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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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Mr. July - Part Three
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Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Female Reader
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Still tame, mentions of brief language and mentions of an Omega in heat and a crude comment.
Words: 1,665
Previous: Teaser, One, Two
Summary | After posing for a calendar for charity, an Alpha finds that the attention he gets gives him more trouble than it’s worth.
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Not even the cold shower that Steve took can prepare him for the scent that fills his nose when you open the door. Perspiration dots your forehead when your eyes continue upward and stop at his shy smile. He can’t help but take a step back to make sure you’re comfortable, even when you swallow hard at the scent of him, the iPad in his hand as he looks down at it, eyes focusing on the words as he clears his throat.
“Sorry to bother you,” he apologizes, the faint blush of his cheeks spreading to his ears. “I just got your maintenance request. Are you sure this… this is a good time?”
He doesn’t want to say what he already knows to be true – that you’re in full blown heat, shifting back and forth while you clutch the blanket that is wrapped around your shoulders like a cape. Steve hopes you don’t notice the iPad slightly shaking in his grip before you push the door open wider for him to enter.
“I can have S-Scott come,” he swallows with a short pause. “He can come and help you.”
“It’s just the water,” you speak softly, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s completely out in the bathroom.”
“That’s no good,” he answers you, intent on going straight to the bathroom, fixing your issue and then leaving, even as your scent makes his mouth water. He is better than his designation, he tells himself, shaking his head slightly to follow you down the hall, tool bag in hand.
He can see Bucky’s smirk in his head when he flicks the light on, flooding the pristine bathroom with light while you retreat back a few steps to let him work. It’s a dance, the way the distance is kept just enough at arm’s length before he places his tool bag down and kneels to inspect the faucet, aware that your gaze is on him.
“Do… do you think you can fix it?”
Your sweet voice gives him pause as he’s aware of the perspiration on his own brow, giving you a short nod before he reaches for a wrench. It must be torture for an Omega like you to not have access to your shower in a time like this. He is quiet, back to you as he works until he had hear the soft pad of your feet disappear down the hall.
🔨
You can’t get comfortable.
Every little shift in your movements makes your teeth grit, annoyance at what you’re going through making you whimper into the pillow. The last thing you need from this apartment is more problems and to top it off, the delicious smelling Alpha is only a few feet away, fixing your broken shower. All you want to do is take a nice hot shower, ease the ache in your hips and muscles before you take some medication for the pain.
He's much better than Peter. Lightyears better than the one Alpha who tried to get into your pants when you were first going into heat two doors down. This one seems to be aware of your plight and to not want to mention it in any capacity.
Still, curiosity wins out when you see him head out the door and you can hear the lock before the door closes, his footsteps fading when you realize he made sure your door was locked. You also know that he listened to your request about a Beta handyman when you had sent in the work order. This time, however, you didn’t care who it was.
Or maybe you did, you think, burying your head into the pillow as you hear the knock at the door, realizing he locked himself out. Getting up proves harder than you think, shockwaves of pain swirling around your belly before you take a wobbly step and then another before your legs decide to work.
Mr. July – Steve – looks sheepish as he waves a thank you before slipping past you.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I locked your door,” he mumbles, shuffling back to the bathroom. “Should almost be done.”
You check the door, realizing that he’s locked it again, almost so quickly that it sinks in that it’s a force of habit. There’s no way he could be protecting you, you think, brushing aside the thought of him trying to keep you safe. It’s probably a nervous habit, you tell yourself, closing the door while you hear the sound of running water that makes you breathe a sigh of relief.
Steve doesn’t expect to see you that close when he turns off the light, tool bag hung over his shoulder when he runs right into you, blue eyes wide before he steadies you, his hands on your skin that sends an electric jolt right to your core.
“Sorry,” he apologies quickly, his face a bright red. “I didn’t see you.”
“It’s okay,” you answer, your mouth slightly parted as you breathe in his scent. You can’t stop, knowing you’re in his space as he stands completely still.
“Is there… is there anything else I can help you with? That is maintenance related?” he qualifies, swallowing hard.
“N-No,” you reply, knowing you should move. Your body doesn’t want to. Not when there’s a virile Alpha in front of you, smelling absolutely amazing and handsome to boot.
“Okay,” Steve breathes. “Yeah. Well, it’s fixed so you have running water in the shower if you need it.”
“I do.”
“That’s great,” he swallows, taking a step back as he bumps against the wall. “Sorry.”
“Thank you for coming and helping me.”
The chirp you let out makes him close his eyes as he nods, exhaling slightly before you realize you’re too close.
“Sorry,” you apologize, letting him pass. “I don’t know what happened.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he assures you, reaching for the door before he tries to twice before he looks back at you.
“Oh, I think I forgot about the top lock,” you murmur, unsure of when you slid it over.
Your hand brushes against his before you realize what you’re doing, scenting him before the door finally opens and he scrambles outside, closing it behind you.
“Lock it,” he tells you, your hand reaching up to comply.
Comply, you blink, hearing him try the door to make sure you did what he asked.
Or rather, what he Alpha commanded.
🔨
“You alright?” Bucky says, slapping Steve on the back as he looks at his dinner. It’s still half eaten, getting cold while Bucky puts away the case of beer in the fridge.
“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, pushing around the meatloaf with his fork. “Fine.”
“You smell like you had a good time. Wanna tell me what you were up to?”
“I was fixing something. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, fixing something?” Bucky doesn’t resist the urge to raise his eyebrows in mock surprise. “She really likes you, Steve.”
“She needed her shower fixed.”
“Did she ask for a Beta?”
Steve hesitates for a moment, swiping up the iPad to double check that he didn’t overstep his boundaries, ignoring Bucky’s smirk before he lets out a loud exhale of relief.
“She didn’t.”
“Good,” Bucky points out. “She needs an Alpha.”
“Don’t be crude,” Steve chastises, shaking his head before picking up his plate, scraping off the contents into the trash before loading it into the dishwasher. “She was in pain.”
“There’s a way to fix that,” Bucky says, throwing up his hands in the air in defense as Steve shoots him a murderous look. “I’m not being crass, I promise. An Omega in full blown heat needs a lot of attention.”
“I need to leave her alone.”
“She might need a heating pad. Chocolate? Or is that for cramps? You know, I’m actually really shit at this stuff. Heating pad works though. Maybe some dinner?”
“I’m not going over there again, Buck. It was bad enough she was trying to scent me. It was too much.”
“For who?”
“For both of us.”
Bucky can tell Steve is frustrated, his gaze going back to the wound up Alpha who is pacing in the kitchen.
“Well,” Bucky says with a laugh, plucking a beer from the fridge. “Of course you are. You’re in rut.”
🔨
Steve tosses and turns, sweat dripping down as he strips off his shirt, tossing it away as the fan hits his skin, breathing a sigh of temporary relief.
It’s been hours since he left you the gift at the door, going incognito when he made his way to the store and then to the Italian place down the street, mumbling to himself earlier that there was no way that this would ever work. For once, he took his best friend’s advice but he’s paying for it now, teeth gritting as he tries to get your delectable scent out of his head.
He hears the doorbell, refusing to get out of bed when Bucky shouts from his room that he’ll get it.
It’s silent for a moment, minutes passing before the door closes and he can hear Bucky’s heavy footsteps until they stop at his door.
“Open up, punk,” Bucky orders. “And you better not be naked.”
Steve all but rips open the door, Bucky standing with a pizza in his hand.
“Your little Omega dropped this off. Said it’s her way of saying thank you for fixing her shower. She smells really sweet.”
“I know,” Steve growls, Bucky hiding a smile before Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s the rut, Bucky.”
“Sure it is, pal. We eatin’ or not?”
“Isn’t that pizza for me?”
Bucky spins on his heels, heading toward the living room.
“Yeah but I get half. That’s your fee for not answering the door.”
Bucky plops down on the couch as Steve follows, Bucky opening up the box as Steve nabs a slice.
“By the way,” Bucky says mid bite, motioning with his head at Steve’s phone. “I gave her your number.”
“You what?!”
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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Ransom's Revenge 4
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Relationship: Ransom Drysdale x MILF!Reader
Summary: Ransom hates his new summer intern Hunter and the feeling is mutual. Ransom decides to put Hunter in his place the worst way he knows how – dicking down Hunter’s mom.
A/N: This fic was supposed to be a oneshot, but you wanted more naughty Ransom and so here we are. This is a follow up to my submission for the Triple D Challenge aka “Dicked Down by a Divorcee��.
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of infidelity, some violence, squirting, misogyny, Ransom being an asshole
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
“That was a very lively conversation.” Ransom smirked as he sat down across from Richard.
Your ex-husband’s face was beet red as he stared at the two of you in disbelief. Ransom’s normally perfectly coiffed hair was a bit mussed and you knew that you looked an absolute mess. Worse yet, you both definitely smelled of sex and you felt Ransom’s now cooling spend coating your panties. He put his hand between your thighs, making you lower your head and bite your lip to try and hide your amusement.
You noticed that Willa and Richard had already ordered their drinks. You picked up the menu and tried not to giggle as you looked at the list of cocktails. Ransom leaned over to whisper in your ear as he eyed Richard’s angry face.
“I should fuck you between each course just to piss dear Richie off even more.”
You chortled and covered your mouth, then looked up to see Richard rolling his eyes at you. Willa sat there clearly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and she could barely look at you.
Ransom kissed your temple and turned to Richard, “I honestly don’t know how you let this one get go.” He teased as he patted your thigh.
“Ransom!” You gently scolded him and whacked his arm, “Anyway, thank you for the invite, Richard. It was definitely…unexpected.”
Richard leaned back in his chair casually and examined Ransom’s smug face, “I just wanted to see how you’re doing - and also meet the guy my son can’t stop talking about.”
You instantly tensed up at Richard mentioning Hunter. You hadn’t spoken to him since the incident at your penthouse and you also hated the idea of him and your ex talking about Ransom. Richard was a slimy bastard and you didn’t put it past him to be using what happened with Hunter for his own benefit. He’d always been possessive and jealous, even when he was cheating on you.
“Seems like you two don’t get along.” Richard pressed, “Which is a shame, given that you’re not that much older than him. You’d think you have more in common.”
Oh, that made you upset. It was an obvious dig at your and Ransom’s age gap. You could feel Ransom’s hand tightening on your thigh and see his jaw clench out of the corner of your eye.
“Ransom is in his 30s, Richard.” You pointed out crossly, “Willa on the other hand, is only five years older than Hunter and they still fight like cats and dogs.”
Willa narrowed her eyes at you and dropped her piece of bread on her plate, “Well maybe it’s because you -”
“So, Ran, what exactly do you do at your grandfather’s company?” He abruptly interrupted Willa. It was something he happened to do quite frequently, along with speaking about her as if she weren’t there. Willa just looked down and picked at her piece of bread as a result.
Ransom’s jaw ticked at Richard’s overly familiar tone, “You can just call me Hugh, Richard. I’d actually prefer it.”
“Oh?” Richard raised his eyebrows, “Well, my apologies, Hugh. Please, continue.”
The server finally came to take your drink orders as Ransom was about to start speaking. You both ordered dirty gin martinis. It was your drink of choice when you wanted to get drunk and this time you had a reason to.
“I help determine which authors we’re going to sign on for new contracts actually.” Ransom started seriously as he finally removed his hand from your thigh, “You can think of it as talent acquisition for new writers.”
“So you guys do more than just murder mysteries now, huh?” Richard jested, with a tinge of condescension, “You don’t really seem like a ‘Clue’ kinda guy.”
Ransom sucked his teeth and you could feel his irritation beginning to grow, “We publish a lot more than that. I’m also likely to take over Harlan’s share of the company when he passes, so I’ll be half owner.”
Richard took a sip of his drink and leaned in as if to whisper something, “Well, just in case that doesn’t work out, it’s a good thing you’ve got a sugar mama.” He winked at you smugly before taking another sip.
Your eyes went wide in anger and your nostrils flared, “Richard! That is entirely inappropriate!”
He leaned back in his seat and chuckled, “What? Y/N, come on…Don’t be so sensitive. I’m just teasing. And besides, having a sugar baby isn’t such a bad thing. I should know.” He said motioning at Willa. Her face turned red in embarrassment and she fiddled with her napkin under the table.
Ransom however was incensed, “You know what, Richard, we’ve barely been at the table for twenty goddamn minutes and you’re already being a total fucking prick.”
You grabbed Ransom’s arm and turned to him, “Ransom, it’s fine.” You tried to calm him, but he just put his hand over yours.
“No, Y/N. It’s not fine.” He said sternly, “You’re not going to take this kind of shit while I’m around. Get up, we’re leaving.” He helped you out of your seat and handed you your purse.
“Ohhhh wooooow!” Richard feigned being offended, “You literally just fucked my ex-wife in the bathroom and I’m the one being a prick?!”
The rest of the restaurant turned to stare at the commotion as Ransom and Richard were sizing each other up.
“You’re just jealous because she’s finally getting some good dick in her life, Richie.” Ransom challenged him, “You obviously don’t know how to handle a real woman.”
Richard stood up angrily and threw his napkin on the table, “A real woman? Psh! You’re not even a real man. Just some young wanna be hotshot whose greatest achievement is being someone’s grandson.”
“Not a real man?” Ransom chuckled darkly in Richard’s face, “Tell me, Richie, you wanna know the last time I had to take a pill to get my dick to work? Literally never. Eat shit and die of e.Coli, you old balding bitch.”
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.” Ransom nearly ordered as he grabbed you by your hand to walk back to get the car.
“What a piece of fucking garbage.” Ransom fumed as he started the vehicle, “Who the hell does he think he is speaking to us like that?!”
As your ire at Richard’s behavior began to wane, your appreciation for Ransom sticking up for you grew. The way he spoke to Richard, started to get you hot and bothered during the ride back and you wanted to show your appreciation. Ransom was still fuming about dinner, but you had stopped paying attention and stuck your hand between his thighs. That shut him up quickly.
You gave him a mischievous look as you rubbed his crotch to get him hard. He bit his lower lip as he looked at you blushing. Ransom opened his legs a little wider to allow you access and you felt the large bulge growing in his pants. You licked your lips as you undid his belt and fly to free his hard cock.
He let out a shaky breath as you started to stroke him slowly, “People can see us with how low this car is, Y/N.”
“Oh, I know.” You purred seductively before leaning down and licking his tip.
Ransom gasped and the car swerved a little bit. Horns blared around you as he got back into his lane. You took his length into your mouth and bobbed your head up and down in unison with your hand. Ransom gripped the steering wheel tightly and took deep breaths to try and focus on the road as you worked his tip with your tongue.
“Holy fuck!” He whimpered, as you continued to bob your head up and down.
You took him in deeper and fucked your own throat with his cock. The gurgling and slurping noises were just barely audible above the car’s music. You moaned around him and picked up your pace. You could feel him hardening even more and he got close, so you squeezed tightly around his firm girth.
“That’s it baby.” He groaned lustfully, “Just like that. So fucking close.”
He stopped at a stop sign and took one hand off the wheel to place it on the back of your head. He bucked his hips up into you and nearly choked you with how far back he was fucking your throat. Ransom grunted as he fucked your mouth while the drivers behind him angrily blew their horns. His cock twitched and he held you against his small hairs while he shot his thick salty cum down your throat.
“Goddamn.” He panted as you pulled off of him and wiped your mouth with your hands. He gave you a sloppy breathy kiss before flipping off the drivers behind him and speeding away.
~~~
“Ransom!” His mother greeted him with a hug the next day with a hug as they sat down for brunch. She smiled at him before picking up her menu.
He rolled his eyes and tossed the menu out of the way, “You already know what you’re going to get. You get the same thing every time. Eggs Benedict, black coffee, and two glasses of champagne.”
Linda pursed her lips, “Well, you never know if I might want to branch out and have two glasses of chardonnay instead.” She replied with a chuckle before placing her menu on top of Ransom’s.
His mother started sharing updates on her life and the family, and as per usual Ransom zoned out. He wasn’t just uninterested in what she had to say, but he was also distracted. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it felt like to have your warm wet mouth around his cock while he was driving the previous night. It wasn’t only dangerous, but he was also turned on by the cars that passed by with drivers who would look into the car to see you sucking him off.
“Ransom! Ransom!” He heard his mother snap her fingers to pull him out of his daze, “Are you going to the charity event or not?”
“Oh,” he mumbled, “Yeah, I’m going. It’ll look weird if I don’t show up anyway for work reasons.”
Linda scoffed, “It’s also for a good cause, Ransom.” She lightly chided him. Linda gave him a playful grin, “And… I’m inviting someone who I think you should meet.”
That got his attention, “What do you mean by someone I should meet?” He looked at her suspiciously, “Like a girl?”
“Yes! Do you remember my Jeannie from the country club?” She asked him, “Well, her daughter Lau -”
“Not interested.” Ransom cut her off abruptly, “I already have a plus one.”
Linda’s eyebrows shot up at the news and she perked up, “Pray tell, who is this mysterious girl that you’re inviting? I haven’t heard anything about you seeing someone.”
He cleared his throat after he took another sip of his coffee and leaned back in his chair cockily, “First of all, mother, it’s not a girl. My date is a woman. Second of all, you already know her.”
She looked at him confused as she wracked her brain trying to think of “suitable” matches for him or ones she knew were his type.
“Y/N L/N.” He said matter-of-factly, “We’re an item. Clearly Harlan didn’t tell you.”
Linda’s mouth was agape in shock and she dropped her fork, “Y/N?!” She asked in disbelief, “What? When? How?! Her?!”
He looked at her offended by her surprise, or rather, “Her?!”
“We met when she came into the office to visit her dad and her son, who happens to be my intern. Annoying little shit named Hunter, but that’s besides the point, mother. Yes, her.”
Linda still just stared at him in shock, “But - but she’s - “
“Hot as fuck?” Ransom interjected.
His mother leaned in to whisper, “Older!”
“Okay, and?” He responded, now slightly irritated, “What? You want me to go out with some sad country club girl who’s just going to hang on my dick because of who I am?”
“Ransom, language!” She sniped, “And no, not hang on your - you know - but someone who…well first of all, you wouldn’t be a stepdad. That’s for starters. You already said her son was a little shit!”
He scoffed at her fake concern, “I’ve got that situation under control and he’s in college. He’s not that much of a problem.”
His mother nearly choked on her water when hearing how old your son was, “And what about your own children, Ransom? Hm? She’s likely too old to have anymore.”
“Number one, how dare you and number two, you think my swimmers can’t handle a challenge.” He retorted cavalierly, “For all I know, I’ve gotten her pregnant already.” He shrugged before downing the rest of his coffee.
“You’re not using protection!?” She said loudly, making the other patrons turn to look at her, “Oh, fuck off and pay attention to your own table!” She snapped at the people dining next to them.
Ransom leaned back in his chair and laughed, “You just said she probably can’t get pregnant and now you’re concerned that she is going to get pregnant? I’m no gyno but I’m pretty sure you can’t have it both ways, mother.” He tutted her mockingly.
“This is serious! Her father is Harlan’s business partner.” Linda chided him, “I can’t have you causing drama when you get out of this little MILF phase of yours.”
He put his elbows on the table and clenched his jaw as he studied her, “It’s not a phase.”
“Okay, okay.” She said putting her hands up defensively, “I just want you to keep your options open for someone closer to your age and stage in life. But to change the topic to something more neutral, are you coming to the garden party tomorrow night?”
Ransom gave her a sly smirk, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
~~~
“That’s it, baby!” Ransom grunted above you on his knees as he held your legs against his chest, “Good girl. Cum for daddy!”
He bit his lip as he stared at your tits bouncing underneath him. You could feel the smooth skin of his cock and every vein massaging against your sweet spot. The pleasure began to overtake your exhausted body as he pulled yet another orgasm from you. It felt like Ransom was going to fuck you within an inch of your life.
“No more!” You whined loudly as you started to tense and clench around him. The intensity was overwhelming and you had already started sobbing five minutes ago.
“Just one more for me.” He lustfully commanded you as beads of sweat rolled down his body, “One more, sweetheart. Need to feel you squeeze my dick.”
He wrapped your legs around his hips and snapped them into you mercilessly to bring you to your final peak. You bared down around him and screamed as your orgasm ripped through you, the force of it nearly knocking you out. Your back arched off the bed and your nails dug into the twisted sheets above your head as your body shook violently and a flood of your juices squirted out of you and down Ransom’s thighs.
“Fuuuuck!!!” He cried as he came right after and collapsed on top of you.
You both breathed heavily as you came down from your highs. Your body trembled underneath his, overstimulated and spent. He pulled away and propped himself up on his forearms. Ransom kissed your tears away and then gave you a soft kiss on the lips.
“You did so well for me, baby.” He cooed as he stroked your sweaty hair, “Mmmm look at you squirting all over my cock.”
“I ruined the bed.” You nearly slurred as you finally noticed the giant wet spot underneath you.
Ransom chuckled and pried you off the bed. He picked you up bridal style and walked you into another room of your penthouse. He gently laid you down in the dark room and then snuggled next to you.
You and Ransom laid intertwined in post coital bliss. Your head rested on his chest and you could hear his heart still beating rapidly as he came down from his high. You had a smile on your face as your head moved up and down with his heaving chest. One of Ransom’s arms was wrapped around you while he rested his head on the other one. You playfully darted your tongue out to lick his nipple and his body jerked in surprise, making him chuckle. You laid there quietly in each others’ presence before he finally broke the silence.
“So, do you have plans tomorrow night?” He quietly asked you.
“No,” You gently shook your head, “What’s up?”
“I want you to come to the family garden party as my guest.”
You sat up abruptly and looked at him as if he were crazy, “Ransom, you know I can’t do that. Your mom is my client and I haven’t even told her about us. I was hoping to not bring it up until after the event just in case she doesn’t take it well.”
His eyes darkened slightly as he looked up at you and he sucked his teeth, “Are you saying you want to keep me a secret?”
“What? No!” You were taken aback at the suggestion, “I’m just saying I didn’t want to complicate things because I work for your mom right now.”
“Listen, you don’t have to worry about Linda. I’ve already told her.”
Your mouth was agape at the fact that he would have told his mother about you. You liked him and you enjoyed your time with him. But as you told Richard, this was new. Dating in a way was also new as well. More importantly, you didn’t think Ransom would get so serious, let alone so quickly.
“I was going to the event anyway. What did you expect me to do, just ignore you? Or we’d pretend like we didn’t know each other?”
He did have a good point. It was unlikely the chemistry between you and Ransom would have gone unnoticed by his mother. You also knew that he wouldn’t have the self control to keep his hands to himself during the auction, which you had made a mental note to talk to him about.
“Um..well..” You tried to murmur out, “I’ll go. But does your family know I’m coming?”
“I may not have…told them?” He admitted reluctantly.
“Ransom!” You scolded him as you playfully pinched his side.
“Okay! Okay! I’ll tell Harlan.” Ransom kissed you before you got up to use the bathroom.
“Is this Hunter’s room?” You turned around to look at him in disbelief when you turned on the bathroom light.
“Maybe?” Ransom replied innocently, “To be fair, I thought it was a guest room.”
“Unbelievable.” You shook your head laughing before closing the door.
He pulled out his phone and went on TikTok. His cousin had helped him set it up and he’d only gotten it so he could spy on your son. He came across a new video he’d posted of him with his dad. He started playing it with the sound on low while you were away.
Hunter was golfing with Richard earlier that day at their country club. It showed them driving around in their cart and then going shopping together at some expensive preppy douchey store.
“My dad is the 🐐. Irreplaceable.” One of the captions said, “You can try.”
Ransom chuckled as he watched Hunter’s veiled insult to him and his pathetic display of playing Richard up.
“No Stepdads. Only child.”
Ransom shook his head and wheezed. He pulled up a browser to search, “How to make a stitch.”
“You dumb little fucker.” He cackled loudly until you entered the room and he hid his phone.
You looked at him suspiciously as you approached the bed, “What’s so funny, huh? Wanna share?”
“Nah, you wouldn’t be interested. Just some fucking idiot on TikTok.”
Chapter 5
Taglist: @rededfoxy @thanatosfic @eralen @daniphantom1​ @rebekahdawkins @loki-lover23567 @po3ticb3auty @phildunphyisadilf @buckymydarlingangel
214 notes ¡ View notes
myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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Ransom's Revenge 3
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Relationship: Ransom Drysdale x MILF!Reader
Summary: Ransom hates his new summer intern Hunter and the feeling is mutual. Ransom decides to put Hunter in his place the worst way he knows how – dicking down Hunter’s mom.
A/N: This fic was supposed to be a oneshot, but you wanted more naughty Ransom and so here we are. This is a follow up to my submission for the Triple D Challenge aka “Dicked Down by a Divorcee”.
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of infidelity, some violence, Ransom being an asshole
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Monday morning finally came around and you sighed as you trudged into your office at the auction house you owned. You weren’t looking forward to going back to the real world after your sex filled staycation. Although your body was exhausted and sore, you felt young and reinvigorated. Ransom made you feel the way you did before your life with Richard had slowly broken you down.
You had a long day ahead of client meetings and also needed to finalize the event planning details for the charity auction you were running in two weeks. The proceeds were to go to Linda Drysdale’s pet philanthropic project for up and coming writers. You hoped you and Ransom could keep things under wraps until after the event, not wanting to make things awkward with Linda.
Your morning dragged on until it was finally time for the afternoon massage you had booked. You packed your purse up and told your assistant to call you if anything important popped up. On your way out of the door your phone dinged and you saw Ransom’s name pop up. You smiled to yourself like a teenager as you hurriedly unlocked your phone.
Ransom: Hey gorgeous. How’s your day going so far?
Y/N: Fine, but not as good as this weekend
Y/N: How about you?
Ransom: Missing your smile…
Ransom: …and your fantastic ass
You giggled and felt the blood rush to your face. You had admittedly become self-conscious of your body because Richard left you for a younger woman. You felt as though your age had made you less desirable and it took you months to work through it and regain your confidence. When Richard had left you, you’d made a promise to look good every time you left the house. At first it was like armor to hide your self doubt, but now you felt more assured in yourself than you had your entire life.
