Summary: Your morning routine is interrupted by the appearance of an unknown man and his crew.
Characters: Frank Adler, Curtis Everett
Pairings: Frank Adler x reader
W/C: 2,600
Warnings: violent acts (against reader and Curtis), knives, guns, threats of violence, brief captivity, gambling addition, mentions of alcohol abuse, dark!Curtis Everett, darkish!Frank Adler, Mob AU, Minors DNI
A/N: This one I am so excited for. special thanks to @krirebr for being an absolute champ and agreeing to read this before I posted. I really appreciate all your help in this! ❤️. As always likes, reblogs and asks are always encouraged!
It was a chilly morning in the trailer, you had a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to keep the cold out. You sighed as you opened the cupboards to see them bare. Frank had been out again last night, and probably spent the grocery money on booze. It was becoming a problem.
You opened the shades to try and coax some heat into the trailer from the morning sun, although you weren't sure how much of a difference it would make. A bump alerted you to Mary waking up. You scrambled to try and find something to give her for breakfast, besides the cereal that was probably a little stale. You gave a little fist pump when you found something frozen fruit in the back of the freezer and tossed it in the blender.
Mary followed the buzzing to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. "Where's Frank?" The poor kid loved her uncle, and he did everything he could for her, but he had been awful with money lately. You knew you needed to have a conversation with him, but were dreading the argument that would follow.
"I think he's still in bed," You gestured to the hallway, "Why don't you go brush teeth and get dressed, and I'll go wake him up so he can take you to school?"
"With all that racket, he's gonna be pissed." You heard Mary's mumble, which you were sure she meant for you to. Pursing your lips, you knew better than to react. Frank had been clear, you were not her parent.
You followed Mary's path and made a bee-line to yours and Frank's shared room. He was passed out still, the stale smell of beer and cigarette smoke hung in the air, despite him doing neither in the trailer last night. You held your breath as you nudged him awake, "Frank? Honey, you gotta get up, it's almost time to take Mary to school."
He let out a groan and buried his head under the pillow, "Ugh, already? I feel like I just fell asleep." His voice held the rasp of sleep, but also the dregs of a hangover. You massaged his shoulders gently before placing a kiss on his spine.
"I've got breakfast almost ready, want me to put some coffee on?" You murmured against his skin. He grunted a yes, and you stood to leave. "And take a shower before she smells you, its disgusting in here."
You huffed and pulled your makeshift shawl tighter around you as you made your way back to the kitchen. Mary was already sitting at the table, eating her cereal. You poured the blended fruit into a bowl and passed her a new spoon just in case.
"What is this?" Mary's nose wrinkled, you couldn't really blame her.
"We only had frozen fruit left, I'm going to the store later. Make sure you put what you want on the list before you leave, okay?" The coffee maker groaned away on the counter, and Frank finally made his appearance.
Mary's nose wrinkled again as Frank passed her, "You smell like crap." He glared at her, but ignored her in favour of coffee.
"Come on, Mary we're gonna be late." He filled a thermos with his coffee, and the two of them gathered their things to leave. Mary raced to his truck, yelling something about starting a new science experiment.
Frank wrapped his arms around you from behind. "I've got a few jobs lined up for today, I'll probably be home late." He placed a delicate kiss on the top of your head, and squeezed you once more.
You sighed as you settled into his embrace, soaking up his warmth. "I'm off today, so I'll grab some groceries and pick up Mary."
He hummed behind you, swaying you together. The quiet moment was only broken by the blaring of the horn from the truck and Mary yelling about being late. You chuckled and turned to Frank, "Don't keep her waiting, she'll kick your ass later."
Frank sighed and slipped some cash into your hand, your eyes growing wide. Before you could ask where he got the money, he gave you a long, slow kiss, that had your knees going weak. He squeezed you once more, and was out the door before you could ask anymore questions.
You stared around the now quiet and empty kitchen for a moment, deciding you could clean up the dishes later. You went to your room and stripped the bed, god booze must have been seeping from his pores. You were tempted to grab tongs to just put everything in the laundry bag. Gathering up the rest of the laundry from the bedroom, you made your way to Mary's room to gather hers, but a sound outside stopped you in your tracks.
There was a squeak of brakes that had you pausing. Frank's truck was loud, and he said he had jobs lined up. There was no way he was back already. As you made your way to the kitchen to investigate there was several loud bangs on the front door that had you jumping.
You took a moment to collect yourself before opening the door. When you did, any words of greeting left your mind immediately. Stood before you was a hard looking man. He had a shaved head and was thickly built. His cold blue eyes met yours, before peering over your shoulder subtly.
"This Frank Adler's place?" His voice was rough, like he didn't speak much. But his question had your stomach dropping. What had Frank done?
"Umm, sorry, but who are you?" You tried your best at firm, but it came out far weaker than you had intended, and you kicked yourself for that. Glancing past the man at your front door you saw a black SUV, with several other men standing around it.
"Everett." He said simply, as if that would answer all of your questions.
"Right," You said slowly, "And why are you looking for Frank?"
It seems your words were all the confirmation he needed, and before you could do anything he was pushing you back into the trailer, a hand over your mouth catching the scream before it could escape your throat. You struggled against him as he used his other arm to guide you back, his foot kicking the door closed.
"Hey!" His voice was low, almost more a growl, "I'm gonna move my hand now." His eyes, which has been so cold and lifeless before, burned with an intensity that had you standing stock still. "And I'm gonna ask you some questions, you're gonna answer, and then I'm gonna leave. Understood?"
You blinked at him slowly, still clearly in shock. He loosened his grip minutely, and you nodded slowly. "Good." His slowly withdrew his hand from your mouth, not travelling far though to grip at the crook of your jaw.
"Is Frank home?" You shook your head.
"Do you know where he is?" You shook your head again, and his grip tightened on your jaw, causing you to whine.
"No. He takes odd jobs, said he had a bunch today." Tears were welling in your eyes. You fought to keep them back, your last sign of defiance to the man who was holding your life in his hands. Just over Everett's shoulder you saw the landline, wishing you were closer.
Everett grunted, his head swivelled to where your gaze was locked. "You know what, that's a great idea. Why don't we give the man a call." You shook your head and batted at his arms as he dragged you across the room to the phone. Dread pooling in your stomach, what if he killed Frank?
You must have said the words aloud because Everett chuckled behind you now. His arms wrapped around you in a sick mirror of the way Frank had held you just before he left. His breath tickled your neck as he whispered his instructions. "Give him a call, tell him to come home. I won't kill him, he won't be able to get me my money then."
Your hands shook as you reached for the phone, nearly dropping it. Everett tsk'd behind you, his grip on your waist tightened. "Shhhh, just calm down and dial the number. Tell him there's an emergency and he needs to come home. Now." He smoothed your hair, in what would be a calming gesture, but just felt more threatening.
You dialled the number quickly, the tension coming off the man behind you telling you more than his softly spoken words. After a couple rings, Franks annoyed voice came across the line. "Babe, what's up? I told you I have couple jobs lined up. Drop off with Mary took longer than normal, so I'm already running late."
