened last night and.. I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life.”

You squeezed his closest hand. You didn’t know what to say. You raised yourself up slightly onto your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Then you disappeared into your apartment.

You called your mom that afternoon. And while you didn’t give her any details about what had happened in the last 24 hours of your life, you found it necessary to still call her and tell her how much you loved her. She didn’t ask why you were reaching out or question the way your voice cracked, but you knew she was concerned.

The rest of the day, you slept on and off. Eventually, you ordered in for dinner and forced yourself to sit with the feelings you were wrestling with. What was it? What was going on?

Were you scared? Yes, sure. Even though the incident had been isolated and specific, even though the men responsible were either in custody with law enforcement or being kept directly underneath Steve’s foot, you had reason to feel unsettled.

How could you deal with it though? Enough rational thought brought your heart rate down enough to strategize if anything ever happened again. Pepper spray on keychain, maybe one of those spikey keyrings that doubled as defense weapons.. A self defense class? Maria told you she had taken one before and she found it empowering. Maybe you needed to feel empowered, too.

It was strange though, as you let your mind fester over your feelings, one constant helped keep you steady and walked you back from your edge of anxiety. Steve. When you felt unsafe, Steve had helped you, protected you, saved you.

You didn’t even know what you were to him anymore and yet, he carried on as if you were the most important thing in the world. That helping, protecting, saving you was a responsibility he didn’t take lightly. Steve.. He just.. You just..

Steve. Steve was calling. You shook off your layer of feelings analysis and answered your buzzing phone, sitting up on the couch as you brought it to your ear. It was late.

“Hello?”

“Hey.. thanks for.. I wanted to check in, see how you’re doing. If I’m overstepping, feel free to hang up on me, though.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You’re not overstepping.” You’re being Steve. “I’m okay, yeah. Calm and mostly relaxed. I’m..”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He paused and you swore you could hear him overthinking what to say next. “Would you tell me the truth though? If you weren’t.. Okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I would.”

“I appreciate that, really. I know you don’t owe me anything but I’m worried.”

You smiled to yourself. “I’m okay.” You knew repeating it may not reassure him, but it helped you. “Oh, actually. I was thinking about something.. Uhm, when they..” You breathed in slowly. “When they took Hercules, they mentioned some weird threat about him fighting. Is that.. Does that mean they.. That there is a dog fighting, uhm, thing or..” You couldn’t even bear to finish what you were thinking.

“Bucky is already investigating, sweetheart. If that exists, we’re going to stop it. I promise you.”

–––

The next evening, Steve called again. To check in and make sure you were still okay. It was funny - because you had a feeling that his phone calls weren’t the only thing Steve had implemented when it came to ensuring your wellbeing. A new lock system had been installed at the front of your building and that same security guard was patrolling when you left for work that morning too.

The next night he called to see how you were. Then the next and the next and the next.

One night, after you told Steve that you were okay, again, you felt an urge to keep him on the line. For some reason, your conversation started to feel like they used to when you first met - friendly, but a hint of something else, something more. But did you want that? Did he?

“While I have you, though. I was wondering if I had to ask Clint for permission if I wanted to paint my apartment - do you know? Or is it like free reign?”

Steve laughed on his side of the phone. “I can get Clint to find you a painter tomorrow, if you want.”

“Oh, no.” You dismissed that idea quickly. “I want to do it myself. I think it would be fun.”

“Well then, since it’s my building, consider this your permission to paint whatever you want. And if you need some extra hands, I’d be happy to help.”

–––

A week later, you answered another late call from Steve.

“It’s late, I can let you go. I’m sure Hercules is already asleep beside the bed waiting for you..”

You smiled to yourself briefly, then sighed. “I’ve been in bed for a while, actually.”

“Oh.” You heard Steve pause. “You didn’t have to take my call.”

“I can’t sleep tonight.”

He paused again. His voice was slower this time, softer. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just..” It was probably just the late day coffee you had or the tight stress you were holding in your body. “..can’t sleep, I guess.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Maybe you could.. I don’t know, just talk a bit. Tell me a story? From your childhood or high school or something?” You stifled a yawn. “Anything..”

After another beat, Steve’s voice returned in your ear. “Okay. Let’s see. Technically I’m forbidden to share this story but me and Buck had to take a theater class in high school and..”

–––

Steve called you pretty early one night, just as you were coming home from picking up Hercules.

You dropped onto your couch and quickly pulled on the nearest throw blanket the moment you walked into the apartment. When you noticed Steve on the caller ID, you answered right away.

“Hi,” you said through a yawn, laying flat on the cushions. It sounded like Steve sighed in relief on the other end of the phone. “Steve? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Hey sweetheart,” he continued quickly. Damn. When he slipped in the sweetheart pet name, your heart got really confused. “Just nice to hear your voice.”

“Are you okay?” You repeated the question, sitting up from your lounging position.

“I am,” he confirmed. “There’s just something I need to tell you, before you hear about it on the news.”

“Okay..”

“Rumlow - Brock Rumlow.. You remember him?” Before you could answer, Steve laughed. “That’s a stupid question. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten Rumlow.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve’s commentary. “No, I haven’t forgotten Brock Rumlow.” Your momentary elation soon disappeared when you considered why Steve might be mentioning Rumlow by name. “What about him?”

“He died today.”

A silence fell between you. “In prison?”

“Yes. Considering how high profile his arrest was, it will likely make the evening news. Maybe it’s already published, I don’t know. I just wanted to warn you before you heard.”

“Okay.” You paused again. “Steve - did you–”

“This had nothing to do with me, surprisingly.” He let out some weird exaggerated laugh again. “I wasn’t his only enemy.” That was Steve choosing what to say and you supposed that was fine. The nitty gritty details really weren’t needed. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Even though he couldn’t see you, you shrugged, laying back down. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just.. it’s weird to say relieved but..I shouldn’t feel relief over someone’s death, right? Maybe I don’t know how to react.”

“That’s normal, I’d say.” He paused. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“I do get scared. I think about that night a lot.” You sighed. “But I’ve lived in New York long enough to know that the weird person on the subway probably doesn’t give a shit about me, so I shouldn’t be worried about them.”

“What weird person on the subway?” Steve asked quickly. You could hear him shuffling, maybe going from sitting to standing. “Where did you see–”

“Steve.” You cut him off, with a quiet laugh. “That was hypothetical. I’ve been alright lately, I promise. And remember, I said I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

You heard him let out a long sigh. “Okay.”

“Thank you for calling me and giving me a heads up though,” you continued. “Maybe I’ll mute my news feeds for a few days.”

–––

You [7:01PM]: what do you think? It has taken a few weeks from start to finish but…

You [7:01PM]: (IMG_9116) S Rogers [7:02PM]: that’s a great colour S Rogers [7:03PM]: so. what was the ratio of paint on wall vs paint on you? You [7:03PM]: wow! Rude. You [7:03PM]: 90/10 You [7:04PM]: (IMG_9121) S Rogers [7:06PM]: very cute S Rogers [7:06PM]: even with paint in your hair ;)

–––

Thanksgiving wasn’t your favourite holiday. The food was fine and sure, it was a great excuse for some time off work.

Into adulthood, you were really appreciative of the friendsgiving tradition instead. Especially because your mother was spending the holiday in Jacksonville with her cousin, leaving you mostly without plans for the big day.

Friendsgiving you took seriously. Claire was hosting this year, the weekend before Thanksgiving since she had to work on the holiday, and you had been tasked with dessert making, which was totally up your alley. Maria had offered assistance, so together you were spending your Friday night making the most out of your oven and counter space.

It was going well, although you had started a lot later than planned. It made for a late night but you were in good company with Maria. Having a night in with one of your closest friends wasn’t something you took for granted. Between flour measurements and preparing fruit, you and Maria spent the entire night talking. It was exactly what you needed.

Just before midnight, you were taking the pecan pie out of the oven and Maria was finishing off the dishes. Just as you turned to join her at the sink, a loud banging started at your door. You gasped, probably too loudly for a sane person, and met Maria’s wide confused stare.

Hercules awoke from his bed in your room and trotted towards the door, cautious.

You walked over behind him, holding your breath as another knock echoed.

“Jesus, Barnes - you’re going to scare her to death..”

Barnes? Was that.. Clint’s voice?

Maria followed behind you, pausing as you looked through the peephole.

“Who is knocking on your door at midnight?” Maria asked quietly.

You sighed. Bucky and Clint, apparently. What on earth?

After unlocking the door, you opened it, stopping the bickering men in the middle of their conversation.

“Hello?” You returned their awkward greetings with a small wave. “Can I help you?”

“What is that smell?” Clint’s eyes widened, looking over your shoulder into the apartment. “Are you baking?”

“Can I help you?” You repeated, turning your attention to Bucky directly. “What are you doing here?”

Bucky let out a breath before dragging a hand down his jaw. “So, here’s the thing, doll. My good friend Steve - you know Steve, right? He’s currently spiraling because you haven’t answered your phone or any of his messages all night..” He stood up a bit straighter, looking between you and Maria. “Given the uh..well, he’s just worried about you. Sent us up to check in.. And, since you are clearly very alive and safe, we should..” He paused. “Do I smell snickerdoodles?”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, inviting the men inside. Maria grabbed the container of fresh cookies and offered them each one.

“If Steve is concerned, why isn’t he at the door?” Maria wondered out loud.

“Boundaries,” Clint answered with a mouth full of cookies.

Bucky thwacked him on the shoulder. “Manners, Barton.” Bucky waited to bite his own cookie, then nodded. “He’s politely keeping his distance.”

You sighed, then looked over at Maria. You had filled your friend in on most of the details about you and Steve and what your recent reconnection looked like. Minus the whole warehouse rooftop situation. You weren’t sure how to share that. But the confusing new feelings and conversations.. They had proved difficult to process alone.

Not to mention that after you and Steve had broken up, your friends had loyally become very anti-Steve. Which you very much appreciated and if the roles were reversed, you’d have done the same for them. But people and relationships were complicated. You weren’t sure how your friends would react to the whole thing.

Maria, for example, had been incredibly cautious and resistant when you filled her in. Not that she didn’t believe in giving people second chances - but instead held true to the fact that all men were just big clueless morons who never did the right thing. You couldn’t fault her for that opinion either. But even if you figured out your own feelings and walls, you’d never be able to really date Steve again if your friends hated him.

“Hmm,” Maria leaned against your counter, removing the dish cloth from her shoulder as she organized her things. “Well, you should walk me out.” She turned to you. “Points to Steve for respecting boundaries and still caring about you, but I’d feel better seeing him grovel up close.”