Y/N: Yours isn’t so bad either
Y/N: Although it’s not your best feature
Ransom: Oh? And what would that be?
Y/N: That massive dick of yours
Y/N: And then your face
Ransom: Hahaha well now I’m not that offended
Ransom: But no one has ever said my face comes in second
Y/N: It’s second for sitting on
Ransom: You need to stop. I’m getting hard in my office
Ransom: Thinking about you keeping my cock warm like a good girl while I work
You bit your lip as you read his message and felt a familiar tingle in your core. You could feel your panties becoming wet as you sat in your parked car. A mischievous smirk grew on your face as you decided to up the ante.
Y/N: How about daddy bending me over his desk and fucking me with my panties shoved in my mouth
Ransom: …
Y/N: Me squeezing around your cock as you make me cum
Ransom: Thank god for the single stall bathrooms in this office
You furrowed your brow in confusion as you read his text.
Y/N: Huh?
Ransom: I’m gonna go jerk off thinking about destroying that sweet pussy of yours
Y/N: Omg! Ransom!
You started your car in total disbelief. Your phone dinged twice as you drove and you checked it once you got to the spa. Your jaw dropped as you looked at the video Ransom sent of him stroking his dick in the bathroom followed by a text a few minutes later telling you that he felt much better. You sat in your car for a minute or two to collect yourself before responding.
Y/N: You are a very very naughty boy
Ransom: And you fucking love it, sweetheart
You chewed on your lip as you decided on how to respond, but decided it was best to leave him hanging. You were also running late enough for your appointment as it was. You walked into the spa and greeted the front desk attendant before being led into a room where the masseuse was already waiting.
The massage was exactly what you needed to release the tension in your overworked muscles. The masseuse paid extra attention to your legs where much of the knots were. You took a deep relaxing breath as you got off the table to change and leave.
You felt much better on your drive back and there was a pep in your step as you entered your office. You sat down at your desk just as your phone began to trill and your face instantly dropped when you saw Richard’s name on your screen. You thought about ignoring the call until you remembered that Hunter was staying with him, so it could be important.
“Richard?” You answered with slight concern in your voice.
“Hey, Y/N.” He said cheerily, “How’s everything going?”
You furrowed your brow in confusion as to why he could be calling you if something wasn’t wrong, “Um...everything is fine. Why are you calling? Is there something going on with Hunter?”
“Hunter? Oh, no.” Richard quickly answered, “I mean, he’s obviously still upset about what happened over the weekend. It’s also not great having him and Willa in the house together.”
His comment instantly pissed you off and you sucked your teeth in irritation, “It’s inconvenient for you to watch your own son since your girlfriend lives with you? Is that what you’re implying, Richard?”
“No, no, no.” He stammered out, “That’s not what I meant to say. I love having Hunter here. They just, you know, they don’t get along.”
“Well whose fault is that?” You sniped at him, “You know what? Why are you even calling me right now if this isn’t about Hunter?”
You could practically hear Richard’s eye roll from the other side of the phone, “I’m calling you, Y/N, because I wanted to invite you on a double date with Willa and I.”
“Excuse me?” You contorted your face, “What do you mean a double date?”
“You and Ransom” He chuckled, “Hunter obviously told me all about it. I’m happy for you and just thought that we could all have dinner together.”
It wasn’t surprising that Hunter had told his father about Ransom, but Richard wanting to get dinner was bizarre. You hadn’t shared a meal with him since your divorce unless it was for your son’s birthday. Your gut told you that something was up and your alarm bells went off.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. This is a new thing. We’re not at the dinner with the ex-husband stage. Not that that's even a stage, Richard.”
“Oh, come on, Y/N. You could at least ask him.”
“I’m not comfortable with it, but thank you for the invite. Enjoy the rest of your day.” You hung up the phone before he could say anything back to you.
Whatever Richard was trying to pull, you weren’t going to fall for it. You especially didn’t want to invite Ransom to this type of dinner so soon and scare him off. The conversation with Richard made you tense up so much that it almost canceled out the massage.
“Fucking bastard.” You muttered under your breath before opening up your laptop to start working again.
~~~
Ransom decided to take a nap in his office after jerking off in the bathroom. He closed the blinds and turned off the light before falling asleep with his head on the desk. His loud snoring filled the office as the interns and employees bustled outside.
Hunter, however, had hidden the entire day at another cubicle on the far side of the office closer to where his grandfather and Harlan worked. The other interns snickered at him when he arrived that morning and he saw them whispering every time he walked by. The last thing he wanted to do was sit at his desk across from Ransom’s office to look at the man who had not only fucked his mom, but got him kicked out of her apartment.
Harlan walked out of his office red faced and huffed. He nodded at Hunter with an apologetic look before he made a beeline for Ransom’s office. He didn’t even bother knocking and barged right in. Ransom jumped awake at the sudden sound and shielded his eyes when Harlan turned the lights on. Harlan glared at him as he shut the door behind himself.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ransom groaned, irritated as his eyes adjusted to the light.
“What am I doing?” Harlan questioned him angrily, “What are you doing, Ransom?”
“Um, taking a nap, obviously.” He sassed back, “Younger people need more sleep.”
Harlan scowled at his grandson, “You’re not that young and I’m not paying you to sleep in your goddamn office. You only have this job because your mom begged me to hire you. So you could at least pretend like you’re working.”
Ransom glared at Harlan as he leaned back in his chair. Harlan was right and he knew it, but his words stung just the same.
“So you’re here to yell at me about resting my eyes?”
“No, I’m here because I overheard the interns talking about Y/N and you. What the hell kind of game are you playing?” Harlan interrogated him, “Is this about that little spat you have with Hunter? This is low even for you, Ransom.”
Ransom’s face turned red and he dug his nails into the arms of his leather chair, “We’re both adults and I don’t see how any of this is your business. And why are you eavesdropping on the interns anyway? Don’t you have work to do?”
“Ransom! I’ve known Y/N since she was a girl and I can tell you that she’s been through enough. She doesn’t need your bullshit!” Harlan harshly scolded him while wagging his finger.
Ransom’s jaw ticked as his eyes bore holes through his grandfather, before cocking his head to the side and giving him a shit eating grin.
“You know, you’re infantilizing Y/N. That’s extremely patronizing and patriarchal. I know you’re from a different time, but these days, that type of thing is offensive.”
“You wouldn’t know anything about the patriarchy if it hit you in the face!” Harlan chided, “Besides, I know you’ll be back to those nightclub floozies in no time. That’s unless Y/N realizes she’s too good for you before that.” Harlan got up and left Ransom’s office, just barely slamming the door.
Ransom sucked on his teeth and glared at the door, “Too good for me? Too good for me?” Ransom fumed to himself, “I’m more than good enough for her. Eat shit, Harlan.”
Harlan’s words had cut Ransom like a knife. It wasn’t just his pride that he hurt by accusing him of not being good enough for you, but the fact that Ransom did genuinely like you. Getting back at Hunter and the ability to fuck with him was definitely part of it for sure. But you weren’t like the other women he’d dated and he liked that. Your confidence, your wit, and well, your know-how in the bedroom made you incredibly sexy to him. In fact, Ransom had even taken a few mental notes of things he’d learned during his weekend with you.
“I wonder what that little fuckhead Hunter is up to.” Ransom asked himself, needing an outlet for his irritation.
He had noticed that Hunter wasn’t at his desk that morning and so he stalked through the office to track him down. He didn’t notice Ransom coming down the hallway and was startled when Ransom cleared his throat at his desk.
“Hey, Hunter, how’s it going, buddy?” Ransom greeted with a fake smile on his face, “Have a good weekend?”
Hunter averted his hateful gaze and pretended to be busy working on his computer, "You know exactly how it went.” He gritted through his teeth, “What do you need, Ransom?”
“Need?” Ransom asked innocently as he leaned against Hunter’s desk, “I just wanted to check in to see how my future stepson was doing.”
Hunter let out a low growl and turned to glower at Ransom, “Don’t you fucking dare call me that again.”
Ransom hummed to himself as he took a piece of caramel from the bowl on Hunter’s desk and popped it into his mouth. He tossed the wrapper onto his keyboard as he looked at him with a devious glint in his eyes.
“You better get used to it, champ.” He chewed obnoxiously loud on purpose, “Mmmm this piece of caramel is not nearly as sweet as your mom. No way I’m fucking letting her go.”
Hunter stood up and put his hands on his desk to get in Ransom’s face, “That is disgusting. I’m gonna tell my grandpa you’re harassing me and what you’re doing with my mom!”
Ransom copied Hunter’s body language and smirked, “Oh yeah? You’re gonna tattle to your grandpa about your mom getting some quality dick? You that much of a little bitch?” He taunted, “You gonna go tew gwampa about mommy getting waid?” He mocked Hunter in a baby voice.
“You think she must be soooo…into you, don't you?" Hunter snickered, “Did she even ask you about getting dinner with my dad and Willa?”
Ransom furrowed his brow, “What dinner?”
Hunter scoffed at his response, “The dinner on Friday night he invited you both to. I guess she never bothered to ask you because you’re just the boy toy of the week. Dumbass fuckboy.”
Ransom’s eyes narrowed at Hunter in anger. You hadn’t invited him and after what his grandfather said that afternoon, this rubbed salt in the wound. And he sure as shit wasn’t going to let Hunter get any satisfaction out of it either.
“Ohhh, that dinner?” Ransom lied, “Yeah, we’re going to that.”
Hunter looked back at him in disbelief, “You’re going to dinner with my mom and dad and his girlfriend?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Like I said, I’m not going anywhere, you little fucker. And besides,” He said as he picked up another piece of candy, “I wanna meet your dad to see what kind of man made such a pussy.”
Ransom walked away, leaving Hunter’s mouth agape. He walked back into his office and pulled out his phone to text you.
Ransom: Looking forward to dinner with Richard Friday night :)
~~~
Ransom pulled up to the restaurant that you were meeting Richard and Willa at. The son of a bitch chose the upscale Italian place where he had proposed to you. It had been your restaurant as a couple and you knew he had chosen it for tonight’s dinner just to fuck with you.
You were also furious when Ransom texted you about agreeing to have dinner with Richard, and even more so when you found out who had told him about it in the first place. You were upset with him at first, but decided it was probably for the best for the interaction to happen sooner rather than later if he were up for it.
“Hey, this’ll be fun” Ransom assured you cockily with a devilish grin, “You get to show off your boy toy in front of your old ass ex. Plus, you look really fucking hot tonight.” He winked at you before getting out of the car to open your door.
You smiled and shook your head at him. He was right in his own way. Dinner didn’t have to be a hellish experience. If there was anything you were sure of, Ransom would be able to fuck with Richard right back.
“Ma’am,” The usual hostess greeted you with a warm smile, “Glad to see you back. Come this way.”
You became slightly anxious as you approached the table and Richard waved at you and Ransom. Richard stood and shook Ransom’s hand.
“Definitely an upgrade.” You mused to yourself as you looked at Ransom standing next to your ex.
“Richard. Willa.” You said before moving to take your seat. Before you could pull it out from the table, Ransom put his hand on the back of the chair to keep you from moving it.
“Can you give us a quick second, Rich?” Ransom politely said, “I need to have a quick chat with Y/N. We’ll be right back.”
You looked over at him confused as he gently grabbed your arm and led you to the bathrooms. He opened up one of the doors and pushed you inside. He was on you almost before the door closed. He grabbed you by your face and kissed you ravenously. You moaned into his mouth as his hands roamed your body. He pulled away, leaving you breathless as you watched him lick his puffy lips.
He abruptly grabbed you and spun you around to face the mirror. You placed your hands on either side of the sink to steady yourself when he placed his hand between your shoulder blades to bend you over. Your breath hitched as he hiked up your skirt and pulled down your already wet panties.
Ransom ran his hand gently over the curve of your ass and you rubbed your legs together for friction. Your heart pounded in your chest from anticipation and you bit your lower lip, waiting for what he was going to do next. Ransom looked down and groaned when he saw your glistening pussy just waiting for him. He licked one of his index fingers and slowly slid into you, making you whine as he slowly pumped it in and out.
“You want more?” He teased you as he continued to languidly stroke your inner walls, “You want me to fuck you in this bathroom like a dirty little slut?”
“Mhmm” You whined desperately and presented yourself to him even more, “Please.” You eked out.
“Please what?”
You let out a small growl in frustration and he pinched your ass hard in response, making you squeak.
“Please, daddy.”
You heard rustling behind you and Ransom undoing his belt quickly. You let out a sigh of relief when you heard his zipper and he kicked your legs apart. He chuckled at your eagerness as he slid the head of his cock through your dripping folds. Ransom suddenly slammed into you in one sharp thrust and you yelped as your body jerked forward.
You tilted your head back and let yourself relish in the pleasure you felt as Ransom massaged the sweet spot within you. The rhythmic sound of his thighs slapping against your ass could undoubtedly be heard if someone were to walk by and you weren’t trying to stifle your moans at all.
Ransom put one of his hands around the back of your neck to angle you so that you could see yourself in the mirror. Your focus turned to him as you watched him pound into you.
“Look at how fucking hot you look right now, baby.” He grunted as he roughly snapped his hips into you, “You look so good taking my fat cock like a good girl.”
You clenched around him listening to his lewd words and your legs started to shake, “Yes, daddy. Right there, please, daddy, please!”
He moved his hand down from your hip and moved it to your swollen bundle of nerves. He circled your clit and you let out a high pitched moan as your legs tensed when you neared the edge. He circled his finger faster and applied just enough pressure for you to hit your peak. Your arms turned to jello as your body quivered uncontrollably.
You heard Ransom hiss behind you as you clenched around him tightly, “Squeeze me just like that. Just like that.”
He grabbed you by your shoulders and took up a brutalizing pace to chase his own release. He snarled behind you and fucked into you harder than he ever had before. The pleasure of him being inside of you almost gave way to pain from the force of his frantic thrusts. You felt his cock twitch and he grabbed your shoulders tight enough to surely bruise them as he came inside of you.
He pulled you up and held you against him as he panted to catch his breath. You looked at yourself in the mirror and you were a blissed out cockdrunk mess. You smiled at the image of the two of you, especially how flushed Ransom’s face was and how messy his hair was. His forehead glistened from small drops of sweat. He turned your face towards him with one hand and gave you a sloppy claiming kiss.
Ransom pulled out when he began to soften and tucked himself away. He pulled your panties up for you and fixed your skirt. As he got himself together, he noticed you moving to fix your hair and makeup.
“Stop that.” He ordered you suddenly, tutting you as you turned around to look at him confused, “Leave it. I want Richard to see.”
Chapter 4
Taglist: @rededfoxy @thanatosfic @eralen @daniphantom1​ @rebekahdawkins @loki-lover23567 @po3ticb3auty @phildunphyisadilf
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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Ransom’s Revenge 2
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Relationship: Ransom Drysdale x MILF!Reader
Summary: Ransom hates his new summer intern Hunter and the feeling is mutual. Ransom decides to put Hunter in his place the worst way he knows how – dicking down Hunter’s mom.
A/N: This fic was supposed to be a oneshot, but you wanted more naughty Ransom and so here we are. This is a follow up to my submission for the Triple D Challenge aka “Dicked Down by a Divorcee”.
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of infidelity, some violence, Ransom being an asshole
Chapter 1
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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Ransom’s Revenge
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Relationship: Ransom Drysdale x MILF!Reader 
Summary: Ransom hates his new summer intern Hunter and the feeling is mutual. Ransom decides to put Hunter in his place the worst way he knows how – dicking down Hunter’s mom. 
A/N: This is my one shot for the Triple D Challenge aka “Dicked Down by a Divorcee” by @boxofbonesfic​ and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor
Warnings: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of infidelity, Ransom being an asshole
Keep reading
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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*·゚𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬
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𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Biker!Ari Levinson x naive!reader (biker x baker au)
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, size difference, 6’7” Ari, innocent!reader, soft!Ari, possessive behaviour, SMUT - minors DNI, p*ssyjob, size kink, innocence/ruined kink, daddy kink, panty sniffing, (so much) dirty talk, spitting, fingering (f), praise kink, degradation, dumbification, breeding kink, unprotected sex (p in v), squirting, creampie
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Months into your relationship with Ari, he finally indulges in his deepest desires—that are also his biggest-little fears. Based on this ask.
𝗪/𝗖 | 6.47K
𝗔/𝗡 | hi anon, thank you for being patient with this request, it's my first time writing for ari ! I scrapped the smut last night and rewrote it—this is so filthy, someone needs to shut biker!ari up. All mistakes are my own
˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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“Bear, be quiet.” You giggle, crumbling beneath his weight as he leans on you, “Ah! Walk, Ari!”
The big, burly man growls, rubbing his nose on your head. “Mhm, you smell like sugar cream…” His hand drags along the wall as you stumble further down the hall, and he’s hanging off you like a limp sack of muscles and hair.
“I—hold on,” you reach into the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing out his keys. Silver shines in the dim lights, the handmade beaded bracelet hanging from the ring, a carefully chosen pattern of blue, pink and lilac—not purple, lilac is prettier, Ari told you. The gift was too small for his wrist, so he added it to his keys instead.
Although, you wish you thought about sizing before making it because seeing the usually stone-cold and silent biker wearing a cute beaded bracelet would be amusing.
Ari was smooth, observant and worldly-wise, clad in leather and denim, with a chain around his neck and rings on his hands if it were a special occasion. That was how everyone knew him. To you, he was the sharp and collected co-owner of the mechanic shop across the street who never seemed to take his lunch break.
You were kind, sensitive and sincere and started to sneak in bundles of neatly packaged freshly baked goods to leave them on the counter whenever he went into his office. Far too shy and nervous to say a single word to the domineering biker.
This went on for weeks, and you started leaving more treats for the rest of the bikers employed at Fast Lane Mechanics. Ari and his friends were getting spoiled by the little angel from the bakery, filling up on the pastries from The Snickerdoodle.
Then one day, Ari caught you. You got startled and accidentally walked right into the wall during your abrupt escape—the biker proceeded to tuck you into his office until you calmed down.
That was months ago, and you’ve been dating ever since. To be fair, you were very hesitant to say yes because of your lack of experience with relationships. But Ari, ever the gentleman, has worshiped the ground you walk on and your existence—even if it goes unnoticed by you, as most things tend to do.
“Are you going to give me your sugar cream?”
You struggle to unlock his apartment door, oblivious to the growing tent in Ari’s jeans. “Uh…the bake sale is tomorrow, but I don’t mind giving my boyfriend a free treat.”
The door swings open, slamming into the wall as you cringe. Stepping into the dark living room and kicking the door shut, you wobble towards the bedroom. Ari’s chin bumps against the top of your head as he showers you in kisses.
“Wasn’t talkin’ about that cream.”
“Hm?” You look up at him, finally making it to his bedroom and attempting to set him on the bed, but he clings to you. You collapse onto his chest with a squeak, straddling his hips.
“I missed you today, angel,” Ari smirks, dark hair fanning across the sheets like a halo. He easily moves you until you’re seated on his bulge.
Your eyes widen and you gulp nervously, intimidated by the size. “I-I missed you too…”
“I like your new skirt, it‘s cute.” He pinches the flimsy fabric before sliding his hands up your thighs. “I wish I stopped by the bakery today, I could’ve seen you in your little apron and that headband with the bow. Always so fuckin’ adorable in your uniform.”
You giggle and try to push him away, “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome, covered in grease and those work jeans—ah!” You’re flipped over, crushed under his weight. A stream of laughter flows from you as his fingers dig into your sides, your legs and arms flailing as he tickles you relentlessly.
Ari’s breath catches in his throat, his hands freeze and his eyes fall between your thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, revealing the cotton panties that cup your mound.
The alcohol in Ari’s system has him thinking with a one-track mind, drunk off the memory of a past date that ended with his cock sliding along your wet cunt. The sweetest moans poured from your lips as he moved you how he wanted with ease. Firmly seating you on his bare length and gripping your thighs, watching your cream coat him.
He remembers smelling you on his beard when he dropped you off at home.
You had requested to take things slow—and it’s been absolutely perfect, Ari didn’t mind that it took over three weeks to kiss, and even longer to do some over-clothes touching.
Although, this was utter torture. Now, Ari must restrain from devouring you like a beast. He’s fingered you and rubbed his dick against your folds, but he’s only ever been inside with the tip and that was after spending a good thirty minutes opening you up.
You’re smaller than him and extremely more delicate than his 6’7” beefy tower of muscle and meat.
Worst of all, you’re unaware of the effect you have on him. Teasing him with your gentle touches and soft-spoken words, your compassion and your body striking him to the core. Nearly begging him to just lift you up and carry you wherever he wants. To hide you away from the rest of the big, wide world.
As Ari’s hand draws closer to your heat, you swiftly escape from under him. With your ass in the air, you crawl off the bed and stand on solid ground again. “You deserve a timeout for that, mister.” You point a finger.
God, he loves you, but he’s not drunk enough to let that slip. You love him too and similarly, you need a drink to get that confidence to say it—you were just too damn shy.
“Hm, how about you just give me a kiss instead?”
Not only are you physically weaker than the biker, but you’re awfully vulnerable to that deep drawl and those light blue eyes, his dominant nature pulls you toward him like a magnet. Ari cups your cheeks, bringing you in an uncoordinated but tender kiss. It goes from gentle pecks to his tongue slipping between your lips. His skilled digits trail up your legs and under your skirt again.
“Bear, you’re so handsy…” You squirm, ignoring the dampness in your panties because there are more pressing matters at hand. As the clock strikes midnight, you know that waking up in the morning will be a pain.
Dropping to your knees, you shiver as his warmth crawls up your arms and he tugs on the collar of your shirt. As you unbuckle his belt and start dragging his pants down, Ari closes his eyes in anticipation, awaiting the bliss that comes with your lips around his cock. Blood rushes through his veins as he remembers the first time you sucked him off, all innocent and nervous—is this okay? You’re so big… I don’t know how I’ll fit you in my mouth.
That ecstasy turns into confusion when he doesn’t feel you rub over his length because that was the first rule he gave you about blowing him. He loved feeling your hand over his clothed cock, almost as much as he loved watching you choke on his fat girth.
And you were always a good girl and a good listener.
Ari sits up, suddenly very sober and aware.
“There,” you lean back on your feet, beaming up at him. So small, delicate between his thick, toned thighs, “now you can sleep all nice and comfy. Jeans aren’t good pyjamas.”
If possible, his heart grows bigger to offer even more affection for you. “I’m going to marry you one day.” Ari flops on his back, his dick shamelessly straining his boxers. “I already told the guys, Curtis and Bucky were arguing about who should be my best man.”
Your eyes fall to the bulge. And unfortunately, you can’t hide from your brain that replays those sinful events like a movie, Ari’s filthy words playing in your ears, his rough hands holding you so tightly. You whimper, subconsciously clenching your thighs before your head snaps up, “You’re drunk, Ari. You don’t mean that.” You’ve only been dating for a few months, too early to meet extended family, let alone, get married.
“Really? Go check my nightstand.”
You shoot up and process his words, then you eagerly start crossing the room but Ari grabs your wrist. He pulls you to stand between his legs, flashing you a knowing smile, “Aw baby, you want to be my wife already?” He chuckles, soft blue eyes gleaming, “There’s no ring—yet. I still haven’t measured your finger.”
Your heart settles as yet echoes in your head, you want to hide away, “Y-You’re so drunk…”
His fellow biker friends had called you when Ari was too intoxicated to get home by himself, they offered to call him a cab, but you were still at the bakery preparing for tomorrow’s bake sale. So, you swung by the bar, pulling up along the row of big shiny bikes as the handsome men hauled your boyfriend into the passenger seat.
To others, Ari was fairly quiet, only speaking when his voice was needed yet he wasn’t shy by any means. More of a silent observer with a searing gaze that could be felt through the skeleton to the soul. Your bones were familiar with that burn, while your inner thighs were still healing from his beard after he ate you out yesterday.
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“God, I hate that…”
“Hate what, bear?”
“Your fuckin’ seat—always gotta put it back when I’m drivin’ this tiny bug.”
You giggle, reaching over to unbuckle his seatbelt. “It’s because you’re a giant.”
Ari sighs to himself, tapping his pen on the desk as last night’s events repeat in his mind. He doesn’t know if he should feel humiliated over his behaviour or frustrated—both sexually and generally—over you.
It wasn’t a ring in his nightstand, it was a key to his apartment, personalized with your favourite colours. He’s relieved you didn’t open the drawer, perhaps it was too early to give you a key to his place, but he adored you so deeply.
He’s dreamt of the things you could potentially do together if you had a key—or, better yet, lived with him—surprising you with breakfast in bed, spending the weekends lounging on the couch or in the kitchen where you’d attempt to teach him recipes. He can imagine ordering-in dinner together only to fill up on flawless baked goods that you’d make, dressed in his clothes with your apron, just like the little angel you are.
Domestic, soft things that he’s never fantasized about in his life.
As always, on the tail of those wishes are his fears. In the grand scheme of things, they’re insignificant and shouldn’t matter, especially since you’ve displayed a fondness for it. Those small concerns wrap around Ari’s mouth and keep him from ravaging you like a wild animal, keeping him from diving headfirst into his deepest desires.
His little fears aren’t things like missing payments, losing the shop or his friends, not even wrecking his prized bike. Those are reasonable worries that could greatly impact his life, but they’re different from his tiny, truly comical concerns. Ari’s ridiculous little fears revolve around you. With you being so much smaller than him, graceful and pure in every sense, his biggest-little fear was hurting delicate you.
Of course, he’d never intentionally harm you—you’re the most gentle bear, Ari—but your size difference was a touchy subject for him. He doesn’t know how much longer he can control himself, one wrong move and he’ll wreak you wherever you stand. And this time, it will go the way in.
Why did you have to be so irresistible?