Even though his tone was cross, comfort flooded through you at his voice. "I.." you gulped trying to get the words out. You felt the man behind you squeeze again in warning. "You need to come home." You could hear the tears in your voice. The panic in your breathing. You were praying Frank heard it too.
"Babe? What happened?" You heard Frank's truck roar as he pressed the accelerator.
"Please, just come home." You gave up and let yourself sob into the line.
"I'm coming, okay? Don't hang up." You could hear the panic set into Frank's voice now. "I'm not far, ten minutes."
Before you could sob out a response, Everett yanked the phone away from your ear. A shrill scream of "FRANK" left your lips before his hand was back over your mouth, dulling the sound. Something about this attack, and Frank's imminent approach had you fighting against your attacker. You bit down hard on the hand covering your mouth. Your hands scratching and hitting every inch you could reach. He grunted before finally throwing you over his shoulder, and marching towards the bedroom.
He tossed you on the bed, grabbing a pair of your panties from the laundry bag and shoving them in your mouth. He held his hand over top before securing your wrists with one Frank's belts. It was then you saw the gun on his hip, and the flash of a blade in his hand. Your movements instantly stopped, tear tracks lining your face. Everett chuckled before clapping your cheek with the hand you had bitten, his blood mixing with your tears.
"Be quiet." The words were whispered hoarsely, his nose nearly touching yours as he moved into your personal space. His minty breath ghosting over your face. "We're gonna sit here and wait for the man of the house to get home."
You shivered at the thought of this man being close to you, maintaining some kind of intimacy with you. He patted your cheek one last time and climbed on the bed behind you, scooting you back until he rested on the headboard. His one arm draped across yous stomach, while the other pulled the gun from his hip. You couldn't stop the whimper that bubbled in your throat.
"Don't worry, we're just gonna scare him a little." His lips grazed your cheek, the sharp stubble of his beard painful to your tear swollen cheek.
The two of you sat in silence waiting for Frank. Everett making sure to keep the gun in your sight line at all times. As each moment dragged on you felt your anxiety build until you felt like you were ready to burst. Just as you felt a new wave of tears building, you heard the road of Frank's truck and it skid to a stop outside the trailer.
You heard him yelling your name as the front door slammed open. You sucked in a breath and heard the man behind you shush. Despite his warning a sob ripped through you, which had Frank running to the room. Everett raised the gun to point directly at Frank's chest, and you sobbed harder. A warning squeeze around your middle had you quieting down.
Frank's hands immediately shot up, "Everett. What- she's got nothing to do with this." Frank was looking past you to the man behind you. You felt him shrug casually, his thumb stroking the exposed skin between your shirt and your sweatpants. "I told you, I'll have the money soon. With interest."
You blanched at Frank's words. The cash he had slipped you this morning, it was still in your pants pocket.
Everett hummed, "That's why you took another loan last night?" Your vision swam with anger now. How could he have not told you. You could have gotten a second job, picked up more shifts, anything would have been better than this. "You're lucky, it was one of the new kids working. But I think you knew that."
He abruptly swung the gun under your chin, and your sob echoed around the trailer. "Here's what's gonna happen." His face was pressed close to yours again and you squeezed your eyes shut, "I'll be back tomorrow, and you're gonna pay me $500."
Frank stuttered out excuses across the room. Everett stood from behind you, and you watched as he crossed the room to Frank. "$500." He tapped the barrel of the gun against Franks chin and glanced back at you.
Everett stalked toward the front door, leaving you and Frank staring at each other from across the room. Once the door slammed close, he was dashing to you. He undid the belt around your wrists, and gingerly pulled the underwear from your mouth. You sobbed as everything that had happened hit you. He pulled you into his lap and you buried your face in his neck.
Frank whispered to you, his tone soft and soothing. It felt like hours before you could calm yourself down enough to let him go. He left the room for only a few moments and returned with a washcloth and a glass of water. He cleaned the tears and blood from your swollen cheeks.
You gripped the front of his shirt, your eyes pleading. "Frank, you need to tell me the truth." He hung his head unable to meet your eyes. "How much?"
You whispered the words, but with the silence in the room, you knew he heard you. "Five grand."
You sucked in a breath. A few extra shifts would never cover that. "Okay." You stood and grabbed a towel from the laundry bag. "Mary can't know about this. I'll take her out tomorrow, and you call me once he's gone."
You turned to Frank, his soulful eyes pleading with you. "I don't want to be around that man ever again."
"I'm so sorry babe." He held a hand out to you as he stood and you fell into his arms. Your own falling to his waist.
"You tell me when it's bad Frank. Or this doesn't work." You whispered the words as you laid your head on his shoulder. "We'll find a way to get the money, and then we'll leave."
Frank nodded above you, his arms wound tightly around you. You pulled out the bills he had handed you this morning, and peeled out just enough for groceries and handed him the rest back. "You go, work on your jobs. I'm gonna go hang out with Roberta until you get home."
He pulled you back, his hands on your shoulders, crouching slightly to get on your level. "Are you sure?"
You could see the sincerity in his eyes. The worry, the shame, the guilt, they were all there. You cupped his cheek and stroked his beard with your thumb. "We need the money."
Plot Summary : When your boyfriend turns out to be cheating piece of shit, two alphas come to your rescue. One tells you he won't keep you and the other wants nothing to do with you, but that doesn't stop the pull you feel towards them. The closer you get, the more you discover about them, and about yourself.
Pairing : Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader / Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour and mentions of cheating. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, love triangle(ish), and explicit smut. There is an unspecified age gap between Alphas and reader. All characters are a little darker than usual. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 6.6k
A/N : Yep, everyone is definitely an asshole in this one 😂
Chapter Two
The dull, thrumming ache between your thighs was the first thing you noticed when you finally woke up.
You hadn't slept the whole night through — after the first round of sex, you'd dozed for an hour or so, before waking to find him still naked next to you. One thing quickly led to another, and you'd ended up on top of him, riding him hard. He hadn't even pulled out when you collapsed on his chest and drifted off again.
The third time, he'd settled behind you, slipping inside you with ease. He muttered in your ear, telling you how perfect you felt and how good you were being. He took his time, fucking you with a slow purpose, bringing you an entirely new kind of pleasure.
(Keep us, keep us, keep us, your hindbrain had chanted — and, honestly, you couldn't be sure that the words didn't leave your lips too.)
So, when you woke, you felt thoroughly fucked in a way you'd never experienced before. But, more than that, you actually felt sated. The part of you that craved and needed physical intimacy was silent. You didn't roll over to reach for him, desperate for another round, and you didn't slip your hand between your legs as you'd done so many mornings as Rick snored beside you.
You were... content.
Snuggling down beneath the thin sheet, you breathed in his scent and the scent of what you'd spent the night doing. It was enough to have you finally rolling onto your side, hand searching the bed for him.
Only, he wasn't there.
You were alone.
Sitting up, you glanced around the room. His bedroom. The door to the en-suite was open and he was nowhere to be seen. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 13:27 and you felt a wave of embarrassment. He'd probably been gone for hours and you hadn't even noticed.