Clint let out a belly laugh. “Me too”

While Maria and Clint headed out, you took the opportunity to put Hercules’ leash on for one last trip outside before bed. When you stepped into the hallway, Bucky was waiting for you.

“This isn’t my place and I know you’re smart enough,” he started slowly, dropping his hand down to accept a lick from Hercules. “But you know you don’t owe Steve anything right? I told him that the day might come where you don’t answer his phone calls and he has to deal with it on his own. If you close the door, he will keep his distance.”

You scrunched up your face, then shrugged. “Thanks, Bucky. Sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of emotional support for him.”

“You have no idea, doll. It’s part of my role as lifelong best friend, unfortunately. It’s a heavy burden to bear,” Bucky laughed, shrugging too. “He’s got some demons to work through - I guess we all do. Right now with you though? He’s trying real hard not to look like he’s trying.”

You caught up with Clint and Maria at the elevator then headed to the lobby. As you walked out, you spotted Sam leaning against the front desk, chatting with the overnight doorman. And then there was Steve - standing at attention, hands locked behind his back, an equal distance between the front entrance and the elevators. He was dressed in what you considered his normal attire - a crisp navy suit over a plain shirt, no tie. He made effortless look so damn good and you sort of hated it.

When he saw you, he took a few strides forward.

Bucky and Clint joined Sam to the side while Maria lingered behind your shoulder. Hercules tugged on his leash and pulled you towards Steve immediately, clearly overjoyed to see him.

“Hey,” you started as you approached. “I unintentionally ignored your calls, I’m sorry. Just plugged my phone in and forgot about it for a while.”

Steve shook his head quickly. You couldn’t help but see his resolve lighten, as if seeing you caused his shoulders to relax. “You don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have dragged everyone here, there was just this..” Whatever Steve was going to say, he seemed to change his mind. He blinked twice then scanned you. “Is that.. flour?” He reached and brushed your shoulder clean.

“We’ve been baking,” you filled in quickly, doing your best to try and read him. “Claire is hosting us for Friendsgiving tomorrow and–”

“You should come!” Maria blurted out from behind you.

With wide eyes, you looked over your shoulder at her. ‘What?’ you mouthed.

Now it was Maria’s turn to shrug. “Claire said her cousin had to bail so there’s an extra seat and..” She took a step forward, nodding at you in reassurance before looking at Steve. “And Luke will be there. So.. you know, you’ll have a friend..”

“I thought Claire invited Matt?” You couldn’t help but ask as your brain caught up to you. “That doesn’t..” You turned back to Steve. “You are more than welcome to come. I know you’re busy and have a lot of–”

“I’d love to,” Steve answered slowly, as if trying to make sure you were even okay with the concept. You reached out and grabbed his nearest hand, with a squeeze. That seemed to be reassurance enough. “What can I bring?”

Steve and his crew left shortly after, not before Steve gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. You forced Maria to join you outside with Hercules before her Uber showed up. The fresh air was something you really needed to cool down.

“So,” You turned to Maria, tipping your head to the side dramatically. “What the hell was that?”

Maria whined out your name, shaking her head. “That guy is in love with you. And trust me, he has a long way to go before I will trust him again, but damn. He looks at you like you’re the most important person on the planet. And I think you love him too.”

“Maria..” You sighed, leaning your head onto her shoulder. “I don’t know how things got so complicated.”

“I just want you to be happy and safe,” she carried on, giving you a small pat on the head. “I get that not everyone is into second chances but.. I don’t know, life is short. If you feel comfortable giving the guy another chance, then we could too. Maybe. Wanda for sure can get on board, Claire might have some reservations.”

“And inviting Steve tomorrow is supposed to be some test?”

“Obviously,” Maria smirked, looking like you had said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I think it’s only fair for us to really get to know him.”

–––

Claire lived in a beautiful rent controlled apartment in the middle of Harlem. She complained about the location every now and then - it wasn’t the smoothest commute for her to get to work - but at the end of the day, it was functional and roomy.

Which was good, considering you, Claire and Maria had rearranged most of her living room and kitchen area to host a dozen people for Friendsgiving. With a set of borrowed chairs and a folding table from Claire’s downstairs neighbour, you managed to set up the area just in time before everyone started to arrive.

When Maria had spilled in the group chat about inviting Steve to dinner, Claire had been apprehensive but on board, for your sake. And although you had been grateful for your friends’ open mindedness when it came to Steve, you were suddenly nervous about the whole thing.

Mostly because - oh god, what if he had a terrible time? Or what if he got a phone call in the middle of dinner and had to disappear? Was he going to bring a gun with him? Jesus, you hadn’t even thought about that and what if-

Claire dropped a hand on your shoulder. “Girl, you need to chill.” She urged a glass of your preferred wine into your free hand and sent you away from the kitchen area. “He’s just a man, remember.”

You laughed and clinked your glass with hers. Claire was always a good voice of reason, which you appreciated. You turned to her with a smile. “A good reminder, thank you. But speaking of men - why did you invite both your current fling and your ex to this?”

Before Claire could defend her own actions, Maria was answering a knock at the door and guests started to arrive. After a few arrivals, you were the one greeting at the door and you couldn’t hold back your smile when Steve showed up, with Luke at his side.

“Hey,” you said, politely stepping aside to let Luke in while you lingered in the doorway with Steve. “You look nice.” It felt silly to say but you couldn’t help yourself. Steve had traded his typical suit for a pair of dark brown slacks and a knitted red striped polo. His hair was perfectly coiffed and you just wanted to… kiss him. Damnit.

Steve smirked in response, pulling you into a side hug. “You look nice, sweetheart.” Okay, yes, you had picked out one of your favourite dresses. But that was because you wanted to dress up for Friendsgiving, that was the only reason.

After he shed his coat, you noticed Steve was carrying flowers. You didn’t even have a moment to comment on them before he headed towards the kitchen, where he presented the bouquet directly to Claire. She accepted them with a smile, and when he turned away, you caught her eye. She pointed towards the flowers and mouthed ‘Ten points!’

It didn’t surprise you that Steve managed to socialize effectively with everyone he just met, but he truly did such an impressive job holding conversations. Before dinner, he engrossed himself in a chat with Claire’s on-again-off-again ex-boyfriend Matt, the lawyer, and his coworker Foggy. They seemed to have some common interests in certain legal matters that mostly sounded incredibly boring to you.

Steve stayed within your orbit and even when you were in the kitchen finalizing a few things with Claire, you caught him looking your way. Why did that make your heart beat so fast?

You sat at his side for dinner and when everyone was going around sharing what they were thankful for, Steve’s hand found your knee under the table. When you said you were thankful for all the people in your life (and your dog, of course), Steve gave you a delicate squeeze and rubbed his thumb against your thigh.

After dinner, he found you in the kitchen.

“You know, Bucky was bragging all night about your cookies,” Steve saddled up beside you as you leaned against the kitchen counter, while you nibbled at the last piece of apple pie. Steve grabbed a spare fork and joined you. “They ain’t got nothing on this pie.”

You smiled. “Glad you liked it.”

“Apple is my favourite,” Steve replied, licking his lip after cleaning off his fork. “Ma makes a good one but I think she has some competition.”

“That seems like really high praise,” you laughed, leaning against the counter. Steve mirrored you, resting his hand behind your back. It was subtle, maybe even barely noticeable, but he very slowly started to trace circles against the soft fabric of your dress. You were melting. “I’m really glad you came. Hopefully it wasn’t too painful for you.”

He tipped his head to look at you. “We will have to thank Maria for inviting me.”

When Steve politely offered you a ride home, you couldn’t say no. Since you were both heading towards the same area of Brooklyn, it made a lot more sense than taking the subway. As you were leaving, Clarie, Maria and Wanda all gave you the same friendly judgemental look. You accepted that as approval for your actions, departing with a small smile and Steve’s hand at your back.

In typical Steve fashion, he walked you inside and to your apartment door. And then he even happily joined as you took Hercules outside for some air.

Then, well, the night was over. Steve had come to dinner, Steve had brought you home. What else was there to do?

“You can share those cookies with Bucky,” you said with a smile as you stood in the hallway, between Steve and your door. You were sending him home with the rest of the snickerdoodles. “Or keep them all to yourself.”

Steve smiled, raising his hand to brush it through his hair. God, that was sexy. Had that always been sexy? What was going on? Why were you feeling this way?

“Thank you again for letting me join you tonight,” he said slowly, then his feet shuffled forward half a step closer to you. “Hopefully your friends don’t hate me.”

You laughed, sliding your tongue across your lips. You watched his eyes dart down, watching carefully. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Steve..”

Then he leaned in, holding your hips with his hands, and pressed his lips… to your cheek. You tried not to deflate.

His palms lingered against you for a moment, then he pulled back. You couldn’t read his face.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

–

You texted him well after midnight.

You [1:12AM]: are you awake? S Rogers [1:12AM]: yes

Steve answered your call after the first ring. “Is everything okay?”

You couldn’t believe you had actually hit ‘call’ but something deep within you compelled you to. It was dark in your bedroom and you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. You had been restless in bed for over an hour as his face flashed through your mind. Steve with his broad shoulders. Steve with his lingering hands. The way his chain bounced on his chest, how he growled when he came…

Just moments ago you had reached into your bedside table for your little vibrating toy. It wasn’t the first time you had put it to use thinking about Steve. But this time, you were imagining him tearing off that knit polo, the lingering smell of his aftershave, his weight on you.

If you couldn’t feel him, maybe you could hear him.

“I’m fine..” You said slowly. “Are you at home?” It occurred to you he might have gone directly to Shield after he dropped you off.

Your name left his lips, drawing your attention back to the call. “I’m home. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“What’s wrong is..” You tried to steady your breathing. Your voice dropped down. “.. you’re not in bed beside me.”

Silence. Then, you heard his breath hitch. “Baby..”

“I can’t..” You were whining into the phone. “I want to come, Steve. Will you help me? Please?.”

He chuckled, lowering his voice. “I can’t say no to that request, sweetheart. Tell me - what are you doing? You using that toy?”

“Uh huh,” you preened back. You had been sliding it across your skin, teasing yourself for as long as you could. “I’ve been thinking about you, Stevie. You and me.”

“Me too, baby. Fuck.” You could hear more shuffling on his side. Christ. Was he touching himself too? “Listen to me, I’m going to help you. Bet you’re already wet, aren’t you?”

You just whined in response.

