Do y’all know what we’re missing in the Overlord Husk AU genre?
A fic (or fics ; 3 ) where Angel goes to Overlord Husk himself to get free from Valentino.
Imagine: Angel is fed up with Valentino, the studio, the clients, the whole Valentino & Vox thing, the entirety of the Vee’s operation.
So one day, after he gets off work, Angel disguises himself, expertly swipes a pack of cards from Husk’s casino as he walks in, sweet talks his way into learning what room Husker’s in, sneaks his way into a meeting with Husker.
He takes off bits of his disguise, You know who I am?
Doesn’t everyone, kid? Your face is plastered everywhere.
Angel grins, Most everyone, but never hurts to ask.
Angel starts shuffling the deck and Husk thinks Angel wants to play a round, but Angel’s playing an entirely different game.
He tells Husker what he knows about him, his casino, how he plays in soul contracts. Doesn’t bother with his sob story, Husker knows who he is, he can put the pieces together himself. Angel pulls out the King of Hearts from the deck.
You’re the King of Souls, baby.
And what? You’re trying to become my Queen? Because I’m not interested-
No, don’t be silly, Sweetheart, I wanna be your ace.
Husk raises an eyebrow, mildly interested.
Angel starts dealing out cards for a round of poker.
Do you realize how many people can’t shut up after a night with me? It’s like their brain turns to mush or something and they can’t remember why they shouldn’t be talking ‘bout certain stuff. I know things about Overlords and their operations and their right hands and their subordinates, etc etc that no one else does.
Husker stares at Angel. He’s considering everything he’s heard.
Husk flips over his cards, he has a pair of Kings.
I can get you any information you seek, help you with expansion, provided additional in-house appeal. I can make you so much money, bring in so much business, make sure you always have the right cards to play, all you have to do…
Angel flips over his hand to show a pair of aces.
is win my soul.
Husker grins at him, thrilled by the game and intrigued by the proposal.
Angel grins back.
Do we have a deal?
And then later they fall in love, he frees Angel, and they become THE power couple of hell 💋
Since it's been a year... I give you my latest installment. A little self-conscious with this chapter but I hope I got it right. Let me know what you think. I’d like to thank Victoria Monet’s ‘Cadillac’ for the inspiration for this chapter.
Summary | A bad breakup lands you in the office of Dr. Curtis Everett, who seeks to help you further at the request of your local therapist, due to his renowned talent in his niche profession.
Cameras flash, voices carrying over each other to get your attention. Curtis’ fingers are intertwined with yours, leading you through the small path allotted by security from the restaurant to the waiting car. The act of your hand in his own shouldn’t elicit such a reaction but the understanding that you’ve been touch starved more than you are willing to admit makes you grip his hand tighter.
He wastes no time opening the door for you, closing it while more people shout his name, the lights from the cameras lighting up the car.
“Fuckin’ vultures,” Curtis mutters when he finally gets in, looking at your face. “You alright?”
“I thought they’d be gone by now,” you admit, pressing your hand to your heart to feel your heart beating rapidly. “Does that happen every time you go out?”
“Only when I have a date so, no,” Curtis allows with a wink. “You ready to go?”
At your nod, he accelerates, the car shooting forward as he takes a tight turn, the velocity making you laugh as he heads toward the freeway.
“We’ll be home soon.”
You don’t admit how that makes your stomach flutter at the sound, especially since you know that it isn’t your home he’s mentioning.
-
When he helps you out of the car, he gives you a spin, letting you go before he closes the door behind you. Holding out his hand, you take it, Curtis leading you up the steps of his house.
Every single house looks like it could have been taken out of a magazine, an architect’s dream as you slightly look back, careful of your steps as you go up the stairs slowly. More importantly, you’re aware of he holds your hand in his own, his fingers warm against your own.
When he opens the door, your mouth parts in surprise, the entry like a bridge to the living room, a pond underneath the bridge.
“A pond?” you ask, Curtis standing behind you as you take a step forward to look. “How…”
“It was a surprise to me too when I saw the plans.”
When you get closer, koi fish swim to the surface as you lean over to look.
“A little surprise from my architect at the time. I take good care of these guys,” Curtis says.
“Incredible.”
You can feel his eyes on you when you finally look at him as he nods for you to continue on. Going over the bridge, he’s behind you, your hands nearly touching when you glide your palms on the rails.
“It’s very fancy.”
“I’m more of a minimalist but they’re a nice touch,” he agrees, motioning to the right. “Kitchen is that way.”
Stainless steel appliances and black lacquered cabinets await you, everything carefully decorated when he turns on the light, taking off his shoes in a swift move, padding into the kitchen.
“Pick your poison,” he offers, heading to the built-in wet bar.
“I’ll have a scotch, please.”
“Scotch,” Curtis says with a raise of his eyebrow. “I would have taken you for a gin sort.”
“Gin?”
“Sophisticated. Architects have a way about them.”
“Like what?” you inquire, Curtis handing you your drink as he raises his to yours. The glasses clink slightly before he answers you.
“Complex without being overbearing.”
You take a sip, Curtis following suit.
“Complex,” you repeat. “That’s now how I would describe myself.”
“Then you’re not giving yourself enough credit. Complex doesn’t need to have a negative connotation. Everything about you is complex because you don’t outwardly offer your feelings.”
“I think I’ve been pretty open.”
He laughs at your comment, nodding in agreement.
“But the treatment that I offered, that was complex. Broke a few of my own set rules but it worked. You’re a complex woman and I find that insanely sexy.”
You swallow the last of your drink, seeing him take another sip.
“It’s a good thing that I was cured then. You won’t have to break any more of your rules,” you add, seeing him set down his glass.
“How would you know what other rules I’d be willing to break?”
Your mouth goes dry at his question, licking your lips as he cages you against the wall.
“I was guessing.”
“Hmm,” he replies, his eyes gazing at your body. “There’s only one way to find out. Can I touch you?”
You nod, almost too furiously for your good when he lowers himself down, his hands at your hips, his fingers sliding down the fabric of your dress and down to your bare skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with you, hands slipping under your dress as he pulls the fabric up.
He leans in, kissing your thighs, your own hands rolling into fists as he inches closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs. You can feel his breath, warm and dangerously close when he leans in, keeping you steady when his tongue finds your covered clit, applying just enough pressure for you to whimper.
“Satin is a nice touch,” he tells you, slipping thumbs under the band. “I wouldn’t want to ruin such a pretty pair but I need to see what I’ve been dreaming about.”
He pulls them down slowly, letting them pool at your feet, carefully lifting up each leg so that you’re finally free. The urge to hide from him, to hold your dress in place is overwhelming.
There is a hunger – a desire – in his eyes that you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.
You’re exposed to him, but it doesn’t matter, your eyes on his arms flexing when his thumb slowly swipes against your clit, back and forth until your hips move forward.
“Easy,” he warns gently, tasting you as you swallow hard. “Just like I thought. Amazing.”
You aren’t prepared for how his mouth feels, wet and hot as he’s gentle, learning you centimeter by centimeter, your fingernails scoring against his scalp. Your breath halts when his tongue laves over your clit, over and over until you forget to breathe again.
“You okay?”
Nodding, your head falls back against the wall when you feel his fingers ease up inside you.
Stretching, caressing keeping time with the tempo of his mouth on your clit.
“C…”
There’s no use in trying to finish saying his name, your hands holding him in place as he brings you to the brink, your legs buckling before you feel him hold you up as you shatter.
“One so far,” he says, looking up at you with a sly smile. “We’re barely getting started.”
He stands up fluidly, your boldness peaking when you pull on his shirt to bring him closer.
“One of how many?” you ask, seeing his devious smile.
“That depends,” he replies. “How many do you want to give me?”
There’s no set number in your mind, only the want – need – to have him that propels you forward, your lips on his, tasting yourself that only spurns you to kiss him deeper as he takes control, his hand at the side of your neck, breaking the kiss to turn your head slightly, drawing your skin into his mouth as he sucks it gently but deep enough that you can feel the sweet pressure and sends shockwaves down to your belly.
“I’ll give you a choice,” he says, breaking the kiss. “Dress on or off before you go upstairs.”
You’ve never been exposed like this before, especially knowing the only thing you’ll be wearing are your heels.
Whatever you choose, you’ll know he’ll accept without question. The freedom to decide how you’ll end up in his bed may be insignificant to him – though you hope not – it feels freeing to know that he’s letting you make the decision.
Turning around, you hear it: the slight suck in of his breath, looking over your shoulder as your eyes plead silently for him to help you.
“Bold move,” he praises, his fingers unzipping your dress.
As it slips down your shoulders, his lips brush against the tops of your shoulders and at the back of your neck when it pools at your feet.
“Absolutely unreal,” Curtis says, taking your hand as he turns you around in a circle, his appreciative gaze making you even wetter than you thought possible.
“Up the stairs and to the left,” Curtis directs. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Every step you take, your insecurities come racing back. Despite every body being a good body, you’re aware of your own shortcomings, the ones you see in the mirror when the confident façade slips. You’re aware of how your hips sway, certain imperfections that you can only imagine will be amplified with you only wearing your black stilettos.
“You look absolutely perfect,” he says behind you, as if he’s reading your mind.
“I’ve never been this… exposed,” you whisper in the darkness, Curtis right behind you as you can feel his arousal, cradled right between your ass.
“I guessed since tt’s taking you a while to get up the stairs. Not that I’m complaining in the slightest,” he assures you, kissing your cheek. “But you’re going to kill me with that perfect view.”
A slight tap of his hand against your ass makes you involuntarily moan, gripping the banister for a moment as you look back at him.
“You’re dripping,” he says, his eyes wandering between your thighs. “Making a nice mess if I do say so myself.”
You finally reach the top of the stairs, the cool air doing nothing to stop the ache between your legs when you make the left toward his room. You’ll marvel at the work of his upstairs when you’re not thinking about how you’re going to get wrecked, Curtis pushing the door open for you as you step into his room.
Black silk sheets.
“It’s not fair, you know,” you finally say, turning your body to face him. “I’m the only one underdressed.”
“I don’t think I’d look as good as you do,” Curtis answers you, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “But I can oblige if you want.”
“I want to help.”
His hands lower to his sides, letting you take over to finish unbuttoning his shirt, your hands resting on his chest. Tattoos are etched on his chest, your fingers outlining them as you trail down, unbuckling his belt as you see his Adam’s apple bob, perspiration on his forehead.
“Am I going too slow?”
“You take all the time you need.”
His voice pulls at your core, hands deftly ridding him of his belt and then buttoning his slacks. He’s hard as a rock when you accidently brush against him, his composure strong as steel when you pull down his boxers and pants. His cock springs free, long and thick, your eyes dropping down to look at it appreciatively. Gone are the thoughts of finishing getting him undressed, your hand reaching out to touch him gently, fingers wrapping around the length of him, his eyes closing in response.
“How can you be so calm,” you whisper against him. “I can’t believe I’m…”
Pre-cum makes your grip slicker, his head tilting up as you kiss his throat, his hands going to your face as he kisses you, kicking off his pants. He walks you toward the bed, stopping right when you can feel the bed behind you.
When you reach to take the heels off, he shakes his head.
“I meant what I said. Heels on until I say so.”
-
He prides himself on self-control. He’s lasted this long with his wits about him, to know that patience is always much sweeter but he knows he can’t wait much longer when your sweet voice pitches as your thighs try to close together, his hands gripping them so you don’t use them as his earmuffs.
All he can think about is how gorgeous you look when you come apart - three times now - just by where he touches, learning your body as you react to his touch. Your lips are parted, chest rising and falling as your hands cover your breasts. It’s laughable for a moment if it wasn’t so excruciatingly painful how badly he wants to be inside you. Your legs are still over his shoulders, Curtis caressing your calves before he looks back at your swollen cunt.
“I’m not going to get enough of how good you taste.”
Your eyes are half lidded, mouth moving but no sound coming out when he carefully eases you off of him, gently removing your heels as they fall to the ground. He kisses your brow, your hands going to his neck to keep him in place.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he admits, his cock nestled between your legs.
“I need you,” you mouth, kissing him deeply and he swears your legs are opening wider when he reaches for the drawer. “I want to just feel you. I’m clean.”
You’re bartering, his smile against your lips as you kiss him again. You’re uninhibited, vulnerable and the progress you’ve made makes him greedy, a flash of possessive that he shuts out when he kisses down your neck.
“Me too but it’s still dangerous,” he warns gently, seeing you shake your head slowly, nodding to your arm.
“Implant. You can’t leave a legacy,” you tease, your eyes closing in bliss when he’s cradled against your entrance. “I want you, I’ve tried to ignore it but -”
That’s all he needs, inching slowly inside you as your fingernails score his back. You’re tight, wet and hot, gritting his teeth as he tries to maintain what shreds of composure he has left, reaching the hilt of you when you left out a soft whimper.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No,” you murmur. “Just…”
“Big?”
He can tell you want to laugh at his joke but he knows the truth, seeing you finally relax before you urge him to move. You’re like a vise, his control slipping with every single thrust, your soft little noises urging him on.
He needs to see ore of you, rolling you onto your side, your thigh on his hip as the new angle makes your mouth drop open, exposing you in a way that makes your fingers give him better access.
You’re close, he can feel the way your silky walls squeeze him tighter, your incessant pleas for him not to stop only urging him on. He commits the way your pretty face looks to memory, knowing that you’ve fundamentally changed how he sees you – how your body reacts to him – and how freely you’ve given yourself to him.
“Fuck,” he grits out, keeping you in place as he cums, filling you as you cling to him.
“Oh god, I… oh, I…” you pant, not letting him go. “I can’t see straight.”
“We’re not done,” he promises, smoothing back your hair as he holds you close. “Not by a long shot, four.”
“Five,” you whisper against his lips, closing your eyes.
-
Your eyes are barely open when you feel the slight dip in the bed, a glass of water in front of you.
“You need to drink something,” Curtis reminds you softly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I ran you a nice bath. Just waiting for you.”
“What time is it?”
“Two or three,” he answers, kissing your cheek.
“Mmm,” you mumble, eyes closing again. “I’ll get up if you come with me.”
I absolutely LOVE overlord!Husk AUs where he wins Angel's soul from Valentino in a poker game or whatever. They're cute and filled with good drama and everything BUT the number one (1) complaint I have for all of them (and if I'm being honest most Huskerdust fics in general) is that y'all aren't making Angel violent and unhinged enough. Like bro was in the mafia growing up! He's a trigger happy menace to society that'll beat a bitch is ass if they disrespect him or his friends. And what's more: Husk is INTO that! The only fic I've seen (so far) to come close to that dynamic is Lucky Bastard by poppyfieldart on ao3. Like again don't get me wrong I love me a good soft Huskerdust but also y'all have to stop making Angel out to be this uwu soft bean/damsel in distress that needs to be rescued. Instead of having Husk fight for him why not have them both fight side by side, supporting each other. Give me Overlord Husk who swoons over Angel beating motherfuckers who harass him! Overlord Husk being horrendously down bad over Angel in a pretty dress and a gun in each hand as he ruthlessly mows down a group of would be gangsters trying to encroach on Husk's turf! I NEED ANGEL DUST VIOLENT AND UNHINGED!!! 👏👏👏
Both Angel and Husk are used to violence but I do think that Angel has an even closer relationship to it because of his upbringing. It's a bit of nostalgia even. He didn't necessary needed to use these skills while working in the porn studio but once he is free it's all coming back to him.
I definitely plan on letting him loose some more in my fic hahaxddd
“Grumpy,” Angel leaned forward till their foreheads touched. He felt Husk push against his head a little like the cat that he was. Angel decided that he never wanted to leave this bathroom. They will just have to die in here. (- Lucky Bastard, Chapter 6, a huskerdust fic on AO3)
The first time Gojo casually mentioned that you had "breeding hips", Kento cringed, his lips curling as a vile little edge of scorn rotted his voice.
"She's not an animal, Gojo. If you're going to speak casually about her, don't be such a crass little boy about it."
Gojo scoffed, his hands behind his head as he rocked back in his chair. "Shut up, like you haven't noticed it too. You know, childbearing hips. I don't think less of her. They're just so..." Gojo raised his hands in front of his face, making an undulating hourglass motion, and whistled, low and sultry; "...just so, damn." Kento felt a trickle of heat down the back of his neck, his chilly rage at your demeaning objectification tinged by something different now.
Once he noticed your breeder's hips (leaving a filthy taste in Kento's mouth, disgusted by himself for even thinking it), he began to function less, and less, and less. The primal little core of him had latched on, sinking Kento with it.
The way you'd pootle to a classroom with stacks of books under one arm, balanced on your hip. Your spine curved, but only barely, your in-out-in easily handling the load.
The way you wandered around the staff summer party, floating on clouds in your sundress, with Ijichi's little niece sat upon your hip, her legs wrapped around your waist. You laughed, twirling her in the dappled sun; effortless. Beautiful. Serene. Kento wondered if you'd look even more divine, with his child upon your waist.
The way you bopped a door closed with an arching sideways flick, hands-free, the most natural thing in the world.
God, how he dreamed of them; sinking his teeth into his pillow, a moaning mess through his peak, bucking creamy white drips into his fist. Just imagining the plush solid weight of them, how he knew he'd be able to slam into you with total abandon without crushing you beneath his strength. What a drug.
The way you complained to Shoko that any jeans big enough to fit your hips snugly, hung loose at the waist. When Shoko suggested something altogether skinnier and more elastic, a forced conformity to the 'outsize' shape of you, a bead of sweat dripped down Kento's chest. He found himself seething, outraged that fashion trends did not admire the soft-sculpt animated artwork of you, like he did.
The way you tried to squeeze through a small gap, and laughed, blushing when you got stuck. Kento offered to free you, with trembling hands, and could have fainted with joy to feel the iliac crests of your hips arch against the side of his palms, his strong fingers looped around your nipped waist. You felt it, too, then, mistaking his fracturing self-control for disgust.
The way you diminished, trying to disguise your shape instead of enjoying it. You tried to deflate, dressing in loose and baggy clothes, the memory of Kento's hands on your hips and the way he scowled, haunting you every time you looked in the mirror.
He picked you up for work one day, and you cringed in your seat when he pressed your hip slightly aside, buckling the seat-belt for you.
"God, sorry." You laughed, squirming and trying to shrink yourself. Kento grunted, his hands white-knuckled on the wheel, anything to distract himself from those 'breeding hips' gracing his seat. Kento cleared his throat.
"What for, exactly?" You faltered. You were used to apologising for your body, but not explaining it. Kento let you do neither. His voice rumbled through you, gently scolding.
"In the most respectful possible way," Kento mused aloud, "you have nothing to be ashamed of, with your...your hips." Kento swallowed thickly. "They are...natural. And suit you. And just because society makes you feel outcast or outsized, it doesn't mean society is right."
You looked at Kento in a new light, allowing yourself the luxury of admiring him in completion, as you had stopped yourself from doing with the fear of his disgust. You reached over, slowly tugging the sleeve of his suit jacket.
"...and in the most disrespectful possible way?"
Kento made a strangled, animalistic noise in the base of his throat, stalling the car at the traffic lights. He sat, ramrod straight, sweating like a virgin.
"...dont." He warned, his voice throaty and dangerous. "Don't."
Oh, but Kento we must. Tell us what you think of our hips in the most disrespectful way. Preferably whispered into our ear whilst you touch the subject matter at hand 🫦
I’m going to be more aware of all the door booping I do and pootling around carrying stuff on my hip more than ever now. Also pootle is a favourite word of mine cause it just sounds so pleasingly cute. 😆
You know how there is a piece in Fragile where Bucky meets an Omega who works at the foundation for Omegas?
Here we are with a larger Fragile universe.
It begins.
Two
Dark Alpha! Bucky Barnes x Omega! Female Reader
Word Count: 3.9K
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Alpha/Omega dynamics, coercion, a little bit of world building, threats, a heavy make out session.
Summary | They always say never meet your heroes. Bucky makes you feel differently.
They arrive in a line of black SUVs, something Carmen remarks as funny, seeing as they are so powerful that it doesn’t make sense for them to have an armored guard to escort them. You’ve been quiet since the Omega had slipped out the door with the emergency suppressants, wanting to look up her file despite knowing the code of anonymity. She looked scared and for a moment, you were scared for her, seeing relief flood her face when you handed the pack of pills over.
“I meant to ask you,” Carmen says, watching the SUVs come to a stop. “That picture you had yesterday. I finally remember who that was.”
“Who was it?”
“I saw her on TV! She’s an advisor for the International Diplomacy Committee. Heavy stuff,” Carmen informs you with a knowing nod. “No wonder her and Thor didn’t last. I think I saw her in London one day and then Brazil the next. Someone must have been a fan of her and Thor.”
“Yeah,” you mumble, seeing the car doors open.
“Where did you find the picture?”
“On the floor. I think someone dropped it.”
“Huh,” Carmen hums, following behind you. “Kinda creepy, whoever was holding onto such a personal photo.”
“Right?” you agree, Constance motioning for you both to come forward as Tony Stark steps out, surveying the property. “Weird.”
