#Cevans x You | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boxofbonesfic · 10 months

Text

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [5]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,761

A/N: i cannot wait to see what you all think of this latest development! please drop by my ask with thoughts or comments, and as always, thanks everyone for your patience! ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

To your absolute horror, Lloyd doesn’t stop. You’re dizzy, both from the realization and the even, steady grind of his hips. It’s terribly familiar, the way he touches you—like it’s not the first time. Your stomach rolls as an anguished wail tears from your lips at the thought, because it’s the same one you’ve been shoving down, burying underneath every single other thing you can think of, because it couldn’t be true. Ransom wouldn’t do that you, he wouldn’t—

But he has.

Lloyd clucks his tongue at you, and reaches forward to cup your face. “You can scream, Princess.” He grins. “I know you can’t keep quiet anyway.” His words turn your stomach. Your arms, previously paralyzed at your sides, come up to push frantically at his face and chest as you curse.

“Get the fuck off me, Lloyd!” You scream, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even falter as he continues to rut into your shamefully wet cunt. He doesn’t budge, like your blows don’t even hurt. It makes you even more panicked, your eyes growing wide as you sob. Frantically, you scream for your husband, your voice swallowed by the crashing surf.

“Ransom—! Ran—” Lloyd silences you with a kiss, swallowing your fear as he presses his lips to yours. Your shock allows him entry, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you squirm beneath him. Lloyd catches your arms easily, forcing them back against the rock behind you.

“What’s the worst part, Princess?” He asks mockingly, his amused chuckle puffing against your lips. “That it’s me? Or that you liked it? That you always liked it?” You don’t want it to be true, shaking your head as you stare at him with tear-filled eyes. He nods in response, as slow and deliberate as his thrusts. Your stomach churns with the combination of this forbidden knowledge and the unwanted pleasure that creeps up your spine.

He knows your body, that much is obvious. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, a hundred thousand puzzle pieces falling perfectly into place as your life crumbles around them. Lloyd holds you like Ransom, kisses you like Ransom—

Or does Ransom kiss you like Lloyd?

He plays your body perfectly, like you’re an instrument he’s already mastered. Even as your head swims, the thick weight of his cock drawing pleasure from you even as you fight against it. You can hear it, how wet you are, how much your traitorous body is enjoying Lloyd. It’s maddening, the way you clench and quake beneath him, struggling ineffectually against pleasure you don’t want. He transfers both your wrists to one hand, using the other to cup your chin.

“It’s really not as bad as you think,” he coos, dragging his thumb through your tears. He kisses you again, painfully softly. “I know what you like.” Lloyd’s fingers taste like the sea as he draws them across your trembling lips. “I know what you hate.” He traces circles around your puffy nipples, before painting stripes of salt-water down your belly. He spreads your lips wider with two fingers and draws those same circles around your clit.

“I hate you!” You grit through clenched teeth, through your furious, shameful tears. Lloyd clucks his tongue, before leaning down to nose at the skin of your throat.

“No you don’t, Princess. You love Ransom—so you love me. We’re the same, baby-doll.” He leans up, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t you get that yet?” You don’t want it to be true, it can’t be, they’re so different—but even as you think it, you know he’s not lying. You’re reeling, the stretch-burn, the raw pleasure of him inside you, the knowledge that he’s been there before—

You wail as you cum, staring unseeingly at the sky. Lloyd doesn’t even give you the courtesy of slowing down, instead fucking you steadily through it with his cock and fingers buried in your cunt. He carries you, unwilling, from one height to the next, twitching and pleading. When he finally pulls his fingers from your soaked folds, he sucks them clean.

“Love you so much, Princess,” he groans, rocking his hips steadily into yours as you mewl miserably. “I can wait for you to know you love me too.” His fingers press the skin of your hips like Ransom’s. Lloyd sucks your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth with a growl. He holds you still while he empties into you. As he pants against your mouth, he grins.

“Feels good not to have to pretend.”

“Get off me.” You hiss at him, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. This time, he listens. He pulls out of you with an appreciative hum, stopping briefly to admire the slick, sticky mess he’s made. You pull your swimsuit down roughly, tugging your shirt tightly around yourself like a shield while you grab your now soaked shorts from the water, and begin to struggle into them.

“Let me—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shriek, jumping further backwards into the surf. You slip on the rocks, barely remaining upright as you scramble away. “Y-you don’t touch me!” You brandish a slick rock in your hand as threateningly as you can. “I—I’m going to tell Ransom, an-and—”

The look he gives you is almost pitying. “Oh Princess. Go on and tell him.” He nods at you with a sick smile. “Tell me what he says.” Lloyd holds his hands up as you retreat, giving him as wide a berth as you an as you circle back to shore. He doesn’t follow you, watching as you stumble across the sand. You head into the trees and underbrush ringing the beach, fleeing your brother-in-law’s gaze. You know the general direction of the hotel, and you head that way, opting not to go back to the party.

The party. Your stomach turns as you think of it now, Linda’s words holding fresh meaning now. Did she know? Did Ransom? The entire idea was so ludicrous you could scarcely believe it was really happening—but it was. It had. The evidence of Lloyd’s transgression was smeared between your salt-stained thighs. You want to vomit, and so you do, leaning against a tree as you heave into the sand.

“Sweetheart?”

You look up, your eyes wild. It’s Ransom—or Lloyd. You don’t know, now, torn between wanting to rush into his arms, or turn and run. You simply stare at him distrustfully, mirroring his step forward with one back, maintaining the distance between you with careful precision.

“Baby, what’s wrong? You just wandered off, and—”

“Are you Lloyd?” You ask sharply, swallowing the desire to respond to his concern. You can’t trust your own eyes now, not anymore, and you don’t want to get close enough to verify.

Ransom stares at you confusedly.

“No? Why would you ask me that? Did something happen?” He takes another step closer, his arms outstretched placatingly. There’s true worry on his face as he takes in your wretched state, your open shirt and wet shorts, dirty feet and missing shoes. “Baby, did something happen?” He asks again, slower and more deliberate. You want to believe him, this man wearing your husband’s wedding ring, staring at you with the same eyes as the man you’d run away from.

“Tell me something about the fountain.”

“The what?”

“The fountain!” You shrill hoarsely. “The fountain, from—”

“The one in the village,” Ransom finishes. “With the messed up tiles.”

This time, you can’t stop yourself from rushing into his arms, sobbing.

“I—Lloyd, he—” The words won’t come out between your hiccoughing sobs, and you settle for burying your face in his chest as Ransom wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly, pressing you to his body as you wail. The truth sticks in your throat like taffy as you tangle your fingers in his shirt, tears soaking into the expensive fabric.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” His voice is soothing. “I’m here. I got you, okay? I got you.” He doesn’t rush you, waiting until the tears slow to press a kiss into your hair. “You don’t have to talk right now. Let’s get you back to the room, okay?”

Ransom practically carries you through the underbrush, emerging near the long stairwell up from the beach. Your family—and his—are still down at the party, but you barely spare them a glance as you stagger up the sandy concrete steps. Before long, the ringing in your ears blocks out the music anyway, and all you can think about is Lloyd’s response to your threat.

Go on and tell him. Tell me what he says.

Lloyd is nowhere to be seen as you enter the villa, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t even realize you’d been watching for him, waiting for him to appear like he always did—but he doesn’t. You’re relieved as Ransom leads you back into the bedroom and closes the door behind you. For a moment, you’re not sure what to do with yourself, standing blankly by the door while Ransom watches you helplessly.

“Sweetheart… can you tell me?” He asks, resting his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at his touch instead of leaning into it, and pain flashes briefly across your face. Somehow, you are hesitant to name the shape of the monster that haunts you even now, like Lloyd had cursed your jaw to stick. With difficulty, your force it open.

“He—he pretended… he was you. And… we… I didn’t know, Ran, I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” you babble, tears forming in your red, glassy eyes. You’re expecting to see his face crease with disgust at the part you won’t say out loud, but it doesn’t. Ransom’s silent, his face scrunching first with disappointment and then anger. You can tell he’s looking for an outlet, and he settles on routine.

“Did you take your vitamins, Sweetheart?” He replies, a worried hand on your belly. “Does anything… hurt?” You shake your head.

“N-no.” Ransom turns to the dresser, grabbing the bottles and shaking out your pills one by one. You take them, shuffling into the suite’s bathroom. You a cup cool water from the faucet and bring it to your lips, swallowing them down with a grimace.

“Let’s get you a bath, Baby.”

You nod wordlessly.

Ransom helps you get undressed, and you watch his jaw tic at Lloyd’s drying cum on your thighs. He fills the whirlpool tub with hot water, and you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as you watch him. When it’s full, he helps you into it before splashing into the water himself. He sits on the back side of the tub with you between his knees, reaching down to hold you as you sink into the water.

You lean back against your husband, fresh tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. I want to wake up now. There’s little you wouldn’t give to open your eyes and find yourself on the beach, this terrible nightmare broken. But when you do open your eyes, you’re still in the bathroom, your husband’s hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you wash away the evidence of his brother’s sin.

“Oh Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.” He strokes your hair as he speaks to you softly, gently, like he’s soothing an animal. “Lloyd’s a lot of things. Impatient, being chiefest among them.” You freeze, the air seeming to flow right out of your lungs—out of the whole room. The dripping of the faucet is as loud as thunder.

“W-what?”

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, Sweetheart, believe me.” You wrench yourself away from him, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as you stare at your husband in disbelief. It feels like reality is crumbling to nothing as you watch, bleached into dust by the brightness of his sad smile. It’s all you can see.

“N-no, no no no no—” He reaches for you, and you slap his had away, tripping as you scramble out of the tub. “You knew.” You moan, bile rising in your throat as you wrap a towel around yourself. “You—you always knew.” Ransom rises from the lip of the tub and steps out onto the tile. You want to vomit, but there’s nothing left to bring up as you dry-heave into the sink.

“Sweetheart, I need you to calm down, this stress isn’t good for the baby.”

“The baby—” You let out a despairing little laugh. “How long, Ransom?” You ask him hoarsely. “How long have you been letting this happen?” Finally, your husband has the decency to look ashamed.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” You scream, pounding a fist against the counter. “Yes it fucking matters!”

“I think before New Years, last year.”

“A—a year?” You choke out the words as you clutch your belly with a shaking hand. The baby—you don’t even know if it’s Ransom’s. You feel dirty, despite having bathed. Deeper than your skin, like something inside is tainted, rotten. You want to crawl out of it, leave it behind like a shell. Perhaps then you might be able to draw enough air into your tight lungs to be able to do more than sputter your husband’s words back at him in abject disbelief.

You don’t want to relive the last year and a half but you can’t help it, flipping through the moments like flash cards as you try to pinpoint every transgression, every lie. For every possible memory that feels wrong, there are dozens of blank spaces, empty places where recollection should be. Your husband had poked his finger through the thin saran wrap of your memories, and you hadn’t even realized it was happening.

Ransom reaches forward to rest a hand on your back and you shove him so hard he stumbles, your eyes wild.

“Don’t touch me. You—you will never touch me again.” You hiss, the words ragged. Ransom scowls at you as you storm out of the bathroom, the towel still clutched against your heaving chest. You can barely hear anything over the sound of your own ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart. They’d been switching off for over a year, and you hadn’t even noticed. Sickness and shame twine in your gut as you snatch the clothes in the closet off their hangers, throwing them into your open suitcase without bothering to fold them.

“Sweetheart, don’t be rash. The baby—”

“Will not even know your name.” You don’t look at Ransom—you can’t. You feel like you don’t even know him, and you can’t help but wonder if you ever did. He’d known—hell, maybe he’d even participated in Lloyd’s sick games. The man you’d thought you married would never have stood for that. You grit your teeth as Ransom scoffs amusedly behind you.

“You’re just going to pack your suitcase and go, is that it?” There’s a cruel edge to his voice you don’t recognize—it makes him sound like Lloyd. “Baby I’m just trying to give you what you want.” You glare at him over your shoulder before returning to packing, refusing to even entertain the discussion. You push past him to get to the dresser, pulling out the rest of your things.

“You’re not thinking clearly, and I think if you really stopped and gave it some thought, you’d realize you’re making a mistake.”

“Oh, I’m the one making the mistake?” You can’t help but turn to spit venom over your shoulder. “You and your brother took turns on me like a fucking carnival ride, but I’m making a mistake?”

“You wanted a big family, a stable family. One nobody could touch—”

“You’re sick.” You swallow against the bitter acid in your throat. “How can you try to make this okay? I—I never want to see you again. Ever. I—I really, truly mean that.” The needle inside you continues to swing between rage and abject horror as you dress yourself, practically shoving your limbs into the most convenient pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Your head buzzes with the turmoil of it all, practically full to bursting. Your passport is still in the bedside table, and you make sure you grab it, shoving it into your pocket before throwing open the bedroom door.

It’s hard to breathe around the ache in your chest as you drag your heavy suitcase down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of your husband behind you. You’re bordering on hysteria, frantic tears and snot running down your face as you flee your husband’s placating words. That’s probably the most maddening part of it—how he continues to parse out the words slowly, patiently, like he’s waiting for you to realize how sensible he’s being. You’re about ten seconds away from clapping your hands over your ears like a child, so you don’t have to hear him anymore

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.” Ransom calls after you. You stagger against the wall as your knees tremble, but you force yourself through it. Your heart is beating wildly, your palms clammy as you look back at your husband. You don’t expect to see him smiling. “You’re not being rational, baby.”

You don’t even know how to respond. The only words that seem to come to mind are insults, curses; the violent ills you’re currently wishing on your husband and his family. You can’t listen to him—it’s only going to make you more enraged. You already feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, as you gulp down ragged breaths, your vision swimming. You rest a hand against the kitchen island, your whole body throbbing hotly with your pulse.

“Shut the fuck up, Ransom,” you pant. “You can’t spin this.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ignores your acid glare, leaning forward to curl a lock of your hair around his finger. You push him away, but the movement is clumsy, your hand swinging bonelessly at the end of your arm. “You know how persuasive I can be.”

“You’re really just like him.” It slips out before you can stop it as you shake your head in astonishment.

“Oh what, you just figure that out?” Ransom’s voice is mockingly soft. “It took you long enough.”

You slap him.

The sound of it is loud and sharp, and Ransom’s head actually turns with the force of it, your husband stumbling back a few steps. It was his surprise that had allowed it—you and Ransom had never struck each other, not counting the playful smacks he delivered in the bedroom. For a moment he stays like that, frozen, before slowly turning to look at you. Your wedding ring had split his lip, and you watch as he draws his thumb across it smearing the bright line of crimson across his mouth.

“You’re starting to piss me off, Sweetheart.” His hand clamps so tightly around your wrist that it hurts, and you yelp, pushing uselessly at his chest. Ransom had never been violent with you, never even given you reason to suspect he would raise a hand to you, but as he bends you over the kitchen island, you feel fear. Your husband twists your arms behind your back, ignoring your pained whimper when he squeezes too tight.

This—this isn’t happening. It’s not. My family is here, my, my father—

You wail, the sound muffled by the marble countertop and your tears, salt and snot running onto the counter beneath your cheek.

“Just let me go, Ransom—”

“Oh Baby we are way past that.” The kiss he presses into your hair makes nausea churn in your belly, and you let out another sob. “I put a ring on that—where’s your finger, baby, let me see—ah! There it is.” Ransom holds your hand up, his fingers digging into the meat of your palm. “On that finger,” he continues, tapping the diamond with his fingernail. “Till death do us part, Sweetheart, that’s what we said. That’s what you promised me—and Lloyd.”

“You’re crazy—” The words stick in your throat as your vision tunnels. I feel sick. You do, your stomach churning as your heartbeat thunders in your ringing ears.

“Wha-you do’t me?” The words are like bubblegum in your mouth as your husband chuckles softly.

“You didn’t really think those were all vitamins, did you?” Your eyes widen with horror as you begin to struggle again, flailing your uncoordinated limbs as you try to force Ransom off of you. “Now don’t worry, it’s nothing that could hurt the baby,” he says reassuringly, as if that is your only cause for concern.

“Noo,” you moan, wriggling feebly beneath him as you feel yourself recede further and further into your body. “Don’ wannit.”

“I know, Sweetheart. But what you want isn’t good for the family,” he says, stroking a gentle finger over the curve of your cheek. “You want to run, too run from what we’re trying to build with you. For you,” Ransom releases you as the sound of nearby voices reach your buzzing ears. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

He steps away from you as Nathalie bursts through the door, holding a champagne bottle by the neck as she dances to music blaring from her phone speakers.

“There you are, chica, we were looking—mom! Dad! She’s in here! I thought you—are you okay?” She sets the bottle down on the small table to the right of the sliding door. She rushes over to you, looping one limp arm around your shoulders as concern sets into the lines of her face. “Jesus, I—Ransom! What’s wrong with her?!”

Your husband appears in your tunnel-vision, carding a worried hand through his hair.

“Thank fucking Christ, Nathalie—I was just going to text you. I think she’s having a reaction to something, I don’t know—”

“Nn-Nat don-bel—eev ‘m,” your warning slurs together into an unintelligible soup as your head lolls. Nathalie tries to stand you up against the counter, and dimly you are aware of her calling for your parents, her voice muffled like she’s talking underwater.

Lloyd—or is it Ransom?—lays you down on the countertop, his grinning face looming over you as your vision narrows down to a pinprick, the concern in his voice at complete odds with the grin on his face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

to be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

834 notes · View notes

lilacevans · 3 months

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝: 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

✧.* : ̗̀➛ dark!ari levinson x female!reader (non-descriptive)

✧.* : ̗̀➛ word count: 475.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ warnings: verbal humiliation, ball-sucking, references to face slapping, dirty talk, filthy ari.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ requested by: anonymous

✧.* : ̗̀➛ notes: the big one is here!! this one was really fun to write; although i do need to get better at writing dirty talk as idk i just struggle with it but that's the whole point of these little drabbles. if u have any pointers pls don't hesitate to drop them in my ask box, i always welcome help!! anyway! enjoy my ari lovin' besties!! pls lemme know what u think & check out the main masterlist if this is the first your seeing anything of this series!!

*this is an 18+ space. minors are not welcome here.

*this is a dark au. there are no happy endings here.

Ari sat, propped up by an assortment of pillows against the headboard, head tipped back; long sandy strands clung to the sweat on his brow.

Soft amber glows from the setting sun snuck in through the glass panes, covering your naked body with a fading warmth as you laid between his legs. Red lipstick smeared over your lips, cheek and chin; the same red lipstick covered Ari’s thighs in pretty kisses smudging under your fingertips as you kneaded his thighs as you lapped at the skin of his balls, letting out soft, muted moans that made Ari reply with pleased hums and chesty grunts.

Heat burnt across your cheeks and the burning remnants of Ari’s heavy palms on your thighs blended together. The hues of red smeared across your face was complimented by the muted pink of your tongue, skilfully rubbing at the underside of Ari’s balls before your lips parted to suck one slowly into your mouth.

‘’That’s it, Pup,’’ Ari groaned, slow and deep; hand stroking over your hair, his hand settling lightly on the back of your neck; the sudden softness from the heaviness of his hands earlier caused your head to spin. ‘’Such a good pup.”

You whined at the sound of his drawled praise, pleasure filled and throbbing core. Your hips humped at the sheets below you, hopelessly trying to find enough pressure to relieve the ache between your legs. Ari’s chuckle soon brought you out of your head as you peered up to find his gaze locked on you, a smirk pulled at his lips.

‘’Pathetic little Pup, humping the sheets like a bitch in heat. Live for nothin’ but to be used— nothin’ but hole,’’ Ari taunted, hand now gripping the back of your neck, drawing you closer to his sack. ‘’And you fuckin’ love it. You know you do. You’d waste days between my thighs, wouldn’t you, Pup?”

A pitiful whine escaped your throat as you were forced to lower your gaze from his intense stare, trying to sink into the sheets while keeping your mouth and tongue running over his balls.

‘’Tryna’ hide from me, Pup?’’ Ari teased, fingers finding your face to tilt your eyes back to him. ‘’Don’t go shy on me now,’’ Ari continued, teeth on show as he gleamed down at you. ‘’I know that slutty mouth can fit more than one in there; will stuff your mouth full if I have to.``

Ari’s threat made you push yourself, widening your mouth and using your fingertips to manipulate both of his heavy balls to settle against your tongue. Your eyes fluttered closed, moaning softly around the skin, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth; stuffed to the brim and overflowing with everything Ari.

‘’That’s it, get ‘em dripping, pet,’’ Ari moaned into the open air. ‘’You fuckin’ love it,’’ Ari repeated breathlessly as a hand disappeared from your hair and moved to fist at his leaking cock. “Gonna keep you there forever.”

314 notes · View notes

haleyboook · 4 months

Text

Christmas cheer

When a relationship not known by Chris’ family is suddenly front and center when he insists on her coming to his family Christmas festivities. Just how insane can she expect it to be? And how bad will it effect her relationship?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“I just need my bathing suit and I’ll have all my clothes ready to be packed.” I tell him as I hold the laundry basket in my arms

He nods as he remains half out of it staring at me

“Chris?”

“Mmhm?”

“What’s on your mind?”

He sighs as he sits up saying “I’m not liking the idea of not being together on Christmas. The best holiday.”

I drop the laundry basket and walk over to him, I sit on the armrest of the chair as he pulls me towards him

His lips press to my shoulder as he says “The Bahamas are so lame right now. Change your flight. Let’s go there for New Years. Boston is so beautiful right now.”

Sighing I say “My whole family is there, and they would love to meet you. You know that. I talk about you all the time and my mom already loves you. Why don’t you come with me? And then we can celebrate New Years with your family?”

Slowly he considers giving in as my eyes practically melt him and my lips press to his as I smile widely

The corners of his lips curve upwards in response to me and he groans saying “My mom and sisters would kill me if I missed Christmas. My nieces and nephews are expecting me there.”

Nodding I sigh saying “So basically we can’t spend the holiday together. And we’re back to square one.”