“Turn that toy up a notch, baby. Circle your clit real slow. And what about your nipples? God, if I was there–”

“Tell me, please. If you were here..”

Half an hour later, as your laboured breathing settled after two quivering orgasms, Steve wished you goodnight and sweet dreams.

–––

Given it was the night before Thanksgiving, your boss has been flexible when you had to dash out early. The frantic call from Kate at the dog daycare had been surprising, but thankfully your heart rate steadied out when you learned that Hercules was okay. They hadn’t spared any other details, but politely asked owners to come collect their dogs earlier than usual.

Truthfully, you had barely been functional at work all week anyway. Sure, you went through the motions and got your tasks done but before a long weekend, most people were half-assing their responsibilities anyway. And your mind was still racing after Friendsgiving dinner and the phone call with Steve and… Steve.

Fuck.

You were one of the last to arrive at the daycare, patiently waiting in line to check Hercules out. Once you had him, leash in hand, you turned to leave. Then you spotted Natasha and Yelena chatting quietly to the side of the room, and, well, you couldn’t help but follow your gut.

You saw Yelena there quite often, but Natasha was a rare sighting. Ever since your conversation with Steve after the whole warehouse incident, something had been pricking at the back of your mind.

“..Natasha barely talked to me for weeks after that night..”

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the sisters. Luckily, it seemed like their conversation had come to an end anyway as Yelena rushed past you with a hurried hello, then joined Kate somewhere behind the scenes. Nataha remained planted where she stood, scanning over her phone. She tipped her head up as you approached.

“Hey,” you started out slowly, offering a reluctant smile.

Nat crouched briefly, greeting Hercules with a few head scratches before she met your gaze again. “How are you?”

“I was wondering if.. you had like two minutes to chat?” You asked, eyes closed tight as you anticipated her answer. You weren’t sure what it was about Natasha, but she intimated you immensely. You weren’t scared of her but something made you want to impress her.

Natasha looked at her phone again, eyes narrowed, then back to you. “I can give you five.” With a nod of her head, you followed her behind the front desk and into the small staff kitchen area opposite the main daycare space.

While Natasha dropped onto one of the well worn couches, quickly joined by Hercules as you let go of his leash, you couldn’t steady yourself. All at once, your burning questions and thoughts swirled around in your mind. Then, you took a deep breath and opened your mouth.

“Steve told me a few weeks ago, that when we broke up.. he said you stopped talking to him for a while. I wanted to ask you why..” You raised a shoulder up to shrug, then watched Natasha from across the room.

After a few beats, she let out a quiet laugh. Then, she leaned forward on the couch, elbow resting on her knees, and she stared at you. “Can I be frank with you?”

You swallowed, then found a chair to sit on near a small table. “I’d rather you be Natasha..” When that clearly shielded attempt at humour landed no response, you cleared your throat and nodded. “Yes, please.”

Natasha sighed. “Steve trusts me and when he asks me for advice, I don’t sugar coat it. Dating Steve is not an easy task and your wellbeing is his top priority. So I get why he made his decision. But I did firmly advise him not to be an asshole about it. It was going to hurt you either way, but it was up to him to control the delivery.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, he did a terrible job.” It didn’t sting as much anymore – really. Given how much your friendship or whatever had evolved with him now, the words didn’t echo through your mind like they used to. You understood why he had made his choices and you could see his remorse in every interaction you’ve had since. Of course, it wasn’t possible to erase what had happened but you and Steve both looked back at it differently now.

Natasha relaxed again, pressing her back into the couch. “I have known Steve for a long time and I have rarely seen him act as selfishly as he did. You deserved better than a breakup over a phone call. Jesus, when he told me what he said – I should have gut punched him. In an attempt to protect you, he fucked up something good for you both. It’s bullshit and embarrassing.” Another sigh escaped her. “And, you didn’t hear this from me, but Steve has never let himself be happy. Because this world and this work can really leave you numb. He was so different once you came into his life, it was something else. So, I was rooting for you two.”

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm up with her last sentence. This seemed like something rare, a secret revealed from someone prone to privacy.

“I see why he made his self sacrifice with you. It is classic Steve, if he cares about something, he cares deeply and shows it.” She pinned you with a stare, giving you another once over. “Here’s the thing. You get to decide if you want to forgive him but if you look back over everything – every single moment with Steve – was there a pattern that makes forgiveness worth it?” Her phone, which had been resting on the couch beside her leg, started to vibrate. “Shit. I’ve gotta take this.”

Natasha stepped away briefly, keeping her tone hushed.

Christ, you probably need a therapist to start unpacking everything that Natasha had just presented. Was there a pattern?

Yes.

Every single action from Steve since the beginning had been, well, selfless. He was constantly putting your needs above everything else. The day you saved him outside the restaurant, he took you to the one person he trusted the most for care. When you called him in distress during your apartment break in, he didn’t hesitate to come help you.

He picked up on your subtleties, your fears and concerns. He moved you to a safer apartment, he protected you from unsavoury people, he pleaded for your understanding, he always left you feeling satisfied. More importantly, he let himself be himself around you. You loved seeing the personal, soft side of Steve. You.. you loved Steve. And maybe it was time to take the leap of faith again - because you missed him when he wasn’t around.

Fuck.

Before your logical brain could catch up and decide what to do with this revelation, Natasha was standing in front of you again. Her eyes were hiding something.

You held your breath when she finally spoke.

“So, speaking of Steve…”

–––

Ever since that night, at the abandoned warehouse, on that rooftop.. Steve had been on edge. More than before. You were constantly on his mind, and despite his efforts to ensure you were safe, he couldn’t settle.

Well, until he got to hear your voice every night. That… that started to mean more to him than he could explain. It was different this time around - the slow build to flirting, wrapped underneath a foundation of familiarity.

But it felt like that spark from before had returned, though he couldn’t act on it.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Bucky had been his voice of reason through all of the confusing feelings. He kept Steve grounded in reality - that the ball was in your court only, forever. If you were ever going to humour Steve again, it was your choice, at your pace. And maybe it would never happen. Bucky had reminded Steve more than once.

Every agonizing decision Steve was making lately had you at the forefront. Maybe it wouldn’t end up how he wanted it, but if you were safe and secure and happy, nothing else mattered.

Though it had been completely irrational for Steve to make the crew rush to your apartment on a Friday night, the precautionary gamble ended up paying off. Not only were you perfectly safe, but Steve had somehow managed to end up with an invitation to dinner with your friends.

And dinner had gone surprisingly well too. The moments with you and in your world, away from his own, had been so calming. A reminder that life existed outside of the seedy underbelly, where friendly conversation and good food were the only reason why people got together. God, he had enjoyed every minute of it. But more than anything, he was happy to be at your side.

Leaving your doorway that night with just a simple kiss on the cheek had been hard for him to do. But everything needed to go at your pace. If that meant an inappropriate late night phone call, he’d help you out, too.

He was fucked.

Admittedly, the past few days had been a welcome distraction following Saturday night. Some events in his business life ended up escalating way quicker than Steve had anticipated - which largely meant ignoring other priorities (and thoughts of you) to assist Bucky with his latest project - the dog fighting ring investigation.

Steve had kept Rhodes in the loop about their plan, much to the former DA’s dismay. Steve had made it his own personal mission to take down this underground operation and he promised Rhodes the public credit. But Steve needed the NYPD to turn a blind eye to their plan.

The ambush took place that Wednesday afternoon, with Bucky, Steve, Sam and a few additional men breaking into an abandoned facility in north Queens and going in with plenty of ammunition. They recovered nearly a dozen dogs, most of which immediately went to a veterinary hospital to be checked out. The pups who didn’t need overnight care were to be transferred to Kate’s facility for the weekend, with the costs covered by Steve.

But, after all was said and done, not everyone had left unscathed. Four of the people organizing the dog fighting were sent to a hospital with some severe wounds thanks to Bucky. And Steve, out of all people, had ended up with a pretty dramatic gash in his left arm from one of the dogs. He didn’t blame the poor animal for the situation, of course. But medical attention was necessary.

That was how he ended up at his mom’s clinic - once again. Sarah Rogers had, of course, greeted him warmly then delivered a firm lecture to him about his personal safety.

Just as Sarah was finishing up cleaning his arm and applying a few temporary sutures to the area, there was a small commotion happening somewhere beyond their room at the entrance.

Steve didn’t hesitate to rush towards the lobby area, finding the intake nurse addressing someone at the door. That’s when he saw who that someone was - you.

Maybe he had lost more blood than he thought, but damn. With the late afternoon sunset streaming in, backlighting you perfectly, it looked like a halo of light. A perfect ring of light framing you, like an angel - as you desperately asked the front desk nurse about Steve, where he was, if he was okay.

The nurse was caught in a repetitive loop, explaining that she couldn’t say who was at the clinic and insisting that dogs weren’t allowed in the building and you needed to leave and –

Steve took a few steps forward, calling out your name.

Sarah hurried behind the desk and calmed down the girl who sat there, quietly pulling her to the side to leave Steve alone. With you.

“Steve!” You blinked twice and rushed towards him, stopping yourself before you crashed into his chest. “Natasha told me you were here and.. What happened?” You reached out and carefully grabbed his arm, where fresh gauze covered the bite.

Steve answered quickly, removing your hand from his arm and raising it up to kiss the back. “It looks worse than it is, I promise.”

You smiled at him and nodded. “Okay. Good.” Then you took a deep breath. “And all the dogs - they’re safe?”

“Yes, sweetheart. All receiving the care and rest they deserve.” Before Steve realized what was happening, you were throwing your arms around him. He whispered your name softly, rubbing a hand down your back.

You pulled back and met his soft gaze. “Steve..” You scanned over him again, as if double checking what he said was true. Aside from the bandaging on his arm, Steve truthfully was unharmed. His emotions had been a rollercoaster but for some reason, seeing you had helped settle most of that.

His hand moved and cradled your jaw for just a moment, before brushing against your cheek. “Did you rush all the way here because you were worried about me?”

Your eyes widened before you shook your head. “What? No. I’m not.. It was Hercules, actually, who wanted to make sure all the dogs were okay.”

Steve couldn’t hold back his grin. “Right.”

“We-” You motioned your head towards Hercules, who was sitting patiently nearby - “weren’t sure what Natasha meant when she said you were injured and..” A long slow breath escaped you. “I just needed to see you.”

Steve could understand your panic, given how he had dramatically rushed to your apartment building over the weekend. Those parallels weren’t lost on him. It had to mean something, right? It all had to mean something.

