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#thank god i don’t respect her
loveinsomesacredplace · 2 months
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the disregard for Belly’s happiness is something I expect from the other side, but is so disappointing when it’s your own fandom
the fear/expectation that Jere’s character is going to be dismantled and denying that because you know the show has a narrative to push but not saying a word about the potential destruction of Belly’s character to further said narrative and expecting of it of her because she broke Jere’s heart in season 1 - and not considering, oh this is fucking bad writing too
The DISCONNECT
Show Belly, I’ll always love you, and that C endgame is not it for you
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this whole break up thing is going poorly. decided I was just gonna stop talking to him altogether which has been great but now I really want someone to explain video game lore and game construction in depth to me. not even a joke. I am in the mood for him to plainly explain a video game in every aspect to me as detailed as possible and for as long as possible.
#my mind is imprisoned by pathetic semi attractive sopping wet cat men mansplaining things I won’t retain in my mind#and to think I could have an attractive woman do that for me instead#guys I was going through pictures of us and he smiles in like 1/100 of them wtf#yeah thanks for looking absolutely miserable in every picture you’re in with me that definitely is attractive to me asshole#completely unusable pictures bro like I can’t even show anyone cuz it’s just me being me and smiling as a default#and HIM. JUMP OFF OF A BRIDGE!!#literally -_- and ^u^!! LIKE. not even remotely in a cute “imagine your otp” thing way either#god my dad told me that I could literally find someone exactly like him but richer and who treated me like royalty#my dad said that who LOVES my ex boyfriend. straight up went yeah I love him but he’s not special and treats you like shit!!#anyway I just want someone to info dump to me so badly#kinda feels good to think of all the things he could do to shatter my heart more rn and for me to just go#his loss!! like I’m not even bothered I think I cried as much as I possibly could over this#like oh no he gets a new girlfriend? good luck to her because I don’t think he has learned a single thing with this break up#oh no he doesn’t talk to me again and that’s that? why should I pine for someone who doesn’t even give me time of day#yeah it will hurt but it nothing could hurt how glad I am/will be once this is OVER.#he never respected me and shifted it to be my fault. yeah literally the only way I would take him back is#if he drove to my house with flowers and food I like and a stuffed animal and apologized for everything he ever did right then#and yeah and then he’d still be on trial run like nuh uh you gotta fucking prove it and smile in our pictures#but yeah some part of me hopes he does do that cuz ya know it does hurt just losing that connection completely#like I know he told me that his new friends treat him better than anyone he’s met but like come the fuck on#I just wish he did actually realize how much love I gave him that he never even appreciated. I just hope he appreciates it nowthat it’s gon#I just wish he realized that I was also his best friend too. but whatever
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shepardyke · 1 year
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MORTICIA AND WEDNESDAY’S GOODBYE… I AM SICK …
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starbuck · 2 years
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honestly very sexy of my genetics to give me my mom’s chin with my dad’s jawline… love this for me
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evansbby · 4 months
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝
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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.
𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!
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“The girl’s ready, Captain.”
Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”
“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve���s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.
His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.
That left Steve. But Steve had this.
I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.
Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.
And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.
You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.
“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”
Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.
“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.
Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.
And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.
After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.
And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.
“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”
Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…
“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.
He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.
“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”
“Get on the bed.”
“H-Huh?”
“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”
Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.
And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.
Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.
Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.
What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.
“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.
The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.
“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.
You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”
Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.
“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.
“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”
“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”
Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”
He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.
“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”
Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.
“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”
You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.
He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.
“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.
“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.
It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.
“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”
You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.
“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”
You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”
“Take it out.”
A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.
“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.
“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”
He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.
“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”
“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.
“Stroke it.” He instructs you.
You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”
“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”
You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.
“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”
Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.
“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”
You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.
He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.
“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.
Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.
“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”
You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”
“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”
Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?
He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.
“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”
“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”
Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.
Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.
“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”
You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.
Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.
But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.
“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.
“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”
There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”
“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”
Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.
Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.
He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.
He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.
“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.
“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.
“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”
He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.
Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.
“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.
With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.
It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.
You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.
“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”
It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.
He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.
“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.
You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,” you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”
Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.
“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”
His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.
“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”
With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.
“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”
“H-Huh?”
“You heard me.”
You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.
“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.
“You’ve never fingered yourself?”
“No!”
“Tell me why not.”
You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”
A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?” His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”
The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.
“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.
Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”
You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.
“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”
This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.
“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.
“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”
He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.
“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”
It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.
And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.
“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.
He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.
“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.
“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.
“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”
You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.
“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”
His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.
“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”
You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”
“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.
“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.
Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.
Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.
But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.
He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.
“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”
Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…
He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…
“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”
How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.
“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.
“N-No, Captain.”
“Why not?”
“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.
Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.
“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”
He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.
Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.
Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.
He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.
Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.
He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.
He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.
“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.
He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.
He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.
Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.
He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.
Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.
“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.
“Yes.”
You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.
“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”
“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.
You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.
“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”
A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.
He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.
Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.          
“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”
You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.
“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.
“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.
The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).
You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.
“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”
“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”
He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.
“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.
Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.
The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.
He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
You’ve passed out.
“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.
“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.
It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.
“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”
He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.
“I-It hurts!”
“Address me properly.”
“C-Captain, it hurts!”
He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”
Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.
“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”
Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.
“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”
You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”
Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!
With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.
“Now you can scream.”
“Huh?”
He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.
A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.
“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”
You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”
Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.
“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.
“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”
Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.
I deserve this, he thinks to himself.
He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.
“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”
You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”
“Answer me!”
“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.
Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”
“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”
The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…
For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.
“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.
“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”
Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.
He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.
“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.
He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”
You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.
“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”
He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.
“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –
“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.
“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”
“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.
“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”
“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”
 Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.
“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.
You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.
He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.
Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.
With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.
He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.
“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”
This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.
“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”
“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.
With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air.  It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.
“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”
It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.
“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”
“Wh-What?”
He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.
He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.
“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”
Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.
“Use your words.”
“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”
You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.
“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.
“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.
Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”
You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.
You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.
All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.
He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.
“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.
“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”
“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”
He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.
“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”
“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”
He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.
And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.
“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”
You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.
“Answer me, baby girl.”
“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”
“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.
But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.
“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”
You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”
“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”
Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.
“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”
“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.
“Wh-What–”
“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”
Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”
He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.
“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”
Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.
 With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.
Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.
“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”
Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”
Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”
“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”
“N-No, I–”
He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.
“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”
“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.
“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”
You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.
“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”
“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.
The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.
“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.
“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.
Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.
Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.
Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.
***
It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.
The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.
“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.
“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”
The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.
“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”
“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”
They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.
“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.
His beautiful, broken little bride.
“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”
Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.
Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.
He deserved this.
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AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.
ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!
5K notes · View notes
bfbkg · 8 months
Note
i was just watching buzzfeed— dave franco and alison bries couple interviews and if you haven’t done it already, reading thirst traps together?
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COUPLES THIRST TWEETS
you and your boyfriend are invited to read thirst tweets on buzzfeed
cw: HERE YOU GO. suggestive. sfw. dialogue based.
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“he’s been looking forward to this one.”
bakugou arches an eyebrow. typical crossed arms, way too casual for an interview but this is expected from him. since you’re beside him, he says more than on his own.
“have i?”
“nope. he hates when people thirst over him and over me.”
“people have no BLEEP-ing decorum. unless it’s you sayin’ it to me.”
you laugh looking to the camera, “it’s a good thing i’ll be the one saying it to him today!”
“oh god this one is long. ‘why did nobody tell me how fine dynamight is? i just saw a newspaper cover of him half naked and bloody on my way to work and i’m thinking of going back home to touch myself’.” you cover your mouth when you’re done, giggles rippling through your body.
your boyfriend makes a loud, “hah? no fuckin’ way. see that’s just…” he rips the paper out your hand to read it again.
“you are a hazard. the blood makes you look all ragged and sexy.”
he meets your eyes, pointing at you, “you people are crazy. i was bleedin’.”
“for fucks sake, ‘if yn wants i will be her dog and serve her all day because there is no reason a woman that beautiful should do anything she doesn’t want. wanna eat her ass.’”
you laugh out loud while bakugou skims it again, “why the fuck did they have to add that last part. it was doin’ okay.”
“you think it’s okay someone wants to be my dog?”
bakugou wipes his hand over his face, “nah, these people need to stay away from you.”
“would you be my dog?”
bakugou levels you with a stare. his frown and your sweet smile. it doesn’t last long before he breaks and smiles back at you, “i think i already am.”
“i think i would be able to BLEEP dynamight unlike anybody else. i’d massage him, relax him till he’s sleepy and then finger BLEEP his asshole. he looks like he needs it he’s so uptight.” you gasp, “they said you look like you need a finger up your ass!”
bakugou cannot help an amused, “what? BLEEP you! i’m stressed out all the BLEEP-ing time savin’ the world and in return i’m told i need to get fingered?”
you shrug, “maybe you do? your shoulders are so tight.”
“BLEEP you too, babe.”
“watchin’ interviews with yn and dynamight you know their sex is good. i’ve never seen dynamight so chill and yn laughs like he’s the funniest man on earth.” bakugou reads, then looks up, nonchalantly, “the sex is great.”
you shove him and he chuckles, “what?! they agree!”
“i do not laugh that much,” you shake your head, “the last person saying you look uptight and this one saying youre calm with me.”
“don’t put ideas in their heads,” he nudges his head to the camera, “tell them that the sex is good.”
“it’s alright.”
“baby.”
“great. showstopping. never been done before. amazing—,”
“yn talks and i’m just lookin’ at her tits. dynamight is a lucky man,” bakugou reads in a grumble before looking up in the camera, “BLEEP off.”
“they said you’re a lucky man!”
“yeah i am but that’s code for they wanna BLEEP you. it’s a weird compliment.”
“i look at your tits when you talk.”
“i know you do. i’m the only one with decency.”
“one night with bakugou dynamight katsuki. please please please please. i want him to rail me until i pass out.” you read, “understandable.”
“no thank you.”
you’re smiling, “really? that’s your response?”
“you’d want me to rail them until they pass out?”
you nod, “he’s such a respectful gentleman.”
bakugou grabs your stool and begins to shake it for you to fall off.
“i almost died!”
“if yn and dynamight want a sugar baby i am happy to give my application. i’d have my face in her ass and dynamight’s dick in my—woah—stomach,” bakugou reads, eyes widening at the last part. “her BLEEP-in’ stomach?”
he even frowns at the cameras completely disgusted, “where the BLEEP do you find these people?”
you could laugh at how prude he’s being, like he doesn’t say the same shit to you behind closed doors and you to him. “is that another respectful no then?”
“BLEEP no. you’re enough for me.”
“he’s already got a sugar baby.”
“who?” he blurts, squinting at you.
“me dummy.”
bakugou chuckles, his shoulders jumping. “she’s got her own money, dunno why she’s lyin’.”
you nudge his shoulder, “i like using yours though.”
if he wasn’t in front of the cameras he’d kiss your cheek since you’re leaning so close into him, “that’s alright with me.”
6K notes · View notes
riality-check · 7 months
Text
Steve, realistically, shouldn’t even be at this show. He doesn’t care about the band, he didn’t want to make the drive, and he had to bring Anna along because he couldn’t find a babysitter.
But he was going to suck it up to go with Dustin, who immediately bought tickets to see his favorite band when they went on sale. Who called Steve this morning to inform him, somehow both solemnly and frantically, that he had the worst food poisoning known to man, and, that until he stopped puking and shitting at the same time, he could not leave the bathroom.