He smiles to me and says “Yeah. I guess so.”

But that look on his face for a split second was awfully mischievous and I know he’s up to something.

He pushes my hair out of my face and kisses my collarbones as we draw closer to each other

“It’s snowing in Boston. Have you ever been to Boston when it’s snowing?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Winter is my second favorite season there. A white Christmas is my favorite. And my family goes all nine yards.”

“Oh really? What do they do?”

He smiles and says “Well my whole big family pile into my childhood home and we spend the whole week together. My mom has us baking and cooking all week and we go see a Christmas play on Christmas Eve. And we have a Christmas Eve party after. And Christmas Day is the best, seeing my niece and nephews excitement over the gifts is the best. My mom makes us spiked hot chocolate and we have this massive dinner. It’s literally heaven.”

The pause sits for awhile as I think on my family, my parents have my sisters and all their friends in the Bahamas with them currently

I paid for the vacation, called it an early Christmas gift.

But… Boston doesn’t sound too bad

“If.. I can change my flight, I’m in.”

His eyes widen suddenly as he looks to me surprised saying “You’re serious?”

I scoff saying “Was that not a real offer?”

“No! No it was real. I’ll.. I’ll call my mom telling her you’re coming along.”

I nod and stare at the laundry across the room. I sigh saying “im not going to need that bathing suit am I?”

He laughs whole heartedly and I grumble saying “You owe me time at the beach. I need ocean and sun time.”

“Promise. New Years with your family in the Bahamas. We can stay a week longer than your family. Just us.”

I sigh into him as I grow relaxed, nodding saying “That sounds perfect. Just what I need after the shit-show movie I just wrapped.”

“He was a terrible director.”

“He made me pull my hair out. I need to strictly rely on Greta and Sofia for work. They’re the only tolerable directors I’ve worked with. Besides obviously the marvel projects.”

He nods saying “Making everyone work on a holiday is crazy.”

“Well you saw how well that worked out for him.”

Chris laughs saying “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie crew so happy that an actress went full diva for them.”

“They all deserved to be with their families, regardless if they celebrated the holiday or not.”

“Trust me, I know they were thankful.”

I sigh saying “Yeah…. Now tell me what I need to pack for Boston.”

“You need to start with at least 3-4 coats or jackets.”

I make a winced face and say “You’re kidding.”

“That doesn’t include winter coats. Do you have a winter—”

He pauses as he looks to me as I produce a pinched expression and shrug saying “I don’t own anything like that.”

“We’ve got a lot of work to do then.”

The flight was simple enough, I overpacked and had to check my bag. Chris didn’t have to, he had a small enough bag for it to be a carry on

I realized how big of a mistake it was to check my bag the minute I started looking through the carousels for my suitcase

Only to my surprise it never came around. Chris felt terrible as the flight attendant informed me that my suitcase, along with half the passengers were left to fly out on the next plane

I blinked in response to her, feeling anger rise within me “what do you mean you left my suitcase?”

“It will be delivered here in a few hours. We can ship it to the address you—”

“I just want my things! Why couldn’t you fit my suitcase on the plane?”

“There are certain rules and regulations we need to follow, the flight was sold out and we couldn’t exceed a certain weight—”

“Everything I need is in my suitcase! It’s 25 degrees out! I need my things!”

Chris wraps his arm around me attempting to calm me down saying “Honey… honey it’s alright. We’ll figure it out.”

I scoff saying “Don’t give me that. You carried your suitcase on. You have everything you could possibly need. I have nothing. My scripts were in there. I needed to run those lines.”

He sighs and attempts to comfort me as he looks to the lady saying “How soon will it be shipped?”

“The second it’s in our custody. You should get it by tomorrow.”

“That’s not so bad, you’ll have all your things by tomorrow. In the meantime we’ll figure something out.”

The Bahamas are sounding a lot better now

“Yeah. Okay..” I say unconvinced and on edge

Chris had called his mom a day ago telling her he was bringing his girlfriend and she was surprised to find out so late in advance

Pretty frustrated this is one of the few times she’d even heard about me.

But before I wasn’t even his girlfriend, we were just going on a few dates. He thought it was easier to just say that to his mother instead

We were both so busy, there was no time to share with anyone else but each other

And we used every single minute we could find with the other

He’d fly to me and leave in the morning. Or I’d fly in at 9am and have to leave at 12am.

He knows he should have mentioned his girlfriend earlier, to not only his mother but probably his sisters and practically anyone else in his family

I ask as he drives our rental car towards the house “Scott’s there already?”

He’s the one person I really knew from his family, considering how often he visited

“Yeah. He just got to the house this morning.”

I swallow hard saying “And your mom, Lisa knows I’m coming to Christmas?”

“She knows, relax y/n. There’s nothing to worry about. My mom will love you and we’ll have a great time.”

“So your older is Carly, and Shanna is your younger sister. Then there’s your dad and he’s a dentist. And then there’s miles and—”

“Clearly you’ve done your research.”

I sigh as I run my hands down my face saying “I wouldn’t even need to. You love your family, you talk about them constantly. I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve met them. I could probably recite their birthdays at this point… oh my god. Don’t let me say that to them. I’m losing my mind. I’m so nervous, were you this nervous to meet my mom?”

He laughs as I scramble my sentences together quickly, talking way too fast

“Your mother gave me no warning, I met her in my boxers while I was getting the paper. I had no time to be nervous.”

I smile and look to him saying “She thought you were handsome immediately.”

He shakes his head saying with a chuckle “No, her first comment was asking why I was so pale.”

Laughing I shake my head saying “I can’t believe she said that.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

He livens up my mood just switching the topic, I feel better already. He squeezes my hand saying “Just don’t overthink this and you’ll do great. Promise.”

And that’s when we turned down a street where I saw a suburban neighborhood, it was different than I was used to

There was an inflatable Santa on the large patch of grass in the front yard and lights thrown up onto the gutters, brightly colored

The driveway was full and it made me uneasy. Chris put the car in park and once he turned off the engine he looked to me “you ready to go in?”

“The gifts were in my suitcase, Chris. I have nothing for them—”

“You have your bright smile. That’s enough, we can go shopping in the morning or wait for your suitcase. All that matters is the gifts under the tree by Christmas.”

A sigh releases my lips as I look to the sprawl of inflatables across the front yard that I hadn’t noticed earlier

Some that are so clearly Boston suburbia that it’s odd to me

“Oh. That’s Jim. Moms had that inflatable for decades. It’s older than all the grandkids combined.”

“What is… it supposed to be?”

“It used to be an 8foot tall snowman, one of the first to be released. But it’s face wore off so is kids drew a new one on with sharpie and… yeah that was the result.”

Scott slowly sneaks around the car, and slams his palms into the glass of my car door

I scream as I jerk my head towards him and heave heavy breaths as my screaming stops

Chris laughs loudly and boisterous as I nearly kick the door open. It hitting Scott as I climb out, pushing his shoulder as his laugher only annoys me

“You’re an asshole!”

He and Chris just think my reaction is the funniest thing possible

“Did you hit your head when you jumped that high?”

He tumbles to the ground as he falls in the snow and practically cries with laughter

I huff in annoyance saying “Why would you do that?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Scott struggles to say as he gasps for air as his laughter slows

I look to Scott saying “We have a whole competition going, scaring each other. We do this basically every time everyone’s home.”

Chris smiles as he says “She has an out, it’s her first Christmas with us. She is free of the jump scares.”

“No way! She needs to experience the evans family Christmas in every way.”

Chris gives Scott a look and I walk away saying “I’m freezing. Can we please go inside.”

Scott nods saying “that sounds like a great idea.”

Chris nods as he lifts his suitcase through the snow and pulls his jacket off as he drapes it over my shoulders

I look to him thankfully as I tighten it around me. I slow to a stop as I wait for one of the two brothers to lead the way

Chris steps in front of me as he says “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just cold—” but I’m cut off by Scott running towards us and throwing a snowball into the back of Chris’ head

Scott laughs as I feel the corners of my smile turning upwards quickly as I laugh quietly as Chris huffs out a breath of annoyance

“oh… little brother you so shouldn’t have started this.”

“Chris.” I plead as his hand digs into the snow

“Just let me reach this little punk a lesson.”

And they’re already at it with each other. I stand there as Chris creates a snow ball throwing it towards his brother as Scott ducks out of the shot

My sisters and I were never like this. They were 12-15 years older than me. By the time I was 5-6 years old they were out of the house or in college. I was basically an only child with occasional visits from my sisters

But Bree moved to England for a job and Elise lives across the US. Hawaii, with her husband. Her husband is stationed in the navy there

I wince as both Scott and Chris tumble roughly into the snow but I smile because it’s hilarious

“They do this often.”

My shoulders jump at the voice, I thought I was alone out here

I look to the woman and say “And I’m sure it’s entertaining every time.” My smile shines towards her and she breathes out a laugh saying “Yeah. Most of the time. I’m Shanna. You must be y/n, his girlfriend. Right?”

Nodding I say “yes, that is me. I’m sorry to intrude on your Christmas, he insisted I have a Boston Christmas.”

“You don’t have family around here?”

I pause and say “They’re in the Bahamas for Christmas.”

“And you picked this over that?” She laughs as I shake my head saying “I couldn’t leave him. We try to spend any second we can together. I’m sorry, are you Carly or Shanna? Chris talks about his sisters so much but I can’t place your name.”

She smiles saying “Shanna. His younger sister.”

“Oh okay. Thank you.

She nods saying “How’d the two of you meet?”

“Work. Of course. There’s not really anywhere else I could’ve meet someone.”

“You’re an actor too?”

I nod and say “Yeah.”

“Are you cold? We could go in while they sort this whole thing out?”

I look towards Chris as he has Scott pinned down with knee pressed against his back.

Scott’s face doesn’t leave the patch of snow as Chris tells him to tap out

I look to their sister saying “Is this normal?”

Shanna smiles saying “Yes. When they’re around each other they get like this. They’re brothers that’s for sure haha.”

I bite at my lip saying “I really am freezing. We could go in.. I’m just anxious.”

“Why don’t you head in while I get these idiots into the house?”

She steps away before I can argue the offer

I swallow hard and walk towards the house, I so don’t want to go in alone

Scott is pulled up from the snow and pushes his brother as he looks to me as Chris brushes off the snow on his clothes

“Babe, you can head in. You look like you’re about to freeze.”

I nod to Chris and ask “Just walk in?”

“My ma doesn’t care, she has everyone just walk right in.”

I stare at the door as I push it open and enter the house. Shutting it behind me to keep all the warmth in the house

I’m first hit with voices and I slow to a stop as I attempt not to intrude

But then I quickly realize they’re talking about me

“No, this is really the first time he’s ever brought her up. He told me all about her a day ago and that she was coming for Christmas.”

“Shanna is laying into her for answers and to find out what kind of person she is. God I hope she’s not some arrogant brat.”

My eyes widen suddenly as my arms drop to my sides quickly

“God knows Chris has poor taste in women. Should be interesting to meet her. From what he’s told me she’s a bit high maintenance.”

My eyebrows shoot up at that and I huff in annoyance

“I can only hope she isn’t some privileged obnoxious child. Chris didn’t give me much, only that they didn’t want to be apart. It sounds like they’re pretty serious.”

“How close could they be if he kept her hidden from us? She’s got to be the reason he skipped literally everything for thanksgiving but the dinner. He literally rolled in here at 3 and left by 8.”

The pause in conversation leaves me frozen in the entry way as I feel like I just stepped into something I shouldn’t hear

“You think he’s fallen for a girl who will keep him from us for holidays? That’s often what happens when a son marries someone.”

“You think they’re getting married?! He hardly knows the girl. God bless her but Chris could never commit to something like that. You know the cycle, give it a few more months and they’ll have moved on.”

“He said she can be difficult, especially under pressure. Like I said super high maintenance.”

“Probably means controlling.”

Excuse me?

“If this girl is wrong for him I’ll have a conversation with him. He’s my son, he’ll listen to me. She’ll be just another ex girlfriend if we don’t like her—”

I can feel the lump in my throat growing as I reach for the door handle but it opens and I take a step back as Chris steps in

He looks to me confused as I remain hovering by the door like I wanted to bolt, his arms find their way around my sides saying “you alright?”

My shoulders tighten and wind up as my whole body tightens up, I shrug in response as I slip from his grasp

Scott shouts “Ma! Chris and y/n are here!”

Chris huffs in response to his brother

The group of people file towards us as my hands pull at the zipper sides of Chris’ jacket that’s tightly wrapped around my body

Tightening it around me

“Chris!”

He bounds for his mother, and you could tell how much he loves him mom. That’s a strong hug around her. Clearly he missed her

Maybe she was right, I didn’t think I was keeping him from his family

Suddenly I feel super out of place as their whole family hugs and speaks to each other

Slowly I slip into the background of the family as my back presses to the door, everything growing overwhelming

“My sweet boy. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Controlling.

That word wanders around my head as I feel the weight of it

High maintenance

How could she have all these opinions of me before even meeting me?

Scott pulls away from his older sister saying “y/n, meet my sister Carly… y/n?” He looks behind him not finding me

I’m practically melting through the door as Chris suddenly pulls away from the conversation him and his mother are having

“honey?”

The people in front of me, serving as I wall suddenly break into two groups and the whole Evans family turns towards me

Chris looks to me with a widening smile and walks forward, grabbing my hand and saying “Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/n. I’ll introduce you to each person in a minute. Firstly, this is my ma.”

The woman looks to me and I feel the nauseous feeling grow as I stare at her nervously

She takes a step towards me as Chris’ warm hand leaves my back

She smiles and says “I’m Lisa. It’s so great to meet you.”

My grin slips as she pulls me into a hug and I grow frustrated as she says “Chris just adores you.”

I swear there’s sarcasm coming off her words

“Love, mom. I love her.” Chris confirms as his smile falls from his lips and I’m released. I’m basically introduced around and the minute I’m free from introductions I find Scott

He’s with Carly but I grab his wrist tightly and give him the crazy eyes. He excused himself from his sister as I pull him out front

“I have to get out of here.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

My hands pull down my face as I frown and say “Your mother doesn’t know I heard what she and Carly were saying in the kitchen.”

“What we’re they saying in the kitchen?” He leans forward, practically begging for the information

“Am I controlling?”

“What? Why would you…. Oh.” He pauses as he looks inside the glass panels for a second saying “she doesn’t know you. Don’t take what she said to heart. She probably read a bad article about you.”

I shake my head as I sit down on the front steps and he follows shortly after “They lost my suitcase. I have nothing. I’m feeling insecure enough already. And I know Chris is loving every minute of this but I’m just… overwhelmed and annoyed.”

Scott nods as he rubs my shoulder, and I continue saying “He never told his mom or anyone about me. They don’t know me. Would he have ever told them about me? He basically worships your mom. But I’m not important enough to be a topic?”

“I’m sure he has good reason, bee.”

I huff in response and cover my face saying “This is going to be a long week. You have to promise me you won’t leave my side. If Chris isn’t glued to my side you have to be. Please.”

His eyes widen and he says “That’s a big job.”

I narrow my eyes to him saying “Scott.”

He smiles lightly saying “Fine deal.”

“This is going to be a long week.” We both say in sync

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Oh hi! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it! I wanted to create a Christmas story, this is only going to be a few parts, I think (don’t know yet!)

I really enjoyed writing this part, I’m currently working on a part two! I hope you all enjoy this!

Next part>>

Make sure you comment to be added to the taglist!

More will be published soon! Promise!

Make sure you interact with my stories please!

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #chris evans x you #Chris evans Christmas #chris evans x y/n #cevans #captain america #marvel #Chris evans Christmas fic #Chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic

256 notes · View notes

frostironfudge · 2 years

Text

Over And Over - Ari Levinson Smut

Summary: Ari Levinson is a possessive man, he'll punish you till you apologise.

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: main kink: overstimulation, smut, dom/sub dynamics, possessiveness, praise kink, mild degradation kink, nickname - princess, oral f receiving, p in v, implied multiple orgasms, cockwarming, edging, nicknames: neshama sheli - my soul, metuka - sweetie/sweetheart, MINORS DNI, not red sea diving resort compliant.

A.N: ari is a feral, feral man but i think he's an adorable bear at times, this is not one of those times.

Word Count: 1k

Main Masterlist || AO3 || Kinktober Materlist

The haze is muted blue, sloshing of waters echoes in your mind, gaze unfocused but you feel yourself at the edge. A burning, numbing feeling creeps along your spine.

In a sense of deja vu you reckon, there is a distant sound of pleasure, followed by a choked sob. The buzzing stops, you sigh in relief. For what? Your mind searches through the haze.

“Oh sweetheart, too much?” Ari’s deep timber hums, your gaze moves from the swirls on the ceiling to the darkened almost blackened blue of his irises.

The sloshing returns in tandem with the deep strokes of his fingers, Ari reignites the flame and your mouth only knows to whimper and moan for him your thighs try to close. He only laughs at your feeble attempt to keep him away from what is his and his only.

“Oh sweet baby, you can’t keep my hands away from this greedy cunt. Come on now, give me my fifth orgasm. Come for me. I know you’re so close. Look at this filthy mess of your thighs and the sheets.” Ari croons, his voice both punishment and salvation the coil snaps, your walls spasm around his fingers pulling them back in because you can’t tolerate feeling empty. Its what landed you in trouble the first place.

“Look at all of this, mess of my hand, my thigh, my beard. All thats left is my cock. You want it don’t you, my little filthy, pretty slut.” Ari pinches you clit making you cry out.

“Please Ari—,” the sensitivity begins, even the soft satin of the sheets is brushing over your skin in bruising kisses. Aftershocks push through your form. Tears pooling in your eyes.

Ari’s lips trace over your collar bone, beard brushing over your flesh. His lips wrap around your nipples, sucking on the nub, he repeats the same to the other.

“Please what sweetness? Didn’t you want this? Sent me all those filthy little pictures.” Ari’s teeth graze around your nipple, the peaks hardened aching for attention, this fingers toy with the other.

“Ari, Ari, Ari—,” your hands find respite; his biceps, your nails dig in, Ari bites down on your nipple. He hisses you preen. Body keeping your limbs apart. The hard planes of his abdomen flush against your puffy core.

“How many more? Got me aching for your cunt. But what was it you said?” He wonders, grabbing your face. Eyes intently looking int yours.

“I’ll give you everything you want metuka, you know this, don’t you.” He promises, your hips raise against your will, clit brushing against the trimmed hair, “Greedy little girl. So perfect.”

Ari brushes his knuckles over your cheeks.

“You know what you have to say metuka this punishment will end.” His patience is wearing thin, he needs the apology from you. You can’t even remember.

“Oh, is little baby cock drunk? Can’t remember what she said? Lets see if your favourite vib—,”

“No,” you grasp his hand, “Need you, Ari.” You bite your lip but he only smirks.

“Metuka, I need you too, but you complained about finding someone else to keep you coming and full. Now, Four on the vibrator when I left the room and one on my fingers, one of my thigh, see just two more out of the eight. For the number of times you took his name while touching yourself and sending me a fucking video.” Ari growls, you whimper.

Warmth engulfs your nipple, you feel yourself grow slicker. Ari’s tongue swirls as he sucks upon the nub, fingers giving the other attention, he keeps switching. Every touch amplified, your stomach tightens.

Clit pulsing for attention, you arch in his unrelenting grip. Just as you’re at the edge he stops, he slips out of your grasp, you’re about to complain.

His mouth sucks on your aching clit. Tongue swirling around the bud. You moan, head pressing into the pillow, his beard rubs deliciously against the puffy lips.

Your broken sounds urging him onward, stomach tightening then he slows.

Your tongue acts on its own accord, your mind desperate for release, “Ari I’m sorry, please, please—oh,” you choke on your words a scream ripped from your throat as he fills you to the brim, the stretch burns so deliciously.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Ari hums appreciative, “Metuka, fuck,” he grunts, hips begin to snap and the tendrils retirn, his thick veiny cock hitting that spot as though he placed it right where his tip curves. Your legs spread wide one on his shoulder, his hand wrapped around your throat.

You cum undone, a whine escaping your lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, little filthy girl, creaming ovver my cock, fuck cunt’s sucking me in. You’re gonna milk my cock aren’t you? Pretty little slut.” His pace picks up, you only know Ari’s name it is music to his ears.

Urging him on he can feel himself close he takes his palm away from your thigh. Calloused fingers rub at your clit.

Your body spasms as do your walks, Ari groans your name as he spilled inside you. You moan voice cut off by his lips on yours as your final orgasm takes over.

Ari watches you, enamoured by your arousal snd his pooling at the base of his cock. Love-bites he left ob your tits glowing with the sheen of sweat that covers your delicious skin.

He manoeuvres you sideways, cock sliding back inside you as he pulls you to his chest pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder.

Your whimper as he shifts inside you.

“Have to keep you full, Metuka. You begged for it, I’m not done, that was just your punishment. Did so well for me.” He praises, hands running over you softly.

You nod, turning to capture his lips with yours, Ari hums, “Need to have you marked with my cum, tasting like me as well.”

“Ari.” You huff tired.

“In time Metuka.” He chuckles, kissing your cheek.

“I love you, neshama sheli.” Ari confesses against your shoulder.

“As I love you, neshama sheli.” Your fingers run through his hair.

-x-

3K notes · View notes

rogersevans · 2 years

Text

it’s you.

Summary; It’s always been him. You’ve just never noticed it before, until it was too late. One confession in a heated moment changes your entire relationship with Steve.

18+ Content Below the Cut, Minors DNI.

masterlist

“Fuck, Steve.” You moaned out as his hips snapped against your ass, the salacious sound filling the outdated motel room and mixing with his short and breathy grunts, driving you to the edge.

“That’s it, fuck.” The grip on your hips tightened, knowing there’d be bruises left there in the morning, but you didn’t care. “You’re taking me so well, Peach.” He praised, his bare chest meeting your back as he leaned over you, his breath hitting the back of your neck, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear and creating a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart practically swelling at his praise. “My good girl.” A soft, high-pitched whine fell from your lips when he punctuated his words with several hard thrusts.