Your reunion was interrupted by Steve’s ringing phone, where he cursed under his breath before moving his hands from you. “I’ve gotta take this, I’m sorry.”

While Steve took his call from Bucky, you were quickly greeted by an excited Sarah, who grabbed your hand and pulled you away to catch up.

–––

Following your reunion at the clinic, Steve had one of his hands on you. Behind your back, holding your hand, his own hand on your knee on the drive back. He only let go briefly to let you hug Sarah goodbye, after you accepted her invitation to Thanksgiving dinner the next day.

Now, back at your apartment, all you could think about was what was Steve, Steve, Steve. His phone had buzzed with another call from Bucky the moment you stepped inside. He apologized before answering, and you could have sworn you heard him cursing his friend out.

You refreshed Hercules water and food bowls then went into your bedroom, trying to tidy the place up. When you went to pull your blinds down, you couldn’t help but find yourself distracted by the city. Although your view wasn’t as impressive as Steve’s penthouse, you could see into the Brooklyn streets below. At the right angle, you could even see the final orange glow of the sunset through some of the buildings.

It had proved to be a big enough distraction because you didn’t even hear Steve end his call or walk into the room behind you. Instead, you felt his hands on your shoulders, slowly wrapping around and pulling you against his chest. His lips brushed the top of your head.

“Everything good?” You murmured as his hands started to trail their way down your body.

“Mmhmm,” Steve replied quietly, dipping his head down, breathing hot against the side of your neck. “Is this okay?”

You closed your eyes. “Yes but..” It took everything in you to pause, but you turned around in his arms and did just that. “Wait.”

He immediately stopped what he was doing, removing his hands from you as he searched your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answered too quickly.

He said your name knowingly then repeated himself. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Okay, okay. I’m just going to say it. Steve, I want this again - with you. I want us to press reset but I’m really fucking scared.”

You watched Steve absorb your words. Telling the truth was something you knew you had to do, but you hoped Steve understood. He was still, but you could see his brain computing.

“And it’s not about the… rooftop thing. Although.. I definitely don’t think back to that night fondly.” You shook your head as you continued. “I’m scared you’re going to change your mind again. Because I don’t know if I can feel like that again. I’ve convinced myself that the good feelings outweigh that risk but..” Your voice cracked. “I’m scared.”

Steve grabbed your hands and turned you enough to help you sit on the bed. He crouched down in front of you, tracing his thumbs across your knees. “Sweetheart. Hurting you was the biggest regret of my life. I know my words can only mean so much but I want you to hear me.” You met his gaze and nodded. “I’m an idiot. An idiot who will do everything in his power to prove to you how much you mean to me. I can’t undo what I said and resetting doesn’t make it go away. But I love you and want to make this work for us if you’ll give me this chance.”

You raised your hands and cradled his face. “That was quite the speech.”

He smirked. “I mean it, baby. Every word.”

“Okay.” You took in another breath then let it out slowly.

“Okay?” Steve asked.

“Okay, let’s reset.” Your hands left his cheeks, carding through his hair as your lips crashed into his. Kissing Steve didn’t feel like going back to the beginning though - it felt like picking up where you left off.

Steve didn’t waste a moment responding, hands traveling to the back of your neck to steady you as he pushed you down on the bed. Everything happening now, in that moment, was all that mattered to you both. Steve wanted you, you wanted him. Nothing else needed to make sense.

Your hands roamed down Steve’s torso as he hovered over you, pulling at his shirt and trying to make quick work of the buttons. Steve shed his shirt without his lips leaving you, pressing hot wet kisses against your cheek, down towards your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, gasping when his teeth grazed your shoulder.

“Less clothes,” he whined out, removing himself from you long enough for your top to come off. He stood off the bed briefly to slip out of his pants, while you shimmied out of your jeans. You were left in just your underwear, some very unsexy unmatched set.

But lord, the way Steve looked at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said firmly, crawling back over you on the bed. He braced himself above you again, tracing a finger up your jaw to tip your chin up.

You felt your cheeks grow warm. “Steve..”

‘“I’m sorry if what I said… on that phone call - if it ever made you doubt how fucking beautiful you are.” He dipped his head down and met your lips again, softer this time. “I love you, the shape of your body..” He trailed his kisses down you again, towards your chest. “Your heart..” His hands moved down the same way, tracing gently across your chest, along your soft stomach, on top of every single piece of you that you didn’t always love. “I love all of you.”

“Steve,” you whimpered under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please don’t make me cry.” You choked out a laugh, tipping your head back to mind your happy tears. When you looked back, he was staring at you with a lovestruck smile again. “Thank you. I love you too.”

He grinned, once again leaning down to press his lips to your skin. This time, it was just above your belly button. “It’s okay to cry, sweetheart. But how about I make you come instead?”

How could you argue with that?

Steve surveyed your form intently as he got back to work, hands and lips peppering against your skin. He slid his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs. You helped to kick them away, just as Steve was licking his lips.

His eyes flicked to you. “Lay back, baby. Get comfortable.”

You were quick to shift on the bed, into your pillows. Just as you rested your head back, you felt the bed sink slightly just between your legs. Then the soft kisses that had been decorating your skin were inside your thighs. And then–

You let out a whimper when his mouth met your center. You knew you were already wet, but when Steve growled against your clit and slid a finger into you, it felt like a flood.

“Oh my g-god, Steve.” With one hand, you grasped at his hair. The other dragged across your chest, pulling your own bra down to grab your nipples. “Yes, yes, please.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, breathless as Steve continued stroking, suctioning against your clit as your moans grew louder. When another finger entered you, crooked inside in search of just the right spot, you nearly combusted. And when you did careen over the edge just moments later, Steve didn’t slow down.

In a daze you sat up slightly to watch him work. He was drowning in you, his own hips grinding against the bed as he consumed you. Jesus fucking Christ - that was hot. Steve was hot. This - this was hot.

“Steve,” you called for him as his mouth finally slowed down, returning to slow kisses against the inside of your thighs again. He looked up and met your eyes, drunk with love and contentment. “I need to feel you - please.”

“Okay, baby,” he replied with a soft smile. “Let me take care of you.” He shucked off his boxers and crawled up the bed again, hovering above you once more.

You raked your hands over his chest when he was close enough, gripping his hips as you pulled him down and kissed him. Your own taste lingered on his lips and tongue as he breathed into you.

“You ready?” He asked softly, reaching between your waists to position himself.

“Mmhmm,” you whispered, pressing another kiss against him. “Please.”

“Fuck,” Steve cursed out, eyes closing as he pushed himself in. God, you fit together so well. Once he felt comfortable, watching you for the right signs of pleasure, he moved out slowly before finding a rhythm.

“Steve, I missed you so much..” You wrapped your hands around his neck, in an attempt to keep him as close to you as possible. With one hand, he held one of your legs up, just enough to elicit better friction. And with the other, he cradled the back of your neck. “Missed this - this stretch..”

You could feel him smiling as he kissed you again. His hips sped up, adding just enough extra pressure that you could really feel him. You’d feel him tomorrow, too.

“My girl,” he said breathlessly against your neck. “Always. Mine..” His mouth ravaged your neck and shoulders. “Want this forever.. Want you forever..” He slowed down momentarily. “Wanna fill you up, baby.”

“Yes, yes please..” you said in return, scratching across his back with your hands as you braced yourself. A low growl escaped him as he came. He tensed up as he finished, weight heavy on top of you as you both caught your breaths.

As his head rested near yours, his lips pressed against your earlobe. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I love you.”

You were still laying in a daze when Steve returned to you in the bed after cleaning up, placing a cup of tea on the bedside table closest to you. His own matching cup rested in his hands. You sat up, pulling up the sheet with you as you rested against the headboard.

Shifting slightly, you pivoted to look at him. “I really missed you.”

He grinned. “So you said.”

“No, not just that.” You gave his shoulder a small nudge, careful not to jostle his tea. “I just like being around you.”

His smile softened. “Me too.” He drew in a long breath and moved his cup to the side table before continuing. He said your name, drawing your gaze to his. “Resetting doesn’t make who I am go away.”

You gulped. “I know.” He seemed to be searching for what to say next, so you continued instead. “I can’t pretend to understand why you do what you do. And I don’t decide what is right and wrong. Neither of us do.” You took a deep breath. “But I want to be with you. That makes me feel a little bit crazy but maybe that’s part of being in love.”

Steve laughed. “You’re in love, huh.”

Rolling your eyes, you fell into his side. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“And I love you, baby.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, against his heart. He kissed your forehead. “I’m going to keep my professional life at bay. I won’t be able to stop it from bleeding into this but I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I take that privilege seriously.” You felt him squeeze you a bit tighter. “Though I do think there are some precautions we can take, too.”

“We?” You pulled back slightly and watched him.

“I’m going to get you something for your keys and pepper spray for your bag. How would you feel about taking a self-defense class?”

You scrunched up your face as you considered. “It has been on my to-do list for a long time.” Even without a high profile partner like Steve, knowing you feel prepared in times of danger was something you knew was important. You probably should have prioritized it sooner, really.

“Natasha teaches a class, actually. At her gym.”

“Natasha has a gym?” You nodded. “Yeah, okay. I could do that. Will you take the class with me?”

Steve laughed again. “I don’t need self-defense training, sweetheart.”

“But then we can practice together. C’mon, pleeease.”

Steve groaned, but it was evident very quickly he’d do anything you asked. So, he nodded. “Fine.”

You paused. “You’re not going to make me carry a gun, are you?”

“First of all, I’d never make you do anything.” He sat up a bit straighter, face stern. “And no, absolutely not. I hope you are never in a position where that kind of defense is required.”

You settled against him again. Big conversations like this were expected and you knew it made sense to feel a bit scared still. But, that wasn’t the feeling lingering in your stomach anymore. No, it was more like… safety, contentment, familiarity.

It was something akin to being home.

–––

Shield closed down on Christmas Eve and reopened on New Years Eve, so you weren’t sure why Steve needed to check in there in the middle of the holiday week. Sure, his office was upstairs but he had vowed to do as little work as possible over your days off together. And yet, after a lovely dinner together, he apologetically announced there was something there he needed to check in on.

You had shared a few delicious plates at May’s, a small Italian place in Queens. Steve had given you a history of the restaurant on your way - it was one of the first properties he invested in years ago so it was clearly a special place. When you arrived, the server had immediately showed you to a more intimate table tucked away in the back corner.

Wine and food arrived at the table without a menu or many words exchanged between the server and Steve. After you had finished eating - polishing off one of the best tiramisus you had ever tasted - the restaurant owner, May, came out to say hello.