Your body ached as you sat, clutching the sheet to your naked form, looking around for your clothes, but your dress was nowhere to be found. All you could find were the tattered remains of your panties, set aside like a trophy atop a set of drawers.
You waited a few more minutes, hoping that Steve would return, but the house seemed silent around you. You couldn't just stay in bed waiting for him all day. Besides that, you really needed to pee.
Pulling the sheet with you, you slipped into the en-suite, taking a moment to glance around first at the large claw-foot bathtub, then the large shower cubicle. The room itself was bigger than your bedroom...
Or, well, not your bedroom anymore, you supposed since you didn't have a home to go to.
You did what you needed to do and lingered for a few minutes, cleaning yourself up while casually looking over Steve's things, indulging yourself and sniffing a few of his toiletries. It was no wonder he smelled so good. During the course of your snooping, you found his laundry hamper and decided to grab the shirt on the top of the pile.
Enveloped in his scent, you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and wait for him to return, hoping that he'd fuck you again. (And again, and again.) But you couldn't. For all you knew, he was waiting for you somewhere else in the house, desperate to get rid of you now that he'd had his fill.
It was a sobering thought and exactly what you needed.
With your panties torn and ruined, you had no choice but to slip out of his room in nothing but his shirt. Thankfully it came down to your knees but as you walked through the long corridor you still felt practically naked.
You hadn't noticed just how big the house was last night but now, in the cold light of day, you realised that house probably wasn't the right word. Mansion was more like it.
You turned a corner that led onto a landing with a double staircase, one to your left the other, closer to your right. Glancing over the banister, you looked down at the large entrance hall and spotted someone. She had her back to you, so you cleared your throat as you made your way down stairs, alerting her to your presence.
A maid, you realised. The house was so big they had a maid.
She looked at you like it was perfectly normal to have a half-naked omega roaming the halls of the house. Maybe it was, maybe you were just the most recent in a long line. Fuck, could this day get any worse?
"Sorry, I'm looking for —"
"Mr Barnes is the only one here right now and he's in the kitchen," she said with a friendly enough smile but the tone of someone who had better things to be doing. When she noticed your confusion, she waved her hand. "Down there, last door on the right."
You muttered your thanks and started towards the kitchen, hoping that Mr Barnes was Steve and that he'd at least offer you some breakfast before kicking you out.
Your heart sank at the sight of Bucky, leaning over the counter, waiting for the coffee machine.
You stepped back, wanting to retreat before he noticed you, but —
"Morning, doll. Want a coffee?"
The tone of his voice should have bothered you almost as much as the smug smile on his lips, but something else caught your attention, something you hadn't noticed the night before.
His arm.
Or... not his arm. It was a metallic prosthetic.
What had happened to him?
Fuck, was it offensive to want to know? Were you staring? Why were you staring? Oh god, did he know you were staring?
Swallowing around the lump that had firmly lodged itself in your throat, you managed to nod. "Uh, yeah, coffee would be great."
If he noticed or cared that you had been staring at his arm, he didn't let it show. He just turned his attention back to the coffee maker. "You take it with cream or sugar?"
You remained in the doorway, warily eyeing his back — and not at all taking in the way his tight tee-shirt showed off his toned body.
(Imagine digging our nails into those shoulders, that voice in your head crooned, holding on tight as he fucks us.)
You couldn't tell if it was the fact he was being nice to you or the very real idea that spending a night with an alpha had rewired you on some baser level, but it took everything you had to keep your distance from him.
"Yes," you said, then, "both. Three spoons of sugar, please."
He gave a soft laugh that sent a strange thrill through you.
(Yes, make him happy. Make him want us.)
"That's a lot of sugar for someone who's already so sweet." A cold shiver crawled down your spine, both from his words and the way he looked at you when he turned, mug in hand. There was a hunger in his eyes that was all alpha. "Here you go, doll."
He didn't hand you the mug, he just placed it down on the counter beside him, waiting for you to go to him.
It felt like a trap.
You lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, torn between refusing the coffee and getting out of there, and showing him that, whatever this was, he wasn't going to get to you. Stubborn pride had you going for the second option, and you instantly regretted it.
His nose twitched as you took that first step, then the corner of his lips tugged upwards. Your quick attempt at cleaning yourself up clearly hadn't been enough to beat his sensitive alpha senses.
"So, was it everything you hoped it'd be?" He asked before you could even reach for the mug. His gaze slid down your body, the look so brazen that it almost felt like a physical caress trailing down to your bare legs and back up again. "I could hear you, you know. With the way you were moaning, anyone would think you'd never been fucked by an alpha before."
Your cheeks heated and your thighs pressed together of their own volition. It didn't take long for him to put two and two together, his grin growing wider.
"Shit, no wonder you were so eager." He stood away from the counter and took the smallest of steps to put himself between you and the door. "No wonder you were so willing to put out for an alpha who won't keep you."
You turned and shifted, trying to create some space between you, only to find yourself backed into a corner. Pressing yourself back, you tried to keep your head high, defiant, but you made the mistake of taking a steadying breath, breathing in his scent. Your head swam as he closed the distance, stopping in front of you and caging you in with hands on either side of you.
If you screamed, would someone come to help you?
(Why would we scream?)
"I can't blame him," Bucky muttered, bowing his head and pressing his face into the crook of your neck, just as he had last night. He inhaled and your legs trembled. "You smell fucking delicious."
"You're a pig," you said, but your words lacked any sharpness.
He was disgusting. The whole situation was disgusting but — fuck, you could already feel that familiar, needy heat blooming inside you.
"I think you like it. I think you get off on me treating you like shit," he continued, pressing closer, letting the tip of his nose graze the length of your gland.
It was so brazen and unexpected that you froze, letting him press as close as he wanted.
"N-no. You're wrong," you said in a breathless whisper. "I think you're disgusting."
"Liar," he said, taking another deep inhale. "You're dripping under that shirt. I can smell it. Did he not satisfy you last night? Did the good guy routine not do it for you? Were you faking all of those screams?"
Stubble scratched against your sensitive skin as he pressed a wet kiss to your gland. You let slip a keening whine, unable to control yourself. Another deep breath filled your lungs with his scent, distracting you as he lifted you and placed you on the counter.
Bucky stepped between your legs and you felt the cold press of metal trailing up your thigh — his fingers. He was slipping his fingers between your legs.
"He won't keep you," he muttered again, his tongue slipping out to lave your gland, causing your whole body to jolt, trying to push closer to him. "But, before he lets you go, I'm sure we'll have plenty of fun with you."
(Yes, yes, yes — oh fuck, yes, your hindbrain cried, fighting to overwhelm your common sense.)
At some point you'd raised your hands to push him away, but now they just sat on his strong chest, gripping his shirt, unable to let go. You were at the mercy of your biology as his fingers reached the apex of your thighs and a single metal digit ran through your embarrassingly slick folds.