You don’t remember how this situation started, but after a particularly hard day in a new country on the hunt for his best friend and almost getting shot in the process you found yourself in Steve’s bed, the smell of whiskey on his breath clouding your judgement as he pressed himself into you for the first time. Unknowing that he would be forever imprinted on you.

It was a mistake, two friends blowing off steam and fulfilling each other's needs. Nothing about it was romantic. You remembered how your bodies stuck together, the sweat gluing you together, his teeth scraping against your neck creating a delicious burn. It was fast and hard, both reaching your highs quickly.

The next morning you’d snuck out, not wanting the awkward conversation. The realisation that you’d just slept with your friend of 10 years hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You didn’t think it would happen again, just an embarrassing memory, a funny story to laugh about later down the line.

Until the next night when he broke into your motel room in the dead of night and took you again, over and over until the sun started peeking through the curtains. Taking your body apart inch by inch with every languid stroke of his thick cock hitting your cervix, to only put it together again when he cleaned you up after and dressing you in his shirt.

That’s how every night after the first went. No words were spoken during the aftermath, it was never discussed outside the four walls of the dingy motel rooms.

You had no problem being his release, allowing him to blow off steam, because that’s what you were doing. No matter how rough he got during or how soft he turned after, you knew it wasn’t something that could lead to anything.

Not right now anyway.

When the split happened, it was no question that you’d follow Steve. You didn’t even realise your body was silently answering the unasked question of loyalty until you took his hand and followed him out of the compound, Sam and Wanda in tow. Leaving the rest of your family behind without a single thought.

You’d watch an entire city burn if it meant keeping Steve in your life, you’d kill for him.

You had killed for him.

It wasn’t a love thing- well, it didn’t start off as a love thing. Steve had been in your life for 10 years and had been the one thing that remained, never leaving and never wavering. The bond you both shared was something you only read about, something the group had picked up on within five minutes of you first meeting the super solider. Tony expected you to pick Rogers, he saw it coming before he saw the split coming.

He was your soulmate, even if you didn’t know it yet.

“Peach,” his voice sounded strained, the snap of his hips becoming more frantic. He was close, you could tell. You felt as his calloused fingers tips ran down the column of your throat, down the valley of your breasts, along your stomach creating that swooping feeling in your stomach again and finding your sensitive nub, running through your puffy, slick folds.

“Steve,” you whined loudly, your head lolling to the side and finding his shoulder, exposing your throat to him.

The low growl that rumbled in his chest, making your body thrum at the feeling, was feral, animalistic. Just like his need for you. “You feel- fuck you feel incredible Peach, wrapped tightly around my cock, so fucking tight.” He gritted the last part through clenched teeth, his hips never relenting, their assault sending every nerve ending in your body into overdrive. His eyes catching your reflections in the mirror on top of the dresser, his free hand falling to your stomach. “I can feel myself, right here.” He husked into your ear, another loud whine from you. “Watch yourself Peach.” He demanded so calmly, like he wasn’t currently taking you apart with both his fingers and cock right now.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt yourself racing towards your high, the way his fingers expertly plucked, flicked and strummed your clit becoming too much.

Then, all of that was taken away from you. Steve’s hips stilling, leaving him pressed to hilt inside of you and his cock twitching. His fingers no longer strumming you.

Your eyes snapped opened within seconds and your head lifted itself to turn and look over your shoulder at the blonde, but before you could open your mouth to speak the fingers that were marked with your scent and juices gripped your chin, turning you to face the mirror. His eyes were blown with lust, just a small ring of blue remained, his upper lips snarling.

“Steve-”

“I gave you an order, Peach.” He snapped, pulling his hips back only to snap them forward, surging you forward only for his grip to tighten and bring you back flush against his chest. “What was that order?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but words fizzled on your tongue. Your eyes never leaving his in the reflection of the mirror.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve gone dumb on me now Peach. Too full of me to remember anything but my name?”

“St-Steve.” You whined out again, your skin feeling hot as you teetered on the edge of your release. You watched as the hands resting on your stomach moved lower, painfully slow. Your hips following his touch and arching forward.

“So responsive to me.” Thrust. “Like you were made for me, and only me.” Thrust. “You’re shaking Peach.” Another thrust, the scream that ripped through your throat had him smirking and smug. His nose trailing along your jaw line, his teeth nipping there shortly after. “My dumb baby.”

“Oh, fuck.” You breathed out, the peak beginning to rise again.

“You like that, Peach? Being called ‘baby’?” Only humming in response, he worked his fingers on your nub again, the heel of his palm pressing your stomach back into him as the speed of his hips increased.

He only ever called you baby when he was buried inside you, making your toes curl each time and a warmth to spread throughout your entire body. Peach had been a name he’d called you after discovering your love for the fruit. The amount of Sunday mornings you’d dragged him to the farmers market to get a fresh basket, that he’d end up carrying because you’d get distracted by the other stalls there. But baby was a new one, and it had such an effect on you, he always felt how you clenched around him when he called you it. It drove him crazy every time.

“Who knew you were a softie.” His voice remained its normal calm and authoritative demeanour, like he wasn’t currently fucking you senseless and turning you dumb, melting your brain. “Now, be a good fucking girl and watch me take you apart.”

Your eyes never left his, the hand gripping your chin moved down to wrap around your throat, applying slight pressure, not enough to hurt you completely but enough to dance along that fine line of pain and pleasure. His thumb reaching up and tapping your bottom lip and without word or demand you opened your mouth a little more and wrapped your lips around his thumb when he rested it against your tongue.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned out, his forehead resting against the side of your face, his eyes fluttering closed. “One more baby, that’s all I need.” He assured you sweetly, his fingers tapping your clit sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. “No,” he tsked when he felt you shake your head. “I know you can Peach, just one more, I know you want to.”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending sensitive to a slight breeze, your nipples so hard and sensitive they could cut glass.

“Now, fucking cum. Make everyone in this damn motel know who’s making you feel this good.” He gritted, his teeth scraping against your jawline, the grip on your throat tightening slightly. His hips quickening their pace, the headboard rattling against the wall behind you. One more pluck of your tingling bud had your body spasming, convulsing and going rigid under his hold.

“That’s it Peach, good girl.” He whispered, his lips finding your shoulder. “See how beautiful you look when you cum? It’s a fucking work of art.” Your entire body went numb, slumping against his rock-hard chest and being held there when both hands fell to your breasts, roughly squeezing them.

“St-Steve, I-I-”

“Sshh baby, I know.” The feeling of his hips stuttering signalled he wasn’t far behind you. “Fuckfuckfuck,” he punctuated with every thrust until his hips stilled and the most delicious sound fell from his lips, your actual name shortly followed as he rode himself through his own high.

A loud banging on the wall behind you brought you both back to reality, out of the post sex haze you’d both created. The scent of sex lingering in the air, bodies sticking to one another.

“Now you’re both freshly fucked, would you care to join us in jet?!” Sam’s voice boomed through the walls, your cheeks turning a deep crimson at the realisation he’d heard everything. “Hurry the fuck up!” He boomed again, followed by another loud and final bang on the wall before you both heard him laugh and then his own room door shut, indicating he’d headed down to the jet left hiding in the forrest behind the motel.

“Oh my god.” You squeaked, scrambling off the bed, ignoring the emptiness you felt when you withdrew from Steve and grabbing your clothes in a rush.

“Something wrong, Peach?” Steve drawled still on his knees on the bed, proudly displaying every inch of himself as he watched you scramble around his room, dressing yourself.

“Yes,” you squeaked again. “Not only have you pulled orgasm after orgasm until sunrise and my body is thoroughly wrecked, when we have an important mission. But Wilson has the biggest fucking mouth, so that means Wanda knows, not to mention everyone in his fucking contact list.” You huffed out, blowing hair that had fallen over your face out of the way.

“I didn’t hear you complaining. In fact, I believe you were begging me for more?” He smugly quipped back, now standing to his full height and dressing himself. “And Wilson will keep his mouth shut, if he knows what’s best for him.”

You didn’t expect the wave of hurt his words left on you, stilling your movements as you watched him continue to dress himself. Was he ashamed of you? Were you his secret? You knew Steve was a private person, especially when it came to his love life. But he trusted Sam and Wanda with his life, with you. You’d only ever spoken two words to them both when you first left with them, but he trusted them to keep you safe, and you them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?" You couldn’t stop the question from coming out, shocking yourself at how demanding your voice sounded.

Steve’s brows shot up, his ocean like eyes meeting yours, instantly intimidating you. “Exactly what I said.” Was all he said, but his tone had returned to its emotionless and authoritative tone, irking you.

“So, you fuck me in the dead of night but as soon as we step out of this room it's like it never happened?” You snapped, your hands falling to your hips, your blood starting to boil as the seconds went by.

“You got something to say, Peach? Please, don’t hold back on my account.” When you remained silent, he continued, shaking his head as he spoke. “You knew the arrangement-”

“What arrangement?! Steve, we fucked once after one too many whiskeys and I was happy to leave it at that, a way of blowing off steam in this shitty situation. But then you kept coming back. It’s like you conditioned me that way, like I’m waiting for my mouth salivate whenever I hear the click of my motel door opening.” Steve’s scoff was loud and obnoxious, your skin prickingly with irritation making you scrub your hand over your face. “You’re such a self-righteous prick. I chose to leave with you-”

“It was your choice, don’t put that on me.” He spat at you, crossing the room in a beat and coming chest to chest with you. “I didn’t force you to leave with me.”

“Just like you didn’t force me to fall in love with you!?” Your chest was now heaving, your cheeks completely flushed and your fists balling at your sides. The air in the room suddenly becoming thick and suffocating, the realisation and heaviness of words settling in. You watched as the colour from Steve’s face drained, his eyes going wide for only a second before he regained his composure.

You hadn’t realised it until this very moment, like it had been lying dormant inside of you until now. Suddenly, everything made sense. Too blinded by your friendship and the platonic bond you shared to realise you had fallen so far, so deep that he was practically imprinted on you.

Always convincing yourself your bond was purely platonic and nothing more, just two people who were meant to be in each other's lives. And maybe it had been just that to begin with, but somewhere between going on the run, giving up your entire life for him and becoming familiar with each other's bodies, lost in each other’s touch.

You fell in love with him.

He pulled you in, feeding off of your dedication to him.

The realisation winded you, knocking the breath out of you as you stood chest to chest. “Peach,” his voice was softer now, just above a whisper as his hand reached up to cup your cheek. But you backed away from his touch, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else than here. It wasn’t until your back hit the door, the knob of the door digging into your lower back, that you stopped moving.

“I may have chosen this part of my life.” You finally spoke after a few minutes of thick silence, your throat bobbing up and down slowly. “But you, you didn’t consider what it would do to me. Knowing I would leave with you, before I’d even made that decision. I-I put my life on the line for you, we all did.” Even though your voice sounded calm, Steve noticed how your eyes started to well up. “I let you in. I became addicted to your touch, your presence, God- even your smell! Everything about you invited me in! I would watch an entire city burn for you, and you can’t even look in my direction when we step out of this room.” You scoffed, your eyes down casting to the floor.

His name fell from your lips, it sounded so foreign to you. Already missing how he called you Peach. His own lip trembling as he took one small step towards you, but stopped when you flinched and reached for the door knob. “I didn’t know-” He tried assure you.

“Of course, you didn’t. Why would you? You had me where you needed me, under your thumb. Ready and awaiting instruction, Captain.” With a two-finger salute you turned your back on him and twisted the knob, the sunrise beaming through the smallest crack of the open door. “I’ll see you on the jet.”

“Mornin’.” Sam beamed at you as you walked up the ramp of the jet, your bag on your shoulders and your arms wrapped around yourself. His frown fell when you walked past him and found a corner of the jet to sit and sulk in, dropping your bag at your feet and tucking your knees against your chest, resting your forehead against them. “Everything alright?”

“Peachy.” You mumbled, never lifting your head.

“Sam, the jet ready?” Came Steve’s deep voice, cool and calm. His thudding footsteps drawing closer to you, a flicker of hope lit up inside you, hoping he’d come over to fix it or to talk. But that light died as quickly as it came when he walked straight past you, his shadow flying past you.

“Yeah,” Sam cautiously answered, his eyes flicking between you and the blonde super solider, Steve’s jaw set and shoulders hunched. “Wanda’s just doing a check over-”

“Now.” He boomed, sitting in the pilot’s seat with a thud, wordlessly dismissing Sam.

“What’s got you all doom and gloom?” Came Wanda’s sweet voice, her accent still thick and demeanour soft. Her touch fell to your shoulder, her thumb stroking it slowly.

“Nothing Wanda, I’m fine.”

“You know I can read minds, right?” Her tone now playful, giving your shoulder a small nudge.

“Then why ask?” Finally lifting your head for the first time in an hour, your eyes looked tired, mouth dry and limbs stiff from sitting in the same position.

“Because, everyone needs a friend once in a while.” She chirped at you, blinking as she watched you stand and stretch all your limbs, twisting your neck so it would crack before rolling your shoulders.

“Wanda, we’re not friends. We’re just two people who shared the same opinion.” You snapped, watching her face fall and instantly regretting it. The red head stood, smoothing over her shirt before nodding. Her expression turning cold. “Wanda-”

“Understood.” Looking past you she stepped around you and moved to sit beside Steve in the cockpit.

“Great.” You muttered under your breath, rubbing your temple with your middle finger and thumb, groaning in frustration.

You didn’t mean to snap at Wanda, it wasn’t her that you were angry at. It was Steve. Wanda had been a good friend to you over the past year, rooming with her in the motel rooms was something that helped knock down the walls of protection you both had built. The first few nights were spent in silence, both just lying in your separate beds and staring up at the ceiling.

Then, one night, you’d caught her watching Family Guy on the TV in a different language, her brows knitted together in frustration when she couldn’t figure out how to return it back to English. After showing her how to fix it you spent the night talking, before this point you didn’t think much of the red head, just knowing that Steve and the team brought her back after the battle with Ultron, asking you to wipe her records and accept her as one of their own. Clint spoke about the twins fondly, you remembered how he would always have a glint of something in his eyes every time.

“With the night you had last night, you shouldn’t be as irritable as you are.” Sam teased, holding out a bottle of water to you.

Taking the bottle from him you silently maintained eye contact, your eyes never leaving his as you took a sip. But he didn’t waver or back away, signalling he wasn’t giving up. You knew Sam was a talker, always trying to help people with their problems. Hell, he jumped on Steve’s side and helped him search for a Hydra Assassin who used to be his best friend without question.

Loyal. That’s how you would describe Sam Wilson.

Sam had come to like you over the past couple of months, you could take a joke, sometimes even joining in. You put Steve in his place when he got too demanding with the group and you took him and Wanda in as if you’d known them for years, without question. Sure, you were quiet and distant unless Steve was around, that’s when you came alive. But Sam figured it was because of how comfortable you were around one another.

“What do you want, Wilson?” You finally asked, twisting the cap back onto the bottle.

“Wanna talk about what happened?”

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’ you turned on your heels, grabbing your bag.

“Does he know?” His question had you stilling, your face falling and your heartrate increasing. “I’m taking your silence as a yes and that you didn’t get the answer you were hoping for.” When you didn’t move still, he exhaled through his nostrils. “Just because you don’t move doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”

Finally turning to face him you hold his gaze for long before it wandered around the jet, nervously shuffling on your feet.

“It’s so obvious, to anyone who’s watching that is. I’ve known for a couple of weeks- you're not the quietest of couple-”

“We’re not a couple.” You snapped in defence, your glance casting over your shoulder to find Steve still sat in the pilot seat, listening to Wanda talk about strategies. “Definitely not a couple.” You said quieter this time, knowing Steve would’ve been able to her every word of this conversation.

“Listen,” he started as you turned back to face him. “He’s got a lot on his mind, he’s constantly worrying about Bucky, and finding him. Not to mention he probably misses' home, feels guilty that we’re all here with him, that it had to come to this. Not to mention, he probably misses Tony.” The last sentence made a whisper of a smile appear across your lips, making him beam with pride. “But we won’t tell him that.” His hand fell to your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Just give him time to process, maybe another chance.”

With that Sam left you alone with your thoughts, turning to face Steve and Wanda your breath hitched when you saw him staring right back at you, his blue eyes looking worried? The unfamiliar expression had you frowning in confusion, but before you could blink his back was to you again and he continued his conversation with Wanda as if he hadn’t stopped.

You blinked at his back, unsure of what had just happened. You felt stupid, stood in the middle of the jet, staring at your best friend of 10 years, who you’d been sleeping with for the past 4 months and who you’d just admitted your feelings to. It all felt very, high school to you. But that didn’t stop your heart from hurting whenever you remembered the look on his face back in the motel, or how your heart still swelled whenever he looked your way after.

You were fucked.

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since you and Steve had spoken, you’d followed Sam’s advice, giving him time and space, but you were becoming frustrated with the new dynamic. Normally attached at the hip, it took great strengths to separate the pair of you from one another, and the distance was starting to get to you. It was like an addiction. Steve was your heroin and you found yourself craving everything about him. At night you laid awake waiting for him to come through the door of the new dingy motel and thoroughly ruin you.

You missed his voice and out of stubbornness you’d learnt to tune him out when he spoke. But when alone you found yourself craving to hear him speak, missing the way he called you Peach or even calling you by your actual name, anything at this point for him to acknowledge you.

You’d apologised to Wanda straight away, hating that you upset her. It took you admitting that you’d never had a female friend before, other than Natasha, for her to understand. But Wanda wasn’t that angry with you, she knew how you worked and how you didn’t talk much about feelings with anyone else apart from Steve. She could see how the distance between you both was affecting you, noticing how you would watch him from your corner of the jet, your eyes hopeful whenever he walked in your direction, only for them to fall when he walked past you.

She’d tried to talk to him about it, causally bringing it up, but she was met with a stern look. Steve had been giving those out like they were candies recently, like he had a permanent stick up his ass. It was driving Sam and Wanda up the wall, especially when they noticed how his eyes would soften for a brief second when you fell into his eyeline.

His mood seemed to shift when Bucky came onto the scene, finally tracking him down. You and Wanda had been the ones to find him, tracking him down to a rundown apartment building. You’d have laughed at the comical moment when he came out of his bedroom, baseball bat and dressed in boxers when he heard you and Wanda breaking in. If the situation wasn’t as serious as it was. It took hours of convincing and ten missed calls from Steve but he finally agreed, something in the way you spoke about Steve, the conviction in your voice and the sparkle in your eyes whenever you said his name convinced him.

You remember the way Steve’s eyes lit up when you finally showed up.

“Steve. Sam.” Wanda called softly, climbing the ramp of the jet, you and Bucky hot on her trail.

His quick and heavy footsteps were the only thing you could focus on, was he running? Then they stopped when he reached the edge, making you stop midway on the ramp. “You’re back.” You didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at the sight of you. You couldn’t stop yourself from wincing when you saw his phone gripped tightly in his right hand, remembering the missed calls.

It was like no one else existed in this moment, like the entire world had disappeared as he stared down at you. Like the last week didn’t matter anymore. Your heart beating erratically at the thought and your body aching for his touch, to feel his arms wrap around your waist again.

He took one large step forward, his mouth opening like he had something to say. But that died on on his tongue when another body crashed into you, not noticing that you’d stopped in the middle of the ramp. “Sorry,” he mumbled, clutching to the bag on his shoulders tighter.

“Bucky?” The light in his eyes that you hoped was for you diverted onto his best friend, a wide grin starting to spread. “Holy shit.” He mumbled, now storming down the ramp and straight past you to take his best friend in his arms, holding him tightly. That ache in your chest only increased when he wrapped an arm around the brunette, guiding him onto the jet and forgetting about you.

It was a Friday night and the small team had decided to celebrate a successful day of taking down another Hydra base and fighting off the government. It had been a close call for Wanda, but it didn’t take much for her knock them on their asses with a simple flick of her fingers.

Another dingy motel room, but this time you all shared one room, the victory bringing you together almost. You all sat in a circle on the floor, except Wanda who was lying on her front on the bed behind you, her chin resting on your shoulder.

The air in the room was light, the lightest it’d been for a long time.

Things felt normal. Just a group of friends blowing off steam after a hard work week.

Your eyes would catch Steve every so often, linger for a couple of seconds before flitting around the group to not arouse suspicion, Sam being the only one to notice. Making you roll your eyes whenever he raised his brows and smirked behind his beer bottle at you.

“Haven’t seen Steve this relaxed in a long time.” Wanda muttered to you, as you played with the ends of her auburn hair. She was right, he seemed... content. He was making a conscious effort to get involved with the group, but you suspected that had something to do with Bucky and Sam pressuring him to do so.

Your hum in response was soft, your eyes still trained on the super solider as he laughed at something Bucky had said. That familiar warmth spreading through your chest at the sight, the sound was like hearing a song from your past for the first time in years, filling you with happiness at the memories of hearing him laugh whenever you made a bad joke, or the time you used his shield as a helmet to cheer him up. “Yeah,” you mumbled back “it’s nice.”

“Has he spoken to you since-”

“No.” You coldly cut her off, taking a long swig of your beer. You didn’t want to still be affected by your last conversation with Steve, but the way his face fell when you told him how you felt was forever burnt into your retinas. “I need some air.” You stood from your seat on the floor, ignoring everyone's eyes suddenly on you. Swaying slightly from the five beers you’d downed since sitting down.

Like he was tuned into your every move, Steve was on you before you regained balance. “Woah, Peach, you alright?”

“I just need some air.” You muttered, shaking your head slightly to settle your vision.

“You sure?” Warmth spreading from his hold on your shoulders, steadying you. A shiver running down your spine at the rasp in his voice.

“With all due respect, Captain.” Snatching yourself out of his grip, your upper lip snarling. “That isn’t your problem anymore.”

“Peach-” Steve softly called after you when you shoved past him and headed toward the door.

“Give her a minute.” Wanda chimed in, now sitting cross legged on the bed, her bottle resting between her legs.

