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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

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(In Our Togetherness) Castles Are Built

Learning to live together takes work. Written for @steggyfanevents Hearts or Butts Challenge (hearts, obv! well, hearts-ish)

AO3 link here.

They are not, it turns out, naturally compatible roommates.

Oh, they’re both courteous enough people. They both pitch in on cleaning up, take out the trash when the bin is full, replace the toilet paper roll or lightbulbs when needed instead of pretending they haven’t seen them - they’re not monsters.

But Steve wears his shoes inside the house without even thinking while Peggy takes hers off as she walks in the door, and she ends up irritated by the remaining street grit he unknowingly brings inside which she constantly feels through her nylons. He acquices easily when, three days in, she asks him to start removing his shoes when he comes home. He’s solicitous by nature and happy to make her happy. But they have been in such synchronicity since they met, in personality and values and choices, that these times when they stumble into dissonance are made all the more confusing for it.

And they keep stumbling. Peggy has changed from fire red nails to shell pink to deep plum, swiping firmly with polish remover and buffing and adding practiced coats in the evenings, before Steve mentions, carefully controlled, that the acrid smell in the small space is overwhelming to him. Several weeks later, as she asks him to contain his art supplies more carefully when he is in the midst of a project, she does not bring up the scent of paint in the room but the idea of it lingers.

He can’t understand why she insists on washing her breakfast plate and teacup even when she’s rushing out the door, and objects when she sighs and washes his too if he tries to leave them to wash with the supper dishes later. She can’t fathom why he insists on regularly listening to baseball games, and especially does not grasp why he must commentate aloud while he does, his soundtrack of groans and curses and punctuating affirmations making an already disruptive pastime she has no interest in even more so. He likes having the windows open, especially on these summer nights, and she closes them at every opportunity against the bugs and the noise, the city-scented breeze. She buys new paperbacks nearly every week or at least every other, and he stares baffled at the living room bookshelf, quickly filling with books she will likely never read again, and reminds her of their local library.

They are not good at it at first. But they do, it turns out, get better at it.

“It might be sensible to have a box of cold cereal in the house,” Peggy calls from the bedroom one morning. They’ve once again spent a bit too much time in bed, and as she rushes to get ready for the day, he’s gone to prepare toast and an egg for her - soft-boiled because they’re short on time.

“Easier for us on mornings like this,” he calls back, “but easier for the pests too.”

Coming into the room affixing an earring, she asks, “Do we have some sort of infestation?”

“Nothing I’ve seen lately, but you never know with these kinds of things.” He shrugs.

“I suppose not,” she says, reaching down plates for the two of them (no time even for egg cups). “But I don’t usually think of it.”

He laughs, taking out the butter. “Oh, you would if you’d seen the things I have,” he says, and it’s lucky Peggy isn’t squeamish or easily put off her food, because the casual mentions over breakfast of occasional scuttling roaches and his mother’s broom corralling fist-sized rats would turn a weaker stomach.

“I had thought your insistence on canisters for the oats and sugar was simply a homey touch,” she comments as she slips on her pumps and glances around for her portfolio.

“It is,” he says, handing it to her along with her purse. “Just from a different kind of home than you’re used to.”

That evening, when she comes home and sees his shoes leveled neatly beside each other by the front door, she asks him about that too. She hadn’t even thought to before. And he tells her about floors that somehow always seemed grimy no matter how often they cleaned, about times when there wasn’t any heat - not in the dead of winter, not usually, but in the trailing autumn and snappish early spring when the chill was still biting - and Steve and his mother kept their shoes on because taking them off would have meant frigid feet.

And so they begin to understand each other. Not automatically the way they do with so much else, not without asking, but in a different way, just as deep, just as necessary. She tells him about growing up with a mother who insisted that everything in the house be tidied before it was possible to turn to the marketing or visiting friends, about boarding school demerits for an unmade bed or an incompletely cleared table in the refectory (Peggy was somewhat particular about how she acquired her demerits), about going into shelters during the Blitz (or sometimes not going into shelters) wondering if someone was going to have to return to her bedsit and find her clothing dropped onto the floor or a crumb-covered dish on the table, remnants of a life to which she would never return.

He still doesn’t feel the need to keep things as constantly tidy as she does, but now he knows that element of her, sees her requests not as something to tolerate but to understand as a part of who she is. And she understands, too, about how comforting he finds the smell of paint, the sounds and scents of the city, how familiar they are, how sometimes for weeks throwing the windows wide and letting those things in was the only way he had been able to have a bit of the outdoors with him. She didn’t know him then, but she knows about that part of him now.

So they compromise, buying window screens and keeping the gap to only a few inches, switching places in bed so Steve sleeps closer to the window, feeling the play of air across his face as he falls asleep.

They compromise, agreeing that Peggy can polish her nails as long as she leaves a window open. Steve has always liked how they look anyway and, more importantly, how they make her feel: pretty and coordinated and in control of the way she’s perceived. With the issue of smell dealt with, he can admire each new color she chooses. They decide that Steve’s tradition of listening to baseball can continue at a lowered volume and with more limited commentary, though Peggy eventually finds herself looking over with fondness at his avid appreciation of the game (even if, when he finally takes her to one in person, she still finds it far inferior to cricket).