When you left without mentioning a bill, you had a feeling that the business Steve did with May extended beyond just being a landlord. You didn’t ask any questions though.

Over the last month with Steve, the questionable moments were quite rare. He really did maintain the boundary between his personal life and everything else, with only a bit of a crossover. You had joined him at the club a few times - because you realized dating the club owner eliminated all the awful things you hated about going out. You never had to wait for entrance or for a drink ever again. Your friends especially liked the free drinks and safe rides home, too.

That was only a fringe benefit of being with Steve though. What really stood out to you was just Steve. Getting to know each other all over again had been exciting and fulfilling, in many ways.

You kept up your nightly phone calls. Well, when you weren’t crashing at his or him dropping into your bed, you kept up the calls. You had spent Thanksgiving with him at Sarah’s and were greeted with boxes of childhood photos to fawn over. For Christmas, you, Steve and Sarah had all travelled up to Albany to spend the day cooking and celebrating with your mom.

Slowly, it seemed your worlds would be blending together. And you weren’t really sure what the future was going to hold and how that might transpire, but you decided it was worth seeing what could happen. Because being with Steve seemed worth it.

“I promise this won’t take too long,” Steve’s voice broke you from your thoughts, as he parked his car near the back exit of the club. It was a small lot reserved for Steve and Shield staff members only, currently only occupied by one other black car. You weren’t sure who that belonged to. Maybe Natasha was there doing inventory of the bar before New Years.

You gave him a smile from the passenger seat, leaning over to meet his lips for a kiss. “Remember that we have a big day of sleeping in without an alarm tomorrow so..” He smirked. “Take all the time you need.”

Steve bounded out of the car and raced around to help you out, extending his hand to ensure you stepped safely onto the asphalt. You had dressed up for dinner, picking out your favourite black dress paired with some heels that didn’t cause you too much pain to walk in. Steve had grinned like a schoolboy when he picked you up, which made you feel, well, beautiful. You had paired the dress with your Christmas gift from him - a stunning gold and diamond pendant, shaped like a wing. A matching wing now sat with the chain on his neck, too.

You clutched Steve’s hand as you headed through the backdoor of the club. From the dark back hallway, you could have sworn you could hear music playing somewhere. Maybe it was just the memory of whatever song was just playing in Steve’s car.

As you twisted down the hallway, past the back office, storage rooms, and the back stairs up towards the second floor, the music grew a bit louder. You definitely heard music. You tried to ask Steve what was going on but he just squeezed your hand, threw a mischievous grin over his shoulder and carried on.

When you finally made it to the main club area, it was still pitch black. The music kept playing. You grasped both of Steve’s hands in a panic and by the time you had formed a sentence to ask a worried question, the lights powered on.

But it wasn’t the regular industrial overhead lights. Nor was it the multicoloured pot lights that danced around to match the beat of the club music. No, this was something else.

Above you, the multicoloured lights were steady and emitting just a soft blue tone. Across the open railings above, partitioning off the downstairs area from the VIPs upstairs, various strands of string lights were hung and illuminated. It made the club area feel almost intimate.

You dropped Steve’s hands and turned around, speechless as you took it all in. On the end of the bar, you spotted a bottle of champagne sitting on ice with two matching glasses waiting. The music playing above you switched to something softer. An old song crackled through the speakers.

You turned back to Steve, who was gazing at you.

He stepped towards you, hand extended. “Dance with me, sweetheart?”

How could you say no to that request?

Steve helped you take off your coat and discarded his own. Then he pulled you towards the very center of the room, under a now spinning disco ball that splashed flickers of light around the space.

“Steve,” you started, resting your head against his chest. One of his palms cradled the small of your back while the other grasped your hand, hovering in the air as he led you in slow circles.. “Did you do this all just for me?”

He chuckled. You could feel it rumble through him. “Bucky helped me out.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand in response. You didn’t know what to say.

And maybe that was okay, because at that moment, it was just you and Steve. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I promise I’ll always dance with you.”

FIN

-----

Author's Note: Thank you again so much for reading! I have a few ideas for additional one shots in this AU, including a smutty little threesome fic and a small story with Bucky and a girl from the club. if you have any questions or want to know more about this universe or Steve and Reader, please please drop into my inbox or the comments!! love you all!!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #steve rogers x you #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #story: sink into me #simmerandwrite #simmerandcry

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ash5monster01 · 4 months

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Learning to Love Part 8

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral, p in v, language, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, mdni!!

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 4.6k

Part 7 ←→ Part 9

Masterlist

Rafe has no clue why he agreed to date other people and end this agreement with you, especially when you open your front door to reveal you in the sexiest black dress he’s ever seen. His mouth waters at the deep neckline of the dress, revealing cleavage to him he hadn’t seen in a while. The fabric hangs off your shoulders and goes all the way down to just below your knees. The black wedges you wear pair perfectly and your hair is styled half up and half down, with a black bow holding it together. Definitely Mila’s touch. It takes a moment for words to reach his brain and quickly is saved by the flash of a camera in the doorway that has both of you breaking eye contact and looking to the girl.

“What? I’m capturing memories!” Mila defends which has you giggling and Rafe shaking his head.

“I opened the door, you could have at least made us pose” you tell her and she shakes her head as she clicks a few buttons on the camera.

“Posing doesn’t capture the look he was just giving you. If I hadn’t made my presence known he would’ve ravished you right here!” Mila tells you and the back of your neck burns in embarrassment as you turn to Rafe who is also flushed red due to Mila’s words.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not right here” Rafe says as he enters the home, trying to divert the conversation. Yet the topic doesn’t go dismissed because Mila has now handed you the camera and in it is Rafe looking at you like he loved you for real. You wished it was.

“It’s great Mila” you tell her with a smile that you hope is hiding the heartbroken look in your eyes because pretty soon he won’t be around to look at you like that anymore.

“Gonna need that to go next to the one on my desk” Rafe says and your heart flutters for a moment.

“I’ll make sure to get you both a copy” Mila says with a grin as she tucks the camera back into her arms. You smile at her before turning to Rafe who looks so handsome in the black suit he wears.

“You ready to go?” you ask, trying not to let the sadness creep in. Rafe smiles as his hand laces with your own and his free one brushes some hair behind your ear.

“As I’ll ever be” he tells you and you smile as you both start for the door.

“Have fun, don’t stay up too late, and if we decide to have spontaneous sleepovers what do we do?” Mila calls out after you both and you grin.

“We text Mila!” you and Rafe both yell back simultaneously and you hear her satisfied ‘hmph’ as you both exit the small home. Rafe laughs as he leads you to his truck, helping you inside, and doing everything in his power to keep his eyes off of your ass.

“She’s something else” you say as he joins you in the car and Rafe laughs as he puts the truck in gear and reaches over for your hand.

“At least she cares” he tells you with a smile and you nod as you both set off down the road and in the direction of another fancy work party that could more than likely be your last.

When you arrive you can’t help but notice all the pretty women that strut into the event floor, wearing the prettiest dresses, and wearing their makeup done to perfection. Not only are they girls you can now compare yourself too but they are girls Rafe could meet tonight and quite possibly fall in love with. The idea of that was heartbreaking to you. You needed a drink.

“Hey, I’ve got to talk some shop quick do you want to wait for me, maybe find a place to sit?” Rafe quietly asked, his hand squeezing your own and sending butterflies through your stomach.

“Sure, I’m gonna make a pit stop at the bar” you tell him and he grins before swiftly kissing your cheek and rushing off to handle some business. You hate the way your heart clenches as his hand leaves your own but you choose to ignore it anyway and find yourself at the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, hands already busy working on another customers drink. A professional and you admired it. It took you years to perfect the working on autopilot.

“Whatever’s strongest, surprise me” you tell him and he nods as if he gets this response every day.

“Rough day?” a voice fills your ears beside you and you turn to see a shaggy haired brunette. His eyes are as green as emeralds and the freckles that scatter his nose tell you it isn’t often he finds himself in a suit. He’s handsome, gorgeous even, and someone you would’ve yearned to be with before Rafe.

“Try rough summer” you tell him and you’re surprised by the laugh that fills your ears. You’re even more surprised when he sits upon the barstool beside you.

“You remember when summer was carefree and just about fun? I miss that” he says, swirling his glass as the ice clinks inside. You smile as he takes a long sip.

“Do you remember just being carefree in general. Nothing mattered but having fun. I miss that” you tell him with a point as the bartender slides his concoction in front of you. You smile kindly as you grab the glass and take a long sip. The bartender waits for your approval which you grant after the strong liquid glides down your throat.

“That was impressive” the boy beside you says and you draw your eyebrows together in confusion as you look at him.

“How so?” you ask and he chuckles lightly.

“That’s Benny’s speciality drink. Strongest thing in here. I’ve seen guys bigger than me choke on that drink” he tells you and you can’t help the proud grin that crosses your face as he says this.

“Well I wish I could tell you it was just pure talent but I own a bar. Comes with the territory” you tell him and now he’s the one raising his eyebrows at you.

“Owns a bar? Then what the hell are you doing at a company party like this?” he asks you and you laugh, surprised how comfortable you’ve become with this boy in a matter of seconds.

“I’m with my-“ your eyes glance the the other side of the event center to see Rafe laughing with a pretty red head, her fingers curling around his wrist. “Rafe Cameron, I came as his date”

“The CEO, so you only run with the big dogs?” he asks as his eyes follow where yours are. He sees Rafe with the same girl and tries not to chuckle to himself knowing he was wasting his time with a girl like that when someone as pretty as you was over here.

“Something like that, we’ve been friends for a while. I figured I’d help him out” there isn’t any dishonesty to your words. Yes you aren’t telling him he was your boyfriend but for once you didn’t want to lie to every person in your life. For all you know Rafe had already chosen this red head over you. So you were allowed to have a light hearted conversation with an attractive man at the bar. Allowed to just feel normal for once.

“That’s nice of you, and at least the drinks are free” he tells you and you smile wide at him.

“Now I’ll drink to that” you say, lifting your drink which he easily clinks his own against before taking a drink.

“I’m Tanner, I’m in marketing and would rather be on a beach than here” he tells you, large hand reaching across the bar. You gladly put your own in it and give him a firm shake.

“I’m Y/N, I’m a bartender that’s looking forward to being the drunk one for once” you tell him which earns you another laugh, his hand leaving yours and instantly making you cold.