🍷
“So I assume this is where all my tax write offs lie?” Tony inquires, Constance keeping up with his stride. “I have to say, I’m impressed. Looks like Pepper found a good cause to sink all my money into.”
“We’ve been very grateful for your donations, Mr. Stark,” Constance replies. “I cannot tell you how many countless lives we’ve saved.”
“Not to worry, Pepper crunched the numbers for me. Over five hundred Omegas saved from abusive homes, one hundred and twenty that have gone on to find stable employment, thirty-five that have given birth at this facility with a one hundred percent maternal success rate. You’re damn good, Constance. You and your team should be proud.”
Constance preens at the praise, looking back at you and Carmen as she gives you a proud smile. Carmen nudges you in the side for you to straighten up, Constance clearing her throat as she continues forward.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“No need to call me Sir. I’d be interested to see your surveillance and security systems. I imagine that there may be times when a wayward Alpha tends to wander. Never a bad thing to have some sort of security.”
“We have on-site guards. Betas of course, so there is no conflict of interest.”
“Betas?” you hear Bucky chime in, looking over your shoulder as he and Steve stand near the SUVs. Steve looks casual but still polished in a pair of dark slacks, black polished shoes and a gray button down, his hair slicked back and his eyes shielded by aviators. Still, you get a little bit of a chill at the way he doesn’t smile like you’re used to, Bucky leaning in to tell him something.
“Betas,” Steve repeats. “Why not Alphas? What sort of conflict of interest are we talking about, Constance?”
“I don’t mean any ill will of course, Captain Rogers,” Constance says quickly, her steps pausing to answer his question. “We… we had an Omega who was here once. She was looking for sanctuary and her Alpha… well, he broke through and as you know, Alpha commands are forbidden in this safe zone but she was taken out of our care, unfortunately.”
Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky, Carmen meeting your nervous gaze.
You remember that day. Constance had all but drilled the information into your brain to have confidentiality and the safety of Omegas as your utmost duty. The receptionist who had faltered, given into the Alpha’s commands and had given him the key, had broken the trust that the foundation had worked so hard to build. There was no record of her, no record of who took her, the security footage wiped clean, and the Omega so swiftly removed from her position that it was almost a sin to mention her name.
“I remember that,” Steve says quietly, his tone full of sorrow. “Poor, frightening, I’m sure she was terrified, especially in such a delicate state. I’d hate to impose a different rule so if Betas work, then by all means continue.”
“I’m sorry to touch on such a sensitive subject, Captain Rogers,” Constance apologies, Tony looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow before he clears his throat.
“Tell me more about the housing. Pepper said there are temporary units and sometimes more permanent?” Stark asks, leading Constance away. “Cap, Barnes, I’m sure these two lovely ladies would love to take you all back to the office.”
There’s a screech of an SUV, the door opening and then slamming closed, a young woman running toward Steve and Bucky, her heels pounding the pavement. She’s put together in a navy skirt, white silk shirt and matching blazer but her expression is hurried, her brows furrowing at the scene in front of her.
“Where is he going? Mr. Stark! Where is he going?”
“Relax,” Bucky says gently. “He’s going for a little tour and we’re heading back to the office.”
Judging by how she immediately complies, you guess she is an Omega, her curt nod and steely gaze following Constance and Tony. It’s obvious she was late as she looks down at her phone, her embarrassment is only made worse when Steve looks at his watch.
“A little late, aren’t you? You put this together,” Steve informs her. “Where’s Thor?”
“He’s in the office with Doctor Banner. We were held up in traffic. Mr. Barton unfortunately was held up with another mission and was delayed so he will not be joining.”
“That’s Barton for you,” Steve says with a smile, turning his attention to you and Carmen. “Well, since it appears Tony’s looking over the housing units and we’ve got some time to kill, might as well make the most of our time.”
Steve extends his hand to you and you shake it firmly, Bucky’s gaze settling on you.
“We meet again,” Steve greets you. “I heard Bucky got that dance.”
“I did,” Bucky says, stepping closer to you as there’s a text alert goes off on Steve’s phone, his attention pulling away from the group while Bucky shakes Carmen’s hand and lingers a little when he holds your own in his hand. His thumb rubs against your wrist for a moment, your heart fluttering at the sensation when Carmen interrupts, taking a step forward.
“You must be the Avengers’ publicist,” Carmen says brightly to the young woman. “I’m Carmen, I’m Constance’s executive secretary. Please, follow me.”
“You don’t know how hard it’s been to get them all in the same place,” the young woman grouses, Bucky and you following with Steve bringing up the rear. “There’s this whole thing with the Accords, the International Diplomatic Council fiasco that I’m still trying to get a hold on and now this.”
“Diplomatic Council? Sounds serious.”
“It is!” the young woman emphasizes, sighing dramatically. “I’m so sorry, where are my manners. I’m Natalie. It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you as well.”
“In answer to your question, with the realms and worlds division being created, there have been some… rather unpleasant discussions with how we look to our world as a whole and the universe. Obviously there are now intergalactic rules at play and that doesn’t seem to bode well with recent events.”
When Carmen gives her a blank stare, Natalie forges on, looking back at you and Bucky before continuing.
“I’m concerned that we are here not just for a photo op but for something else,” she whispers. “Thor was very adamant that we come here and he gave no reason why. As you can see, it is a great opportunity for the Avengers to be here. They do care about this facility and the foundation means a great deal.”
“Will Miss Romanoff be here?”
“No,” Natalie replies. “She was also delayed on a mission with Mr. Barton but she sends her regards.”
🍷
Bucky’s arm brushes against yours and you can’t help but look up at him as he smiles.
“I bet you’re sick of us already.”
“No,” you deny quickly. “Not at all, it’s exciting that the Avengers are here. We don’t get that many visits except when Captain Rogers drops by.”
“Hopefully we’ll be in and out and you can get back to your day.”
He’s close enough that you can scent him, cedar and sandalwood with a hint of spearmint when you look down at your shoes.
“I like the visits,” you admit, Bucky slowing his steps.
“What did you say?”
“I like your visits,” you say louder, Carmen nearly looking over her shoulder before she continues on.
You know it feels silly, his smile and scent making you act like a schoolgirl as your hands brush against each other again.
“I was wondering,” Bucky continues, holding out his arm for you to take it. “When this little photo op is over, if you would like to join me for lunch.”
“Oh,” you respond, feeling heat flood into your face. “I… I would like that.”
“Me too. We can go anywhere you like. I admit I’m not familiar with this city but I’m sure you’re able to share some suggestions. I’ll go anywhere you like.”
Your mind races with various places you’ve been to, trying to think of a place that is casual but doesn’t scream first date because it isn’t a date, even if you foolishly would like it to be.
“Sure,” you say after a beat. “I’ll pick a place.”
“Bucky,” Steve says behind him. “You go on ahead. I need to handle something.”
Bucky nods and keeps going, your eyes facing forward when Bucky’s words come back to haunt you. Whatever it is, you don’t want to know, Bucky cradling your arm in his as he helps you up the steps.
“Would you like something to drink?” you ask, seeing his face brighten.
“Sure. Thank you.”
“Of course. I hope iced tea is okay.”
“Iced tea is just fine.”
You don’t see Carmen, Natalie or the rest of the Avengers yet, turning the corner to head into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you pull out the pitcher of iced tea, grabbing a glass and filling it to the brim when Carmen rushes over to you, the glass pitcher slamming onto the counter. Your heels scrape against the linoleum, Carmen pinning you to the wall.
“What?” you demand, seeing her finger placed on her lips. “What happened?”
“Where did you get that picture?” Carmen demands. “You told me you found it.”
Looking over her shoulder, you see no one, Carmen saying your name forcefully with gritted teeth.
“It was given to me,” you answer her, seeing her shake her head.
“You told me you found it.”
“What’s going on?”
Carmen sighs, letting you go as she paces.
“Who gave you the picture?”
You can tell this isn’t the time for lies, Carmen’s face so close to yours that your noses are almost touching.
“An Omega gave it to me.”
“Was it the one in the picture?”
You nod quickly, Carmen muttering a curse under her breath before she
“You lied to me,” she hisses angrily.
“What is going on?”
“He knows she was here,” Carmen says, pointing to the door. “He’s asking for the security footage.”
“Please. I heard you and Carmen help.”
“I can’t,” you whisper back. “It’s against the rules. You need a prescription.”
“Come on,” the Omega pleads. “Listen, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I just was told that my ex-boyfriend wants me back and I can’t do that, I can’t -”
“It’s against the rules,” you repeat. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could help.”
“You can. You just don’t want to.”
“That’s not true,” you protest softly, seeing her sweep her gaze again through the empty lobby. “I’m sure your trip will be just fine.”
“No,” she answers. “It won’t. You know Captain Roger’s wife?”
“Of course I do.”
“She wasn’t like that before,” the Omega informs her. “She was over surveillance. The best they had.”
“Are you listening to me? Did she tell you where she went? She’s not here, I checked the sign-in sheet and the logs while they were talking to their publicist.”
“No,” you respond quickly. “She just told me she was leaving.”
“Why did she come here?”
“I don’t know,” you answer her, hating that you feel like you have to keep the truth from Carmen. You’ve never hidden anything from her before, nor Constance, but the fear in the Omega’s eyes made you want to keep her secret.
Avenger’s ex-girlfriend or not.
“Are you lying to me again?”
“No,” you shoot back. “She showed up and then left. I don’t know what she was looking for.”
Carmen relaxes for a moment, looking over her shoulder to make sure the coast is clear.
“We stick to this story. She probably was here but she didn’t stay. It happens all the time here. No one saw her, save for an unnamed intern who didn’t see her leave until she was halfway down the steps,” Carmen tells you, your head nodding in agreement.
“What about the security footage?”
“I’ll delete it.”
“It’s against the rules,” you protest, Carmen glaring at you.
“We do what we have to do.”
🍷
Truthfully, you’ve never seen the Avenger up close and personal. He’s deep in conversation with Captain Rogers, who is listening as the Asgardian speaks in a hushed tone. He’s taller than you ever imagined, roped muscles under the white shirt and black blazer, his arms flexing as he crosses his arms at something Steve tells him. He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for conversation, let alone an introduction that you are thankful that you don’t have to do.
Natalie turns around from her conversation with the photographer, giving you a wide smile. The dizzying scents from the various Alphas makes you close your eyes and breathe slowly to center yourself for a moment.
“There you are. Sorry for the delay, there was some sort of security surveillance question that needed to be figured out and we couldn’t continue until someone was satisfied,” Natalie mutters, looking in Thor’s direction, her tone changing to cheerful. “I think we’re almost ready now. Bucky said to include you in the photo and we would love to. Constance thought it was a great idea.”
“Me?”
“Of course,” Natalie replies, scrolling through her phone. “I’ll send you the photo release form and please make sure you have it back to me by end of day. It’s a compliment, you know? Having an Omega front and center will do wonders. Do you have social media? We can authorize you to use it as a photo as well.”
You blink in confusion, a woman standing next to a makeup chair motioning to you.
“Now?”
“Yes, now,” Natalie responds with a wink. “It’ll be quick.”
Still, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you when you’re finally placed between Steve and Tony, Bucky flanking Steve on the left and Thor on the right of Tony, Doctor Banner nodding in approval while he stands behind the camera.
It’s over quickly, just as Natalie predicted, Steve back on his phone as he leaves the group, Bucky noticing your concerned stare.
“I’ve never seen him like that either,” Bucky says, your gaze sheepishly going to the ground. “He’s got cameras everywhere. Probably a neighbor.”
“Oh.”
You don’t want to pry, remembering Bucky’s warning.
“Sometimes Fury likes to drop by unannounced. So,” Bucky continues with a pause. “Have you figured out where we’re going for lunch?”
“Barnes,” a deep voice interrupts, Thor heading toward you. “I’d like a moment with your friend.”
Bucky introduces you quickly, naming off your accomplishments as Thor nods, hearing you but not taking it all in as he finally speaks, his ice blue eyes looking right into yours.
“I had a question for you, and it looks like you may be my only hope. A girl came here,” Thor informs you, showing you his phone, a picture of her smiling as she’s cradled in Thor’s arms, his cape wrapped around her. “Heimdall confirmed she was here, and I can still scent her. It’s faint but I know her scent well. Did you happen to see her?”
“She doesn’t look familiar to me,” you reply softly with a slow shake of your head.
“How is it no one from this facility noticed her? How is it she came in here undetected and left?” Thor demands, your head dipping at his angry tone, Bucky stepping in front of you.
“She said she didn’t see her.”
“I don’t need you to answer for her, Barnes. I want an answer from her own mouth. Heimdall has no reason to lie.”
“We still have the cameras to check,” Bucky reminds him.
“Cameras be damned, I want to know why she was here. The council was going to approve the measure and she was nowhere to be found. It isn’t a coincidence that she just disappeared. I know my girl and she is very smart and very convincing. I want to know the truth.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Bucky snaps, his posture straightening. “Go find Steve and check the cameras. Have proof before you accuse her.”
“Very well,” Thor shoots back, giving you a curt nod before he turns to leave.
The breath you didn’t know you were holding exhales loudly, Bucky’s hand on your shoulder as he rubs it gently.
“I’m sorry about Thor,” he apologizes. “He’s been on edge for a few weeks.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sure you would have told him the truth if you would have seen her,” Bucky tells you, his smile so genuine that you bite back the guilt that builds in your belly. “I know you wouldn’t lie.”
Against your better judgement, you force a smile.
“Thank you.”
You don’t dare glance at Thor and Steve when Bucky offers you his arm again.
“Should we get out of here?”
You don’t hesitate to take his arm, moving away from the two Alphas who are discussing something you hope they never find.
🍷
The SUV moves down the highway, your attention fully focused on looking out at the coastline. The café you’ve picked isn’t too far but the food is good, with a comfort food feel that means the menu has plenty of options. Swallowing down your nervousness, the excitement of being near Bucky Barnes overtakes your senses, pulling down your skirt as he looks in your direction.
“You still shook up over the Asgardian?” he asks.
Shaking your head no, he sighs in relief.
“Never seen him get that worked up before. I guess when you find that special person, they can make you go a little crazy.”
At your silence, he clears his throat. His pheromones are making your mouth water, licking your lips when his cell vibrates in his pocket. He answers it quickly, giving you time to pull yourself together. It makes no sense how quickly he overwhelms your senses, your fingers going to wrist where he had applied his scent.
“No surveillance footage? None?” he questions, raising a curious brow. “Did we check with Constance? They have the cameras on twenty-four seven. No. She’s with me, she’s safe. She told me the truth.”
You don’t make a reaction to what he’s saying, your fingers curling into a nervous fist at your side.
“Check with Constance. If Heimdall wasn’t able to find her then that’s Thor’s problem, not ours. I know. Got it. Bye.”
Bucky places his phone back in his pocket, scoffing for a second.
“The security cameras,” he begins, his voice mild. “Are they always on?”
“They should be.”
“Interesting. There’s a whole section where it’s just blank. Who mans the desk usually?”
“Me or one of the other girls. We have rotations.”
“Odd that the footage is missing. Something isn’t adding up.”
Your uneasy tone makes him reach for your hand, holding it tight when he brings it up to his lips, kissing your wrist softly as you let out a quiet sigh.
“You’re worried. Do you know if there was someone else who could have seen her?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
He leans closer to you.
“Before this blows into something bigger, can I count on you to make some inquires of the others who do the rotations?”
“Is she… is she in danger?”
Bucky hesitates for a moment, your hand still in his.
“Out there all alone without an Alpha, possibly in a foreign country without any back up, I have no way of knowing if she is or isn’t. But Thor isn’t just a friend from work, he’s part of our team and we look out for each other.”
“I didn’t realize they were still together.”
“He was trying to make amends,” Bucky says quietly, kissing your wrist again gently. “I’m sure you can understand why it means so much to him to find her.”
“Y-Yes,” you whisper, Bucky cupping your cheek.
“Good girl,” he says, his warm breath against your lips. “I can count on you, can’t I?”
When he kisses you, his lips soft on your own, your fingers reach for his jacket to steady yourself, head heady with his scent, your heartbeat thumping when he deepens the kiss. Time suspends when he scents you, skin to skin, the blood rushing through your ears, your name on his lips when he comes up for air, delving back in to taste your tongue.
“You taste so sweet,” he breathes, holding your chin gently, his lips drawing the skin of your neck into his mouth. “Soft and sweet. Perfect.”
The moan that slips from your lips gives way to a lusty growl from Bucky, pulling away as you look at him in confusion.
“Did I do something wrong?” you ask, Bucky brushing back his hair that has fallen against his forehead.
“No,” he answers. “Not at all. But your scent and how you taste is dangerous.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I should be sorry.”
Your hindbrain sings, demanding you to continue, propelling you forward.
“Don’t be sorry,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I like you.”
The click of your seatbelt doesn’t register until you’re settled on his lap. He’s careful to stay away from your mark, your eyes wide with curiosity as the crook of his finger slides against your neck. You’re warm all over, aware of how your body heat is affecting him, the way his breathing is ragged, his teeth crushing on his lower lip.
You’re already wet, sure that he can scent it but at the moment, you don’t care.
“I have you right in my hands, Omega,” he says before giving you a kiss. “A piece of perfection in my lap.”
Unsure of why you’re nodding, his hands settle at your thighs, kissing the center of your forehead.
“I’m sure this is breaking protocol,” Bucky thinks out loud, his metal hand cool on your skin. “But I’ll keep this a secret if you can.”
“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “I will.”
A tap on the blacked-out windows nearly makes you jump, Bucky holding back a laugh as he steadies you.
“We’ve been parked for at least ten minutes,” he informs you, adjusting your shirt back and smoothing back your hair. “Deep breath, I’ll give you a few moments before we get out.”
When you’re settled back into your seat, he adjusts himself, smoothing back his own hair, leaning back in his seat to take a few deep breaths before he looks over at you.
characters: nanami x fem reader
warnings: 18+, smut, riding, cock tease, edging, orgasm denial, begging, creampie
notes: it’s just so hot to see a man who’s always composed start to break down hehe
whenever nanami comes home, his suit and tie are always in pristine condition, even after a long day of work. there’s never a strand of hair out of place or a speck of dust to be found anywhere. that’s just how he is—precise and focused and meticulous, almost to a fault.
even when you’re undressing him, kissing him, bringing your bodies together, he still manages to be so put together that it’s honestly a little frustrating. it makes you want to tease him to the point of torture and go slow enough that he falls apart. so slow that he begs.
you want to see him lose control. you want to ruin him.
pushing nanami down on the bed, you climb on top of him and grab the lube, slicking his cock with a few strokes. he’s already so hard, flushed red and throbbing in your grasp, desperate for more. when he bucks his hips to try and fuck himself in your fist, you let go completely and tsk at him.
“don’t move,” you say, coaxing him. “let me take care of you today.”
Summary- 4.9k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. It's been a long day for you and Curtis offers to have a quiet date at his house instead of going out. You welcome the chance to get to know Curtis a little bit more.
Warnings- Some adult activities. Curtis talking about personal past trauma. Curtis and Reader dealing with some toxic eating habits and destructive talk.
A/N- Thank you so much to everyone reading, sharing, and commenting. Hearing what you all think really makes my entire day. This is such a personal project for me now that whenever anyone tells me that they relate to something in it or that you enjoy a particular part of their story, I take it to heart. Special shout out to @what-is-your-plan-today for taking the time to beta this for me, you are always willing to tackle whatever I send you with enthusiasm and if I could give you all the biscuits ever, I would. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics
Chapter 4 / Masterlist
“So when are we gonna meet this girl of yours, Curtis?” Edgar poked at Curtis early in the morning when he was clocking in. Curtis wasn’t a morning person, so he just glared at Edgar while stamping his time card and handing it back to Tanya, who decided to join in Edgar’s questioning with her own.
“I have to agree with Edgar, Curtis, when are you gonna bring her around? We all want to get to know her. She is Timmy’s teacher, you know. I met her a few times and she is really nice.”
This caught Edgar’s attention, having him leaning against the front counter looking to dig out more information. “What can you tell us about her? Spill the beans, Tanya!.”
Curtis was shrugging into his work jacket, listening to the two of them talk about you. Of course, he would have nothing but the best to say, he was a man smitten with you in such a short time. But he wasn’t going to gossip about you to these two. Tanya leaned forward conspiratorially with Edgar, sharing what she knew. Which was not a whole hell of a lot except that you had moved from somewhere east and that Timmy absolutely loved you.
Once Curtis got the last layer of clothing on to battle the early October chill, he picked up the invoices and maintenance requests needed for the freight trains coming in that day and grabbed Edgar by the collar of his jacket, dragging him out with him. “Fucking hell you two, can’t give me a moment's peace. At this rate, I’m never gonna bring Y/N around.” He muttered as Tanya waved goodbye at the two of them leaving her office and Edgar protested the whole way out the door.
When the mid-morning break came, Curtis wandered back to his truck to take a breather and to have privacy to check his phone after getting ganged up on by Tanya and Edgar. He settled into the seat of his truck and got comfortable before taking out his phone and checking his messages to see that you had left him a couple.