Steve very much did not need to know that.
With Dustin went the rest of the Babysitters’ Club, all of them having eaten the same shady pizza and suffering the consequences. The only exception was Mike, lactose intolerant but cursed to take care of his idiot friends.
He texted Steve to ask if he had extra bleach. Steve dropped it outside the house because no way in hell was he entering that building.
Dustin assured him, amidst too much detail and shockingly disgusting background noise, that both tickets shouldn’t go to waste, and with no one able to babysit Anna, Steve should take advantage of both.
So, here he is. Standing in the first level - Dustin couldn’t get floor tickets, thank God - of a show for a metal band he has no intention of ever listening to and holding his four-year-old daughter, who has bright pink ear defenders looped around her neck in preparation for when it gets really, really loud.
“When are they starting?” she asks for the fourth time in as many minutes, with a sigh too big for her little body.
“In a few minutes,” Steve says, keeping an eye on the stage, where he watches the crew set up. Mad respect for them hustling so hard. He could never.
The seats are slowly filling up, and Steve feels a little sad for the first opener, a little sad that they don’t have a full house for their set.
A group of four guys takes the seats right next to Steve, with a pale, long-haired, big-eyed guy right next to him. He’s got tattoos on his arms and rings on all his fingers and a silver bar through his upper ear.
And he’s arguing emphatically with his friend next to him.
“I’m telling you, American Psycho is more recognizable!” he says, hands flying. Steve discreetly makes sure he and Anna aren’t within striking distance. “Not to mention cheaper!”
“A prop chainsaw,” his friend - a short white guy with shorter but equally wild hair - says, “can’t possibly be that hard to find by tomorrow.”
“We already have the axe!”
“I’m with Eddie,” the big white guy at the end of their group says. “I’m a sucker for American Psycho.”
“Okay, but I’m the guy who has to use the props,” the fourth friend, a Black guy with short braids who looks annoyed at this conversation, like they’ve had it before. “And I think I’d have more fun with the chainsaw.”
Eddie - the guy with long hair and heavy jewelry and hands with a mind of their own - rolls his eyes. It’s a full body movement, one that has him spinning to face Steve. When he does, his face cycles through a myriad of emotions too fast for Steve to really track.
“Hi, pretty boy,” he says. His eyes then dart down to Anna, who stares at him with her head cocked to the side. “Pretty dad. Dad. Pretty. Hi.”
“Eddie,” the short guy cautions.
“Yeah, sorry, anyway, can you be a tiebreaker for us?”
“Sure,” Steve says. Anna squirms, so he lets her out of his lap to stand, holding her hand all the while. “What do you need?”
“American Psycho or Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” the big guy asks.
“You gotta give him context.”
“No, I don’t, Jeff.”
The guy who said he’d be using the props - whatever that means - rolls his eyes and stops fighting.
“What’s American Psycho?” Anna asks, choosing the best time to pay attention to the conversation, like always.
“A movie you’re too young to see,” Steve says. “And the one I’m picking out of those two.”
“Oh, thank you,” Eddie says, using a tone that better fits Steve saving his drowning dog or something. He then turns to the rest of his friends and says, “I fucking told you!”
Anna gasps. “You’re not s’posed to say that!”
Jeff smothers a laugh behind his hands, while the other three guys stare at Anna, half confused, half admiring.
Eddie clears his throat, looking significantly abashed. "Sorry, Miss-"
"Anna," she says.
"Anna," Eddie finishes. Then he turns to Steve. "And you are?"
"Steve. No Mister for me though. I might be a dad, but I'm not that old."
"You are old, Daddy," Anna says.
Steve frowns down at her, where she stands at his feet. She's smiling, mischievous like she always is when she says something along these lines. "I'm not that old."
"Yeah you are! You're like, you're like, like, fifteen."
Jeff gives up on hiding his laughter.
"I'm older than fifteen," Steve says gently, trying not to laugh.
Anna’s jaw drops. “You are?”
“Thank God for that,” Eddie mutters, then shuts his jaw with an audible click.
Steve tried to come up with an answer for that, but someone comes on a mic and starts playing the drums, so he moves the defenders over Anna’s ears and pays attention to the show instead.
It's... fun, he guesses. Fun if he were into it, maybe. The first opener has a lot of energy, even if the music isn't melodic enough for Steve's taste. He finds himself tapping along to the steady beat, moving slightly in his seat to the music.
It's nice background noise. He'd put this on while he grades papers. It's steady enough to fill his head but doesn't have a whole lot of lyrics he could get distracted by and sing along to.
Eddie and his friends, meanwhile, are having the time of their lives. The short guy - Gareth, Steve thinks his name is - mimes the drum part of each song with startling accuracy. Archie jumps up and down, Jeff absolutely screams along, and Eddie-
Anna stares up at Eddie, eyes wide and jaw slacked as she watches him bang his head to the music.
Steve almost snaps a picture of it, this little moment, before the second song ends and Eddie snaps out of his zone.
He shakes the hair out of his face, then looks down at Anna, who's still staring at him. "What?"
She cocks her head to the side in a mirror of his. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"The," she pauses, then starts shaking her head really hard, side to side. Steve puts a hand on her shoulder before she slams into the chairs in the row in front of them.
Eddie laughs. "The headbanging?"
"Yeah," Anna says, nodding.
"It's a way I move to the music," Eddie explains.
"Like dancing?"
"Sort of," Eddie says. "It's easier. I look stupid when I dance."
"You're not s'posed to say that," Anna tells him solemnly. "Right, Daddy?"
Steve meets Eddie's eyes. Even with the lights down, they're big and pretty and reflective, and Steve is going to kick himself so hard if he chickens out before he can get his number.
"Right," he says, still looking at Eddie. "We're not supposed to call ourselves stupid."
"Sorry," Eddie whispers.
"Don't be."
Anna tugs on Steve's hand, then Eddie's. "Teach me."
"Anna," Steve cautions.
"Can you please teach me?" she corrects.
Eddie glances down at Anna, then back up at Steve. "If it's-"
"Go ahead," Steve says because Eddie has more than passed the vibe check at this point.
Eddie crouches down as a new song starts up, and while Steve can't hear what he's telling her, he sees her smile, bright as day.
By the last song of the first opener, Anna is headbanging along with Eddie, off-beat in the say little kids always are but more than making up for it with effort.
Steve gives into the impulse to take a picture.
When the first opener finishes, Steve picks Anna back up and takes her ear defenders off.
"Woah," she says. "Can I keep them-"
"Nope," Steve says. "They stay on when the music is on. You heard it fine, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but you-"
"I have my earplugs in," Steve says, pointing at them.
"So do I," Eddie says, and when he moves his hair back, sure enough, there are black earplugs nestled in his ears.
"You don't seem like the kind of guy to wear earplugs," Steve says.
"You don't seem like the kind of guy to come of a metal show," Eddie counters.
Anna climbs out of Steve's arms and onto his back, where she loops her arms around his shoulders and just hangs, like she does sometimes when she gets bored.
Weirdo kid, Steve thinks affectionately.
"That's because I'm not," Steve says. "I was supposed to come with a friend, but he got sick."
"Yikes," Eddie says. "You coming tomorrow, too?"
"I am," Steve says. "Are you?"
Eddie raises his eyebrows, like he didn't expect Steve to ask that. "Yeah, we'll be here. Not in these seats, though."
The lights go back down before Steve can ask what he means by that. He reaches behind him, scoops Anna back down on the ground, and puts her ear defenders on by the time the second opener strikes a scary-sounding opening chord.
Anna doesn't look scared at all. From the moment the music starts, she looks up at Eddie, and when he starts headbanging, she does, too.
Yup. Steve has effectively created a monster.
He contemplates, if Dustin is fine by tomorrow, skipping out on the show and giving his ticket to Anna, but that means not seeing Eddie again.
He really wants to see Eddie again, even if he won’t have the same seats.
Whatever that means.
Steve decides not to focus on that. He decides instead to focus on the moment. He listens to the music. He lets Anna take his hand and dance with it. He bops his head along with hers, but not too hard because he can’t risk aggravating his whiplash.
He enjoys the show, even if it’s not his cup of tea. It’s easy to enjoy the show, with Eddie next to him. It’s easy to enjoy his wild hair and pretty jewelry and big eyes and contagious enthusiasm.
It’s easy to see the way Eddie looks at him.
It’s also very easy, after the venue clears and Anna falls asleep in the car on the way home, to forget to ask for his number.
Shit.
(Part 2 is alive!!)
4K notes · View notes
valeskafics · 29 days
Text
"I Love Star Wars" - Frat!Rafe Cameron x Nerd!Reader
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a/n: from an anon request for rafe with a nerdy reader hehe. i borrowed from some iconic movie insults, so kudos if you recognize them! 🩷
Summary: Rafe makes some startling realizations about himself and his likes when you put him in his place.
Word Count: 4,735
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, idk bullying maybe kinda sorta, rafe being gross, fingering, tiddy succin, degradation kink, mommy kink if you squint, choking, hair pulling, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint, reader is coded to have a big booty
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Rafe knows he’s in trouble the first time he meets you. It’s the day before his final report for his Communications class is due and he’s barely even started on it. He figures he’ll be able to get away with bullshitting some sort of speech, he just needs to hit the library and find one to emulate. So, he shows up, wearing his hockey sweatshirt, a pair of gym shorts, his SnapBack sitting backward on top of his head, walking into the campus library as if he owns the place. That’s when he sees you, the lone soul in this shitty, depressing place at this hour. He saunters over to you, trying to read your nametag, but realizes you don’t in fact have one. You look up at him with a polite smile, eyes shining behind your glasses.
“Can I help you find something?” Fuck, he thinks he’s already found it. After a moment, he nods, asking you if you can lead him to the Communications books. You nod, gesturing for him to follow you, “It’s kinda hard to find, just follow me.”
Your hoodie is fairly unassuming, but he can hardly tear his eyes away from how your ass fills out those jeans as you walk. God damn, he’s going to be thinking about this for weeks. You come to a stop, and he’s so immersed in checking you out that he almost plows right into you. You turn to him, pointing toward the next aisle over.
“It’s organized alphabetically by title, so you should be okay. The librarian’s left for the night, so it’s just me. I can’t special order anything, but I can check out your rentals.”
“It’s just you?” Rafe questions, resting his forearm against the shelf behind you, leaning in close as he whispers, cocking an eyebrow, “So what happens if I’m feeling a little… Naughty, Miss Librarian?”
You narrow your eyes, pursing your lips slightly as you reply, “We don’t have an adult books section. I’d suggest you go home and rub one out, frat boy.”
Rafe’s jaw drops as you walk away, though he continues to admire that ass as you disappear from sight. He sighs to himself before turning to the shelf, frowning as he tries to figure out what book is going to fucking help him finish this assignment. Unable to narrow it down, he grabs the three he thinks he needs and shuffles over to the counter, holding them out to you. 
You snatch them out of his hands before declaring, “You can only check out two books at a time. Pick one to put back.”
He eyes you up and down, a sly smile playing on his lips, “Is that a policy or your personal rule, Miss Librarian?”
“It’s school policy.”
“Well that’s no fun,” Rafe leans in, grinning at you, eyes sparkling with amusement, “You look like you could use a little more fun in your life, don’t you think?”