"Did he tell you that we share sometimes?" He muttered against your neck with another wet kiss while his finger teased your clit. "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Two alpha's fucking your tight little —"
He pulled back, leaving you dazed and barely breathing, an uncontrollable want thrumming through every fibre of your being. You let him go, though your hindbrain mourned the loss of his touch. It wasn't until he'd returned to his spot by the coffee maker that you had the sense to close your legs.
Just in time for Steve to appear.
Steve looked at you, then at Bucky.
"What did you do?" He asked, not sounding angry, just put out.
"Nothing," Bucky grunted. Steve's gaze hardened and fraction and Bucky headed to the door. "If you don't want to share her, you should've said."
Steve stepped aside, letting Bucky leave. His gaze followed after the other alpha before slowly turning back to you, taking in the sight of you in his shirt, perched on the edge of the counter.
"Sorry about him."
"What's his problem, anyway?" You asked, slipping off the counter as casually as you could manage.
Steve let out a laugh. "That's a long story, sweetheart."
Ignoring the way your legs were trembling, you grabbed the coffee Bucky had made for you and took a slow drink, watching as Steve moved closer.
This time you didn't shrink back — when Steve moved towards you, it didn't feel like a predator hunting its prey — you watched him over your mug, and let him cage you against the counter just as Bucky had.
The thrum you felt inside of you was different with Steve. You still felt an uncontrollable want but it wasn't enough to render you senseless.
You kept drinking until he plucked the mug from your hand and put it back on the counter. His arms slipped around you and, before you could even think to ask what he was doing, he kissed you.
His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips and you eagerly parted for him, letting him kiss you with a deep hunger that quickly reignited the sparks that Bucky had lit inside you. There was something primal and claiming to it, like he was trying to wipe away whatever might have just happened between you and Bucky, like he knew but he didn't care.
And you let him. You gave yourself to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him close.
It didn't last and, despite your hindbrain wanting nothing more than to be bent over the kitchen counter and fucked within an inch of your life, Steve pulled back. But he didn't go far. His hand took yours and he all but pulled you from the kitchen.
You eagerly followed after, assuming that he was taking you back to bed, but instead of turning right at the top of the stairs, he turned left, leading you in the opposite direction from his bedroom.
You wanted to ask where he was taking you and what was going on. More importantly, you wanted to ask if he knew what Bucky had just done — you wanted to understand their dynamic and what Bucky had meant about sharing. Was that what you were there for, or would Steve see it as a betrayal if anything happened between you and Bucky?
Packs were always complicated. It was why you'd never considered joining one. In some packs omegas could belong to their alphas or to the whole pack. You weren't sure how Bucky and Steve worked — hell, you weren't even sure how many people were in their pack.
But Steve must have known. Not only did he seem to know Bucky well, he must have been able to smell him on you...
So, clearly that meant that he wasn't angry about it.
Your thoughts stopped as you were pulled into a bedroom. It was smaller than Steve's room, empty, with nothing more than a bed, a wardrobe, and a set of drawers. There was a door leading out onto a balcony and, beyond that, in the distance you could see the city.
He let go of your hand and turned to face you.
"What do you think?" He asked.
You gave him a confused look. "Of what?"
"The room — your room."
"My..."
Words failed you. There were too many things you wanted to ask, so many things you wanted to say. He was just giving you a place to stay? Why couldn't you stay in his room with him? From the way he'd kissed you in the kitchen he clearly still wanted you...
"You need a place to stay and we've got plenty of space," he explained. “That is... if you want it...”
(Stay... stay for the alpha. He's giving us a gift. Thank him. Thank him.)
The little voice was right in the worst way. You needed a place to stay and he was giving you that. You should be grateful and not ask too many questions. No one had ever just done something nice for you before. There was always a catch, always something that they wanted before they gave you anything. But Steve was just offering you a place.
You surged forward, catching him off guard. You kissed him the way he'd kissed you in the kitchen, with an eager intensity, giving yourself over to him. But it didn't feel like enough. All of your senses felt like they were cranked up to eleven and you needed to do something.
Dropping to your knees, you started to fumble with his belt, then his pants.
"You don't have to —" he stopped short the second you reached into his pants to grip his cock.
His arousal spiked as you started to stroke him, his scent helping you forget all about Bucky. You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to get lost in it, to let your hindbrain take the wheel and take whatever she wanted. For the first minute, you were content to stroke him, watching as he got hard in your grip, letting you see just how big he was.
Then you leaned in, chasing your hand with your tongue as it striped up and down the considerable length of him. It wasn't long before pre-cum started to leak from his tip and you made a show of greedily licking it up. His breath caught and your whole body heated. You were pleasing him, making him gasp. You were in control.
You gave a slow and sensual lick, swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock before sliding your lips over him and slowly starting to take him into your mouth. Your movements were deliberate and slow to begin with, wanting to show him not just that you appreciated his offer but that you were worthy of it, worthy of a place in his life. Maybe he wouldn't claim you, but did that really matter if he was willing to keep you safe?
Moaning, you started to bob your head, following the movement with your hand, making sure no inch of him went untouched. Even though this was all for him, you quickly felt your own arousal starting to build. One glance up at him through your lashes was almost enough to undo you.
When his fingers slipped into your hair, you moaned around him, some part of you eager to give up the control you'd literally just been celebrating.
His hips jerked forward, causing the crown of his cock to nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes watered and you softly gagged, but you didn't stop, sucking in your cheeks as your free hand gripped his hip. The sound of your wet lips on his skin coupled with his heavy breathing had you fighting the urge to slip your hands between your thighs — or worse, grinding yourself against his boot.
You relaxed your throat and managed to take a little bit more of him. His fingers twitched in your hair and his gaze darkened with want, obviously enjoying the sensation of your throat around him. You gulped and tried to swallow, tried to take more and more, feeling needy and greedy, desperate for everything you could get. A tear rolled down your cheek from your watering eyes, but you paid it no mind. You were enjoying yourself too much to stop.
Muffled moans started to spill more freely from you, each one vibrating around his cock and causing his hips to jerk. You trailed your tongue up and down him, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock, giving him everything you could to try and make him happy before giving him what he really wanted.
What every alpha wanted.
Control.
You found his hand on the back of your head and gave it a squeeze, silently giving him permission to take over.
A low sound came from the back of his throat, a purely alpha sound that made you tremble. His grip tightened on your hair, almost painfully so, and he started to move his hips.
"Such a good little omega," he grunted.
(A good omega for our alpha, your hindbrain whined.)
You had to grip his waist to keep yourself steady as he set a faster pace, chasing his pleasure. His groans were the final straw — you couldn't help yourself, you had to slip your hand between your thighs and sate the urgent need inside you. There was something about him being in charge that made you lose all control and act every bit the omega.
"Are you —" he didn't even have to finish the question.
The sight of you on your knees in front of him, his cock in your mouth and your hand between your thighs had him practically growling. And that just made you want more.
(Yes, yes, yes... make the alpha happy, make the alpha keep us. We want to stay with the alpha. We want this. Over and over and over.)
Your fingers teased your clit with a rough and desperate rhythm, trying to keep time with his thrusts. You stared up at him feeling an odd sense of contentment washing over you, like you were exactly where you needed to be.