I hope your day is going better than mine. If it could go wrong in this place, it did.
Kind of just want to crash on the couch tonight.
He thought about it for a moment. So far the two of you have just crashed at your place. But never at his. It was perhaps time that he brought you to his house, let you completely relax while he took care of you, like you insisted on after he had a long day. Checking the time, he knew you were probably taking your own break, meaning he could take the chance to call you.
It wasn’t long till you answered, but even your tone sounded drained today. “Oh, I’m so glad you called Curtis. I’m sure you saw my messages. I shouldn’t have bombed your phone with all that whining.”
Curtis waited till you took a pause before he responded. “Y/N, Honey.” He soothed, trying to calm you down as you sounded so worried about bothering him with your texts. “I wanna know how your day is going, good or bad. Actually, I was thinking tonight, how about you come over to my place? I will cook you dinner and we can do just what you wanted, crash on the couch and watch some trash tv.”
“Curtis… actually that sounds perfect tonight. I would love that. A lot. You don’t have to worry about picking me up, I can drive over myself.”
“Okay, I’m getting done at my usual time so just come over whenever you're ready.”
“Thanks, Curtis, I gotta go.” You sighed into the phone, but now you sounded relieved. “See you tonight.”
“It’s a date, Honey.” He said softly and once the line clicked he started thinking about what he actually could put together for a meal.
On your way home, you made a pit stop at your apartment to change from your work clothes. A quick browse through your wardrobe left you in a heated debate with yourself. You really just wanted to wear a pair of leggings and sweater combo, no makeup, your hair in a messy bun.
But men don't want to see that, your last boyfriend was sure to remind you of that whenever you did dress in such a manner, said it was sloppy, like on top of your other issues you really must not care what people thought of you.
So that meant you had to dress up again. You didn't want Curtis thinking you didn't care. You tossed aside your favorite leggings for something more dressed up, a skirt and button up blouse, light makeup, and did your hair once more. Making sure to pause in front of the mirror, just to double check that you looked good enough to leave the apartment, you headed out.
Curtis had sent you his address earlier and you were thoroughly curious as to where he lived having never seen it. All you knew was that he had an actual house and not an apartment like you did. Pulling onto a side street a few miles out of the city, you bypassed family homes with fenced in yards and attached garages. Your GPS started to announce that you were getting closer and then you pulled up to a driveway with an all familiar truck sitting in front of an attached garage. The yard was carefully taken care of, although the gardens surrounding the house were overrun with weeds and the building needed a paint job, but overall it looked nice. Parking next to the truck, the porch's screen door swung open and Curtis poked his head out. “Hey, I was hoping you would find it just fine.”
Coming up the porch steps, you carried a six pack of beer with you and held it up. “Easy with the GPS and this time, I come bearing gifts.”
Curtis took the six pack from you and leaned in to give you a quick teasing kiss. “Well, that is the admission to come inside, although you were gonna get a free pass.” He held the door open for you and once you walked through, he went into the kitchen to set the beer down before coming back out to the entranceway while you hung up your coat. “Would you like the tour or let you fend for yourself? I can't be out of the kitchen too long though, I got some stuff ready to go into the oven once it heats up.”
“We will make it quick.” You looped your arm through his while he started to show you around. The living room was furnished for comfort, although the furniture looked a decade old, it was all clean and in good shape, a decent sized tv and rows of built in bookshelves lined the walls. You paused at them while you two walked. “Wow, did the house come with this feature?”
“Actually my grandfather built it for my grandmother. She loved to read and when they were building, she didn’t want big bulky shelves taking up space, so he put them in.” Curtis looked fondly at the stacks of books, a bit dusty but obvious they had been here for many years. You even caught a section of harlequin romance novels that you pulled out, wiggling your eyebrows at him.
“You read these too, Curtis?”
“Sure I have. I mean they are not my first choice but some of them are not too bad.” He winked. “I’m really not that particular in what I read as long as it gets my attention.”
You chuckled softly while sliding it back into place. “That is really all that counts. I actually love them. They give that bit of perfect romance that isn’t always easy to find.” Your gaze falling to a variety of titles, you could have spent the rest of the evening browsing the shelves. “Now I wish I brought my reading glasses.”
“Ahh, next time, Honey. If you see any you wanna take home, feel free.”
You two headed out of the room and down a hallway lined with what looked like family photos. “Okay hold on, who are these people?”
You were inspecting some closer when Curtis came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle, looking at the scattering of memories himself. “Hmm, well that little tyke is me, with my older brother and parents. Then this couple down further is my grandparents. They actually raised me, my grandfather's name was Wilford and my gram was Lillian.”
You studied them, happy smiling faces stared back at you. Although you could easily see where Curtis got his icy blue eyes and stern features as photos of his grandfather stared back. Lillian on the other hand was bright and warm, you could tell that she was the kind of woman who would welcome you into her home without hesitation. The other scattered photos showed some of Curtis and Wilford working on a truck engine, some that looked like a train yard similar to where Curtis worked now, running heavy equipment, grade school pictures of Curtis through the years, and a few with a girl that grew through the pictures, the more recent ones showing her as a grown woman with a baby of her own. “Then that is my cousin Ella and her daughter Sophia.”
You grinned as you admired the cute baby with her chubby cheeks, head full of thick dark hair and brown eyes. “She is cute.” You said before you went back to his childhood ones, noticing they seemed to be all with his grandparents but hardly any of his parents or brother short of the family photo where Curtis was nothing more than just out of his toddler years. “They raised you…” You said softly before tilting your head to look at him questioning. “What happened to your folks?”
Curtis hummed a bit, tightening his hold and pulling you back into his chest more to keep you in an enclosed circle of his arms like he was hesitant to let go. “An accident in the middle of winter. A car slid into our lane and made my father lose control. There was just no stopping it, we ended up going off the road and over an embankment. I actually don’t remember much of it anymore. But I was the only one to make it.”
You felt your throat catch hearing this. You couldn't help the tears that welled up in your eyes at the thought of losing his whole family in one tragic accident at such a young age. Curtis didn’t get to have his parents or brother for long, won’t have memories with them. You sniffled and he turned you around to face him. “Hey Pretty Girl, it was all so long ago.” He cupped your face and wiped his thumb pad over your cheeks to wipe them away.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, I just can’t imagine what that must have been like.”
Curtis’s features softened hearing you. “I got lucky, my grandparents are really the only ones at this point I even remember, and my cousin lived just down the street, she became more like a sister since she was over here all the time because her parents worked. Maybe it is better that way, you know? I, of course, love my parents and Tyler… but now they are stories that I can tell my own kids one day. So are they really gone?”
You gave a sob of a laugh, wiping at your eyes and peering up at him from under teardrop lashes. Curtis was caught in how they seemed to make your eyes brighter. “I guess when you look at it like that, it is tragically okay.”
“Actually I got something that you might like to see and won't make you cry.” Curtis led you away from the hallway, pointing out two small guest bedrooms that he had turned into storage, the bathroom and then the stairs leading up to another guest room and master bedroom. Getting to the other end of the house, he flicked on a back porch light and opened the door to step out in the rapidly approaching evening. He had a large backyard that looked to have been recently trimmed. A firepit wasn't far from the house and you could tell that it was frequently used. A couple of broken down cars that looked to be in various stages of repair were near the back of the garage and then in the treeline, there was a large old tree with a rundown treehouse.
“Okay, that is cool. You have a freaken tree house?” You said excitedly while stepping off the porch to get a closer look. “I always wanted one, but none of our trees could support one.”
“It's too unstable now to really go up in it, but I thought you would like it.” Curtis paused right underneath it. “Grandpa built it for me, I even got to help pound in the nails. I would love to fix it up one day. The tree is still alive and strong so it would easily hold.”
You grabbed a hold of the ladder still attached to the tree and lifted yourself on it enough to look up, trying to look through the opening. “I can only imagine what you and your friends did up there.” You teased and Curtis tilted his head to look up at the same spot you were, reminiscing.
“Hmm, we looked through stolen nudie magazines and smoked cigarettes we stole.” You gasped at his confession and he winked, wrapping an arm around your waist and helping you down.
“Oh Curtis, that's bad. You get caught?”
“Sure I did, smacked upside the head and asked what the hell was I thinking.” He continued laughing at the memory. “Grounded for a while, Grandad brought me with him to help out at the train yard to keep me out of trouble.”
You shivered a bit and he placed a hand on your back. “How about we go inside so I can finish dinner. I hope you don't mind baked ziti?”
“Not at all, in fact, sounds like my kinda meal on a night like tonight.” You assured him as the two of you went back inside. Once in the kitchen, Curtis insisted you sit at the counter bar while he finished up. He kept it simple, but that was just fine with you. The two of you joked the whole time, praising his cooking skills and getting the pleasure of seeing him be the flustered one for once.
“It’s nothing special.” He rolled his eyes at you as he stabbed a fork in it, leaning over the counter so you could taste it. You made a big show of it, moaning out how good it was while Curtis spread cheese all over the top of it and slid the pan into the oven. That sound alone made the back of his neck a bright red. The look paired well with the gray sweatpants he was wearing and the almost too tight tank that stretched over his chest, along with a silver chain that you had only glimpsed a couple of times but never got a closer look at until now that it was dangling so freely in what you had deemed his comfy clothes. You had seen him relaxed before whenever you two had chosen to keep date night at your apartment, but here, Curtis was in his element at his own home.
While the ziti was baking, he whipped out a loaf of french bread and started to slice it. “How many do you want?” He hummed out and you wrinkled your nose with a sigh.
“Ahh, it's bread. I probably shouldn't have much.” Which made him pause slicing and set the knife aside. When he studied you, a brow arched curiously and his lips thinned as if he was holding something back.
“Why can't you have any if you want some?”
You unleashed excuses, but all Curtis heard was how you dragged yourself down. Each one deepened the lines in his forehead as you used words like, ‘Need to start taking better care of myself.’ or ‘I’m too chunky for eating bread.’ Then the one that really upset him was ‘My ex was right, bread is too fattening for someone like me.’
Hearing that one made him go around the counter to your side. “Y/N, look at me.” The rumble of his tone made your jaw shut and cut off your nervous chatter. “What do you mean with ‘someone like me?”
You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your eyes to lighten the mood a bit. “You know Curtis, I’m not exactly a top model, I need to slim down a bit.”
His jaw clenched. “You don’t have to do anything Y/N. There is nothing wrong with you.” You looked away on instinct and Curtis reached out to gently grasp your chin and look at him. “I can tell you are not used to it, but Honey unless its a doctor telling you otherwise, no one, not me, not your friends, your family can tell you what you can and can not have. Your ex was a fucking asshole saying that shit. If you want garlic bread, please let me make you some. I want to do that for you.”
You didn't even know what to say, surprised at his reaction. You were so used to people agreeing, telling you that you had a pretty face and if you just lost a little weight you would be attractive. Here Curtis was basically telling you that you didn't have to make yourself less for him, that there was nothing wrong with you. You were unsure of how to respond, so you softly said “Okay.”
Curtis tilted his head in closer, blue eyes studying yours. “Do you want some?”
A moment's pause felt like an eternity and you sensed that he wasn't going to just let it go. “Yes, please.”
That earned you a smile and he pressed a kiss to your lips before going back around to finish what he started. “Happy to, Honey.” The unease washed from you in that kiss, a spark traveling from the cupid bow of your lips down to the tip of your toes.
Maybe you could get used to this.
Dinner ended up with you two sitting close together, back to the easy conversation, and once in a while sharing bites from each other's plates. It was hard not to monitor yourself like you normally did, every time you seemed to start picking at your food Curtis would brush his leg against yours or inquire you into a conversation that had you paying more attention to the discussion than how many bites have you taken, or chews did you take between bites, sips of water to try to make yourself fuller.
You were able to enjoy your food without guilt.
There was a mishap though, a rather saucy forkful fell down the front of your blouse, making you try to wipe it out as quickly as possible. Even Curtis went to wet a napkin and tried to help, but it was a lost cause.
“Listen, how about you just use one of my shirts? I can throw yours in the wash. While it's washing we can watch that movie? You can get changed in my room.” He offered.
You looked down at your blouse, streaked red and wet, it was sticking to the front of your chest and you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to chill for the rest of the evening with sauce all down the front of you. “If you have something I can use?”
“Sure I do Honey, majority of my clothes are made to be comfortable.” Curtis assured you while he took your hand to take you back upstairs to his bedroom. You sat on the edge of his bed while he started to go through his dresser till he pulled out a hoodie that looked like it was a size too big for you, you could have literally squealed when he handed it to you. “You want some comfy pants too? I got pajama bottoms you can crash in, they are those stretchy ones, I hate those ones that just have no give to them.”
You nodded a yes and were quickly handed a pair of flannel red checkered bottoms.
“Thanks, Curtis, I will be out in a minute.”
“Sure, the washer is in the bathroom downstairs, just go ahead and throw them in when you come out.”
Once he left, you let out an excited little squeal. You got to wear your possible boyfriend's clothes, which never happened before. You chided yourself for the ridiculousness of your excitement while you changed into the hoodie and bottoms. You did have to roll the bottoms up because they were just a bit too long as well as the sleeves of his hoodie, but you were thankful for once you were a klutz. Gathering the clothes you changed out of, you went to put them into the washer and hit start.
Curtis had grabbed a couple of beers while waiting for you, already stretched out on the couch, waiting for you to join him. When you wandered in and he caught sight of you in his shirt. Oh it stirred a rather possessive feeling in his gut. You were so comfortable in his clothes and he felt so damn turned on seeing you wrapped up in his stuff. His girl… Ooh he had it bad. You struggled to keep your sleeves up as you fell onto the couch next to him, buried yourself into his shirt and another wave of pleased possessiveness passed through him.
“What did you have in mind?” You cuddled in close while asking about the movie and he let the remote go ignored for now.
“I really want to kiss you.” Curtis found himself confessing, which made you turn up to look at him in surprise.
“Well… I think… you should.” Your fingers started twisting in the fabric of his hoodie and you just looked like you were made to be there, curled up next to him. Curtis shifted a bit closer and cupped your face to feel you melt into his touch looking at him with wide-eyed innocence. Your lips were an invitation of softness that parted the closer he came. How Curtis longed to pluck soft moans from them.
This time was different, it wasn't doorstep hungry kisses of want, now you two were private and wouldn't feel the pressure of being caught. He hovered closer, gentle brushes of his nose bumped yours before his lips pressed to yours, the tip of his tongue trailing the petal softness of your bottom lip til you encouraged him for more.
Just feeling you filled Curtis with an urgency for you, to feel you press into him and grasp hold of his back, to chase your rhythm at all your pulse points and to hear you whimper for more, more, more. His hand fell to your hip, squeezing out that urgency of feeling you in his grasp and you let him pull you into him, your hands bracing against his shoulders and breaking away to move into his lap, swinging a leg over his till you settled onto hard spread thighs while you returned to the heated warmth of swollen lips filling you with hungry moans.
If you had any thoughts, you would have worried, fretted about sitting like this on his lap. But he didn't allow for those thoughts to form, his kisses keeping you distracted, attempting to keep up with him.
His hands fell to the curve of your ass, grasps firmly holding on and squeezing while arching you into his center and pressing yourself to brace against his chest while your hand cupped the back of his neck and brushed through the short buzzed hair at the back of his head. Your touch fell down to his shoulders to dig in, arch yourself up into him again and fall back down, the rhythm of the movements giving satisfaction to the ache starting in your lower belly, clenching for more. With every downward push, you could feel how hard he was underneath you, sure to rub your aching core right against him, every bump against your throbbing clit making you gasp against him, clutching to him to let the satisfying spark feed that hunger.
Curtis’s groans vibrated through you, building in urgency till he muttered “Fuck” against your lips and with a surge of power you never experienced in your lovers, he had you two flipped so that you were laid against the couch and he hovered over you, his hand traveling up your body to cup a breast through the hoodie and squeeze enough to make you arch your back off the couch for more, digging your nails through the thin fabric of his tank and pulling him back down onto you. His hips dropped in between your thighs, rocking into you as your kisses turned messy. “Driving me fucking crazy Honey, you’re all I think about at night when I’m trying to sleep.”
You whimpered for this confession, gasping when he ground himself into you. “Curtis don’t stop.” Pleading for more, you tightened your thighs against him and rocked to meet him, the building heat and churning was making you quiver. A sharp nip of teeth on your bottom lip made you match him, pressing your tongue to lap against his and drown out his groaning noise. A feral desire made him surround you, pressing you into the couch cushions as a hand held your waist to keep you in place, the other braced up by your head, holding him off you enough so that he wasn't crushing you, but there was no space between you, just as you craved him, he craved you.
It was almost overwhelming, and another grind of his hard on against your wet core made you cry out his name while you came, a flood of relief crashing as you tensed and broke under him. You gasped against him as you curled in close, your legs tightening around his waist while you two kept rocking together. “Fuck… Shit Honey, I'm gonna…” He growled out, under your hands on his back you felt the ripple of muscles lead up to his tensing shoulders, his body going stiff and then you saw the release on his face. He just let go and you couldn't help but loosen your hold on his back to cup his face in your hands, pressing kisses to his ruddy cheeks, let your forehead press against his as he panted with screwed shut eyes, letting the sensation simmer back to a manageable pleasure. When his eyes opened, they softened when he found your stare. “Hey, Pretty Girl…”
The entire moment suddenly caught up with you, emotionally it hit you harder than you expected and Curtis so casually dropping ‘pretty girl’ on you made your insides twist and you couldn’t stop your reaction. The tears brimmed your eyes and worry made Curtis start stammering when he saw them roll down your cheeks.
“Fuck, Y/N did I hurt you?” He pulled away from you and you couldn't stop the sob that escaped yourself for reacting like this.
You just broke into tears and Curtis didn't know why. He was cursing himself mentally for being too rough and getting carried away. His hands collected you to pull you into his lap where you sunk into his chest and hid against his shoulder while your crying started to cease. “Honey, please tell me what's wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away like that.” He couldn't believe he flipped you to the couch and rutted against you like some horny teenager, he was better than that and you deserved to be treated better. You started sniffling as he rubbed at your back and you lifted yourself up, wiping at your face with the oversized sleeve.
“You didn't hurt me, It was good, really good… I just got caught up in the moment and… It’s been a long time since I have felt that good.“ You were shaking your head at yourself and tilted your head close and pressed your lips to his, assuring him that you were indeed okay.
“Are you sure?” Curtis ran his hands up and down your back slowly, calming after the moment you two shared. “Because all you gotta do is tell me to cut it out and I will.”
“Promise.” You nudge your nose against his. “In fact, I'm now a bigger fan than I was before for these gray sweatpants you're wearing.” You giggled and hugged around his neck and he returned the gesture, pressing his face into your shoulder and sighing in relief.
“I didn’t know you were all that much of a fan of them to begin with.” He shrugged in confession and you narrowed your eyes at him playfully.
“All women love a man in gray sweats, I promise you.” You go to move up off him and he tugged you back into him, growling a bit.
“Where are you going? We still have a movie to watch.” Pulling your legs up so that you were sitting sideways in his lap and pulling the blanket off the back of the couch.
“Curtis, I can't stay in your lap like this, your legs are gonna get sore.”
He handed you the remote and settled back into the couch. “I get to make that call Honey if it's too much.”
Summary-3.1k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Curtis and You begin to grow closer in this new budding relationship. Little moments shared begin to really show each other who each of you is and what matters for the both of you. As much as you are falling for Curtis, Curtis is finding he is for you as well and wants to really build this into something real.
Warnings- Reader has some doubts about herself and some inner hate talk. But this is mostly just some fluff with a few heated moments. This is an 18+ Only blog.
A/N- This is a shorter chapter but I loved the little moments they shared with each other and it felt like a good time to share those moments with you guys. This one is not proofread, my beta is having herself a WELL DESERVED vacation. So you all gotta suffer with my messy writing. As always, Thank You so much for all the comments, likes and shares. Every time any of you drop me a message saying what you thought or how something reminds you of Curtis and Honey, I seriously want to cry because they are so important to me. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics, Much love and Happy Reading.🐝
Chapter 3 / Masterlist
You two had gone out a few more times during the month, each time getting to know each other a little better. The longer the two of you hung out together, the more comfortable it became. There was easy affectionate touches shared and a general ease of comfort with one another on the dates, when it was time to say goodnight, the kisses became more desiring, trying to stretch out the minutes just a little longer, just a little more. The more you got to know Curtis, the more you found yourself falling for the man who was so unlike anyone you’ve ever dated.
You found out that Curtis loved stories, mythology, and legends, your very first glimpse was the night of your first official date stargazing. Turned out he was an avid reader in his down time and typically had a book stashed somewhere in his truck. You accidentally found a copy of The Viking Spirit under his truck's seat, the cover tattered and torn, the spine barely holding it together and when you flipped open the pages, the corners had small notes and highlights of parts he particularly seemed to enjoy.