“The more we talk the more I have no idea why Cameron is over there instead of here with you” he says and you can’t stop the way your heart doubles in speed at his statement.

“Why’s that?” you ask, trying to hide the shake in your voice as one of the most gorgeous guys you’ve ever seen sits beside you and does his best attempt at flirting. You didn’t have to look to know washboard abs were hiding under that suit of his, you could already tell the way his biceps flexed beneath his suit jacket.

“Well, so far you’re the prettiest and funniest girl in this whole room and I have a feeling he knows that too” you weren’t entirely sure the last time an attractive man had actually called you pretty, butterflies erupted in your stomach but all at the same time your heart clenched because there was an underlying meaning to his words. Rafe already knew who you were and he still wasn’t willing to choose you.

“Then I guess it’s your lucky day” you say and he smiles wide at you, in awe of the confidence that you were mostly faking because if Rafe got to flirt with pretty girls you were allowed to flirt with the first good looking guy to show interest in you in a while.

“Not to be too forward but I’d really like to ask for your number now” he says and you giggle lightly before holding your hand out. He doesn’t hesitate to set his phone in it and you spot the golden retriever in his background. This guy is your dream guy so why the hell could you not stop thinking about Rafe as you type your number into his phone.

“If I don’t text back right away don’t take it to heart. I normally sleep till ten and work till 4am” you tell him, knowing your schedule was insane for most normal people.

“Noted” he tells you with a nod and before you can ask more about him an arm is wrapping around your shoulders and free hand waving down the bartender in front of you.

“Causing some trouble already?” Rafe’s familiar voice fills your senses and you chuckle nervously as the bartender hands Rafe his usual without even asking.

“You say that like it’s surprising” you say which causes Tanner to laugh beside you. “I’m also making friends, Rafe this is Tanner”

“Hey Tanner, nice to meet you” Rafe says, arm leaving your shoulders to shake the boys hand. If Rafe was being honest he wanted to crush it but he knew to be nice and not upset you.

“I was just getting to know your date here, been a long time since I’ve actually held decent conversation with a woman around here” Tanner says fondly and you hope Rafe doesn’t pick up on his underlying meaning to this comment.

“Exactly why I bring her around” Rafe says squeezing you to his side and you smile softly at Tanner, a bit embarrassed at the situation you were currently in.

“You’re lucky” Tanner says, eyes glancing to you because he wished he could stay with you the rest of night. “I better find some of my coworkers, you two have a good night”

“Yeah, it was so nice meeting you Tanner” you try to make your voice feign how much talking to him had meant to you. He smiles fondly at you, wearing a disappointed look to be leaving you behind.

“Have a good night” Rafe tells him and he smiles with a nod before turning away. “Look at you making friends”

“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t even trying” you tell him and he just smiles, reaching to tuck some hair behind your ears.

“I would, considering that’s how you ended up with me” this has you snorting a laugh which only makes him chuckle until he catches your eyes searching in the direction of where Tanner went. He realizes quickly you liked this boy. You were doing exactly what the both of you agreed to, finding someone else.

“Want to find a table?” you ask turning back just to see Rafe’s jaw clenched. It’s the first time you had ever really seen him angry, at least towards you.

“Was he flirting with you?” Rafe asks, trying to keep his voice calm. He had no right to be jealous, he knew that. Doesn’t mean it was going to stop how he felt though.

“Uh, yeah I guess” you mutter, confused and nervous about this reaction.

“You guess?” his voice is sharp and now you’re more confused then before.

“Well yeah, I gave him my number. It’s no big deal” but he’s removing his arm from around you and a searing pain flows through your chest.

“Fuck, look I know we agreed to this whole seeing other people thing but at my work? Are you trying to make me look like a fool?” his eyes are ablaze and his words are seething out past his lips, you’ve never seen him so worked up before and you instantly feel guilty. Tears burning at the back of your eyes.

“Well I’m sorry Rafe but it’s normally a one in a billion chance a guy like that is interested in a girl like me so forgive me for jumping at the opportunity!” you seethe right back and Rafe’s eyes instantly soften as he sees the tears rimming your own.

“It is not one in a billion” he whispers and you scoff, turning to brush away the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t fucking lie to me Rafe, I’d hope the guy dating me to prove a point would be at least decent enough to do that” you say chugging the rest of your drink, more desperate and in need of a buzz now.

“I’ve always thought you were attractive Y/N” he hisses in defense and you roll your eyes, waving your hand for another drink which the bartender quickly provides.

“Then the next time you want to prove to your friends you can date an ugly fat girl, pick a different one” you say grabbing the fresh drink and starting towards an open table without him. This night had its entirety of ups and downs and you were ready for it to be over. Rafe groaned and tugged at his hair before flagging for a fresh drink himself.

Once the drink was in his hands he was rushing over to where you sat, arms crossed and straw dancing across your lips. No way you weren’t at least buzzed right now but he deserved this cold behavior for being a jealous asshole. He knew that but he had always struggled with controlling his anger. You were no exception considering he never planned on breaking the very rule you set. Falling in love with you. So he knew it was best to just sit next to you calmly and quietly while he waited for you to like him again. You didn’t speak until your drink was empty again.

“Can you get me a new one?” you ask setting the empty glass in front of him and he nodded, standing to go back to the bar that he figured he’d be visiting a lot tonight.

Rafe was correct oh how much he’d be visiting the bar because he could barely see straight and the only thing he could hear was your soft giggles. He knew you were still mad but you were definitely just as drunk as him and you always giggled when you were drunk. He knew you’d rather die then stay the night with him but there was no other way he could get you home safely which is why he checks you both into a room at the hotel and shoots Mila a text letting her know.

“I’m calling an uber” you pout as he guides you towards the elevator, you stumbling slightly.

“Yeah that’s not happening, you get alone in a car with some creep” he tells you, pressing a button to close the elevator doors.

“I’m alone in an elevator with some creep right now” you tell him, arms crossing over your chest and he gulps at the way your breasts push together and spill out of your dress a little more.

“At least I’m a creep you trust” he says taking a step towards you, hands gripping softly at the doughy flesh of your hips. You let out a small squeak as you realize even as drunk as you are that Rafe is checking you out.

“You were mean to me tonight” you pout and he finally lifts his eyes from your chest and pulls you flush against him, hands snaking around your waist. Either you’re crazy or he’s half hard and pressing against your stomach.

“Fuck baby, I know. I just got so jealous” the small gasp that leaves your throat doesn’t go unnoticed and finally you see the darkness of lust in his eyes as he roams your body again. “Just want you all to myself”

“Yeah?” you whisper, barely able to be heard and your heart stops as his hands slide down and squeeze your ass through your dress.

“Yeah doll, you’re all mine” and you don’t even have a moment to comprehend a thought let alone remember you’re mad at him as his mouth meets your own. You react quickly, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his mouth impossibly closer towards your own. His tongue grazes your own and you can’t help the moan you let out that he muffles with his own mouth. If he wasn’t hard before he definitely was now.

The elevator doors ding open and Rafe pulls away, hand locking on your own as he drags you down the hallway and to your room. You’re giggling again as he shuts you both inside, none of the lights on, but a glow from the city below you shining through the windows. Your giggles stop when Rafe presses against your body again, hands grabbing the zipper of your dress and slowly pulling it down. You know you should be freaking out right now, knowing Rafe let alone anyone had never seen you truly naked. Yet with the alcohol, the look in his eyes, and how badly you want this, you make no movement to stop him. The dress falls and pools around your ankles, leaving you in the bra and thong Mila had picked out for you. You’re nervous for only a split second until Rafe is groaning out loud.

“Baby, please tell me you wore this for me and not that asshole from the bar” you’re not responsible for the way his words make heat pool at your core. You actually don’t think you’ve ever been this aroused due to fear of rejection but you’re drunk mind and the praise from Rafe has taken that fear away. You never thought there’d be a day.

“For you, with encouragement from Mila” and this answer has his lips back on yours in an instant. You whimper as his hand reaches and gropes your breast over your bra. It’s not long until you’re whining in his mouth and reaching for the clasp. Rafe realizes and moves your hand away, reaching for it himself and removing it with ease.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on these” Rafe says and you whine as he lets the bra fall to the floor between you both. You watch as he takes in the sight of your bare chest before his hands reach out and give them a squeeze. It’s as if one touch turned him into a mad man and he’s got a mouth around your nipple in a second, his hand pinching the other.

“Rafe, of my God” your fingers curl into his hair as he sucks on each breast, relishing in the soft feeling of them. You’re dripping everywhere and Rafe’s eagerness only excites you more.

Rafe moves to sit on the edge of the bed, keeping your breast in his mouth as he pulls you along. You gasp as his fingers curl into the sides of your thong and starts to lower it. You shimmy along, speeding up the process until they also meet the floor. Once they’re off Rafe pulls back to take a quick look at you. “Wow”

“Rafe?” you’re not sure what you’re even asking for, you just know he needs to do something.

“You’re so perfect, gonna show you that you’re mine and only mine” he says standing, groaning at the way your breast rub across the front of his shirt as he drops his suit jacket from his shoulders.

Once it’s off he’s turning you around and easing you onto the bed. You sit pretty and quiet for him as his hands work slowly at the buttons of his shirt and he drinks your naked form in. You never once thought you’d be comfortable naked in front of someone, especially a fully clothed man. Yet here you were, waiting impatiently for him to remove his clothes so you could gawk at him like he was you. He’s taking to long for your liking though which causes you to reach out and grab the button of his slacks.

“Damnit, Y/N” he hisses as you smile at him innocently, acting as if you accidentally brushing against the bulge in his pants wasn’t on purpose.

You finally get them unbuttoned and the zipper pulled down, your fingers curl into the hem, tugging them desperately. Rafe is trying to calm down, not wanting to cum in his pants before he at least gets to taste you. Once his shirt is fully removed he helps you remove his pants and boxers all at once. You’re shocked at his fully hard member standing proudly and you realize it’s just for you. You exactly as you are, big stomach, wide thighs, stretch marks, and all. He was still just as aroused for you. Which explains why you have your hand wrapped around him without a thought which is something you’ve never done before.

“Okay, okay, you’re tryna kill me” Rafe chuckles as he eases you away and lays you down on the mattress.

“I have no idea what you mean” you tell him and he just shakes his head at you before dropping down to his knees. He slowly eases your legs open and he can tell you’re shy. Yet when he sees how wet you are he has no problem forcing you as wide open for him as possible. Your body shudders as his fingers slowly glides through your folds, collecting slick on his finger. You watch as he reaches it to his mouth and sucks his finger clean. If you weren’t wet before you definitely were now.