It’s concerning how hard and fast Ari has fallen for your clumsy and sugary charm. He loves you yet, he feels guilty about tainting you. Colouring your blank pages with his shades of sin in bruises and bite marks, but his sick hunger to ruin you were stronger than that remorse.
He inhales sharply, your voice echoing in his head—that first night, you called him daddy, only to never repeat it, even when you did things. He doesn’t think you noticed either. Daddy, it was a breathy gasp as your juices poured out, covering his thick, heavy cock.
Ari is tempted to leave the shop early just to get off with the thought of you.
You aren’t safe from him. Your innocence, your body and your mind aren’t sheltered from him, and he’s already tarnished the thought of you. In his head, you’re withering on a bed, covered in his saliva and seed, with marks sitting pretty on your softest parts.
It’d be incredibly easy to pick you up and fuck you anywhere, on the desk, against the wall, on his bike. He foggily recalls having you to ride his face after one date—oh no, he talked about your sex life with his friends too, that included voicing all of his pent-up frustration too.
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“—No, she definitely wants that.” Bucky sips his beer.
“How do you know that?” Ari huffs, tipsy enough to spill his concerns to his best friends. He doesn’t remember much of what he said, but it was about your size difference and his influence on your purity.
Across the table, Steve agrees. “You can just tell.”
Curtis nods. “It’s when she looks up at you like she’s got other things in mind, and she bites her lip. I’ve seen her stare at your arms, she clenches her thighs and squirms, just waiting for you to pick her up—”
Ari frowns, “—All right, that’s enough.”
Curtis raises his arms, his beanie is drawn low. “I’m just saying… you’re scared of nothing, you should be thankful that she gets off on your size difference too.”
“I know.” Ari elbows him, “stay the hell away, jerk.”
The man scoffs, “I’ve got my eyes set on that one.” He smirks as the beautiful waitress swings by and picks up their glasses for another refill. “Hey baby, you come here often?”
The rest of the bikers groan as the woman chortles, shoving his shoulder. “I work here, you dummy.”
Curtis smirks, bringing his girl in for a quick kiss. “Mhm, and your shift is almost done. I’m staying here for a little longer, but I’ll bring home your favourite take-out.”
“Are you trying to get out of changing the cat litter?”
“I’m trying to love up on my lady, is that a crime?”
The young woman prys his fingers from her hip, “This is still my workplace so keep those hands to yourself.” She turns to Ari, “How’s your girl? I’ve heard folks talking about the bake sale all day.”
He’s about to answer, but Bucky interrupts. “Ari wants to devour her but he’s scared because she’s so small compared to him—”
“—everyone is.”
“—but it’s obvious she wants him to, she just doesn’t know it.”
A grin plays on the waitress’s lips. “Well, this is juicy.”
“We’re trying to make him go for it. You know they’ve only done pussyjobs?”
Ari’s jaw drops as he smacks the back of Curtis’ head, “fuckin’ loudmouth, and that’s not true.”
“Oh, right, sorry—Ari’s only ever fit the tip in.” The other men burst into giggles while Ari whacks Curtis again.
The woman stifles her laughter, ignoring her boyfriend’s curses. “She’s as innocent as they get and trust me, a girl like her doesn’t know unless you spell it out for her. And I’ve seen her with you, Ari, she certainly has the same interests as you.”
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Most people look up to the biker because he stands at 6’7”. Although, your size difference runs much deeper than that.
He’s impartial and stern, his voice is loud, clear and commanding, his choice of words is well-thought-out and highly valued. A tall and sturdy stature like a skyscraper, his thick and powerful muscles are well-earned with his consistent gym sessions.
On the other hand, you’re soft-spoken, pristine and shy. Terribly naive with meeting new people and seemingly normal social interactions, including sexual innuendos. Clad in skirts and dresses of pastel shades with knee highs, always smelling sweet with the most adorable smile.
Ari is wide and confident, as deep and intriguing as the sea. He can be as cold as the deepest trenches, harbouring secrets that will never see the light of day. And, you're nothing like that. You don’t have the ability to be cold or bitter, you were made as soft and sweet as the baked goods at The Snickerdoodle. Most importantly, you had the power to turn the strict biker into a pile of flirtatious, sincere adoration and gentle caresses with a single glance.
Ari can’t remember the last time he was this invested in a relationship—or a person.
In the dictionary, there would be a picture of you under the words soft and sinless. And, under smitten, would be a photograph of a lovesick Ari with a bright blush erupting under his beard.
Soon enough, Ari starts working again. Going over the documents on his desk, marking things to bring up with the rest of the guys as the hours fly by. Then, Curtis bursts through the office door with grease on his hands and arms, “Hey, that guy is back.”
Ari’s face twists in confusion, “What?”
“That guy who flirts with your girl.”
The biker stiffens, narrowed gaze set on his friend. If this wasn’t a sign, he didn’t know what was.
Curtis scratches his beard as a suspicion arises about what’s going through Ari’s mind. He decides to add a little more fuel to the fire. “Yeah, he’s been across the street for a while and has snatched up each sample from the bake sale at least twice.”
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It happened all too fast for you to process.
First, you’re chatting happily with a regular customer, answering his strangely daft questions between packaging orders for the bake sale. Then, the little bell rings from above the door and heavy footsteps walk up to the counter before a wall of shadows appears.
If you were paying attention, you would’ve seen Ari and the guys push the man out of the way. As they line up along the counter by the display, shoulder to shoulder with threatening glares that send the man rushing out.
“All of it? Are you sure?”
Ari nods, “Steve doesn’t have anything for the party at the community centre—even though he said he would. Plus, the guys and I haven’t had lunch yet.” He plucks a cupcake from a platter, taking a large bite and getting icing in his beard. “Tastes delicious, angel, you bake any maple pecan danishes?”
Still overwhelmed by him buying the entire bakesale stock, you fumble over your words. “Uh-huh… back—they’re in the back.” You answer breathlessly. “Mrs. Martha is going to have a heart attack.”
That wasn’t completely wrong—although it would have been more accurate if you added: “and I.”
Once Ari’s massive order was packaged and divided among the bikers, Mrs. Martha, the owner of the bakery, gave you the rest of the day off. You accepted Ari’s offer of a ride home on his motorcycle and clung to him like a koala until he pulled up to his apartment.
Those events have led to you splayed out on his bed. Clothes in a haphazard trail from the front door to his bedroom, your panties clenched in his fist as he brings them to his nose.
“Bear, I—” you shuffle backwards as he kneels on the mattress, yanking your ankles until you’re flat on your back. Then, he’s on top of you, his heated gaze set on you as your cotton panties hang from between his teeth.
“Hm?” He suckles the gusset, groaning lowly at your taste.
You whimper as his clothed length presses against your heat, snug between your folds as he pulls you closer. “Uh, what’s going on—” You’re cut off by a cry as Ari starts moving, slowly grinding against your cunt.
Instantly, his boxers are soaked with you, it seeps through the fabric to his cock, and releases the desire he’s kept locked behind iron bars. It’s free and starving and making him shameless.
“You’re so good, angel, you know that?” Your panties land on the bed and Ari sinks lower until his lips meet your neck. His beard tickles you between his kisses, “Always so polite—too polite, and so innocent.”
You melt into the sheets, and your legs wrap around his hips as he thrusts against your cunt. He murmurs against your skin in a gravelly tone, “You don’t even notice when a man is flirting with you.”
“Huh?” You gasp.
“It’s okay, I’m not upset with you. I know you can’t think for yourself. Such a sweet, beautiful girl, so neglectful and oblivious—that’s why you need me.” He reaches down, pulling out his throbbing dick and sliding between your creamy petals, he growls at the feeling of your warmth, “Just a dumb baby brain. You need daddy to think for you, huh?”
You don’t have a chance to feel mortified because Ari leans back, slapping the fat tip on your button, sloppily tracing around your hole.
“C’mon, angel, say it. You said it that first night, but you were too cockdrunk to notice. Can’t think when my dick is on your pussy, yeah? Look at us.” He demands, leaning forward so his shaft is on your tummy.
He’s huge and heavy, his balls against your centre as he trails the wet head along your skin, marking you. He’s so big that you’re a little uneasy about the size difference, the head of his length lying on your belly, showing you exactly how deep he can reach inside you. His thumb dips into your mouth, “my stupid baby can’t speak either?”
You nod dumbly and suck on his finger, your mind drifts away as the second's tick by. Ari coos, grabbing your chin and bringing you up, he kisses you messily. Giving in to his darkness, and becoming the beast he was once terrified to be.
As you fall back onto the mattress, your head sinks into the pillows and he spits down where you meet. Watching you carefully, “You’re so pretty, angel.” He groans, swinging your legs over his shoulders, further spreading you open. Grasping his thick base, he rubs the bulbous tip on your folds, coating himself in your slick as lewd noises fill the room.
“You hear that? You’re so wet, just a little mess for daddy. Need me inside your tight pussy, huh? Stretch this little fuckhole, make you mine.”
You clench, you’re at his mercy, cradled in the palm of his rough hands, vulnerable and taken with every word that pours from his lips.
“Want my cock baby? You’ve never let me inside and that’s not very nice, is it?” He’s been starved for far too long and looking down at you whining as his shaft slides through your folds, drenched in your sweetness.
This doesn’t feed Ari’s desire, he needs to be inside you, splitting you open. He has an appetite that will only be suffixed by ruining you.
“Daddy, ah, p-please,” you whine, weakly gripping his built arms. “Want it, please, please.”
“That’s a good girl, using those manners. Now, watch me, baby.” He commands softly, angling your face until your eyes fall to your connected centres. He’s shiny with your juices, his fat tip sitting heavily at your entrance, he inches in and groans appreciatively, “that’s it, fuck, open up for me.” His thumb lands on your clit, applying delicate pressure.
“I-I’m trying, daddy.” You gasp, thighs threatening to close. Falling into a deep abyss of trust and pleasure, “you’re t-too big…can’t—” Your poor cunt couldn’t take the head, you can’t imagine how the rest will fit.
Ari grinds his teeth, he knows he should probably grab some lube to be safe, even though he can’t wait anymore. You were tighter than he imagined. He wants to be careful and not accidentally hurt you, but he does want to see you destroyed, so he tries once more.
Your hole refuses to take him again, and he pulls away—but you latch onto him. “N-No, don’t go, daddy.”
“I need to get lube—”
“Don’t, please… can’t wait anymore.” You beg, lips swollen from his kisses. “Want you so bad, please—”
“Okay, okay,” he shuffles back between your legs, growling at your weepy hole, begging for him. “I’ll stay, but you’ll need to help daddy, okay?”
Your brows furrow, “How?”
Then, he does something that catches you off guard. Slipping fingers into your mouth, forcing you to slobber and gag on the digits like it’s his shaft. If it were possible, Ari gets harder at the sight, his cock throbbing between his thighs as he pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.
“Touch yourself with my fingers, baby. Open that tight cunt for me.”
Hesitantly, you bring his hand to your heat. Softly moaning as you move his hand along your pussy, covering yourself in your saliva and using him. You cry out, slipping one of his thick, long fingers into you, and Ari takes charge once more.
He spits down on your core, scissoring two fingers into you. Taking you apart in a matter of moments, speaking the most filthy words to bring you over the edge. Your lack of experience is evident through your quick release and loud squeals.
Ari manhandles you again, sliding a pillow under your back to prop up your lower half. His shaft returns to your creamy hole, slipping in with ease. “That’s it, take my cock. You’re so little compared to me, sweetheart. I was scared of hurting you.”
You clench as he draws back, then forward again. His thick girth stretches you wide, barely halfway before you cry out. “Daddy! Too big, I can’t—”
“You can, angel.” Ari gently drops your legs, capturing your lips in his. He kisses away that wrinkle in your forehead, distracting you with his tongue until he’s all the way in. He’s balls deep, his pubic hair brushing your nub. “See? My little dumb baby, worried for nothing.”
You never thought you’d be into this, but it’s strumming you just right. Your vision goes blurry as he hits so deep. Ari hooks one of your knees over his shoulder, keeping you trapped under his beefy frame and locked on his girth.
“I’m going to fill you up. Cum in this little cunt, watch it pour out and fuck you again until you can’t take anymore.” He chuckles darkly as you gasp for air, “Even though it seems like you can’t take anymore right now—you're milking my dick already, baby?” He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging the nub with his teeth, groping your other breast.
You’re already so damn sensitive and arch into his touch. “Ah, Ari!”
“Shh,” he releases your tit with a lewd pop, his eyebrows knitted tightly as you clench around him, “don’t open that mouth unless you’re going to call me daddy.”
“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” You weep.
“That’s my girl.” He starts pumping slowly, letting you feel every vein along your pulsating walls. From tip to base, he feeds your tight hole. “Taking my dick so good—even fucking yourself with my fingers? So good at doing what you're told.”
You whimper, gnawing on your bottom lip as he speeds up. High-pitched uh’s are pushed from your body with every thrust, the tip of his dick ramming into your cervix. You’re so hot and messy already, a mixture of yours and his saliva, and your slick creating a ring around his fat base.
Ari grunts, eyes flickering between your weepy hole and your blissed-out face, with your eyes rolled back and jaw slack. He can’t decide which is more obscene, especially with the drool hanging out the corner of your mouth, dripping onto the pillow.
He’s just started and he can see every thought flying out of your head, your entire body is too full for anything but him. His guttural groans and wandering hands grip your body, leaving finger-shaped indents in their wake. His big cock spreads you wide, a euphoric burn blooming in your little pussy as your juices spill out. You can barely remember your own name.
He kisses you, it’s soft in contrast to his length spearing you open. His tongue slips into your mouth, massaging yours as he swallows your moans. When he touches your hole, you accidentally bite his lip. Ari hisses, “Ow.”
“...You just t-touched me down there.”
Down there—he almost laughs at your choice of words. So pure, even when he’s fucking you one inch from your life.
“I touched your pussy. My dick has been in your mouth before, I know you can say pussy.” He smirks, tracing over your stretched hole to your clit, rubbing in hard circles as you cry out, trying to push him away. You’re too weak and eventually give up, letting him abuse your tingling button.
“Can’t believe you haven’t let me fuck you yet. You knew I’d ruin you, but that’s what you want, huh?” He pounds into you, your body moving up the bed with the sheer force, “Don’t you feel fucking stupid, baby? Oh, sorry—you’re already stupid, yeah? Say it.”
You gulp and nod, pathetically whimpering. “‘m d-dumb, daddy…”
“Yeah, you are, and so fucking creamy,” Ari growls, sweeping his fingers through your folds, gathering your arousal before slipping it to his mouth. His hips unrelenting, dirty sounds filling the room. The headboard even bangs on the wall. “You want a taste, angel?”
“Ah, I-I don’t know…” Your toes curl as he touches your sensitive cunt, then brings his digits to your face. Your mouth falls open in a moan as he rams into your sweet spot, that familiar electricity streaming through your body.
Ari is tempted to shove your taste down your throat, but he’ll play nice, for now anyway. “You’re close again, huh? Then c’mon, just a little bit of a taste. Don’t you want to be my good girl and cum?” He traces your lips.
You do. You want to be his best girl, his angel.
When you nod, Ari doesn’t waste any time. He leans over you, pelvic bone pressing against your clit as his dick spears deeper. You squirm, full and cockdrunk as he rubs his fingers on your tongue, slapping your thigh when you close your lips.
“Keep your mouth open.” His spit lands on your tongue and he sickly smears your tastebuds with your cream and his saliva. “Now, close it and swallow. That’s a good little girl, so good for daddy.”
Your high strikes so abruptly, you don’t expect it. Your juices squirt out all over Ari’s length and his pelvis. His thickness continues to invade your convulsing walls, almost brutally but you take it, gasping around his fingers as your mind goes foggy.
After one particularly hard thrust into your sore cunt, you gag on his fingers, eyes watering as he touches the back of your throat. “Oh, why the tears, baby? You got to cum and made a stupid mess, what’s wrong?” He taunts.
Still floaty from your orgasm, you attempt to answer, but all you can manage are wet choking noises.
“It’s okay, daddy knows what you need.” He grits his teeth and slaps his dick on your nub, the noises making your face heat before he sinks back in. Swinging your other leg over his shoulder, “Look—that’s because you’re so small for my cock, feel me all in your guts, baby?”
There's a faint bulge appearing in your lower belly every time he drives forward. You can’t help but hide your face, you don’t know why.
It’s probably because his filthiness is destroying you.
“Let me see you,” Ari pulls your hands from your face, interlocking your fingers on either side of your head. The pillow sinks, your quiet gasps flowing into the air, “Don’t you ever hide from me, angel. Ever.”
You obey but avert your eyes to his tensing muscles under his flushed skin. He’s ragged and husky, dark hair dusts over his chest and prominent pecs, trailing down his abs to the neatly trimmed pubic hair. You feel so little as he looms over you, swatting your ass before grabbing your breasts, loud grunts flowing over your mewls.
He could crush you—and why did that turn the both of you on?
He grabs your hips, moving you on his cock like a doll. “Look at that tight pussy taking me, such a good girl. Letting daddy fuck your brains out, ruin this little cunt, you’re a dream, sugar.”
You fist the bedsheets, your mouth falling open as he grinds deeply, a hot feeling building in your stomach.
“You want me to put a baby in you? Get you filled up until you’re leaking and crying like a dumb baby.” Ari grunts, fingers bruising your skin, “Stupid, stupid girl—I don’t even have a condom on, you know that? Yeah, and I bet you love it.”
You do—and you love him, you try to say it but all oxygen is yanked from your chest as realization dawns, you aren’t on contraceptives and he knows that too, because you told him.
Ari works your body, unable to stop thinking of you plump and pregnant with his baby. He wants that, he wants you as long as you’ll have him, and hopefully, it’s forever.
His girth splits you open, reducing you to a submissive mess. “For someone so innocent, you sure want to be knocked up, huh? That’s why you’re dripping down my cock. Want me to put a baby in you—fuck, let everyone see you full of me and my baby. They’ll know you’re mine.”
You’re scared, but not because of the possibility of getting pregnant, but because Ari seems to know all your kinks before you do. As your head bobs roughly, your hands have a mind of their own and land on his abs, pushing him away.
Ari tsks, swatting you away, his stomach tightens, “Don’t do that.” Imagining you carrying his big baby was feeding a different desire, the thought of how full you’d be—he can’t contain himself. “You want this—want my cum in you sweet pussy, want daddy to fill you up, yeah?”
“I-I do. Want your, ah, baby!”
“Then, take my dick, sweetheart and let daddy breed your tiny fuckhole.” His dirty words are draped in a gentle tone. He spits but misses your mouth, it lands on your hot cheek. “What a dumb messy girl.”
You're ruined under him, sweaty and hiccuping moans. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you harder, ramming into your sweet spot. You can't process anything over the squelching noises or the headboard slamming into the wall. He’s so big inside you, but it hurts so good that you never want him to stop.
Your walls are heaven around him, sucking him so tightly he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last. He follows your gaze to your belly, and you squeak when he grabs your hand, pressing your palm to the bulge.
“Feel me right here, baby? You feel daddy’s dick. This little fuckhole could barely take my fingers before, now look at you—taking my cock so good, and begging for my cum.”
You helplessly blubber, struggling to take his thrusts as they get harder, faster.
“You were made for me, huh? And you’re close already?” Ari coos, “mhm, reminds me of our first time, remember that?”
Of course, you do. You’d never forget it. He was passionate and gentle, still dominant yet sweet. Taking you apart with his fingers until you soaked your panties, then he flattened you on the couch, mouthing against your underwear until you nearly cried. Then, he tore the cotton off and pushed his shaft between your folds until he covered your tummy in his seed. Now, he’s finally fucking your tight hole, ruining you for any other man—and your high hits like a wave.
Ari groans, cursing lowly as you squeeze around him, begging for his cum. Without stopping, he lifts your bottom half completely and you squirt all over him, even reaching his heaving chest. Your core suffocates him as he rubs your nub, prolonging your high. “That’s it, fuck, soak me, sweetheart.”
You’re so overwhelmed that you don’t register Ari falling over you. Covering you in his mass, grinding sinfully into your spasming cunt and filling you to the brim. His cum paints your walls white, pumping you full. He claims you, pressing you into the mattress as the air is yanked from your chest.
In utter pleasure, Ari rocks into you with abandon, spurred on by your cries and your nails digging into his shoulders as his pelvis rubs your humming clit. “Give me a baby, angel. That’s it, take daddy’s cum in your little pussy—fucking take it.”
A baby—this man was going to be the death of you in the best way.
His warmth spreads within you, leaking out from around his throbbing girth as his hips slow to a stop. You soften to quiet whimpers, nuzzling into his neck in a daze.
The next time you open your eyes, you’re in his bathtub and curled in his lap. The water is soothing, so is the gentle cloth running over your back and shoulders. Only then do you notice Ari is humming, filling the quiet.
“Bear?”
He chuckles deeply, his wet hand cups your head, “Awake now, angel? Are you okay?” His chest vibrates against your face.
“Mhm, tired.” You sink into the comfort, somehow drifting away again. “Never done anything like that…”
“Me too,” He pecks the side of your head, easily turning you around to wash your other side. A silence takes over again, your head lolling to the side as your eyes flutter shut. Ari’s heart swells, those three words on the tip of his tongue. Say it—he tells himself, “You can sleep again, I’ll bring you to bed.”
“Okay, daddy.” You yawn, the water and his presence envelope you. “Good night…”
It’s now or never—well, not never, more like just until you wake up again, but Ari can’t wait another moment. The words spew out of his mouth in one breath. “I love you, angel.”
Your only reply is a quiet, “luh you.”
Ari knows you’re probably delirious. When you gain consciousness in a few hours, you’ll be mortified over your response to his declaration. At least he’ll be there to comfort you and soothe any other worries you have, just like you have for him.
All fears, little and big.
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𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I've always wanted to write a biker au and just had to add some other special characters hehe, also I'm really happy to fill this request for ari.
Thank you for reading ! I'd love to hear your thoughts/feedback !!
follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist.
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.
8K notes ¡ View notes
myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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。°❀ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞 (𝟐/𝟓)
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𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Steve Rogers x feral!reader (enhanced!reader)
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | 6’6” Steve, feral behaviour/feral!reader, fluff, angst, size difference, manhandling, touch starved!reader, clueless!reader, secondhand embarrassment, mentions of Pietro's death (I'm sorry), mentions of human an accident/experimentation, loads of exposition
𝗪/𝗖 | 6.6K
𝗔/𝗡 | well it's been a while !! this series is now going to be 5 parts, unless I bump it up to 6. and Pietro is not in this verse (anymore), I’m sorry everyone. Also, the Maximoffs were 10 when they were with Hydra. Reminder: I’m twisting some MCU canons to fit this storyline. all mistakes are my own.
Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series!˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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The silence draws on, making everyone shift uncomfortably.
Wanda is twirling a pen, scribbling on a sheet of paper, her green eyes locked on the table. Bucky is similar, tense and anxious, and without his metal arm. He looks up and locks eyes with Steve who quirks a brow in a silent question. Bucky just shakes his head, slumping in his seat.
When the doors swing open, Tony struts in, with Fury and Maria on his tail. The two men are carrying stacks of folders while Maria sets down a tablet. She taps on the screen as the lights dim and at the front of the room, the glass turns see-through, the black film disappearing as it reveals you. Perched in the plastic chair with your knees to your chest. A blanket around your skin is clean, your eyes are shut, and head lolled to the side.
Steve’s enhanced vision allows him to see the faint swelling of your eyes, and just like that, he’s reminded of your insistent crying when the doctors took you away.
“Say something, please.” It was a simple request to bystanders, but to the both of you, it was much larger than that.
You try and open your mouth, but another glance at the several people surrounding you, and you burrow in his chest again. Shyly hiding away.
Steve sighs softly, brushing a hand over your head. “She can actually speak very well.”
“Regardless, you have to wait outside, Captain Rogers.” The doctor steps back, watching Steve set you on the examination table. The tall blond releases your death grip from his shirt, with a touch as gentle as clouds. “She seems—odd, uh, will we need any sedatives?”
“No.” Steve denies firmly, keeping composure even though he wants to demand another doctor, preferably one who would allow him to stay with you, and not dare ask about sedating you. He cups your face, his heart aches as a fresh wave of tears stream from your eyes, “Sweet girl, I’ll be right at the door, okay?”
Your lips form a word, please, but no sound comes out.
“We can’t leave the door open, Captain.”
Steve presses his forehead to yours, acknowledging the slew of nurses with various equipment lingering across the room. “I’ll be outside in the hallway, even though you can’t see me, I’ll be there.”
Again, that could be nothing to observers, but to Steve, it was far more intimate. Woven into his will, along with the word always.
“How is she?” Steve questions. He grips the arms of the seat to keep from walking right up to the glass, the concern draped in a magnetic force pulling him towards you. “Is she all right? Healthy?”
“She’s fine—great actually.”
“Tests for all diseases and health conditions came back negative. Her fingerprints and DNA haven’t matched anyone in our system, facial recognition too—even altering her features to predict her appearance years ago, there was nothing.” Maria adds, her sophisticated demeanour slipping away as she glances at you.
“She basically doesn’t exist—to us, to the outside world, but can’t say the same for Hydra. Since most of their documents are encrypted, Wanda was able to share some things she remembers to fill a few of the gaps.” Fury concludes, walking around the table and handing out the folders.
“She’s sitting right there, can’t she hear us talking about her?” Clint quips, seemingly the only one trying to lift the gloomy spirits.
“Well, not right now. And she, ladies and gentlemen, is as close to a ghost you’ll ever see.” Tony pipes, “If you count ghosts as feral, young, and pretty women.” He finishes his trip around the table and takes the tablet from Maria.
The lights in the interrogation room brighten as your head snaps up. Your eyes dart across the small table as you tighten the blanket over your shoulders with gloved hands.
“And now she can see and hear us. Wave, everyone.”