The cold, autumn air hit you, knocking the wind out of you. You stumbled into the railing, resting your elbows on it as you leaned forward, your eyes looking over at the horizon, the orange sun casting a warm glow on your skin.

Golden hour. Your favourite time of day.

Memories of sitting on the field of the compound with Steve in summer, your kindle in one hand, his hand holding your other as he mindlessly played with your fingers. The picnic you both made long forgotten as you would read to him.

You missed him.

You missed home.

“Golden hour.” The new voice interrupted your memory, making your eyes flutter open. “The only time the world looks peaceful.”

“Something like that,” you whispered back.

You hadn’t spoken to Bucky much since he’d come back with you, he’d been too busy with Steve. But you figured he wasn’t one for talking, like you. Preferring the silence, comfortable in it. Something about him gave you a comfort vibe, maybe it was the way his stare intimidated many, but his eyes gave away how vulnerable he was. Or how soft his voice was whenever he spoke, a striking contrast to how closed off he was.

“You doin’ alright?” He asked, shuffling closer to you and offering you his jacket when he noticed you shivering from the dusk air.

“Yeah,” waving him off and wrapping your arms around yourself. “Just been a long time since we all sat and chatted like that.”

“I get that, it’s been a long time for me to.” He mumbled, placing the jacket around your shoulders anyway. “Being around more than one person can sometimes be intimidating when you’re used to your own company. But everyone’s nice, Wanda can be weird and intense at times. But that isn’t a bad thing.” He shrugged, playing with the label of his beer bottle.

“Wanda’s been through a lot. She means well.” You defended, turning to look at him for the first time since he came outside. “I bet even Steve is different to you now.” You tried to ignore the way your heartrate increased at the mention of his name.

“Nah, he’s still the same old punk he was back then, just beefier and taller.” You both shared a quiet laugh, the birds chirping nearby the only noise between you both. “He cares about you, you know.”

An exasperated laugh fell past your lips, turning to face the horizon again. Not wanting to continue this conversation. Trying to ignore the burning feeling in your throat.

“I know. It’s none of my business, and if I’m overstepping my mark then please, tell me.”

“You’re overstepping, Barnes.” You warned him with a small smile.

“I’m gonna tell you anyway.” He teased, bumping his arm against yours.

“Of course, you are. You know, you’re as stubborn as he is.”

“Thanks.” He beamed down at you, like you’d just paid him the biggest compliment even if it wasn’t intended that way. “Sam told me what happened.”

“Wilson.” You grumbled, your jaw setting and eyes closing in frustration.

“I think you should speak to him, maybe-”

“Why?” You snapped, ignoring the taken aback look stretched across his features. “I said what I needed to say, made my feelings clear. Sam told me to give him time, I’ve done that.” A dry laugh escaped as you twisted your body to look at Bucky. “Tell me Barnes, have you ever had someone treat you like you’re the only person in existence one moment, worship your entire body, condition you to crave everything about them. Then,” the snap of your fingers made him blink in shock. “Act like you’re nothing to them the next?” His silence almost deafening to you, he watched with bated breath as you shook your head. “He fucked with my head, and I’m done.” With your final words lingering in the air, leaving the atmosphere thick and heavy. You spin on your heels and make your way back to the jet, deciding that spending the night on the uncomfortable benches would be better than having to face Steve again.

The feeling of someone else's touch on you startles you awake, your arms going straight into defence mode and fighting off whoever it was.

“Hey, shh, shh. It’s me, Peach. It’s me. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” The deep raspy voice of Steve settled your rapidly beating heartbeat instantly, your eyes fluttering open to find him crouched before you and still dressed in his old and grey tattered sweats, and a plain white top. Whisps of his blonde hair falling out of place and over his forehead, your fingers twitched to comb it back into place.

“Peach, baby,” his eyes softening and wide when he felt how cold you were, your body shivering. You ignored the way your heart swelled at the sound of him calling you baby. “You’re freezing, here.” He mumbled, throwing the hoodie he had resting in the crook of his arm over your body.

Not giving you chance to protest he scooped you up into his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist, and made his way out of the jet and back towards the motel. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold, craving the warmth that he radiated. His smell settling you and letting your eyes flutter shut again, your body exhausted and stiff from the uncomfortable sleep you’d just had.

“Wh-what’re you doing?” You mumbled against his neck with your arms tightly wrapped around it. Your teeth chattering as you spoke, making Steve hold you tight to his body.

“Taking you to bed.” He stated matter-of-factly, reaching a motel room door you thought was the one you stomped out of hours earlier. “You can’t, I won’t allow you to sleep in that jet.” With ease he plucked the room key out of his jean pocket and unlocked the door, kicking it open softly and walking in, making sure to kick it closed behind him.

The room was dark, with only one bed in the middle. You may have had five beers before but you certainly remember there being two double beds and a sofa bed, you remember Sam and Bucky fighting over who got the sofa bed for the night. You also remember Wanda chaperoning a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors for it. Bucky winning best out of three.

“Where is everyone?” Your question came out as more of a mumble when you spoke, currently fighting off the sleep that was taking over your body.

“In the other room baby, I got a separate room for us- you.” It almost pained him to stop himself, his heart lurching out of his chest knowing he didn’t have the right make that claim anymore. He’d been subtly calling you baby, hoping you’d notice and you had. Your heart fluttering every time he threw it into the conversation. Like he’d been calling you it forever.

It wasn’t until he placed you on the bed carefully, watching how you curled in on yourself, making yourself small. That he realised how much he’d fucked up, how hurt you were, how exhausted you seemed. He knew you’d been punishing yourself silently for how he reacted, blaming yourself for ruining your... situation.

But he couldn’t blame you, it was all him. It all happened so quickly, it went from you both being on cloud fucking nine after pulling multiple orgasms from your body to you both chest to chest as you held back tears, admitting your love for him. It gave him whiplash.

It’s not like Steve didn’t feel anything for you. He just didn’t know if it was love that he felt. You’d been his best friend, his other half for 10 years. Sure, the lines had begun to blur over the past few months as you explored uncharted waters with your friendship. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love you, it's all he could think about.

It consumed him.

Enamoured him.

It was the reason he started coming to you all those months ago. Why he kept coming back every night, why he took his time taking you apart, why he started to stay after. He never wanted it to end, his heart sinking whenever the sun would creep in through the thin curtains. He wanted you like this every day, in nothing but his shirt, ready and waiting for him. You were his. You belonged to him. And he you.

Before all of this he never questioned your friendship, if there was something more below the surface. Sure, Tony would tease him relentlessly claiming there was. Nat to. But he ignored them, thinking it was just his friend's poking fun at him. “Dude, you’re pussy whipped and you’re not even getting any.” Tony would say, Steve used to recoil at his crass way of words, but the more he thought about it, the more he agreed. “Please.” Nat would always start with when Steve would dismiss their ridiculous ideas of something more between you two, snorting as she smirked. “She’s your little shadow, it’s cute. I’ve known you for a long time Rogers, the longest relationship you’ve had since your little Peach came onto the scene was about a month-” and Tony would always chirp in with, “and that’s because your darling Peach didn’t like her!”

But Steve learnt to ignore their comments, he’d always leave them to come and find you. Finding you always in the lab with Bruce or the library that barley anyone used. Your presence would calm him whenever they riled him up.

He gravitated towards you, always.

If Tony saw him now, he’d laugh and make a snarky comment about always being right.

He missed them, he longed to pick up the burner phone and ring his old friend. He knew missed them to and that was his fault. You being here, was his fault. He took you away from your friends.

That day when you and Wanda went missing for hours, he had fears that you’d gone back to them, knowing you hadn’t spoken in a week and how much you were beating yourself up, how much you missed him. He knew because he missed you to. His mind starting to race with thoughts of you back at compound, settling back into your life with everyone but him, like he never existed. He noticed Sam smirk to himself as he paced the jet, pulling at the ends of his blonde locks. But he chose to ignore his friend, like you chose to ignore his calls. Why were you ignoring him? You knew if he rang, it was an emergency.

He’d never been so relieved to hear Wanda’s voice, he remembers his heart hammering against his ribs, blood rushing to his ears as he scrambled to the ramp. He needed to see you, needed to know that you’d returned. That you hadn’t left him. When he saw you all felt right in the world again, especially when he heard your breath hitch, the way he heard your pulse quicken at the sight of the disbelieved man before you proved you still cared. You still loved him.

Then he saw Bucky. It was like his two worlds were finally colliding. You’d brought his best friend back to him. That’s where you were. You hadn't left him. You were helping him.

Even after what he’d put you through.

It was Bucky who said it first, Sam has been quiet to do so. Wanting him to get there on his own. But during one of their morning runs, that Bucky had now become a part of, his statement blurted between the three men left a heavy feeling of tension between them.

“You fucking her?” The bluntness of his tone made the other two stop, Sam looking between them both, his hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath. The question had been burning on the tip of his tongue ever since he stepped foot on the jet. “Because it sure looks that way.” The brunette continued before Steve could open his mouth to protest. “I’ve seen the way you look at one another when you think the other isn’t paying attention.”

That caught Steve’s attention. You looked at him? One glance in Sam’s direction confirmed his unspoken question, a quiet nod his only answer.

“The day they found me, the way she spoke about you-”

“She spoke about me?” It was the first thing Steve had said all morning and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He hadn’t been able to sleep, like most nights without by his side. Missing how your soft snores would lull him to sleep.

“You were all she spoke about.” Was all Bucky said on the matter, turning to continue on their jog leaving Steve stood there as he blinked in shock at his best friend’s admission.

“St-Steve,” your soft voice pulled him from his reverie, your fingers gently wrapping around his wrist, holding him place. His breath stuck in his throat as he watched your eyes flutter open, your lips parted slightly. “Don’t leave me.” You couldn’t stop the words from leaving you, the quiet plea barley echoed around the room and you thought he hadn’t heard you as he stood over you, his eyes flitting between your grip on his wrist and your lips.

Only when you went to let go did he respond. Within seconds climbing over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, his large arms wrapping around your middle tightly, his face nestled in the crook of your neck. Breathing you in, inhaling your smell. Legs tangled together.

Both finally feeling at peace.

Steve didn’t know what this meant for you both or what was going to happen. No more words were spoken that night. None were needed because as you both held each other, breathing in tune with other, every inch of each other touching.

He had you back, and you him.

For the first time since coming out of the ice, he felt at peace. You were his world now. His heart beat for you.

Your name forever seared into his heart.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans angst #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #cevans #cevansedit #evansedit

4K notes · View notes

coltrainbat · 1 year

Note

Imagine

Chris loves the feeling of sleeping on ur boobs

https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0580/0837/1362/articles/70_ff3f59ef-5c8a-48fc-a4b1-4435c34c0f82.png?v=1636438945 thats how i imagine then, honestly idk The size

And I wanna say that I love your writing and that I’m proud of you<3

Favourite Pillows

A/N: Aww I’m proud of you too. Wait can I get more little messages after requests its so cute.

The Pic:

You were propped up in bed, Dodger at your side, glasses sitting lazily on the end of your nose reading your book. Covers pulled up to your chin, warm and snuggly in the sheets. It was almost 11 and Chris still hadn’t come home.

They were shooting night scenes and while you appreciated that were filming in Boston so he could come home after work for once, this was a late one even for him.

You heard the front door being opened and closed slowly, the sound of soft steps coming up the stairs. Dodger stirred slightly but then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the effort and went back to his slumber on your lap.

Chris appeared in the doorway, peaking his head in,

“I thought you would have been asleep by now.”

You placed your book out flat in front of you, looking up at him through your glasses

“Can’t sleep without you.”

“I’m coming.” He slipped off his shoes and undid his pants, stripping down to his boxer briefs.

He whistled while he took off his clothes “Dodger. Bed.” With that the pup, lazily made his way back onto the floor and towards his mat near the door.

“More room for me now.” Chris smirked at you.

You put your book on the bedside table and opened the sheets that covered your body. Your thick thighs revealed a small triangular window of your hot pink lace panties. His eyes trailed up to the tight grey cotton tank top, which while stretchy and comfortable looked like a size too small as it hugged your chest tightly, exposing your prominent nipples and large mounds.

“Now this is why I like when we film in Boston.” He crawled towards you on the bed, getting himself comfortable as he kissed you before placing his head down on your tits, his favourite pillow, his warm large body swallowed you up as he distributed his weight on top of you, tangling his legs in yours.

With a sigh he lay his head down softly on your chest.

“Big day?” You enquired.

“I am exhausted and been thinking of this all day.” His voice muffled as he sunk into your cleavage. Being fully supported by the soft, fleshy melons. His beard tickled the skin of your boobs, as he nuzzled in between them, inhaling the scent of your coconut body oil and various other shower products.

You giggled slightly as you ran your hands through his hair, he let out a content moan as he enjoyed the motion of your hands gliding through across his head, slightly scratching his scalp.

In no time at all you heard soft snores fall from his lips. As always, he had fallen asleep in his favourite position. You turned off the light next to you and slowly shimmied down the pillows to lay comfortably, careful not to stir the sleepy boy.

#chris evans #chris evans imagines #chris evans one shot #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x curvy reader #chris evans x curvy!reader #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans x plussize!reader #chris evans x y/n #christopher robert evans #CEvans #cevansedit #chris evans x female reader

1K notes · View notes

satellite-evans · 1 year

Text

Chris Evans loving on his pregnant wife for 20 minutes straight

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Summary: a fan made a video about your husband not being able to keep himself from talking about you and your unborn child at all times.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Fluff. Like y’all know you can’t expect anything else from me at this point

A/N: I would like to say before y'all come to me and say 'my omg you copied @astranva how could you' I didn't. Nova herself is cool with it and I'm just sick of you guys always putting us against each other. We are both fluff writers for the same white dude. Similarities are going to happen. So please, don't attack me, and don't full nova's inbox with bullshit. Thank you. <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Chris Evans is a well-known name in Hollywood. Not only for his looks, his iconic role as Captain America, and his famous left boob grab, but the way he kept talking about you in all his interviews.

There was no denying that he was obsessed with you and even more since you carried his child. This obsession was even noticed by fans that they couldn't help but make a video about their favorite Marvel star.

Chris Evans loving on his pregnant wife for 20 minutes straight.

The trending internet video started with a clip of Chris in his famous white suit standing in front of the cameras at the knives out the premiere.

While everyone was screaming at him and trying to get his attention, his eyes were only locked on you, mesmerized by your beauty and making sure you were okay, that the baby was fine.

"Hey Chris, how are you? Good to see you." The voice of the extratv journalist was heard while she was shaking his hand.

"What was it like to be a part of it and work with the cast?" Her first question came immediately after the introduction and made Chris think for a few seconds.

" Uh, I-It was uh, very humbling, y'know a-a lot very talented people who've had uh very long career in this industry so, a lot to learn."

Just when the interviewer was going to shoot him with another question, Chris showed he was clearly not done with his answer.

"Also, also I would like to say that it meant a lot to my wife, Y/N, too." He pointed towards you, where you were standing next to his publicist, trying not to take his thunder away tonight with your very pregnant belly.

"Oh yeah, Y/N is also here tonight! Let's let her join in this interview too!"

Chris then waved the woman off "No, that's okay. She doesn't like this type of thing and I want to respect that. But yeah, she is the reason I accepted this-the job. She is, y'know- my wife is very into detective work and solving crimes so when the opportunity came I just-I had to take it to make her happy."

The next clip showed Chris yet with another interviewer, but this time he was sitting in front of her with Ana de Armas next to him.

"So first, I wanted to say congratulations to Chris. You and your wife are expecting a baby."

In an instant, a smile grew on his face, and he got excited since the conversation was his favorite topic.

"That's right, yeah." He said, with a smirk on his face and his pink in his mouth.

"So how does that feel, becoming a dad after waiting all those years?"

He answered the question with such ease, " It is exciting, but also intimidating, in a way." He started, "Just like you said the need- I wanted to have a family for so long, you think I would've mentally prepared myself, but it is nothing like that. You're scared, you're nervous, you-you constantly thinking if you're going to be a great dad, y'know? All these questions come up and make you more anxious than you already are but, thankfully I have Y/N, she-"

"Omg, she is amazing," Ana interrupted him.

Chris nodded immediately, agreeing with her statement.

"So amazing. I mean, honestly, without her, I think I would be lost. She is the best wife, the best friend, and I know she is going to be the best mother for our child. I-I don't know what I would do without her."

"That's so cute. I'm so happy for you, Chris."

The next clip was him in Massachusetts, on a set of Defending Jacob posing in front of the cameras with a bunch of fans.

"Man, when are you growing your hair back, we loved it in infinity war!" A man said while recording the encounters between Chris and his fans. He smiled and looked towards the guy who said: " I'm sorry but, the wife doesn't like it, so it's not gonna happen. Whatever she wants."

With that, he waved at the fans for the last time before going back to his trailer. He almost missed the guy's response:

"Never thought Captain America was gonna be pussy-whipped!"

Without turning back, Chris shouted back to him : "Why are you saying like it's a bad thing!"

Another video was added of him at the tonight show starring Jimmy Fallon.

"Did you-where you sad when you had to do the end-last scene?" Jimmy asked him after they started talking about the success of Avengers Endgame.

"Yeah, it was very emotional. I mean, it's emotional. These movies are a huge part of your life. And so, when they come to an end, it really it has an impact. But thankfully, I had my wife by my side who supported me throughout everything and, y'know, was there when I needed that extra emotional support."

"Speaking of your wife, Y/N, congratulations buddy she is pregnant!"

The whole crowd started cheering and clapping, Including Jimmy himself, and Chris could only smile and nod, showing how proud he was.

"Yeah, she is. We're expecting a child together, which sounds so odd when I say it because my dream I had for years finally became a reality."

The whole audience was awed, making Chris swoon.

"I am so happy for you pal, I truly am. So how far along is she?"

He looked in the air, thinking and making sure he was giving the right answers.

"She is- tomorrow she will be 7 months pregnant, yeah. Again, I couldn't be more excited about the whole thing. She is incredible. I mean literally, words don't even describe how much she means to me. I love her so much and can't wait to meet our baby."

"That's incredible news, buddy."

The final clip of the video was a self-recorded video Chris made to wish one of his fans a happy birthday.

"Hey Josh, it's me, Chris Evans. So your friends told me you turned 21, and I just wanted to say, have a happy birthday buddy. You're finally at the age that you can drink, at least legally, so go out and have a drink and enjoy it with your friends as much as you can. I would've joined you guys, but y'know, the missus is pregnant and we don't want her to scream at us like a street cat, do we?"

The video also caught you screaming from behind.

"Hey, I heard that!"

"I was just joking honey, all good here!" Chris screamed back. " She just proved my point," he whispered "anyway, happy birthday buddy, thank you for all the love, and enjoy your day. I've gotta show some love to my wife. Don't want her to get too mad at me. See you later, pal."

The video was so loved that it got 10 million in just one day and received many comments from fans:

user1: plsss the way he looks at her, he's down BAD

user2: when is someone going to talk about me the way Chris is talking about his pregnant wife?? WHEN???

user3: I love how he randomly brings up y/n during any conversation lmao

user4: NOT THE STREET CAT LMAOOO

The video got so much love that it even caught the attention of the man himself, Chris Evans.

#cevans #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic rec #chris evans fluff #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x fem!reader #dad!chris evans #fluff #chris evans x you #evansedit #chris evans x wife!reader #chris evans x female reader

2K notes · View notes

chxrryhansen · 3 months

Note

ohmygod!! i know this isn’t even for a prompt but it got me thinking… clubowner!ari😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

imagine your at a club with your friends, one of the biggest in the city, your waiting at the bar to pay for a round of drinks, you go to hand your card over to the bartender.

“it’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, you look at him puzzled “is it a night special or something? i didn’t see anything about free drinks on the poster outside…” you begin yet he’s already scuttling off to take a couples orders.

you reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, you spin around in shock ready to fight off any unwanted men. you pause having to look up to catch the mans face.

his 6’5 form towers over your much smaller figure, dressed in a dark purple suit and tie, his pearly blues shining in the colourful lights looking down at you, his dark beard covering most of his face and his long curtains framing his godly sculpted face.

you shortly snap out of it as his leather gloved hand squeezes your arm “c-can i help you, sir?” you stammered.

he laughs “not even a thankyou, sweetheart? i thought you’d have better manners than that.” he teases, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. you stutter as you try to find your words, seeming as their lodged in the back of your throat.

“i’m kidding, name’s ari…you gonna’ give me the curtesy of knowing yours or you just gonna’ keep starin’ at me with those pretty eyes?”

“a-ari as in… levinson?” you question in awe, ari’s name was known around your streets, the most notorious club owner to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to him, more money under his belt than the government itself.

he shakes his head gently with a smirk “why don’t you come with me.” almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation.

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

#chxrrys rachael #chxrrys prompts #ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfic #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #cevans prompt

157 notes · View notes

boxofbonesfic · 24 days

Text

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,776

A/N: whew. okay. we’re back, we’re updating, and we’re getting back on track. i think the motivation behind the madness is becoming a little clearer. or at least, more clear. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, comments and especially reblogs are always appreciated. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

It’s your wedding day, again.

You remember the soft white satin of your dress like it was yesterday—only it’s today, isn’t it? How can something happen again if it hasn’t happened yet? You look down at your hands, where the lacy sleeves of your wedding dress loop gracefully around your thumbs—your nails are picked raw and bleeding. You look back up at the mirror, and your own distraught face stares back at you.

I don’t want to get married.

No, that isn’t right—this is a good day, a happy day, why don’t you want it anymore? There is knowledge that dances just out of touch as you stare fuzzily at the mirror in your bridal suite. Something is wrong, but you don’t remember what it is. The mirror fragments, each component folding away as the world tilts on it’s axis, wood flooring becoming red carpet strewn with rose petals.

You stand at the altar, the priest beaming at you.