“How about I go throw myself in front of the campus bus? That would be more fun than this conversation,” you retort, tossing one book aside, scanning the other two before shoving them back in his hand, “Thanks. Don’t come again.”
Rafe is taken aback by your hostility for a fleeting moment, but he recovers quickly, questioning, “I think you’re just trying to act tough, but these bitchy little comments? They just tell me that you want me. You’re playing hard to get. I respect the hustle.”
“Delusions of grandeur are usually indicative of a deeper psychological problem.”
“You always this unfriendly?”
“I don’t know, are you always this naggy?” You counter, “Anyway, we’re closing.”
“Aw, I know what it is,” he nods sagely, the sight of which has you ready to smack him, “You’ve never been hit on by a hottie like me before. That’s what’s got you all worked up. Not used to the rich, preppy, sexy athletes.”
“Well, I’m not exactly your demographic’s type,” you scoff, gesturing to your glasses, “Now can you leave?”
“You’d be surprised. Dorky chicks like you turn me on too.”
“Interesting. However, I don’t have a thing for frat boys. Bye!”
Rafe is unceremoniously shoved out of the library, the door slammed in his face. He lets out a huff of annoyance. Did you just… Blow him off? What the actual fuck? No one gets to blow him off like that! This is ridiculous. And why does he feel so amped up after you were such a bitch to him? It was oddly… Exhilarating. He walks back to his room to finish his studying, his mind consumed with thoughts of the girl who insulted him at the library.
Though he doesn’t actually see you again until the following semester begins.
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It’s the first day of classes, and Rafe can hardly believe his luck. There you are, sitting up in the front row. You look just as good as he remembers. You’re wearing those same skinny jeans, your hair tied up, glasses framing your pretty face, and a Star Wars tee shirt. It’s weirdly hot to him in a way he can’t explain. He knows that you’ve written him off as some dumb jock frat boy, but all this time he’s had you on his mind. There’s an edge to you. Something he wants desperately. 
So, he comes and takes the empty seat right beside you. You do your best to ignore him, completely avoiding eye contact, typing away on your laptop. But from what Rafe can see? You’re just typing gibberish. 
So, he leans over slightly, keeping his voice low and smooth as he tries to make polite conversation, “Hey. So, we’re in this class together. What’s your major?” 
He doesn’t receive a response, only your withering glare. Rafe wants to guess that you’re a History or Psychology major, but he’s proven wrong at your clipped response.
“STEM. And let me guess, you’re…” You give him a condescending smile, “Communications.”
“Close,” Rafe grins, “Business Management. You always so judgmental?”
“You always so annoying?”
“Depends who I’m talking to,” Rafe replies, a definite hint of flirtation as he does, “Anyway, you’re pretty hot for a nerd, you know that? Those glasses are really doing it for me, shorty.”
The nickname makes you grimace, but you still answer in a biting tone, “Thanks. I’m really living my suburban teenage fantasy right now, having some alpha male douchebag call me a nerd while simultaneously hitting on me.”
That big dumb grin on his face fades slightly, an irritated edge to his voice as he replies, “You know what you look like with those glasses? You look like a nerd. Though you’re kinda cute when you’re not acting like a little brat.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot the great Rafe Cameron has blessed me with his attention. Let me offer a blood sacrifice in your honor.”
Rafe eyes you up and down as you roll your eyes and pull out your notebook. Why is he so fucking interested in you? He doesn’t understand it. Why are you all he can think about? Every time you insult him, he can’t help but want to prove himself to you even more.
“You know, that body though. It’s unbelievable.”
Your eye twitches in annoyance, “Excuse me?”
He leans in, intent on provoking you even further, “Yeah. Didn’t you hear me, babe? Those curves really got me going, shorty.”
“You’re a pig,” you reply dryly, “And what do you think, you’re Justin Bieber or something? No one says ‘shorty’ anymore, white boy.”
“Damn, calm down. Did I touch a nerve by calling you out on that ass? I mean, you can’t blame a man for noticing. Those jeans don’t lie and, baby girl, you’re thicc. I’m lovin’ it.”
“You’re disgusting. Calling you a pig is an insult to pigs.”
Rafe watches as you scowl, looking around for another seat. However, you don’t appear to find one, sitting back down dejectedly, burying your face in your hands.
“So, tell me, princess. Is all that junk in the trunk natural? Because it’s gotta be the Eighth Wonder of the World if it is.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, it’s phenomenal.”
It’s lucky that the lecture starts right then and you’re able to ignore Rafe and begin scribbling away at your notes. Judging by how tense your body is, he thinks he was about three comments away from giving you an aneurysm. You’re so focused on your coursework that you don’t even notice the way he stares at you, unfocused as his gaze wanders the expanse of your body. The way your glasses frame your eyes, bits of hair falling in your face… Everything about you excites him.
Rafe snaps out of his dreamy state when you raise your hand, answering a question the professor has asked. That’s when he learns your name, committing it to memory. And fuck, your voice? You sound so goddamn smart when you give your answer. And when you’re not busy insulting someone? It’s so… 
Pretty.
When class ends and you’ve shoved your belongings in your bag, Rafe calls out to you, resting a hand on your shoulder, not firmly enough to hold you in place, but enough to get your attention. You let out a groan of frustration, glancing at him as you question what the fuck he wants.
“Listen, I know I was being a dick earlier-”
“At least you’re self aware.”
“Look, just listen to me for a second! Maybe I came on a little strong at first-”
“A little?” You repeat, giving him an incredulous look, “You talked about my ass for like five minutes!”
“Well, I mean, there is a lot to talk about-”
His cock twitches in his jeans at the way you narrow your eyes, glaring up at him, “And this is your big apology?”
Rafe shrugs, leaning in, a dirty little smirk playing on his lips, “Listen, princess. I’m a bit of a jerk sometimes. You’re gonna have to get over it.”
“Why am I gonna have to ‘get over it’ when I can just avoid you?”
He continues following you as the two of you leave the lecture hall, easily keeping up with your brisk pace due to how stupidly long his legs are, “Yeah, I mean, you can. But you could also just accept that you’re hot and guys are gonna comment on it. You’re obviously not used to having a dude be as interested in you as I am. I can tell.”
“Do you not have anything better to do? Like some sorority girl to fuck or a kegger to attend?”
“Hey, I like a challenge.”
“So if I start being nice to you, you’ll leave me alone?”
Rafe arches a brow, “Uh, I mean-”
He doesn’t bother to hold back his laughter as you clasp your hands together, batting your eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner, your voice high-pitched and shrill, “Ooo, Rafey, you look sooooo hot today, like, oh my God, I can’t even.”
“Damn, you’re sarcastic. That’s really hot.”
You shake your head, dropping your skateboard on the ground, another surprise, “Look. Let’s get something straight. I’m not your ‘bae’. I’m not your ‘shawty’. I’m not even going to be your friend. So take a hint and get lost.”
He watches you skate away, your middle finger high in the air, the gesture no doubt aimed toward him.
Damn, you’re something.
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Upon asking around campus, Rafe learns a lot about you. You’re a physics and chemical engineering double major with a minor in English lit. You’re on the robotics team, you love Star Wars, and you collect old school Marvel comic books. He commits every single thing about you to memory, mind consumed by thoughts of you. That sassy mouth, the way you stand up to him without a second thought. He’s so used to being flocked by people like Topper and Kelce and Sophia who listen to whatever he says, never challenging him. Never calling him out on his shit. You’re so different.
He sees you in the quad the next day, passing out flyers for a position being open on the robotics team, wearing a Star Wars tee shirt. Great, a conversation starter. He approaches you, confident with a huge smile on his face.
“Oh God,” you mutter, a tension headache already incoming at his mere presence.
“I love Star Wars.”
“Really?” You drawl, “What was your favorite?”
“The one one with the, uh, little fuzzy guys. The teddy bears.”
“Ewoks.”
“Sure. Anyway, can I get one of those flyers?”
You scoff, shaking your head, “No. Absolutely the fuck not.”
“Aw, come on,” Rafe whines, giving you what he’s sure is his most adorable smile, “It can’t be that difficult to get a flyer, shorty.”
“You? Interested in the robotics team? I call bullshit. So no.”
“What, so I’m not good enough for your team? You’re being racist now, shorty.”
You give him an annoyed glare before blurting out, “You’re white! I literally cannot be racist to you!”
“Reverse racism.”
“We have a minimum GPA requirement of 3.2 and I’m pretty sure you’re under that,” you reply, giving a passing student a flyer, “What’s the SAE and hockey team requirement? 2.0? Yeah, no. Bye.”
“C’s get degrees, girl! I’m busy focusing on hockey and partying and my girls.” He can see how annoyed you’re getting and decides to ramp it up a notch, “So, my charms finally getting through to you? Finally gonna admit you’re into hot alpha athletes?”
“You’re so not an alpha. You’re a sigma. At best.”
Rafe’s jaw drops slightly at your response, “Wha- What do you mean at best?! And what the hell is a sigma?? You’re just making stuff up now!”
“Aren’t you the SAE president?” You snark, “Sigma Alpha Epsilon?”
Rafe blinks, surprised at how much you know about him, before mumbling, “Oh, so that’s what it stands for…”
You shake your head, sighing to yourself, “You know, you’re so clueless that it’s almost adorable.”
He stares after you as you walk away, admiring your ass in those jeans.
“Wait, you think I’m adorable?? Babe, I think we’re really getting somewhere!”
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Is changing up his morning jog schedule and route to match yours pathetic? Yes, yes it is. 
Does Rafe care? No, no he does not.
As he comes bounding up to you, looking almost like some sort of overgrown puppy, you give him an annoyed glare, “Rafe.”
“I have a question for you.” He pauses, “Will you go on a date with me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” He almost whines, “I’m hot, you’re hot. It’s a great match. You know I’m right.”
“Nice try, Casanova, but no thank you.”
The two of you come to a stop by the water fountain, and you can practically feel him undressing you with his eyes as you lean forward to fill your water bottle. Dammit, are you going to have to stop wearing leggings for your run? Jesus, this guy is obsessed with your ass.
“Why the hell not? What’s wrong with me?”
You glare at him, the anger in your eyes making his stomach twist in anticipation, his cock straining against the fabric of the basketball shorts he’s come out to jog in. He watches you inhale sharply through your nose before you begin to speak.
“I think… No. I am positive that you are the most unattractive man I have ever met in my entire life. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve demonstrated every loathsome characteristic of the male personality, and even discovered a few new ones. You’re physically repulsive, intellectually stunted, morally reprehensible, vulgar, insensitive, selfish, stupid.” Just as he thinks you’ve finished and is about to reply, you continue, “You have no taste, a lousy sense of humor, and you smell. You’re not even interesting enough to make me sick.”
Rafe is rendered silent for a long moment, staring at you with wide eyes before he finally replies, “Holy shit. I’d ask where all that came from, but it’s more fun trying to figure out for myself. I’m not gonna lie, this shit is turning me on, shorty.”
You look at him, the shock and abject horror on your face being worth a million dollars as you question, “You… I… You’re getting off on this?!”
“A little,” he answers honestly.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” You scowl, turning to jog in the other direction, “Jesus fucking Christ!”
“Wait, come back, shorty! I wanna hear more of the mean things you have to say about me! I’ve never been this hard in my life, wait up!”
“Oh my god, you’re disgusting!”
“I love it when you talk dirty, keep going, baby.”