Awkwardly, everyone lifts their hands in greeting and offers you a strained smile while you nearly tuck into yourself again, but then you see Steve.
He sighs in relief when you perk up and your solemn expression lifts, “If Bambi is okay, then–”
“Bambi?” Sam and Bucky say in unison. “That’s her name?” Sam asks.
“The folders so graciously handed out are not just for decoration or because we want to be fancy.” Tony is quick to answer. “We don’t know her name and she hasn’t spoken to anyone since she arrived.” He nods towards the supersoldier, “And, now, feel free to tell me if I’m wrong but is she called Bambi because you found her in the forest, she’s clumsy like a fawn, and eats strictly plants and berries?”
The blond opens his mouth, then shuts it again before nodding. “Pretty much.”
Tony grins, “Thus, she is literally Bambi. Frankly, there is no other name that would fit her.”
Bruce agrees from his seat at the front of the table, glancing up from the manila folder in his hands. “Until we figure out her name, she can be Bambi.”
“And it wouldn’t be very kind to call her the subject. Even though I’m a genius and have a vast vocabulary, science talk around vulnerable people or people who don’t know what I'm saying makes me uncomfortable, even if it’s just two words.”
“That’s specific,” Clint says.
“Ah, specific—distinct, peculiar, particular, specified—”
“—Bam-bi.” It’s spoken so softly that Steve, even with his heightened senses, has to strain his ears to hear it. All eyes zero on you through the glass. Twiddling your fingers, your gaze shifts between everyone’s, from Natasha, Wanda, and Clint then Steve. Sam, Bucky, then Steve again. And finally, Bruce, Fury, Maria and Tony, only for your eyes to land on Steve a second later. “Sad, scared…” You repeat, slightly louder this time.
Steve stands so fast, his chair bangs against the wall and leaves a dent.
“Now hold on, Rogers. We haven’t even started.” Fury’s gaze hardens, “Sit down, that’s an order.”
There’s an awful weight hanging in the air, a piping hot attitude on the tip of Steve’s tongue, I don’t take orders from you or anyone else—he wants to say it, but several headshakes from his friends make him surrender.
You gnaw on your lip, curiously watching Steve retrieve his chair and sink into it again. His posture is rigid, and his fists clenched on the table. He’s not coming? You wonder, picking at the cotton gloves the nurses made you wear. They weren’t mean or cold, but they were wary. You didn’t blame them, with your memory loss and your uncontrollable abilities, you were unpredictable.
You don’t want to hurt anyone. If anything, ever since you were off the flying aircraft, you’ve been in a constant state of fear and confusion about the inevitable harm to come. The unfamiliarity, the abrupt change in surroundings that have flung you to the sun and back. From the deep greens of trees and bushes, the moist dirt beneath your feet, and the songs of birds echoing around you—to sterile white walls, glass, sharp corners and slippery floors under your shoes, these things on your feet were called shoes, you knew that.
If you think too much, you’ll hear the blood rushing through your ears and a tinge of pain striking your heart. You feel so out of place and worst of all, you can’t help but feel that you don’t belong here.
Not with the people in white or blue, with fluidity in their demeanour, and language skills far beyond your current comprehension. To you, everyone moved and carried themselves as if they were born to do what they were doing—while you couldn’t even remember your name.
Each breath from your lungs is irregular, that well-known tingle crawls over your skin, gold shimmers filtering through the material of the gloves. Keeping your hands tucked to your chest, you desperately look around, slumping in relief as everything remains the same. There were no plants, so no wilting, or colours losing their vibrancy, everything surrounding you was already dull and grey.
Even though you’re petrified, a part of you fears making anyone angry or upset—who knows what they’d do to you then.
As your brain swells with endless thoughts, Steve watches you squirm and each expressive twist of your face. He’s seconds away from leaping out of his seat and breaking down all barriers between the two of you.
On the other hand, Tony attempts to soothe the tension, “Weirdly enough, that is how I thought she’d sound.” He leans closer to the glass, squinting down at you. “Hello, nymph.” He waves.
Fury clears his throat. “Do you know any other words, Miss?”
It goes quiet as everyone waits for you to speak. Seconds drag into minutes and your lips are sealed as you blink innocently at the blond man. A silent plea that Steve hears more vividly than his conscience. “If you think this—” he waves around his hands, “—is going to make her comfortable enough to answer, you’re all wrong.”
Turns out that he isn’t the only one to listen to you, “She’s tense and anxious.” Fury gives her a pointed look, and Wanda is swift to reply. “Not powers, just intuition. This arrangement is undeniably hindering any progress you hope to make. And the glass is for what—because she’s dangerous?”
You remembered her, and Wanda knows how.
Looking at you through the glass plane, she sees her reflection on the surface. As if she’s in that room with you, being isolated, interrogated and intimidated. Wanda was labelled as inexperienced and risky from the moment she joined the team—there was no one to blame, but that didn’t keep the insecurities at bay.
“Simply put, yes. Given the circumstances, she is unstable. Now, do you want to be there with her, Maixmoff?”
“Happily.” She replies, “It isn’t far from my welcoming into the team.”
The atmosphere nearly turns solid, pinning everyone to their seats as they all exchange glances, apart from Bucky who uncomfortably sinks into his chair, undoubtedly in the same boat too. Awkwardness floats through the air above their heads, making each of them carefully consider their next words, and more importantly, their past behaviour and actions.
It isn’t wrong to be afraid of mystery. Although fear is a basic human emotion, it functions like an instinct. Through the millions of years of evolution, humankind has survived because fear promotes survival.
Wanda couldn’t help but feel like the enemy when she first joined the team. Bucky, as silent as he was at this moment, was thinking the same thing.
Of course, there were bold differences between you, Bucky and Wanda, but that didn’t outshine the similarities.
Three people singled out among a skeptical audience who already have their own conceptions that are otherwise hard to part with. An unknown existence that stretched into a potentially unprecedented presence.
Steve is the first to speak. “She nearly faints every time she uses her abilities, there isn’t much she can do without getting lightheaded.”
“Abilities?”
“Read the folder, Wilson.” Fury instructs, weighing options.
The fact that they were staring at you like an alien isn’t doing any good, everyone seemed to collectively agree that there was a better way to do this.
Then, Tony taps the glass, “Is there something we can get you, nymph? Anything you want?” He draws your attention for a second before it returns to Steve—the rest of the team observing closely.
“Mhm, want…” Your gaze is unwavering as Steve nods gently. Your lips quirk, “Steve?”
“Well, Rogers, you sure know how to stumble upon treasure. Sweetheart, do you have a full name, anything?”
You tilt your head. “...Rogers.”
Just like that, the lingering strain disappears. Flowing out from the crack beneath the door, leaving a lighthearted ambiance in its wake.
“No, that’s Steve’s name,” Bruce speaks over the soft laughter coming from the rest of the team.
It’s quiet for a few beats. Your blinking eyes flutter around the room, admiring each of their soft—not cold, not scary—expressions. Before you reply, you lick your lips. “Bambi—Steve Rogers.” You say as the blond’s cheeks turn red.
“Bambi and Steve Rogers—well, you didn’t tell me you got married, Cap.” Sam chimes. Steve can already see the gears turning in his head, other various ideas of the things you should say without knowing the meaning. “Can you say cocksucker?”
“Sam!” Maria gapes, nearly reaching over and smacking him. “Don’t say that.”
��Why not?” Clint countered, crossing his arms. “It’s just a word.”
“Don’t play stupid—she doesn’t even know what she’s saying.”
“All right, that’s rude. She’s right there.” Sam asks, “And, here I thought, you were the most kindhearted of all of us, way to break my perception.”
Natasha sighs loudly, shaking her head. “Steve, Tony, Bruce, or anyone who can end this dispute.”
“She can speak sentences, her vocabulary is just limited but she understands a little more than the basics.” Steve finally looks away when you examine the table. Running your gloved fingers along the shiny surface. “Of course, not as much as a woman her age should, and I don’t think she understands sarcasm or tone.”
“How old is she?”
“Wilson, if you don’t read that damn folder right in front of you,” Fury hisses, “Stark.”
The brunet debates with his inner monologue, tutting and huffing. “Well,” He drags on, looking between the others. “I suppose from a scientific standpoint, it’s fine. Asking her to repeat words—”
“—Oh, c’mon, you can’t permit them to give her the mouth of a sailor.”
“It would be researching her vocabulary, critical thinking and mental processing, and of course—vocal projection too.”
Very quietly, you fulfill Sam’s wish, “…cock-suck-er.”
The victory cries from Clint and Sam are deafening, Bucky even laughs loudly, covering his mouth when Steve shoots him a glare.
“I’ve never heard anyone curse that slowly.” Bucky shrugs, “you’re getting mad, punk?”
Steve doesn’t even know what’s happening, this meeting has flown vastly off track. He ignores the rest of the team and leaves the room, the guards opening your door for him.
He sees you still seated, but chewing on the blanket. “Stee-b!” Your words were muffled. You leap from your chair, crashing into him as his back collides with the wall. You climb him like a tree and as if you’re trying to crawl into his skin—you kind of are, that’s just how much you missed him.
It was complicated, you couldn’t understand your feelings. After being ripped away from your cave—the cold, wet, and dark place you called home, of course, you were upset and distressed. A sliver of you was angry with Steve too, but you also hated being away from him, whether it was a minute or a few hours.
You were all over the place, yet compact in a little glass jar, being prodded and poked at, watched like you’ve done to the wildlife in the forest. The only difference was that you were the oddity. You wanted to say something, explain your feelings or the dozens of thoughts bouncing off the walls of your mind, but you couldn’t, you didn’t know how.
“Mi-Missed so much…” You whisper, pressing your forehead to his, and going cross-eyed with the closeness. “Felt so alone…”
Steve’s heart beats against his chest, threatening to shatter his ribcage. He takes in your appearance, the dirt and grime cleaned from your face, revealing a few marks he didn’t notice before. Every time he blinks, he sees you from yesterday. On the inside of his eyelids, a joyous and melodic woman with a gleaming smile and an enchanting spirit.
You saved him when you didn’t even know him. How could he leave you out in the wilderness after that?
You sniffle, clenching his shoulders. “Met so many new people—didn’t say word, was too scared…”
Relief washes over him like a breath of fresh air, with a hint of the sterile soap on your skin, “I’m sorry, I know,” he remembers the doctors and nurses sweeping you away to get cleaned up for another round of tests, he didn’t even get to touch you before you were gone and he was called into the observation wing of the compound. “But you’re okay, right? No one hurt you?”
Your throat tightens, “N-No… still scared though.”
“No one will hurt you while I’m here. Got it?” He keeps you firmly against his front, but then you slightly push him away. The few inches between you feel like an ocean. “What’s wrong?”
Your face twists as you sort through the possible answers. You don’t want to be mean, or ungrateful, but you also want to try to communicate which feels nearly impossible. Lowering your voice, “When hurt me?”
Steve inhales sharply, as the glass turns into a mirror. At least his friends were giving you privacy, he wonders if they can still hear every word. “Not when—not ever, no one is going to hurt you.”
As you stare up at him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout, “Why I’m here?”
Steve relives the moment he told you that he wasn’t staying in your cave, and neither were you. The heartbreak and confusion on your face will haunt him to the grave, and your trembling body against his will repeat in whatever afterlife awaits him.
You didn’t completely protest, but you also didn’t accept your fate—that he took into his hands and made for you. Perhaps his actions and execution were selfish, but Steve thinks he’s far from being self-centred.
It was for you, he’s trying to help, he wants you to be safe, healthy and happy, and that cave was not good for you or any person.
For you, the goodness and compassion that came with pain and fear—everything has a price, and Steve knows you’re paying for something he brought upon you.
“Was… not in danger at cave, had food, water, nest. Was alone, so was safe.”
“Being alone doesn’t always mean being safe.” Steve reaches for you, hope fluttering in his chest when you don’t immediately pull away, but you don’t lean into his touch either. “You should be proud of yourself, Bambi, not everyone could do what you’ve done. Please let me help you, I just want the best for you.” And sometimes that meant going through the worst.
Believe me, believe me, Steve chants in his mind, seconds away from dropping to his knees, forgive me.
The bright lights highlight your face and reflect in the tears pooling in your eyes. “Don’t want to f-feel like that again—thought you would hurt.”
Steve gently cups your cheeks, wiping the lone tear with the pad of his thumb. He cranes his neck to meet your eyes, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I will never hurt you.”
“Ever?” You bite your lip, “Still trust Steve, but need to be… uh, be…”
“Positive.”
“Be positive you won’t be that again.”
Nothing will amount to what you feel, especially knowing that Steve was the one who caused it.
There is strength in softness—Steve was right and you should be prideful of how far you’ve come, how long you’ve survived, even though you don’t remember what brought you to these conditions. A forgotten journey is still a journey, and you wish you knew yours but that wistful thinking shouldn’t keep you from driving forward.
You want to know more about yourself, about Steve and the outside world. But the how, the abrupt voyage nearly shattered your already fragile spirit.
You’re putting your all into the man before you. Wrapping your entire heart in twine from the forest, smelling like fresh dew and flowers, a four-leaf clover in place of a bow, and placing it into his rough, yet smooth hands.
Looking into the endless blue with tints of green, you feel protected. There’s a compelling force pulling you deeper into his warmth, you can’t help but nuzzle his chest, soaking in his scent.
“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Steve definitely should have thought before that, because you jump away utterly terrified and quickly check over him. Roughly turning his face in your hands, and twisting his arms.
“Die!”
“It’s a saying—”
“—I’m so sorry to interrupt but he means to be completely sincere and truthful. He isn’t dying. Nice going, Cap.”
You blink at the mirror, listening to the familiar voice. “Cap…”
“Steve is Cap, capsicle, old man—”
“—Old?” You face the blond, “only little bit of wrinkle.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” The mirror turns into glass again, and the rest of the team is still seated at the table. Fury cock a brow, “Shall we continue before Wilson and Barton come up with more unprofessional vocal exercises? Bring the girl—Miss Bambi, bring her.”
“Ready to meet some new people?” Steve cups your face, “They won’t hurt you, they’re my best friends.” They’ll probably act stupid, but none of them mean any harm.
“Friends, would like new friends.” You roll on the heels of your feet, nervously glancing at the other men and women, “don’t look mean—except him.” You point to Fury.
On the other side of the glass, the rest of the team coo. Fury even cracks a small grin, although it can be written off as a simple twitch.
“Why didn’t you use Steve to get her to speak before?” Clint asks Tony and Bruce.
The men trade glances before Bruce answers, “We figured he would influence her answers someway—turns out she didn’t answer anything anyway.”
“For two geniuses, you sure are stupid sometimes,” Sam says, still watching you lowly converse with Steve who has moved to the chair, sitting with you perched in his lap.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Tony points a finger, “Anyway, I think we should do a Simon Says method—”
“The only way to test her speech is to ask her to repeat words since we’re assuming she can’t read or write, we can say them slowly and define them so she can learn.” Bruce interrupts after Natasha nudges his elbow, “I suppose you can think of it like teaching a child to speak and even though she is a grown woman, don’t be crude.”
“Agreed. Wilson didn’t have to say cocksucker.” Tony steps towards the glass, tapping on it, “There are so many other words out there. Nymph, can you say motherfucker?”
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A projection appears in the middle of the table, it’s a double-sided hologram to give everyone a clear view.
After Steve answered every question you had about the rest of the team, he brought you into the meeting room. Timid and quiet, you tried to slink away when they all turned to you. But one reassuring nod from the blond has you crossing that threshold. You remained stiff as everyone took turns greeting you and introducing themselves, you softly repeated each of their names as you clung to Steve’s arm.
Now, you look down at your gloved hands, no one has directly asked but you feel like some of them are wondering. Unfortunately, you couldn’t offer more than an I don’t remember or I don’t know.
You weren’t expecting the familiar woman to speak first. “I remember her.” Wanda’s green eyes dart between you and the projection displaying the photo they took when you arrived. There are obvious tears in your eyes and trailing down your cheeks, as you squint into the lense. “We had just turned twelve when someone found her on the side of the road and kept her as a subject.”
“How old was she?”
“Younger than me.”
You subconsciously bring the blanket to your mouth, nibbling on the fabric. Your chair moves, pivoting to the side as Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders, his warmth seeping through your clothes and to your skin.
“They never said what happened, I think it was an accident, she had bruises and a cut on her chin.”
A gentle hand cups your cheek as you meet pools of blue. Steve scans your face, his brows tightly furrowed as he spots a faint scar on your chin. Your lashes flutter as your eyes shut, barely leaning into his touch.
“The few files are dated, over a few years, she was kept with Hydra, there’s nothing about her from before they found her. No name or even a birthday, they also continuously wiped her memory and never implanted new ones. The chances of Miss Bambi remembering anything by herself are thin to non-existent.”
“Can I help?” Wanda asks, hopeful. “Her memories might just be scattered and undecipherable.”
“I suppose we can think about it.” Fury walks around the table as the projection flashes with recordings of devastation and seething beings, they’re huge and plated in gold. “Let’s start at the beginning. The Battle of New York—an alien army invades Earth at the hands of the God of Mischief. Then, Loki’s scepter is taken by Hydra and they begin their trials of human experimentation. S.H.I.E.LD. falls, Hydra succeeds, Stark creates a Murder Bot and destroys—”
Tony clears his throat.
“—Stark and Bruce create a Platinum Bastard, who in turn, operates a bunch of other bastard sentries who disintegrate a whole capital city after turning something stupidly named the Doomsday Trigger. Better?”
“Perfect, you may proceed.”
The projection changes again, one half displays a document as the other plays graining footage of snowy terrain and tall trees, explosions demolishing the surrounding nature. “Before all of that mess, we tracked the scepter here—Baron von Strucker and List were using the power of the scepter for human enhancement.”
“She wasn’t the first of their trials.” Bruce adds.
A chill ghosts over your spine as the name rings in your head, they sound vaguely familiar and make you physically sick. You shyly sip from the water bottle given to you by the woman to your right, her vibrant hair in a loose bun. She smiles at you, and you try to return one but it looks more like a grimace.
“None of the first volunteers survived, but then the Maximoffs did, and then they decided to try on her. From the lack of security or resources, Bambi’s experiment resulted in half the building catching fire. People were evacuated, data was lost and all priorities were on the scepter—they did a body count after the incident, and there is one person unaccounted for.”
The hologram flashes with a photograph, it’s old judging by the faded colours. You’re a few years younger, eyes half-opened as dirt and ash cover your skin, exhaustion evident on your features. Bruce continues, “Unfortunately, they had her chipped and found her quickly. She was unconscious a few miles away from the base of operations. It didn’t take long for them to figure out that her trial was also a success.”
“We used to talk, she sort of speaks the same now. Everything was short and simple. She was scared of everyone. She wasn’t a volunteer and after she escaped, she wasn’t treated like me and my brother. Then, she got out again and they didn’t find her.”
Tony sighs. “Poor girl. Does any of this ring a bell?”
When you don’t answer, Steve whispers in your ear. “Do you remember any of this?”
“U-Uh,” you squirm under the several stares, “only little—some names, being alone…sad…her.” you point to Wanda, looking at her a little longer, you make a confused noise, clenching Steve’s hand in your lap. You do remember the boy who was with Wanda, foggy memories of his light hair and pale skin. “Fast—where is he?” You tilt your head, “Name start with… P?”
Steve answers before the silence drags on too long, “His name was Pietro. He isn’t here anymore.”
Curiously, you gaze around the table, Clint wears a solemn expression, Natasha’s gentle grin is gone and replaced with a downcast glow. Tony and Bruce peer down at their cups of coffee.
A sniffle comes from Wanda, she’s turned away from everyone with her hand over her mouth.
Oh no, what I do?
A heavy feeling plants in your stomach, weighing you down as your chest constricts. Shame filling your body, it’s worse because you don’t even know what you did.
“Let’s take a short break.” Fury’s hardened gaze has you feeling guiltier.
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How about some fresh air? Steve asks before he brings you down the hall.
As the glass doors shut behind you, a soft breeze ghosts over your skin. Your shrug off the blanket and beeline for the little bed of flowers by a tree. The grass is green and the petals are bright, but every time you look up, you’re welcomed by a side of a building. The grey and white surround you and this little piece of nature—a cage of concrete and glass in the middle of the giant compound.
Steve tells you to keep close and you listen, constantly looking over your shoulder as he speaks to a brown-haired man, Bucky.
You slip off your shoes, gloves and roll up your pants, sinking to the cool ground and delicately touching the small flowers. The pollen rubs off on your fingers as the grass tickles your feet. Sunshine peeks over the top of the building, once again reminding you that you aren’t in the forest anymore.
You aren’t alone anymore—Being alone doesn’t mean always being safe.
You’ve tried to be strong, ever since you woke up in the middle of the forest with nothing but torn clothes and a dizziness that didn’t go away for days. The sun rose and set, again and again, tall trees turned yellow then orange and fell to the dirt. Then, snow covered the ground like a sheet.
Most of your memories in the wild are foggy—you see glimpses of broken cabins, old fabric, bundles of berries and running rivers, some of which you don’t know if they’re dreams or reality.
By being alone, there is no one to betray your trust or hurt you, but you weren’t happy with the consistent loneliness crowding you, following you like the moon at night.
The instinct to endlessly protect against everything goes deeper than the surface—to heal, is to acknowledge the obstacle, is this wall necessary? Or will it cause more torment than good? There is strength in vulnerability and openness, unmatched by the counterparts of being invincible.
That’s what you were thinking, but in simpler terms.
But, you’ve opened your heart to Steve the moment you brought him to your cave. You didn’t want to accidentally shut anyone out, but you can’t help it. You’re still wary of his friends, but Steve wouldn’t lie to you—their intentions are harmless, they want to know to help you. And with Steve, you’ve never felt safer.
Steve chats to Natasha and Bucky, his arms are crossed, blue eyes are drawn low. That force comes alive again, urging you to listen, to understand to the best of your abilities and tear down your walls. To invite him and everything he brings in, allowing the kind of connection you’ve been starved of.
To heal from the things you can’t remember, so the future is different—is better.
Before you know it, Steve is calling you back inside. He’s holding your shoes, gloves and the blanket, when you enter the compound again, you see Wanda with a red man.
You glance down at the thin stem pinched between your fingers. Leaning your shoulder on the wall, you focus on the single wilted petal. Your breath deepens as the golden shimmers erupt from your touch, wrapping around the flower as it grows more vibrant and strong—alive.
When you step towards her, you slightly stumble and catch her attention.
With two new pairs of eyes on you, you force your feet into the linoleum tiles, willing yourself to stay upright as the lights fade in and out.
“Miss Bambi, are you all right?” The red man asks, “Your blood pressure is dropping.”
It’s hard to understand him since you’re lightheaded, but from the few words you make out, you’re uneasy. You don’t know who he is, or how he knows your name, so you turn to Wanda.
“Have gift, because made you sad.” You slowly lift your hand, “Found in little garden… when I was alone, talk to plants or animals—helps when quiet gets too loud.”
A loud squeak escapes your throat as she hugs you. Her hair smells like fruit and her cheek is hot against yours, her hands grip your shirt as if you’ll float away.
Although the display was sudden, you melt in her embrace. Shaky breaths calm to a slow rhythm as you wrap your arms around her.
Steve’s touch was great, but so were other people's touch. Although you favoured him, Wanda was a close second. She pulls away, speaking to you, but you can’t hear her very well with the dizziness, and soon enough, she returns to the meeting room with the red man and the flower.
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“Project Genesis—yet another scheme by Hydra involving the mind stone.”
“Or it was, since,” Tony points at Vision, “the stone is currently occupied.” There are fewer people now, Fury, Maria, and Clint are missing, leaving empty chairs.
“Dr. Ilo hadn’t renamed it, so it was quite easy to find a connection, and we were right. The facility was trying to recreate it, with no luck from what Bruce found since they’re doing all of this without the mind stone.”
The scientist nods, fixing his eyeglasses. “When you all left to deal with the mercenaries, I was able to unblock the—arguably weak firewalls so the files that could download onto the hard drive.” He clears his throat, a slight red fanning over his cheeks, “Then, I, um, hid in the back room.”
“You did great, Bruce.” Tony slaps his shoulder, “kept calm, cool and collected. Give yourself the credit you deserve.”
The man smiles as Tony moves to the head of the table, tapping on a tablet before swiping up, the hologram projecting for the team to see. “Dr. Ilo’s failures are quite laughable, actually—oh, and everyone working there is now without a job. Courtesy of yours truly because any and all projects involving or related to Hydra are illegal and punishable by law.”
“So, they’re all locked up?”
“Awaiting trial.”
“What was it?” Steve asks, “The one by Hydra?”
“It was basically what they were doing when we found the twins.” Tony flips through the projection until he lands on a heavily encrypted page, “Nymph is only referred to as Subject 8. She’s the third successful subject for Von Strucker’s experiments with the Scepter and…” he pauses, eyes reading the tablet, “can manipulate, sense and shape the aspects of life and death.”
“Meaning she can give or take those essences, influencing the life cycles of living organisms, from beginning to end.” Bruce expands, “We only know the basics of her abilities, the last file is dated a few years ago which must be when she escaped from Hydra the second time, because there isn’t anything else about her.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Sam whistles, “feels underwhelming…”
“She escaped almost immediately after they caught her the first time. Either they didn’t beef up security, she got help, or—I don’t know.”
Everyone shifts, their eyes landing on Steve’s hand in your lap. Your bare fingers are tightly entwined with his.
“Her abilities are very weak and information on the expectations of such is unknown as of now. But, perhaps a certain sleeper agent would know, but I think he’s fish food floating down the river in the forest.” Tony murmurs, “Ring any bells, Cap?”
“He didn’t mention her, or the project when we were…”
“Fighting, yeah, yeah. Why would he, anyway? The most evil people tend to leave the biggest mysteries behind.” Tony says, “we theorize that like Wanda, the stone awoke her dormant powers, but we can’t know for sure unless she gains her memory.”