Pleasure quickly began to build inside you. It had been building since your run-in with Bucky and, now, it was approaching fever pitch.
Steve gave you a warning before he came, but you had no intention of stopping, and hearing him groaning your name was more than enough to push you over the edge too. You swallowed thickly as finished in your mouth, making sure not a single drop went to waste. The taste of him on your tongue was intoxicating, and you already knew you’d never have enough of it.
When he was done, he slumped back against the set of drawers, tucked himself away, and offered you a hand up.
Your legs trembled, but you managed to stand again, eagerly pressing your body to his as he snaked a possessive arm around your waist.
"I can’t keep you," he said with a soft exhale. "I won't claim you, but..."
That one little syllable hung in the air, giving you a small slither of hope that your life was finally going to get better.
"But?"
"But there's a place for you here, if you want it."
"A... place?" You had a thousand questions but you weren't sure how to ask them. You were still trembling from your orgasm, still pressed so close to him, wrapped up in his arms and in his scent.
"Stay here and I'll take care of you. All your needs, all your urges," he said, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "I'm willing to do everything an alpha would do for their omega, except claim you."
"You'll take care of me?" You asked. Steve nodded. "What do you get out of it?"
"I have urges too," he shrugged. "My line of work makes it hard for me to have an omega, but you just sort of fell into my lap, and I can't resist a damsel in distress."
His line of work? How did running a club (several clubs) make it hard for him to have an omega?
"There's plenty of space here, and I have the money to support you until you find something more permanent," he continued. "And besides, I want more nights like last night..."
Your legs trembled and you pressed yourself closer to him. He was going to let you stay so he could have you there any time he wanted to fuck. Maybe it should have bothered you, maybe you should have wanted more, but your heart had been wounded by Rick and you didn't want to go through that again. You didn't want to get attached if he didn't want you the same way.
"Okay," you said softly, pressing your face against his chest.
(We'll make him want to keep us. Make him want to claim us.)
"Good, I'll take you to get your things," He looked at you and smiled. "As much as I like seeing you in my clothes, I need to be able to think about something other than your body. I checked the security footage from last night,your ex left with your purse. We'll get everything of yours and you'll never have to see him again."
It was as if he'd already known that this was how things would go — not the blowjob, but you agreeing to stay with him and unofficially be his omega. Again, it should have bothered you, should have at least given you pause to wonder if you were being manipulated or used just for sex, but the scent of his arousal was still thick around you and the taste of him lingered on your tongue.
"But, I should warn you, there are rules to living here with us," he said, cupping your cheek and making sure your eyes were on him.
"Rules?" You repeated, a lump forming in your throat. "What kind of rules?"
His thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek, in a tender but possessive way, making you want to agree to anything he asked of you.
"You can't go out on your own — if you need to go somewhere, either me or Bucky will take you," Steve said. "Anything you see or hear here needs to stay between us, no matter what it is or how important you think it might be. And I need to know that I can have you whenever I want to. If you find another alpha who's worthy of you and you want to leave, I'll let you go, but until then, you're mine."
You lost yourself in his blue eyes and rich scent and nodded. Losing some of your freedom was a small price to pay if it meant being looked after by an alpha like him. If it meant being in his arms and in his bed.
He smiled and slowly released you from his grasp.
"There's some clothes in the drawer — you're a little bit smaller than Nat, but you should be able to find something that fits."
"Nat?" Your head swam as you took a step back, some desperate part of you protesting the slightest space between your bodies.
"Are you jealous, omega?" He asked, not even bothering to hold back his smile.
"No, I just..."
Okay, so you weren't jealous, but if this Nat was another omega, you knew you would be.
"She's part of the pack," Steve explained. "Another alpha."
You frowned. Alpha's were rare and it was unusual to find two in a pack, never mind three. "Another alpha?"
"We're not a typical pack," was all he offered. "Have a shower and get dressed, omega. Get yourself settled in, then come downstairs. I'll take you to get your things."
He left before you could think to stop him and your hindbrain mourned his loss as if you'd never see him again. You wondered if you'd ever get used to being around alphas and the way they made you feel. It didn't quite match how you'd expected it to be, but you certainly weren't complaining.
Once he was gone, you slipped into the ensuite bathroom and took a quick shower. Then you started to familiarise yourself with the room, easily finding the clothes that he had mentioned. Whoever this Nat was, she was bigger than you — not surprising, given she was an alpha — and the first pair of jeans you tried on almost drowned you. Even her leggings were too long.
You settled for a light, summer dress — it was still too big, but the loose fit wasn't quite as noticeable once you cinched the waist with a belt. And you felt a lot more comfortable not wearing panties with the dress. That was a line you didn't want to cross; it was all well and good borrowing some clothing, but wearing someone else's underwear was another matter entirely. You found a light grey jacket in the wardrobe that matched the blue dress, and that just left shoes.
Padding back downstairs, you could hear Steve and Bucky talking in the kitchen.
"How long?" Bucky asked, and you stilled a few steps from the door.
"As long as she needs." Steve.
"Do you think it's safe keeping her —"
"I'm not keeping her, Buck."
"Does she know that?" Bucky asked, and you could picture the smug look on his face.
"She knows. And I set some ground rules for her. She won't get in the way. She's a good omega."
(He thinks we're good. We are good. We'll be the best he's ever had. We'll make him want to keep us, your hindbrain squealed.)
"Yeah, and you know why that is, don't you?" Bucky said.
"Enough, that's not —" Steve fell silent.
You waited a beat, then started to worry that they knew you were there, listening in. When they didn't continue, you started to move, walking into the kitchen as if you'd only just come downstairs.
Steve's eyes raked up and down your body, his gaze causing gooseflesh on every inch of skin he looked at.
You forced a slow breath, reminding yourself how acute the alphas' senses were, and how easily they could tell when you were aroused. But, when you allowed yourself a glance at Bucky, you realised you couldn't tell which of the alphas was affecting you the most. You hated it. You didn't want to feel any emotion inspired by Bucky aside from annoyance, but you couldn't say with any certainty that the weakness in your knees was all because of Steve either.
"Are you ready to go?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, I just need my shoes," you answered.
Steve's gaze dropped to your bare feet and — fuck, how did that turn you on? You wished that you'd spent more time with alphas in the past, just so you could understand how much of what you felt was normal and how much of it was just them.
"They're by the door. I had them cleaned for you."
Your eyes caught Bucky's as you turned to leave the kitchen, and heat instantly started to pool low in your stomach. As much as you wanted to hate him, there was just something about him, something that made your insides thrum with a hunger you couldn't explain. He was a disgusting pig but, somehow, the draw to him was stronger than it was to Steve.
Shaking your head, you pushed the thought away. You'd ignore it. Ignore him. Steve was the one offering to look after you, the one that wanted you around. Steve was the one who'd get your attention.
It took less than a minute to find your boots and pull them on. A skitter of pleasure ran through you just at the sight of them; cleaned and shined, looking good as new. If this was how thoroughly Steve was going to look after you, then you were going to have a very comfortable time with him.