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Rafe finally makes some sort of progress with you one night when he comes to the library to pick up a book for the assignment he’s working on in one of his classes. As usual, he’s about to make a beeline over to you, but he sees that you look more stressed out than usual, eyes watering slightly. He frowns, coming closer, wanting to do nothing more than wrap you in his arms and fix whatever it is that’s bothering you. To take you away somewhere, to treat you like a princess. He watches as the head librarian rails into you about something, your lower lip trembling slightly as you nod, mumbling your apologies.
“What’s happening?” He whispers, approaching you.
“Nothing,” you mumble, wiping at your eyes quickly, doing your best to ignore your boss’s screaming.
Rafe knows it’s not nothing. And so, he turns to the librarian, mouth set in a firm line.
He’s never been one to play knight in shining armor before. But for you? He’s ready to take on the world. You watch in astonishment as Rafe tells your boss that she’s making a mountain out of a molehill, that every time he’s come into the library, you’ve been nothing short of professional and helpful. That you’re extremely intelligent and she should be ashamed of herself for being such a cranky old hag. You cover your mouth, doing your level best not to burst into laughter as she offers a half-hearted apology and scurries away.
“Damn,” you comment, “You really gave it to her.”
Rafe shrugs, “She deserved it. I don’t like seeing pretty girls cry.” He pauses before smirking, “Well, unless it’s me doing it.”
You roll your eyes, watching as he walks away. At the last moment, just before he’s about to leave the library, you call out to him.
“Hey, Rafe?”
He turns back, “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He beams at you, scratching the back of his neck before blurting out, “Maybe if you really wanna thank me, you can let me take you out on that date? One date, no strings. If you don’t like me, you can leave anytime.”
You think for a moment before nodding, “Okay.”
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“When you said I could leave anytime, you didn’t mention I’d have to jump into the middle of the goddamn ocean!”
Rafe smirks as you climb onboard the Druthers, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, “Come on. I saw your Tinder profile. You said you love the ocean.”
“Yeah, from far away,” you reply snarkily, “Not in this boat! You know, statistically speaking, a whale could totally just whack us with its tail, we go flying, our bodies are never recovered-”
You’re cut off when Rafe leans in and squishes your cheeks together, a grin on his face as he teases you, “God, you’re a nerd.”
You roll your eyes, batting his hands away as the two of you walk over toward the bridge. You watch with slight interest as he unties the ropes and the two of you set sail. Rafe takes pride in showing you around the boat, and you have to admit, it’s kind of adorable how excited he is to be able to do this with you. The guy has even gotten a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon with some chocolate covered strawberries waiting for the two of you when you get a little bit further out to see. You watch him curiously over the rim of the flute you sip the expensive beverage from, and Rafe notices, his cheeks flushing slightly, though he claims it to be from a combination of the heat and the alcohol.
“You’re…” You trail off, “Not as horrendous as I thought you were. We’ve been sitting up here this whole time and you haven’t made one gross comment about my ass in this swimsuit.”
“Trust me, I may not have said anything, shorty, but I am looking-”
You burst into laughter, shaking your head, “I guess I gotta respect your honesty.”
“So,” Rafe questions, moving to sit closer to you, wrapping his arm around the backside of your seat, the ocean waves gently rocking the boat to and fro, the sun shining down on your skin, “What made you finally say yes?”
You look into those blue eyes, a smile playing on your lips. In truth, it was a lot of things. But you decide to tell him the main reason.
“What you did for me, with my boss? That was really cool of you. And you weren’t pushy about asking for a date after, so I figured I might as well give you a shot.” You pause before adding, “Don’t think it means I like you or anything, though.”
“Oh, no. We can’t have that. You might actually start being nice to me or something.”
You smirk, “Me? Nice to you? Not in a million years, puckhead.”
Rafe snorts out a laugh, leaning in closer to you, so close that if one of you moves even an inch, your lips will be touching, “Um, can I ask a question?”
“Do you mean ‘may’?”
He rolls his eyes, “Okay, Miss Librarian. May I kiss you?”
“Hm,” you pretend to think for a long moment, enjoying the desperation in his gaze, “Do you really deserve to kiss me?”
“I don’t know if anyone does,” Rafe murmurs, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, “But if anyone gets to, I want it to be me.”
There’s something so honest, so raw and vulnerable in his words, that you can’t resist. You pull him into a heated kiss, moving to straddle his lap. Rafe’s hands rest on the curve of your ass as he moans against your mouth, nipping softly at your lower lip, pleading for you to let him in. And, after teasing him a few seconds more, you do. Your arms wrap around him, your chest pressed flush against his, bodies warmed by the sun as you kiss passionately. Rafe’s hands slide under the fabric of your denim shorts, and he snickers to himself.
“Can’t believe you’re wearing a Darth Vader swimsuit.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter in annoyance, nipping at his earlobe, making him giggle to himself even louder, “You wanted a nerd, you got one, frat boy.”
“I definitely want a nerd,” he mumbles, tossing your shorts aside, hands squeezing at the flesh of your ass.
You moan into his mouth, smiling into the kiss as you toss his stupid SnapBack aside. Sure, you’ve had a few drunken kisses at some high school parties, a few failed hookups, but nothing like this. You push Rafe down, your hands resting on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, littering the exposed skin with kisses as you move further and further down to the waistband of his swim trunks. He watches with amazement as you mouth at his cock over the fabric, groaning as you tease him.
“You’re this hard already? And all we’ve done is kiss? Kinda pathetic, Rafe.”
“Fuck, I love it when you’re mean to me,” he moans, struggling to keep himself from bucking his hips against your face, “Love it when you call me out on my shit. Need you to keep me in line, ma. Gonna do that for me?”
“I’ll consider it.”
Rafe tugs at the straps of your swimsuit eagerly, eyes going wide when he sees your tits, lips immediately moving to wrap around one of your nipples. He moans against your soft flesh, his tongue caressing the smooth bud as you guide his hand toward the apex between your thighs. You tug at Rafe’s hair as he moves your swimsuit aside, burying two ring-clad fingers knuckle-deep inside your pussy. You let out a moan, the cool metal of his rings rubbing against your clit as you grind yourself down against him. Part of you thinks that Rafe might be getting off on getting you off, judging by the look on his face.
You smirk to yourself, squishing his cheeks together much as he did to you earlier, “Awww, is this getting you all excited, baby? Making me feel good?”
“Yeah,” he admits, groaning as he moves his fingers faster, watching you let out a shuddering gasp as he rubs up against that spongy spot deep inside you, “Fuck, ma, you’re so tight. Can’t wait to be inside you, oh my God…”
Your stomach tightens as you move your hips down against his fingers, his mouth moving to your other tit as he eagerly suckles at you. It feels so much better than your own fingers, than any stupid toy you’ve ever used, because when you get to the edge, he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, making you spill yourself all over his fingers. You watch with amusement as he pulls them out of you, eagerly licking the evidence of your arousal, moaning at your sweet taste. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more desired in your entire life than you do right now, with Rafe gazing up at you like you’re some sort of goddess. You move off of him, ridding yourself of your swimsuit, eagerly tugging at his trunks. Your eyes widen slightly at how long and girthy he is. Seeing the little smirk on his face, you immediately decide to humble him, grabbing him just hard enough to make him wince, but not enough to cause any real pain.
“Don’t get cocky.”
Rafe lets out a little whimper as you push him back onto the couch, nodding with a grin, “Yes, ma’am.”
He watches with amazement as you sink down onto him, your warm, wet cunt taking him in so fucking perfectly. Rafe has had sex before, sure, but nothing like this. He watches as you bounce on his cock, his hands squeezing at your ass, urging you on. You look fucking incredible. You give him a cheeky smile, one of your hands gently squeezing at his throat.
“You’re almost cute when you learn to shut the fuck up.”
Rafe laughs breathlessly, his eyes rolling back as you pull yourself up and sink back down onto him, your warmth enveloping him over and over, feeling so fucking tight around him. He feels his stomach tighten, your flesh so soft and supple in his palms, the noises the two of you make echoing throughout the stateroom aboard the Druthers.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” He manages to eke out as he bucks his hips up eagerly against yours, “I really like you, and uh, fuck, oh fuck, ma, that feels so good…”
“And what?” You taunt, slowing your movements, “Use your words.”
“I want you. I want you to keep calling me out. Putting me in my place,” he groans, “Want you to talk about all your nerdy shit with me. Wanna go to your robotics competitions. Want you to come to my hockey games wearing my jersey, be the one standing next to me at all my frat’s parties. Wanna kiss you when we graduated, oh fuck, babe, I’m cumming.”
“Then cum for me, baby,” you coo, whispering against his ear, “Be a good boy and fill me up.”
The both of you are sent reeling from how intense the sex was, minds buzzing with millions of things to say but no energy to say them.
You’re the one who breaks the silence, turning to give him a lazy grin, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend, you fucking dork. Wear your jersey and shit.”
Rafe snickers, pressing his lips to yours, “Yeah? Well, thanks, nerd.”
The two of you burst into giggles, pouring yourselves another glass of champagne, continuing your first date aboard the Druthers.
The first of many more dates to come.
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hee-pster · 1 month
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just enhypen/legal!line going crazy of yn wearing a white t-shirt without a bra,so they see her nipples very welll, (i just love everything with nipples licking😭,btw i love your post their soooo good🫶🏻)
sorry for the bad english 😔
thank you so much for this request and for liking my work anonie, this was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy love💜
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𝜗𝜚 heeseung would be so fucking turned on by it — he wouldn’t be able to stop staring at your chest, lick his lips as he gradually grows enormously bigger under his pants at the sight of your shadowing nipples, like god you’re such a tease for walking around like this before his eyes but please don’t stop, and please do it more. he would definitely try to come up with sly excuses to touch your boobs over your shirt because he’s undeniably thirsty for them, but because you’re a brat you wouldn’t just let him get what he wants — which by the way, would turn him on even more. he loves to be challenged but he’s too impatient to actually win one against you, especially when the topic is literally your tits, so he ends up trying to bribe you in exchange of allowance to touch your boobs, what can I say, they’re his weaknesses. 
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𝜗𝜚 jay, being the sweet gentleman that he is, would give his hardest to be respectful, and to not stare at you like a starving animal with his drool dribbling down to his chin. but he’s just a young man with thriving hormones and a very sensitive dick, which he seems to have no control of around you — especially when he can see the outline of your boobs underneath your white shirt that crystal clear. he’d try to distract himself from the way his cock throbs inside his boxers but fail, because damn he can’t fucking stop thinking about how pretty you would look on his lap as he suckles on your tits — ugh, he just knows that you’d let out the prettiest sounds ever. but making you feel uncomfortable by sexualizing you over something so minor is what he definitely wants to avoid, which is why instead of bothering you with his horny thoughts, he’d just excuse himself from the room, and head to jerk off to his nasty daydreams. 
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𝜗𝜚 with jake, everything works eye to eye — meaning if you walk around missing clothes before him, he’s gonna do the very same. so naturally, if your bra is per say out of the game, so will his boxers be. if the sight of your hardened nipples under your white shirt is not a problem, then neither should the bulge of his cock be inside his gray sweatpants after all, right? cause that would only be fair, he thinks, regardless of the size of his rapidly growing tent. at least this way he doesn’t feel bad about being borderline down bad for you, because he knows that you feel the exact same from the way you eye-fuck him shamelessly. which is why he lets things build up slowly, because he knows that your designated destination is your bedroom no matter how long the staring foreplay will take — you’re gonna fuck so hard either way, and that’s the only keypoint here.