You will take him won’t you? As husband, husband and wife—Ransom splits in two like a cell, and both of them hold your hands so tight the bones creak and hurt and—

“I love you, Princess, Sweetheart, Darling, Mine—” One voice, two mouths, one person, two bodies. You don’t realize they’re pulling until you tear, splitting right down the middle like you’re made of tissue paper. too. Pulling you to bloody pieces as they repeat oaths of husbandly devotion.

My wife.

MY WIFE.

You wake up in darkness, your heart pounding in your chest. It disorients you, and you blink, expecting the cloud to clear from your eyes but it doesn’t. Immediately your hand goes to your stomach, and your frantic heartbeat calms just a fraction as you rest a hand on the gentle swell. The thoughts in your head are still an anxious jumble. Ransom, Lloyd, the party—

God, the party.

Your stomach churns as you recall Lloyd’s cruel smile.

Tell him. Tell me what he says.

You clap a hand to your mouth as an anguished sob threatens to escape. Ransom, Lloyd… where had they taken you? You frantically feel your way to the edge of the bed, your feet slipping a little on the cool tile as you stand.

“H-hello?” You call out into the darkness, but there’s no response. Trembling, you begin taking short, halting steps forward, your hands outstretched. “P-please, someone—fuck!” You curse loudly as your foot catches the edge of something, a table, a chair, you can’t tell. “Answer me!”

No one does.

You wander forward blindly until you reach a wall, and, feeling along it, you feel plaster turn to glass. You gasp, frantically dragging your hands along the surface until feel something—a switch. You flick it up, and there’s a sound like whirring gears. The lights don’t come on, but something else happens instead: the blackout shades on the other side of the thick pane of glass begin to lift, light creeping in underneath the edge. It’s blinding at first, spots dancing in your eyes as you throw a hand up to shield them, but after a moment, they adjust.

You see… a beach.

An empty beach.

The clear blue water comes straight up to the window like an aquarium. There are no people on the pristine, white sand—no one to hear you as you frantically beat your palm against the glass. Frantically, you turn around to take stock of the room, grabbing for a nearby chair. You knock over the little coffee table in the sitting area next to you, but you don’t care. It takes all your strength to heft it above your head, screaming as you slam it into the glass—

But nothing happens. It connects with a dull thud, the treated wood splintering as it cracks. The window is unharmed, barely even scratched. An anguished wail tears from your chest as you throw everything within reach that you can lift, beating everything into splinters until you’re left panting and sobbing in the wreckage.

“Sweetheart you know that really isn’t good for the baby.” You whirl around frantically, grabbing for the leg of a chair you’d broken into kindling against the indestructible-fucking-window, brandishing it threateningly. You hadn’t even heard the sound of a door opening—in fact, as you stare, wide-eyed around the room, trying to pin down his point of entry, you can’t seem to find a door at all in the lavishly decorated suite.

“Fuck you!” You snarl at him, your lip curling. “Let—let me out of here!” Ransom clucks his tongue at you like you’re an errant child.

“You’re a smart girl, Love. You know I’m not going to do that.”

“You can’t fucking keep me in here—” Ransom shakes his head.

“I can, Sweetheart. And I’m going to. We’re going to.” He casts a disparaging look down at the ruined chairs and table by your feet. “Lloyd did tell me not to put the good stuff in first—I underestimated your temper.” The casual remark makes you want to swing your makeshift bat at his head. “He designed it for you, you know. I thought we could just lock you in the basement, but now that I see it, I think this is better.”

“You’re a monster.” You’re crying, hard, hysterical sobs that leave your throat raw and aching. He actually has the gall to look hurt by your insult, his face crumpling as his mouth presses into a thin, angry line.

“A monster that loves you. That would do anything to protect you—even from yourself.” Your body seizes with fear as he crosses the room in a few easy strides, gripping your shoulders with furious hands. You whine as he squeezes, pressing harder and harder until you drop the scrap of wood you’re holding. You don’t know this Ransom, this maniacal, cruel man wearing your husband’s face, your husband’s ring.

“Do you remember what it was like when we got together?” He asks. Ransom shakes you a little, like he’s trying to jog your memory. “Living at home with your parents, helping them with every single bill because you were terrified your sister was going to graduate high-school on the streets—”

“So what?” You spit back. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“I gave you everything.” For the first time you see the same possessive madness in his eyes you’d seen in Lloyd’s. “And you think you can just walk away? Take from me until you’ve gotten your fill? That’s not how this works, Sweetheart.” He releases you and you stumble away, clutching yourself. He straightens his shirt, smoothing back the errant hairs that have fallen into his face.

“We’re going to give you such a good life, Sweetheart. You just have to trust us.”

“I will never trust you again.” You growl the words at him like a threat. “I hate you.” And then, inexplicably, he’s your Ransom again, his blue eyes soft as he looks at you, like he knows something you haven’t yet come to accept. Like an adult admonishing a child for fears they’ll soon leave behind as they grow to accept the way things are—the way they always will be.

“You won’t always.” His eyes flick down to the destruction you’ve wrought, and he clucks his tongue. “Maybe I’ll talk to Lloyd about bringing in some new furniture for you, if you’re good.” Ransom’s handsome mouth curves up into an amused smile. “Maybe something a little heavier.” He kicks at a piece of the table, before making his way back over to the other side of the room. A door the same color as the wall opens at his touch.

“Lunch in an hour.”

—

True to his word Ransom returns with Lloyd in tow, a tray held in his large hands. You’d waited for this moment with a dark sort of anticipation, and for a brief moment, their stunned, angry expressions as the door panel slides open fill you with a sense of profound pride.

You’d done your level best to destroy everything that wasn’t nailed down, methodically and systematically taking apart everything you could get your hand on. Even the mattress lies ruined, feathers and wood splinters littering the torn cover. Though the mirror had refused to break—and indeed proved too heavy for you to lift—you feel a smug satisfaction in seeing what you had been able to accomplish with jagged pieces of plywood.

Fuck you.

Lloyd steps in first, squatting down to inspect a piece of the smashed coffee table.

“I told you we shouldn’t have put this stuff in here first. Empty room, Ransom. You always have to start with an empty room.” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles softly—affectionately. “Hi, Princess.”

“Go to hell, Lloyd.” Ransom steps fully into your room then, shutting the door gently behind him before setting the tray on the windowsill. He sighs.

“I know it was stupid to hope your attitude had improved in an hour, but stranger things have happened.” He glances back at the tray. “You should eat something, Love. It’s been four days of—” His words become a static drone as the panic begins to set in. Four days? I’ve been out for four days? The questions fill your head almost faster than you can process them. Where are you? Your parents, your sister? What happened?

“What is this? What is this fucking place?”

The pride in Ransom’s eyes makes you want to vomit. “We made it for you. Just for you. It took—how long, Lloyd?”

“A year, give or take.” He rubs his fingers along the growing stubble on his upper lip. “And then finding staff…” He pauses. “The hotel, or just the Room?” The way Lloyd says room makes it sound singular, important. You cannot help but gape at them

“You’re sick—both of you. Y-you—what you did to me—” You shake your head. “A-all of this.” You gesture at the room around you. “For what?” Lloyd threads his fingers together, and you can hear the soft metal click of his rings tapping against each other as he does.

“I know you’re not deaf, Princess. It’s for you.”

Cold trickles down your spine. You’ve been doing it ever since you woke up, running through each moment in the past four, five and cataloguing each one you couldn’t make make sense. You’re doing it again now, thumbing back through the index cards of your memories and finding empty slots. Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters—Ransom had told you it had been a year, but you can’t trust that, you can’t believe him, not after everything.

“My family won’t let you do this sick fucking shit, you know that.” You spit. “They’re not going to let you kidnap me—”

“How much is Nathalie’s school, Sweetheart?” Ransom asks, cocking his head. “Per year.”

“What?” The question throws you off, the freight train of words in your throat piling up messily on your tongue. “What are you—”

“How much is her tuition?” He repeats it slowly like you’re having trouble understanding him. You bare your teeth at Ransom as you grimace.

“I don’t know. She has a scholarship. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s $63,000.” Ransom gives you the figure so matter-of-factly it’s like he rehearsed it. “Per year.” Your stomach sinks, like your body knows before your head. “What, you didn’t know? No one ever reads the paperwork, do they, Lloyd?” He glances at his brother over his shoulder. “What’s it say on the checks? T. H. B. Inc., doesn’t it?” He licks his lips. “The T stands for Thrombey, Sweetheart.”

You almost want to laugh for the insanity of it all—you even try, but no sound escapes your tight, dry throat. Lloyd nods.

“Same as the ones your father gets. Funny how his company’s picked up these last few years, isn’t it?”

Your fists clench and unclench as you sit there on the floor, staring up at them. There’s nothing left to destroy, nothing left to break except the two of them—and you already know how that ends. Instead, you’re forced to sit there, hot rage coiling in your chest as the realization dawns cold and cutting—

Your family is already bought and paid for, even if they don’t know it.

“I never asked you for this.” You spit, nails biting into the meat of your palms as you press angry fists against the cool tile. “I didn’t ask you for fucking any of this!”

“I promised to make a home for you, didn’t I, Sweetheart?” He squats down in front of you, his hand out like he wants you to take it. “A good husband provides.” It isn’t supposed to feel like being cut into a thousand pieces to hear his wedding vows regurgitated like this. His gaze drops to the ring still on your finger. You hadn’t noticed it until he did, and as he watches, you rip it from your finger with a violent twist, and throw it at him. He actually looks upset at this, a hint of his earlier rage passing over his features like a cloud.

You hate the way it makes your gut wrench because you want him to fucking hurt. It’s like your body hasn’t realized yet just who he is—who they are, and it makes you even angrier. You turn away, loose nightgown bunching under your thighs as you turn to face the wall instead.

“Leave me alone.”

“Not until you eat something.” You aren’t sure if it’s Ransom that speaks, or Lloyd. You press your eyes shut and bite your lips to shutter the angry, frustrated wail that threatens to leap from your throat. “That’s not good for the baby.”

Good for the baby.

Good for the fucking baby.

You want to hate it now; the child growing inside of you, even if only to spite the men standing behind you. But you cannot bring yourself to—and you hate that too.

Shame is not a new feeling, not for you, but it feels new today as you pick apart the plain chicken salad sandwich they had brought for you. Assume it’s drugged. You hate yourself as you tear off chunks with stiff fingers, forcing your mouth open and swallowing it down with a grimace. Assume everything is drugged. When you’re finished, you drag the back of your hand across your mouth roughly, tossing the tray at Lloyd’s feet.

He doesn’t pick it up.

“Good girl.” You shiver. It’s involuntary, and you know he sees it, the way his mouth twitches with the urge to lift into the smug smile you know so well. “Your wish is our command, Princess.”

Ransom bends to pick up the ring wordlessly, and follows his brother out of your room.

—

They don’t come back that night.

You watch the sky outside the glass wall of your prison turn dark, and then brighten again with stars as you sit huddled against it, hugging your knees to your chest. You’re exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your body won’t let you, jerking you back to wakefulness as soon as your eyelids start to droop. The thoughts won’t stop coming either, cycling through on a loop you can’t seem to stop.

I wonder what Nat’s doing.

I wonder if they’re worried about me.

I wonder what Ransom told them.

You want to pinpoint the time your life went off the rails but you can’t, you don’t know it. College, perhaps?

When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

You drag yourself away from the window after a few hours of staring bleakly out at the empty beach. It feels like too much to hope for that someone would happen by, not with the lengths they had clearly taken to secure you. The comforter bleeds feathers as you drag it to the floor beside the bed, wedging yourself between it and the wall. You know you aren’t safe—you’ve little control over that—but the solid press of concrete behind you makes you feel more secure.

It’s what allows you to finally fall asleep, though it is not restful. It feels like you wake every few minutes at every imagined sound, jolting back to consciousness and scanning the still empty room before quickly passing out again. You half expect Lloyd and Ransom to be back, waiting for you to open your eyes but when you finally do, you are still blessedly alone, but for the fresh tray in front of the door.

You wait for a few minutes, just to see if they emerge from your peripheral vision, the places in the room you can’t see from your vantage point—but they don’t. Everything is as it was before, the destruction from your earlier rampage still strewn across the floor. It feels surreal. Slowly, you pick your way across the debris and grasp the tray in your trembling hands. You don’t want to eat it, not really, but your stomach clenches and rumbles at the sight of food as you peek beneath the tray cover.

It isn’t anything special—another sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. You check beneath the styrofoam plate just to be sure, there’s no note, no nothing, and you cannot help but wonder when they’ll be back. They’re messing with your head, you know they are—and you hate that it’s working. You’re rattled, upset, anxious—just how they want you.

The urge comes again to pick up the largest piece of anything you can find and smash it against the window until it breaks.

We made it for you.

Your stomach churns with disgust even as you take a greedy bite out of your sandwich. How hadn’t you seen yourself and your family waltzing right into the palms of their hands? How hadn’t you noticed? Lloyd had always been overly interested, overly gracious, even after you’d rejected him, and started dating his brother. You’re reminded of Linda’s curt smile and her slickly delivered barb. You tore them apart without even thinking about it. And Lloyd’s admission…

It was more than a little crush.

You don’t know how to reconcile the madness simmering behind your husbands eyes with the man who’d held your hands and said his vows. As he’d griped your wrists, staring into your eyes with his own fever-bright, you could barely recognize him.

You clean your plate, washing it down with the water before casting another look around the room. It’s blank, empty beyond the few pieces of furniture you hadn’t been able to destroy. No books, no television—nothing. You search the walls near the door panel, looking for something, anything that might make it open, but you find little. The smooth white keyboard does not respond when you push your thumb against the rubbery buttons, and the seam is so narrow you can barely wedge your fingernails into it to try and pry it open.

For hours you walk the perimeter of the room, running your hands along the walls, feeling no breaks in the smooth, cool surface. You have to get out of here—but you don’t even know where here is. How far you are from the resort, if you’re even on the same island. As the room darkens, you realize you’ve been pacing for hours like a caged animal, and neither Ransom nor Lloyd has come to check on you all day. Somehow, the thought fill you with apprehension. Not knowing when they might appear is unnerving, and you suspect they mean it to be.

You thread your fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you watch the sun sink into the sea, a panicked, claustrophobic feeling rising in your chest until you realize you aren’t breathing. You can’t stay here like this, you can’t—

Before you realize it you’re running for the door, beating your fists wildly against the panel.

“Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here!” Your frenzied wailing rings in your own ears. It’s like you’re numb to the pain as you swing with all your might. You’re aware-even if only dimly—of the fact that your fists will be sore and aching later, bruised and beat to a pulp but you don’t care. Not if it gets you out—not if it gets you away from them.

“Ransom! Ransom let me out! You can’t fucking keep me here! You can’t!”

Nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge, and there is no answer to your increasingly panicked demands. You scream for hours. Until you’re hoarse, and your trembling fists ache to raise above your shoulders. Still, you bang your open palms against the panel as your firm insistence becomes a stream of nonsense pleas.

“Please, please don’t do this, if you l-loved me y-you wouldn’t do this!” Tears and snot run down your face as you collapse to your knees, exhausted. “Please.” You mumble, curling in on yourself in front of the door. The tears come again, and you don’t even try to stop them, sobbing open-mouthed on the cold tile, your hands fisting in your nightgown.

“Please.”

You lay there until the room goes dark.

—

“I hate seeing her like this.” The cameras are good—too good. He can see the pain on your face too clearly, hear the betrayal in your voice just a bit too well through the speakers.

“You think I like it?” Lloyd asks irritatedly, and Ransom sighs. “She’ll even out soon. If not, you can up the mood stabilizer. She’s cleared for it until the second trimester.” Ransom knows his brother, knows that’s his version of comforting reassurance. “Besides, you’re the one that decided to play keep-away.”

Ransom looks at the camera again, at your softly moving shoulders. He’s both thankful and irritated at the hair covering your pretty face—but at least it blocks the sight of your tears. As he watches, you shudder—like you’re still crying, even in your sleep.

“I know. We have to make her grateful. For us.” He says, still looking at the screen. And he does. He understands the necessity of it—it was his plan, almost more than Lloyd’s. “I still hate it.”

“I don’t anticipate she’ll keep it up more than a week. Two, tops.” For the most part, Ransom has seldom ever found himself envious of his twin, but now he felt his lip curl with irritated jealousy at Lloyd’s confidence. “Don’t worry little brother,” he grins. “Our Princess will love us again.” He turns back to the cameras. “I’m sure of it.”

To be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

226 notes · View notes

lilacevans · 1 day

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧': 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

✧.* : ̗̀➛ dark!ari levinson x female!reader (non-descriptive)

✧.* : ̗̀➛ word count: 375.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ warnings: breeding, dirty talk, usual filthy ari

✧.* : ̗̀➛ requested by: anonymous

✧.* : ̗̀➛ notes: wakey wakey besties, new drabble just dropped!!!!! hiiiii!!!! how ya been!! i've missed u all sm so i return with a little ari drabble <33 all of this was written on my phone so pls mind the mistakes and lemme know what u think!!!<3

*this is an 18+ space. minors are not welcome here. *this is a dark au. there are no happy endings here.

“You fuckin’ feel me, pup? Hmm? Feel me deep in this little cunt?” Ari rambled heatedly into your ear as his hips battered against the meat of your ass. Your frame bent underneath him, your breath moistened the sheet below you; pitiful moans and pleading whines were the only thing to fall past your spit slicked lips as your head swirled with everything Ari.

“S’matter? Can’t speak? Can’t think?” Ari teased before lifting a little to snake an arm around your neck, bicep hugging your throat while he continued to fervently fuck into you. You couldn’t help but meet his thrusts, arching your back to drive your hips together harder, deeper. “That’s it, ‘atta girl, fuck yourself back on my cock. Keep it goin’, baby. Gonna fill you to the brim, breed this tight pussy.”

A cock-drunk smile cracked across your lips hearing Ari’s lustful rants. One thing about Ari is that it was guaranteed that he’d lose all ability to keep his filthy thoughts to himself once inside you.

“Whining like a bitch in heat. You want it? You want me to breed you, hmm? Knock you up with a little pup, mmm? Send you to Curtis’ next for a fill, then your golden boy— your Stevie,” Ari spat his name like it was venom on his tongue as he drove his cock deeper into your aching cunt. “Then your Jakey… Although he prefers this little hole, doesn’t he?”

Ari’s thumb pressed against the tight ring, the pad of his thumb slick with his spit, or the leaking wetness spilling from around his cock.

“Finish you off with Pete and that awful, mean Lloyd, hmm? Make sure you have a whole litter. Nothin’ but a hole for us to fill— Fuck,” Ari cut off, strangled and twisted as you felt his hips stutter, your head dropping to the pillow below as he filled you and used his softening cock to fuck his cum deep inside you.

142 notes · View notes

misguidedasgardian · 2 years

Text

The dutiful

AU MASTERLIST

Summary: Your Mob Boss father´s last wish was for you to marry his right-hand and most trusted man, Lloyd Hansen, you fight against it, but at the end, you are the ever dutiful daughter. Now he is the boss, and has to assert his dominance over you, and over his men

Pairing: Mob!Lloyd Hansen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DARK, misogynistic behaviour, mob bussiness, age gap (Lloys is late thirties, reader is mid-twenties), death of a parent, dub-con, unprotected rough sex, (don’t be silly wrap your willy), voyeurism (some guys watch you being claimed), little fingering, degradation, mocking, cursing, pet names, breeding kink, marriage kink, slight cumplay and eating, might miss some warnings.

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4.1 k

Notes: Oh my I just love Lloyd, I mean look at thim, I could throw everything I believe in and all the feminism trough the window just to get on my knees between his murdr thighs…. I hope you enjoy this gift Lloyd Lovers…. I mean the movie is not even OUT yet, we only had seen a minute of content and I’m already drippingggggg

not beta-ed, mistakes are current and my own hihi

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHRISSSS

You looked through the window at the mournful scenery, the sky weeped as you did, now it was a dark gray, the trees surrounding your father's property seemed so scary now, under this cloudy sky. A deep green who seemed to hide the darkest secrets. Everything seemed so dark after your father passed away just two days ago. You felt so alone now, your mansion so big and lonely, and so scary

Your thoughts were interrupted when the door of your father’s office opened, revealing a man that only by seeing him made you feel incredibly relieved. You walked towards him with a shy smile, hugging yourself until you reached him

“Hey sweetheart, how are you doing?” Andrew Barber, your father's lawyer greeted you with sympathetic eyes and a shy smile, he kissed your forehead as you appreciate the gesture of a man you’d known since you could remember

“Hey Andy, thank you for coming” you hugged yourself again, behind him Lloyd Hansen entered your late father’s study, and it made you wince, that man scared in a primal way you’d never end to understand. His eyes always seemed to find you and a dark smile followed, his perfectly trimmed mustache moves with his thin lips

“Hey Sunshine” he greeted

“Hey Lloyd” you whispered, not daring to even look him in the eye.

Your father was the city’s most notorious Mobster, Gangster, drug dealer. It was the truth and it was so ingrained in your system you took it as a normal part of life. Half of his businesses were indeed legit, after years of money laundering. Lloyd Hansen was his right hand man, he knew everything about the business and before being his most trusted man he was the enforcer, the most violent and bloodthirsty amongst his men. Former special agent of the CIA turned, he was dangerous, skilled in combat and war, and now most likely the head of the family.