She becomes more judicious about buying books, finally allowing herself to leave behind her tradition of newly purchased detective stories that buoyed her during the war; they go to browse at the library together during evening hours instead. He starts running free art classes at the local community center and is allowed to have his own easel there for paintings in progress.

Peggy is permitted to take Steve’s undershirts and button-downs without asking as long as she knows they’ll return to him after laundry day. Steve can eat her marmalade, but only if he’s reasonable about his sampling and willing to buy another jar if he finishes the last of it.

“I sort of liked the part where you were all exasperated with each other,” a disgruntled Howard tells them, heaping a serving of spaghetti onto his plate the first time they host dinner at their place. “Some of us like it when you aren’t perfect all the time.”

Steve laughs. “We definitely aren't perfect, but we had something good and we knew it.”

“Well, you knew enough to be damn obvious about it,” Bucky says, helping himself to bread. “And not do anything but moon for years.”

“We were at war,” Steve scowls. “And we were taking time to build a foundation.”

“And now we know,” Peggy takes over smoothly, “that good foundation or not, relationships actually take work.” She knocks back the last of her scotch sour (she’d charmed the recipe out of the bartender at the Stork Club) and looks at Howard over the rim of the empty glass. “Perhaps one day you’ll be lucky enough to take part yourself.”

Mr. Jarvis coughs politely into his wine glass, his mouth thinned against a laugh. Ana reaches over to cuff her husband on the shoulder before patting Howard on his. “I’m sure you will one day,” she says with kind consolation.

“Not one day soon, I hope,” Howard says. “I’ll leave that kind of work to you for now.”

And they keep working at it, communicating and laughing and finding middle ground, discovering who they have each been and who they can be together. They make a life that is theirs: talking in the mornings while Peggy puts on her makeup, their eyes catching in the mirror; sitting down together every month to pay bills and review their savings, their plans for them the future, treating themselves to something sweet once it’s done (berry tarts when Steve buys, brownies when Peggy does); a dance at midnight on New Year’s Eve regardless of where they are.

It’s an art, living together, being together, and they become expert at it.

And, several years down the road, when the new roommate they’ve discussed - a smaller, squirmier sort of roommate - joins the family, they plan to teach them too.

#steggyheartsbutts #Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #well..........¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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milkandhoneyoongi · 6 years

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waiting (jungkook smut)

request: Hey can I request a Jungkook fluffy smut ? Where we're married and are parents to one year old baby and we haven't really had the chance to get intimate with one another ever since the baby came because I was too paranoid to leave the baby alone. Do take your time with it~ Thank you so much for all the fics you write ! I really enjoy them !

a/n: yall this is so...impossibly soft. just giggly and happy smut lol i hope you all enjoy it

you can always send me a request here and view my old imagines here

genre: fluff/smut

word count: 1,644 words

warnings: obv this is smut so it includes all the usuals, oral (female receiving) and light dirty talk

You knew having a kid would be hard. Certainly not sleeping as much and having to spend entire paychecks on things you never thought you would need. You hadn’t, however, anticipated how difficult it would be to remain close with your husband Jungkook with the knowledge that something could happen to your baby in the other room while you were distracted, whether by more intimate moments or even just a simple date night. It was… the most difficult part, you had learned.

He was the only one really to support you through this process, and he did such an amazing job, but you could tell that going so long without being intimate was wearing on him, and often you thought of asking one of the other members to look after your child for a night so you could offer the two of you a moment of rest, but your brain never turned off baby mode and for that reason you often forgot the idea the moment you had it.

Jungkook, however, was seldom in baby mode, and just wanted you near to him again. So he didn’t forget about the prospect of having a night to yourselves, and one night his dream came true. Seokjin and Yoongi had offered to take care of the baby for a few hours so you two could have a date night and he pounced at the opportunity, thanking his hyungs over and over again.

When you came home from work that day, the house was near silent except for the soft music that was playing from your speakers. You cocked your head to the side. Normally when you came home Jungkook was struggling to get the baby quiet, but today you’d guessed he had it under control. “Jungkook?” Your voice echoed back to you as you called out his name.

“Y/N!” You grinned at the sound of his voice, smile widening even further when he emerged from the bedroom and pulled you into his arms.

“Wh-” You looked around, confused. “Where is the baby?” You pulled away, hands gripping his shoulders as you considered the possibilities.

“I found us a babysitter for the night.” You could read on his face that he was, in fact, telling the truth and that your child was not hanging on the balcony and felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized that this meant a night of having Jungkook all to yourself.

“That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever told me.” He chuckled and you leaned forward, bringing his lips to yours. You dropped your bag to the side of the entryway and managed to keep your mouths latched as he slipped your coat off of your shoulders and you slipped your shoes off of your feet.