Natasha leans forward, her hair falling in front of her face. “We’re currently sweeping the entire facility for clues, anything. Dr. Ilo and her team were trying to track her down and were just as in the dark as us about her whereabouts, and how close to the facility she was.”
All heads turn to Wanda, the woman staring hard at the blank paper before her. Vision places a hand on her arm, whispering to her. “Can you restore them?”
Wanda slowly nods, “I think so.” She twirls the flower, “I want to help in any way I can.”
“We’d like to run some tests on your powers before that,” Bruce pauses, “just protocol—Tony?”
“I’ll meet you all in the lab.” The brunet waves, as Bruce speaks Wanda and Vision.
The young woman comes by you, gently asking you to come along. Your hesitance is clear as day until Steve promises he’ll join you in a few moments. You liked Wanda, a piece of a forgotten photo in your blank album.
You feel comfortable around her. In the short amount of time since you’ve met her, she’s made you feel secure. Especially back in the forest. You leave slowly, looking over your shoulder at Steve until you’re in the hallway with Bruce, Vision and Wanda.
Tony waits for the door to shut until he speaks again. “Do you have something to confess, Steve?”
“No.” He answers too quickly, which only raises everyone’s suspicions.
“Did you,” Tony makes an inappropriate gesture with his hands, “deflower the nymph?”
Steve gapes, insulted. “Oh god, Tony, No! I didn’t touch her that way.”
“Okay, okay, keep your toupee on.” He teases. “I think Bambi has a crush on the old man.”
Steve waits for the others to chime in, to disregard Tony’s wild associations but everyone just collectively nods. Bucky even mutters, “of course, she does.”
“She doesn’t.” Steve crinkles his nose, feeling slightly uncomfortable but also flustered. Of course, Tony wasn’t completely out of line, and Steve has some hidden hope about whatever was going on between the two of you. But, he also knows he’s one the first person you’ve met in a long time.
“I find offense that you think I’ll believe that.”
He remains quiet, before gathering his things to head to the lab.
Tony chuckles at his rushed motions, “If you don’t feel the same, I guess I could just tell her for you. Breaking the little nymph’s heart like a cold asshole—you’re asking for a curse.”
“Don’t do that,” Steve hurries, avoiding Bucky and Sam snickering. “I, ugh, I don’t know how I should feel.”
“We aren’t asking how you should feel—we just want to know what you feel, Steve.” Natasha smirks, “now, be honest.”
Steve hunches his shoulders, hands flat on the table. “She’s…She’s so–”
“We know, we know.” Sam smirks, “A dream on legs.”
“A rare fairy of the forest, that has settled right in your lap.”
“In his heart, more like it.”
“I reckon she can fit right in his hand, actually. All tucked and safe.”
“Yeah, don’t traumatize the poor nymph with your,” Tony nods at Steve’s huge frame, then to his lower half, “I’d hate to put out a statement that Captain America mauled a small feral woman with his third leg.”
“You’re all ridiculous.” Steve huffs in disgust, and heads for the door while pointing a finger to Sam and Bucky, “Stay away from her until you can behave. I don’t want her asking what a cocksucker is.”
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𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go ! some parts were taken out to add to the next chapter. let's all pretend this was posted on time and my laptop didn't die. thank you everyone for your patience, I've been pretty busy lately but I'm hoping to post the next part asap (hint: new character/best friend for Bambi, some getting used to the modern world, and a first kiss and more)
thank you for reading !! I'm always open for your thoughts/feedback !!
𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! this series is now going to be 5 parts bc I want to try some side character building and develop friendships. and there's a big chance I'll rewrite some of this chapter later
follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist.
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.
2K notes ¡ View notes
myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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。°❀ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞 (𝟏/𝟓)
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𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Steve Rogers x feral!reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | 6’6” Steve, feral behaviour/feral!reader, fluff, reader has a secret, size difference, manhandling–reader also likes touching, violence, death of some mercenaries, clueless!reader, secondhand embarrassment, smidge of angst.
𝗪/𝗖 | 10.8K
𝗔/𝗡 | This is a roles reversal of my Tarzan!Steve au What A World. This verse is set after Age of Ultron, and in an alternate timeline with Civil War-esque. Bucky is a part of the team, Wanda is too but labelled as inexperienced personnel, Bruce is still on Earth, Thor comes in later, and Brock Rumlow isn’t dead and he leads the last remnants of Hydra (for now). All mistakes are my own !!
Feel free to send blurb requests or asks about this series! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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It’s green. Varying in hues, pine and Sacramento in the dark shaded areas hidden from the sun, and sage, jade and emerald where the golden beams reach. Just very green, a sharp contrast to the dull grey and white facility in the middle of the area. Almost ruining the effortless nature with its presence, a giant black hole sucking away the beauty.
As the jet lands, Steve unbuckles his seatbelt. Walking to the end as the hatch swings open, he secures his shield on his back. The sunshine almost blinds him right then, burning into his eyes as he steps down the platform, going straight for the people standing in lab coats a few feet away.
“Captain, I’m Dr. Charles, did you all have a safe trip?” One of them greets with a short handshake, his glasses reflecting the blue sky. His salt and pepper hair is short, messy although once styled from the remains of the gel at his roots.
“We did, and we came as soon as we got your message.” He slips his thumbs in his belt, watchful gaze surveying the group of researchers. “Wanda and Barton, investigate the surrounding area, not too close to the treeline.”
When the two leave, Bucky and Sam stand by Steve’s sides as he asks Dr. Charles for more information.
“Since S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, we’ve been an independent organization. No special forces or advanced security, it isn’t the best circumstances for our sensitive research,” The man laughs nervously, shy from  the captain’s authoritative presence, “we focus on the biology of living organisms. The life stages specifically—”
“—for a study called Project Genesis which is highly confidential.” Another scientist speaks up, stepping forward to shake Steve’s hand. She smiles politely, her hair in a feathery pixie cut with a few dyed strands that contrasted with her lab coat. “And, I’m afraid you don’t have the clearance, Captain Rogers.”
Steve reads her badge, Dr. Ilo, he remembers seeing her ID on the tablet back at the compound. Along with a very urgent plea for reinforcements. With all of the recent attacks on facilities that previously worked with S.H.I.E.L.D., the team jumped at the chance to get a lead on the final, seemingly resilient, remains of Hydra. Although, they were now labelled as an independent terrorist group of mercenaries, led by the same man who was buried under a building the last time Steve heard of him.
“It’s a good thing we all aren’t here for that then.” The blond stands tall, posture straight as a board.
“All?” One of the other doctor’s echoes, eyes widening as the other members exit the jet. The notorious Black Widow, followed by a genius billionaire and finally, a renowned scientist who has been in hiding for the past months. The researchers take a small step back at the sight of Bruce, one of them offering him a strained smile.
The public still wasn’t over the catastrophic battle between Hulk and Hulkbuster in Johannesburg, South Africa. The Stark Relief Foundation was still dealing with the damages and lost lives. To say the least, it has been a rough few months for the team—Bruce especially, but his expertise was imperative for this mission.
Unbeknownst to Dr. Ilo and her team, the Avengers weren’t here strictly for reinforcements.
The whirring of the engine slows until the stillness of the wilderness takes its place. “Oh, that’s far more, uh, Avengers than we were expecting. Dr. Ilo?”
“It’s fine.” The woman waves, stepping forward to introduce herself to the others.
“We’re glad you contacted us, it saves us the trouble of randomly swooping in to save the day.” Tony fixes his blazer, squinting at the harsh sun. “You don’t try to conceal yourself out here at all, huh? Ever hear of Wakanda?”
“The tiny Third World nation? Yes, why?”
Steve huffs through his nose, glaring at Tony who only shrugs with a smile. “No reason. It has some of the greatest mountain ranges I’ve ever seen. Maybe lay off the research and do some sightseeing, Dr. Ilo.”
The woman hums, facing Steve. “Did you find out anything about the threat, Captain?”
The blond nods, “We suspect it’s the last remnants of Hydra. They’ve already taken down several other facilities that worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.”
“It’s kind of obvious you’re next—when you’re out in the middle of nowhere like a wounded cub.” Tony waltzes by and scans the area, undoubtedly uncovering secrets with his sunglasses. He claps his hands, pointing to the doors, “May I?”
“Of course,” one of the scientists begins leading the team through the large doors.
Immediately, the crisp nature in the air is transformed to a bitter profile, antiseptic. The striking white walls and glass panes reflect the bright, blinding lights as they walk down the wide hallway. Dr. Ilo brings them to the control room where one guard sits in a swivel chair, nearly choking on his coffee at the sight of the Avengers before Dr. Ilo excuses him.
She wasn’t lying about the lack of security.
Tony whistles. “You know, Stark Industries would be glad to help you out with this—substandard setup you have, Dr. Ilo. With your line of work, I think only the best would suffice.”
“We prefer our privacy—and I don’t think your famous tech is in our budget.”
“Fair enough.” The billionaire shrugs, and whips out a business card and hands it to the doctor. “Contact Pepper, she’ll be able to set up a payment plan. And you could say goodbye to all of this well-loved and eccentric technology, if you’d like, of course.”
“This isn’t a business deal, Tony,” Bruce says from where he’s hunched over a control panel, already sifting through the past footage. “Dr. Ilo, you said it set off one of the detectors?”
“On the Eastside of the facility, one of the thermal cameras caught an unusual presence that remained there for a long period. We weren’t alerted until the next morning,” She ignores Tony’s enthused hum, “Again, our technology isn’t the best.”
“Hydra lurking in the shadows? I would laugh if they weren’t horribly outnumbered, they’re probably scared of Cap going berserk as he did in that elevator.” Tony winces, “That’s also why I’ve tried to keep my wondrous thoughts to myself, I’d rather not spend months in the ICU, huh, Steve?”
The blond ignores the nudge from Bucky and watches the grainy footage of the surrounding area of the building. The heat signature barely moves from the treeline as the hours tick by, until the morning sun emerges and they disappear into the forest.
One of the scientists speaks up, “—excuse me, you can’t go there.”
Steve raises his gloved hand, carefully observing the rest of the researchers who’ve diverted their attention elsewhere. Through a wide window, that faces the deep woodland. His gaze switches to Natasha lingering by a tightly secure door. “Is that the electrical room?”
Dr. Ilo slowly nods, “It also stores some security documents and other sensitive data.”
“Well, we need to take a look inside. It’s simple precautions.” Steve asserts with crossed arms. “Stark, do you have the—guard box?”
The older man scoffs, “it’s not a guard box. It’s a portable protection system, more of an AI in a box than anything.” He saunters to the hall, tapping the doorframe, “And it’s quite heavy. Two-person job—let’s go, birdman.”
Sam reluctantly leaves with some colourful words, then, Dr. Ilo whispers to one of her colleagues. Hesitantly, Dr. Charles swipes his badge and the door beeps. Natasha slinks through the doorway, inquisitive laser eyes taking in the room. Steve follows as Bucky goes to the window, seemingly noticing the researchers’ interest as well while Bruce continues reviewing the footage, his glasses are drawn low as he bites his lip.
“Bet this is a change of pace considering the tech back at the compound—probably nothing compared to waking up in the twenty-first century.” Natasha ribbed, gesturing to the mass of blinking lights and exposed wires, several old screens lit up with various data, constantly changing. “Although, all of this—albeit old, is still quite shocking to you.” She heads to the poorly kept shelves, peering through a few unlabelled boxes. “Dr. Ilo certainly wasn’t lying about the lack of funding, I’ve seen better safe-keeping in convenient stores.”
Steve laughs humourlessly, observing the room as he walks to the desk, spotting a little blinking device on the ceiling. “Actually, gas detectors were invented in the 20s—” He squints at the screen, not knowing what he was looking for. He listens to the quiet beeps of the machines, “Why would Hydra have any interest in biological research?”
“Why does Hydra still exist?” Natasha fires back, glancing at the open metal door before whipping out a USB, she jams it into one of the machines then types on the keyboard. “Or, why haven’t these people moved on if S.H.I.E.L.D. is gone?”
“They continued their research solitarily, without any directors or secretaries to answer to. Who knows if they even follow rules of conduct.”
“You’d be surprised how many people care about ethics. More than you think.”
“But, most times, it’s never people who can impact the masses.” He frowns, fixing his gloves. “Do you think it’s him?” He lowers his voice.
Sharp footsteps sound outside the door, “Are you two done?” Dr. Ilo appears, her thin brows furrowed as she briefly checks the shelves against the walls. Boxes sealed, straight, nothing out of place.
Natasha nods, straightening her belt. “We’re just checking for any sabotage—”
The building rattles as an explosion goes off outside the walls. The team, except for Bruce who remains in the security room, rushes to the front doors and are welcomed by utter mayhem. Heavily armed trucks flipped and toppled over, the protective fence is now a mess of metal and electric shocks. Tens of mercenaries clad in black with heavy helmets, armed with weapons of shiny metal. Some were massive guns with smoking barrels, others with large blasters, glowing blue.
“Oh, lovely for you all to finally join,” Sam quips, flying into the sky, guns aimed at the enemies below. “Not like we’ve been getting our asses kicked!”
“The connection was jammed, no need to be pissy, birdman.” Tony snickered through the comms.
Swiftly crouching, Steve raises his shield in time for a blast, the disk withstanding the energy as Natasha ducks for cover. Bucky is behind him, firing at the soldiers as they drop like flies.
In the midst of chaos, between bombs going off and weapons blitzing, the outer facility takes a great load of damage. Windows shattered and the front doors were blown to bits, revealing the sleek white halls. Wanda’s red magic lays down a line of them, as Natasha wrestles a weapon from another, firing it at the final helicopter. The enemies, now stranded, split up. Few of them willingly brawl with the Avengers, others clatter into the building, although, most of them scour into the surrounding forest.
Steve jumps up, drop-kicking the dazed mercenary before throwing his shield at one racing into the treeline, knocking them on their face before the disk returns.
He pants, observing the array of destruction and unconscious enemies. “Romanoff, you clear out the building. Stark, find Banner and disable the servers to conceal all documents. The rest of us will head into the forest to get the rest.”
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As the last armed person falls to the ground, Steve surveys the area. “Sam, head back to the facility. We’ll sweep for any hiding.”
“On it.” The tall man nods before taking off, soaring in the direction of the faint commotion.
“Barton and Buck will go ahead. I’ll stay in the back with Wanda.” He instructs with an authoritative tone before turning around.
He’s met with the young woman’s back as she stares into the mass of trees and bushes. Then, she takes off, sticks snapping under her shoes.
“Wanda,” Steve calls, putting his shield on his back before following after her. “Wanda!”
The woman bolts, hair flowing in the wind as she weaves through the thick trunks, hopping over stones and across a stream. Bucky and Clint have followed too, after seeing Steve run in the opposite direction. It was disobeying Captain’s orders, but with inexperienced personnel like Wanda, she was the top priority.
They come to a collection of smaller trees upon the edge next to a waterfall. The grass is dewy and the dirt is damp from the lack of morning sun, and the smell flows into the crisp air.
The loud crashing water almost mutes Wanda’s voice, “wait!”
Steve thinks it’s directed to him, but as he steps closer, the scolding on the tip of his tongue dies. His eyes widen as the small bundle falls to the ground, berries of purple, red and blue scatter across the earth. Steadily following up the bare legs to the barely clothed body, he meets the terrified gaze of a woman.
Skin caked in speckles of dirt, leaves and blades of grass. The filthy sweater is oversized, slipping off one shoulder and ragged with holes and loose threads. The fabric is old and sheer enough that he can see right through it.
Your lips are parted, cheeks full and eyes bright, unblinking. With a stiff stature, you shrink before everyone’s eyes. To them, it’s as if you’re trying to hide, and you are, but it’s ineffective.
As the others pace forward, you take another step back, keeping a distance. Now, standing on the rocky cliff, the coolness sends a wave of goosebumps up your legs.
The tension lays thick in the atmosphere, not even the flowing waterfall can soothe it. The strained seconds silence the background noises of nature and dull the peering rays of sunshine. The surviving beams colouring you golden and ethereal, and utterly petrified.
Steve raises a hand as Wanda steps forward, he catches Bucky’s eye over his shoulder, the man is settled on a ledge a couple of feet up. His steel-blue eyes are alert, hands firmly holding the rifle, finger hovering the trigger. He barely nods.
“We aren’t here to hurt you,” Steve assures, boots set in the moist dirt. When he moves, it’s barely an inch, but it has you staggering backward and closer to the edge. “Hey, hold on. Look, I’ll stay here.”
You don’t listen, and the distance increases until the cliff beneath you trembles, so you quickly walk forward again.
“You’re going to fall if you step further away.” Steve can practically see the inner battle going on in your head. “Everyone move back.”
They all obey, each taking several steps backward until you're on stable ground again. They’re wearing matching expressions of concern and confusion, all but Wanda, who was gazing at you with interest, eyes scanning up and down your barely clothed body.
“She’s cold.” She states, already unbuttoning her sweater, then holding it out, “Here, uh, warm.”
You only recoil fearfully, with trembling hands. The berries squish beneath your bare feet, staining them shades of purple and blue. The ground is the opposite, under your touch erupts yellow glimmers that cover the grass, the Earth turns dark brown and wilts, barely spreading around you, but they all notice.
“What the hell—” Clint exclaims, lifting and aiming his bow at you.
“—No one move,” Steve commands.
You start to sway, vision losing focus as you get lightheaded. Falling to your hands and knees, you force yourself to stay alert and lift your head, heavily breathing.
“Give it to me and keep your distance, Wanda.” Steve drops his shield, slowly and cautiously approaching you with Wanda’s sweater. But again, you reel backwards, teetering. The rocks crumble under your weight as something glimmers in your hand, the sharp edge of a knife. Uneasiness washes over Steve like a snowstorm.
“Take off your cowl.” Wanda instructs, “she wants to see your face.”
“Don’t do it.” Bucky warns, “we don’t know what she’s capable of.”
Steve squeezes his gloved fists, eyes flickering to the red, blue and white disk lying in the dirt. He quickly considers his options. With a single toss, you’d be knocked down and the threat—if you pose one—would be handled.
Observing you now, crouching low to the ground a few feet from the bed of dead grass. With one arm tightly wrapped around your middle, the other shakily holding a little pocket knife as if preparing for an attack—but would one even come?
That was Steve’s choice.
Right now, he almost feels like a bully, those same people who used to belittle and torment him in Brooklyn. Of course, the differences are striking. This instance is completely unintentional, he doesn’t know who you are, what your abilities are, or how you ended up in the middle of the wilderness, and truly, he doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t think he could harm you if he were forced.
Why would you use a knife if you clearly aren’t normal?
Inexperienced, weak—are the words that pop into his head.
How could he wound someone who is outnumbered and terribly frightened?
To willingly cause pain on you, a cornered stranger, a paralyzed mystery.
Someone so evidently the prey.
Steve didn’t like being the predator.
He’s a soldier but no longer under an organization for their service. He is a man bound by his morals. Under the muscle, the suit of stars and stripes, is a merciful man, a human with a conscience and a determination to do the right thing.
When S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, so did the barrier between Steve and his own code, written in the walls of his heart and brain. This wasn’t binary thinking anymore, this was deeper than the surface. Buried below the past commands of others were his present principles.
“Steve,” Wanda’s voice sounds over his rapid thoughts, then he notices how you’ve moved further over the ledge, now sitting as if you're going to jump. One foot still planted on the rocks, the other hanging off the edge, a single move, and you’d vanish.
It isn’t the knife—a knife can be a deadly weapon or completely useless depending on the possessor. And as the shiny metal gleamed in your tight fist, it seemed nothing but a decorative threat. Especially when you weren’t confident in your enhanced abilities.
Not a perfect soldier, but a good man—the worlds echo in his ears. A moral man, a man who feels for the complete stranger before him.
Slowly unlatching the buckle under his chin, the cowl loosens. It falls to the ground, next to his shield. The wind fans across his skin, slick with sweat and grime from the fight. Although, it doesn’t rival the shivers he feels as your eyes sweep over his face.
You stare at him. The messy blond hair atop his head, flattened and tousled from the—head thing—you didn’t know what he was wearing, you just knew it obstructed his features. He’s too far to see the details of his pale skin, but it complemented his plump pink lips. A slight wrinkle appears between his dark furrowed brows as your gaze trails down his face. Taking in the high points of his cheekbones, and the chiselled angle of his jaw, your grip on the knife almost loosens.
His clothes are coloured dark blue, red and white. In the middle of his wide chest, framed by thick buckles is a white star, and below are stripes of white and red on his torso that only define his broad shoulders as it tapers into his small waist. You eye the heavy belt around his midriff, shiny and with several tiny pouches. Trailing down his blue pants with padding and thick stitching, you spot his brown boots.
With a brown gloved hand, he throws the cardigan and it lands within your arms reach. Glaring at his face once more, you snatch the clothing and bring it to your nose before inhaling deeply. You rub your face in the fabric, staining the peach colour in mud. Peering at the strangers, Wanda gives you an encouraging nod.
You slip on fabric and pull the sleeves over your cold hands, rubbing it over your cheeks. Making a little noise of comfort, and the knife falls to the ground as your muscles go slack. Steve hesitatingly draws closer.
“Stark, we found—someone.” Not a civilian, or maybe you were? You didn’t dress like one, although you weren’t dressed at all. Except for the thin sweater, your skin is smudged with mud and grass, and around your wrists and ankles are thin flowers chained together.
A strangled chuckle comes through the earpiece, followed by the signature repulsor blasts. “What? You find a little fairy nymph in the forest, Cap?”
“Did you get psychic abilities overnight that we didn’t know about?” Clint lowers his arms, bow still clenched tightly in his fist “More of a feral woman, but a nymph isn’t far off.”
“She’s scared,” Wanda’s expression goes soft, “she thinks we’re going to hurt her.”
Steve looks between the red magic twirling around Wanda’s fingers, and you. Still propped on the cliff and shivering, your eyebrows arched high.
“I can tell.” Bucky’s voice comes through, “she’s shaking like a leaf.”
“Her surface thoughts are blunt—loud. She thinks that we’re going to take her somewhere.” Wanda narrows her eyes, taking one step forward as the red magic intensifies. Her green eyes gleam with a hint of scarlet, the colour fading to her cheeks. “She,” The woman gasps, “She was there—she remembers me.”
Confusion strikes Steve like a bullet, his head snaps to Clint who meets his gaze. He looks just as perplexed as him.
A sharp crack sounds through the forest. The tension shatters in a split second, and Steve’s eyes dart to Bucky. The brunet reloads the sniper, and fires again. Only then does Steve buckle his cowl on again.
“They’re here—6 o’clock.”
Steve barely spots the mass of armed mercenaries rushing through the trees and shrubbery before a louder sonic boom echoes, a large glowing grenade flying through the air before landing in the dirt.
His gaze snaps to you and you’re already looking at him, a single tear streaming down your cheek. He lunges, sweeping his shield off the ground, charging straight for you but the blast goes off. Blowing him backward, and sending him crashing into a log, snapping the wood in half on impact. He heaves, spine throbbing as that warm sensation takes over—his body healing all injuries instantly.
Looking up in a daze, he sees movement in the corner of his eye. A flash of something peach-coloured and he grits his teeth before looking through distorted vision. Devastation is all he sees, trees are broken, boulders blown to bits, and most importantly, no sign of you.
A bullet lands inches from his head. Quickly, he tucks and rolls for his shield, throwing it at the enemy with a grunt. The vibranium disk ricochets back after knocking the man to the dirt ground, Steve swiftly catching it before diving as another grenade is launched. He covers it with his shield before it goes off.
Without a second to breathe, he’s kneed in the face and kicked in the ribs. As pain sears through his body, he’s hauled up by his throat. Blood pools in his mouth as he meets a deathly gaze.
The man’s face is burned, red and pale flesh forming patterns on his skin and one of his ears is deformed. The changes in his structures catch Steve off guard.
“You sure are a son a bitch, huh?” Rumlow growls.
“And you never know when to quit.” Steve sends a fist straight into the man’s face, knocking him back into a tree. He jumps and aims, but Rumlow ducks as Steve’s powerful kick breaks the bark.
The soldier fast, grabbing the ex-agent by his collar and hurling him feet away. Rumlow struggles to stand on the uneven the cliff surface from the bomb.
The waterfall plays the suspenseful soundtrack. Broken boulders crash into the water below, as if punctuating each punch thrown and kicks blocked.
Rumlow’s suit is highly specialized, throwing Steve in for a loop every time a new explosive goes off or a hidden weapon is revealed. Amongst the rest of the team, he and the ex-agent are the only ones close to the falls.
Eventually, Steve tears one of the gauntlets off. It lands on the ground, a heap of electricity and metal. He grabs Rumlow by his collar.
“I see your buddy has recovered, huh?” The mercenary hisses. “Those words don’t work anymore?”
The blond’s grip slackens for a moment before hauling Rumlow to his feet. Half of his face is hairless, void of one eyebrow and eyelashes.
“It doesn’t change what he did.” He spits.
Steve tries to pull off the other gauntlet, but a blast lands square in his chest. Knocking him down, his suit scraping on the rough rocks.
The mercenary kicks Steve’s shield out of reach and raises his arm, that sickening smirk on his face, “You survived a plane crash into the ocean—maybe you can survive a trip down the falls?”
The next blast hits the mountain of boulders, disturbing the flow of the waterfall and sending some into the rapids below.
“You talk too much,” Steve mutters, sweeping a foot under Rumlow’s feet, causing him to land on his back. He slams a fist into the man’s head, straddling his hips and raining down several more punches until he raises his arm again.
Steve clenches his jaw, gripping the gauntlet tightly, the metal caving under his strength. A loud crack sounds as Rumlow groans, eyes squeezed shut and blood streaming from his nose. Steve tears off the dented metal and throws it aside.
His cold blue glare is set on the ex-agent’s bruised and battered face.
Rumlow laughs bitterly. “What? You’re going to kill me with your eyes, Captain?” A vibrant red stains his teeth, “That’s cute—but I don’t roll like that.” With his broken arm, he rips open his jacket.