Your attention turned to Andy again, as he took a seat in your late father’s seat behind the desk of his study

You took a seat in front of the desk, Lloyd placed himself behind you, making a lightning strike run down your back making you incredibly uncomfortable. Andy draw papers from his briefcase and laid them on the mahogany desk, organizing them in a tidy manner

“I’m here as an executor of your father's last will and testament” he said firmly, his lawyer face taking over. You nodded, knowing perfectly well his intentions, and calmly you listened to the man. You were your father’s only child, and your mother passed away when you were young, to your knowledge, you were his only heir, but Lloyd had been called too, you guessed to pass all the dark business to him

“Me, (Y/F/N) being sound of mind and body, present my last wish and testament” he started, reading your father’s last words, “Half of everything I have, properties and money on the accounts will belong to my only daughter (Y/N)” you let out a breath you haven’t even realized you were holding, in relief, “Even if it breaks my heart…” continued Andy with a frown, that made your blood ran cold, “... to leave you alone my sweet girl…” he continued, “...My last dying wish and conditions for you to receive my inheritance is for you to marry my right hand man Lloyd, who I’m inheriting the other half of all my belongings”

“What?” you asked, drawing the attention of both men, Lloyd’s hand squeezed your shoulders, “Did you know about this?” you stood from your seat with the sole purpose of looking him in the eyes, and stopped the contact. Lloyd was smiling knowingly

“Of course I did” he said calmly, “I was his right-hand man, the son he never had”

“Fuck you” you spitted out, “This is insane” Andy called you and you looked at him

“Andy” you called, pleading

“It was his last wish” he said firmly, “he was sound of body and mind…” you looked at Lloyd frowning

“What did you do? what did you say to him?”

“Nothing” he mocked, “He was always so afraid something could happen to you, he wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of after he was gone”

“I’m a grown woman” you said, “I can take care of myself”

“Yeah sure, what if his enemies come after you, uh?” he said then

“This is a conversation you should have in private” muttered Andy

“I want a witness” you demanded, “Look you can keep his dirty business, we can split everything in half I don’t care” you muttered, “But I think is excessive that I marry you, only because he didn’t think I could take care of myself”

“The will explicitly says that you only inherit after you mary Lloyd” Andy said, “this was redacted 6 months ago, and again, is valid, we all know he was in his right mind” you looked at Lloyd, he seemed so relaxed and calm

“Andy, get the fuck out of here” Lloyd demanded, but before he could leave you interupted in anger

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you asked, “You do not boss him around” but Andy look at you with sorry eyes

“He does now, sweetheart” he said, before he put all the documents on his briefcase and left the room, leaving you alone with Lloyd, who took two long steps to be right in front of you

He encased your jaw with his hand, his face so close to you you could feel his hot breath on your face, making the little hairs of your neck curl. his maddened gaze made you squirmed

“I’ve been at your father's side for fifteen years, and my father for longer” he said, “and a spoiled little brat is not going to keep me from assuming the lead of this family”

“Let me go” you cried

“You are going to marry me, whether you liked it or not, and before you think about it, good luck finding someone that could help you”

“All of this for power?” you asked, “Let it all burn to the ground I’m not marrying you!”

“I’m going to be the boss, and no one is going to ruin this for me”

“You are never going to be the boss!” you spitted out, anger gripping your every cell, you had never remembered an instance in which you were more angry that you were right now. You released yourself from his grasp and walked until you were behind the desk

“Oh really?” He drew a smile so wicked it made you shiver. Of all your father’s men, you feared Lloyd the most, not because of his aspect, but because of his silent, deadly and smug demeanor. You knew him and knew what he was capable of, and that’s why you feared and respected him, but now? you were so angry you didn’t care, but you should…

He was on you in a second, with his hand encasing your throat and made you retreat until your back was against the wall. You whined and squirmed, trying to scratch his thick arm, but he was wearing a wool sweater that prevented you from injuring him

“Let me go!” you cried

“No until you marry me, hell, maybe not even then” he chuckled darkly. His handsome face, his hand on your neck barely squeezing, the single tone of his voice made your thighs clench. You had always found him hellishly attractive, but dangerous, so dangerous. He seemed to read your thoughts, because he smiled wickedly, wrinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes. “I have to confess, I always wanted to do this, claim you, like you belonged to me…” he growled like a raging animal, and in a primal way you felt the danger, not only for your body but for your very soul, he was going to devour you whole. “Because you do”

“No” you whined, staying incredibly still

“I will make you mine then” he growled. He threw you over the desk, the air suddenly left your lungs when he pressed you against the hardwood

“I’m going to take what is mine” he threatened in your ear.

“Please lloyd, be nice” you begged, knowing that you couldn’t stop him, and actually doubting if you even wanted him to stop him. You felt so exposed like this, your dress a little short so your ass was almost uncovered. He held you against his desk with one of his hands behind your neck grabbing you oughly, and the other sneaked under your dress,

“I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll beg me to marry you” he laughed

“I’ll never…!” he ripped your thighs in a single movement, the sting burned your skin and the sudden chill air in your skin made you tremble, “no please” you begged, squeezing your thighs tighter. You didn’t know if you really wanted to stop him, or if you were scared he’d found how wet you were for him.

It was the latter

“Would you look at that” of course he mocked you, “I haven’t even touched you yet and I can actually see how wet you are without even taking out your panties” you whined hiding your face from him, but nothing could scape him, he was over everything, that’s why he was going to be the boss after all.

“NO” you moaned, when you felt he sneaky fingers dangerously creeping in the lines of your panties

“I think you need to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to claim you, and you want me to do it” he mocked you, you trembled with a single of his fingers lazyly and barely touched your weeping pussy, almost a light touch was enough to made you moan

“No I don’t, you are not the boss” you wanted to provoke him, you wanted more, you wanted to tip him over the edge

“Let’s see, shall we?” his hand left your underwear and you didn’t like it.

He touched a single button on the phone right beside your head, a gruff voice greeted Lloyd at the other side

“Ari, would you be a sunshine and get the men in here?” he asked on the phone, and you trembled under him, squirming and turning like an alligator.

“No!” you whined, but he only chuckled darkly, resuming his movements under your dress, finally ripping your underwear, “Why…?” a moan escaped your mouth interrupting yourself when you felt his thick fingers entering your pussy, his thumbs pressed on your clit making you cry out in need. You were so wet you thought something embarrassing had happened

“You are right, I will never be the boss” he said simply, “If I don’t assert my dominance now…” the door opened and trough it all your father’s most trusted men walked in, Andy, Ari Levinson, Nick Fowler, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, August Walker… you couldn’t see the rest because your eyes turned to the back of your head when two of his fingers curled inside of you touching and rubbing your g spot making you cum on the spot without a single warning

“Sunshine!” he reprimanded you but with a mocking voice, “You had to give a little preview first” he mocked, “I barely touched her sweet, wet little pussy and she already cummed on my fingers!” he told the rest. And you whined trying to hide your face from their heated gazes. The shame was overpowering your pleasure, tears threatened to burn your eyes.

“C'mon Sunshine” he purred in your ear, “give them a show, prove them that you are mine” his fingers kept moving, provoking, exploring. You felt his weight on your back, “Can’t wait to make you cum on my mouth” and the ghost feeling of his mustache on your clit make you tingle against him, and you wondered how good it must feel.

“´Lloyd” you called

“What do you want, baby?” he asked,

“You” you moaned, wiggling your hips. You heard laughs and chuckled, but you focused on the feeling of your body instead, if not you were going to cry

“You want me?” he asked

“Yes please” you whispered. And he chuckled

“How can I say no to that?” the fingers left your pussy, his other hand still having you by the back of your neck. Single handedly you heard him unbuckle his belt and opening his fly

“Andy, you are ordained, right?” he asked

“That’s right” you heard him answer

“Can you marry us while she is cumming around my cock?” he asked

“Your orders boss”

“That’s damn right,” he said, pleased. grabbing his cock and ruining it with your weeping entrance. You buckle your hips at his rhythm. “Well gentleman, as you can see, I’m staking my claim” in one single push he was buried inside you to the hilt. You screamed in a mix of pain and pleasure. Because no matter how wet you were, his cock was so thick and big it still burned when he split you open for him

“Shit!” you cursed biting your lower lip, closing your eyes tightly as you felt every vein, every ridge, and his tip kissing your cervix

“Holy shit this pussy is so good” he moaned darkly, one of his hands grabbing your hip so tight you knew it was going to leave a mark. “It’s squeezing me like a fist”

“Lloyd” you cried, begged him, to move or to do something, because you knew that when he does, you were going to feel fucking amazing. You wanted to reach him, to touch him, but you couldn’t because of your position, the edge of the desk marking your thighs, your own body constricting your rib cage… but that all came to second place as you felt him retrieve himself and then thrust into you again, a slap sound could be heard in the room. His groin slapping against your ass. you moaned loudly, not hiding anymore how good he was making you feel.

He started a rough tandem, drawing sounds you had never made before. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his cock rubbed against that special spot. his and left the back of your neck and grabbed your hips, drawing you to him to meet each thrust.

“Fuck look at her” you heard the voice of Ari Levinson mocking you, watching your every expression your every sound you drew. Lloyd grabbed you by your hair, making you raise your head in the direction of your audience

“Look at her” he demanded, you opened your eyes and you looked at them, “look at her fucked out face” you closed your eyes, trying to zoom them out and just focus on how good you felt.

You felt an orgasm coming, your pussy clenched around him greedily, you moaned softly when he released you gently, letting you hide your face again in your folded arms.

“Fuck that’s it” he grabbed you by the hair again and made you twist your head in a way he could see your face twisted in pleasure, looking at how good you looked when you cummed

“So hot” he growled, “sweet girl that’s it, give me everything” your juice stained the base of his cock and made his thrusts resound in a squelching sound.

He took himself off of you, and you whined in protest, not liking it. You didn’t even get to see your audience and he turned you around, opening your legs and placing himself between them. He caressed your thighs gently before he grabbed them and made you stick to his hips. Your pussy colliding with his thick cock. You couldn’t see it, and you really wanted to, but he entered you so easily it was almost embarrassing, barely needing a little push the open you up for him again, the new, more intimate angle made the friccion it even more delicious when he kept his hard pase and rough thrusts. You wanted him against you, you reached for him also wanting to cover yourself from the men, that you could barely see from this new angle

and he leaned into you, his forehead pressing against yours.

His hands encased your ribcage, finally feeling your front. He leaned in to watch your tits bounce over the neckline of your dress. For now it was enough… Now later when he’ll have you all to himself he will take the time to touch you and savor you whole.

“Don’t look at them now, I want your eyes on me when you come undone on my fat cock” he encased your jaw with his hand, his deep blue eyes chilling you to your bone his wicked smile made you tingle even more, losing yourself on his handsome face. “You are going to come again for me baby?”

“It’s too much” you complained, feeling your puffy pussy weeping, so tender, raw and sensitive you were going to pass out

“Are you going to marry me now?” you kept turning and twisting

“No” it was a negative but you couldn’t hold a moan that came with it, the feeling of his thick cock rubbing against your walls were making you feel insanely good, your eyes were turning to the back of your head, and yet another orgasm was creeping on you and you fleetingly thought you were going to lose it. Your consciousness, your mind, your body, all of it.

“Really?” but as you almost touched the sky with your hands, he pulled out of you, making you whine in need, looking at him with teary eyes and found his mock face, smiling widely at you. You whined touching his black cardigan, demanding he resumed his thrusts

“No, please” you begged, your fingers sneaking under his wool vest and touching the hot skin of his muscled belly

“What do you want, you little slut?” he mocked

“please” your hands tried to find his cock, and he laughed in your face, mocking you, “keep doing it” you begged

“Are you seeing this?” he asked, looking at his men, many of them were touching themselves over their dress pants, many had their cocks out, and were shamelessly masturbating, “This little slut begging is something else” he turned his gaze back at you

“I’m not a slut” you protested

“That’s right, you are only mine” he entered you again and an inhuman sound left your lips. your walls grabbed him like a vice. And he amazed himself of how much he wanted to cum inside you. Something similar flied through your mind you wanted to cum, but the gaze of all of them on you wouldn’t let you

“Please Lloyd” you cried, your shame of being watched couldn't let you relax, “I’m marrying you” you promised, begging him with your eyes. his eyes looked in your for any signs of a lie, but couldn’t find any, his thumb caressed your cheek, and then he looked up to the group of men. He stilled his movements, leaving himself seated inside of you

“Get out” demanded to his men, and they all even looked shocked, that he would draw the line there after all of it, “GET THE FUCK OUT!” He shouted making you wince and they left the room like it was on fire. When the door clicked shut after the last one, he looked down at you, in his eyes where something other than malice and desire, something more… human

“I’m going to make you mine,” he sentenced. “This is where you belong, right under me” his sudden tenderness made you swallow your own words, as he resumed his movements, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands encased your face, keeping you in place gently, “You are mine” you just nodded, “say it” he demanded

“I’m yours” you said lowly

“You are going to marry me” he said then

“I’m going to marry you” you mumbled, your eyes trying to manifest him that you weren’t lying, you didn’t know if it was the pleasure, or fear

“You are going to have my babies” he demanded then

“I’m going to have your babies” you confirmed

“I’m going to keep you nice and bred all the fucking time” he growled his wicked smile appearing again as he leaned in and kissed you.

It was the first time he ever kissed you. His mustache tickled you making you smile against his mouth. and he chuckled darkly, grabbing you by the neck and pushed you until you were against the wood, taking your breath away when he separated himself from you

“I’m going to take care of you” he promised, “say it, believe it”

“You are going to take care of me” you whispered, and he smiled, kissing you again, this time, he didn’t release you and instead he fucked you rougher, faster, the tip of his cocks grazing your special spot every single time, you moaned on his mouth wantonly, needed him, your arms hugged him drawing him more tightly against you. Your legs wrapped around his middle, keeping him even closer to you. not wanting him to let you go. And just like that, your orgasm creeped out on you, your walls tightening around him, strangled his cock inside you.

“That’s it baby” when he separated himself from you a thin line of saliva still joined your hungry mouths

“Lloyd” you called like a prayer, looking into his eyes

“Fuck!” he yelled, with a last hard thrust he stilled inside you, cumming so hard, hot spurts of him cum painting your walls. “Shit Sunshine” he whined letting himself fall over your. You hugged him tightly against you, like you didn’t want him to separate from you, you didn’t want to let him go. “That’s it Pumpkin, sweet girl” he kissed your forehead, “FUck, I never cummed that hard before, shit” his stormy blue eyes found yours. And as you regained your breaths, you gazed upon one another. He kissed you again. more swiftly but no less powerful

You whined when he took himself off of you. Not liking the emptiness he left

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll be inside of you soon enough” he said with his gruff voice

You felt his thick seed dripping from your hole and down your thighs. Making you moan, repressing the need to collect it with your fingers, Lloyd did it for you, and then he fed it to you, rubbing his fingers in your mouth, and smiled widely when you licked his fingers, tasting his seed and moaning because of his salty taste

“That’s a good wife” he mocked, he actually helped you with your dress, putting it back in place and helped you on your feet. You whined again when your lack of pantis made you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, staining them

“Lloyd” you cried, but not even knew what you wanted from him, you looked into his eyes and he smiled softly, encasing your face with his hands, and leaned in to kiss you softly

“Mine” he growl against your mouth

“Yours” you confirmed, he lets go off you

“Now I need to talk to the men, so wifey, smile and go make me a nice dinner” he whispered derogatorily in your ear, spanking your ass, encouraging you to leave the office, the men outside smiling knowingly when they saw you, but they bowed with their heads as you passed by them. You were the wife of the boss now.

You heard the men laugh when they saw you could barely walk out of the study, hearing Lloyd

“Now, you all are going to pledge your allegiance to me” he demanded as you kept walking towards the kitchen to talk to the staff about the new order in the house

He was the boss now. And you were no longer the dutiful daughter, now you were the dutiful wife.

I've wanted to write about the clit tickler for a while now, and I will do it again! muajaja

PART II IN HERE

4K notes · View notes

frostironfudge · 1 year

Text

You Said I Was Your Favourite - Ari Levinson

Summary: You're taken from Ari. He's promised you many things but when his eyes don't meet yours and his present words begin to make you doubt his past promises. Will you go back to him?

Paring: Mafia!Ari Levinson x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst, mentions of past self harm, scars of self harm mentioned, reader is clean since 3 months, canon level violence, reader kidnapped, swearing, guns, blood, injury, protective ari, smut, p in v, dirty talk, fluff, past is in italics, hurt/comfort, fluff/smut, nicknames: metuka (meaning sweetheart).

A.N.: honestly the lyric 'you drew stars around my scars, but now i'm bleeding' cardigan by taylor swift, was circling around my head for the most part writing this fic. this is sort of a self indulgent fic, plus Mr. Levinson just reminds me of this comforting bear, i adore him. wrote this amidst a writing block so it may not be top notch but i adore it.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics || Word Count: 4.1k

Main Masterlist || AO3

Burning gunmetal and rust, a leaking pipe of water. Rough, uneven ground digs into your skin. Your gaze searches the dark room, vision field limited at the angle your head is twisted upon.

The overhead light flickers with an inconsistent buzz. You groan when you feel yourself being propped up to your knees.

“Stupid bitch.” The man sneers, grip tightening on your hair, twisting harshly. Your clothes stick to you, uncomfortably so. Sweat and you fear some amount of blood might be the reason.

The door is kicked open, heavy footsteps each around the room. You can’t look up fully due to the grip on your head.

However recognising that cologne is easy, and the way your heart soars even in this most horrible situation. You know it’s him—Ari.

Another whimper is coaxed out of you, your head tilted further the warm barrel of the gun touches your jaw.

Ari’s gaze is cold, not the warm blue waters that you love to sink into, none of the fiery blaze present with which he would trace your form.

“I see you made it.” The man chuckles, tapping your jaw with the gun, “Here I thought apart from your long gone wife no one held your affections.” He laments.

Ari’s jaw tightens, lips pressed into a thin line. It is then you realise he isn’t sparing you a glance. His gaze is on the man only.

“What no words? I have your girl.” The man scoffs, Ari just shrugs.

“You should really fact check, Parson.” Ari tuts, retrieving the pack of cigarettes he carries and lights one.

One puff, then a second one.

He scratches the side of his mouth with his thumb. Eyes everywhere else but on your form.

You swallow, your heart trying to convince your mind this is a dream. You were sleeping.

You had gone out, the mall? Yes.

Picking up a dress for dinner with Ari.

You must have gotten tired and fallen asleep.

This is just a dream.

Ari would never let his gaze stray from you. He would never ignore you.

“So if I shoot her, you won’t be sad or mad?” Parson’s voice sounds full of doubt.

“Oh I would be, but it is because you killed an innocent person, not because she means anything to me. You have the wrong woman.” Ari takes another drag of the cigarette. It burns bright then turns to ash.

You feel tears brim your eyes, a wicked smirk on Ari’s face.

“Oh, did you think more?” He speaks in a mocking tone. You feel your heart crack.

Please be a dream. Your heart screams, wails in your chest. Your gaze shifts down, lips pressed together tightly not to let the sob break free.

“But, but I saw the two of you, your hand on her face. She’s in l-love with y-you.” Parson stammers, his clear upperhand being undermined.

“Half of the female population pines for a minute of my affection.” Ari drops the cigarette, stepping upon it with the heel of his boot.

“You should have had more women in here.” He gives a dry chuckle.

“There isn’t anyone apart from you, Metuka.” Ari whispers against your forehead, “After a long time my heart has thawed, waiting to place itself onto your palms.”

You stay silent, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Bear.” Your throat tightens, “I, I have feelings for you too.” You admit, “I thought, I thought you wouldn’t—,”

“Oh but I do, Metuka.” He smiles, the kind that melts your heart. He pulls you into his arms, engulfing you in his bear hug. You nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

You blink tears at the memory.

“I’ve seen you kiss her.” Parson still argues.

Ari clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.

Ari’s lips find yours, he walks in after his work day. You gave him your apartment key. A squeal leaves you when he lifts you up, arms wrapping around your waist pulling you flush against his broad chest.

Deep rumbling laughter fills the small kitchen. You tilt your head back looking up at him. He then brushes his lips against yours, your hand moves to tangle with his soft hair. A few of the strands tickling your cheek.

The kiss turns bruising, you tug on his hair, he groans into your mouth, hands tightening around you. Keeping you to him.

“You’re mine, Metuka, as I am yours.” He promises.

“Parson, you’re wasting my fucking time.” Ari roars, anger coursing through his voice. You close your eyes.

“So you won’t care if I hurt her?” Parson smirks, watching the man in front of him closely. He taps the gun to your forehead.

“No one will lay a finger upon you, Metuka.” Ari promises as you’re laying with your head in his lap.

“Ari, nothing will happen to me.” You look up at him, his palm brushing over your head pauses, eyes harbour a moment of worry.

You grasp the hand that is on your abdomen, bringing it to your lips you kiss his palm. The callouses memorised by you. Your thumb traces over them.

“You will always protect me, I know.” You assure him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of what I do. Ever.” There is a furrow between his brows.

“Bear.” You try to get him to smile at the nickname, he doesn’t, you frown.

“Metuka,” Ari struggles with verbalising, you sit up, effortlessly he makes you sit facing him, “I will protect you till my last breath.”

“Bear, don’t, say that.” Your hands cup his face, stroking over his beard.

“There is only you, I only harbour you in my heart.” Blue eyes study you as you take in his words, your skin heats.

“I love you, Ari.” Your words light him up, he rewards you with the prized grin that belongs only to you.

“Parson, I was told you have a negotiation for business.” Ari taps his foot, your eyes drop from his face, “I didn’t realise you’d rather discuss the women I fuck.”

The words are cruel, they make you question everything over the past six months.

Your brain mocks your heart, you almost don’t feel the blade sinking into your forearm. When you refocus, you see the torn sleeve, Parson’s smile drops when Ari doesn’t show a shred of care.

“Let's try the other hand.” Parson moves, gripping your left hand. You panic.

“No.” You whisper, you hadn’t let Ari see your arms, favouring full sleeves. Not letting him take off your shirt when things got intimate during heavy make outs.

You were waiting for the damn scars to fade. You try to pry your hand away.

Ari’s hands freeze under your shirt. The way you tensed had him pause. He retracts his hands and pulls his mouth away from your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, attempting to shift away. Your hands grasp his shoulders urging him to stay.

“Ari, Ari let me explain—,”

“You just have to say no, Metuka. It all stops. I don’t want an explanation.” He shakes his head.

“I’m, no I want to do this, kissing you making out, I just, I’m not comfortable taking my top off yet.” Your skin heats, you gaze down at his half exposed chest. The hypocrisy makes you wince.