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𝜗𝜚 according to sunghoon, you not wearing a bra underneath your very see-through white shirt can only mean one thing: you wanna get fucked, nay, you wanna get railed — especially if the said white shirt actually belongs to him, and sits on you like some sort of a mini dress. you could literally not ask for his cock more obviously, which is hot, because he loves it when you’re bold. that’s exactly why he lets you keep it on as he pulls you on his lap to ride his dick cause you made it rock hard — congratulations, when normally he prefers you to be stripped naked to your toes during sex. but still, there’s no guarantee that later on, he won’t end up ripping the material into shreds as he takes it off of you, since you know he can be a little beastly whenever his cock is buried in your cute pussy, I’m just saying.  
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charliemwrites · 3 months
Text
Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:
Part 1 here
Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.
“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.
“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”
He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.
He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.
“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”
Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.
“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”
He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).
“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.
He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.
“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”
You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”
He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.
“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”
“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”
He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.
“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”
“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.
You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.
Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.
Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.
That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.
Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).
There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.
And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.
He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.
Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.
All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.
(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.
“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.
You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”
“Cheers, luv.”)
There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.
Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.
You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.
“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”
“MacTavish,” Price snaps.
That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.
“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”
“Thought I told you?” Price says.
“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”
He blinks. “Scheduling app.”
You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”
You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.
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nathaslosthershit · 3 months
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Welcome interruptions (Dad!Lando Norris)
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Summary: While streaming, Lando gets interrupted by two very adorable and very welcome guests
With his wife being out of the house for the time being, and the twins down for a nap, Lando had decided to jump on a quick stream for the first time in a while. Being the father of 3 year old twins didn’t leave much time to stream, not that Lando complained much.
User 1: andddd he is back
User 2: father lando gracing us with his presence
User 3: about time sir
“Alright Chat thank you, I get it. I know I have been gone for a while” He flippantly replied.
He hadn’t intended to be on as long as he had. He enjoyed streaming very much but balancing work, family, and his Twitch sidegig wasn’t the easiest. Still, he hadn’t wanted to spend as long as he was doing on the stream. Admittedly, he had lost track of time while playing and chatting. It wasn’t until two guests graced him with their presence that he realized how long it had been.
Tiny footsteps took Lando out of his haze. Turning around, he was met with two disheveled toddlers still rubbing sleep from their eyes. 
“Hello loves” he cooed, “How was your nap?”
The twins both stayed silent as they tried, and failed, to get on their father’s lap. After some assistance from Lando, his daughter finally spoke up.
“Dada, blueberries please” she muttered.
“You both want them?” He asked. Both replied yes as they laid on his chest, facing the screen that had been showing the chat comments whirling by. His son pointed wordlessly, confused at what he was seeing.
His children were by no means a secret, the minute they were born he had all but shouted his newfound father status. But convincing his wife to bring them to the paddock was not an easy task. He knew the risks and why she was uneasy. He respected her wishes to wait, but the minute they got to join him she could see how much this truly meant to him. Since then, Formula 1 fans had become well acquainted with the Norris twins. 
But this was their Twitch debut, so understandably, the viewers were excited. 
“Those are all the people watching, they are saying hi to you both. Can you say hi to chat?” Lando asked. Immediately, his extroverted daughter yelled a greeting, while his son turned his body, hiding as best he could.
“You can certainly tell which one of them got all the social skills.” He joked.
User 4: give the children their blueberries mr.norris
User 5: she certainly is her father’s child. 
User 6: please, i don’t want baby fever
User 7: oh to grow up the child of Lando Norris
“Alright, I shouldn’t torture them anymore. I’m heading off to give these angels their snacks. I will stream… eventually.” The onslaught of angry comments made Lando giggle, he was purposely trying to piss them off. “Kidding everyone, my god. You know it isn’t easy being a father of two. No matter how sweet and adorable they are.” The babies in his lap laughed as he attacked their foreheads with kisses. 
“Goodbye everyone!” Shutting off the stream and then his computer, Lando expertly lifted both his kids up and carried them out.
“Geez you both are getting heavy, either you are growing up too fast or I am getting too weak.” Hearing the giggles he added, “What? You think your father is weak? Is that funny to you two?” He jested. Grabbing them their blueberries and sitting them down at the table, he took a moment to watch his two beautiful creations messily eat. 
After finishing their plates, he cleared them and his kids to the playroom.
Picking a book from the shelf, Lando sat on the couch as his toddlers joined him on his lap.
Kissing their heads as he opened the book, they both muttered a ‘love you Dada’ that made his heart absolutely melt.
Oh what a beautiful life. 
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jksprincess10 · 10 months
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Only angel || Virgin!reader x  Joel Miller
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gif by Mmasoncarr2244
Summary: After you got asked out by another man in Jackson, you tried to find a way to get rid of your virginity before your date. You didn’t want to seem like the inexperienced one. So you asked Joel Miller for help.
Thank you to @pr0ximamidnight​ for helping me make this fic better!
CW: innocent and shyt!reader, grumpy but soft joel, jealous!joel, big age gape (legal), petnames (sweetheart, angel), he talks you through it, fingering, oral sex (f), unprotected p in v, masturbation.
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“Did I forget patrol? Joel asked when he found you in front of his door. Of course, he would never miss patrol. He had a routine that he followed religiously.
“No! I…Can I come in? I need to ask you a favor.”
He could tell by the way you talked, by the shyness on your face and the shaking of your hands that you were nervous. He never saw you like that in the time you two worked together since he moved to Jackson. You talked a lot, and you never came across as someone nervous.
“… Okay.” His brows furrowed while he moved away from the door and let you come in.
You took a deep breath and stepped into Joel’s home. It was empty. Ellie was probably in her room.  You sat on the couch, while the older man looked at you, arms crossed over his soft flannel.
“Is everything okay?” He finally asked, awkwardly.
“Yes. It’s just… Nate asked me out on a date.”
“Listen, angel, this old man can’t help ya out with-“
“No, I’m not asking for advice.” You assured. “I just… I know…” You took a deep breath. “I know he will want to have sex-”
“And… what do I have to do with this?”
“Joel. Let me finish. Please.”
He nodded, seeing how flustered you got.
You took another deep breath. “I’ve never… And I was hoping… you’d help me. Learn.”
Joel’s hand came to his mouth, brows furrowed, like he didn’t understand. When he finally realized what you meant, his eyes got bigger, and you swore you could see redness spreading on his cheeks.
“I can’t… I’m like 30 years older than you, sweetheart. Could be your dad.” It felt wrong, but in a dark part of his head he was aroused by your request. He could easily imagine how pretty you’d look impaled on his cock.
“Listen… you’re the one who probably had more experience before… all this! I… I trust you. And I’m an adult. Please.”
His hand laid on his forehead as he recited a silent prayer in his head. If God was testing him, he had failed.
“Okay. Come back tonight, Ellie will be out.” He finally said.
“T-Thank you! ” You got up in a jump and disappeared before he could change his mind.
**
Why Joel? He was probably the most attractive man in Jackson. And on multiple occasions, he had protected you while you two were on patrol together. 
You stared at your reflection in the mirror. You had changed your mind a few times on what to wear but were probably overthinking it. You were wearing a cute top and jeans. It was too cold to wear a dress, and you wish you could’ve dressed sexier.
You knocked on Joel’s door at the agreed time. When he opened, you could still see the awkwardness on his face.
“Didn’t change your mind?” He asked.
“No.”
You followed him inside, fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt. Joel didn’t waste any second and climbed the creaking stairs to his bedroom, with you following behind. 
You sat on his bed and looked up at him.
“Why me? Really.” He asked as he sat beside you. “Don’t you want your first time to be all romantic and shit, angel?”
“I… I just want it to be done. I don’t really care for romance. Didn’t have the time for that, living in an apocalypse and all, you know?”
You could see the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Okay. I can respect that. We… can stop at any point if you change your mind, angel.”
You nodded with a smile.
“Can I kiss you, Joel?” You whispered, your face leaning towards his.
As an answer, his calloused hand cupped your cheek, bringing your face closer to his. His lips were softer than the rest of him, and he kissed you delicately, like how you’d pick a flower in a field. You wondered if Nate would kiss you like this too.
Slowly, you laid down on his mattress, his body hovering over yours. He had let go of your lips, and his eyes were looking down at you with some sort of hunger. Maybe, deep down, Joel had wanted this all along.
“I’m gonna undress you now, angel.”
Joel’s hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up until the fabric fell on the floor in silence. He see the way your breathing got more laborious, your ribcage moving up and down as he took in the view of your chest.
Self-conscious, you put your arms over your bra.
“Take off your shirt too.” You said, cheeks red. “It’s unfair.”
The older man let out a small laugh as he sat up to undo his buttons. You watched as the flannel and the t-shirt under fell to the ground, unveiling skin that told a story through scars. You bit your lip as you admired him. The only soft part of him was a bit of tummy that had grown over his stay at Jackson. You wanted to lay your head there while he stroked your hair. But you knew he was just… doing you a favor. This wasn’t about him. This was about you and Nate. 
“Do you wanna keep your bra?” He asked as you were not moving.
“Oh, no.” You lifted your upper body and unhooked your bra, letting it fall from your arms. You felt goosebumps raise the small hairs on your chest.
He finally dared and looked at you, the hunger in his eyes just growing deeper.
“You look good.” He finally said. “Really pretty, angel.” He said in a reassuring voice.
You smiled and relaxed a bit. You both took off your pants, leaving you in your underwear. You could see a growing bulge in Joel’s boxers, and you couldn’t help but feel relief at the clear sign of his arousal.
He leaned down your body, his lips grazing over your chin, your neck, the top of your breasts. You shivered under the light touch of his breath on your body.
“I’m gonna make you feel good, okay? Gotta get you wet enough before anything happens.”
Joel’s words already made you wet, you couldn’t imagine how he could get you even wetter.
He hooked his thumbs in your panties and took them off as he kept tracing kisses along your body. He stopped at your hip bone, where he left a longer kiss.
“Can you show me how you masturbate?” He asked, backing away so he could look at your whole figure. “So I can do it right for ya, angel.”
“Y-Yes I can.”
You spread your legs more to give him a better view. He licked his bottom lip as he saw your perfect, untouched pussy. Two fingers dipped between your folds, finding your clitoris, that you rubbed slowly. Embarrassed, you closed your eyes, and let out a soft moan.
His fingers eagerly replaced yours, using the same motions. You reopened your eyes to look at Joel’s concentrated face. Having his fingers on you was such a different feeling. It was addicting, having someone else’s hand on you.
“S’that feel good, angel?”
You responded with a moan, which made Joel grow more confident. His rhythm was steady, and he kept going through your orgasm, even though your legs were closing under the intensity. When you got out of your sweet haze, you looked up to see Joel smiling.
“I’ll have to stretch ya out a bit. Tell me if it hurts.”
You nodded obediently and watched as one of his thick fingers found your entry.  You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.
“Your fingers are so big.” You said, cheeks heating up.
“Not only my fingers, angel.”
The older man took his time with you, waiting for the tension to leave your body before adding another finger. He stretched your walls slowly, and you became used to the intrusion. You even started to enjoy it when he curled his fingers, finding a spot you couldn’t reach yourself.