Steve looks down in horror at the bombs attached to Rumlow’s vest.
The blond doesn’t waste a moment before lifting the ex-agent over his head and throwing him over the edge. The ear-splitting explosion rattles his brain and disorients him. With his enhanced senses, it feels entirely worse and he doesn’t notice the rogue grenade that Rumlow threw at the final moment, the safety clip missing as it clattered to the ragged surface.
As Steve stands, winded, he meets Bucky’s gaze across the way. The brunet’s frantic eyes fall to the bomb inches from Steve’s feet. Quickly, he covers it with his shield again. But, the ledge is all too brittle from the previous explosion and fight, and it cracks. The split surrounds him like hunters, spreading like a virus and snapping the last string of hope.
He hears Bucky call his name before the cliff breaks, he leaps for the edge, but it crumbles in his grip. Gravity cruelly dragging him and the tonnes of rocks into the rushing blue below.
Everything is muffled and blurry underwater, he can barely make out the large grey matter getting bigger and bigger. He swims away, mouth sealed tight as the boulders slam into the water, sinking quickly. More rain down, suffocating and pinning him under the blue. The last thing he sees is another giant grey rock coming from above before everything goes dark.
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A crisp sensation draws him to consciousness, as does the quiet sound of water. He almost thinks he’s washed up on the shore, alone and deep in the forest, but then he feels cold hands on his chest and he hears a high-pitched coo.
His eyes snap open and he shoots up, shoving away whatever was next to him. As his heart hammers in his chest, he observes the rocky walls, flowers blooming from the cracks and overgrown ivy. There’s a pitiful campfire by the wide entrance, sunlight pouring in followed by a slight breeze.
A disturbed squeal rings in his ears.
His senses steadily regain focus and he notices his skin. Much more skin is exposed than when he fell over the edge. In fact, he’s as naked as the day he was born, but with the added shame and shock. The serum maintains his temperature but it doesn’t keep him from getting embarrassed or feeling the rush of heat blossoming in his chest to his ears.
Across from him and drying on a row of stones in the sun are his clothes. His suit laid out flat, as well as his undershirt and underwear. His boots, socks and gloves are there too, but next to those is a familiar cardigan and an older tattered sweater.
His cheeks burn hotter than the sun as he looks at you again.
You’re blinking slowly and yawning into your hand and clad in another thin, incredibly sheer sweater. As if his gaze physically harms you, you hurriedly shuffle back, sleep evident in your face as your legs twist. A small wet rag falls from your grasp.
Steve sits up, shielding his crotch but knocking something in the process. Next to him, his cowl wobbles, water spilling onto the rocky ground. He feels over his body searching for any injuries but as always, he’s unharmed. Even though he heals instantly, he has a habit of checking.
“What—” He coughs, “S-Sorry,” and rubs his chest.
Tentatively, you scoot forward. Inquisitive yet wary eyes locked on him as you nudge his cowl closer.
He brings the helmet to his mouth, sipping the cool water slowly. It soothes his throat, and when he sets it down, you swipe up and scurry to the little stream by the wide opening of the cave. The bottom of your feet are dirty, as is most of your body, along with scattered scars on your legs and arms. Faded, surprisingly well healed, but just faintly evident. He averts his gaze when the sweater lifts, exposing much of your behind.
You set the helmet on the ground again, and sit a few feet away in an unkempt pile of dirty, worn clothes and sticks and leaves. Tucking your knees to your chest, you tilt your head.
When you don’t speak, Steve shifts uncomfortably. He isn’t scared, but he knows you are. He can tell from the slight tremor in your hand as you scratch your head. You’re so much smaller than him, weaker—and he knows you wouldn’t stand a chance if he reprimanded you.
Steve clears his throat, “You saved me?”
You don’t reply, tucking yourself deeper into the bundle.
He groans as he sits up, bones cracking and muscles a little achy, “I fell down the waterfall.” And lost consciousness.
“…Big splash, b-because big man…” you make a quiet sploosh with your mouth.
Steve straightens at the sound of your voice, the pitch and tone, and the slow drawl of your syllables. “How long was I out for?”
You tilt your head and make a confused noise.
“How long was I unconscious for?” Steve rephases, “Sleeping?”
“Oh—Uh, sun go d-down then up again…” You answer, looking between your thighs then his. “W-What that?” You point at his large hand that actually doesn’t do much to hide his shaft. You had your curiosity while he was sleeping, but you were too scared to touch him down there—especially because of how big it looked. “...big.”
Steve turns redder than a fresh apple. He fumbles with his words, eventually settling on, “uh—my penis.”
You spread your legs, “no have?”
His throat constricts as his eyes fall to your privates. Immediately looking away as his brain screams and scolds him, he feels like a creep. “No, um, yours is different.”
“Yours bad?” You take out the little pocket knife from your nest, wide eyes locked on his crotch, “Can help?” You scoot closer but Steve desperately shakes his head.
“No, no, it’s not bad. It’s just… We have different parts for a reason.” He goes on to vaguely summarize the means of reproduction and genitals. Trying to keep eye contact instead of peeking between your still spread thighs.
You mostly just tilt your head and make confused hums.
Steve can’t believe he’s having this conversation right now. Truthfully, a part of him is still a little woozy, if he were fully conscious, he thinks he’d make up an excuse to bypass this awkward encounter.
You gasp, “Oh…Oh. Seen—uh, animals…” Your whisper, looking down at his crotch again, “...but that much big.”
The man takes a breath and stands, a strange fluttering erupts as you intensely scan over his nude body.
A tingling sensation blooms in your stomach, making you clench your thighs and muffle a whimper. The conclusions settle in your mind, three words echo off the walls; big, strong and want. Although, a timid voice warns against the dangers of outsiders, knowing fully what they’re capable of. The pain they hold in their intentions, your unfocused eyes fall to the faint scars around your ankles.
Steve goes to get dressed, and as he slips on his suit, it nearly peels right off again. The pants are fine, but chest is split open, messily cut down the star and a little across his shoulders. It isn’t completely destroyed but it does sag on his frame, no longer form-fitting. He cringes at the stiffness and awful smell of his clothes.
You’re still huddled in your nest. Body less rigid than when he first woke up. “Uh… too heavy—not know t-take off,” you shrink under his watchful eyes, “wet clothes make sick.”
“It’s fine,” Steve murmurs, taking off the upper half, easily tearing it at the waist. When he looks back, you’re completely bewildered.
“...Strong man.” You whisper.
Steve blushes as the thick fabric falls to the ground, “Yeah, I am, but you can call me Steve.” He buckles his boots. Standing upright again, he notices you crawling a little closer. You sit a few feet away from the other half of his suit, cocking your head to the side.
“Ste-eve?”
He stifles a chuckle at your odd pronunciation. “Yes, and what’s your name?” He takes out his broken earpiece and sifts through the pouches on his belt, searching for the little device Tony has him carry—for reasons suspiciously like this. Where he’s lost or stranded in an unknown area. He pulls out the gadget but sags when he realizes it’s busted. Well, that’s great, he tucks away the useless device.
“...Name?” You repeat, biting your lip, “No name—can’t remember.”
That catches his attention, “You can’t remember?”
You shrug,  “Can’t remember lots…”
He observes you for a moment, straying clear of your spread thighs, he can smell you—and he certainly doesn’t hate it. “You have abilities, though.” He wants to take the words back when you cower backwards.
With wide eyes, you shake your head. “N-No.” You consider the distance between the big man and the entrance of the cave, slowly rising to your feet. “...nothing—”
“—I saw you do something to the ground.” The dead Earth in the shape of your footprint, withered with a single touch. He steps closer, blocking your exit. He tries to sound gentle, but can’t help the slight edge in his voice, “The grass, you did something to it.”
You cover your ears, squeezing your eyes shut, “n-not kill… never, ever.”
A weight sets in Steve’s chest, sinking to his stomach. It feels an awful lot like guilt, gloomy and looming over his next words as he watches you whisper to yourself in broken English. Your voice bounces off the cave walls, nurturing his curiosity and feeding his unfamiliar regret.
He hesitates, “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
You only shake your head, facing away from him and sniffling.
“Hey, look at me.” He waits but you don’t move. “Please, trust me.” A moment bleeds into a minute, and you finally meet his eyes, the gentle blue washing over you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. His brows furrow tightly, “I’m not normal either.”
You go rigid, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater.
“I wasn’t born like this. I was,” He tries to find the right word, “changed, through an experiment by a very smart man. He chose me for the serum, he looked beyond my appearance and saw the strength in my character.”
You don’t understand what he’s saying, but you listen intently. “Char-act-ter?”
“Personality, qualities—nature.”
“Nature?” You sit up slightly.
Steve puts a hand over his chest, “Inside.”
“Inside… nature…” You look down at your chest, then place your palm over it, just like Steve. “Char-ter.”
“Character.” Steve corrects, relieved that you’re no longer so upset.
You repeat after him once, then twice. “Steve inside nature?”
“The serum—is what changed me. It enhanced everything about me. On the outside and the inside.” Erksine picked him for his courage, persistence and moral strength. He wants to tell you this but you wouldn’t understand, so he says it in simpler terms. “The good becomes great–” and the bad becomes worse.
Your soft eyes fall to his chest where his hand remains. “Steve… inside nature good?”
Yes. “He said so, yes, but you can choose to believe the same.”
He knew power all his life, being on the receiving end of it during his days in Brooklyn. He was introduced to the value of strength as a 5’4” 95-pound kid with a heart of gold and hatred for bullies—now, before you, he’s a 6’6” 270-pound man, with an even bigger heart to house his humanity and the ability to stand up for himself and others.
Blessed with enhanced qualities that have crafted him a pedestal as a throne, a symbol for freedom and protection. Immunity to diseases and infections, outstanding might, agility, reflexes, stamina, and durability paired with his heightened senses and enriched mental processing.
All of which he can utilize in flawless unison whenever he pleases.
Alone since he was eighteen, Steve has taken to greatly valuing all things he comes across. And, for some reason, he can’t imagine not divulging in you.
“Were you born like this?”
You slowly shake your head.
“I wasn’t either. I was really small and skinny, maybe even smaller than you.” He grins.
Oh, your skin prickles, you like his smile, lots. “But… big man.”
Steve chuckles, “Now I am. I used to have asthma, scoliosis, heart arrhythmia, astigmatism,” He lists, “Oh, partial deafness, fallen arches, stomach ulcers and pernicious anaemia.”
You just stare at him and blink.
Oh, right. “I had trouble breathing and I got sick really often.” He condenses. “Now, I’m the complete opposite.”
“...Steve big–strong.”
“Steve never gets sick either.” He says, “Steve also heals very fast.”
A little oh comes from your lips, “Me too—heal… Steve was hurt when found. N-Now, hurt gone.”
The blond man nods, acknowledging the slight slump in your posture, your hands uncurled and your chin tilted up. Calm, interested and unguarded.
“I told you about me, now will you tell me about yourself?” He inquires gently. Soft blue eyes trained on your face, you can feel the heat radiating off his body—but you didn’t want that, you wanted him right next to you, pressed skin to skin like you were when he was sleeping.
You couldn’t help yourself. He was so—he made you feel all fuzzy and good inside, and he was warm and big. Cuddling next to him was instinctive.
If kindness had a form, it would be embodied in the man before you. And because of that, you wrack your brain for an answer, hopelessly wanting to please him.
But nothing comes, the memories all too foggy and scattered. You make a pained noise and shift in your nest.
“Tell me anything you remember—”
Your face contorts in frustration, “Can’t, d-don’t know!” You slap a hand over your mouth, surprised at your own volume, “don’t know… what am. Just do—and get tired after too much.”
Steve contemplates asking again and prodding for more information but judging by the sudden distress taking over your features, he leaves it be.
“Do you have anything to eat?”
Your mood lights up, beaming across the dull cave walls. Quickly uncovering a round object, you slide it across the ground. “Steve hungry?”
His shield is upside-down and filled with berries varying in purples, reds and blues, and mushrooms of different sizes and colours. Steve gives you a nervous smile, “Are those safe to eat?”
You stare at the platter. “Some?—Has never tries these…” you point to the assortment of mushrooms, “but, s-special for Steve… okay?”
Slowly sitting next to his shield and separating the berries from the mushrooms he knows are not safe for consumption. “These aren’t good.”
You pout, “not good?” Your hopeful heart sinks, you wanted to impress the big man ever since you saw him at the falls.
The fear you felt has since dissipated as you’ve watched him sleep and slyly cuddling with him because he was so warm! He smelt good too, aside from the overlay of the water, he had a musk you couldn’t get enough of. His smell couldn’t be described in one word, not because you didn’t know many words but because it was a feeling.
You couldn’t explain why you saved him either. He was very heavy and much bigger than you, so it was a challenge to even haul him out of the water and back to your cave. But you couldn’t leave him—to die. You just couldn’t, and worst of all, you couldn’t express the mess in your mind because most of it was things you didn’t know or couldn’t remember.
Indescribable with your mouth, lack of language and vocabulary has never made you more frustrated. You wanted to tell the man how he was making you feel, with something as simple as his presence.
Safe, your mind says, makes me feel safe.
And you haven’t felt safe in a very long time. Practically starved of it for years.
“These aren’t, they’re dangerous—and they can make you very sick, or even kill you.”
You gasp, swatting his hand. “Then, no touch!”
“If you eat it.” Steve clarifies, “only if you eat it.”
“Oh… no eat, okay. Safe berry?” You grab a little berry and hold it to his face, “smell good?”
A small smile crawls onto his lips as he gazes into your twinkling eyes. “Yes, thank you.”
Shyly, you nudge the fruit against his nose, then his lips. “Open… please?”
If he lets you feed him, it must mean he trusts you too, and that would be an accomplishment in your head. You’ve never seen a man like him, so very tall, wide—thick, sturdy. You couldn’t help but jump at the chance to please him. He struck the curiosity in you like a gold mine, you wanted to know everything—even things you didn’t understand.
And he did, his lips parting for your fingers to place the berry on his tongue. Anxiously, you wait for him to chew, and when he does, he makes a quiet hum.
With glee, you gather a handful and shove it into his face, “More!”
Steve squeezes his eyes shut as the fruit splatters on his face. He gently pushes you away, leaning back as you continue to try and stuff his mouth. “Ah—wait, phew.”
Once your small hands are pulled away, Steve tries to clean his face, but you appear once again. This time, with the wet rag from before.
“Clean?”
“Oh, I could—”
“No,” you cradle the cloth to your chest, frowning, “me, clean.”
And so, he lets you. As you shuffle close, you bring the rag to his face and start to wipe the smeared juices from his face. Similar to before when he woke up, you were cleaning him then too. The little fire you made didn’t provide much light, so you waited for the sun to rise to see his features. Only then you noticed the sand and dirt on his body. It was an automatic impulse to clean him.
Despite the peculiar circumstances, Steve finds a glimpse of bliss. With the little furrow on your forehead as you concentrate, your tongue poking out from your lips as you clean him. Careful and sweet, like an animal would tend to their own.
Or a mate to another.
In your mind, that was what you were doing. Nurturing by nature, you act out the behaviours you’ve witnessed in the wilderness.
Oh, and you hope this man doesn’t have another person.
To have him in your sight, only to have him snatched away—you wouldn’t know how to cope.
“Okay, thank you.” Steve takes the rag from you and gives you a soft grin, a little indent in his cheek.
Tingles erupt in your belly, flutters like the butterfly wings you’ve admired.
Your fingers examine his face, pulling the flesh of his cheeks and stretching his lips. Observing his teeth and running your fingers over the edges, you even dip your finger in his mouth before he pushes you away.
“Miss—”
You pinch his nose and trace the wrinkle between his thick eyebrows and finally land on his thick eyelashes. In awe, your touch turns as gentle as the gleam in your eyes, the tips of your digits brush the thickness of his eyelashes. Nearly poking him in the eye, but Steve doesn’t protest. All too stunned and a little flustered over such a curious creature amazed by his own features.
Finally, you cup his chin. Leaning close to inspect his eyes.
At this short distance, Steve can see every detail of your face. With your breath fanning over his cheeks, he can count every mark on your skin, every dip, curve and swell. Every particular feature that combined, made the most exquisite profile.
Your view is different and narrowed on something specific. While Steve took in the aspects of your face, you’re exploring the endless pool that was his eyes.
A light blue speckled with hints of green. The blue that was softer than the sky in the early morning and the water of the falls—the green more vibrant than the leaves of the trees, shrubs and berry bushes.
Blue and green just like your home. The forest, the planet.
You’re bewildered.
Did this man have the earth in his eyes? Because it sure looked like it.
You draw closer, gasping as the peering rays reflect—combined with the green and blue, this man surely housed your very forest, your world in his eyes.
That’s why when he turns away, you grumble.
His stern gaze is set on the entrance of the cave. Steve goes stiff, standing and shoving you behind him. He sweeps up his shield, the berries and mushrooms falling to his feet as a deer peers around the corner. He visibly relaxes, shaking his head in embarrassment.
He chuckles, “almost forgot I’m in the forest—”
You leap up, racing after the animal but you trip and take a nasty tumble in the grass. You squeal, your head spinning as you flop on the ground, the cool blades tickling your skin as Steve’s concerned face appears.
“Are you okay?” He crouches beside you, big hands touching your leg, “you scraped your knee.”
“Animals always run away…” you sulk, “N-Never hurt them—but always leave.”
“They’re scared, just like you were when you first saw me.”
You squirm as he examines the fresh surface-level wound, lightly touching the skin around it. “...Won’t hurt them.”
Steve lifts his gaze, chest feeling heavy as sadness takes over your features. Painting you soft tints of blue and extreme loneliness, he can tell from your strange animal-like behaviour. The clothing, or lack of, the foraging, and the tiny cave behind him. Your vocabulary and grammar weren’t the best, and your face was very expressive.
Looking down at you, dazing into the blue sky with child-like innocence and mumbling to yourself, he can practically hear his heart soaring.
You blink slowly, the corners of your lips turning downward. The sunshine casts a warm glow on your skin, the dark green of the forest trees mirroring in the whites of your eyes. Your neck tenses as you gulp, and Steve’s stare trails down your collarbones to your chest, slowly rising and falling with each breath.
“Steve? Okay?”
He inhales, nodding. He bends your knee, watching you for your reaction. “How does this feel?”
“Will heal—but warm. Steve warm.”
The man almost loses himself in your tender touch as you caress his jaw, tracing up and to his ear. You lightly tug it.
“Me—cold, feel?”
He never feels cold or chilly anymore and when he shivers, it’s because of heat streaming through his veins. A red spreading across his cheeks as your fingers ghost to his neck, pressing into a specific spot.
“Mark not here—” you note, excitement and promise planting in your heart, “—so, free?”
“What?” His voice is breathy.
“Steve have no mate…”
Mate? “I, uh, I’m not in a relationship.”
You perk up, your pretty lips stretched in a relieved smile. “Alone—I alone too.”
Steve knew that, and he wanted to know more. You were a person stripped of all things related to the outside world, rooted in animal instincts, untamed and wild. But, harmless for the most part. Clumsy, like a fawn—like Bambi—if your fumble had anything to do with it, gentle but all-embracing.
An odd, mystically gifted Bambi.
Compared to when he first saw you yesterday, terrified and shrinking into yourself as to disappear, today, you were vibrantly different.
In the best, and most fascinating way.
Wanda said you remembered her, yet you didn’t remember your name. You don’t know your abilities, and from that, you’re unaware of the power you possess. Steve knew a mystery when he saw one, and you were the most intriguing, and beautiful one he’s ever come across.
“Be alone—together?”
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That night, he falls asleep telling you about his life. You, the ever-vigilant listener, hang on every word of his. And, tucked into Steve’s arms, you receive the long-overdue taste of touch that you’ve been so mercilessly starved of.
Steve thought it was a little strange to intimately hold you like this.
“Steve warm… Feel so cold, s-so cold…”
But, how could he deny someone so pure, and clearly in need of affection and contact? Especially, when you looked at him like that.
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It’s the next day, and for someone who doesn’t need much sleep—Steve found it challenging to wake up. Not wanting to leave the comfort of your little cave. So, for hours, he laid there on the ground with you on top of him like a heavy weighted blanket. It gave him time to think and to process the whirlwind of the previous day. Most notably, he anxiously waited until the rest of the team found him. He knew they were coming, but when was the question.
While his brain was running a mile a minute, you were snoring and drooling as you slept the day away.
Now, the two of you were venturing into the forest for some more food. You had finished the berries last night and now there were a few purple and red stains on Steve’s white tank top.
The sun has already begun to set. Hiding behind the layers of trees and pine, dark shadows bleeding over the solid dirt and grass.
Steve watches the little creature hop about, ducking into a small bush before popping out again. Its nose wiggles and he tightens his grip on the pocket knife. He’s crouched low to the ground, senses honed on the rabbit, everything else fading into a single mass.
That’s why he falls flat on his ass when you jump in front of him, the sudden movement causing the rabbit to run away.
You hiss at the man, snatching the blade from his hand and using it to cut the branch of a berry bush. Adding it to his cowl around your wrist, the helmet acting as a basket.
“No killing. Ever.” You’re frowning at him with such distaste that Steve is shocked.
You growl softly, pushing him aside, but the blond doesn’t move. Looking up at him with a scowl, you huff, “move.”
Still surprised over your abrupt change in behaviour, Steve stumbles backwards.
You spot the small dead wilted flower that was squashed under Steve’s weight. Peeking up at him from your knees, you pat the ground. “Watch? Can show—try to show.”
After you pick up the flower, the speckles flow from your hands like gentle wisps, soft shimmering and golden.
The once limp flower straightens before his eyes, the stem turning a healthy green and the vibrancy spreading to the petals. The veins under your skin glow, the energy blooming and entwining with the open air. It performs an artistic dance before his face, enchanting and vaguely reminding him of Wanda’s abilities.
Steve reaches out, touching one of the sparkles, flinching when it turns brighter and brighter, until burning out. His eyes drop to your hand, cradling the lively plant as you breathe heavily.
“C-Can do only—little things.”
He remembers the blooming flowers in the cave. Away from sunlight, water and rich soil. They wouldn’t survive there in those circumstances, and he knows you had something to do with it. He isn’t sure what it is but Steve’s resolve is unbreakable.
Dark and wilted to brilliant existence.
“How?” Steve murmurs.
He stares at the flower as if it were going to morph back—to its broken stem and squashed petals, but it doesn’t. From death to life. As if he’s strung back in time, he’s standing alongside Wanda and Clint with Bucky’s voice playing in his ear, his vision locked on your feet as the grass turns brown and withers under your touch. From life to death.
You tuck the flower with the berries in his cowl, then blink up at him. “Don’t remember…”
You couldn’t tell him because you didn’t know. There are forms of knowledge in your mind, unrecognizable yet familiar, in muted shades and structures you couldn’t distinguish.
Steve goes through an array of emotions, so fast he can barely process them. Thrilling revelation to ephemeral fear and finally, landing on speechless fascination. His mind and heart are speaking at the same time, altering volumes, chanting about your concealed potential, and the birth of your abilities. You, a giver and taker of life.
“Did bird once—broken wing but got so tired after… slept until sun almost came down.”
You sway to the side, your body slumping into Steve’s. Immediately, you curl in his warmth, humming. It’s concerning how much energy that small plant took from you, and that deeply worries Steve. Then, you yawn and start wiggling into his lap, murmuring his name until your eyes snap open again.
“Bugs!”
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Traversing through the forest, over overgrown roots and between trees, of thick pine and redwood. You warn him about the wolf’s den a few miles away and babble about the different places you wish to show him—a little garden you care for, the tallest hill that overlooks the entire woodland and your favourite stream where the frogs and other small creatures come out to play–you call it.
Steve doesn’t have the heart to tell you he probably won’t get to see any of those places.
You also mention your current cave being your favourite so far. When he asks what you mean, you only shrug.
Truth be told, he’s still unable to grasp that he’s following a random wild woman in the woods.
“Shh,” you shush him, eyes locked on the pond below you, it’s covered in duckweed, water lilies, and algae. The sun inches lower, settling on the horizon and the final ray cusps over the tree line. Another inch and you’re thrust into the shadows. Steve’s eyes adjust to the darkness, making out your features slightly.
The crickets ring in his ears, blending into the surrounding sounds of the wilderness. The smell of the freshwater tingles his nose. A cool chill brushes over his skin, and he sees you shiver.
“Cold?” A part of him feels stupid for asking when the answer is so obvious.
You nod, the top of Steve’s suit hanging off your frame. He lifts his arm, about to pull you close to share some of his body heat, but you’re already on him. Tucking yourself under his chin and rubbing your face in his chest. The cold of your hands seeps through his shirt as you feel over his torso, fingers dipping into his belt.
“Uh—”
“Shh!”
Steve’s mouth snaps shut and he follows your gaze.
Speckles of green and yellow erupt from the surroundings, flickering and flying. Buzzing over the still water of the pond, weaving through the tall reeds and shrubs. Steve chuckles dreamily, “It’s beaut—”
“Shhh!” You slap a hand over his mouth, glaring up at him. “Shy bugs… will go a-away if too loud. Just watch.” Your face is enriched by the flare of the fireflies, their flickers playing on your skin.
The man nods silently, waiting for you to remove your hand. Once you do, your touch trails down his neck again, lightly petting over that clear spot on his skin. You purr softly before burrowing into his body again, peering at the pond to watch the insects flit.
They grace the air with their glow like little suns that can fit in the palm of Steve’s hand.
He opens his mouth to speak again but you glare up at him. So, he returns his attention to the pond. Taking a deep breath and allowing the smell to seep into his lungs, the delicate burn of the fireflies hypnotize him with their motions.
Steve has seen war, death and loss. He’s seen victories and failures and experienced heartache and joy.
But, he has never just been still.
The realization strikes him like a collapsing skyscraper. His arms tense around your body, pulling you closer.