“Oh, I thought I had brought that inside.” He said absently as you flipped through it, taking a moment to read a couple of his notes but then closed it back up, feeling like you were imposing on his private thoughts. You tucked it on the dashboard so that he wouldn't forget to bring it inside the next time.
“Must have slipped out of sight, out of mind. What's your favorite one?” Now here you would have thought it would have been some fearsome story about one of Odin's conquests but Curtis broke into a goofy grin and plucked the book off the dashboard, flipping through the pages.
“This one…” He flipped the book so you could see the picture, a big man badly dressed as a woman. “When I was a kid, my grandfather read me these and this one where Loki helps Thor get back Mjolnir from a giant. I thought it was just the funniest thing, picturing Thor flirting to get his hammer back.”
Curtis elaborated on the story, reading the chapter to you and before it was over, you both were holding your sides, laughing as tears streamed down your faces.
“Your grandfather sounds like he was a great man, is he still alive?”
Curtis sobered a bit, a finger tracing the books binding a moment like it was special to him. “No… I'm afraid he is not.” Then he snapped it shut and set it aside. “But him and my grandmother were great people.”
You reached out, looking to comfort him with a gentle brush of your hand to his arm. “They sound like it, I’m sorry they are not here any longer Curtis.”
Curtis broke into a smile and wrapped his arm around you, tucking you in close to him and a quick press of his lips went to the crown of your head. “Don’t be, it’s been a long time and I was lucky to have them.” You let yourself sink into his side, it was like you fit right there.
It wasn't just you finding out new facts, Curtis did as well. Opting one night to just order pizza instead of going out, he crashed on your apartment's couch, a box of pizza opened on the coffee table as you stuck the dvd in the player before crashing on the couch next to him. “Okay, this is… well one of my favorite movies. I know you have seen it before, and I'm most likely gonna be the biggest dork about it, but I really can't help it, okay?”
His arm went over your shoulder and he shrugged while you scooted into the curve of his body, hitting play on your dvd players remote. “Be the biggest dork ever Honey, not gonna phase me any. Actually it's pretty cute.” Curtis chuckled and you let your face hide against his side for a moment, the casual drop of Honey making your insides twist before you turned towards the start of the movie. An all too familiar scene of In-Gen employees started milling around a dinosaur cage and Curtis tucked you in closer, muttering under his breath. “This is even better than I expected, I do hope you have the other two? They all need to be watched at once.” Knowing full well you must have had them all, but you turned a hopeful look up to him, breaking out in the damn cutest grin he had ever seen.
“You bet jurassican.” Causing Curtis to snort, he hooked his foot in the leg of your coffee table to pull it closer so he could reach for the pizza box and neither of you would really had to move from your comfortable relaxing poses.
“You really are a dork.” He tickled lightly along your side and you playfully poked his side with your elbow.
“Takes one to know one.”
“Oooh Clever Girl.” Curtis teased back while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I dino what to tell ya, I am too.”
The night ended with you falling asleep against his shoulder and Curtis easing you onto the couch and covering you up before slipping out of your apartment. He was hesitant to leave but knew that the two of you weren’t ready for the sleeping over stage, having just started dating. Before leaving, he took one last look at you curled on the couch and smiled to himself, considering himself pretty lucky. Before he headed out of the building, he double-checked your door, making sure it was locked behind him.
It was the beginning of October and stores in the area had there Halloween holiday displays out, covering most of Duluth's store fronts now. Curtis made a pit stop at a gas station on the way home from work when he happened to see a little pumpkin ornament that made him think of you, the previous week you happened to mention how much you loved Halloween in a passing comment and then never mentioned anymore about it. It stuck out for Curtis, this little confession of what made you happy. So when he happened to see the little ornament for sale on the gas station counter, he included it with his purchases.
Planning on surprising you with it, he showed up earlier than you were expecting that Saturday. A quick rap on the door announced his arrival and you answered from somewhere on the other side. “Coming!”
You were busy grading your students' recent homework, red pen tapping at the corner of your mouth while you absently chewed it. Thankfully you didn't have to use it too often for most of your kids, leaving you pleased that your class really seemed to be embracing the current curriculum. You did jump a little at the knock, knowing he would be showing up, but he was there earlier then usual.
Rushing to the door, you went to sneak a look out the peephole and was greeted with a distorted reflection of Curtis waiting patiently. His arm was over his head, leaning against the door frame and his other hand behind his back. Unlocking the door, you opened it, allowing him to lean in closer to your space. “Hey good looking. You are visiting me early today?”
“I come bearing gifts Y/N.”
“You brought me a gift?” You bit your lip and tried to peek around him, but he was effective in blocking your view. “What do I gotta do to get it?” You finally gave up trying, looking up at him hopeful and a bit in surprise.
“Hmmm…” He contemplated, eyes rolling upwards as if thinking. His handsome face with that dark beard that he must have just trimmed and splattering of barely there freckles was starting to drive you a bit crazy waiting and when you gave a bit of a huff of impatience, he broke into a grin. “A kiss from my best girl? I would rather enjoy that.”
This nickname made you feel like butterflies were fluttering through your chest and your teeth dragged against your bottom lip with insinuation. “I'm your best girl?” So far almost all your kisses shared have been initiated by Curtis, like he couldn't get enough and had to steal one more. But this one you would get to give and that made you a little nervous about being clumsy. You stepped in closer and slid your hands around his waist in a loose hug, your fingers stretched, trying to get a feel for what he had hidden, but he effectively twisted it out of your reach. “You are not even gonna let me feel it?” You pouted a bit and he shook his head.
“Nope, I’m not gonna let you feel what it is.” He scoffed and you pressed in closer, letting the tip of your nose run against his jaw before going to tiptoes to press your lips against his, soft at first as you nipped slightly for permission. He sunk in closer into your doorway, letting you deepen your kiss, tongues sliding together and soft moans exchanged. Your arms shifted from his waist to up around his neck to hold onto him. You were feeling the excitement build, the urgency to take this further with him. Your fingers curled around his neck and pulled him into the rest of the apartment.
Curtis followed your lead, his foot going up to press against the door to swing it shut. He managed to stuff the gift in his jacket pocket to make use of both hands, letting them fall to your hips to keep you close while backing you up. It wasn't till your legs hit the arm of your couch did you fall back into the cushions. Your hold on Curtis made him fall down with you. “Shit.” He cursed out while you whined underneath him. He was pulling himself up a bit to keep from crushing you, with worry in his features. “I didn't hurt you did I?”
You started giggling, covering your face then and trying to contain your embarrassment at the klutzy moment you had. “No, sorry. I didn't mean to make us trip.” You peeked out from under your hands and wiggled the tip of your nose at him.
Curtis smiled in relief and reached up to move your hands off your face, pressing a gentle kiss this time before shifting off you and helping you up. “You don't have to apologize for something like that. It was what I was looking for.” Tugging you in closer to him. “Now close your eyes, so I can give you your gift.”
Leaning into his side, you tilted your head into his shoulder to hide your eyes and he tilted a bit to reach into his pocket and pulled out a small paper bag to set in your lap. “Okay… Open them.”
You lifted your head from his shoulder and went to pry open the paperbag, peering into it. “Ooh!” Pulling out a small little pumpkin ornament that was made entirely of glass, you trailed your fingers over the twisting stem that curled around and delicately laid over the bright orange glass. It fit perfectly in the palm of your hand, a small little treasure that made your heart swell at the thoughtfulness of the gift. “Curtis this is-” You sighed out and carefully set it on your coffee table to keep it from breaking. “I love it. Thank you so much.”
This rewarded him with another kiss, which he happily accepted, albeit surprised at how much you seemed to love the little gift.
That night you two went to dinner and a movie. You had made the suggestion and Curtis was happy to go along with it. You kept it simple for dinner, grabbing sandwiches at a local diner along with a bag of chips you two shared. Curtis had started to pick up on little things, such as how you seemed to prefer curled over chips. He was sure to hand you each one he came across. The way you filled up your cup with mostly ice when getting a drink while out. Curtis also noticed that you would pick at your food, eating just tiny bits. It made him wonder, but dared not question you about it, at least not so soon.
The movie went well, together you two shared a bucket of popcorn, sitting near the backrow of the theater. Curtis was able to stretch out his legs with the extra room and you were able to put up the arm rests for extra room, able to cuddle close to Curtis’s side without the arm of the chair biting into your waist and making you feel squeezed into the theater seat. As the movie progressed, his hand found its way to your thigh, squeezing now and then, his thumb brushing back and forth in a gentle manner. The quiet was a comfortable intimacy for you two. Curtis valued the way you were now comfortable enough to just sink into him, even though you two had not slept together, these moments were just as valuable.
It was something Curtis had never really had, but always craved. You made it just easy to be with you, you were this constant warmth welcoming him, you talked with such passion and had even taken the initiative to learn more about the things he has shared he was interested in. How you were even single blew his mind, but he was already counting his blessings now that you happened to be at Paulies shortly after he met you. His thoughts wandered about all these things during the movie, losing complete track of what the two of you were watching until he felt you stir next to him, your own hand now mimicking the way his was tracing your thigh, brushing so close to the front of his pants that it was hard for him not to chase after your touch.
You don't know when he lost focus, you felt it first in the way his hand grasped the inside of your thigh, like he was holding onto you from escaping his touch. Lifting your head off his shoulder, you glanced up to see him so serious, his eyes capturing just enough of the screen's glare to show how far away his gaze was. No reactions to the theater screen. Your mouth twisted a bit with curiosity at what he was thinking about.
You moved your hand into his lap, leaning up to slide your lips against the shell of his ear, whispering. “Where’s your mind at handsome?”
He grunted in response, as blunt as ever. “How fucking lucky I am to get to take you out. But yeah, I lost track of the movie.”
You laughed softly as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, appreciating that Curtis was straightforward and didn't leave you guessing what he was thinking. His eyes dropped to where your hand rested, finishing his train of thought. “And you keep going like that Honey and my mind is gonna be on how good your hand feels on me.”
That made you purr, feeling rather daring in the safety of the dark theater. “That's what I’m hoping for, Curtis.” You gave a firm squeeze and that gave you a well earned groan, proud of yourself as you let up and settled back into watching the movie.
When he dropped you off that night, he pinned you against the apartment building's door, thoroughly taking you apart in his kiss. One hand braced himself against the door, helping to cage you in between his hard body and the old apartment door that creaked at the weight of you two leaning against it. His other hand was holding the back of your head, tilting you just the way he craved, able to trace your tongue and his beard scratch tantalizing against your mouth. When you broke, you looked up dazed, panting slightly. “Do you want to stay over?”
Curtis wanted to, more than anything ever but he pulled away just enough for you to breathe, so your body wasn’t pressed in every inch of his. He could see the doubt starting to cloud in your gaze, that maybe you made a mistake. “Y/N, more than anything. Believe me Honey. But…” He paused, trying to find a way to explain himself without making you doubt him. “You mean alot to me, like a fucking lot. I want this to last and in my experience taking it slow is the way to… Fuck, I’m not good at this.” He growled a bit, reaching up to fist his hand in his beanie and tug it off. How was he supposed to explain that he wanted you so badly under him, wrapped around him, always with him but he wanted to earn that right.
At first you thought he was rejecting you, an old fear playing over common sense. You are too fat, to big, to much, why would he want to sleep with you? These dark little thoughts suddenly flared like a neon light in your brain, recalling the way Jake looked at you disgusted the day you two broke up.
“You are disgusting, why would anyone want to have sex with you? Get some fucking help Y/N.”
But then Curtis started to explain why he was saying no, the worry that crossed his face and how he was so sincere in his touch made your mind clear. Trust him.
You pressed your palm against his chest, making him stall. “Hey, it’s okay Curtis. When we’re both ready, right?” You smiled at him and relief took over when he gave a small smile back. Grasping your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, this kiss was a gentle caring one, his feelings were equally matched in this as before even though this was was a subtle thank you instead of one driven by passion. “Thank you for understanding why I wanted to wait. Why you’re my best girl Honey.”
You both shared a good night and he waited long enough to see you head back upstairs to your apartment before he left for the night once more even though he wanted to stay so badly.
Once you escaped back up to your apartment, you let yourself lean back against your now closed door, your fingers lifting to press against your lips while smiling softly at the words he left you with.
Summary- 5.1k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. After the Friday night at Paulie's, you ponder if you are going to get that phone call and if Curtis will keep his promise of a date. Curtis, listening to his friends, decides to invite you to the restaurant Va Bene, a fine Italian dining establishment that feels just a bit out of his element.
Warnings- The reader has some body image issues but nothing severe, some harsh self talk. Curtis feeling out of his element.
A/N- Thank you so much everyone! I so appreciate how much interest and all the remarks I have gotten about these two comfort characters for me. Special thank you to @what-is-your-plan-today for reading over this and dropping your thoughts and edits. The dividers made by @firefly-graphics. So the Italian in this, I used Google Translate for it, so if I completely butchered the launguage, I am so sorry. Happy Reading. 🐝🍯
Chapter Two / Masterlist
Come Monday you were still thinking about that Friday night.
Curtis drove you to your apartment building and you two hovered on the front steps for a few moments, collars turned up to keep the wind from stealing what little heat there was to be had. You were standing so close, so aware of him that your eyes kept flirting up to look at him. The tip of his nose and top of his cheeks were slightly red, his bottom lip was a plump temptation that you really wanted to taste and his eyes were very intensely fixed on you in the same manner.
Your heart had to be pounding loud enough for him to hear as the tingling rush raced through you. This feeling of being desired hadn’t made itself known in some time.
You hadn't felt like this since leaving home. No, not your home, it certainly wasn’t home while you were living there with Jake. You hadn’t felt like this since you and Jake first started dating, back before you were told how you needed to fix yourself. It actually scared you just a little as well as excited you how Curtis looked at you like you were someone special.
“Thank you Curtis, for bringing me home.” Your hands fiddled with your keys, not that there were many on the keyring but you were stalling and could tell he was stalling too. He rocked back and forth on his heels to toes a moment, clearing his throat.
“Well, I couldn't let you fend for yourself getting home now. I should probably get headed back but do you- ah- want to…” He seemed to turn bashful almost, now not entirely sure the red in his cheeks was actually from the chill in the air. His hand clasped the back of his neck, giving a slight pull at the nape of his neck before he focused on his words once again. “Go out again… I would like to take you to dinner or something. I’m pretty open to anything you would like to do.”
He was nervous which you didn't fathom why he would be but you were immediately able to answer him. “I would love to, Curtis. Just give me a call and we can set something up. You have my number.” You tilted up to your tiptoes and brushed a kiss on his bristled cheek.
When you unlocked the door to let yourself in, you waved goodbye, heading up the stairs, taking one glance over your shoulder to see Curtis retreating back to his truck.
That was Friday and you had not heard from him since, and some of those old doubts started to fester. Maybe he got to thinking about it and decided that you were too much for him. It wouldn't be the first time that happened, reliving some past memories made your throat close up and the papers you graded blur.
Nagging thoughts had plagued you all day and angrily you swiped at the tear threatening to spill. It was ridiculous to feel this way you chided yourself. You don't even know him, not really. And he might be busy.
Or have a girlfriend?
Being a bigger woman who took up to much space had been your life for the past five years. You were reminded that you weren't even the “attractive big woman.” You were just pretty. It was a sharp sound in your mind- pretty for your size.
You slammed your pen down in frustration at yourself and picked up a baby carrot to snap into instead. You could feel those nagging doubts start to take root and you were determined not to let them. After all, you two had a great time at Paulie’s, Curtis had been more than eager to have you put your number in his phone and any man hiding something wouldn't just hand over his phone so freely. Yes trusting was hard, but this man wasn’t Jake Wyler, right? He had led you away from his friends, but they all saw you with his arm around you. He wasn’t trying to hide you, you two were getting to know each other. Logic prevailed over the negative thoughts, thankfully.
Claude chose this opportune moment to appear in your doorway with a knock. “Hey, are you busy? I know the class is at lunch right now.”
You shook your head while picking your red pen back up to continue. “Just doing some grading during my own break period. What's up?”
“I just wanted to say sorry for leaving the other night. I looked around for you, but last I saw you were playing pool with that really good looking guy.” She perched on the edge of your desk. “And well, he seemed really into you, so I just assumed-” The drawing you had been given by the bus driver caught her eye and she leaned forward to pluck it up, studying it curiously. “I was not making the best decisions Friday.” She winced as if recalling a memory from that night. “Also this is really good! It looks a bit like that man you were with?”
“We played pool and shared a couple of pitchers. Curtis gave me a ride home so it's all good and umm… remember the field trip to the freight yard? That is where we first met. Steve drew that while we were walking around.”
“You met him before! Girl why didn’t you tell me about him?! We would have been going back to that freight yard to collect him and find me one.” Claude gave a nod. “Are you two gonna go out again?” She gave the drawing one last glance and set it back down. Your fingers itched to put it away from anyone else's sight.
“We exchanged numbers, so we will see.” You let yourself go back to grading papers while Claude moved off your desk, straightening her skirt out.
“Well, you are pretty damn cute. He is going to call. And I can tell just looking at him that he is going to be a good time.” She gave a suggestive wink as the bell rang and your class was just bursting in the door, cutting off the conversation.
Your jaw clenched and teeth gritted at Claude's statement. Pretty. That word you used for yourself earlier. For you pretty was usually ‘Well you are pretty for a fat chick.’ Like all you were meant to be was a good time and nothing more. Claude might not have said it like that or even knowingly used it, but the cruel part of your mind twisted her innocent words into that. And it just added to your earlier worries.
Your students milled around, taking out their science books for their class and you took a deep breath to shut out the bad thoughts plaguing you. Opening your eyes you grabbed the drawing you were growing attached to and put it in your desk's locked drawer, not wanting to share the moment Steve etched with anyone else.
“How about that Italian place in town? I know it's pricey, but a girl is gonna be impressed if you take her out to someplace where you have to make reservations and wear a tie.” Edgar offered a solution as Curtis debated all weekend on what is the best kind of spot to take you.
Basically, Edgar was saying someplace Curtis would feel out of place. Did he even own a tie?
Curtis gave a typical shrug of his shoulder while his finger hovered over your number. All he had to do was press down. He really wanted to finalize a date and treat you out somewhere nice. He could just picture you dressing up and that sweet smile making you glow happily. Which is something he wanted to be the cause of. Edgar was an insistent voice breaking him from his daydreaming thoughts.
“Sure it is a Italian restaurant but they probably have the descriptions in English. Or will tell you if you ask. You said you would take her anywhere, girls are impressed with nice places, Curtis.”
“I can read Italian, Edgar.” Curtis “Well enough to know what’s on the menu.”
“You can?” Edgar asked with some admiration.
“Posso parlare un po' anche io.” Curtis set his phone down, still hovering on some uncertainty about where to take you. “My grandmother was fluent.”
“You were the one just saying you wanted to do something special for her. A move like this will guarantee a second date. Trust me, it's what I would do. Imagine whipping out the Italian while ordering.” Edgar was already looking up the number and texted it to Curtis, clearly excited about his friends' prospects of securing another date.
“I can't believe I’m taking your advice.” He grumbled some more as he dialed your number. It went to voicemail, considering it was midday on a Monday, he figured you were probably in class. “Hey Y/N, this is Curtis. If you are free Wednesday night, I would love to take you out for dinner.”
From beside him, Edgar was giving him a thumbs up. He was about to put his phone away when it immediately rang in his palm, making him swipe at the answer button when he saw your number come up on the screen.
“I just finished class and saw you called.” Your tone was bright and almost breathless like you were rushing to get the words out to him. It made Curtis hopeful. “I would love to go out Wednesday. What time would you like to meet?”
Edgar was making wild hand gestures throwing out times at him. Curtis bared his teeth and shoved Edgar away from him. “Six sound good? I can come to pick you up.”
“It’s a date. I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Same Y/N.” He glared at an obviously enthusiastic Edgar. “See you Wednesday, I gotta head back to work now.” After they said their goodbyes, he flipped Edgar off who was shouting at Tanya in the office.
“The grump has a date T!”
Curtis was just leaving to head back outside when Tanya’s voice sounded behind him. “About time! He going to take her to that Italian place I told you about?”
You had spent all afternoon after work going through your closet trying to find just the right kind of outfit. A few text exchanges led you to find out that the restaurant Curtis had reserved was one of the nicest in town. Your outfit choice was one you hadn’t worn since New York, but it felt good to dress up again, a loose sweater dress with a cinch around your midsection gave you a bit more of an hourglass figure. You opted for some leggings to keep your legs warm and a nice pair of boots. Your hair was freshly washed with your favorite shampoo, a hint of honeysuckle from your body wash and the final touch was dark red lipstick that you were very precise in applying. It was your favorite autumn color and saved for special occasions, which your first date in almost a year most certainly was.
While you were double checking your clutch you heard your phone buzzing. Answering, you heard Curtis on the other end telling you he was there but not entirely sure which apartment was yours. You quickly tapped out a message back saying you would be right down. Grasping a cardigan and clutch you were out the door and downstairs within a few moments.