You'd just have to make sure you avoided Bucky from now on...
"No," Bucky said as you returned to the kitchen.
"You heard Sam, he needs me to deal with it," Steve said, shooting you an apologetic look the second he noticed you. "I need to go take care of something at the club. Bucky is going to take you to get your things."
"What? No, I —" you started and stopped just as abruptly when Steve’s eyebrow raised at your very quick protests. "I can wait."
"Sweetheart," Steve said softly, "it's okay, Buck'll take good care of you. Besides, if you're sticking around, you two really should get to know each other."
Bucky's words from earlier rang in your ears; did he tell you that we share sometimes?
"Fine. I'll take her." Bucky spoke before you got the chance to think of an excuse.
"Great." Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead and left, barely giving you a second to even wrap your head around what was happening.
It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room.
Bucky said nothing.
You said nothing.
You waited for a hole to open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole but it never happened.
"C'mon then, doll." The words felt like a death sentence as they left his lips because you weren't sure what being alone with him again was going to do to you.
But you followed after him as he led you out the side door to a dark SUV and got in when he opened the door for you. The only words you managed to speak were your former address when he asked for it. Then, you spent the whole ride across town awkwardly staring forward, not wanting to look his way. You tried your damnedest not to breathe, not wanting his scent filling your nose and lungs.
If Bucky noticed any of it, he kept it to himself, seeming content to just quietly drive you across the city.
Neither of you spoke until he pulled up outside Rick's building.
"What are you doing?" You asked as Bucky got out of the car.
"Helping you get your things."
"You're not coming with me."
"He put his hands on you last night, there's no chance I'm leaving you alone with him."
The look on Bucky's face told you that there was going to be no reasoning with him, but that didn't stop you from trying. "I'll be fine. He's never been like that before. And, besides, I hit him first..."
"Seriously? You think that makes it okay?"
No. You didn't. But it had taken Bucky saying it to make you realise it. You shouldn't have lashed out at Rick, but he never should've raised his hand to you either.
"Fine," you grumbled.
You didn't say another word as you led him up to the little fourth floor apartment that had been, until last night, your home. It wasn't until you reached the door that you started to wonder what you were going to find if you knocked — had he already moved Cindy in? Were you about to interrupt some tender moment between the two? Would you be able to face her without breaking her nose?
Fortunately, when the door was answered, it was just Rick. In his boxers. Looking bruised and hungover.
"You came home?" He said, almost sounding happy to see you, but that stopped the moment he saw Bucky lurking behind you. "Oh..."
"I just want my things," you said, trying to keep any and all hurt from your voice. You hated how you suddenly felt, standing in front of him like an open wound, and you felt like such an idiot for ever thinking that there might be a future with him.
Rick looked at you, then at Bucky before standing aside and letting you in.
Bucky followed after you like an unwanted shadow as you stepped into the apartment. Compared to Steve's house — or was it Steve's and Bucky's? — the apartment was small, little more than a shoebox. It felt suffocating to be back there after just one night in an actual mansion.
Rick followed Bucky — though he kept a very respectful distance.
You tried your best to ignore both of them and focused on gathering your things from the bedroom. You started with the more expensive things; your laptop and drawing tablet.
No one said anything until the silence got to be too much for Rick.
"Is this how it's going to be now?" He asked. "The silent treatment whenever we're in the same room?"
"There is no now. I'm getting my stuff and then I'm gone," you said, keeping your back to him as you unplugged your printer. "We're never going to be in the same room again."
"Look, I know I fucked up and things didn't pan out the way you wanted them to, but we could still be friends. You don't need to run off with an alpha you don't even know."
Bucky gave a low grunt that had Rick looking close to shitting himself, but the alpha didn't say anything.
You turned to glare at your ex. "Friends? You raised your hand to me. I never want to see you again."
"Fuck, do you alway have to be so fucking dramatic? You hit me first, remember?"
"Yeah and you deserved it."
Rick shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. "I should've known better than to date a fucking omega — this is why I chose Cindy over you. She doesn't get emotional over dumb shit."
It was strange in hindsight how often he'd made comments about you being emotional or for getting upset. Worst still was how often you'd allowed yourself to believe him. For eighteen months he'd made you feel like you were too sensitive just because you were an omega, and you'd let so much shit slide because of it.
"Yeah, well I hope you make each other miserable. I feel sorry for the baby,' you snapped back.
Rick took a step towards you but thought better of it as Bucky straightened.
"Just get your stuff and get the fuck out." He turned and walked out, leaving you alone with Bucky again.
"He cheated on you?" Bucky asked once the beta was gone. There was an anger in his voice that you didn't understand, partly because you'd assumed that he already knew but mostly because you didn't expect him to care.
"What d'you care?" You said, turning your attention back to your packing.
He was silent for a beat, then; "he usually talk to you like that?"
You shrugged, still not sure why any of it mattered to him.
"I should've broken his fucking jaw."
It wasn't some idle threat. He started towards the door, giving you no time to think before moving. You put yourself in front of him, hands on his arms, trying to stop him.
"Don't. Just... just leave it." You said. "He's not worth it."
You instantly realised your mistake. Too close. You were standing far too close. And, just as it had earlier, his scent started to infect you. Bucky followed as you stumbled backwards, and you found yourself pressed against the dresser. His gaze dropped to your lips and your heart started to race as he crowded you.
"What are you doing?" You hissed, daring to glance towards the door, making sure Rick wasn't lurking.
"Finishing what we started this morning." His head bowed and he let his lips ghost against yours. "I know you're not wearing anything under that dress..."
You almost lifted your face to force his lips to do more than just graze yours but the last vestiges of your common sense won out. Slamming your hands against his chest, you pushed him as hard as you could.
Bucky barely moved.
"Back off," you told him, despite the voice in your head pleading to let him bend you over the dresser and fuck you hard while your ex sat in the next room.
A low sound vibrated in the back of his throat and his head dipped again. He inhaled deeply and a tremor ran down your spine, heat licking through your core and giving him exactly what he wanted. Then he pulled away, grinning.
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "Hurry the fuck up."
Two boxes, a suitcase, and a backpack later, your entire life was packed away, and you were ready to head back to your new home and figure out just what the fuck you were going to do.
A/N : See what I mean about people being assholes in this one? Don't worry, the why's will be explained in later chapters. Anyway, thanks for the great response to the first part of this, I'm really glad people enjoyed it, and I hope you like what I have planned for it going forward.
Again, there's no set upload schedule for this one, but there is a tag list or you can subscribe to the story on Ao3.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great week!
Plot Summary : When your boyfriend turns out to be cheating piece of shit, two alphas come to your rescue. One tells you he won't keep you and the other wants nothing to do with you, but that doesn't stop the pull you feel towards them. The closer you get, the more you discover about them, and about yourself.
Pairing : Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader / Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Cheating, pregnancy mention, and smut. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, love triangle(ish), and explicit smut. There is an unspecified age gap between Alphas and reader. All characters are a little darker than usual. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 7.3k
A/N : Remember last year when I said I was working on a new Bucky thing? I found it, rewrote it, and here it is. Now it's kind of a Bucky and Steve sort of thing...