Your hands found the elastic of Joel’s underwear, pulling it down, to show how eager you were about having sex with him.
“D’you wanna do this, angel?” He said as he retrieved his fingers, and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. Feeling this emptiness again was weird.
“Yes. Please.”
He discarded his underwear completely, and finally, you looked down at the object of your desire. It was thick, and a little scary. But you tried not to panic, which Joel totally saw. One of his hands stroked his already hard member, while his other one caressed your cheek to soothe you. You melted into his touch, feeling your body relax again.
With his hand, he guided his tip between your walls. You immediately felt him. It was invasive, intimate.  But all you could do was breathe and hold on to Joel’s broad shoulders. Would Nate be this big? 
He invaded this new territory inch by inch, until he was completely filling you up.
“S’this okay?”
“Y-Yes. You can move.”
The older man thrusted his hips slowly at first, letting you get used to this new type of sensual gratification. It did burn a little, but the pleasure rapidly overtook the pain. Your greedy moans died against his warm lips.
“F-Fuck. Never had a pussy this fucking tight, angel.”
Your fingers traveled from his shoulders to his neck, to his curly salt and pepper hair. You pulled on his curls, whining in response. Your hips curled against his, asking for a faster pace. You felt good, but you wanted Joel to get off too.
“Faster Joel. Please. Want you to feel good.” You said between harsh breaths. This wasn’t about you anymore, was it?
The older man obliged, his hips snapping against yours, as you tried to follow at a clumsy pace.
“M’not gonna last, angel… Fuck.”
Joel pulled out, frustrated, and you watched as he fucked his fist until he shot his load, partly on his hand and on the bedding under you two. You’d keep this vision on a loop in your head, like your favorite film to watch.
**
He had disappeared in the bathroom to clean his hands. It had been such a special moment for him that he had forgotten why he was doing it in the first place.
So you could fuck another man without being so scared.
Joel groaned in frustration, his hands holding tightly on the porcelain of the bathroom sink as he looked at his pathetic expression in the mirror.
The man had an idea. He could be selfish too. Could ask you a favor.
He walked towards you with a smug grin on his face. He lowered his body on the bed, arms grabbing your legs that were still opened and trembling, and plunged his face between your thighs, kissing the top of your pubic bone. You looked down at him with wide eyes and warm cheeks.
“Don’t go on your date, angel…” He whispered as he licked slowly at your exposed clit. Your back arched as you moaned at the new sensation.
“W-Wait… Why?”
Dark eyes filled with lust looked up at you.
“Because you’ll never find better than this.”
**
“So, are we still on for Friday night?” Asked Nate, an arm wrapping around your shoulders.
You pushed him away and shot a glance to Joel, siting at the bar, who smiled at you.
“We’re not. Sorry.”
“Any other day, then?” He insisted as he frowned.
“Nope. Sorry.”
You ignored him as you approached Joel and stole a kiss from the man. He had ruined any other dick for you.
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futureplayboibunnie · 8 months
Text
Aphrodesiacs Pt. 4
Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader
You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?
mmmmmm heated.
the way you guys are eating this up makes me so damn giggly. love u fr. i’m feeding u crumb by crumb.
BROOO NSFW 18+ ykykyk
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A few days had passed, still actively avoiding each other, still actively desperate for each other.
Your lips were bleeding raw. It was a nervous habit now, chewing and knawing in your lips to conceal the broken moan escaping from your throat. It was like second nature, you were actually wondering if Miguel could actually see through your eyes.
Miguel was in his office, late again as usual, and he made sure that Lyla placed you as far away from him at HQ as possible, so you ended up in the shitty lab that you hated. He contemplated not letting you at HQ at all at night when he was here. But you actually wanted to see this suppressant through, you couldn’t give up. You had to at least try, no matter how hard Miguel pushed his distinctive and contrasting ideology onto you. You had to be sure, even if it was all for nothing.
You ran a diagnostic and everything seemed…fine. It would be smarter to wait but you had to try it out, not even bothering to drink it yourself first, you wanted to give it to Miguel so you could see that smug, God-like look from his face fade into normalcy: not being whipped over each other. As you closed the lights in the lab in a hurry, Lyla glitched in front of you as you headed out. You sighed as she crossed her arms and tapped her foot, a strange look forming on her face.
“Where ya going?” She said surprisingly chipper but you know she had an ultrerior motive. You waved a hand into the air she was in but she glitched to the side of you as you walked completely determined.
“Nowhere…” You mumbled, a frown settling on your lips. She didn’t believe it and she glitched in front of you again.
“He said doesn’t want to see you.” She shut her eyes and rattled your nerves with that sing song voice. Oh he doesn’t want to see you? Well, that’s funny. You would bet all your possessions to the fact that he does definitely need to see you, he just can’t because of some misbegotten respect out of his own moral code. You scowled.
“I don’t care. I have to show him something.” You gritted out hestitantly as you raised the vial up.
“Sorryyyy, no can do.” She smiled warmly and then before you can even blink, a red glitchy quilt of a cage Miguel would use for anomolies covered you. You blinked rapidly, filled with nothing but rage at the holographic AI.
Why the hell was everyone trying control you? Miguel. Lyla. Who next, Jess? This was between you and Miguel only, you didn’t care if Lyla was practically an extension of him, all you wanted was for all of this to go away. Even if you moved across the globe from him and met the hottest guy with the biggest dick, you still wouldn’t be able to unsheath yourself from the biggest problem: Miguel. As your palms hit the glitchy forcefield, you grunted hard. A thought flashed through you: what would this be like if you stopped being Spiderwoman? You shook your head and elbowed the shield.
“Lyla. I swear to God, if you don’t let me out-“ Your teeth were threatening to shatter as you glared at the faux pout that Lyla had.
“Sorryyy. Boss’s orders. Gotta go, Margo needs me!” She giggled before disappearing into thin air.
“What the hell? Are you just going to leave me here?” You yelled at nothing but a blank space. No other spiders were here, how the fuck were you supposed to do until morning? Thank God, the lights were still dimly lit so you wouldn’t be trapped in darkness…and Miguel was still here.
You felt it. In your bones you felt it.
No, no, no.
An unbidden image if him fucking you over his desk from behind as he pulled your hair seared into your mind. You felt it, you felt the thought react to all corners of your body. It would be so hard, so rough, so intense….He would cum all over your back and then plug his cock back in you. God, he would-
Please, not now. Please, why now?
-
Miguel wasn’t making any actual, practical effort to find a solution for any of this. His whole schtick was avoidance, he had done it to many women in his life, he could do it with you. Enough of being this weak, pathetic man, he could keep all of this in check if he just focus and didn’t let his mind wander or drift. He could do it. Yes, he knew he could.
Even though he was trying to not think about these primitive urges towards you, he couldn’t help a ribbon of curiosity flow through him about you. Why you? Yes it was the spider that was the root cause of this, but you….He wanted to know more. Miguel was an insatiable man with a trust that he beats down reguarly. He doesn’t trust. Ever. Even in his society, he knew that every single society and every single person in those societies had an agenda. Including him. His agenda right now was not fucking you.
He glared at his orange screens, watching clips of you fighting, clips of you walking around HQ. As much as he thought it was just “normal” curiosity with no lustridden intent, he couldn’t help but gawk at you like a fool. What was it about you that made you so damn attractive? It couldn’t have just been the spider that made him see that. He wanted to know more about you, your friends, your life….
In a fit of impulse, he wanted to hack remotely into your phone. It wasn’t even a second thought. As he had to remind himself…”just curious.” He then toggled his morals back on, this was such an invasion of privacy. It’s just so awful of him to do this, but his impulses were deemed more important right now.
He sighed loudly and screwed his eyes shut. Fine, he would destroy any pathway he had to get to your phone after this. He would never do it again.
It took about 20 minutes to do it, but he finally got in. He winced at how he was acting but as soon as his orange screens mirrored your phone, he pushed the feeling aside with a grunt and raised his fingers to start scrolling through your phone remotely using the screens. He went on your texts and there were multiple guys lined up just begging to fuck you. Your hookups were desperate for you and they wanted more. The texts you sent were very blunt and he couldn’t stop his brow from furrowing as his eyes skimmed.
- Come fuck. Left the door open
- On the way.
it should be Miguel that kicks the door in to see you, his face contorted into a snarl just imagining someone else doing it. He knew he shouldn’t but he kept scrolling.
- Need to ask you something.
- What about.
- Are you fucking a guy called Miguel or something
- What? No.
Miguel’s eyes widened as he read the message. What? He was stunned and tinged with a heated anger. You were talking about this to other people? No one could know, that was the first thing you were both told.
- Then why’d you whimper his name when we fucked.
You didn’t answer that text. Miguel’s mouth unhinged open as he saw those little words written out in front of him. Wait…you fucked other guys and…pretended it was him? Like Miguel was doing to all his women? Jesus Christ, this really wasn’t manageable. You moaned his fucking name when another guy had his dick in you. He felt so fucking smug and triumphant, a smirk lifted up his face. Oh the thing’s he’d do to you in order to make you whimper his name. Your other men must be racking their brains and going crazy trying to found out who he is.
You had a few friends you shot messages too but all there were now recently were hookups. Miguel frowned. He went to one chat and his eyes started gleaming red. He scrolled and found a picture of you. Posing for the camera for this random guy. Naked. Miguel swore he felt the vein on his temple thrum behind his skin, his dick hardened so fast that he was sure he’d be the most pathetic man on Earth, but how could he not? You looked so…delicious.
You were sat down on the edge of your bed, phone angled to the side so that your chin rested on your shoulder, the look on your face made him groan. You pouted at the camera and tensed your brows, lips glossed and wet, eyes gleaming with desperation and arousal. Your legs were spread wide apart and he could see very clearly how wet you were, your tits sat so prettily he just had to close his eyes and grunt. “Oh my fucking God��.”
Your body was better than he could ever fucking imagine, your thighs especially. He couldn’t wait to eat you out. He wanted to frame this picture and put it on his desk so he could fuck his fist while he worked, maybe he’d get you to suck his dick under the table and-
No. Por favor. Control yourself. This means nothing.
He was lying. This meant everything.
He was pulled by his mindless gawk unkindly as an alert popped up on his screen, it was the security camera picking up on something.
You.
“Lyla! I swear to God someone let me out! I can’t be here all night. Miguel?” You screamed, he looked at the live footage and he sighed thickly. His face was hard, his eyes were mean and bore a visciois crimson hue. Seeing you like that, posing for another man made him jealous beyond pure reason. He would put a bullet between his eyes and fuck your face after he did it.
Miguel shook his head hoping to fly away this tangible and unreasonable jealousy. He was doing the exact same thing, he fucked other women like it was a new hobby and in some ways it quite had to be. But they really didn’t mean anything. They weren’t you. It felt like nothing too. Though, he didn’t know if your hookups meant nothing to you. Maybe you were in love with one of them, that’s why you were so desperate for a suppressant so you could truly love someone else. Miguel’s face went blank and then contorted back to pissed again. He was the one that told you to stay away from him….
He punched the console that helped him hack your phone and then threw it across the room in a fit of anger. He stood still for a minute and raked a hand to regain his composure. He took a few deep breaths to find balance again and then walked out of his office and to where you were so he could make you go home and stay there.