When you stepped out, Curtis was tugging on a slightly out-of-place tie and trying to readjust a shirt that was stretched tightly over his chest. Other than that, it was very much what you expected from him, his beanie pulled snuggly over his buzzed head and his long black coat sweeping around him. It was endearing and something about this giant of a man dressing up to take you out made you feel special and desired.
As soon as he saw you, you saw his mouth snap shut as his gaze took you in. Fiercely blue eyes roved for a moment before snapping back to your face like he was caught doing something he shouldn't. “You look so pretty Y/N.”
There was that word again, you winced inwards at it. But he was so genuine that you accepted the compliment with thanks and brushed it off. It made his jaw tick a moment before he offered his arm. “I mean it Y/N, you really look beautiful.” Apparently, you weren't gonna get away with contradicting his compliments.
“Thank you Curtis, you are quite handsome yourself.”
This time it was genuine, not a brush off of disbelief that he could possibly find you attractive in the sense of beautiful. Claude's voice was an annoyance at the back of your mind. Well, you are pretty cute. You two can have a good time.
You were pretty and hell worth a lot more than just a good time you firmly reminded yourself.
Feeling better about yourself, you wrapped your arm around his and let him escort you to his truck. “I'm gonna need a step ladder to get in Curtis.” You joked and he opened the door, winking.
“Nah Honey, I got you.” A voice as smooth as the sweetness he just called you. “Can I touch you?”
You were in a bit of a daze when you nodded a yes. His hands fell to your waist, a warm and heavy touch, making your toes curl at the way he easily could lift you. Curtis helped ease you in like you weighed nothing, not even a grunt of effort was dropped. Once he was sure you were comfortable inside and he joined you behind the wheel.
“Have you ever been to Va Bene?”
“No, it was a very persistent suggestion by my friends Edgar and Tanya.” Curtis chuckled softly.
“Well, I’m very much looking forward to trying it out Curtis. Thank you for taking me.” You reached over, your touch brief but enough to make him smile to himself at the gesture.
“It really is my pleasure Y/N.” The talking drifted to about how one another's day had gone, him relaying about his crew's mayhem that made you laugh, sharing about how similar they were to your classroom antics.
Va Bene was a formal place, Curtis tugged once more at his tie now that he was missing his favorite hat and jacket, those were left back in the truck. You two were brought to the table he had reserved for the evening by a cheerful hostess who hovered long enough to make sure you two were satisfied with the seating. You hovered a moment while looking over the chair, it was as you expected, a whimsical thin legged chair that always made you nervous. Cautiously you sat down and when you felt the chair was sturdy, let yourself take a breath. Even Curtis looked a bit crowded at the small table for two.
Aside from that, it was in a lovely spot near the windows that overlooked the dying light on Lake Superior, hues of red and orange glimmered off the water just outside, there were a few boats at the dock near the restaurant and the outdoor patio was currently closed off for the season, but you could easily see why this restaurant would be so popular. The waiter poured you both a swallow of wine in glasses, and Curtis took a sip, glancing at you to make the final decision.
You took a sip as well and looked down at it before setting the wine glass down. “It’s good.” When the waiter offered you more you took it and Curtis did as well.
Now it was just the two of you left with menus that both of you skimmed over. It all looked excellent, but it was just a bit out of your element. You would have killed for a burger and fries, once in a while, you glanced at Curtis over your menu who seemed just as lost as you were in the moment. “So um, any idea of what to have?” He asked, seeming to look for some idea among the options, his own eyes darting over his menu at you.
You flashed a smile before closing the menu and leaning closer to him to take a chance on your haunch. Crooking a finger so he would lean in close to hear you. “Listen, I love this effort, honestly. But I’m so feeling a burger and fries, how about you?” You took your chance, hoping that you weren't making a negative lasting impression on him.
“Was I that obvious?” Curtis sighed with his own crooked smile and you reached over to place a hand on his arm, giving a slight squeeze.
“Maybe, but listen. I am so down for that… how about we steal this bread basket and book it?”
Curtis was all up for that. When the waiter came back, the table was empty short of a few swallows of wine and missing bread.
Laughing, you two stumbled outside of the restaurant, snapping into some crunchy breadsticks and strolling back to his truck. “I should have just asked you where you wanted to go. Edgar insisted that this was the place to be.”
“It was nice, but I want you to enjoy yourself too.” You leaned over to loosen his tie for him and pulled it out of its place. “And I don't know, this just doesn't seem like it, Curtis. How about you show me something you like to do?”
Curtis gave it some thought as you both approached the truck once more. This was new to him, never before had his date asked him what he wanted to do. You were patient, folding up his tie in your hands. Curtis then tilted his head to look up at the twilight sky that was quickly growing darker by the minute. He gave a bit of a smile that eased the stress in his features. “I have an idea.”
“In the words of Bilbo Baggins, I’m going on an adventure!” You stated with enthusiasm and let Curtis help you back into the truck. This time you were a bit more prepared for how easily he lifted you off the ground, making a very pleasing and exciting thrill race through you at the sensation. While he settled back in, you tossed the tie up on his dashboard, glad that he was no longer nervously fidgeting but seemed much more relaxed.
The first stop was to pick up just what you had suggested earlier, burgers and fries. Curtis took you to a small food truck that he promised made excellent food and after a moment of checking out the small menu, you told him your order. Once you both had hot styrofoam containers in hand, he then drove away from the city area, working on getting away from all the bright lights. Turning onto a back road, you started to see fewer and fewer houses and far fewer lights.
But the night sky here was so bright that you couldn't help leaning against the truck's window glass looking up.
“It's so beautiful.”
“It is.” Curtis said simply as he started to slow down a bit and turned on his four wheel drive to go off road into a tree lined field. Putting it in park, he killed the headlights and engine and then slid out while grabbing the bag of food. You scooted across the bench seat and let him help you out as well since you didn't dare make the short jump in the shoes you happened to wear for tonight.
Together you two went to the tailgate and when he dropped it, his hands hovered near your hips. “Let me help you up Y/N, it's a ways up there.” He teased and you scoffed.
“We can’t all be six foot something.” You joked back but giving a nod of approval, he so easily perched you on the edge, making you feel that rush as you gasped, your hands grabbing his biceps in the action to brace yourself. The muscles were firm in your hold, flexing so easily that he made you feel almost weightless.
Curtis couldn't help loving that feeling that he really shocked you, your beautiful eyes widened at him in surprise and your easily kissable lips curved in a way that seemed to come so easily to you. His fingers flexed against your waist, reluctant to let you go now that he had you in his hold.
Now that you were perched on the tailgate, easily face to face with him, you reached out and brushed your fingers through his beard, your eyes roaming over his features.
He felt your gaze really sink in, the spark of arousal in your depths that almost compelled him to claim that kiss he so wondered about. Your lips were parted, your breaths a rush of excitement and time just stalled while your touch was so fluttering, everything he had imagined and not nearly enough. Your fingers, he wanted them everywhere on his body, not just brushing along his jawline in a sense of wanting more mirroring in your features. They must have looked similar to his own.
Those quiet seconds stretched for Curtis, his jaw clenched then relaxed under your touch, your gaze wanting and curious when he locked eyes with you. It was only inches that you two would have to close, the ache to kiss you stirring excitement in his veins. But he hesitated, a moment too soon and your hand fell away, leaving you retreating your warmth that he craved so much. It wasn't the right moment, and he backed away while clearing his throat, pulling himself up next to you.
He sat close enough so that the side of his thigh pressed against yours and was rewarded with you leaning into him a bit, sharing each other's warmth in the cool autumn night. Curtis might not have taken that kiss yet, but he was happy with this moment as well.
“I know it’s not that fancy dinner from before…” Curtis started, starting to let doubts creep in his mind that this was just too simple. What had he been thinking of taking you out like this? People expected to have fun and excitement, not sitting around in the middle of nowhere.
You shook your head, reaching behind you for the containers you two had picked up earlier.
“This is perfect Curtis, it smells amazing.” You started as you handed him one and set yours to the opposite side of you, popping the top. “We have the most amazing view. I haven't seen this many stars since I went camping as a kid.” You popped a crunchy sweet potato fry in your mouth. “And I got the best seat for it.” You nudged your shoulder against his and he relaxed.
He picked up his own burger and flipped the top open to try his own food. “So Curtis, you know I’m a middle school teacher, but well… I never did ask you that day what your job actually was?”
Taking a bite of his burger, he pulled out a piece of bacon to enjoy it all on its own. “Diesel mechanic and welder for the freight yard. I also help Gilliam with odd jobs like unloading and shipping/storage of the container yard.” He offered you the last bite of his bacon, which you leaned forward and took it with your mouth, causing your lips to brush against his fingertips and logical thought once more escaped his head as it was all he could think about.
Arching your brows as you chewed the salty crispy bite. “How did you get into all that?” you asked curiously.
He gave a little shake of his head to bring him back into the moment.“Well my grandfather worked there and was good friends with Nam, the owner. So I went there after school for a couple of years till I graduated. Then I went off to a trade school to become certified. When I came back, Nam set me up in the Duluth branch working under Gilliam. I like it, the work speaks to me. I've always been interested in rebuilding machines and engines.”
You dunked a fry into the sauce you chose, considering what he was saying. An analytical mind that liked puzzles. Then the more carnal side was picturing him covered in motor grease and coming home filthy. Your thighs literally squeezed together at the image and you were quick to stuff the fry in your mouth before you said or did something you might regret later because of your lust filled thoughts.
It went silent for a few minutes as you two just ate. You offered your sweet potato fries for him to try and you giggled at the way his brow furrowed in doubt. “Are they even safe? I don't know Y/N.”
“I promise if it kills you, you can haunt me.”
“You gonna call me Casper the friendly ghost?” He countered as he plucked at a couple and let them hover near his mouth. “French fries are not supposed to be sweet.”
“Nope, Curtis the mechanic ghost. What is it going to take you to try one?” You arched a brow as you stole some of his regular fries and snapped into them with a challenging grin.
“I can think of a few things Y/N.” He muttered and you felt your mind swarm with all that could possibly insinuate.
“Can’t believe I’m gonna eat this vegetable for you.” He glared at you and finally ate it, you watched closely before he gasped, clutching at his chest and falling back against the truck bed. You couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up from your chest. Curtis wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you to fall back as well next to him, your head cushioned on his bicep. Tilting your head to look over at him with an unrestrained giggle.
“I thought you were supposed to be dead? You are not playing the part of Curtis the mechanic ghost very well.”
“This is me haunting you. Your vegetables did kill me.”
“You really didn’t like them even just a little bit Curtis?”
He laughed and tilted his head to look at you, your noses almost touching. “Actually they were pretty good. Might steal another one.”
“You have to fight me for that.” You whispered, letting the tip of your nose rub against his. Curtis pushed up to loom over you, his eyes roaming up your face and cocking a dark brow in challenge.
“I will give it my best attempt Honey.” His tone dropped, having lost that playfulness from before. Now it was more, wanting, the two of you so close to tipping into a kiss. Your breath caught in your chest as you looked up into his eyes and dropped back to his lips. You wanted it, you really did. At your sides, your hands fisted to keep from pulling him in close to crash against you.
Curtis though did it for you, his lean in pressed gently against the length of your body and lips slid against yours in a soft gesture that left you wanting more. Now your hands needed something more to grab onto, grasping his jacket lapels and twisting your fingers into the fabric when he came for a second one. Pressing harder, and a slight parting of your lips was an invitation for him to deepen the kiss.
Curtis never meant to press this far, but the moment you sighed satisfied after the first one, he let himself stop holding himself back. The way you responded just added to it and his hand was cupping your face to hold you still, exploring you with a gentle intimacy. Your body pressed slightly against his tensed body although he held himself up with one arm. How would it feel to just sink against you, he imagined it would feel better than he could fathom and would never want to leave.
It wasn't till his lungs burned and when you wavered in a slight gasp against his mouth did he pull away, sliding to roll to his back and taking a deep breath, committing to his memory all that he loved about that kiss. The way you tasted, smelled, those soft little whimpers at the moments, and the way you had grasped his jacket to hold onto him. All those things would sit in his mind for a while.
You caught your breath, staring up at the night sky in a slight daze, your lips still tingled and you felt warm and pleasantly aroused yet sated all over. This bit of intimate connection had been the first in a long time and you soaked in the sensations it caused. Your hand reached for his and tangled your fingers through his, just needing that slight connection while you came down from the rush.
Curtis squeezed back but didn't break the silence of the moment, not until he started looking up at the night sky and started to pick out the constellations overhead.
Raising his hand to point one out. “There is Pegasus just over us.” His hand was sweeping in a box shape, but you tilted your head back enough to look directly up to where he was pointing at the stars, now bright twinkles in the inky blue-black sky.
You tried to see what he was seeing but completely missed it among all the stars that seemed scattered without care. “I don't know anything about the constellations Curtis.” You admitted and he tilted his head towards yours, still looking up so he could see from your angle.
“See those bright stars right in the middle? They make a square and then veer off to the end like straight lines. That's Pegasus.” He pointed them out again and you saw them. “Then breaking right off from the pegasus side, that's Andromeda.”
You were able to follow now, looking for the other points he was pointing out. “I know the story of Pegasus, being born after slaying the gorgon sister Medusa. But not Andromeda's story.”
“Ahh, she was the chained lady. Her mother bragged about her beauty which enraged the nymphs. In turn, Poseidon demanded retribution for their anger. She was chained to a rock at the sea’s edge as a punishment for her beauty. But she was saved in the end.” Curtis assured you.
“What else is up there?” You questioned him and Curtis studied the stars a bit before pointing out more. The rest of the evening was spent picking out the constellations and discussing the stories behind them.
Summary- 3.5k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Finishing out the week with an invite from some of the fellow teachers for a night at Paulie's, you take them up on a night out of the apartment. Curtis was still firmly on your mind after the field trip and you were looking for the welcome distraction since there was no way a man like that could possibly be interested in a woman like you. Right? Wrong, seems like fate had other plans and Paulies Bar was made for second chances.
Warnings- Some body image issues
A/N- Thank you so much to everyone who has shown such interest and support for this! It really has shocked me and given me confidence in what I'm doing. So thank you, thank you, thank you! A million times. Special thank you to @what-is-your-plan-today for reading this and editing it. I'm a messy writer, so it is much appreciated. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics. Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic. 🐝🍯
Chapter One / Masterlist
Friday night and you managed to doll yourself up a bit for a night to a bar called Paulies. You would be lying if you did not admit that you had spent all week thinking about Curtis from the train yard, and a bit bummed knowing that you probably wouldn’t see him again. It wasn't like you would go seek him out, you were sure that he had long forgotten about you. Men like that wouldn’t be interested in a woman like you. You stared at yourself a bit longer than usual in the mirror, picking out the flaws you saw in yourself. Yes you had a ‘cute’ face as you have been told, but you were too much everywhere else. Your ex certainly made that comment to you all the time.
You stepped back and turned to your side, brushing your hand down your back and over the curve of your ample curved ass. Fuck your ex, you broke up with him for a reason. And you looked damn good, you had the ass to prove it. Your pep talk made you smile, you certainly remembered the way his breath hitched when he saw you, so maybe you were being a bit too hard on yourself.
It didn’t matter, Curtis was a passing moment and how unprofessional would it be for you to just show up at his work because you thought that maybe he was attracted to you. It was obvious, you needed a night out to get him off your mind. This had been going on all week and you needed at least a break from the back and forth debate on what chemistry there was or wasn’t going on at the freightyard.
So when one of the teachers you had made friends with named Claude offered a night out at one of Duluth's secret little hidden treasures, you decided that it was the perfect distraction you needed. Leaning into your mirror, you perfected your eyeliner as much as you were going to be able to, giving a smokey eye look, added a touch of color to your lips and took a step back to make sure the whole look went fine with the off the shoulder top and flowing skirt. All you had left to do was put on your pair of boots with a slight bit of heel and you would be good to go.
A buzz from your phone dropped your gaze, clicking on the screen to bring up the notification ~Ready to head out? I’m downstairs in the metallic gray car.
You glanced up from your phone but couldn't be bothered to answer, instead you grabbed your boots to slip on and jacket. Within seconds you were out the door and down the stairs to go out onto the street. Slipping into Claude's car, your exuberant coworker was checking herself in the mirror before turning to you.
“Y/N! Girl, you clean up nice. I wish I could get my eyes to stand out as much as you can.” She reached over to fiddle with a piece of your clothing and gave a bit of a sigh. “You look so pretty tonight.”
You imagined what the words she left unsaid were, -for that body. She didn't need to, you were used to these kinds of things all your life. Always just a little too much of you for someone to be okay with. Over the years you managed to hide the churning of discomfort these thoughts caused, inside you were trying to shrink yourself, outside you easily flashed Claude a smile of thanks to her compliment.
Claude didn't say anymore, but instead turned on the radio and within a short period of time she was pulling into a parking lot with other cars you recognized from the school. “Okay, no talk of school, students or parents.” She grabbed at her purse while laying out the rules. “Tonight is about having fun!”
“I’m down for that.” You moved to step outside and glanced at the rather unimpressive building. “It looks… charming?”
Claude came around the car, shrugging. “The outside isn’t much, but I promise you are gonna have a good time. Also some good looking singles hang out here.” She hooked her arm through yours, leading you up to the front door.
You chuckled and shook your head softly while going inside. “No, really this is more my speed, I promise.”
Curtis held open the door while Edgar and Grey filed into the bar. “Come on, Paulie really wants to start a dart-throwing team, I think we should make a team. We can get matching shirts.” Edgar rambled on excitedly, having spent the whole day at work trying to get Curtis and Grey to commit to doing a team with him.
Curtis was absolutely not going to wear a matching team shirt.
“We can join in on a tournament. Maybe make some extra spending money.”
Grey led them up to the bar. “And what would we call ourselves Edgar?” He asked while glancing at what was on tap that night.
“I don't know, something cool though. Piercers? Cause like… Darts have that pointy end?” Edgar drummed his hands against the bar, whining. “Come on Paulie, we're dehydrated over here, and is the kitchen open tonight? Cause we're also starving.”
A man at the end of the bar looked frazzled as he worked on making drinks. “Hold yer horses, fuck. It’s just me for now. Serve yerselves, you always do anyways.” Even appearing rushed, Paulie still had a good natured tone welcoming to him, like he thrived on the chaos of serving all the people filling the bar's edge.
Grey took it as an invitation to hop over the bar and draw out three glasses while Edgar turned back to Curtis. “So… what do you think about it, we could be the Piercers!” he made finger guns towards Curtis with an hopeful look.
“Not going to happen.” Curtis muttered as he took the beer Grey offered him and took a drag from it, wiping the foam that got caught on his in the hair of his upper lip away. Grasping the pitcher that was handed over next, he sought out a table near the dart wall where they planned to spend their time.
“Told you man, if you just kept it simple and to the point, he might have been on board.” Grey came back around the bar with another pitcher, joining Curtis who was gathering enough darts for all three of them.
Edgar just rolled his eyes at Grey while setting down the full glasses Grey had handed him earlier on throwaway coasters. “He just doesn't know how to have fun.”
“My idea of fun and yours are two different things Edgar.” Curtis opened the dart board's casing and went to stand at the line indicating where he was to shoot from, taking aim and flinging the first dart to hit the board.
“Oh yeah, what's yours?” Edgar snorted in disbelief as Grey prepared for his own darts. He easily sent them hitting near the targets he was aiming for and Edgar groaned, waving a hand at the board. “See, we could kick ass. This bastard gets almost all the targets.”
Curtis sat himself at the high bar room table, refilling his glass that he half drained earlier. “What do I consider a good time? Fine ass woman in my lap sounds pretty good right now.”
“Like that teacher you were showing around Monday? We all saw you stick pretty close to her.” Grey shot him a knowing look and Curtis felt the swell in his chest at the mere mention of you. It made his heart race thinking about that sweet smile you gave him when you came off the bus with that sweet smile and damn if he wasn't getting a bit of a hard on thinking about the touch of your hand brushing against him, how your touch would feel all over him. He merely grunted in agreement, letting his eyes roam around the room as it was starting to get busier.
“Yeah, she was pretty.” Edgar followed up as he made his own attempt to gain points on the board. The conversation continued on, Curtis drifted away from what they were discussing since they wandered from talking about you.
The bar was picking up, Curtis could hear Paul calling out drink orders to patrons waiting at the bar's edge. That's when his gaze fell on you, standing at the end patiently, clutching a small bag to you while you waited for him to wander back down to your end. Could he really be that lucky? What were the chances you would come to this place? You were just as sweet and soft looking as he remembered. The drape of your skirt hid those curves he got to admire before and this time you had a bit of heel to your boot, making you look slightly taller than before, but not by much. You had on heavier make up, making your eyes look wide eyed as you glanced around the room back towards your table on the other end of the bar. Curtis didn’t believe in fate, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity for him to get to know you better, so maybe it was just a bit of fate and a whole lot of luck. Whatever it was that put you in his path once more, he wasn’t going to let you just walk away again without trying for your number.