Chapter One
It was funny just how quickly everything could fall apart.
Hilarious even.
"It's nothing personal," he said with a fake smile, as if trampling all over your heart was a casual affair. "It's just... well, I always wanted a family some day..."
It wasn't the words that hurt, it was what he didn't say. Rick wanted a family, just not with you. He didn't have the balls to say the quiet part out loud; he didn't want to have kids with you because they would likely turn out to be omegas.
A year and a half ago, it wouldn't have bothered you. You would have shook his hand and wished him all the best — it wasn't like you didn't have a firsthand understanding of just how fucking difficult it was being an omega, after all. But he had taken up eighteen months of your life, happy to share your bed, your heats, without so much of a word about the future beyond the next day.
He'd let you get invested, let you believe that your relationship was going somewhere.
The beta hadn't cared about your designation when it had meant getting laid almost every single night and paid time off work every month to help with your heats.
Clearly, he'd realised that the clock was ticking and he either needed to commit to you for the family he wanted, or find someone else.
But, asshole that he was, he'd decided to do it in the middle of a night club.
On your birthday.
And you — stupid, stupid you — had let yourself hope that his recent awkwardness around you had been because he was planning on making things official and offering to claim you.
So, to say you were upset was an understatement.
Fucking livid was closer to the mark.
"Are you even listening to me?" He had the audacity to snap at you, pulling you from thoughts of murder.
You stared, almost lost for words — how did he think that he was the injured party in this?
The urge to lash out started to grow inside you, the urge to slam your first into his stupid face. But you didn't. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of behaving like the overly emotional omega he always claimed you were whenever you argued. If this was the end, you were going to end things with dignity, keeping your head held high.
"Yes, I'm listening," you snapped back. "I'm waiting for the part where you explain why you decided to wait until now to tell me."
It was cruel and, while Rick was a lot of things, he was rarely ever cruel.
He let out a slow breath. "Because I didn't want you to hear it from someone else..."
"Hear what?" Had you missed something?
"Cindy is pregnant."
Why did it matter that Cindy was...
Oh. It took an embarrassingly long moment for the penny to drop. But when it did, any and all thoughts of remaining dignified abandoned you.
"You were cheating on me?" You seethed.
"I wouldn't call it cheating. What we had was fun, but we both knew it was never going to —"
You didn't wait for him to finish before walking away. He called after but made no attempt to follow you. At least, not until he saw where you were headed.
You crossed the dancefloor, heading back to where your so-called friends were sitting, all oblivious to what had just happened. Cindy was smiling over her drink, looking so fucking smug. You'd never been close to her, or any of Rick's friends really, but you'd always made an effort to try and be nice to them.
And you, idiot that you were, had allowed yourself to believe that the betas had accepted you, that they saw you as one of their own.
Next thing you knew, there was a glass in your hand and Cindy was wearing your strawberry daiquiri. The sight of her blonde hair and white dress stained red filled you with a sweet sense of revenge. It took a moment for everyone to catch up and realise what you'd done — all while everyone shifted away from Cindy and the spreading liquid.
"You little omega bitch," Cindy spat, climbing to her feet.
"Beta skank," you retorted.
She stepped forward and you balled your fist, ready to throw a punch, but before you could swing, you were lifted off the ground.
Rick pulled you away, while everyone else rushed to comfort poor Cindy.
You kicked and thrashed as he half-pulled, half-carried you across the club, not letting go until you were in a secluded corner by the bathrooms. The second you were on your feet again, you swung for him, slapping him hard across the face. It caught him off guard and sent him reeling to the side, but he was ready when you went to hit him again.
He caught your wrist and twisted it, forcing your back against the wall.
"I get that you're pissed," he said through gritted teeth, easily holding you in place as you struggled, "but I can talk to Cindy, tell her that you still need me. I can still be there — y'know, for heats and shit, just until —"
The nerve, the fucking audacity of him had you driving your knee into his crotch, making it so it would be a very long time before he'd even be able to think about sex again.
He let go, staggering back as rage spread across his face.
"You little fucking —" his hand rose and you shrank back, bracing for a hit that never came.
Before he'd even started to swing, he was tugged backwards with such a force he almost fell over. He managed to recover but, instead of going for you again, he turned to throw a punch at whoever had grabbed him.
A second later, Rick was on the ground, blood pouring from his nose.
You dared to look at your saviour; blonde, tall, athletic, and —
Oh, he was an alpha.
Rick had no idea. His muted beta senses couldn't pick up the signs like your omega sense could. So, he got back up, thinking he stood a chance at winning a fight.
He didn't.
He took another swing and found himself on his ass again, a pained oof escaping him as he hit the floor. His eyes met yours, and you couldn't tell if he was expecting you to step in and save him, or pleading with you to help. After what he'd done, he was getting nothing from you.
"Get him out of here, Buck," the alpha said. You realised that he wasn't alone when another alpha stepped around him. "And make sure he doesn't come back."
"With pleasure." While the first alpha had the looks of an Abercrombie and Fitch model, the second had a dangerous air about him that made your legs feel weak. His eyes caught yours and your heart stuttered. Then he was gone, dragging Rick across the floor by the collar.
You sagged back against the wall, the adrenaline draining from your body and leaving you feeling exhausted. You were alone. Completely and utterly alone. In the space of five minutes, your entire life had fallen apart.
"Hey, are you okay?" He said, reminding you that the alpha was still there.
He stepped closer and you realised how pathetic you must have looked, slumped against the wall like a frightened animal.
"Yeah, I, uh..."
You finally looked at him. Really looked. Alpha through and through, beautiful in a way that had you blinking, thinking it was your omega sense playing a trick. A shuddering breath escaped you as his scent reached you; an earthy smell that reminded you of a forest after the rain.
Your omega stirred inside you — it had been so long since you'd last been around an alpha, and your instinctual desire left your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Something in the way he looked at you had you wondering if you were the first omega he'd seen in a while. After all, omegas were even rarer than alphas in places like New York.
All it took was a sniff from him to confirm it. He knew what you were.
It should have scared you, knowing how easily an alpha could turn your biology against you, knowing how their urges could be almost as uncontrollable as yours at times. But it didn't.
A shiver ran up your spine as his expression softened.
"There's no need to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you here," he said, offering you his hand. "Come with me."
Your response was instinctual and automatic, slotting your hand into his. The contact was enough to have heat sparking in your belly, though you tried to ignore it.
His fingers wrapped around yours, grip firm but loose, giving you the illusion that you could escape him if you wanted to. Though, rationally, you knew you stood no chance at outrunning an alpha.
People stepped aside for him as he led you across the club, eyes widening at the sight of him. Betas, all of them — they had no idea that he was an alpha, but they could all see the gorgeous specimen of a man as he passed them.
A familiar face caught your attention. Cindy gaped at you and the man holding your hand, her dress stained despite her best attempts to dry it.
"Friend of yours?" The alpha asked.
"No, she just ruined my life."