Miguel clenched his fists in order to avoid punching any more of the infrastructure and he felt his knuckles turn a piercing white. He found you in the distance in the red forcefield, looking unhappy as ever and all he could envision was you naked under the suit. He groaned as he approached you, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The look you gave him was deadly. You were so pissed. This wasn’t normal anger, it was animalistic and wild. You were sure you were turning more and more red the longer you stood. Viscious wasn’t the first thing you were about to be right now.
“Let me out of this goddamn cage right now Miguel.” You quietly seethed, eyes piercing and frown growing. He had never seen you this angry before, it was alarming yet refreshing. He mirrored your exact same look as he took the forcefield down, your body langue nor your face seemed thankful.
His eyes flicked at the vials and his face grew even more indifferent, he stepped forward and snatched the vials from your hand and crushed them with his palm as you watched in disbelief. Your mouth opened in a gasp and then you fell even more furious than before. You grabbed onto his collar and leaned in, faces still bearing the same scowl, up real close.
Instead his free hand pulled your hair back and he whispered in your ear. “Don’t send naked pictures of yourself to anyone else from now on, we clear?” He spat out coldly, venom boiling and seeping into his blood as he uttered the words.
You attempted to hide the flash of surprise on your face through the anger but what was impossible to conceal was your arousal. How the hell did he know? What the fuck was he doing? It’ll be a snowy day in hell before you ever forgive him for breaking the vials. You gave him a poisonous look before you leaned in to his ear, his scent already messing with your brainwaves.
“Next time I see you…I’ll kill you myself”
He let go of you and then turned his back on you, forming a portal for you and for himself, glancing at each other as you walked through it and disappearing into the night.
-
i’m making it painful. i’m making u wait for it ahahahaha
-
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steddiealltheway · 6 months
Text
(Happy happy birthday Noelle (@frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe) thank you for all your amazing fun facts which are the source for this little ficlet. I hope you enjoy <3)
For some reason, The Party had decided to rent Friday the 13th for their upcoming movie night at Steve's house. With all the shit they've been through, Steve thinks that maybe it's a strange choice, but he knows better than to question the kids.
"What a nice choice," Robin says sarcastically as she looks over Steve's shoulder at the tape. She hasn't quite grasped how defensive the teens can get, but they seem to respect her more than they respect Steve. Figures.
"Isn't it?" Dustin snarks back as he grabs the tape from the counter.
Max rolls her eyes and adds, "I said the same thing."
"Yeah, because you want to watch some shit like Cinderella," Mike whines.
"Does it ever hurt your tiny, sexist brain to think of those weak insults?" Max asks with her eyebrows raised.
Lucas tries to hide a laugh as Mike glares at him.
"Alright, alright, this is the Family Video. Take it outside if you guys are going to bicker," Steve says with a sigh as he moves to restack some tapes Dustin had nudged just to be annoying.
"You and Robin bicker all the time," Dustin says defensively.
Steve gives him a look. "Do you want to lose Harrington house privileges?"
Dustin sighs, looking like he really wants to argue before he turns around to the group and announces defeatedly, "Alright, let's get snacks before tonight."
As they're filing out the door, Dustin runs back to the counter and adds, "I almost forgot. Is it fine if Eddie comes?"
Steve shrugs, trying to look unphased by the question. "Sure," he says, voice cracking a bit.
Dustin instantly lights up. "Great! I already invited him, so that would've been awkward. See you later!"
Robin comes up to him and lightly shoves his shoulder. "Sure," she mocks him. "You're so smooth."
"Shut up," Steve says with a sigh. God, Robin will never let him live down what he thought to be his deathbed confession of his crush on Eddie. In reality, he was just put on so many painkillers in the hospital that he had gotten confused when he woke up in a hospital room.
And yeah, maybe the crush still hasn't gone away and Robin definitely knows, but he refuses to acknowledge it.
"You're going to be at the movie night, right?" Steve asks.
Robin groans. "I've already told you, I have my parent's anniversary dinner tonight."
"So, you'll be at my house tonight," Steve jokes.
"I wish."
Steve nudges her shoulder. He's already seen the obnoxious pictures of Robin and her parents from every year of their wedding anniversaries lining the walls of one particular hallway. It's endearing really, but Robin hates it.
"You better call me later if anything new develops between you and Eddie," Robin whispers although there's no one in the room.
Steve just nods, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks as he still refuses to verbally acknowledge the ridiculous crush that maybe fills his stomach with butterflies and all those obnoxious things.
He sighs and turns to Robin. "How am I going to survive tonight without you?"
"The world may never know," she says dramatically.
And really, the world may never know. At least, that's how Steve feels.
-:-:-:-:-:-
Okay, maybe Steve is a little bit of a mess.
Sure, Eddie has shown up, and Steve has been playing it cool, but it's like he can't take his eyes off him. He's made so much eye contact, he's sure that he's creeping Eddie out a bit or giving away his huge crush.
But he’s Steve Harrington. Like Steve “The Hair” Harrington. Inventor of the Harrington charm. All that stuff. And… Eddie has absolutely melted him into a puddle of goo. Christ.
By the time the movie starts, Steve’s head is practically buzzing with all his thoughts of Eddie is sitting next to me. What do I do? The kids are here, so I can’t make a move. But I don’t even know if he likes me.
Then, Max’s question breaks through the thoughts as she asks, “When is the next Friday the 13th this year?”
“Well, fun fact, any month that starts on a Sunday will have a Friday the 13th,” Eddie says with a proud grin.
Steve ignores the kids’ responses asking when that month is and the subsequent response from Eddie saying he doesn’t know, but he just knows the fact.
But for some reason, the fact is absolutely blowing Steve’s mind.
And yes, maybe it’s because it came from Eddie, but truly, when Steve associates fact with something, it is never fun. But this truly is a… fun fact.
He must have a look on his face because Eddie eyes him and asks, “What?”
Steve just shrugs and says, “I just… really thought the fact was… fun.” Jesus, did his Harrington charm just evaporate or something?
But he thinks the honesty of it works for Eddie who smiles softly at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, how did you know that?”
Eddie swings an arm casually over the back of the couch and leans in. “I’m full of fun facts, Harrington.” He gives him a winks before leaning back.
Steve leans into his space, trying to close some of the distance between them. “Tell me another one.”
Eddie laughs, “I’m going to max out my fun fact limit to one a day.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
Eddie tilts his head toward him. “It’s fair if it gives me an excuse to talk to you every day.”
Okay, yeah. That was blatant flirting. Which Steve is about to match, until the kids decide now is the best time to interrupt and yell at them to be quiet as the movie starts.
As the movie goes on, Eddie and Steve drift closer together while trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible in front of the kids. They haven’t talked about it, of course, but Steve’s pretty sure neither of them want to scar the kids. Or maybe, Steve just doesn’t want the kids to very accurately point out his feelings for Eddie and force him to deal with them.
Unfortunately, this also means that Steve doesn’t get a moment alone with Eddie to further flirt with him or try to push him for another fact. But maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Especially since Eddie gave him an excuse to talk to him tomorrow.
-:-:-:-:-:-
“What’s another fun fact?” Steve asks as soon as he hears Eddie on the other line.
“Christ, I just woke up. Give my brain a few seconds,” Eddie groans into the phone, voice rough with sleep.
Steve smiles. “Good morning by the way,” he says sweetly.
“Good morning,” Eddie replies back, sounding a bit less grumpy. There’s a bit of shuffling on his side of the phone before he says, “It’s illegal to feed pigeons on the streets of San Francisco.”
Steve’s jaw drops. “There’s no way!”
“Go ahead and feed a pigeon there then,” Eddie says with a laugh.
“Maybe I will. If you come with me and promise to bail me out.”
Eddie hums on the other line. “I don’t know. I think it would be fun to spend a night in a jail cell with you. Maybe I’ll join you in your crime.”
“Scratch that, I’m bailing you out.”
“That’s sounds about right, Bonnie.”
“Bonnie?” Steve questions, feeling like he’s missed something.
Eddie gasps on the other line. “Like Bonnie and Clyde!”
Steve doesn’t respond, waiting for Eddie to fill him in.
“Okay, this doesn’t count as a fun fact because this is just a story of one of the greatest crime couples to ever exist,” Eddie says excitedly, rambling on about the two.
Steve sits back, cheeks hurting from smiling a little too hard as he listens to Eddie and tries not to linger too much on the fact he compared the two of them to a real life couple.
-:-:-:-:-:-
The phone calls continue every day, but the fun facts really are just a starting point to a long drawn out conversation about whatever’s on their mind.
Robin has pretended to get tired whenever Steve calls her right after Eddie has to hang up or spends hours talking about Eddie during their shift at the Family Video. But he knows she’s secretly just as enthralled about the fun facts as he is.
“Did you know that the Statue of Liberty wears a size eight hundred seventy nine shoe?” Steve asks Robin, still in disbelief over the fact.
“Sounds like you’re talking about me,” Eddie says, somehow coming into the store without Steve noticing.
Steve’s heart beats a little harder as he turns to him. “All good things of course,” Steve says with a wink.
“I was scared you were passing off my facts to Buckley as if they were your own for a second there,” Eddie says, leaning across the the counter.
“And what if I was?” Steve challenges, leaning on the counter.
“Then, I would have to revoke my daily fun fact.”
Steve’s jaw drops. “You’d never.”
Eddie shrugs. “Maybe you’ll just have to see.”
Steve just laughs and shoves his shoulder lightly. “What are you doing here though? Coming to deliver my fun fact in person?”
Eddie blushes and looks down. “No, I was actually just… wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight.”
“Sounds good,” Steve says automatically, not even stopping to think if he has any other plans.
“I’ll see you after your shift then?” Eddie asks, tilting his head a bit.
“I’ll see you then,” Steve confirms with a smile.
Eddie nods and turns to leave.
“Oh, wait!” Steve calls out.
Eddie turns around.
“You haven’t told me your fun fact for today.”
Eddie smiles. “You’ll just have to wait until tonight. After all, it’s a pretty good excuse to make sure you come over.”
Steve scoffs, “As if that’s the only reason.”
Eddie just pulls his hair in front of his face as his smile gets a little wider. “See you soon.”
“Bye,” Steve says, waggling his fingers at him.
“Holy shit,” Robin says, startling Steve. “I thought you said your crush was hopeless.”
Steve just shrugs. “It’s Eddie, he flirts with everyone.”
“Not like that.”
Steve pauses and thinks back on their conversation and all the flirtatious banter leading up to this moment. Maybe she’s right, but also he remembers… “Did you know that bubble wrap was invented by accident?”
Robin runs a hand over her face and says, “You two are going to be the death of me, I can already tell.”
Steve just smiles and thinks maybe they will be.
-:-:-:-:-:-
A few hours later, he shows up at Eddie’s, trying not to overthink things too much.
They were just hanging out. Just… two people… hanging out… alone… who flirt all the time…. And one definitely has a major crush on the other.
Eddie opens the door to the trailer immediately after Steve knocks only a single time. “I heard your car pull up,” he explains as soon as the door is open.
“Been lingering at the door for long?” Steve teases.
“Hours,” Eddie replies dramatically. But there’s a hint of nervous energy that Steve can’t help but pick up on. “Come on in.”
Steve steps inside and is hit with the smell of spaghetti and breadsticks. “Did you make dinner?”
“Nah, I picked it up from Enzo’s,” Eddie says with a smile before closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch where two plates are laid out. “I thought we could… watch a movie while we ate or… something.”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Steve replies with a smile, noticing the way his response relieves some of the nervous energy that is consuming Eddie.