“Curtis, it's your turn.” Grey nudged but the game was completely forgotten about. “Curtis?” Grey tried once more thinking Curtis didn't hear him but then he caught sight of you.
“Where is he going?” Edgar asked, puzzled when Curtis abruptly left his friends waiting for him to play and Grey shook his head.
“He’s all done man, just the two of us.”
You were debating about what you wanted. All the others were doing mixed drinks, but you weren't sure if you were up for that tonight, your goal wasn’t to get completely wasted. A touch to your arm made you jump in surprise, your head turning to a gray henley stretching over a broad chest and then upwards to a familiar set of brilliantly blue eyes and a bearded face. You were amused to see that he still had a beanie stretched over the top of his head, hiding away the soft buzz cut you assumed was underneath. “Curtis!” The mere mention of his name had him break out in a shy looking grin, a soft pink going up his neck. “Oh, I never expected to see you here. How uh- have you been?”
Curtis leaned against his forearms on the bar, bringing him down more to your level. “Ah, just blowing off some steam after the work week with a few of the guys.” He didn't bother pointing them out but instead moved closer to you, you swore you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “And you?”
“Letting off some steam as well with a few of the teachers. T-G-I-F you know.” You leaned in a little closer too, drawn closer and seem to forget you were here with your coworkers. “I have never been here, but was told to give it a try. I’m really glad I did now.”
You felt those crystalline blues studying you for a moment, maybe trying to figure out if you were open to his company, which you very much were. “It’s always good to take that chance, never know when something new is going to pay off.” He moved away from you suddenly to go around the bar. “Pauls a friend.” Curtis assured you when you arched a questioning brow at him. “I was just about to refill my beer, what would you like?”
You arched to your tiptoes to lean over the bar enough to look at what was on tap. “What are you having Curtis?”
“Sam Addams tonight.” He admitted as he pulled the tap, leaning the glass just so to keep the foam under control.
“Same, hook me up with one of those.” You said while admiring him work effortlessly, the henley did him nothing but favors, clinging to his chest and showing the shift in muscles under the soft fabric. Curtis grasped another cup and filled it up. You watched him move around the hustle and bustle behind the bar like he was used to it and for such a massive man, that was a hard accomplishment to stay out of everyone's way. “You want to… find someplace a bit quieter to enjoy these?”
“Please.” He said relieved as he came back around and glanced around the room. You followed his gaze to see him looking over by the dart boards, two men watching your interaction intently and one even flashed a thumbs up. You swore red flared the tips of Curtis’s ears while his hand came to rest against the small of your back, slightly steering you the other way towards booths lining the wall. His touch was warm and inviting. You didn't try to move away or anything but sunk into it, falling back closer to him when you two approached the booths.
You could feel the giddy excitement at feeling his very solid frame just behind you steering you towards the quieter section of the bar. “You know, we could have gone back to your friends.” You offered him but fiercely blue eyes darted from them to you and he gave a slight shake of the head.
A man of few words you thought to yourself and was happy with his choice for a more private setting, that was until you two reached a rather small and tight looking booth’s lining along the bars wall. Once you realized where he was leading you, your steps stuttered, causing his chest to brush against you as he bumped into you. You could just see yourself trying to squeeze into the narrow unmoving bench seat, no room to breathe, trying to suck in your stomach so it didn't press into the table's edge and look like it was going to spill over. Your excitement at spending the evening with Curtis was so quickly taking a complete turn all because of a booth.
You were bracing yourself for it, that move where you would try to make yourself look comfortable in a too small space. But Curtis wrapped his hand against your side to stop you and look around before by some saving grace there was a single empty table towards the pool tables that had just been vacated. “Mind if we sit over there instead? My legs are just to fucking long to be comfterable at these things. I keep telling Paul he needs to rip them out.”
You swore you could have kissed that man right there. “Of course.” You said right back in your good mood and you both rushed over to the table to claim its spot. Settling into a seat that you could easily maneuver to fit you, you took a sip off the top of your beer and set it on a cardboard coaster while Curtis made himself comfortable as well. A quick peek under the table showed he wasn't lying, one long leg was stretched out under the table throwing a booted foot practically under your chair. At the booths they would have been knocking knees the whole time. There was an awkward pause of silence, as if neither of you knew where to really start now that you two were alone.
“So is this-”
“Do you-”
You both started at the same time, which you broke into a laugh at the stumble and he cracked a grin too. “Sorry Y/N, what were you saying?”
“So is this your regular place or did your friends insist on coming here?” You restarted and he nodded.
“Yeah a regular, a lot of us from the yard come here afterwards. Paulie is an old friend, knew him since we were kids.”
“Look at the perks, you get behind the bar privileges.” You wiggled your brows and Curtis snorted with a roll of his eyes.
“He did give me a crash course in how to bartend, I'm actually surprised he hasn't tried tonight since it's Friday and appears he didn’t schedule accordingly.”
“It really is pretty busy for him to be doing this alone.” You glanced around, and although busy the atmosphere was pretty laid back, everyone seemed to be having a good time. “Maybe he saw you talking to me and didn’t want to bother you?” You offered a hopeful alternative response and Curtis turned back towards you.
“Maybe, and I'm not complaining. I would rather be in your company anyways. You were really good with the kids the other day. How long have you been at the school?”
“Not too long, I just moved here from the east coast. I was offered a job and needed to get away, so here I am. Been here since July at this point. It’s nice.” You looked down at your glass, fiddling with it. Curtis seemed to pick on your unease at the mention of you moving and instead turned your attention to the pool table.
“How about a game? It’s been a while since I've played.”
You once more lightened up, pushing up to a stand while giving a shrug. “Well I’ve never played, so teach me?”
“Think I can do that.” He gave a wink and started to explain the game while getting the table ready.
Turns out pool was just what was needed, you two spent the next couple hours playing the game terribly and teasing one another. A couple pitchers littered your table, leaving you giggling with a buzz and Curtis although still his usual quiet self, a bit more relaxed. He wouldn't hesitate to move up behind you and let his hands rest on your hips to readjust you, lean over and point out the ball for you to shoot for, which whenever you missed, clanking the balls all over the table, you would give a moan of defeat and a sigh.
They were noises Curtis didn’t seem to mind though, every time you gave them you felt him press in closer, distracting you with the smell of his cologne and a genuine grin that made his whole demeanor brighten up. You finally admitted to defeat when you glanced up at the clock and saw that it was edging on one am. “Shit, I wonder if my ride is even still here.” You giggled as you leaned on Curtis’s side, looking around the room.
“Who did you come with?”
“Some coworkers took me out, but they seem to have left.” You felt for your phone, checking to see if Claude happened to text you. Which she did, hours ago. Apparently she had left on a hookup. “Shit.” You muttered, trying to clear your mind from the buzz. “I will just call an uber.”
“I will just go settle up our tab and wait with you.” He started to dig out his wallet and you protested, digging into the bag you brought.
“You can get it next time Y/N” Curtis assured you.
“Would you want there to be a next time?” You stopped trying to dig out some cash and Curtis flashed a knowing grin.
“I’m counting on a next time.” Curtis said with confidence while gathering up the pitchers off the table and your glasses, he brought them over to the bar which Paul came down to gather. You noticed that one of his friends sidled up to him, the two of them falling into a serious looking conversation that had Curtis taking a glance your way.
You did your best not to look like you were staring at the wide expanse of his shoulders in the Henley shirt.
Grey came up on Curtis’s other side, also pulling out his wallet to settle up.
“Headed out with the teacher?” Handing over his card, the men waited for Paulie to finish ringing them out.
“Just waiting on an uber to pick Y/N up. She came with some coworkers, but they left.” Curtis frowned to himself as he tucked his card back into his wallet and into his pocket. “Dick move for them to just leave her, but whatever. I don’t mind waiting with her.”
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Grey observed as he did the same with his card. “You should ask her out again.”
“Hmm… See you Monday.” Curtis cut the conversation short to leave Grey at the bar alone to rejoin you.
When he came back, you were scowling at your phone, a worried wrinkle in your brow. “It will take forever for an uber to get here. I should have called earlier.” You looked at him and gave an apologetic smile. “You don’t have to wait with me.”
Curtis shrugged, not bothered by it. “I don’t mind, but I did drive here myself. I can give you a ride home if you want?”
You seemed to contemplate his offer and Curtis wouldn’t have blamed you if you refused, you didn’t really know him after all but he felt he should at least make the offer. Your answer turned to one he wasn’t exactly expecting, but he was happy with it. “You really don’t mind?”
“Not at all Y/N.” He pulled out his key and pushed open the door for you to go out into the chilly night, beeping his trucks lights so you knew where to head to.
The ride home you had the window down partially so the cold night air could help clear your head and when he pulled onto your block, he eased up to the set of apartments you directed him too. “I had a good time tonight Curtis, thank you.” You fiddled with your phone and held it up. “Want my number?”
Curtis had never been so quick to hand his phone over so you could put your number in. He waited as you finished and gathered yourself together to make your way inside. It was minutes before his phone dinged, you assuring him you were safe inside and thanking him once more for the pool lesson.
Fuck you were so damn sweet, he hoped to find out just how much.
Summary- 2.4k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. The first field trip of the year with your middle school class landed the bus in the Duluth's Freight Yard, intent on teaching the children about the city's vital industries. You were ready with the kids and your flashcards, what you weren't ready for was the large man with the icy blue eyes and quiet demeanor showing you around.
A/N- This became a personal passion project around January and I'm in love with this soft series where Curtis is given something good in a modern AU setting. You all have been so supportive of the snippets I have shared about these two, so thank you for that. It has certainly kept me wanting to write and excited to share Curtis and Honey. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics A HUGE thank you to @what-is-your-plan-today for betaing this project. Remember, likes are nice, shares and comments really keep creators going. 🍯🐝
Masterlist
“So you ready for the rugrats coming to visit the yard?” Edgar questioned the second Curtis stepped out of his truck in the train yards employee parking. Tugging his beanie on to combat the early September chill that signaled the beginning of fall, he arched a brow in question while he grunted.
To be fair, it was more of an answer than Edgar was expecting. The younger man was used to it, Curtis was a man of few words. It's what made his presence almost commanding. He only said something when he had something to say. “Gillian just filled me in,” Edgar explained as he looked at Curtis, who gave a small nod of understanding, “The mayor is funding an educational thing where we teach kids what jobs are available around here.”
“As long as they dont get in the way.” Curtis shrugged as he shed his extra jacket and tossed it in the truck's cab before closing his door and locking it. “This place is too dangerous for kids to be running around.”
Edgar started following him, hands in his pockets to warm them up as they both entered into a rundown building where the office was. Punching in his time card, Curtis stuffed his paperwork in an allotted slot, Edgar mimicking his actions. Across the room the office manager was on the phone, agitation coming through her tone.
“Well you sending that 10:30 train up that North track is not gonna do me any damn good when the buyer was expecting that shipment YESTERDAY.” The men paused at the desk, listening as Tanya unleashed a whole mess of words on the poor person on the other end before she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, yes I will call them and fill them in. Just make sure it gets here, the last thing I need is to be made a liar.” She hit the end call and turned towards Curtis and Edgar, her anger diminishing and good nature returning like it was on the head of a pin. “I'm guessing you two are looking for this?” She held up a shipping manifest which Edgar snatched and scanned it. “Well that ain't too bad.” Curtis glanced down at the paperwork in Edgar’s hands as the young man examined it. Tanya continued on.
“Nope, why I think you and Grey can handle it, he's already down in the yard. Curtis, Gillian has something else for you. He’s in his office, just go on in Sweetheart.” Only Tanya was allowed to use terms of endearment on Curtis.
“Thanks Tanya.” He tipped his head in a nod and left, leaving Edgar leaning against the counter, making eyes at Tanya and whining out.
“Come on Tanya, why does Curtis get the good jobs? You don't love me?”
“Boy you got some growing to do before I be sweet on you, get your ass out of here.”
You managed to get your students loaded on the bus without any mishaps or fighting. While you weren't expecting anything to happen, your eighth grade class was all in all pretty decent, there were the occasional occurrences with you still being a fairly new teacher to the school and they wanted to see what they could possibly get away with. It was a relief when everything happened just the way it was supposed to. Settling in the seat right behind the kindly old bus driver named Steve, you started to sort through your flashcards.
You didn't really know much about train yards in general, so you spent the night before pulling together some questions to ask in case the students didn't have any to engage with the employee who would be showing them around. Scanning them now, you winced a bit as you chewed on your plump bottom lip, feeling that your flashcards were not all that good, but something was better than nothing you decided when you pocketed them in your plaid belted coats pocket, making sure to tighten the strap a bit around yourself. You continued to fidget though, really wanting this to all go smoothly since this was your first field trip with your class, in a new school. Instinctively you reached up to fiddle with the little bumble bee dangles you were wearing.
It wasn't long before the school bus turned into an industrial sized train yard. Cargo cars were lined up in neat numbered rows, several trains appeared to be unloading supplies and heavy machinery was moving it into designated cars for storage. A shabby little office sat next to what looked to be employee parking and the bus creaked to a stop out of the way of any incoming vehicles. Before you pulled yourself to a stand to address your students you glanced out the window to see a big burly man dressed all in black come stalking out of the office and rounding on the bus. You assumed that must be the employee who volunteered to show you around. You didn't see much of his expression as his head was tilted, but the little you did looked all hard and serious.
Standing and turning to your students who were still joking around and grabbing their clipboards with papers for taking notes, you cleared your throat. “Okay everyone, you all know the rules. We stay together, okay. This is a class trip, so we will conduct ourselves with respect for these people at their place of business.”
“Miss Y/L/N…” came a kid's voice from the back, a red curly head of a boy named Andrew popping up as he leaned against the top of a seat. “We know!”
“Yes, I know you all know. But reminders don’t hurt, we all need them.” You retorted while gathering your stuff in your arms. “And Andrew, stop hanging on the seat like that.” You finished as you turned back around and the shuffling behind you let you know that the kids were lining up in the aisle. Pausing at the bus driver, you put your hand on his shoulder. “Be back in a while.”
Already Steve was pulling out a pad of paper and charcoal for sketching, giving you a wink and kindly smile. “Take your time Miss Y/L/N. They don't need me back till the end of the day.” Leaning forward, he maneuvered the door open and you started down the stairs. Careful as you didn’t want to trip on the bus stairs when your foot connected with the ground you looked up and gave a squeak of surprise.
You had seen the man leaving the office before, but up close and personal, he wasn't what you were expecting. You actually had to tip your head back at what you were guessing was a good six foot four or five inches with a broad chest that managed to make you feel small somehow. A dark beard covering half his face with a full bottom lip showing and icy blue eyes that seemed to rarely warm up, under the brim of a black beanie hat.
“H-hi!” you cleared your voice and gave a smile, which made his pupils widen slightly before his gaze softened just a bit. Otherwise, it was almost impossible to read his expression. Your hand shot out towards a broad sweater clad chest. “My name is Miss Y/L/N and the kids behind me are the eighth grade students of Mason Academy.” A cheer of hellos sounded from behind you and those icy eyes broke their stare off you to look behind you. You felt air reenter your body at the break from his gaze, and you couldn't help the rush of excitement that laced into the pit of your stomach.
Jesus a man who could possibly handle me… and maybe I shouldn't be lecturing the kids about respect while you are checking him out like this.
Chiding yourself as some thoughts raced through your mind, his hand reached out, rough and calloused, it just about swallowed yours as he gave a brief shake before pulling away all too soon. “Name’s Curtis Everett, just call me Curtis. None of that mister stuff.” You could see him take a swallow and you really couldn't help but grin slightly realizing that maybe he was a bit nervous. “So um- yeah I'm gonna show you all around and be answering any questions anyone might have about how the train yard works.”
Taking a step closer to the man in black, you gave a flirty little grin. “Lead the way, Curtis.”
Curtis had been surprised to see the literal goddess that stepped off that bus, the last thing he expected. He felt his heart race and mind go blank when you tilted your face to look up at him. That had never happened to him before, not to the best of his recollection, had a woman ever stunned him speechless.
It wasn't till that stuttered ‘hi’ that his brain started functioning again. Partially anyway. It wasn't stopping the thoughts of how soft you looked in your long plaid coat with the sash tight enough to shape the coat to your body, or the uplift tone in your voice or the way you were looking back at him with wide surprised eyes, yet determined as you stepped closer to shake his hand.
And your touch when he finally took it, no you were too good for him. Your touch was warm and soft in his hand, everything he really wasn't.
Fuck he was screwed and he couldn't believe he let Gillian talk him into doing this. But he had a job to do, so he resigned himself to making an attempt.
It ended up going decent enough, Curtis thought. The kids actually made the effort to ask questions that would engage him in conversations about the daily management of the train yard and what it meant to the businesses in the area. But it was your questions he was eager to answer.
You were grateful to your students, as you barely had to turn to your flashcards. It wasn't until near the end of the tour when the kids started losing interest and forming their typical groups of friends that you started shuffling through your cards. Curtis was walking next to you, it was impossible to not feel flustered at how close he was, his hands stuffed in his trench coats pockets and his gaze was unwavering focused ahead as he waited for your next question. You should look away, but you couldn't as his side profile was making those excited butterflies in your belly from earlier flutter. Your brain screamed when he turned that look on you.
Focus Y/N!
Your fingers fumbled when you knew you were caught staring and the cards went scattering to your feet. “Oh, fuc-dge.” Catching yourself you squatted down to gather them up. “I'm so clumsy I swear, you can't fix this kind of mess.” It was so automatic to make apologies. Cursing inwards at yourself, it wasn't till Curtis grabbed a card you were going to grasp that you looked up from the ground and was almost face to face with the man. He was reading the cards as he picked them up, eyes scanning back and forth until he looked up from the cards. Again you were caught up in the actual beauty of his features. He had lashes that any woman would have killed for and a smatter of barely there freckles across his nose.
“I see nothing that needs to be fixed Miss Y/L/N.” He stated simply as he held the cards out to you once more and pushed himself to a stand. His hands took yours, grasping your forearms gently while he helped you raise up easily.
Your earlier assessment was right… He is strong if he can help lift you up.
“Why thank you, Mr.Everett.”
“Curtis, please… Mr.Everett was my granddad.” He said and flashed you a smile, probably the first one you've seen and it made you return it in relief.
“I guess I better get these kids back to school unless there is more to see?” You asked almost hopefully and Curtis gave a shake of his head. “Well then, thank you, Curtis. For the wonderful informative trip, okay kids. Back on the bus.” You waved your hand for them to get back on. You and Curtis waited at the end, you counting kids getting on while Curtis would give the occasional nod of his head every time one of them thanked him. When it was just the two of you, you stepped on, turning suddenly once more face to face. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Curtis.” You said genuinely and once more you earned a soft smile in his typically stoic features.
“As it was mine as well. Take care Miss Y/L/N.”
“Oh! I'm sorry, it's Y/N.” Giving a wave you stepped up and the door closed. As you made your way back to the seat you were in earlier, you immediately glanced out the window to see the broad shouldered man walking away, slightly haunched to the cold wind in his retreating form.
“Are you ready to return to the school Teach?” Steve asked and you hummed a yes, taking one last look at Curtis before you returned to real life.
Returning to the school, you pushed one tall brooding man to the back of your mind while the students filed off. You ended up helping the driver check all the seats for any forgotten items from the kids. On your way off, you happened to catch sight of Steve's drawing pad on the dashboard and plucked it up. It was a perfect rendering of the train yard, including quick sketches of the group returning back to the bus. In the front was a rough sketch of you and Curtis engaged in conversation. “This… is amazing. I can’t believe you did this while we were walking around.”
Steve came back up, giving a shrug. “Hobby of mine, sitting all that time behind the wheel waiting on you Teach’s educating those kids, well I gotta do something. You all basically remained in view so it was easy to replicate.”
“Do you think I could have this?” You questioned with hope and he plucked a pencil that he had tucked into a shirt pocket and motioned for you to hand it over. At the bottom, he scribbled his initials and pulled the page out of his book.
“Sure Teach.”
Making your way off, you continued to admire the drawing before you tucked it away in your paperwork.
touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader
Horny Teen, part two (see previous or series)
Summary: A late-summer heat wave hits you and Steve hard.
Warnings for smut (kinda unprotected sex, momentarily--guess that's dubcon to be safe--fingering, lots of foreplay things and dirty talk but Steve can't actually talk dirty, so...hot talk? IDK, gang, I 'bout died writing this. Prepare thy loins, babes). MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this series is not for you! WC 3.1k
A/N: This part contains a cannibalized version of the original idea for this series, but since we've developed differently to this point, it is very different.
He calls ahead. For the first time in a year of visiting, he calls ahead and knows you aren’t working the night he’ll be here.
You work in the garden as long as you can stand before hopping in a cool shower. You aren’t even wrapped in a towel when the trill of your room phone—extension 14, as Steve now knows it—blares through multiple closed doors.
He’s checked-in, and in Room Two, but no pressure, if you want, if you don’t have plans, he’s here. It is the most adorable and awkwardest conversation of all time. It also never gets old to hear him scramble for the simplest of sentiments.