He hummed against your lips, rubbing his hands up and down your arms and just enjoying the feeling of your skin for a moment. “Missed this, so much.” You groaned in agreement, allowing him to tug you to the bedroom, lightly pushing you against the soft covers of the bed. Two arms pinned on either side of you as his lips met yours again, a smirk plastered across his face as he took one hand to stroke the soft skin of your waist. Your breath hitched as his hand snaked up your shirt and ghosted over your breast, his touch so delicate if you weren’t so sensitive you wouldn’t have felt it at all. Jungkook had to hold himself back, nearly moaning at the feel of your skin against his.

You reached down, tugging your shirt over your head and he marveled at the sight of your beautiful body, a boyish grin tugging his lips as he straddled your hips and began kissing his way down your neck, lingering at your collarbones and then again at your breasts. Your hands twirled into his hair, wanting him to know how much you were enjoying the attention, and enjoying it you were.

It had been almost a year since you felt his lips where he was then, down your stomach to the waistband of the jeans you wore. He pressed a kiss right above the button, staring up at you with the giddiest expression on his face that you nearly laughed as he unfastened the button and slid your jeans down your legs. His hands immediately wrapped around to cup your full rear, fingers happily dipping into the flesh and kneading it in his grasp.

He let out a quiet moan against your skin, enjoying the feel of you in his hands once again. It felt like a homecoming of sorts, being able to put all stress of the baby aside and just be with you like it used to be. He loved the baby, he really did, but he missed you.

You gasped as he put his lips over your panties, right where he knew your clit would be, allowing his tongue to please your clothed sex.

“Jungkook-ah,” you moaned, hands tightening their grip on his hair.

“Just want to make you feel good, jagi. Relax for once, will you?” he hummed against the fabric, looking up to you with a teasing glint in his eye. “What do you want, huh? You want my tongue?” You nodded furiously, glaring back at him playfully. He succumbed to your wishes, tugging your panties down your legs and slipping them off your ankles, kissing his way back up your legs with fervor, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your mound. “You’re so wet for me, jagi. We’ve waited too long,” he groaned before deciding he couldn’t wait to have you any longer, delving into the lips of your sex with his hungry tongue, sliding through your juices and up to your clit, pulling the bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You let out a loud moan, fingers desperately tugging on his curls, desperately pulling him closer.

Again he hummed against you, pleased at your response, “You like this, yeah?” You whimpered, the feeling of his mouth on the most sensitive parts of you stealing the breath from your lungs as you struggled to find the words. He found himself unable to control his grin as soft gasps fell from your lips instead. “Mmm, you gonna come for me, jagi?”

“Jungkook-ah,” you moaned, nodding. He laughed at your state, too pleased to tell him how close you were, but he could tell when he took two of his fingers and sent them deep into your sex, feeling you tighten around them as he curled against that spot. That spot that made you see stars, moans exponentially louder now as you felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter. At this point your hips were rolling against his face, so close to ecstasy that you couldn’t keep your eyes open. “I’m there, jagi, don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” you whimpered, hands gripping his hair, and then your eyes shot open as you felt your orgasm roll over you. His fingers and tongue working you through it until you let out a deep breath and then laughed a little bit. “I missed that,” you murmured, giggled, even as he kissed his way up your chest and to your lips, bringing you into another heated kiss.

“You good for one more?” He gasped, and you could feel his clothed erection against your mound.

“Always,” you grinned, winking at him as he hastily stood to his feet, bringing his pants and briefs to the ground before climbing back on top of you. You shivered as you felt his hard cock slide through your folds before he pushed inside, letting out a groan at the feeling of your walls around him.

“You feel so good, jagi,” he gasped, stilling for a moment before moving his hips, slowly gaining speed as he got carried away in the feeling.

You groaned, “Ah fuck, Jungkook, feels so good.” The two of you had swapped roles at this point, Jungkook unable to find the words to explain how good it felt to be inside you again. It really had been far too long, he realized. Knowing he would need to feel you tighten as your orgasm approached for him to reach his own climax, he reached down, rubbing his thumb in tight circles against your clit as he angled his thrusts. Feeling the most intense waves of pleasure wrack your body, you threw your head back, letting out a loud moan as you felt yourself get impossibly close once again. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, jagi,” he groaned into your ear, pressing soft and sloppy kisses to your jawline before resting his forehead against yours. “Just need to feel you come.” His words sent you higher and higher before you reached your peak, barely noticing Jungkook had begun to reach his own climax, loud grunts and moans echoing in the room as the two of you experienced more pleasure over the course of a few seconds than either of you had in a year.

After a few moments you felt Jungkook collapse on the bed beside you, heavy pants tumbling past both of your lips as you came down from your highs.

“Jagi,” he whispered, turning on his side to look at your utterly exhausted form. “Y/N.”

“Mmm, what?” you hummed, smiling and turning to look back at him. He took note of the glow in your cheeks and the light that sparked in your eyes,

“We definitely cannot pick up a baby looking like this,” he gestured to your matted hair, and both of your sweat coated bodies.

“What are you suggesting?” you smirked.

He laughed, rising to his feet and using his grip on your hand to pull you with him toward the bathroom. “I’ve been waiting a whole year,” he shrugged, “The boys can wait another half hour.”

#bts #bts smut #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut

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