“Damn baby, you taste so good” and you don’t realize it until his mouth is on you, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing your entrance with a finger. Your thighs instantly clench around his head which makes him moan against you. The sensation is enough to have you gripping the sheets, clenching as his tongue laps through your pussy and eats you for all you were worth. You were sure you were crushing his head but Rafe didn’t care, he would gladly be suffocated by you.

He knows you’re close by the way your legs start to tremble so he slowly pushes a finger inside, shocked by how easily you sucked his fingers in. Which is why he doesn’t hesitate to add a second or third, curling them inside. In seconds you’re clamping down on them, twitching from the orgasm he gave you. He slowly pumps his fingers into you, easing you through your finish before removing his mouth and grinning up at you. He’s so hard it hurts but he doesn’t have time to care because this is all he has wanted the entire time of knowing you. Your full trust.

“Rafe, please. I need you inside of me” you tell him when you spot his grinning face and he smiles, removing his fingers which has you hissing. He slowly climbs up your form and helps you readjust on the bed. He reaches for the condom in his wallet, struggling to get his hands to work because yours are on him again, thumb brushing across the precum on his tip.

“You’re so perfect, just the way you are” your heart soars over his words and you quickly pull him down and into a kiss as he pulls on the condom. You continue to kiss him, tongue searching his mouth desperately as he lines up at your entrance. You whimper against his lips as his tip runs through your folds and bumps against your sensitive clit.

“You ready?” he asks pulling away from your mouth and you eagerly nod as he starts to push himself in, head tipping back at how tight you are. It takes only a few moments until he’s flush against you and reaching spots you or anyone else never has before.

“Please do something Rafe” you whine and he takes this as permission to pull out just slightly before pushing back into you. The encouraging moan you let out causes him to find a fast pace. Pretty soon he’s pumping in and out of you, watching as you writhe beneath him and cry out. He’s not going to last long so he reaches for your clit and begins to rub it as fast as he can. His hips begin to stutter when you clench around him, so he moves his hand fast and soon enough you’re squeezing him for all he’s worth and trembling into the mattress. He watches as your eyes roll back into your head and it only takes a few more pumps before he’s finishing and collapsing down on top of you. Neither of you make any effort to move, his dick still nestled tightly inside of you.

“Holy shit” he mutters into your neck, relishing in the feeling of your bare chest pressed against his own and how you breathe unevenly against him from how worn out you were. He had pulled two orgasm from you. He was eager to see if he could get anymore.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking” you say and he chuckles as he sits up, slowly pulling out of you that has you both hissing through your teeth. You wonder how you’re still wet but based on the attractive man in front of you with pecs you want to take a bite out of and the biggest dick you’ve seen in person, you have an idea why.

“Just wanted to remind you who exactly you belong too” he says, drunkness seeping back in. He hopes to remember this tomorrow and block Tanner from your phone.

“I think I like jealous Rafe” you voice slurs, hands running down his chest and abs.

“Good because he’s sticking around, until the only name you know how to say is mine” he says as his hand runs down your side and squeezes at your bare ass. You giggle as he leans and kisses you again, his dick still semi hard and pressed against you. The noise he makes when you wrap your hand around him is one you plan to memorize.

“My turn”

a/n: you’re welcome, I know it’s been a while but I’ve also given you the longest chapter yet and it also included our characters finally reliving some of that sexual tension so Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, I missed you all ❤️

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @fishingirl12 @houseofperfecttaste @abbybarnesstuff @carma-fanficaddict @jjmaybankisbae @exhaustedbutelated @diagnosedpsychosis @daivny @drewstarkeygf @vinniehackersbaee @emsgoodthinkin @apollo3475 @https-urwife @willowalexissss @kisstaya @hcneyedsstuff @lexiereblogs @drewsuncrustables @mveggieburger @marvel4life3000 @bibliophilewednesday @humungouspatrolwolf @ijustwanttoreadlols @jaijustreads @sleepjam @dilvcv @aaronhotchswife @sunshine1218 @lavenderhazeq @theultimatefrenchfangirl @kravitzwhore @chalahyung01 @jenniferpendragon @kitty-marie725

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ncteez · 1 year

Text

friends don’t fuck (l.s.m)

Your best friend of several years says that he can share a bed without being weird. Well, he’s a fucking liar.

or the one where neither of you sees any harm in fucking just to see what it’s like.

ao3 | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do.

WORDCOUNT― 3.7k

PAIRING― seokmin x afab reader

CONTENT― first time with big boy bestie, crackish, fluffish, mostly just smut

NOTE― im just in love with him bro. i know that i’m typically more known for writing plot and/or really detailed smut scenes with a bigger word count but i’m having fun relaxing and writing these little fics in my free time (ㅅ´ ˘ `) , which means this is not proof read.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― soft top seokmin, he gets a little lost in the sauce, BIG DICK BESTFRIEND, seokmin loves boobs, unprotected sex, cream pie, lil tiny bit of finger action

The couch is uncomfortable. That’s his excuse.

“Well, you haven’t complained once in the years you’ve been crashing at my place.” You argue, sizing up your taller best friend who just so happens to already be tucked into your bed and spread-eagling it.

“I’m complaining now, though,” Seokmin yawns, stretching his arms and legs out even further as if to kick you onto the couch, “c’mon, I won’t be weird about it.”

You size him up once again. Never did you make him sleep on the couch because you thought he would be weird about it, usually it was just because the bitch is a blanket thief.

“Fine,” you relent, sliding yourself onto the bed and using your entire body to shove him over to make room for yourself, “the least you can do is make room for me.”

He chuckles, deciding to stop being annoying and scooting over for you, and then casually rolling over so that his back is facing you, implying he’s actually going to sleep.

So, there the two of you are. Not at all awkward, because you’ve been in worse situations with him that were a bit overwhelming (like that time he spilled his drink on you and mocked you for looking like you pissed yourself in the middle of a food court), this is nothing. It’s actually kind of weird that the two of you have never shared a bed considering the sheer amount of time you spend crashing in each other’s space. Guess it just never came up, guess neither of you cared too much about it.

It’s silent for a good thirty minutes save for the almost-muted Netflix show playing on the tv and your eyes are feeling ridiculously heavy. You can feel that heavy-sleep fuzz consume your body before you’re jolted out of it by none other than the fucking man himself.

“Are you still awake?” your best friend whispers as he shifts on your bed, presumably turning to face you.

“Trying not to be,” you mutter out in annoyance, staying on your back but turning your head to look at him with drooping eyes, “why, is the bed also too uncomfortable for your highness?”

He smiles and shakes his head, his eyes zoning in on your face and studying it.

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Well, can you stop so I can sleep?” You argue, not actually annoyed but just very tired.

“How do you feel about like–” he ignores you and pauses mid-sentence, which brings you to a place of curiosity.

“How do I feel about what, Seokmin?” You grouch, this time turning fully to face him.

You take a minute to admire him, despite seeing him multiple times a week. He looks nice when he’s tired, and you’ve told him a thousand times how handsome he is. You really don’t think he gets it though, like, look at him. His sharp features always fall into softness when he’s just finished yawning, and his eyes always flutter differently when he’s sleepy. It’s not like you’re into him that way though, you just know how to appreciate an attractive person, regardless of if he’s your best friend and in your bed.

“I don’t know, me and Seungcheol were talking about how we lost our virginities and–”

“Why?” You snort, imagining that they probably were just rambling at each other for that topic to be brought up.

“That doesn’t matter,” he groans, waving you off and continuing his point, “anyway, he mentioned that he lost his to his best friend and I was like, woah,” he looks at you, watching for a reaction, “like, wouldn’t it be just so weird to have sex with a best friend?”

You raise a brow at him and narrow your eyes.

“I mean, to some I guess it’s weird, depends on the person?”

“Okay, but I’m asking you.” He prods, trying not to be obvious but ultimately failing.

“Nah, I think people can do those kinds of things if they both know how to navigate the situation,” you start, looking away from him because for the first time ever, you think he might be implying something. “I’ve never tried it though.”

He deadpans at you before running a hand through his hair.

“So, you’re saying you could fuck a best friend?”

“Seokmin, you’re my best friend.”

Then he’s silent.

“I know.”

You’re avoiding the fact that you’re shocked by his sudden sexual interest in you. This is the last thing you imagined you’d be doing on a regular Tuesday night sleepover with your best friend. Like, who even goes out of their way to ask for a major change in friendship dynamics on a fucking Tuesday!?

It’s kind of flooring, actually, enough to push you out of your sleepy daze and into a different sort of mood. The man who usually keeps you grounded is now somehow making you feel entirely off balance and dizzy at the very idea. You mentioned that friends can definitely fuck if they know how to navigate the situation. Now it’s like, do you know how to do that? Are you a person who can navigate this type of thing? Can you really just accept his offer simply out of curiosity?

Clearly, being friends with Seokmin has some downsides, and those downsides are usually fighting the yearly urge to pretend his face wasn’t the star of one of your rare wet dreams. That was completely unintentional! Another one of those downsides might be the occasional stray idea of what’s in his pants. That’s totally natural though! Your friendship with him is strictly platonic albeit occasionally full of sexual curiosity.

“What if we just pretend to not be best friends for ten minutes?” Seokmin offers through the past thirty minutes of silence in the room.

“Seokmin,” you start, feeling anxious because if he asks one more time you might just take him up on the offer, “if you keep talking we won’t be best friends for any minutes.”

You can hear that all-too-familiar chuckle from him, the one that’s deep and mischievous.

“You act like I didn’t see the way you looked at me today when I got out of the shower.”

“And in what way did I look at you?” You feel a little called out simply because you didn’t even realize you were checking him out.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but–” Seokmin crowds up behind you considering you rolled away from him not too long ago, “you kind of seemed like you wanted to be under me.”

Never has he ever spoken to you like this. Sure, there’s a sexual joke here or there. Maybe even a playful ass slap and a fake moan, but this? This felt a little too real, and a little too inviting.

“Wrong,” you argue as a last-ditch effort to save yourself from whatever it is that you’d definitely prefer to happen right now.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you keep rubbing your ass against me?”

Goddammit. You were doing that, weren’t you? It’s his fault for crowding up behind you, all you were doing was– never mind that. The issue at hand here is you trying to pretend you’re not curious enough to absolutely fuck him. The even bigger issue is figuring out how this is gonna work, and if it’ll be worth it.