Translation: I’m excited to see you.
Your heart soars then immediately stalls in the stifling weather.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” you chuckle.
Of course, he opens his arms for a bear hug the instant the door labeled ‘2’ swings wide. Steve has fewer troubles with platonic affection when alone, that’s for sure, but who could blame him? You’re elated he’s here under any circumstances.
Record-setting heat this late in the summer has left all the AC units taxed to the brink, running constantly, and even with the in-room thermostat set stupidly low, a tank top and shorts is too much.
This means another first: both of you, in bed, naked.
Nothing’s happened, mind, because the swelter of the day zapped energy out of every creature for miles and miles around. The ice machine can’t keep up with eight rooms and your family needing relief from the blaze. From the bright stripe of red across Steve’s cheeks and his earthy musk, he was outside plenty. He’s wiped, too.
You wonder absently when the last time he wore cologne was and what it smelled like. Perhaps he never used it. Perhaps he misses small luxuries more than he ever realized.
Steve looks on the brink of heat-stroke, so you inched yourself onto one side of the bed to start, thinking skin-to-skin contact might be unwelcome. You barely got your palms on the sheets before he pulled you to him. You did not fight it.
It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him—and it is.
Your cheek settles on his chest, eyes watching through the sheer curtains as dusk takes over the sky, a happy man stretched like a cat beneath you, smiling, heart beat slowing in your ear. So strong, so steady, so secure.
He’s safe. He’s comfortable. That’s all that matters.
You peer up from your perch. The thin worry lines on his forehead have relaxed. He seems younger. Freedom looks good on Steve Rogers, just as good as it looks on Captain America, maybe better.
You fall asleep straddling his hips, one knee hitched so the crook of your ankle drapes his thigh, slowly pushed up and down by his deep breaths.
You’re drifting, rocked gently by powerful waves in the nothingness of your blank mind, free like him, blooming in the warmth of a bright sun embracing you.
The glow continues until Steve gently shakes you awake.
The room is pitch black, the lights of the parking lot too muted to pass through the gossamer layer over the window.
“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare,” his rough timber booms close to your ear.
“No, I—“ you wipe at your face “—I don’t think I was dreaming.”
Steve’s not so relaxed under you now. His abs quake slightly, and those slow breaths have become stunted, shallow with control.
“Did you?” you ask, looking towards his face, useless in the dark but your drowsy brain hasn’t caught up yet.
There’s a shuffling noise above you.
“Is that a ‘yes?’ Did you have a nightmare? You alright?”
The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes,” and you lift your arm to brace on his chest. It unhooks your leg from his, and the hard length of his erection moves from its perch at your ass, nudging the joint of your hip and thigh from below.
“Not—not a nightmare,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”
Steve’s voice is husky, his grip on the back of your knee tight and unyielding, keeping you from trapping him between your legs.
Your impulse is to soothe him, to tell him he is fine and it is okay to be turned on, generally, when naked and pressed to someone you find attractive—hell, you definitely are—but if he wants you to ignore it, if he’d rather not, if it’s too soon or too hot (metaphorically, physically) or just too much right now, then you respect that. None of this has ever been about making him feel like how he chooses to receive affection is wrong.
Without moving any limbs, your fingers retract and relax, a gentle, nailless scratch to his broad pec beneath your hand, and his cock twitches, tapping your leg.
“Sorry,” Steve huffs.
“Do you want me to get off of you?” You suppress the urge to make a minor edit in that statement because it’s very close to what you want to do.
The shuffling noise sounds different.
“No,” he says softly.
You slide your hand up his chest to his neck and around the back of his head, petting the corner of his bearded jaw just below his ear, careful to use as few muscles as possible.
His cock taps you again anyway. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
You ignore it, as asked, and continue scratching lightly at his scalp.
“Hey,” you start in the darkness, “is this comfortable?”
You run your fingertips over his features while he nods, following his jaw up and down.
Unable to see, this paints the most vivid picture of Steve’s reactions. You feel the vibration of a hum through his cheek, the draw and release of his brow as you skate over his forehead. You hear his short chuckle when you brush ever-so-gently across his long lashes and boop his nose. Finally, you trace his open-mouth smile with the edge of your thumb, his ragged exhale rushing over your palm.
Tap.
“Sorry.”
“Comfy though?”
His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Yeah.”
The drag of your fingers past the edge of bristly stubble and down his throat makes him shiver.
Twitch.
“Sorry.”
You flutter across his collarbone, wondering if that means he’s ticklish on more than just his sides.
“Comfy?”
He hums. You feel it rattle your cheek as much as you actually hear it in your ears.
You continue. His corded muscles giving only slightly to the pressure of your touch. His arm, his chest, down to the hand he keeps on your leg.
Several more breathy apologies sound above you. Steve’s other arm is draped over your waist, and with every pulse of need that betrays him, his grip tightens just a little. His fingers now dig into your soft flesh absently.
It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how his abs won’t stop tensing, searching for attention where he denies it.
You flatten your hand to his chest and make to move.
“May I?”
Steve’s swallow is louder than the ‘okay’ he returns.
You are careful not to push him in any weird angles as you raise up to your knees and straddle him, pinning his erection beneath you, not directly between your folds but nestled at the apex of your legs, just so he won’t have to worry about every involuntary poke.
With such fresh contact, he clenches his ass hard in response, lifting your whole weight completely before he settles again. The surge of heat to your core has you biting your lip to muffle a moan.
“Comfy?” you rasp at the same moment Steve offers a strangled “sorry.”
The low, constant whine of the air conditioner fills the hollow space around your cocoon of anticipation.
“New plan,” you laugh, relaxing your fingers to splay across his warm skin, “both of us stop doing that, huh? You have nothing to be sorry for, and I’ll trust you to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.”
“So…” Steve shuffles on the sheets, but whatever he moves doesn’t affect your position. “Can I touch you?”
You bite your lip harder before answering, your voice dropping to a sweet reassurance. “Yes. Of course you can, Stevie.”
You keep your pets of his chest and arms light, trying not to tickle him. He’s always so hesitant; you’re worried the tiniest misstep will send him back into his head—not in a good way.
The silence now feels purposeful, dense with possibility, and then rough fingertips land like a foreign explorer who’s braved months at sea solely to experience this moment.
A calculated inhale and exhale rock your pelvis, a wave of nerves foaming in your gut.
He starts innocently enough, mapping your thighs, muttering something about how soft they are, but you don’t dare lean to hear him better. No sudden movements. None. Even though your skin lights up as explosive as those 4th of July fireworks you missed.
Since there’s nothing to see in the room, you feel everything.
He keeps to the periphery of you at first, abandoning your legs to brush the same arms touching him, running fingers together, separating them just as quickly, caressing your palms gently, and dragging his short nails up your wrists without pressure.
You stiffen in pleasure, fighting not to shrink away from the purest intimacy you’ve ever experienced.
His long arms reach the curve of your shoulders, flit across your collarbone, and you’re doing your damndest to keep it together, leaning your head back in lieu of talking.
Don’t scare him.
It can’t last; you’re only human.
Steve’s hands slowly descend over your breasts, middle fingers catching your peaking nipples, and a lewd and aching cry tumbles from your bitten lips.
The force of it surprises you, but more surprising still is him, unfazed, encouraged to linger.
In that low timber, he growls.
“You like that… Knew you would.”
Your body throbs, pulsing with need and emptiness.
That means he thinks of you. He’s imagined this. He’s wanted this.
Stunning electricity shoots through your body as he pinches and twists, squeezes and kneads. Nothing too harsh, but he’s highly motivated when you purr and gasp atop him.
What else does he think about doing? How long has he fantasized? Is this as good as his imagination?
Yours aren’t the only noises now. He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan.
Arousal pools at your folds, and without realizing you started to move, the shy momentum of your hips has nudged his length to lay flush with your dripping center. His tip glides over your clit.
Again and again.
Again and again.
A hot pressure builds in you, faster than ever, kerosene dumped on your wet-dreams and burned to life, a spell manifest in the night.
Steve shakes beneath the palms you brace flat on his chest, the heels digging into his diaphragm.
He moves to grip your thighs hard.
Fire spreads beneath your skin as you two pant and gasp, his whole cock slick and slotted so close to where you truly long for him.
“Wait,” Steve groans, but you can’t understand.
No one could imagine how good this feels, how much you need this, how—
He sits up to stop you, accidentally notching himself at your entrance, your residual motion sliding the thick head of him past the that first, tight ring.
Steve’s lusty moan is barely eclipsed by your own, and you’re too close to halt sheathing him within you, arms instinctively wrapping his shoulders. Desire winds the coil in your belly too taut, the thought of losing this climax unbearable.
“N-uhhh god—“
He’s too sensitive though. He flips you both so your back crashes to the soft sheets and digs his grip into your side, his other hand thumping to anchor on the headboard. Steve sucks air through his teeth like he’s afraid the faintest smell of sex will set him off.
“Don—don’t move,” he orders in thick command.
It makes things worse.
You’re so close, vaulting off the ground and suspended by legs clamped around his waist, dangling on the precipice of ecstasy. You whine and clench, totally unable to control yourself, your nails digging into his back.
Steve cries out, choked at the hilt by your desperation and lost to his own finish.
His hand races from your side to your ass. He pulls out of you only to slot himself there and thrust his cock between your cheeks, cum shooting on the sheets below.
Mindlessly, you ride the cut of his abs, his course pubic hair adding almost enough friction to keep ascending toward your own end, but the void left behind is too consuming. The fire sputters and dims.
Steve buries his face in your neck, breath cooling the sweat lining your skin as he curls away from you, overwhelmed.
“Swear I was gonna wait,” he confesses to the tender spot behind your ear. “I swear.”
“Please,” you croak, tears prickling your eyes in lament for your ruined orgasm.
“Was gonna be better. Swear I’ll do better for you.”
You grope and claw at those thick arms which hold all but his face far away. “Please,” you beg pathetically, “fucking touch me, please.”
A drawn out grunt vibrates the column of your throat.
“Y’shouldn’t have ta beg...”
He shifts to his forearm, caging you in as you plead over and over. He kneels to hover, and your thighs weakly squeeze at his own to emphasize what you need.
“Sounds so pretty when you do…”
Something between a screech and a snarl erupts from your chest.
Steve shushes you, smoothing a big hand across your damp cheek, and quietly, he commands you, “show me what to do.”
Your quivering hold guides him by the wrist down your body. Words to instruct him won’t form in your sex-steeped brain. As luck would have it, he doesn’t need specifics.
“Next time I’ll taste you.” One finger teases your folds in search of his entrance. “Next time you’ll have to beg me to stop.” Two fingers drive forward, displacing a gush of your shared juices. “So wet,” he groans, agonized to silence when you jerk his hand to thrust faster.
“More.”
He sets a loving and delicate pace, the heel of his palm working your clit.
Too delicate.
“More,” you gasp.
He obliges, muttering how good he’ll be to you from now on. You’ll always be first. He promises.
The fire takes over again.
“More, Stevie. Please.”
You grind down on him to prove your point, and he marvels that this isn’t too rough for you.
Each strangled breath ties your moans together in a crescendo worthy of Carnegie Hall.
“God,” he rumbles by your ear again, “I know that sound. You’re close, aren’t you?”
Steve’s pumping fingers bully your body farther and farther up the bed, using only a taste of his real strength.
Your chant of ‘yes’ catches in your taxed lungs. He doesn’t need an answer though.
The super-stretched band snaps, a plateau of peace and weightlessness tipped at the vertex until—crash—nerves are razed all along you like a carpet-bombed battlefield.
“Uhnn, is that what you’re gonna feel like around me?” He sighs at the thought and stills his hand just to commit the ripple to memory. “How’m I s’pose to last?”
You slap a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hold in your yelp of relief.
That mouth…that fucking mouth of his is a weapon all its own.
Tiny explosions wreak havoc on you, body and soul, as his fingers greedily coax you to keep coming—just a little more—just for him—one last rush—give him everything.
His lips open in your palm, but you grip his face harder.
You can’t. You can’t listen right now. You can’t hear one more dangerously sexy, completely innocent thing fall from his beautiful mouth.
Steve lets his hand go lax but doesn’t take it away from your clenched and spasming thighs.
He tries to speak again then gives up, waiting.
Finally, before you can collapse boneless to the bed, he hooks his arm behind your leg so you don’t land on the cold, cum-stained sheets.
He shakes off your forgotten grip of his jaw.
“Tops?” he whispers, patience personified in the long pause before you hum acknowledgment. “Can I kiss you?”
That fucking mouth…
There’s barely enough breath in you to make a sound, but the instant the ‘ye—’ forms in the back of your throat, Steve’s lips are on yours.
It's your first real kiss, of all the ways, after all this time, following all that.
You’d laugh if you weren’t smiling, suffocating in the gentle press that becomes deep and adoring. He kisses you thoroughly after each frantic gasp for air, savoring you, even in the reckless passion of the moment.
Steve rolls to lay you atop him again, more intimately than before. He keeps his face close, sharing breath even in the heat and stench of sex in the room, your wetness now smeared from his navel to his knee.
Turns out, he is a very good kisser, focusing on the act of physical connection. Not only do your lips touch, but he likes to nudge you into whatever minutely different position with his nose. He likes to nuzzle his beard on your sensitive skin until you giggle and squirm. He relishes you like you relish him.
He whispers things too soft to make out at first. It takes him a while to find his voice, to push past his insecurities, to find his confidence, but eventually, you hear it.
He mumbles how he should have been better, more prepared.
You weave all your fingers through his hair, propped on his chest by your elbows, smiling so he’ll be able to tell in your tone.
“Take the win, Cap.”
You freeze.
You’ve never called him that, and Steve stays silent for an excruciating beat.
“Sorry,” you offer in the dark, air conditioner churning out sobering drafts of reality.
Steve runs his knuckles gently in patterns across your bare back. There’s a short huff and an amused snort, you mind scrambling to plan some explanation as to why you’d haul the drama of out there into his safe space.
He guides you to settle against him again, tucking you into his strong hold with his chin resting on your forehead.
After what feels like an eternity, he simply asks, “comfy?”
touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader
Sensitive Boy, part I (see previous or series)
Summary: Steve surprises you with help at the perfect time.
Warnings for light smut (I have to split this chapter or it's just suddenly twice as long as the last, but really there's just massage and an implied orgasm in this half. You know me: too many feels and too much development...) MINORS DNI. This series is 18+ only. If you are underage or simply enjoy lighter content, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this post is not for you! WC 3.2k
With so much on your mind, scaring the crap out of you is not difficult, so his strong hands hold you upright.
“Don’t do that,” you shriek, barely glancing at Steve’s face. You startled so suddenly your housekeeping cart is left rolling away at a snail’s pace.
“Sorry, I—“ long arms abandon you and reach to stop the bin “—it said on your website you were closed for renovations, and…”
You look him up and down. You were sure after he left two months ago that you’d never see him again. You’d gone too far. You’d pushed him too hard. He wasn’t ready.
Steve adjusts the strap over his shoulder. “I thought maybe I could help out…if you want?”
The last guests checked out a half-hour ago, and you readied to spend the whole week meticulously refreshing each room with your parents. The list of what needs done, however, doesn’t only include the motel. There’s a bunch you all had let slide up at the house. Help would…be extremely helpful actually.
Steve pulls a paper bag out of his knapsack. “Or I brought you some lunch if you just want a break or something.”
“It’s okay,” you rush out. “More than okay. Thank you, yes. We’d love—I’d love that.”
No one else can know it’s him-him there though. You’ll have to think of a way to keep your parents and St-‘Grant’ as far apart as possible, and how long you can manage that is…questionable.
If Steve’s not worried though, you’re okay.
Turns out, keeping your family up at the house is easy. Your mom shouts down the phone with relief that she can tackle the fridge, and you hear your dad mumble something about ‘the garage in daylight.’ You can enjoy a sandwich in the office with Steve in peace, explaining what all needs done before the electricians show up Friday afternoon.
The closure hasn’t been planned for a long time—not even before Steve and ‘Tom’s’ last visit—hence why you just painted Room 8, 5, 2, and 1 since March, but doing all those is how you and your parents really noticed that the light fixtures from the ‘90s were not only dated but very worn and that the same color layered over and over again for twenty years was, well, getting old.
Warmer months are better for the work. Pipes won’t freeze while you air out paint fumes, etc. The week after the gigantic, city festivities of Independence Day is notoriously dead. Since there were no reservations this stretch as of April, the family jumped at the chance to fix it all in one big, daunting go.
Saying you’d looked forward to this is a wild overstatement. You’ll be glad when it’s finished, and that’s the bulk of your excitement.
With his assistance though? Hope soars.
Steve will help you take down the sconces, the hanging lamps, and the panels above the vanities, then you both can—
“Where’s the paint?”
He’s very intense with the gameplan. Three guesses why.
“Dad’s gonna pick it up today. Probably. I’ll text him.” You whip out your cell again. “We didn’t think we’d get that far by evening.”
Steve nods.
“We also need to move all the furniture away from the walls and drape plastic to protect the carpet. Oh, and put tape along the trim and doorframes, ya know.”
Steve nods again. He wads up the wrapping from his sandwich and casually asks, “are all the doors open?”
You only just get your finger in the air to point at the desk.
“Master key is—“
But Steve is observant and has clocked everything about his surroundings each time he’s stayed, apparently. He stretches over to the wall beyond the counter, snatches the (correct) unmarked key, and heads out the door.
The service bell rings gently to emphasize the conversation is over.
All furniture in every room is pulled away by the time you finish sanitizing the one guest room he interrupted.
He asks where you keep the ladder, not that he’ll need it, but you will for reaching some of the lights.
You don’t know whether to be in awe of or exhausted by his efficiency.
He’s rigid and militant—go figure—until these few moments he suddenly can’t be.
As you toss plastic over the last bed to move, Steve yanks that sucker across the floor so fast, you roll off. His eyes are saucers as he apologizes, but you get the giggles and pick yourself up.
His fingers can’t separate thin layers of the plastic at one point, and he throws a minor fit until three rip apart together. Steve frowns at you and grumbles that he’s only ever used cloth for this before. It seems to take everything in his power not to say “back in my day,” but you can read between the lines.
Years of crusted paint makes the removal of some fixtures tricky.
Steve rips out one stripped screw with needle nose pliers, squeaks in alarm at the hole left behind, and then quietly asks if you have patch paste.
You call your dad before he’s left to buy paint. He adds spackling to the list.
The closest Steve comes to telling you anything specifically about himself is when you struggle with a stuck bolt.
“Just a little trick I learned when I was—“ Steve wraps his big hand around yours to pull the wrench instead of push from the other direction “—smaller.” He huffs out a laugh, adding, “when I couldn’t, ya know, ‘put my weight into it’ because a feather could’a knocked me over.”
As you relish the simple contact of his fingers, you smile, too.
“Hmm. I heard you got into back alley scrapes.”
“If you heard that I won any of those, you were lied to.” He patiently waits for you to finish removing the bolt before he pries the aged metal and glass away from the old paint it’s stuck in. Steve sighs dramatically.
“Shoddy education these days…”
“I…” You tap his bicep with the claws of the wrench. “I can’t argue with that. We hear only what they tell us about…heroes.”
You should have known he’d shut down at that word, but it’s the truth. Even with him right in front of you, the only things you know about Steve Rogers are from books, newspapers, and the internet. At face value—looking directly into the face of this man—all of what you’ve been told is hogwash. It’s insufficient. It barely covers 1% of who this man is.
He teaches you tricks of the weak man’s trade because it helped him once, too. Today, he’s friendly. Not that he was unfriendly before, but Steve is so reserved he never reference the past, in general, i.e. that there was a past existence of like the planet much less him.
It’s the number one rule of Fight Club: you don’t talk about Fight Club.
If there was ever a real fight club, it’s the Avengers.
You have no official rules for what this is between you. You don’t have to to know that is the most important one. You do not talk about Fight Club. Steve isn’t afraid of silence, that much is clear, but he isn’t a fan. He tries—he is trying—to connect and relate. He can’t be a man of the people, however, if he can’t talk to the people.
It’s important: connection. You know with every fiber of your being that Steve deserves it, but even with unlimited, super-human strength, he cannot get himself out from between this rock and that hard place.
You do not talk about Fight Club, especially when you’ve been kicked out of Fight Club.
Today, though, he’s a little different, a little softer. Perhaps it’s knowing there are no other people in the building, perhaps he is truly more comfortable with you, but either way, Steve is not flat or off-putting.
His organized persona, his focus on the work, his indirect interactions and practical touch; they all fit here while he has a project. It’s the closest he can be to his old self, maybe even his real self, without mentioning the past—the fighting past—at all.
“You’re really good company,” you tell Steve, “even when you make holes in the walls.”
He tilts his head down and blushes. He shrugs as he takes the sconce out to the dumpster. Although he didn’t say it, you hope this is okay.
Either way, you relish it. The help. The touch. The silence. All of it.
You relish Steve.