“Perfect, right this way madam,” he jokes as he leads Steve to the couch with his hand resting on the dip of his lower back.
Steve sits down and can’t help but ask, “So, what fun fact did you make me wait for?”
Eddie freezes and curses, “Shit, you were supposed to ask that after all of this.”
Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?” He asks nervously.
Eddie fidgets with his rings and mumbles, “Okay, you can do it.” Then, he turns back to Steve and says, “Fun fact… I’ve been dying to ask you out for a while now, and… I was hoping that this could be a date? And further fun fact, I will absolutely shut up forever if I read things wrong, and I’m so sorry if I did. Oh shit. Did I? Because really, I thought-”
“Eddie,” Steve interrupts him quickly, placing a hand over his. “I think it’s finally time that I share a fun fact with you.”
Eddie nods, eyes wide and scared.
“Fun fact,” Steve says and takes a deep breath, “I’m really upset that you beat me to asking you out because I’m a damn chicken. And fun fact, I’ve liked you since I saw you interacting with Dustin for the first time. And you can confirm the fact with Robin who I told while I thought I was on my deathbed.”
Eddie’s expression slowly morphs from fear to relief to happiness. “And that’s really all a fact?”
“Yes. Fun ones I hope.”
“Very very fun,” Eddie says with a laugh. He worries his bottom lip before saying, “Fun fact, I really want to kiss you.”
“Fun fact,” Steve echoes cheesily. “I would love to kiss you.”
And he does exactly that.
(Later on, Steve calls Robin from Eddie’s house and yells, “Fun fact, I just kissed Eddie!” Into the phone so loudly that Robin complains that his “fun fact” is giving her ear damage. But she also lets him know that she’s happy for him, as long as he doesn’t keeps phrasing everything as a fun fact.
Only, Steve can’t help it, when everything involving Eddie becomes the best facts he knows.)
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seattlesellie · 10 months
Text
don’t cross the line
pairing: ellie williams x reader
warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol
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Parties in Jackson fucking suck.
It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.
“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”
Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.
You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.
“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.
“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”
Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.
Ellie.
You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.
So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-
“Hey”
You'd recognize that voice anywhere.
A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.
“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”
She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”
Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.
“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.
Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.
Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.
“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.
“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.
One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.
“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.
You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.
“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.
“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”
Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.
You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.
“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.
It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?
“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.
“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?
“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?
“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.
“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.
Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.
“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.
Ellie scoffed.
“Yeah”
You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.
Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.
“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”
“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.
“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.
“Let me walk you” she blurted.
What?
“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.
She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?
“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.
“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.
“No” she exclaimed.
“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”
“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?
“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”
“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.
Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.
She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.
Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.
“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?
“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.
“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.
Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.
“You are”
Step
“So fucking annoying”
This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.
The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.
You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.
You turned around to face her.
Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.
You took a deep breath. She looked cold.
“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.
“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.
“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.
“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.
“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.
“Come inside”
"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.
The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.
You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.
Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.
"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.
“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.
“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.
"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”
Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.
“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.
“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.
“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.
“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.
She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.
“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.
“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.
“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.
Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.
“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.
“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.
“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.
Oh, did that sentence burn through you.
“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.
“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.
You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.
“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.
“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.
Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.
That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.
“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?
You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.
She took a deep breath.
“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”
The room fell quiet.
“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.
“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.
“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.
“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.
“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.
“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.
“Please” you begged.
That’s all it took.
Almost.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.
“Please” you begged.
Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.
“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.
Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.
Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.
“You dont know…” she whispered.
You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.
“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.
Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.
Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.
She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.
“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.
She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.
“Shit” she huffed.
And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.
Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.
Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.
The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.
your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.
It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.
If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.
Her body gave up on her, too.
She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.
“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.
You wiped your tears.
“I can’t” you whispered.
“Please” she begged.
You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.
“I think about you all the time” you blurted.
She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.
“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.
What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.
You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.
Ellie swallowed deeply.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.
“I need you” you whimpered.
She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.
“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.
“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.
Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.
She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.
You cupped your breast.
Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.
“Holy shit” she wheezed.
“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.
Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.
The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.
Then, you took your shirt off.
And Cat was gone.
Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.
The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.
You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.
The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.
“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.
You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.
Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”
She didn’t need to pretend now.
“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.
You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.
“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.
“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.
“Do it” she commanded.
“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.
The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.
You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.
“Feels so good” you whined.
“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.
“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.
Ellie almost went cross eyed.
“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.
“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.
“Show me how bad - shit”
You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.
You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.
“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.
In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?
“Spread” She commanded.
You looked at her stupidity.
“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.
You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.
“Fucking shit” she grunted.
Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.
“Wider” She commanded.
You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.
“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.
“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.
“Show me that fucking pussy”
You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.
“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.
“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.
“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.
“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.
“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.
With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.
Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.
Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.
You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.
Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.
She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.
You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.
“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.
“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.
You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.
It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.
“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.
Her fucking ex best friend.
“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.
“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”
“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.
The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.
“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.
“Please fuck me, please fuck me”
“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.
“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.
“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”
Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.
When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.
This wasn’t just wrong.
This was vile.
She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.
When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;
“I’m so sorry”
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greatooglymooglyyy · 1 month
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Driver's License (Matt Sturniolo)
request:
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a/n: anon i love you so much, both of your ideas were so good. i hope you love this. i cut off the second part to gatekeep it till it comes out 💕 also ik in the song, it is the boys fault but i've done a few of those so I wanted this one to be on the reader.
contains: angst, fluff, breakup to makeup, abandonment issues, happy ending, kissing, cussing, 1.3k words
Three Months Ago:
“Okay, whoa. Don’t hit the break that hard. Ease on to it.” Matt says quickly, leaning forward a bit. I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “I barely pressed it, Matt.” I continue circling the parking lot slowly since he refuses to let me go over 5 miles per hour.
When a car enters the parking lot near me, I tense up but Matt jumps in. “You got it. You’re fine. They’re just gonna pass you.” He says, calmly, his hand resting near the steering wheel, just in case he needs to grab it. The car passes me and I relax, smiling over at Matt. “See.” He says, giving me a small smile back but then gesturing back out the window. “Look at the road, babe. Not me.” I snap my eyes away and focus back in.
“Pull into this one right here.” He gestures at a spot a couple of feet away and I turn into it, barely in the lines, and put the car in park. I wince and glance over at him, expecting him to talk shit, but he just smiles. “Not bad, baby. You wanna try to get on the street?” My eyes widen and he laughs and takes off his seatbelt.
“It’s okay. Next time.” He leans over and presses two kisses to my lips before opening his door so we can trade back. He comes around the car and opens the driver’s door, leaning in. “You’re gonna be coming through to pick me up in a second. Just wait.”
*********
I look down at the floor of the DMV and shake my head, trying and failing to push down my thoughts of Matt. Today is probably the hardest day without him I've had since we first broke up two months ago. Two months since I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life and didn’t even have the strength to try and fix it. Every time I think about the look in Matt’s eyes when I told him we were done, I want to crumble. So instead, I try not to think about it at all.
The attendant calls my name sharply and it snaps me out of my impending pity party. I quickly scramble over and take my license from her, muttering a quiet thank you. As I head back to my car, I can’t take my eyes off it. I always thought this moment would be so much bigger but it just feels empty now.
When I get in my car, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel for a second trying to clear my head. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to muster up something resembling self-respect before my heart wins out and I pull out my phone. This is a bad idea. I know it and repeat it to myself as I type Matt’s name into my Instagram search bar.
This has been a hard limit I set with myself, alongside not texting him or his brothers. I don’t stalk his Instagram like some psycho ex. Except apparently, I do today. And god, he looks good. His hair is longer than the last time I saw him, the ends curling up slightly. In his most recent post, he’s got a slight smile as he looks up at the camera but it’s the glint of something around his neck that makes my breath hitch. I scroll to his next post and zoom in to confirm it’s what I think it is and my eyes begin to water. He’s still wearing the necklace I got him on our first Valentine’s Day.
I close my phone and pull down my sun visor, staring into the mirror. Does it mean he still loves me? Do I still have a chance? Or does he just really like that necklace? I shake my head and push the visor up, throwing the car into reverse. It doesn’t matter. If there’s even still a fraction of a chance, I have to try.
*********
This was a mistake. I’m an absolute freak. I’m a loser. Why would I drive to this man’s house like everything’s fine? I put my head in my hands and count to three trying to calm down. I’ve been sitting outside of the triplet’s house for two minutes trying to get my nerve back but with every passing second I feel stupider.
Okay, it’s fine. This is fine. Before I can talk myself out of it anymore, I get out of my car and march up to their door. I knock twice, deciding that if they don’t answer in ten seconds I can run back to my car and pretend this never happened. I get all the way to eight before Chris swings the door open. We stare at each other blankly for a couple of breaths before Chris turns and calls for Matt to come down. He turns back to me, hardening his eyes. But he must see something in my face that makes him take pity because he just sighs before leaning in and whispering a low, “Don’t fuck this up, kid.”
As soon as Matt starts down the stairs, Chris turns and rushes back up, tapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder when he passes him. When he sees me in the doorway, Matt freezes momentarily, recovering quickly and setting his jaw. I take an involuntary step backward at the icy look he gives me as he leans against the door frame.
“Can I help you?” He asks. His voice has way less steel than I expected but the question still guts me. It feels like I’m standing in front of a stranger and not the boy who used to hold me every night.
“I just-” I start, biting down on my bottom lip as I try not to cry. “I got my driver’s license today,” I say lamely. I cringe slightly and he furrows his brow in confusion.
“Okay?”
“I just wanted to tell you that, I guess.”
“Alright. Thanks for the headline.” He says sarcastically.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” I say, turning to retreat.
“That’s what you’re sorry for?” He demands, clearly angry now. “You’re not sorry for leaving me out of nowhere? For never answering a single one of my messages? For breaking my fucking heart?”
I swallow thickly and nod, stepping closer. “Matt. I’m sorry for all of that. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I promise you that was never my intention. I was just scared.” He laughs bitterly at that and shakes his head.
“No. You don’t get to use that excuse. Everybody’s scared. I was scared. You don’t get to just run when shit gets real.” His voice cracks a bit at the end and he runs his hand over his face. I reach out tentatively and place my hand on his arm. He locks eyes with me at the touch but doesn’t immediately snatch away.
“I wish I could take it back. I wish every day that I had just talked to you. And I understand if you can’t forgive me for that, Matt. I don’t know if I would either. But, I promise if you can, I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving that I’m all in.” His eyes search mine desperately for truth and I hold my breath waiting for his response.
“Tell me that you love me.” He says, quietly.
My heart jumps as fear floods my body. I’ve never said it out loud before. I exhale deeply, letting my eyes trail over his face. “I love you, Matt.” My voice is a little wobbly but I pour as much honesty as I can into those words, hoping he hears what he needs.
He nods, his serious demeanor still in place, and sticks out his pinky finger. I laugh wryly and lock our pinkies, sealing the promise.
Matt pulls me inside of the house and takes my face in his hands, kissing me so intensely that my body leans sideways. He pulls away, pressing another one to my lips quickly and then drawing me into his arms. I wrap myself around his waist, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted.
“I missed you so much.” Matt’s voice grates against my ear as he kisses behind it. I slip my hands under his shirt before I pull back to look at his face and grin.
“Enough to finally let me drive you on the interstate?” I say hopefully.
“Absolutely fucking not-”
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