You pull your ass away for a moment, mostly to decide on what to do without feeling his–uh…thing against you. He shocks you though, by placing his hand around your waist and not really letting you. He knows you’re into it, there’s no way he doesn’t. Your best friend, the big bimbo man who also happens to go by another name of Seokmin, would never do something like this if he wasn’t already aware of how stubborn you are. Just this afternoon you eyeballed his snack and refused to admit that you wanted a bite until he basically force fed you. You’re stubborn, but he knows that you set boundaries seriously when he’s got the wrong idea.

God, you’re so in your head about this right now. Especially with him crowded up behind you, hands on your waist, his lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

“Okay,” you admit, defeated as you intentionally press yourself against him this time. “ten minutes,”

“Yeah?” He sighs out, and yeah, you were right– he’s like right there.

“If you make this weird, I’m never talking to you again.” You attempt to argue, but there's a feeling in your gut that overpowers any type of anxiety right now. Maybe it’s because his hands don’t stray from your waist, and they stay gentle, or maybe it’s because his lips are immediately against your neck and he’s pressing his length against you.

Oh so you’re really doing this now? This is how he starts off when he wants to fuck someone? Your best friend likes to kiss and lick and suck against the neck of his interest while also letting them feel his size? Damn, okay. You’re trying to hold it together, honestly. The nearly muted netflix show that’s playing sounds as if it has no sound at all by this point because you’re entirely focused on the fact that this is the reality and you’re about to fuck your best friend for shits and giggles. You’re seeing him in a brand new light, and goddamn does it look beautiful on him.

“You know…” Seokmin whispers against the back of your neck as he plants a kiss there, his fingers running from your waist to your stomach and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I’ve never seen you without clothes on before,”

He’s right.

“We agreed on ten minutes,” you say, still being a bit stubborn but also encouraging him to take your shirt off– or his pants, or anything else for that matter, “you’re taking your sweet time.”

You can feel his lips against you turning into a smile and just as you go to try and make another snide comment, you’re grabbed by him and rolled over onto your back. He’s so quick with it, and seeing him now after already feeling his body against yours, he doesn’t look like your best friend. He looks like someone you desperately want to make feel good.

“Up.” He instructs, lifting your shirt until it’s caught under your arms. You do as he asked, of course, and then lay back down feeling kind of shy about the fact that he’s blatantly staring at your chest and–oh.

“God,” he groans, dipping down and nuzzling his face against them, “I knew they’d be pretty.”

There’s that heat spreading across your cheeks. You’re blushing and feeling goosebumps run all across your skin and it’s making you feel kind of small but also kind of adored.

“Ten minutes,” you remind him with a coo, cupping your hand on the back of his head as he continues to nuzzle and kiss against your tits, “get our pants off before you lose sight of the goal–”

He pulls up, looking at you with a raised brow and a slack jaw. Then he narrows his eyes.

“You’re really only gonna let me go for ten minutes?”

Of course not.

“Ten minutes, firm. Unless you change my mind.”

Ah, he does love a challenge, that’s true. Only this time you see this challenge as something more than a drinking contest or who can get the most kills in a video game. You swear he’s moving faster than he ever has before, navigating his big body and pulling himself back. He doesn’t even ask before he slips your pajama pants off of you, followed by his own.

You look down at him, now wanting your own curiosity to be satiated, but he’s still moving fast and leans down to your face, blocking your view.

“Now, hold on–” you argue, shoving his face away and lifting your head a bit to see between his legs, “you can’t just whip it out and not let me see it.”

He chuckles, because that’s fair. He pulls himself back, sitting on his knees between your legs and proudly presents his length to you. You stare, and then he stares. Both of you, stuck in a loop of taking in the other’s body and what there is to offer in terms of pleasure once you both have your fill of visuals.

His eyes go from your tits to your belly and then stop directly between your legs, and it’s like he wants to pray to the heavens for you wanting to do this because damn you look good. He wonders if you’re wet, or if you’re as excited as he is to be doing this with you.

Then there’s you, eyes scanning his length and internally trying to measure the circumference of his thickness. He had a huge cock this whole time and didn’t even offer to let you see it before now? What an awful best friend, he should be ashamed for withholding such information about himself from you.

“Hey, um–” you swallow around nothing, probably because your throat is trying to prepare itself for him. “not to be weird or anything but like, when did you get so fucking hot?”

He smiles, giving you a breathy laugh before finally tearing his eyes away from your folds.

“Why? Am I turning you on?”

You roll your eyes at that, leaning forward and grabbing his hand. He falls forward a bit with an excited breath and then immediately sighs out when he realizes that you place his fingers directly on your clit.

What you were gonna say was that he can see for himself if you’re turned on, instead, the second he felt it against his fingers, he slid them down and started exploring with a gentle groan.

“Good,” he compliments you, continuing to run his fingers through your folds, “can I kiss you too, or is that off limits?”

You look at him like he’s an idiot, but he knows what that means.

It’s silent when he does it. His lips laid against yours and feeling so plush and warm that all you can do is lick them until he lets you in. He does, and it’s really fucked up that he also hid the fact that he definitely knows how to kiss a woman from you too. From feeling his fingers teasing your entrance to feeling his tongue teasing your own– you feel elated that you’re getting this from him.

The kiss lasts much longer than his fingers do between your legs. You felt the absence of them for a split second before feeling him slide his length against you and essentially coat his cock in your arousal. He’s thick, long, and incredibly hard against you.

You let out a strangled sort of groan feeling it, and you shocked yourself at the sound. Never have you been so excited to feel someone rubbing their length between your lips. He kisses you harder when you make the sound, and you can feel his hips press into you with more pressure. For a second, you thought about it. You thought about doing this for hours, days, weeks with him. Unfortunately though, you both have shit to do and it upsets you a bit too much right now.

You whine against his lips, bringing your hand up and pushing his messy hair out of his face to prevent it from tickling your own. That same hand drags through his hair, down his back, and then between the two of you.

His body jolts when you grab him, and he pulls back from the kiss with a dazed smile and looks down at your hand around him.

“Do you want it now?” He asks, shaking his head at the situation, feeling like he’s on top of the world. Technically, he kind of is, because you’re kind of his whole world right now.

You smile back mischievously, lifting your hips a bit and guiding his length down. You’re incredibly prepared to feel him, to see him, and to know what it’s like for other’s when your best friend fucks them. Why shouldn’t you know, anyway?

He nods to you, leaning his head down to your chest and attaching his lips around one of your nipples as he attempts and fails to find the hole the first time. You help him with a laugh though, guiding him a bit more until both of you release a sigh at the feeling of his head stretching you open.

He now loses the ability to suckle on your nipple and instead drops his head to the side and treats your tits like a personal pillow as he focuses solely on the slide inside of you. He wants you to feel every inch of him, and jesus christ does he want to make sure he feels every inch of you.

Taking his sweet time, he shallowly thrusts into you slowly until the last thrust, where he plants himself between your legs and wiggles his hips against you just to get a snug fit inside of you. You think he might be deeper than anyone has ever gone before, and instantly you’re gripping him into a hug as he waits patiently for you to adjust.

He’s silent for a bit, squeezing his eyes shut and reaching a hand down to guide your legs around his waist, and he only releases his own moan when he stops holding his breath. You do as he encourages, wrapping your legs around him and waiting for him to show you what he’s made of.

“You can move–” you say in a small voice, releasing him from your hug and brushing his hair out of his face once more as he raises his cheek from your chest.

He listens well, pulling his hips back and slowly sliding into you again. You can see his face right now and it’s different from anything you’ve ever seen before. He’s being passionate and it’s fucking insane to see him like this.

“You’re really hot, did you know that?” You compliment him, clenching around him and watching his breath hitch at it.

What you’re not aware of though, is how in his head he is about you right now. You’re so fucking wet for him and it’s driving him up a fucking wall. The drag of his cock against your walls is sending intense shocks throughout his entire body, and honestly, hearing your voice on top of it all compliment him makes him want to hate himself for never bringing this up to you before.

He doesn’t respond, and his pupils continue to grow as he looks at you with each thrust. He’s lost in the thought of getting to be inside of you specifically.

And when he finds a rhythm, one that’s equally as hard as it is deep, you can’t even muster words for him. You’re breathless, moaning as his stupid necklace dangles against your face when he moves his hands to either side of your head to support himself.

You can’t really look away from him though. He’s never been this quiet before and he’s never looked this insanely hot before– you decide to stop thinking so hard, throwing your arms up and around his neck to pull him down into a kiss. His thrusts become slower at that point but still insanely deep.

“You’re going to make me come if you–” you whisper against his lips but get cut off, sighing with a slight moan as he presses harder into you.

You don’t even think he’s listening, because now he’s talking. His voice is insanely deep and raspy when he does it.

“You’re going to come on me?” He says, completely lost in his lust, probably attempting to say whatever is on his mind, “gonna come all over me?”

Well, when he puts it that way. Hell yeah.

You shoot your hand between the two of you and it’s like, three rubs of your clit and you’re already shaking.

“That’s it babe, squeeze me,” he chokes out, feeling your other hand scratch against his back and against his neck.

He watches your face as you release around him, studying the way you close your eyes and moan out for him. He thinks it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever done, come on his cock, you know?

“Jesus,” he chokes out this time, feeling you still squeezing around him as your legs start to shake, “okay, fuck, hold on–” he adds, now putting more power into his thrusts and chasing a high that’s close enough already.

Good thing your best friend knows you’re on birth control, considering he’s the one who has to remind you to take it half of the time.

When he reaches his own orgasm, you’re just coming out of yours. You can feel his relentless hips stutter as he reaches it, and you watch the way he holds his breath through it. He’s literally not breathing when it happens and all you can do is, similar to him, fucking watch.

You can feel his load pumping into you, and when he finally releases his breath, his groan is breathy and guttural before he practically flops down onto you and tries to regain his breath.

“Ugh,” he groans out, refusing to remove his limp limbs from caging you in, “why was that so hot?”

You’re taken aback by that for some reason.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You grouch, shoving him off of you and wincing at the way he slides out of you at the same time.

“I mean, like, how am I supposed to not want to do this again?” He laughs through his own wince, knowing full well that his cum is probably seeping out of you in heaps.

“Who says you’re not supposed to?” You look away from him, unprepared for conversation immediately after orgasm, but also slightly relieved that he’s back to his talkative self.

“Oh?” He smiles, pulling himself up from your bed and wiggling his brows at you, “So, now we are best friends that fuck?”

You shrug, looking up and down his body.

“Yeah, if you don’t make it weird.”

#seokmin smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #lee seokmin smut

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