Your dad brings by the paint, spackling, and a surprise of pizza for dinner while Steve is taping the baseboards in a corner. You introduce ‘Grant’ from afar and haul the cans and boxes from the car to the room, cataloguing all you two have finished to this point and what you’ll do before stopping for the night.
Dad is impressed. He’d suspected the three of you—you, he, and Mom, that is—might settle for slapping some paint up around where the electrician would install the new lights. No one planned on getting this far in one evening.
He won’t stand in the way of progress, so your dad simply calls out, “bit of an artist, are ya?”
Steve looks up, confident with only the side table lamps plugged in, he can barely be seen. “Just want to be useful,” he mutters.
You wink at your dad as he heads back to the still-running car. “Grant is a jack of all trades.”
You’re sure to thank him for the food and let him know all the motel stuff is completely covered for tomorrow, too. You’ll work as late as you can and start as early as possible.
Dad says your friend has gone ‘above and beyond.’ You agree wholeheartedly.
‘Grant’ would more aptly be described as a machine.
All the furniture moved, all the lights taken down, all bordering taped, and now all blemishes in the walls smoothed, your impromptu contractor finally calls it quits when he’s forced to watch stuff dry.
You’ve kept the air conditioning going in one room.
Steve tentatively asks if he should walk you up to the house, but you counter with “it’s not any less dangerous for an average guy alone to return” and a cheeky smirk. Besides, it is very late. You let Captain OCD keep going; you tapped out a while ago.
He puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, thinking of a comeback that never manifests. After giving up, Steve takes his tiny bag into the bathroom and brushes his teeth.
You can faintly hear it over the murmur of the TV.
You aren’t really watching. It’s background noise to your general exhaustion.
With only a side lamp and the screen as light, Steve’s bare feet crumple over the discarded plastic sheet on the floor. He falls into one side of the bed, fully-clothed and (finally) tired.
Though productive, the day has been a distant one, working in different rooms for most of it and tiptoeing around real conversation. You want him to feel appreciated, not pressured, so you ask if he’d like the TV on for a while or would rather quiet.
Steve just grunts with his eyes closed.
Gently, you place a hand on his chest to steady you, leaning to kiss his bearded cheek.
“Thank you, Steve,” you say softly. “Good night.”
He hums when you say his name, and before you can lift your hand away, he captures it under his, holding you in place.
His eyes aren’t open. He can’t see you smile wider.
“Okay.” You tuck yourself into his chest as he raises his other arm out of the way. “Okay.”
Your ear sits in the dip beneath his collarbone, listening to his steady heart, his thumb sweeping back and forth over you knuckles.
He smushes you closer to his side. You toss your leg over his.
You forget to turn off the TV.
He’s sanding the spackled spots by the time you wake, so you rub across his back and dismiss yourself to get breakfast up at the house.
Steve makes no effort to go with, which is fine. You assumed as much.
Your dad calls Grant a ‘magician’ over the pop of oil in the skillet and insists you give your friend whatever he needs to keep working so fast. You are only half-joking when you admit the key is staying out of his way.
Bonus: the exchange reinforces your parents simply leaving the two of you alone down the hill, and you proudly tell Steve that when delivering him an enormous plate of scrambled eggs.
He jumps right back into planning-mode and orders you to roll the first coat of paint onto large areas. He’ll follow, completing the edges and corners.
It’s such a domestic thing to do. There is no one in danger, there are no bodies piling up if he makes a wrong move, and he can go faster or take his sweet time. Steve breaks when he wants or needs to. He sits outside and listens to the birds in the sunshine. No one is around to question him, not even you. You are only there to encourage.
You realize he was looking for a project. He’s used to—and likes—being busy, getting his hands dirty, producing results.
It’s a long, messy day where he becomes more serene in spirit the more intensely he works. You reward him with gentle sweeps of your hand down his arms, pats on his shoulders, and brushes at the small of his back.
Despite the almost constant movement, the day is over before you know it, earlier than yesterday, but it’s too hot to go on.
All the windows stay open to air out the fumes.
Though it won’t stop you from sweating, you both shower off as many splatters and flecks of paint as you can. You insist he goes first so there’s plenty of hot water.
He’s sitting on the bed, shirtless, checking his phone when you come out of the bathroom, but he immediately squirrel the device away in his small bag. Not much to carry around. Not much to leave behind. Steve can’t leave a trace of himself anywhere.
Hunched over and fatigued, he flashes a polite smile your way and blinks heavily.
He deserves the world.
You grab the small bottle of lotion from the countertop and playfully jump onto the bed behind him.
“How about a massage, yeah? You much be aching.”
Honestly, you don’t mean for it to sound sexual, but the phrase comes out downright dirty, making Steve awkwardly chuckle.
“You don’t have to,” he placates.
“Nonsense, I want to. It’ll make the air feel cooler.” That’s as good of an excuse as any. Who cares when the rippled expanse of his back flexes wildly in your touch?
His breathes are audible from the beginning.
You dig at his traps, his leg bouncing as he tries to relax. You use your thumbs, the flats of your hands, and your knuckles.
He shoves his fist in his mouth when he starts to moan, covering the move with a cough, but muffling the noise is abandoned in favor of clasping over his lap. He’s intent on hiding his hardness this time. There’s nothing you can say to truly lessen the sting of needing more. You can’t simply tell him he’s allowed to desire this; you have to ignore his misplaced shame.
But you can take pity on him.
“If you lie flat—“ you step off the bed to give him privacy “—I’ll have more leverage.”
You hear him crawl and adjust on the sheets. “Unlike the torque on a wrench,” you add, just to show you’ve been listening to him.
More lotion is needed for the surface area.
You turn up the TV, feining interest in the late night show so any noise he makes is not as obvious. What the speakers can’t cover, however, is Steve’s involuntary thrusts when you rub the heels of you palms up and down the sides of his spine. If you prop up on your knees, he has more range of motion and doesn’t obviously rock you while mindlessly humping the bed.
His sweats are slung low on his hips, two darts of muscle prominent above his ass.
They are irresistible, the perfect grooves to target and roll into, and he immediately mewls long and deep into the mattress, fingers curling and relaxing while his body seizes.
He hasn’t even finished coming, you think, before he taps at your leg and races to the bathroom.
You hope you didn’t push too far. You hope he’d tell you to stop if he needs more space, more time. Mostly, you hope he knows you’d give him every conceivable pleasure, just because he is him.
The water runs a long time, continuous splashing in the sink, and then nothing.
He didn’t bring much because he doesn’t have much. Your heart sinks, realizing you’ve made him soil one of only two pairs of pants he has here.
He cracks open the door, muttering, but you can’t make out the words.
You turn the volume back down. “What?”
“It pretty hot.” He clears his throat. “Would you mind if I sleep…without…?”
“Naked?” you squeak before composing yourself. “That’s fine. Whatever’s comfortable.”
You shuffle up the bed to click off the lamps. This man isn’t the type to strut around in the nude—yet, anyway—so in the faint and ever-shifting glow of the screen across the room very little can be seen.
‘Little,’ however, can’t describe anything that is visible about the man emerging from the bathroom.
You have to make a point not to stare, but no skit or commercial on the channel promises the same level of entertainment.
Steve slides himself beneath the sheet, sitting near the headboard.
You hold up the remote. “On or off?”
“Off,” he says, “please.”
You’ve certainly done enough for one day. You won’t push your luck, so you hit the power button, toss it on table, and snuggle into your half of the bed, facing away.
“If it’s too hot for any covers, that’s okay, too.”
A rustling interrupts the rhythmic whir of crickets in the night until you feel a warm hand lightly mold to your waist.
This should be encouraged. This should be rewarded.
“Hey, Stevie,” you whisper, waiting for his hum, “happy belated birthday.”
At most you expect a grip of notice, but instead, the big hand snakes across you and hauls you into his chest, his long legs bending to match the crook of yours, his nose and forehead tucked against your occipital.
“We did okay today,” Steve mumbles into your shirt.
You walk your hand over your stomach to find his, lacing the fingers together. “Yes. Yes, we did.”
Steve got to be useful today. He had a partner today. He will tomorrow and the day after, for as long as he stays, for as long as you’re alive. Nothing can change that.
Maybe he can’t talk about Fight Club, but he connects with you anyway.
A/N: Whoopsy. Didn't want to make y'all wait for a 6k+ chapter, so here's the first half! I am DEEP in the feels of this one. So, so many notes have been taken. The brainrot is real, and I fucking love it!!!!
I know mafia!ari loves picking up his sunshine like a sack of potatoes, but does biker!ari as well?
Will I be writing a size kink fic? Yes, yes I will but for now
You still remember the first time you discovered Ari was even stronger than he looks. The man is a built like a tank, you even call him bear, it was meant to be a joke but he really is almost as big as one.
Ari is 6'6" of pure muscle-the only fat he has on him is that round, firm ass of his. Long dirty blonde hair that he usually keeps pulled back into a low bun, tattoos that lick up the base of his throat and fan across his broad chest. You've only gotten a glimpse of the back piece and its intriguing. He's pure sin, every fantasy come true, wrapped up into one enormous package
Ari is very aware of his size and normally he doesn't care what people think of him however he likes the way your eyes widen and you sink your teeth in your bottom lip whenever he reveals just how strong he is.
You were on your tiptoes, straining to reach something on the top shelf in the office when suddenly the file is in front of you, his bearded chin on your shoulder, the scent of his cologne filling your nose.
It took you a few seconds to realize you were in the air. And in his strong arms. You don't know what you liked more but the combination of feeling weightless and being surrounded by his firm body sent you into a tailspin.
And for Ari, holding you in his arms, hearing the breathy gasp from your pretty lips as you both discovered Ari can hoist you around without any effort awakened a primal urge in him. One telling him to mark you, claim you, possess you until you know you're his.
Warnings; dark themes, unbalanced power dynamic, daddy kink, no smut in this part but as usual Minors Please DNI!!
Summary; You knew it was a bad idea showing up to the most notorious club in the city, but it’s your best friend’s birthday and you can’t say no, right? So, what happens when the owner himself, Ari Levinson, spots you at the bar, claiming you as his own from the moment he laid eyes on you.
It’s finally here! The first instalment of my very first series, apologies for no smut but i promise the next part will be very smutty to make up for it 👀 bare in mind this is just the introduction!!! please don’t be afraid to ask questions and remember to reblog and comment💗 i love to hear your guys feedback!
You climb out of the uber, reaching to pull the hem of your dress down as you and your friends stumble towards the club.
You had finally agreed to try out the biggest club in the city, "Cherry Bomb.” Since it was your best friend Sarah's birthday your group decided it was only fair she could choose which clubs you were going to tour for the night. You had been putting it off ever since the opening night a few months ago, the reputation not being something you had particularly wished to be involved with.
All you knew was bad things happened there, and from what you had heard the owners, Ari Levinson and Lloyd Hansen, two brothers in arms, were so cruel and unforgiving that even the richest men in the city dared not to step foot in the place, and those who did shortly regretted it. Their names were known around the streets, the most notorious club owners to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to them, more money under their belt than the government itself.
An incident a few weeks back had became the talk of the town, according to Sarah a well known patron had gotten a little handsy with one of the clubs dancers and when he was given a warning to back off, he refused. Claiming he spent enough money in the club grounds to do as he pleased, including groping innocent dancers without permission.
Long story short the bouncers ended up forcibly removing the man, cussing and struggling on his way out of course, you know, the usual druken male rage and feeling of entitlement. Seemed like a pretty convenient coincidense that the exact same night the man was found beaten to a bloody pulp in a back alley, his face practically unrecognisible.
It wasn't long before the 'rumour' was quickly snuffed out. They were good at that, making things.. people, dissapear. Almost as if it never happened... as if they never exhisted.
Now that you were standing infront of it, you couldn't deny, it was beautiful. Even from the outside, the bright neon sign glowing in the moonlight, multiple bouncers blocking the large glass stained doors, making sure to check each persons id before unhooking the stanchion, allowing said persons entry. The queue seeming endless.
Lucky for you, your friends had been gifted VIP tickets, you didn't even bother to ask who they got those from, or how. You didn't want to know. You flashed your id at the pretty bouncer, his buzzed hair, large muscles and stern face making it quite obvious as to why he had the job he did.
You bounced your foot as he scanned over your card before opening the barrier and letting you inside. Sarah was quick to grip each of your hands, practically dragging you inside once you began to hesitate, not wanting you to change your mind so soon.
"Come on, babe, let's get those sweet legs moving!" Sarah hollers from ahead, her hand intertwined with your own as the rest of the girls hurried towards a booth.
"I-I don't know if this is a good idea, Sare.." you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers as she tugged you towards your friends and giving you a slight nudge into the cushioned seats, the red velvet material instantly soothing your hot thighs as you sat.
She reached down, holding your cheeks in both hands and facing you towards herself, sliding into the booth next to you "Listen, i know you're worried and if it makes you feel better i promise we can leave and go somewhere else, but just give it a try, please...for me?" she pleaded, giving you her famous puppy dog eyes.
"You know i can't resist that face." you whined as she cheered.
As you slowly got more drunk you began to forget why you didn't want to visit. The atmosphere was astronomical, the whole club being fit for royalty. The girls hooted and hollered as you trotted off towards the bar on your way to buy in a round of drinks. You waited at the bar with your card in hand but as you went to hand it over to the bartender he paused you.
“It’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, a smile on his face. He was handsome in all fairness, standing at around 6'2, his bright blonde locks and pretty blue eyes causing you to pause for a moment before giving him a puzzled look, tilting your head sideways.
“Is it a nightly 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 another couples order, shooting you a sly smile over his shoulder. Leaving you even more confused than before.
You slowly reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around in shock, ready to fight off any unwanted men. You pause yet again, 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 strobe lights, looking down at you with a slight smirk. His dark beard covered most of his face and his long curtains framed his godly sculpted face. Even with his suit on his arms bulged through the material, his thick biceps almost bigger than your head.
You shortly snapped out of your daze as his leather gloved hand squeezed your arm. “C-Can i help you, sir?” you stammered, worried incase you had been caught gauking.
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 they were 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, swallowing harshly as the nerves quickly built in your stomach.
He shakes his head gently with a smirk "So you know me, huh?"
Your eyes widen at the realisation of who the mystery man is, your arms instantly beginning to shake, your card still in hand. You were never good at dealing with situations such as this one, always being labled as the 'shy girl' of your group. Sarah being the complete opposite. Usually men in this situation would back off, sensing your uncomfortable trembles and leaving you alone, but not Ari. If anything the smirk on his face grew wider at the sense of your fear.
"Steve, why don't you head over to booth two, give the girls their shots." Ari calls out towards the handsome bartender from earlier.
The man, Steve, is at your side in an instant "No prob man, have fun you two." he winks, collecting the glasses and sauntering off with a wink.
Ari shakes his head with a laugh, “Why don’t you come with me.” he leans down to whisper in your ear. The vibration of his vocals in your ears sending shivers down your spine before he struts forwards, holding out his thick palm for you to grab on to, and almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation. Sliding your smaller palm into his own as he led you through the club.
Your nerves never allowed you to talk much, or make your own decisions, that being the reason you followed the stranger without any question asked, which is exactly why Sare was usually always there to do it for you. But, your drunken confidence had allowed you to go to the bar alone, which you were beginning to really regret. Your confidence being blown out of the park as the attractive beast watched you from infront with a careful eye.
Shortly you arried at the unknown destination, trailing nervously behind Ari as he unlocked a large door, which was infact bolted shut. He pushed open the door, looking down at you, edging you to enter, and so you did. Your eyes lit up as they searched the vast room, expensive furnature lining the room, bottles of champagne worth more than your house filling the cupboards above his desk.
Ari pushed the door closed, moving to sit on a cushioned purple chair, his thick thighs spread wide as he removed his gloves, pouring himself, and you, a glass of his finest drink. His cold eyes beckoned you forwards, your legs shaking as you stepped towards him, standing inbetween his spread legs.
He patted his thigh with one hand "Sit." he called out, his voice sweet yet stern.
You looked at him shocked, your lips parting slightly, were you really going to sit on his lap? A man you just met? Who you didn't even know? "I-I don't think i should Mr Levinson." you whispered.
His eyes grew shades darker at your refusal, not even giving you time to debate your decisions he reached out, gripping your waist in his thick palm and pulling you down, sitting you sideways on his lap as you gasp in shock. His other hand pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as you squirmed under the pressure.
"Pretty girl, next time i ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. You understand?" he asked in a low growl.
You swallowed your nerves and nodded gently under his deep gaze, your body trembling.
"Ah ah, words baby."
"Yes, M-Mr Levinson, I-I understand."
Ari groaned underneath his breath, not understanding how lucky he had gotten that a pretty little thing like you would just waltse right in at the perfect moment, almost as if you were made for him. Like a lamb in a lions den. "As much as i love the way you say my name, call me Ari, sweet girl."
Again, you followed his command. "Yes, Ari."
"Good girl." he rumbled, pulling your bottom lip gently inbetween his index and thumb, loving the way you felt on his lap. Your innocence and submissive nature automatically triggering his dominance, his cock growing hard in his slacks as your plump ass squirmed on his knee.
You keened at his praise, a fluttery feeling appearing in your lower half. Of course Ari noticed this, the way your pussy pulsated on his thigh told him all he needed to know.
"You ever been with a man before, sweetheart?" Ari asks while he strokes your hair, not even having to shout due to the soundproof room blocking out the clubs music.
"Um, n-no i haven't, my Grandma wouldn't really approve of that sort of stuff, she said i should wait till m-marriage." you whisper shyly.
Ari blows out a puff of air at your innocence, desperately trying to control himself. All he wants is to ruin you, in every way you can imagine, and more. He smirks, leaning into your shoulder, pressing his nose against your sensitive neck and taking a deep inhale. Groaning softly, your sweet scent driving his instincts wild.
"Your Grandma seems like a very smart lady, little girl. You live with just her, huh?"
"Yeah, i never really knew my m-mom and dad, and my grandpa died shorly after i was born s-so it's pretty much always just been me and her. She does her best to take care of me, taught me everything i know." you speak with a bright smile, Ari notices how your stutter stopped when talking about her, he thought it was sweet, how much you must care about her.
However, the dark side of his mind was quick to take a seat, the realisation that you never had a father figure making his cock impossibly harder. Knowing he could be that for you, and knowing you needed a strong man like him in your life to make all those decisions for you.
"I think i changed my mind, baby. Why don't you call me daddy from now on, mkay?" he spoke softly, yet the edge in his tone still clear.
"D-Daddy?" you muttered, confused as to why he would want you to call him that.
He moaned hearing your sweet voice call him by his new found title. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, choosing not to elaborate on his previous statement. "Good girl. I'm gonna' take care of you from now on, yeah? Anything you need, you come to me. Pass me your phone, sweet girl."
"Oh, i-i don't have a phone.. daddy."
Ari's eyebrows knit together softly "You don't have a phone? Why not?"
You shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "We uhm, w-we can't really afford that sort of stuff."
"Well that just won't do." he speaks in a teasing tone, tickling your waist making you giggle softly.
Suddenly a loud bang causes you to shoot upright, you quickly dash off Ari's lap, moving to stand away from him, his office door slamming shut as a tall moustached man enters. Your eyes widen in fright, knowing how violent the man standing infront of you truly was. You knew who he was too, Sare had told you plenty of stories about the cruel Lloyd Hansen. You often wondered if he even had a soul.
"Man it's fuckin' packed down there, what the fuck are you doing up here." the mystery man groans, not even noticing you until he turns. He lifts his sunglasses, staring you donw, his eyes scanning over your figure, pausing and licking his lips at the soft flesh beneath the cut of your dress, your pretty pink dress having ridden up your thighs.
"Lloyd." Ari bellows, sighing in annoyance at his disruption.
A smirk similar to Ari's appears on the man, Lloyd's, face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he speaks in a sultry voice. He begins his descent in your direction and the second gets a little too close, Ari shoots up out of his seat, moving to stand infront of you. A low rumble vibrating through his chest.
Lloyd lets out a chuckle, lifting his hands in a surrender position, taking a few steps back. "I mean no harm, just wanna' ask the pretty girl for her name, s'all."
You begin to quiver yet again, Lloyd's presence scaring you back into your shell. His dangerous aura sending goosebumps across your trembling figure. "I-I think i sh-should go." you whisper, tugging at the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.
"Don't move, sweets. Lloyd. Get the fuck out of here man." Ari bellows.
“I think you’ll find this club is mine just as much as it is yours, big bro. C’mon. Introduce me to the beauty.” he chucked yet again, probably at Ari’s fury. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears at this point. He didn’t even want Lloyd looking at you, nevermind talking to you.
“I mean it Lloyd fuck off-“
Before he can stop you, you make a quick dash for the door and at the sound of Ari's resistance your legs carry you quicker than you could've ever imagined. Not looking back once as you pull the door open, swiftly shutting the door behind you.
You take a deep, your chest heaving at the stress of the situation, wiping your sweaty hands on your dress and making your descent down the club stairs, shaking your head in confusion and fear, eager to find your friends, craving their comfort and hearing a hushed "You fuckin' asshole." in the distance.