Your distant sigh harmonizes with the crickets and nature, playing in the back of his brain as his life flashes before his eyes.
Face-paced images of loneliness, delight and fame. Glory draped in opportunities, from forging his enlistment forms to becoming Captain America and joining the army. Finding and fighting alongside his best friend—he hopes Bucky was okay.
“Steve watch…” you murmur barely above a whisper, “still—just still.”
He nods, fading into your lingering touch as his mind scans through his memories like a photo album. Pages of experiences, from the beginning of the Avengers in New York, to Washington and meeting Sam and finding Bucky ultimately leading to the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., to Ultron and finding the twins and the creation of Vision. And lastly, before the rest of the blank pages, is now.
Currently, the Avengers operate as a private organization—helping when and where they can, and still taking down enemies of S.H.I.E.L.D.
All of that, in the span of three years.
There was good that surpassed the bad. His friends, his experiences, and the changes he’s made in the world for the better.
But, the concept of time is what bugged him the most. Snapshots of moments that were once the present, some have since lost their vibrancy and become dull and faded. He did feel like he was out of time—as if he lost all opportunities to be who he was destined to be. Perhaps destiny was never that important anyway. Or, fate had it be that he ended up here—after seventy years still and frozen, to wind up in the twenty-first century.
“Steve…” you breathe, a gentle smile on your lips. There’s a firefly on your finger, it flutters its wings, hopping onto Steve’s bicep before flying off. You gleam up at him, “...never t-touch one before.”
Moments that have since become memories, unable to be relived.
Fleeted instances that have escaped from his grasp.
“Steve touch one–before?”
He was convinced he had lost the chance to live his own life in his own time—but now looking at you, he wasn’t sure. As the wind blows against your skin, fireflies dance around you, their glow highlighting the prominent points of your face and reflecting in the whites of your eyes. Steve thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful, pure, untouched.
Someone so out of touch, starved of affection and warmth—right in his arms.
He’s about to respond, but his ears pick up familiar voices. Faint enough to make him wonder if it was just the forest playing tricks, and then, he sees them.
Over your shoulder, between the trunks and branches of the trees are some of the team, holding flashlights or devices as they manoeuvre the uneven terrain.
He almost rejoices right then and there, but you keep a firm grip on his arm and try to yank him in the opposite direction.
“Wait—”
“Hurt… stay away,” your voice is hushed, as are your careful footsteps, wary of sticks and crunchy leaves.
Steve doesn’t let you pull him any further. Planting his feet in the ground while you struggle and become more frantic, wide-eyed glowing with panic. You go stiff as the voices draw closer and surround the both of you.
“Need to go, now.” You plea, ducking as a light flashes in your direction.
“That’s my team, they’re looking for me.” The blond hears a voice, I’ve got heat signatures, one of them is well over one-hundred degrees Fahrenheit, the other is quite low.
“Steve?” One of them calls.
The man stares down at you, as you shiver and tremble in his suit top. Your bottom lip quivers before you bite down on it harshly, urgency in your eyes, he can feel the nerves radiating from your body.
He opens his mouth but you slap your hand over it. You whine softly. “S-Steve… no.” Tears pool in your eyes as you desperately shake your head, “Don’t tell,” you beg, fingers digging into his forearm. “Please—will take me away, hurt.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Steve promises, cupping your jaw. His heart flutters when you burrow into his chest, whimpering. “And, they’re good people. They’ll help you.”
He doesn’t know how you’ve survived this long or how much luck was on your side but he doesn’t want to find out.
He wasn’t staying in the forest another night, and neither were you.
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Steve squeezes his eyes shut, each silent cry coming from your sealed lips adding another tonne to the weight on his shoulders. He combs his fingers through your hair, keeping a firm grip around your squirming body.
“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He says again for the umpteenth time, hoping to speak it into existence. “You’re okay, Bambi.”
You just shake your head, huddled into his chest with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The jet shakes, causing you to let out a high-pitched whine. Steve just presses you closer, ignoring the prying glances from his friends.
He does feel terrible for tearing you away from your cave, your forest, but he couldn’t leave you out there. Even if you did dash away when his friends spotted the two of you.
“Let her go,” Steve commands.
Clint lowers his bow, standing next to Natasha and one of Tony’s drones. The flashlight on the robot’s chest shines in Steve’s eyes.
“Well, you weren’t lying about the nymph,” Tony’s voice emits from the drone, it whirrs softly as it turns in the direction you ran in. “I’ve got a track on her. She’s heading straight up North. Fast little thing too.”
They had shown up at your little cave. Steve’s heart aches awfully as he remembers your quiet sobs from your nest, buried under the old clothes and his suit top.
You hear his boot land on the rocky ground and perk up with hopeful eyes. “Steve?”
“Hi, Bambi.” The name escapes his mouth before he could even think.
“Bambi?” You tilt your head, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. You’ve never felt this happy before–you could scream. He came back, Steve found you!
“Oh–” he blushes, knowing fully that his friends were listening to everything, “Can I call you that?”
You nod quickly. “Yes! Steve—stay?” You point to your nest, “make bigger for Steve… uh…com-for-ble. Comfort… make comfort for Steve. Soft.”
A little pout plays in your lips when he doesn’t move any closer, just lingering by the wide entrance. “Stay…with Bambi.” You whisper, testing the new word on your tongue. You repeat it again and again.
Each time you say it, another nail is hammered into Steve’s chest. Pinning the guilt and sorrow from tearing you away from your little cave.
“I’m sorry, Bambi.”
“For—what?” You ask innocently, “Steve… Steve stay?”
“I’m sorry, Bambi,” Steve says again, keeping you tucked snug in the blanket. He hopes they arrive in New York soon. “I’m so sorry.”
He is a good man, and you deserved good—no, you deserved great. And, he was going to give it to you, and even if it meant taking you away. He can only hope you’ll understand.
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𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and here it is! the long-awaited feral!reader au !! I’ve had the ending planned for this series way before I started actually writing it, the next chapter will be the final part. hehe reader definitely has a secret :)
I'm always open for your thoughts/feedback ! I hope you all enjoyed !!
follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist.
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.
3K notes ¡ View notes
myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
Text
honey,
there is no right way
summary || when you agree to be the feared mobster Bucky Barnes’ sugar baby, you expect to get enough money to pay your bills. what you don’t expect is to fall head over heels for him.
warnings || sugar baby au, mob! Bucky Barnes, unprotected sex, a lot of kinks, violence, SMUT. ANGST. FLUFF. (the holy trinity). MINORS DNI.
I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!
* Feel free to send drabbles, requests or asks about this series!
note
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→ completed
— one
— two
— three
— four
— five
— six
— seven
— eight
— nine
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
MOODBOARD
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
DRABBLES
Bucky and reader at a wedding
Bucky with kids
Bucky and Peter before the first date
Bucky taking your photographs
Bucky gets jealous
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
7K notes ¡ View notes
myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
Text
Heart of Glass - Four
Heart of Glass Series Masterlist
Therapist! Curtis Everett x Female Reader
Word Count: 3.6K
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, angst, language, mentions of therapy, jealousy, some self-destructive behaviors, drinking, mentions of a past toxic relationship, angst, quick authority kink
Summary | A bad breakup lands you in the office of Dr. Curtis Everett, who seeks to help you further at the request of your local therapist, due to his renowned talent in his niche profession.
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The classical music playing gets your attention slightly, enough for you to recognize that the piece that is playing is from Gabriel Faure, a song that puts a smile on your face as the man staring back at you follows suit.
“Berceuse, right?” he asks, watching you nod your head.
“How did you know?”
“Ah,” he laughs with a short shake of his head. “Studied music in college. One of my favorites.”
This man, the one who aptly swiped right on you on a dating app had been sitting for twenty minutes before you arrived because he admitted he was nervous. You aren’t sure why. He’s handsome as hell, hanging off your every word that makes you push down every opposing thought. Will Miller, as you’ve come to find out, can listen to you talk about anything, even when you’re changing subjects so rapidly that you apologize because you know you’re heading into a ramble before he assures you he can keep up.
There shouldn’t be any comparing to Bryce. You know this deep in your heart and soul that you shouldn’t even begin to list off how different they are, but you can’t help it. Not when Will lets you order first, allowing you anything you want on the menu. Bryce never did such a thing, often ordering for you instead. Bryce never complimented your dresses, only making biting comments about where you bought the dress before the shame and guilt of not being able to afford anything –
“And for the wine, Miss?” the waiter asks, breaking you out of your concentration as you blink, looking down at the menu.
“Anything you like,” Will offers. “Don’t look at the price.”
“How can I not?” you reply with a nervous laugh.
Your selection is pricey but not nearly as pricey as the others before Will raises an eyebrow.
“You sure?”
“Sure,” you answer.
“Wonderful choice,” the waiter agrees. “I’ll be back.”
In just a few days, you’ll have to return to Curtis’ office and relay your kinks so that he can get a look inside your brain and why you like the things you do. You’re aware of the effect he has on you, especially when it comes to how your body reacts. Remembering how he stared down at you when he caught you in a lie had already made you reach for your favorite vibrator at least twice in a week, disgusted with yourself when you finally finished. He was your therapist, not someone to be lusted over when he was trying to help you. Still, there was enough chemistry there that he admitted that he didn’t say he hated helping you. That had to be something, you think, watching the waiter return with the bottle as he fills both glasses. You can’t think about Curtis. Not now. Not when this date is happening. You catch Will’s glances from time to time, quickly looking down to inspect the table or the perfectly clean utensils that are laid on the linen napkins.
“Tell me more about what you do. You’re an architect, right? That’s fascinating, I don’t think I would have the talent for that,” Will admits. “What’s a normal day in the life for you like?”
“It changes from day to day, honestly,” you answer truthfully. “Some days it’s strictly in my office, working on projects and lots of designing and talking with clients. Other times it’s in the field, on site visits, making sure the mock ups are actually going to look good once the project begins. Those are the longer days but it keeps me busy.”
“I can only imagine. But I can hear the passion in your voice. You love it.”
“I do, I really do. What about you?”
Will inhales slowly, an almost melancholy expression on his face that disappears before you know it.
“Motivational speaker,” he says with a slight wince. “Sounds corny, I know. People hear motivational speaker and they automatically think Tony Robbins. Which, I guess I can’t blame them but it’s a little more than that. I help out veterans. So I guess it’s a bit of a niche in that profession.”
“That’s amazing,” you tell him with a nod. “Seriously. I did think of Tony Robbins a little bit but veterans, that’s a big deal, you know? I think there’s so many of them that get left behind and we don’t take care of them. I think we like to thank them for their service but truly, what do we do for them? Myself included.”
“Ah, you have a good heart, I knew it.”
“And a big mouth,” you murmur, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at your impassioned statement. “Clearly I feel strongly about that subject. Yikes.”
“Nothing yikes about it. You’re absolutely right. It’s a little more than being a motivational speaker. I was able to get some free housing set up and I’m continuing to do so. It’s a lot of work but I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”
“You have a good soul.”
Will smiles at your compliment, blue eyes flashing for a moment under the low lights that almost makes your stomach flip with how he’s staring at you.
“Coming from you? That means a lot.”
“I call it like I see it.”
“Good judge of character, perhaps.”
You tilt your head up at his choice of words.
“Sometimes. Today, I think I hit the nail on the head. Other times… I’m not good with it.”
“No? Why do you say that?”
“I’m just being silly,” you quip, waving your hand to change the subject. “I tend to sometimes put people on a pedestal that shouldn’t be there. I learn very quickly.”
“Ah, I see. Well, there’s nothing wrong with thinking the best of people. I think we as humans tend to see the bad in others first, rather than let them reveal who they are to us and let their story play out.”
“Oh, I did that before,” you reply dryly, taking a sip of your wine. “It didn’t end well.”
“That bad, huh? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m still taking it day by day but that’s great advice.”
“Maybe,” Will says with a wink. “Or I could just be an optimistic idiot.”
-
Curtis spies you across the way, almost doing a double take at the way your eyes are locked on the man across from you. He's there for a drink with an old friend, not expecting to see you before he strides past, not giving you a second glance. He's already made a mental note of how the man isn't looking at your face when you speak, body language all wrong before he feels your eyes on him. It's all physical, the way he licks his lips when you make a joke, Curtis' irritation rising before he finally sits at the bar, pushing the thought away of you as a hand claps down on his shoulder.
"Long time no see," Scott says with a smirk before he looks at his friend's face. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," Curtis replies quickly, his attention on the bartender who is coming their way. "Great."
“You sure? You look a little perturbed.”
Curtis doesn’t miss a beat when he orders his drink, vowing to not look in your direction. A hint of annoyance won’t go away, even when his drink is placed in front of him.
“Long day.”
“Bullshit.”
He resists the urge to roll his eyes as Matthew nudges him in the side, not giving up.
“Long day,” Curtis repeats through clenched teeth as Matthew grins.
“Woman trouble,” he says with a knowing nod as his eyes widen. “No fuckin’ way. Curtis Everett having woman trouble? He is human after all.”
“Wouldn’t say that. A lot of sessions in a short amount of time would make anyone a little irritated, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Sure,” Matthew agrees. “But that’s not what this is.”
“Like a dog after a fuckin’ bone, Matthew. You wanna know the truth?”
Matthew leans forward while Curtis downs his drink, looking at the people around them before he lowers his head.
“It’s called a HIPAA violation,” Curtis shoots back, slapping his friend’s cheek as he pulls back with a yelp. “Nosy bastard.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Matthew grumbles, taking a sip of his beer. “Fine.”
“Besides,” Curtis pauses for a moment as he sees the man get up from the table. “Don’t you have a whole wife to worry about?”
“When she’s not off writing scathing reviews about your books? She’s with her mother at the moment. Back in a week. Some cruise, you know how much her mother loves those.”
“Nothing says mother daughter bonding than buffets and endless drinks at sea.”
“You have no idea,” Matthew answers with a roll of his eyes. “And you? What about Stacey? Don’t think I didn’t see that article about the ‘playboy who broke her spirit’. That was all you, wasn’t it?”
“Must have missed that issue.”
Matthew grins as he slaps him on the back.
“Good boy. It’s worth as much as the paper it was printed on. On the flip side, at least she said that she got a free dinner out of it. I don’t think it would kill you to be a little more kind to fashion editors who hobnob with the elite.”
“You expect me to care about all that.”
“I don’t but you should. Think of how many more books you’d sell.”
“I don’t write them to have people try to have me diagnose their issues and try to use me as a quick fix.”
“I know. Maybe I’m just trying to get invited to those fancy Vanity Fair parties.”
“You’ve been before,” Curtis points out as Matthew shrugs. “You begged me to take you.”
“And then you insulted Brad Pitt and weren’t invited back.”
“That’s not entirely true. I insulted his coping mechanisms and suggested better outlets. Like anger management.”
“You can’t tell people that.”
Curtis gives him a wink as he finishes the rest of his drink. His eyes catch the man back in his seat, eyes narrowing at the sight of him. He’s seen him before, though he can’t think of where. He doesn’t have to do much, as Matthew turns to see where Curtis is looking.
“Will Miller?” Matthew asks with a hint of curiosity. “On a date?”
“Is that surprising?”
Curtis keeps his cool as he opens his phone, quickly typing in the name as his memory is jogged. William Miller, motivational speaker and former military. A saint by all accounts, building free housing for homeless veterans and selling out arenas for his tours. A god complex if Curtis ever saw one but with a little less exploitation and more empathy.
“He was engaged like two months ago,” Matthew mutters behind him. “I wonder what changed. Maybe her.”
Her is referring to you, something that Curtis has to swallow down before the bartender comes by and asks if they want another, something Matthew agrees to before Curtis can say a word.
“Engaged?”
“Yeah, some supermodel. You know the kind. Sports Illustrated type, got over three million fans on Instagram… it was all over People.”
“Because that’s absolutely what I read on a daily basis,” Curtis answers him.
“I’m just saying it wasn’t going to work, you know? She was a supermodel. Not saying being a supermodel doesn’t mean you don’t care about others but she never went with him to meet and greet the vets. Ended up making a comment about how it was beneath her. Guess he’s going for real girls now. This one ain’t half bad.”
“Would your wife agree?”
Matthew gives him a sheepish smile as he shakes his head.
“That’s right, reel me in when I’m getting too much.”
Another drink is placed down as Curtis picks it up, turning his attention away from you and Will.
“That’s what I’m here for, Matthew.”
-
The date has been better than you ever imagined, still smiling to yourself as you head toward the bathroom. Truthfully, you’ve had a little too much wine and you know despite your head telling you that you are walking fine, you know that you’re wobbly and not walking straight, even with your head held high. You focus on your heels as you continue on, not realizing what is in front of you until it’s too late, hitting a solid body that holds you by the waist so that you don’t fall flat on your face.
“You okay?”
Your mouth goes dry at the sight of Curtis, who lets you go a little sooner than you expected. He’s dressed down, in a pair of grey slacks and a black shirt that is rolled up at the sleeves. Still, it doesn’t do you any favors to see his corded muscles as he studies you for a moment, waiting for your answer.
“H-Heading to the bathroom,” you manage to say, trying to keep your poise as he takes a step away from you.
“Have a good night,” he bids, making you turn your head as you continue on, stopping slowly when you realize he’s heading back to the bar.
“Are you here with someone?” You can’t help but let it slip out of your mouth, immediately regretting it as he stops and turns around, eyebrow raising in curiosity.
“Are you?”
You should say yes. It is a yes.
“I asked you first.”
The ball is in his court now and you know it by the way his tongue runs over his lips for a scant moment as he nods. You feel unsettled at the thought, even if it makes no sense as Will is waiting for you to return.
“Me too,” you answer with a haughty nod.
“Have a good time,” he says in a farewell, making your heart skip a beat.
It’s a dismissal.
You aren’t sure why you feel defeated, pushing open the door as you head straight for the mirror to check your makeup. A little dab of powder makes the shine go away as you check yourself out. Giving yourself a little pep talk doesn’t seem to do anything, not with how much your brain replays how Curtis looked at you when you ran right into him.
“He’s your therapist,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head before you furiously wash your hands, head still spinning from the alcohol before you straighten yourself up and smooth out your dress. It’s all in your head, you think, drying your hands quickly before you head back out to Will.
-
It’s business as usual when you arrive, Justine keeping a straight face as the man in front of her tries and fails to flirt, eventually giving up as she hands him his appointment card. He shuffles away, not looking you in the eye before she tells you that you can go in. You’re aware that her cold demeanor is a defense mechanism when she answers her cell phone, voice turning to pure honey as she speaks.
“What do you want for dinner? Anything you want, I’ll get it for you. Promise,” you hear her say before you’re almost to Curtis’ office.
He’s focused on typing up notes, glasses adorning his handsome face while he works. You hover near the door, even though this isn’t your first time in his office. You aren’t sure why you’re waiting for permission, something that sends a jolt to the apex of your thighs as you close the door behind you and sit, right as he finishes up, turning his attention toward you.
“Did you bring your list?”
“I did,” you answer, rummaging through your purse and pulling out the paper, carefully opening as you stare at the list and not at him. Pursing your lips together, you’re quiet as you read every single one.
“Everything okay?”
Your gaze snaps to him as you realize you made a sound.
Not just any sound.
A mix between a whimper and moan as you inhale sharply.
“Fine,” you answer, handing him the paper as he looks at it like it’s a foreign object.
“This is an exercise for you,” he reminds you. “We’ll discuss the ones you want to tell me about.”
The ones you want to tell him about.
“Uh, well,” you start, peering at the paper. “I just tell you the words?”
“One at a time.”
“Authority.”
There’s a silence for a moment as Curtis nods, saying nothing for a beat while you look back at him.
“What do you like about it?”
It’s a genuine question, one that isn’t filled with judgement. You remind yourself that this is a safe space and that he hasn’t judged you thus far.
“I like the position of power,” you admit softly, not looking at him as you stare at your crossed ankles. “Especially if they got it by being intelligent. Able to cast a power over someone with a single glance or a few words.”
“Have you always enjoyed that?”
You see him write notes, still waiting for your answer.
“I guess so. Bryce was in a position of authority.”
Curtis stops writing, blue eyes fixated on you.
“He wasn’t in a position of authority. He was rich. While that can hold power, I think we can both agree he wasn’t fit for any position that requires critical thinking or compassion.”
You’re speechless for a moment as you nod quickly in agreement. He isn’t wrong but there’s something about the way he says it, almost as if he’s getting a bad taste out of his mouth, that makes you curious.
“Do you think that you enjoy this particular thought because it inadvertently makes you feel like you don’t have to have any control? Meaning, in a sexual situation, you’d relinquish control within healthy boundaries to feel free?”
“Healthy boundaries,” you repeat. “Does it have to be a healthy boundary? Isn’t that the point of authority kink? To have someone be in charge.”
“The point,” Curtis emphasizes, his pen clicking before he places it down. “Is to have a healthy experience with sex while exploring kinks is for both partners to both have healthy boundaries so that one does not take advantage of each other. It’s a perfectly healthy kink to explore with the right partner.”
Authority drips with every word as you find yourself nodding along. You swallow hard, looking at the next word.
Oh.
You were halfway to drunk when you wrote this word, eyes widening as he waits.
“Breeding.”
He clicks his pen, your eyes watching the slight bob of his Adam’s apple as he writes.
“Another perfectly healthy kink. What draws you to this one?”
You want to push his buttons, even as your heart slams into your chest. It should be embarrassing, telling a stranger the things you only think about to yourself. But he’s so calm, so cool and collected that you want him to be stumped at least once in his life by what someone will say at a session.
“Why do I like it?”
He nods, waiting for your answer, pen poised at the ready.
“I used to be ashamed of it,” you admit, smoothing out your pants with a simple flick of your wrist. “But there’s something about the feel of opening yourself up to someone, letting them fill you up and the danger of knowing that something could come from it. Maybe it’s the primal instinct of spilling inside someone and keeping it there in hopes of something to grow. To leave a mark. A legacy.”
The pen falls to the desk as he inhales sharply, the pen scrolling on the notepad. You can’t tell if it’s affected him or not as he clenches his jaw for a moment.
“I think you’ve explained that one just fine.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“What else is on your list?”
You’re slightly frustrated that you didn’t get him to react the way you wanted, staring at your list once more.
“Submissive.”
“Some argue that authority and submissive would go into the same category.”
“What do you think?” you ask, realizing that he’s stopped writing.
“I think they go in two separate buckets depending on the partners involved. But this isn’t about me. This is about you. What draws you to it?”
“Like I said before, relinquishing control,” you tell him, leaning back in your chair. “To not be in control but to have someone take care of my every need, make me theirs, turn me into whatever they need.”
“Healthy boundaries,” Curtis says quickly. “You keep missing that part.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Yes, you do. Everyone does.”
You’re frustrated, hating that there is a condition to everything you say. Submission is something that turns you on, even if you know deep down you need those boundaries that he is continuing to remind you of.
“Maybe I don’t want them.”
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t want them.”
“Do you have boundaries?” you ask, the frustration continuing to build as he nods. “So you’re perfect? You have amazing sex all the time? Even with all your boundaries?”
“I’m not discussing my private life,” Curtis snaps, closing his notebook. “This is about you and your inability to see that while your kinks are healthy, the lack of boundaries you’ve placed on yourself and in future sexual partners can lead to unfulfillment and potential emotional and physical damage.”
“I know how to put up boundaries.”
“Do you? Give me one example.”
You’re silent at his quiet demand, thinking for a moment to try and come up with something.
“I went on a date,” you remind him, puffing out your chest proudly. “I could have had rebound sex but I didn’t. I went straight home after the date.”
Curtis sighs, almost in relief if you didn’t know any better before his eyes narrow, his voice so low that makes your thighs clench together.
“Good.”
712 notes ¡ View notes
myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
Note
"I got the pussy. I make the rules" - Peach
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gif by @sebastiansource
Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: Fingering, Oral (fem rec), smut, overstimulation, praise kink, choking kink.
A/n: Written on my phone.
|Masterlist|Chubby Bucky Masterlist|Library|☕️|
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“I make the rules here Bucky,” you repeat for the second time in five minutes, glaring at your 6’5" boyfriend currently hunched over the back of the couch, watching you pace back and forth across the living room rug.
You don’t remember how the argument started, in fact you’re not even that mad anymore, but your pride won’t let you back down. How you got to the topic of who's in charge is beyond you but again-your pride won't let you shut up.
Bucky adjust himself, his erection threatening to bust through his boxers. Damn you’re sexy when you’re angry, he enjoys your fiesty nature more than you. He knows better than to share that tidbit when you’re all riled up. Bucky uses his cup to hide his smile, downing the rest of his latte.
See, it’s not that he thinks you’re wrong, in fact he loves it when you out him in his place.
Bucky wholeheartedly believes that women are better than men, he’s not one of those guys who think you’re weaker or fragile just because of what’s between your legs. He knows women should rule world. Anyone who says otherwise is a delusional piece of shit.
So it’s not that he disagrees with the fact that you make the rules. You do. If you tell him to jump and he’s already in the air asking is this high enough.
It’s just that...well, you’re not the only one in charge here.
“Aren’t you forgetting someone, Peach?” Bucky asks, head tilted to the side so he can get a real good look at you. You’re such a pretty thing, wearing his oversized Henley, the long forest green sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and a pair of panties that show off your ass.
"The one person even you have to listen to. Matter of fact, she should be the one talking right now."
“Excuse me?” You ask, hands on your hips, the indignation drawn across your face makes you even more stunning, all he wants to do is fuck the anger right out of you.
Soon.
Bucky saunters around the couch, the dull slap of his heavy steps fills the room until he’s right in front of you. He meets your exasperated gaze, swiping a knuckle across the wrinkle forming between your furrowed brows. His bare chest grazing the front of your shirt, brushing your sensitive nipples when he takes a deep breath in.
“You heard me Peach.”
Before you can devise a swift retort, he bends down, setting his cup on the coffee table.
Only he doesn’t stop when the cup hits the glass with a sharp clink.