“Do you want my hands to explore beneath?” He questions, you nod.

“So the shirt is not off but I can try to touch your very pretty boobs.” He just laughs when you lightly smack his chest. Grasping your palm he brings your fingers to his lips. Placing soft kisses upon them as his beard tickles.

You giggle, Ari adores you.

His palms then cup your cheeks, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll take it further okay? I’m very happy making out as though we’re horny teenagers.”

That earns him another smack.

His deep laugh rumbles through your chest.

You try to shift away, Parson points his gun at Ari.

“He may feel nothing but I know you do, even if you’re nothing to him. Do you want him dead?” He chuckles darkly when your eyes shift from the gun to the towering man.

Ari still doesn’t meet your gaze, you don’t understand. Till this morning it was as if you were his world. Now he looks at you as if you’re nothing to him.

“Please don’t hurt him.” You look up at Parson. He only smiles, lowering the gun. Harshly grabbing your forearm you cry out, then bite down on your tongue to stop the whimpers.

Parson pushes the sleeve back harshly, the knife ready but then he pauses, seeing the lines strewn across your skin.

“Of course, big bad mafia man, Ari Levinson would never want someone broken.” Parson shakes his head with laughter bubbling past his tongue.

Ari finally moves his gaze on you, you’re looking down, biting back sniffles. The sight of your forearm though, sends his heart plummeting.

How had he not figured it out?

Why hadn’t you told him?

Is this why you didn’t want to show him all of you?

Why had he not asked you more often if you were doing alright?

How selfish and blind had he been towards you?

How long has this been going on?

Guilt fills him.

“No one would want someone this broken.” The disgust in Parson’s voice wraps around your mind, the scars ache beckoning you towards them yet again.

“I know.” Your voice is so small, you don’t look up. You don’t want Ari to see you this way. He wouldn’t care either way. You blink away the tears, it only makes them brim over.

“Parson, you have ten seconds to step away from her.” Ari warns through gritted teeth.

The man scoffs, “You’re without a weapon. You’re in no position to—,”

The mobster reaches into his jacket, retrieving a gun.

“H-how did you get that past my guards?” Parson sutters at the ammunition reveal.

“Oh, your guards? Did I say I came in here unprepared?” Ari chuckles darkly.

Parson presses the gun to your forehead, again.

“I won’t hesitate.” He warns.

“Nor will I.” Ari declares, “Close your eyes for me, Metuka.”

You look up at him, he finally meets your gaze. You close your eyes.

You hear the click, there is the echo of a shot fired followed by a clattering. You cover your ears. The gun no longer pressed to your forehead.

“Metuka.”

Warmth wraps around you, the scent of musk and jasmine surrounds you. Ari. You’re pressed to his chest. You want to cry, bury yourself in him.

You’re about to give in, take the comfort that belongs to you. Then you pause, you tense up.

Pushing at him, no, no, he wasn’t yours, he promised and everything Ari just admitted to, he doesn’t, he never said it and you know why, now.

“I’m sorry, I had to lie. Metuka, I’m so sorry, I should have been there with you. I sent you off alone like a fool.” He stumbles over his words,

“I promised you and I broke it, I couldn’t protect you, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry about whatever I said, I had to make him question his plan. I’m so sorry. Please talk to me, Matuka.” He pleads, large hands running up and down your shaking form.

You stay quiet, cheek pressed to the exposed flesh of his chest. His habit of having the top two buttons of his shirts unbuttoned was something you always found yourself drawn towards. Findinding your cheek pressed against it, hearing his breath and heart beating.

“You said it all so easily.” You whisper.

“I had to lie.” Ari explains, his hand cupping your face, trying to get you to look at him.

The wet tears gracing his skin breaking everything within him.

“Bear?” Your voice is low, sleep ridden.

He looks up from his files to you. You’re standing in the doorway of his office.

“Metuka? Why are you awake, is everything alright?” Pushing the chair back he stands, motioning for you to come closer.

“Bad dream…” you say, making your way to his open arms.

“Wanna talk about it?” Ari wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

You shake your head, wanting to dismiss the dream. It still gnaws at you.

“You won’t, you won’t lie to me right?” You whisper the question.

Ari’s brows furrow, “I’d never—,”

“About the way you feel, you won’t lie right? Saying that you have feelings for me when you actually don’t? If, if you just want sex then we can, you don’t have to lie to wait—,”

“Metuka.” The pain in that one word makes you pause.

Ari steps back, hands not leaving your face.

“I want everything with you okay? I don’t care how long I need to wait. I want you to be comfortable. I know I don’t express myself enough but please know I will never lie to coerce you into bed.” His blue eyes gaze into your own. Slowly you move closer to him again.

Closing the distance between the two of you. Ari’s hands move to your hips, aiding you in reaching up to him. He bends down, meeting your lips in a soft kiss. A promise.

When your lips part, as you breathe in you contemplate telling him.

“You can tell me what is on your mind.” His thumb strokes your cheek.

“Previous, previous partners have said sweet words and declarations of emotions… just to get into bed and then they leave.” You tell him.

“Give me the names.” He says so casually.

“Ari you aren’t going all Mafia Boss on them.” You warn him.

“They disrespected you, Metuka, they hurt you. Those who hurt you should not get a second chance at life.” He declares.

There is a pause, “Was your dream about me hurting you?” He hesitates in wanting to know, a fear so deeply ingrained.

You nod.

“I wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you, please know that. I may have to lie or keep some truths half hidden, to protect you from the world I am a part of, I don’t want that tainting you.” Ari admits his worries, your arms wrap around him.

He seeks refuge in your warmth.

“I cannot have people use you or hurt you just to get back at me, for things I’ve done.” He continues, “I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire and I will make sure of it that you don’t ever get hurt.”

“I’m so sorry.” He says again, you grab at his coat lapels, “I’m going to find who leaked our location—,”

“Ari, it hurts.” You finally register the wound on your forearm, looking at it you frown.

Then you look down at Ari’s sleeve, his jacket half off, the sleeve of his shirt torn to make a makeshift bandage for your wound. You stare up at him.

“Metuka, we’ll talk about everything at home. Can you stand?” He watches over you, the protectiveness within him brimming over.

You wince moving your leg forward.

“Alright, I’m carrying you.” Ari decides, shifting to your side and in a blink you’re in his arms.

“Boss.” Lloyd interrupts his step towards the door.

“Close your eyes.” He whispers softly to you, you bury your head against his chest. Closing your eyes. Breathing in his scent.

You feel Ari turn, “Keep him alive. I want answers, then I’ll take care of it. Metuka isn’t to be messed with, ever.” There is a dark edge to his voice, a judgement veiled between words.

Lloyd hums, “Alright, can I be creative with the keeping alive process?”

You don’t hear Ari’s reply, just feel him beginning to move again.

The distant yell has you know what his reply was to Lloyd.

Ari doesn’t take you to your apartment, you’re driven up to his estate. The first time you had seen his home post the lunch he took you to for your first date you joked if he was a mafia drug lord.

You giggle remembering his expression. Ari smiles when he hears the melodic sound. Nerves easing.

“What’s making you laugh?” He smiles as you meet his gaze with a smile. The dim lighting of the car did not dull the soft shine in his loving gaze.

“Just your face, when I asked if you’re a mafia drug lord when you brought me here for the first time.” You laugh again, he squeezes your side playfully.

“I was so scared you’d go running to the hills when I told you.” He admits. His free hand softly traces your left hand. Never over the scars just bordering around them.

“I wouldn’t, I mean, shady things yeah, but you aren’t in the whole drug thing so…” you trail off, the house comes into view.

“Come, I’ve got a medic on call.” Ari holds you protectively yet again.

“I think I can walk—,” you keep quiet at the look he gives you.

The medic is a sweet woman, she tends to your wounds, the cut isn’t deep for stitches, just a dressing. Her eyes linger on your scarred forearm, she doesn’t broach. You’re thankful for that.

The other scarpes littered over your form are checked and cleaned.

Ari enters the room, holding your favourite blue shirt of his and a pair of leggings you left here. He places them then moves to stand outside the room, waiting for you to change.

“I want to tell you about, about the scars.” You tell him, his face ashen as he turns.

“I, I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention.” He doesn’t know what he should say, you shake your head.

“I hid them, I, I’m about three months clean now. I wanted them healed before you saw, didn’t want you to think I’m broken.” You quietly admit the last part.

“Metuka, I could never.” Ari gently grasps your hands, “You aren’t broken, this, this is hard, I just want to support you. The way you need. I don’t want you doing this to yourself ever again, but I know it’s easier said than done. I’m proud of you for being clean for three months. So immensely proud.” He peppers kisses all over your face, his beard tickling you laugh.

“You never have to hide any part of you from me.” Ari grasps your chin gently, tilting your head back, “I love you. Every part, even the ones you may keep hidden away from me.”

You stare up at him, the little flecks in his eyes, the sincerity of his words. Your chest tightens.

“Ari.” You remember to breathe.

“I love you.” He affirms again.

“Ari.” His name breaks as your voice does, “Ari, I love you too.”

“Metuka.” His own voice grows heavy with emotion, “No one is in my heart but you, no one holds my heart but you.”

Your hands move from his chest, up his neck, one cups his face the other runs through his hair. He sighs, basking in the warmth of your touch.

You reach up, gently tugging him downward. Ari complies with your wish.

Your lips meet, his hand moves over your back, towards your neck. His lips slightly chapped, bitten in worry, the lingering hint of smoke and the drink he probably took. His tongue moves over your bottom lip, parting your lips.

Your groan has him push himself closer to you. Your legs around his waist, Ari nips at your bottom lip coaxing another whimper from you. Your fingers tug upon his hair, a deep growl rumbles within his chest.

You can feel his hardening length against your core, you gasp when his hips move against you.

“A-ari,” his lips move along your jaw, nipping and humming at the taste of your skin.

Your clit pulses as he sucks upon the spot beneath your ear.

“I feel so content.” He hums, tugging on your earlobe, “Having you back in my arms.” His beard brushes over the spot he just etched his mark onto.

You keen as his bulge twists the fabric of your panties over your clit. Pleasure sparks across your spine.

“Mine, just as I am yours.” Ari says, biting down on your collar bone. His large form encases you. His lips on every inch of your exposed skin, the little gown coming off, your nipples harden brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck,” you tug on the shirt, he shifts back letting you undo the buttons, his own large hands moving over your sides, eyes darkening.

“You sure you want this, Metuka?” Ari hisses when your nails scrape over his chest, your lips tracing over his sternum, making way to his nipple tugging on it, his grip tightens on your thighs.

“I want you, Ari. How much ever you’re willing to give me.” Your lips trace over his neck, to his jaw, then his lips. Hands moving to his pants, he aids you in undoing them.

His length twitches in your palm, you moan softly feeling the familiar vein on the underside as you trace his length. Ari groans as your thumb circles over his tip collecting the precum and bringing it to your lips.

Fingers hooking around the band, you raise your hips, Ari gets rid of your panties, discarding them to the side, you shiver as the cool air greets your wet folds.

Warm fingers have you arch, grinding against them.

He brings his soaked fingers toward his mouth. You moan when his eyes close as he hums at your taste appreciatively.

“Ari, please.” You plead, he chuckles.

“Impatient little sweet girl.” He teases, parting your thighs further, hooking them around his waist, his tip moves against your folds, you want to sigh at the relief of being so close to feeling him.

It turns into a moan melding with his own groan as your walls take his girth in, chest rising and falling, Ari sinks into you inch by delicious inch. The burning stretch dulling into pleasure as his thumb draws circles onto your clit.

“Ari, Ari, Ari—,” you choke on your words, his his flush against yours, your walls pulse around him. His lust blown eyes on your pussy.

“She takes me so well, fuck baby, look at you.” He gazes into your eyes, slowly pulling out halfway then sinking into you again. And again.

Your jaw slack, he shifts slightly, tip brushing over the spot that has you shuddering in his hold. Ari pushes you down, the angle making him go deeper, your back arched. The sound of skin slapping as his pace becomes relentless.

“Squeezing me so good, don’t want to let your cock go do you, Metuka?” His mouth latches to your taut nipple, your hand grabs at his hair tugging harshly lips only know to say his name—oh god, oh god, oh god.

You feel the pleasure build slowly then all at once he has you dancing along the edge. Your legs wrap around him tighter, not letting him go too far. His large hands squeeze at your hips, mouth latching onto the other nipple. His happy trail, rubs against your clit, sending you over.

You cum with a cry of his name, the wet sloshing sounds only increase as you gush around him. His pace doesn’t relent, pushing you further down, he hovers above you. Your leg now over his shoulder.

His hand wrapped around your throat, stroking over the sweat sheened skin.

“So pretty this way, one more baby, one more before I fill you up. One more,” he coaxes, you feel him move impossibly deeper. Tip hitting your cervix stars cloud your vision.

Can’t, I can’t, you think, “Ari,”

“You can and you will.” He growls, pinching your clit you shudder yet again, the pleasure begins to climb, taking over you nerve by nerve.

“Look at you, so pretty, taking all of me so well, I belong to you my sweetness, all of me, yours, yours to love, yours to hold, yours to claim, yours to fuck.” Ari swears as he feels your walls spasm, your nails dig into his forearms you shudder in his grasp as your orgasm triggers his own.

Ari moans your name, spilling into you, claiming your walls with his seed. He continues to thrust allowing you both to ride out your orgasms, he watches the mix of the two of you coat a ring at the base of his length.

“I’m not done with you, Metuka.” He says, softly kissing your forehead.

You look at him through glassy eyes, aftershocks lingering through you.

He slowly pulls out, you whimper, then moan when his lips move along your inner thighs, blowing softly over your clit.

“Ari—,” Your whine cut off when his mouth latches to your cunt. The way his eyes glaze and roll back at your taste, the moan that presses against your folds and clit. You cry out for more of him.

“I told you I’m not done. Have to have a taste of my pretty pussy.” Is all he says, beard gleaming with your arousal, before his lips latch around your clit again.

-x-

1K notes · View notes

buckybarnesandmarvel · 8 months

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝

pairings: chris evans x vet!reader

warnings: a whole bunch of fluff

summary: an ordinary day at the shelter turns into something... unexpected

a/n: trust chris to get me out of writers block. also holy fuck that outfit has a fucking chokehold on me ithinkiforgothowtobreathelohmygod

***********************************************************************

You weren't told about this. Well... you were told someone was coming in for a collaborative video linked to the dogs... but you definitely weren't expecting this.

Chris-fucking-Evans.

You watched as he walked in, his broad figure hugged by a too-tight shirt, a small chain peeking through the collar, his hair messy under his cap and his blue eyes sparkling through his glasses. A large grin adored his face as he clapped his hands excitedly. You couldn't help discretely looking him up and down and your thoughts took over, momentarily distracting you. You took a deep breath and walked into your treatment room.

You were the resident vet at the shelter, looking after all the dogs that were brought in. You loved your job, being able to hang out with the dogs all day, it was both fun and rewarding. You knew them all at this point and made it your habit to see all of them first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

You had actually adopted your pup, Buzz, from the shelter, a beautiful baby chocolate lab. To be fair, you would've gladly adopted them all if your landlord hadn't forbade you and you had enough money and space. Now you just brought him into work, letting him run around and socialise as you did your thing.

You were doing a checkup on a dalmatian that had been brought in the week before when the camera crew came in, Chris-fucking-Evans tailing along behind them with a large smile. You momentarily paused, your eyes widening slightly before you put on a smile and made more room. You introduced yourself and the dog, Coco and they asked you a couple questions then let you work, filming you doing the checkup. Chris stood to the side watching intently as you worked with the dalmatian, wearing the scrubs and gloves you had leant him. You were glad Coco was calm throughout the checkup, not getting spooked by the amount of people in the room.

You smiled as you deemed everything fine with her and stepped aside as Chris came forward to give her a treat. Your heart almost burst when you saw how soft he was with her, raising his voice a couple octaves higher as he pet her gently. Once your piece was over, the crew left as you got ready to take Coco back to her room. You clipped on the leash as you looked for anything you had maybe left, when you saw Chris standing by your equipment, a smile still on his face.

"Hi?"

"Uh hey! Hey. I'm Chris." He looked at you and stepped forward, extending his hand for a handshake. You took his hand in yours as you smiled shyly.

"Yeah, I know. It's really nice to meet you sir."

Chris gave out a breathy laugh as his cheeks became dusted with a slight pink.

"Please no need for that, just call me Chris."

"Okay... Chris. Was there anything you needed?"

"Nah, I just wanted to say that's it's great y'know... what you do for the dogs here."

Your cheeks heated at the compliment as you smiled wider.

"Thank you! But honestly, it's not much. I love what I do."

"Still, it's exceptional.... hey... i was wondering if you're free after this?"

You froze slightly as your eyes widened a fraction. Your jaw almost dropped as you took in the man in front of you. He couldn't possibly want to go out with you..? You mentally shook the thought off and heat rose to your cheeks as you realise you kept him waiting.

"Y-yep! I'm free."

"Great! What time do you get off?"

"7."

"I'll be waiting..."

He winked and walked out of the room, leaving you slightly flustered and confused, but it a good way. And you couldn't help thinking that was something... unexpected.

*********************************************************************** first time writing in a long time, guys. don't judge lol x

***********************************************************************

tagging: @xioriae @chrisevansdaughter @newgirlintheneighborhood @boredum7865 @hulkstacos @dhoruwolfie @scorpiolystoned @smoothdogsgirl @bubblessunshinehoney @youralphawolf72 @littlebluestone @friskyfisher @hallecarey1 @nana1000night

202 notes · View notes

royalsweetteaa · 2 years

Text

Capital of needs

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x housemaid!reader

WARNING - the following contains: nothing crazy - fluff, soft!Ransom (kinda), Ransom being needy, touch starved Ransom, affectionate gestures (hugs, kisses, cuddles), insomniac Ransom, light angst, sickness (fever), sex is briefly mentioned/suggested but no smut.

Summary: You’re Ransom’s housemaid and you get to learn more about the trust fund manchild from a different perspective as you earn a place in his heart.

Working for Harlan’s grandson, Hugh Ransom Drysdale wasn’t easy. The money paid well and was worth the extra trouble caused by him, but recently he was becoming all the more demanding. Not for the reasons you would have expected though.

You were offered to be Ransom’s housemaid as his parents’ concern grew from how little their son maintained his own house. He was always out doing something, and would rarely clean up after himself when he came back home late at night.

Your first week of cleaning Ransom’s house was rough to say the least. There were alcohol bottles everywhere, and the house reeked of cigarettes.

You bought supplies sponsored by his mother to freshen up the house. There was one scented candle in each room with the smell of a different flower. The smell of roses, lavender, jasmine and gardenia was heaven to your nostrils while you continued to clean up. You remember seeing Ransom’s face when he walked in and he cringed from the smell, saying it smelled like Poison Ivy herself had a laboratory experiment in the place. You rolled your eyes at his dramatic reaction.

Ransom would all but change his habits of cleaning up after himself after the many weeks of being a housemaid. You did however notice how he would more often stay at home and entertain himself by being on his computer or watching TV. Probably watching porn, you would think. It made you giggle to imagine despite how childish it was.

Ransom would start calling after you to do the simplest tasks too, which displayed his arrogance to the fullest.

“Turn on the TV.” He would call out while you were in the kitchen working on dinner. He was only a few feet from the TV.

“Find me something to wear!” He would shout while he stood by his closet. You were in the bathroom, cleaning the floor.

“I want some snacks. Now.” He would demand as he sat on the kitchen island while you were washing the windows.

It took some time for you to pick up he was doing it for your attention as he would just stare at you while you completed his tasks of demands. Like he had nothing better to do. He would also throw in a few condescending comments as you did his tasks, as he was so high and mighty.

“Look at you. Doing all the work like the good maid you are paid to be.”

You ignored him as much as possible, occasionally rolling your eyes at his playful demeanor.

What would change your relationship was when Ransom came home late from his parents with clear rage. You had just cooked dinner for him, and yet he had to pull a tantrum by insulting you. He was basically taking out his anger on you by saying rude things, such as;

“You’re useless!”

“You’re only here because of my family’s money!”

“You could put effort in how you look when you’re working here.”

You knew what he was doing. He was trying to get a reaction from you, and you were going to give him just that, except not in the way he wanted to.

“Now, now. There’s no need to be mad at me just because you had a bad day. There’s little stopping me from quitting if you’re going to treat me like that.” You stated firmly.

He immediately shut his mouth but soon after followed it with a scoff. “Yeah, right. You’re earning bank by working for me. You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, you wanna test that theory? Fine then. I’ll leave in the count of five and if you don’t apologize, I’ll see myself out.”

He gritted his teeth as reality hit him of how serious you were. “One….” You counted. “…two….three…” His body language was indicating distress as you got closer to the last number. “Four….fi-!”

“Alright, alright! I-I’m sorry! There, are you happy?” He raised his hands in surrender.

You sighed and nodded. “Good. Now, I know you have some…family issues and I’m sure some of it justifies you being upset. But it’ll never help to take those negative emotions over others in the process. I’m not suggesting to be your therapist or for you to share your issues, but just know if you feel like talking about something, I am here. Communicate with me rather than taking out your frustration on me.” You advised as you stepped closer to him.

He looked to the side, nodding hesitantly before mumbling an ‘okay’ under his breath. You giggled at his usual stubbornness.

“Come here. Let me give you a bear hug.” You said, and approached him with open arms. He froze as you wrapped your arms around him, giving his back slow strokes of comfort. You were evaluating on wether or not it was the best idea to do that, but soon enough Ransom relaxed into you and wrapped his arms around your waist as his head dipped to relax on your shoulder. You stayed like that for what seemed like forever before you laid together on the sofa and cuddled.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it was late and Ransom didn’t want to let go of you. You woke up super early in the morning the day after to go home as it was your free day of the week.

When you returned the day after that, Ransom was still at home, and again came in the requests of simple tasks he could have done by himself. This time he would add ‘please’ to his requests as you had expressed your dislike to his demanding commands.