He keeps going until he’s down on both knees, head canted back to gaze up at you with brilliant azure eyes darkened with a simmering mirth that makes them darken.
He curves his hands around your bare calves and drags them across your soft skin until he’s grasping your hips, the calloused pads of his thumbs toying with the band of your panties.
“You’re not the only one who makes the rules in this relationship, Peach,” he states, voice deepening to a near growl.
The heady lust in his tone sends a jolt right to your clit, making it pulse once, twice, your stomach tensing as warmth spreads across you.
“Yes, I am.” Swallowing the whimper at the base of your throat, you steady your voice. “You don’t make-oh," you cry out, eyes widening.
Holy shit, did he just smack your pussy-that whimper you were pushing down arises, sweeping past your lips on a faint huff of air-when he gently slaps you again.
“Aht, aht,” he admonishes, pressing a finger down the middle of your panties until a crease forms, your arousal soaking through the thin material. "I wasn't talking about me."
He didn’t think it was possible to be addicted to a person until he met you. Your soft curves perfectly complement the hard planes of his body, fitting around him like God herself handcrafted you solely for him.
“You had your turn, now it’s sweet girls’ turn to talk.” His cobalt eyes descend from your face down to your pussy, he places a kiss on the damp spot.
Soft lips still pressed to your clit, he slides his hands back to your hips, hooking his thumbs under your panties; easing them down until they’re fluttering to your ankles.
You preen under his adoring gaze despite your best efforts to hold on to the irritation slipping through your fingers like sand.
“She makes the rules too, Peach,” he hums out, trailing two thick fingers down your pussy, over your aching clit with a firm, languid pass until he’s at your sopping wet slit. “And I have to listen to both of my girls.”
You’re not going to disagree with that.
“What kind of man would I be if I ignored her?” Bucky continues, sinking his fingers inside your tight wet cunt until he's knuckle deep, slowly taking them out, smirking when you clench around him. “Look at her already, trying to suck me back in. Gotta give her what she wants.”
And he does. Thrusting back into you so hard you rock backward, he steadies you with his other hand, muttering out a soft don’t run sweet girl, his wrist rotating, fingers rubbing harder and harder as he searches for your spot, the smooth, cold metal pad of his vibranium thumb rolling over your swollen clit.
“Bucky.” His name comes out as a wet moan, hips arching into his hand. “Fuck.”
Placing his warm hand on your belly, he slides it up until he reaches your neck, warm long fingers close over your throat.
“Shh Peach,” he orders, a smirk toying at his lips. “Sweet girl is speaking now, we gotta listen to her. Pay attention.” The command in his baritone voice makes you shiver.
The salacious sounds of your pussy reverberates in your ears. He fucks you faster, deeper, his fingers gliding over your spasming walls, the obscene schlickschlickschlick gets louder and louder.
“That’s my good girl,” he says, gaze locked on your pussy swallowing his fingers, your slick dripping on his palm. Bucky’s praise has another moan preening from your lips. “That’s what you need, sweet girl. You wanna cum for me, don’t you? I’ll spend my life on my knees to keep you both happy.”
“Please,” you sob out, grinding down on his hand, visceral sensations pulse through your veins, thighs trembling as the pleasure takes over your body. “S’good, you’re so good.”
“There you go, I got you, Peach, I got you.” He does. Bucky is the only thing keeping you upright, your hands buried in his hair, gripping the silky strands for balance.
“Go on and cum for me. Give it to me.” He applies more pressure to your throat, your breaths come out, thin and raspy.
Ohgodohgodohgod
“Or I’ll take it myself, take it right from your pretty pussy- “ Bucky leans forward, his lips wrapping around your clit, tracing over it with his tongue. “-until you two learn your orgasms are all fucking mine.” He sucks your swollen little clit into his warm, wet mouth.
Ohgodohgodohgod
Sultry white-hot sensations erupt inside you, overwhelming your senses. You’re going to combust from the intensity. Something twists inside of you, a formidable knot getting tighter and tighter, your stomach constricting as the pressure mounts.
You try to pull away, needing just a second to catch your breath, to recoup. Bucky chuckles, the amused sound drifting up as he brings you back. You’re not going anywhere, he can’t let you go until you give him what he needs. Bucky shakes his head, your clit still trapped between his lips.
You convulse, clenching down around his fingers, your own yanking his hair so hard he swears he’s losing strands. It’s worth it to see you so utterly wrecked, a smug satisfaction brimming in his blue eyes as he watches you fall apart for him, drenching his hand while he prolongs your orgasm with languid strokes over your velvety walls.
One orgasm melds into another until you’re sobbing, overwrought with pleasure, incoherently pleading that you can’t even as your pussy pulls him back in, greedy for more of the unbelievable pleasure he’s giving you.
When your cries are reduced to whimpers and your hands fall from his hair, Bucky releases you with a pleased smirk.
He stands, guiding you to the couch, his hands on your hips, massaging small circles into your skin. “That’s my girl, so fucking good for me.”
You collapse on the cushions, laughter bubbling up as you float down from your high. “That was incredible,” you pant, placing your forearm over your eyes.
“I know it was good,” he replies, sucking the rest of your climax off his thumb. “I know what my girls like.”
“Yes you do,” you agree with a chuckle. You can’t even pretend to be upset at his cock tone, not with his face drenched and tremors still skating up your thighs.
“Now I don’t know if you were paying attention when my sweet girl was going over the rules,” Bucky steps between your legs, pushing your knees into your chest.
Oh.
You almost forgot how this entire thing started. Judging by the mischievous gleam in his eyes, he didn’t.
“She said I have to keep her stretched and full otherwise,” he trails off, pushing his thick, veiny cock into your sensitive pussy, still so wet that he slides right in, right where he belongs, your combined gasps ringing in your ears as you clamp down on his swollen head.
Oh fuck.
“She’s going to be very,” he slides inch by inch, “very upset with us,” he finishes, bottoming up until you’re stretched taut around his throbbing length. “So I gotta do what she says, Peach.”
“After all, she makes the rules.”
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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enamel - series master list
enam·​el • to beautify with a colorful surface
inspired by summer walker’s ‘i’ll kill you’. which, give it a listen and you’ll get the gist of where this will go.
it won’t be out until mid-september as i’m still taking time for myself but i got inspired seeing @cherienymphe​ and @punani​‘s series master lists for their upcoming fics. may i have an ounce of their talent, amen. also a big thank you to @geminixevans​ for listening to me flesh out some details.
summary | if your marriage to ransom drysdale was a lit match, he’s the kerosene.
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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Can you do a Drabble of the reader and the prophet from off the grid? Like interacting
Chess
Word Count: 500
Warnings: 18+ ONLY due to the off the grid au, mentions of a cult but otherwise tame.
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“Remember,” your mother tells you quietly, covering your arms with a white cardigan. “You speak when spoken to. Otherwise, you stay silent. You’re there to listen.”
You nod, unsure why she’s whispering. For whatever reason, she’s nervous, her fingers slightly shaking as she fixes your sweater.
“Are you alright?” you ask, her eyes snapping up to yours as she nods quickly.
“This is important. Promise me you’ll listen.”
“I promise.”
She sighs, looking over her shoulder as the door opens.
“Is she ready?” your father asks, your mother swallowing hard.
“Yes.”
Your father gives you a once over before he nods in agreement.
“Good.”
-
“Do you play chess?”
The dark haired man gives you a smile as you sit, hands in your lap while you look at the chessboard. He’s more rugged today, a thin beard covering his face and his hair tousled.
“I could learn.”
“Hm,” the man replies, giving you a stare. “Checkers?”
“I could learn.”
“I’m sure you could. But you cook, you clean, you know how to sew, to knit. Those are everyday things that are expected of you. Do you have any hobbies?”
You pause for a moment, unsure of what to say.
“I like to read.”
“You read?” His blue eyes bore into yours and you swallow hard.
Reading is forbidden. Your mind goes blank for a moment, his stare softening.
“It’ll be our secret then,” he says with a smile. “Don’t worry.”
You’re silent still, looking at the chess pieces.
“Do you know why I wanted to see you?”
“No, Sir,” you answer, watching him pick up a piece.
“This is a King,” he tells you, showing you the glossy black piece. “It is the most important piece in the game. It can move in any direction.”
You nod along as he places it down and picks up another piece.
“This is a Queen. The most powerful piece,” he emphasizes. “The Queen is the strongest piece. She can move vertically, horizontally or diagonally.”
He places the piece back down as you blink, his smile on display.
“I want you to learn how to play chess,” he instructs. “Keep me company. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He turns to the table next to him, giving you a lacquered box as you hold it in your lap.
“Consider that a gift. Practice. No more reading.”
Your fingers run over the silky gloss, looking down at it for a moment before you realize you haven’t answered him.
“Of course, Sir. No more reading.”
“Your matching day is coming up, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Hmm. Perhaps you’re ready this time. I trust there won’t be anymore outbursts?”
“None, Sir,” you answer quickly. “I’m ready.”
“Good. You’re free to go home and practice.”
“Thank you, Sir,” you reply, getting up slowly as you clutch the box to your chest like a prize.
He watches you leave before he turns back to the chess pieces. You won’t be matching with anyone.
He’ll have you as his Queen.
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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Endless Gifsets of Ari Levinson (2/?)
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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Title: The night before... Life Part One of the See You Again series Pairing: Ducky (Dayton White x Bucky Barnes) Rating: Mature Word Count: 5,920 Warnings: At the beginning they are both 18, Angst, Cigarette Smoking, Mentions of Underage Drinking, Self doubt, Self Worth Issues, Bit of a slow burn, changing point of views Summary: A part of growing up is growing apart. With the end of high school came the end of them. Bucky Barnes goes off to college while Dayton White gets a job at his father’s garage. And while they had thought maybe they would last, life got in the way. What happens when they meet again, ten years later? Author's Note: So, I stumbled upon this song "See You Later (Ten Years)" by Jenna Raine and as I was listening I got inspired to write a fic for it. My problem? I couldn't figure out what ship to write it for. When I told my friend and muse, Dayton, about the idea he suggested to me to make it a short series and just do all the ships that I enjoy. So here is the first part of a series of unconnected One Shots with the same idea. The title and first part of this story is inspired by Carrie Underwood’s song “The Night Before Life Goes On.” Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.
Nobody has permission to save, translate, repost, upload, or do anything with my fics. My fics are only posted on AO3, if you see them on any other site such as wattpad please let me know.
friend tag: @daytonsferrari @steveng-rogers @jobean12-blog @anothermcublog @daddyandybarber @eurynome827
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The night before…. 2012
Dayton sighs and takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing out the smoke and looking off into the distance. In a perfect world this wouldn’t be his last night with Bucky and they would be driving off into the sunset together like the cheesy couple Bucky seemed to think they were and wanted them to be. But they didn’t live in a perfect world, they lived in the real world, and most of the time people didn’t always get what they wanted. That’s just how the world worked. It didn’t exist to make people happy and the universe sure liked to laugh at people.
Keep Reading on AO3
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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↬ Andy Barber | Do Not Repost
~ do not repost anywhere. I do not give permission to anyone to repost my moodboards / edits Reblogs are fine.  My edits are usually for my own fics / ideas, they are not to be used for yours.~
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~ do not repost anywhere. I do not give permission to anyone to repost my moodboards / edits Reblogs are fine.  My edits are usually for my own fics / ideas, they are not to be used for yours.~
Happy Valentine's Day
Friend tag: @daytonsferrari @steveng-rogers @daddyandybarber
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myfic-myheart ¡ 2 years
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•|One Man’s Trash…|•
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✨Pairing✨: Dennis BakerxBlack Reader
Summary🪄: You’ve got a bit of a soft spot for one of your regulars
⚠️: mention of divorce, talks of intimacy (including said statement of 🍆👀 lol), mention of pregnancy, small instance of harassment, implications of mental/emotional abuse, mostly fluff
A/N🎙: So this was inspired by @syntheticavenger and her Dennis fic which is amazing and so wonderfully written, so please go read it if you haven’t. I thought this would be a cute idea and I hope you guys like it☺️! Also don’t judge me for writing about this hamburger out the toilet eating man; for the sake of this story that was a drunk moment lol.
Ridding the circular table of the small sprinkles of sugar and drops of coffee left by the previous customer, you can’t control the sympathetic sigh that passes your lips at the sight of your more known customer in the corner. He typically came with his wife, but you’d noticed for a couple months she came less and less until she didn’t show at all. That typically wasn’t a good sign.
Especially with his once cheerful face falling to a mix of sorrow and disappointment. Maybe even shame.
“So, think the Dodgers are goin’ all the way this year?,” you ask, now close enough to notice the newspaper spread in front of him open to the sports section.
“I’m sorry?”
“I asked if you thought the Dodgers would make it to the World Series, since you’re uh on the sports page.”
“Oh! Um I’m not really into sports,” he nervously chuckles pushing his large frames higher on his nose. “Really just looking at the cartoons over here.”
“Aw it’s Peanuts,” you smile looking over the black and white drawings depicting Snoopy and Woodstock in another one of their adventures. “My dad used to cut them out and put it with my lunch when I was little.” Although brief, the soft smile that graced his lips has your heart warming as well knowing you’d brightened his day even if just for a moment.
And surprisingly, you were hoping you could do it again, or as many times needed to turn his recent melancholy mood.
“My wi-I mean ex wife, used to complain I was hogging the paper for only wanting to look at silly, childish drawings. It’s the first time I’ve looked at them in three years.” You always did get this feeling whenever she’d step in the bakery that she’d honestly rather be somewhere else—anywhere really. If it was raining, she’d make poor Dennis brave the strong winds and harsh droplets to pick up their dozen of cupcakes. She wouldn’t even help with opening the car door for him, instead looking down at her phone as he performed a bit of a balancing act with the cupcakes and coffees.
When Dennis would order both of their usuals; his a standard hazelnut iced coffee, hers a caramel latte with soy, light sugar, and two full shots of espresso exactly, she seemed annoyed. Crossing her arms when Dennis would try to sweetly grasp her hand as they waited. Slender fingers tapping her phone screen while her foot impatiently tapped on the wooden floor below. As soon as their order was called, she quickly grabbed her drink scurrying through the front door without so much as a “thanks” let alone a tip.
With an embarrassed tilt to his lips cringing as she called for him to hurry up because she had more important things to do, he’d slide a $10 bill into the tip jar as he said a soft “thank you.” You felt bad for thinking it, but he deserved better. Someone who didn’t treat him like a burden or like that pesky mosquito that just wouldn’t leave you alone. Albeit nerdy, he was caring, kind, incredibly sweet to anyone around, and should be loved for all he was.
“Well by all means take as long as you want,” you smile. “We get a good amount delivered every day so you never have to worry about hogging here.”
Being called over by another customer, you missed the blush that crept along his cheeks just as pink as the polo shirt he wore. The way his eyes shyly followed you to your new table, occasionally glancing your direction time after admiring how sweet you always were to every customer. From then on, he frequented the shop more often coming late morning/early afternoon. He’d sit somewhat far off with his coffee and newspaper at first, but eventually built enough courage—from your friendly smile and pleasant small talk—to sit at the table nearest to the pick up area. A prime location to talk with you between orders and smell the mix of berries and citrus from your perfume when the fan would hit you just right, causing an intoxicating breeze to occupy his nostrils.
“Which one is it this time?,” you cheerily ask leaning over the counter as if you could see the small drawings on the paper. It took Dennis a moment to register what you were asking with your chest casually pushed forward and sunlight shining on your delicate skin just right. He even had to remember to breathe quickly looking down at the paper while clearing his throat.
“Um it’s Charlie this time. He stopped at Lucy’s lemonade stand and she tricked him by charging him more. Snoopy knocked down the fake sign though so he found out just as he gave her the money.”
“Lucy’s still being mean to poor Charles,” you giggle with a light shake of your head.
“Y-Yea, I don’t think that’ll ever change,” Dennis briefly laughs along with you before his nerves start getting the best of him. Well, again.
For a couple of weeks now he’d wanted to see if maybe you’d like to have a conversation outside the coffee shop. Perhaps even over dinner or lunch. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable though, or potentially upset you thinking all the talks and sweet exchanges were just to get in your pants. You were the closest friend he had right now, and he’d hate to lose that.
“H-Hey, um Y/N?”
“Yea?”
He nervously wipes his palms on the front of his khakis as he stands, carefully approaching the bar with fingers fidgeting by his sides.
“Everything okay?,” you ask a bit concerned from the redness around his neck and ears. Dennis practiced this at home many times knowing exactly what he’d say and be able to calmly walk up to you and ask you out. He didn’t take into account the pressure of the actual execution and you staring attentively at him with those eyes he could never look too long in before getting lost.
“Yea! Yea everything’s fine. But um s-speaking of change-,”
“Afternoon sunshine,” a man interrupts lightly bumping into Dennis on his way to the counter where you both stood. Taller, more muscular, and definitely more stylish than Dennis, he was worried at first glance fearing that this mystery man would steal you away. Or had already done so.
But from the roll of your eyes—a key sign of your annoyance he’d come to learn—he felt the lump in his throat slowly dissolve.
“I’m working Cannon.”
“Not right now,” he smirks. With his dazzling smile and clear, golden brown skin, anyone could assume he was a model. And they probably did from the cocky way he carried himself and strode about, no doubt letting the compliments boost his ego and inflate his head.
“Hey, you mind? Kinda in my space,” Cannon directs towards Dennis shooing him away with the tilt of his head back towards the door.
“S-Sorry.” He gave the two space, but something inside told him not to go too far away. Was it his slight jealousy? His own intuition telling him to be aware? Maybe both.
“So sunshine-,”
“Please don’t call me that,” you state looking past him to take the order of the older woman waiting behind him.
“Why? You know you’ll always be my sunshine.”
“Not after you slept with my cousin in my bed. Speaking of, she know you’re down here?” He manages to catch your hand after giving the customer her chamomile tea and packs of honey, pinning your smaller hand to the counter with no escape.
“That’s in the past and was admittedly a mistake. Let me show you how different things’ll be now.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Cmon Y/N, don’t act like you haven’t been thinking of me,” he pouts, grip growing a bit tighter as you try to get away.
“I’m not acting, now let go Cannon.”
“Still keeping up with this hard to get game? Starting to get a bit old sunshine.”
“Leave her alone.”
Both of you turn to see Dennis, now standing closer and appearing to not really know how to hold his arms going back and forth from folding them in front of his chest to letting them hang at his sides. You appreciated him for trying to stick up for you, but sweet Dennis really didn’t know what he was getting himself into. “Dennis don’t worry about me, I can handle it.”
“Yea Dennis, she’s fine,” he grins bringing your hand to his lips placing a kiss to your knuckles. The whole time holding eye contact with your, now angry, friend. “Plus this doesn’t really concern you.”
“If it’s pertaining to her it does.”
You couldn’t help but smile hearing his words and how he wanted to protect you. But at the release of your hand as Cannon stood sizing up this new challenger, your heart raced quickly going around the counter to stand between the two.
“You her new man huh?”
“N-No we’re uh just friends.”
“But you want to be. Don’t you? Why you’re trying to prove yourself as some saving knight so she has no choice but to fall head over heels for you?”
“Cannon enough, just get out.”
“Nah he wants a fight, then go ahead Dennis. I’ll even give you first shot,” he smirks with arms out giving him said free range to throw the first punch.
“I-I don’t want to fight. Just leave her alone, okay? S-She doesn’t want you anymore, m-move on to s-someone else.”
His nerves were at an all time high not knowing what would happen next. Whether Cannon would come to his senses and leave or become angrier that he wasn’t getting his way. Plus your back against his chest wasn’t helping his heart rate as you attempted to shield him.
Looking between the two of you, there’s a moment of silence before he jumps towards Dennis faking as if he were about to throw a punch clearly catching both of you off guard. You slightly flinched while poor Dennis cowered so hard his shoe slipped against the hardwood floor making him fall backwards; smacking his elbow against the counter in the process. Cannon laughed to himself watching you kneel next to him, observing his reddened elbow in your hands to make sure he was okay.
“You know my number sunshine,” he winks haughtily walking out of the little coffee shop as if nothing happened. The few customers you had remaining immediately coming over to ask if you and Dennis were okay, or needed them to call the police to which you politely declined.
“It’s starting to swell, maybe we need to go to the hospital.”
“No I’m fine,” he hissed holding his arm closer to him, not daring to extend it. “Probably just need to ice it.”
“And what if it’s more? I really think you need to see a doctor.”
He knew you were right. The way his elbow uncomfortably throbbed and felt stiff didn’t seem like a good sign. He was embarrassed though, not being able to stand tough against your ex and be that protector he always wanted to be. Something else his ex-wife chastised him for.
“A rat has more fight in him than you.”
“How did I end up with someone so…weak?”
“Some way to stand up for you,” he laughs to himself as you help him stand to his feet. “Then again I should’ve known better. Tough is definitely not part of my DNA.”
“You stayed and stepped in when you knew I was uncomfortable and, although you may not think so, protected me from Cannon trying anything more. When he first told you to leave, you could’ve done that and left me to fend for myself but you didn’t. And I’m very appreciative for everything you did.” Leaning forward, your watermelon lips meet his warm cheek making it hotter from the sensation along his skin he’d dreamed about many nights. They were just as soft as he’d thought and selfishly, he wanted to ask for another so his lips wouldn’t feel left out. Instead though, he softly smiled shyly looking down tapping the fingers of his good arm against his opposite upper arm.
“Y-You’re welcome.”
———
“Sweetheart let me know if you get tired. I can get the scooter for you.”
“Dennis I promise I’ll be fine, we’re only getting a few things,” you giggle as you both walk through the busy supermarket. “Plus the doctor said I should be staying active.”
“True, but she also said not to over exert yourself,” he counters kissing your temple as you roll your eyes.
“You worry too much.”
“No, I just love you so much. There’s a difference sweetheart,” he winks as you reach the pharmacy. It wasn’t too long of a line, but there were two people waiting ahead of you and Dennis knew with your hunger and decreased patience, the next few minutes may not be fun for you.
“Why don’t you go ahead and get the ice cream? I’ll get your inhaler so you don’t have to stand in line.”
“You sure?”
“Yea it’s okay. You go ahead,” he warmly smiles gently squeezing your hand.
“Okay, I’m gonna find the bathroom first because I definitely feel my bladder being squeezed.”
Dennis can’t help smiling to himself watching you waddle away as fast as you could, hand on your belly trying to avoid an accident—well, another one. The pharmacist even had to call out to him with a “sir?” to bring his attention back.
“Sorry, pickup for Y/N Baker.” He’d never get tired of that name rolling off his lips.
“Dennis?,” he hears making him turn around to the last person he expected to see. Six years had passed since the last time he saw her, so he honestly figured she’d moved away and no doubt moved on.
“Susan…hi.”
He appeared the same since she watched him take his things out their formerly shared home all those years ago, except for his more modern looking black frames over his eyes. He clearly also had some change in style standing in a white tee, black joggers, and sneakers. With her he always wore khakis. Would probably even wear them to bed if they were soft enough.
“Y-You’re not in khakis,” she awkwardly smiles.
“Oh um yea. I still have a couple pairs, but these are a bit more comfortable. My wife bought them for me.”
“Wait…your wife?”
As if hearing your name, you appeared smiling beside Dennis with a basket of three different pints of ice cream and a couple bags of chips excited to show him what you’d found. “Honey look, they have new flavors! I couldn’t choose so I got them both plus our usual.”
“Sounds great! Um sweetheart I want to introduce you to-,”
“Susan. The ex-wife,” you finish for him snuggling closer into his side.
“Lovely to meet you,” she smiles. You can’t say the one you give back is genuine. “And I see congratulations are in order!”
Instinctively his hand finds your swollen belly, smile widening as it gently grazes up and down. “Thanks, we’re beyond excited to meet them.”
“Them?,” she repeats, wildly blinking and looking even dumber than you already knew she was.
“Yea, twins. Boy and girl.”
“Looks like there’s no bad penis over here after all,” you add with your fakest smile making sure the words stung just the same when she told them to Dennis.
From the way she looked down fumbling with the reusable bag in her hands, you achieved your goal.
“Well,” she clears her throat meeting both of your eyes again. “It looks like you’re doing just fine.”
“I am, really more than that actually. I’ve never been happier.” His lips on the top of your head leave you smiling to yourself, and it’s the final nail in the coffin sending Susan down the river and completely out of Dennis’ life. She couldn’t lie it was tough to hear, and honestly a bit confusing how Dennis managed to move on before her.
“I’m glad. Really I wish you both continued happiness.”
“Thank you. Well, we need to be going now so have good night,” you state with one final fabricated smile before pulling your husband along with you not giving her a chance to say anything further.
“Sweetheart, you promised you’d be nice if you ever ran into her,” Dennis whispers in your ear as you place the basket on the conveyor belt.
“That was before my emotions were dictated by two babies who do not like the lady who was very mean to daddy. And may I remind him was almost the reason said babies were not conceived.”
As can be expected, being continually berated can have lasting effects on one’s mind. You began trying to erase those words of doubt and criticism when you started dating—and before that even when you were still friends—but his problems with intimacy lasted the longest. Fearing that he couldn’t please you just as he couldn’t seem to do with Susan.
Dennis was so gracious for your patience as he worked through everything and that you stuck beside him. From the days he just wanted to hold you, or be held, to the days he felt a bit more daring wanting to try something from the list of your collective kinks. You supported him every step of the way doing whatever you could.
“Do not blame our unborn children on your tendency to be over-protective,” he grins pecking your neck just as the cashier tallies your total.
Collecting your groceries and journeying back to your car hand in hand, your eyes never leave the man beside you adoringly watching him safely maneuver the mini SUV through traffic while humming to the radio.
“Is there something on my face?,” he asks once stopped at a red light making you giggle.
“No, I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“…did you mean it when you said this is the happiest you’ve ever been?,” you ask, hand comfortably gliding along the base of your growing abdomen.
“Of course. More than you’ll ever know sweetheart.”
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