He was like a grumpy cat who had finally learned to appreciate being petted and given attention by its owner. That was how you liked to describe it - to yourself anyway.

When Ransom was in a very good mood, he would flirt with you and brush past you, just to have the excuse of touching you.

When that didn’t seem to phase you, Ransom became more needy by the day, becoming blunt enough to request physical intimacy. That was when you thought it was important to remind him of your position as it seems he has forgotten it.

“Ransom, I’m your housemaid. I’m supposed to clean, cook and work, not hang around on the sofa curled up with you. It was only a one time thing.” You huffed.

Ransom rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you work for me so when I want to be held, you should listen. I want your hugs. Now.” Ransom demanded once again.

You shook your head, more to yourself and continued filling the dishwasher with used utensils.

Ransom groaned and walked towards you lazily.

“Y/N….” Ransom whined your name. “Stop ignoring meeee.”

“Listen, I have a lot to do! Maybe if you helped out a bit, I could have time for you, but I don’t, so….”

You didn’t know why you suggested that last part, but surprisingly it appealed to him.

“Really? Is that a promise?” Ransom asked smugly.

“…Maybe? Though I doubt the Hugh Ransom Drysdale would possibly be willing to help someone so low class as his housemaid.” You challenged.

“Tch, don’t insult me. You should know by now that I’m only willing when I get something good in return. It’s not like I’m the one being paid to do stuff.” He reminded.

“And did you hear me complain? I only said I don’t have time for you when you make me have so much to do. That’s all.” You simply defended.

Ransom fell quiet at that. He sighed and walked over to you and decided to help out taking in the used plates and cups. His face scrunched as he took the plate that still had a few rests from what Ransom had eaten earlier, his classical breakfast - egg and bacon with toast.

“You know you used that plate, right? It’s just crumbs of your leftovers.” You pointed out.

“It’s still…gross.” He complained.

You shook your head and laughed with a smile. Together you put the last bowls in the dishwasher and pressed ‘start’ for it to begin doing its magic.

“There. We done now?” Ransom asked with a monotone voice.

“Well, I still have to take out your clothes for drying, and there was also some dust upstairs I need to vacuumclean -“

“Fuck that.” He blurted out with impatience. “You’re done for the day. You could use a break anyways. C’mere.”

He grabbed your hand and led you to the couch before pulling you in his arms for you to be nuzzled against him. He lifted his feet up on the sofa to make himself comfortable, and you simply laid your head on his chest and let his arms drape around you. There was a thud you couldn’t quite point your finger on, but ignored it.

“I haven’t slept well since that first night of being like this…I’ve missed it.” Ransom confessed, which made your ears perk up in interest.

Ransom would rarely confess anything personal, and to know you had helped him fall asleep so easily was something to brag about in itself.

“Awww, has the mean, grumpy Ransom grown into a softie?” You teased. You looked up at him to be met by his annoyed gaze.

“Shut the fuck up. You just have the perfect form to have you lay on me and not have it feel like my back is about to break. Plus - your body temperature feels good against me. It makes me fall asleep easily.” There’s a slight pause before he adds; “You’re basically a human heating pad to me.”

Of course he had to say that. He was way too embarrassed to admit he just really liked to be curled up with you when he could get just about any girl to be like this. But you guessed for whatever real reason there was behind it, he needed this a lot.

You sneaked out after 3 hours, not wanting to repeat the mistake of sleeping over the whole night. You needed to set a few ground rules, and what better time than to do just that while Ransom was sleeping?

The following day, you got a fever, and you called in sick from showing up for work at Ransom’s house. After getting confirmation from Linda, you left your phone on the nightstand and fell in deep slumber.

Your eyes blinked open as you heard the sound of someone banging your door and spamming the doorbell. You rose up from the bed slowly, making careful steps over to the front door and opening it.

“Ransom..?” You muttered, scanning his body and recognizing the brown coat. It wasn’t fully registering in your head that the guy stood before you, not to mention that he looked furious.

“So we’re playing this game now, sweetheart? Gonna pretend you’re sick so you can avoid me? That’s rude. I go vulnerable twice and you’re already done?” Ransom asked with arms crossed.

You groaned tiredly. “…I really don’t need this right now, Ransom…I’m sick with a fever…leave before I cough on your face and make you sick too.”

“Well too bad, I need you at my house before things become a mess again.” He argued.

You didn’t reply as you turned to go back to your bedroom. You collapsed onto the bed and let out a few coughs before trying to cover yourself with blankets. Ransom followed suit, almost offended that you ignored him.

“So you weren’t lying. It still doesn’t explain why you had to leave. You could have stayed at my house and be sick there.”

You nuzzled your face onto the pillow, not wanting to hear more of Ransom’s nonsense. He obviously was only here to argue, and you were in no shape of doing so. You heard him sigh when you returned no response, and he stepped out of your room, locking the door behind him.

You thought he would go home and leave you for the rest of the day, but Ransom was unpredictable.

He returned with a bag with a logo of your local pharmacy and threw it onto the bed beside you.

“Here. These should help you get better.”

You blinked up at him, bewildered that he had returned. “How did you…get in again?”

“I took your house key…it was literally on the counter beside the door.”

“Right…” you muttered, before shuffling through the bought items Ransom had brought for you. “Thanks, Ransom…I’ll pay you back when I get my paycheck.”

Ransom scoffed. “Psh, don’t think about it. It barely cost anything.”

“Not for me it doesn’t. Besides, you didn’t have to do this for me, but yet you did. Why?” You asked, curiously looking up at him.

He bit the inside of his cheek, looking rather unsure on how to respond. “I just….I just need you to get well quicker so that you can get back to work. There’s already trash everywhere and it needs to be taken care of as soon as possible.”

You nodded while having the palm of your hand on your forehead. You were so warm, it was almost unbearable. “Mhm. Alright, I’ll try to get better by the end of the week. I’ll contact you before I make my return.”

He hummed in response, and made his way out, muttering a ‘get well’ before closing the door behind him.

Your fever had toned down with the help of the medicine Ransom had brought you the day prior. Despite that, you still felt very drowsy and not fit for work, so you decided to call it another sick day. You read a book and relaxed with closed eyes as you patiently waited for your body to fight the sickness.

This day wouldn’t either end Ransom-free as you thought - no, expected it to be.

You knew who it was by the door based on how impatiently the door bell rang again. A groan slipped out of your mouth as you opened the door, being met by an annoyed Ransom. Nothing unusual.

“What.” You deadpanned.

“Still sick? Your immune system must suck ass.”

“I guess so.” You shrugged, not sure if he was trying to be funny.

“Have you used the medicine I bought you?”

“No, I threw it out.” You said sarcastically. “Of course I used it.”

“So, you’re not coming to my house today?” He had the nerve to ask when it was past 06:00 PM.

“It’s late in the evening, Ransom. So no. I’m not coming to your house. As you concluded yourself, I’m not in any shape or form able to work today.” You replied, trying your best to sound unbothered.

He huffed, assumingely out of annoyance but you didn’t care. You left him by the door again and stepped back to your room. “Well, if that is all, I’ll be leaving you. Good night, Ransom.”

You shuffled back to your bedroom and weren’t surprised to not hear a reply. Soon after you heard the door close. That was the end of that, you thought.

You were yet again disproven when you heard steps coming towards your room, and it was Ransom with his shoes, scarf and coat taken off. You were already under the bed sheets, staring at him as he made his way closer to you.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugged and stood by the bed, gesturing you to scoot over and make room on your bed.

You frowned, but did as he said.

Surely he wasn’t going to…

With that, Ransom had joined you in bed, having his arms around you tightly as the two of you tried your best to find comfort with the small space of your bed. Ransom was a big man, and you started to worry if the bed would break when added his weight, but you heard no questionable sounds from the bed suggesting it. There was a brief silence as you laid there together, until you couldn’t contain your curiosity.

“Ransom, what are we doing?” You had to ask, still ever so confused as to what was going through this man’s mind.

“Taking a nap, darling.” He responded casually. The nickname took you by absolute surprise.

“You can do that at home.” You argued.

“No. Not without you.“ He sighed, indicating he wasn’t going to further explain himself. You were restless enough to ask the daring question to further know his intentions.

“Why?”

Ransom rolled his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because I’ve already told you. I can’t sleep well without holding you. I have been dealing with insomnia for so long, and you seem to be my best and healthiest recourse.” He explained. “You have no idea how fucking embarrassing it is to admit it, but it’s nothing but the truth. It’s not like I have any better excuse or a way to lie out of it - not one that would prevent me from being kicked out by you. I need this.”

A cackle erupted from your mouth. “What makes you so sure I wouldn’t kick you out regardless? Besides, couldn’t any of your lady friends help you out? Surely you could even hire someone to be in my position right now all the time.” You suggested.

“I have tried. I have let some of my….escorts stay longer in my bed after we first were like this. I thought it would solve my issue regardless of who the woman was but…for some strange reason, it only seems to work for you.”

“That’s pretty odd…” you muttered. “Also, ew. I swear if you haven’t taken a shower since you last were with a woman-!”

“Relax, I’m not that lazy not to care about hygiene. Not having a shower after intense, hot sex is gross for anyone who has decency.” Ransom defended himself.

Your face scrunched at Ransom’s descriptive sharing, but you quickly shrugged it off. “Well, because I’m so nice, I’ll let you stay. But don’t be mad if you get a fever. We are close enough as it is to guarantee you’ll get sick too.” You warned him.

“I’m fine with that. That just means you’ll have to take care of me.” Ransom said with a mischievous grin.

“Need I remind you I’m your housemaid? Not a nurse.”

“I’ll tell my mom to double your paycheck if you take on both jobs.” He offered with no hesitation.

“Deal.”

For the rest of the evening, you would relax in each others embrace while occasionally asking about each other. Ransom was the one who especially seemed interested in getting to know you better with his questions, everything from as simple as asking what your favorite colour was - to what your relationship with your family was like.

You had to admit you found this side of Ransom to be incredibly nice. While you talked, he would sometimes grab your hand and play with it, studying your nails which made you feel a little nervous, but he didn’t comment anything snarky.

At one point when he seemed to be more sleepy, he folded his fingertips together with yours, earning your stomach a fluttering feeling. It was so unreal you almost had paused from talking for too long. You pretended you didn’t notice his affectionate gesture and continued with your story.

Eventually he fell asleep, his light snoring confirming he wasn’t listening to your talk anymore. You turned off your light from the night stand and snuggled into his chest. It was certain you would wake up all healthy and well tomorrow. You were sure of it.

Waking up in the morning was a pleasant experience to you now that you had cleared nostrils and throat. You had finally beat the fever and were ready to get back to work. Ransom had left early the same morning, so all you had to do was eat, get dressed and head towards his house.

When you arrived, you were all but shocked at the mess you were met with after only being away for two days. There were empty whiskey bottles standing tall on the floor and by the kitchen counter. There were also stacked up plates and utensils by the kitchen sink, and used towels gathered on the armchair.

“This is going to be a long day,” you muttered under your breath.

Ransom came from the bathroom only in boxers and put a used towel on the armchair, along with the many other stacked towels. He turned to you and grinned when he saw your eyes were wandering.

“Hey sweetheart. You’re just in time. I’m hungry and could eat something that isn’t take out. Fix something up for me, will you? I stocked the fridge with plenty of things.” He informed. “Oh, and make something for yourself. We should eat lunch together this time.”

You were stunned at his expressiveness. He didn’t shout nor sound demanding. He must be in a really good mood, you thought.

Ransom turned to you once again and noticed you were still just standing there. “Well? Get a move on. The eggs don’t get fried by themselves.”

Ah, there it was.

You immediately got to work and pulled out the ingredients, heating up the oven and preparing plates at the table. At the same time, you put the used ones in the dishwasher, and brushed up dust and crumbs from the counters and floor. Multitasking at its finest.

When Ransom came back fully dressed, he was greeted by a completed set of breakfast. He eagerly rushed to the table and helped himself, just about to take the first bite, but he stopped when he noticed you weren’t there.

He shouted your name and sighed when he heard you calling back from upstairs. Quickly, he ran up and saw you were working on his laundry.

“You can do that later. I want you to join me.”

“Ransom, I have already eaten. I’m only here to work. Go ahead and enjoy yourself.” You encouraged while you separated his colored laundry with white.

“Well I’m not going to eat anything if you don’t come. How unfortunate that we have to waste so much food…”

That had you ultimately defeated. It made you groan internally that you had to oblige to this man’s childish ways of getting things his way. Though, it was also somewhat sweet that he was this desperate to have you join him.

“Fine. I’ll come, you manchild.” You finally evaluated.

“I’m not a manchild!” He defended himself, sounding quite offended.

“That’s exactly what a manchild would say.”

Neither of you talked much as you ate your portions of lunch. You would sometimes catch him looking at you, a smirk perking up his lips. You returned a simple smile, and he seemed to be pleased by it.

He munched the last piece of his sandwich and slugged against his seat, satisfied. “This was delicious. Thank you, Y/N.”

His polite expression, which he rarely used made you feel content. You had barely eaten anything, but it seemed what was most important to him was for you to be present.

He helped you clean up and put the dishes in, making the job all the more easier. You thanked him, and then you resumed your work around the house.

As usual, he lingered around the spaces you were in. To your understanding, Ransom hadn’t been out with people for a long time since the beginning of your work at his house. He would always be out for parties and come home drunk, sleeping out the hangover for the rest of the night.

For weeks he hasn’t upheld this routine. It was almost as though he had lost appeal for what he once called a lifestyle. Maybe he was looking for self approvement, you thought.

Dinner was like lunch. You made it and he asked (more like nagged) for you to join him.

After dinner, you were about to pack your bag and get yourself ready to leave when all of a sudden, Ransom approached you walking in a rather strange manner.

“Y/N….I’m feeling awfully hot right now. I need you to take me to my room.” He said as he let out heavy breaths, almost stumbling when he walked over to you.

Concern washed over you and you immediately came to his aid, having his arm around your shoulder as you led him upstairs to his bedroom.

When he laid down on the bed, you reached your hand to his forehead, almost gasping at how hot he was. “Ransom…I think you’re sick.”

“No shit.” Ransom said nonchalantly.

“Well, It’s only 07:00 PM. The pharmacy should still be open. I’ll go and buy some stuff so you can-!“

“No, that won’t be necessary.” He shrugged off. “It’s just a fever. I could need some help though because I tend to be more helpless when my mind is all dazed out.”

“Okay, well I’ll come much early in the morning then-!” You were about to suggest.

“No, wait!” He hastily interrupted again. “You could just stay here instead.”

“Ransom….”

“I…I’ll pay you to stay overtime. I really need assistance. Don’t leave me. Please…” he plastered a fake pout on his face. How could you resist him when he was pleading this much?

“Okay…just this once. But I’ll be sleeping in the guest room.” You said, slightly narrowing your eyebrow in suspicion of his reply. He reluctantly agreed and the both of you settled yourselves for sleep.

You weren’t mentally prepared for the constant literal ‘wake up calls’ from Ransom for each half hour that passed during the night.

He would come up to the guest room you were using and tell you to do things for him because he was apparently too helpless to do it himself.

“I need tea to help my sore throat.”

“I could really eat some soup right now.”

“Could you assist me taking a cold shower?”

The last one threw you off as you knew he was just being a smug bastard. His face told you as much.

You found it hard to believe a fever couldn’t put an insomniac to sleep. Then again, you knew little about the implications of insomnia, and so you didn’t question his management to stay awake.

At 03:00 AM, you heard his steps closing in to your door once again, and you immediately rose up, wanting to be done with whatever Ransom wanted you to handle.

He almost took it by surprise when he made it there and saw you standing almost half asleep. He chuckled, knowing he had dragged you through this long enough.

“You know, if you really want me to stop bothering you, you know what to do.” He said as he leaned onto the door frame.

It took you a few moments to figure out what he meant because you were so tired, but it quickly came back to mind of what he had said was the only thing that removed his insomnia. “You really are the neediest man in the whole world.” You concluded.

By the time you closed your eyes in Ransom’s embrace, you were completely knocked out. You were so tired after a long day of working, you could barely stay awake for a little. Ransom’s beating heart fell into deaf ears as your mind went in full shut down mode for the night, and you were fast asleep for the next 10 hours.

You had to agree that being in this man’s arms was incredibly comfortable. His chest while well defined with muscle was pleasantly nice to rest your head on, especially with the added layer of his soft sweater.

It was 01:00 PM when you opened your eyes for the first time since early in the morning. You almost jolted awake when you laid your eyes on the clock, not understanding how you had slept for this long. Ransom’s side of the bed was empty, which left you confused as to why he hadn’t woken you up.

You should have been working a long time ago by now. Why hadn’t he tried to shake you awake?

You walked down to the kitchen where you heard a ruckus going on from the floor of Ransom’s bedroom and when you appeared in the kitchen, you were met by absolute chaos. On the table was what looked like several failed attempts of making fried eggs with some being burned and others being undercooked. Ransom stood by the oven, having a frustrating expression on his face as he tried his best to perfect the sixth egg.

“Fuck! Why is this so hard?!” He groaned loudly to himself. You let out a giggle when you were witnessing the helpless, needy man attempting to make breakfast.

His attention turned to your form, taken aback by the fact that you were already down here.

“Give me like 5 minutes. I’m making breakfast for the two of us, but as you can see, I’m fucking struggling.” He said, and pointed to the burnt toasts on a plate beside the toaster.

You quickly rushed over to give assistance and noticed he had turned on the temperature of each kitchen asset to maximum heat, which explained why he had a hard time making fried eggs and not having the outer part completely burned by the second.

“Ransom, you should be in your room and rest. Your fever will last for at least another day before you get well.” You said as you turned off the oven and stove before you grabbed his arm to lead him back to bed.

Ransom only laughed and halted you from taking him anywhere, leaving you with a confused frown. “Am I sick though?” He asked, as if it was a trick question.

It then hit you at once. He had no major symptoms other than a hot forehead and dazed facade. “You faked it? This whole time?? But how? I literally measured your temperature and everything!”

“I have some tricks up my sleeve. Used a hot towel on my forehead before you measured my temp.” He explained.

That left you absolutely baffled how an old primary school trick had convinced you he wasn’t tricking you. “That is so cruel! Why would you even do that?” You whined, feeling embarrassed that you had put so much effort for his comfort for no good reason at all.

“Had to convince you somehow to stay with me. Wanted to treat you for breakfast in the morning but as you can see…I fucked up.” He sighed, looking back at the mess he had created at his many attempts.

“Oh…well, that’s kind of you but you really didn’t have to lie about being sick for you to make me breakfast and-!”

“I like you.” He interrupted, while he closed the large gap between the two of you.

Your mouth fell shut with his confession, desperately looking for any hint of it being a casual joke but there was none. He looked dead serious into your eyes as he let those words leave his mouth.

“W-What? This has to be a joke. I work for you, Ransom..”

He shook his head, knowing he had countless of times said a lot of awful things to you in the past because you were only ‘the help’, but he knew different now. “That doesn’t matter. I want you to give me a chance by letting me take you out for dinner. Go out with me. Please.” He plead.

You scoffed as assumptions clouded your mind with what kind of intentions he might have behind asking you out. “What, you’re that desperate to keep me within your grasp just so you can sleep better? Because that isn’t how relationships work, Ransom.”

He frowned. “Is that how you see it? You didn’t take notice of the countless times my heart would beat faster the closer you got to me? Because let me tell you, I never get anxious to any women, darling. It’s only you. The fact that I’m standing here, telling you all of this should mean something, no? You really think I’d tell anyone anything remotely close to what I’m confessing right now? How when you gave that hug the night I was being an asshole, I was on the verge of crying because I have never had anyone show as much care as you did? How every time I hold you, it’s the only time I have peace in my miserable mind?” He questioned rhetorically, not expecting an actual answer but wanting to make you understand how he feels. “I have never felt anything like this in my whole life. Your presence alone when you come to my house makes my whole day. The times I’ve spent getting to know you has been the happiest moments of my life because guess what? You actually have a place in my cold ass heart. I just - I really fucking like you.”

Your mouth was left agape at the heavy load of confessions being revealed to you. You forgot how to breathe till he reached the end of his admission, finally letting a shuttering gasp slip out as your face reddened from ear to cheeks.

Ransom didn’t blink once while he waited for your response, but of course, Ransom wasn’t one to wait for long. He pulled your shoulders forward against him and connected his lips to yours. You squealed at his sudden affectionate gesture, but gave in easily as it was too hard to resist his soft, plump lips. He hummed into the kiss as his one hand stroked your back, careful not to slip further down. He wanted to prove he was worthy of you, even though he always had a mentality of expecting others to prove worthy of him. But you were different.

He pulled away eventually and put his forehead onto yours, a smile growing on his lips. It was too genuine to be fake, you concluded in your thoughts. You swallowed and reached a hand to his cheek which he seemed to melt into.

“Why do you have to be this sweet despite being an annoying nag otherwise?”

“I’ll take that instead of ‘asshole’ and ‘trust fund prick’ any time.” He chuckled. “How about you make us breakfast and I’ll treat you to a nice dinner in the evening?”

You pondered playfully, tapping your index finger on your chin as you pretended to think. “Hmmm, I don’t know. Am I really more than just a housemaid if I’m still doing the usual stuff of making you food?”

His signature smirk reappeared on his face as he said: “Still not convinced? Because I think I can find a thing or two to do in the bedroom to show you how much I like you.”

You giggled and lightly placed your hand on his chest. He was right. It was hammering.

“How about we take it slow and keep it at cuddles and kisses for now?”

“Of course. That sounds perfect.”

Note from author: felt like going for just pure fluff this time because I needed it. Need an occasional break from the filth. Soft!Ransom is my biggest comfort ngl. Also I’ve just made it canon in my head that Ransom is a playboy who parties a lot (mostly to fill the void of loneliness).

Hearts & Reblogs are appreciated! <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale #chris evans #chris evans x reader #cevans characters #chris evans character fanfiction

2K notes · View notes