"We'll see about that," he said, giving a subtle smile.
He led you beyond the velvet rope that separated the VIP area from the main club, the bouncer instantly stepping aside for him. You thought you heard someone call him sir, but you were too busy taking in the clean and much quieter area, away from the bustle of the dance floor.
His hand slipped from yours as you reached a booth and pressed gently on your lower back, urging you to sit. the hand trailed from your back to your waist as you followed his silent command, skin heating beneath his touch.
Was it shock or some innate desire that had you following him without question? Were you thinking clearly, or was your hindbrain in the driving seat?
You were almost disappointed when he slid into the booth opposite you instead of sitting next to you. And, while there were other people in the VIP area, your every sense was trained on him. It was almost overwhelming — his proximity, the way your emotions were still running rampant — and you'd never felt anything like it.
(He saved you, the alpha protected you, he’s big and strong, everything we want, everything we needed —)
Shaking your head, you tried to silence your hindbrain.
Without a word, three glasses were placed on the table, along with a bottle of whisky. He must have given some sign to the bartender, because he hadn't uttered a word.
He filled two glasses, then slid one to you.
"It'll help settle your nerves," he said.
Your hand trembled as you reached for the glass, eyes still fixed on him. It should have worried you how your every thought was him; his approving gaze as you knocked back the drink, his scent, his smile, and the way his throat bobbed when he drained his own glass.
The whisky burned its way down your throat, causing the heat that was building low in your belly to intensify. Realistically, you knew it was just biology but, honestly? You were more than happy to go with it after the night you'd had.
That was why you didn't say anything or try to stop him when he refilled your glass.
"I'm Steve," he said.
You'd been so caught up in everything that you hadn't even thought about his name. You quickly offered your name in a low, timid voice.
There was silence for a moment, like he was waiting for you to continue, to address the elephant in the room.
"You're — you're an alpha."
"I am," he said, not bothering to point out the obvious about your biology.
Despite already knowing it, his confirmation set your hindbrain buzzing and had the purely omega part of you desperate to be let out. And you almost let it, but it was dangerous to give in to that side of your nature, no matter how sweetly it begged.
You took another drink, scrunching your nose as the alcohol burned its way down your throat again.
"Want to talk about it?" Steve offered.
The question alone was enough to send you into a tailspin — you'd done nothing wrong, but you still felt ashamed, like you should have done more to keep Rick faithful. As an omega, you weren't meant to be alone and it felt like a failing to still be single at your age.
Your gaze dropped to the table.
"Was that guy your boyfriend?" He continued.
"He was," you said. Steve stayed quiet, letting you decide if you wanted to elaborate. "I just found out he's been cheating on me and she's pregnant."
He blew out his cheeks and shook his head. "He sounds like a real idiot to me, sweetheart. You're better off without him."
Sweetheart? Your omega preened.
"How long were you together?"
"About a year and a half," you said, taking another drink. "He said he wanted a family, just not with me..."
"Because you're an omega?"
"Yeah — not that he cared about my designation when it meant getting laid every night." The second you realised what you'd said, your cheeks grew hotter. Maybe you'd had enough to drink.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it won't take him long to realise he made a mistake letting you go."
You smiled, and it was strange because you couldn't remember the last time you'd just smiled at anything. Hell, you couldn't even remember the last time anyone had been genuinely nice to you without some ulterior motive.
You reached for your glass again and took another drink, trying to drown the realisation that you couldn't remember the last time you'd actually been happy.
"I don't know why he had to wait to tell me on my birthday though..." you said, not able to hold it in.
"It's your birthday?" He asked, annoyance lacing his tone.
You nodded.
"In that case, we need to celebrate."
He refilled your glass again, sparking a longing ache inside of you — you wanted him to look after you, to take care of you. You wanted to belong and be kept.
No — no, that wasn't what you wanted.
That was the alcohol and your hindbrain talking.
Only...
Even if you didn't want any of that, you needed it. So much of your life had been tied up in Rick and the future you thought you'd have. He'd helped support you financially, and all of your stuff was still at his place...
"Happy birthday," Steve said, pulling you back to the moment as he raised his glass in toast.
You raised your glass in response, then took a slow drink, eyes dropping again.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just..." you fell silent for a few seconds, "I don't know. I just thought by the time I got to this age that things would be different."
"How did you think it was going to be?" He sat back, giving you space to think.
"I thought I'd at least have a steady job, or some money saved..."
"You don't have a job?"
You shook your head. "I work freelance mostly, but it doesn't exactly pay well," you explained. "It's hard getting steady work when I can only work three weeks a month."
He gave an understanding nod. While alpha's didn't have to suffer monthly because of their designation, every three or so months, their ruts would hit and their primal instincts would take control for a week.
Just the thought of Steve rutting had you shifting in your seat, blood running hot. You'd never been with an alpha, let alone one in rut. Your mouth went dry as you pictured it; him on top of you, behind you, inside you. You forced yourself to drain your glass just to take your mind off of it, but the buzz of alcohol was already dulling your inhibitions, making you want.
The problem with Rick was that he'd always encouraged these moments — though, admittedly, the beta had never affected you quite as much as Steve was managing to — he'd always been more than happy to end a night out or pull you into a bathroom if it meant getting his dick wet. Your heart fluttered every time Steve looked at you, sparking a visceral reaction in your body. That he was listening to you, showing an interest, made you feel seen in a way that you hadn't since you'd first started dating Rick.
He asked you a few questions about your work and you explained that you were an artist, but you mostly did graphic design because it paid better. Sometimes you'd do commission, things like portraits and paintings of people's pets, but it was mostly things like corporate logos that paid the bills.
Steven seemed interested — more interested than Rick had ever been — and kept asking you questions. Where were you from? A little town in Ohio. What brought you to New York? You wanted a change of scenery. Did you come to the club a lot? Yes, but only when Rick wanted to.
"We don't get many omegas in here," Steve said. You gave him a questioning look. "I — we — own the place."
"You own the club?" It shouldn't have surprised you, alpha's tended to be successful.
"This one and a couple of others across the city," he shrugged.
We. You wanted to ask what he'd meant by that but before you could find the words, someone slid into the booth beside you.
"He's been dealt with," the dark haired alpha said.
He pulled a cloth from his jacket and proceeded to wipe blood off his gloves. It should have unsettled you, terrified you even — what the fuck had he done to Rick? — instead more heat licked through your body, this time settling at your core. Steve's scent had been intoxicating enough, now that you had to contend with two alphas you felt like you were drowning and all you wanted to do was take a deep breath.
You were so used to being around betas that you didn't realise your own scent was betraying you until Bucky looked your way, his cold blue eyes narrowing as he took the smallest sniff. But you couldn't help it, couldn't control it. The whisky certainly wasn't helping. Smothered by two very distinct alpha scents, your hindbrain got bolder and harder to ignore.
(Imagine being between them, letting them hold you, touch you, fuck you, the voice in the back of your head said. She was really starting to get out of control.)
"This is Bucky," Steve said, introducing his friend either missing or ignoring how your breathing had turned shallow.
When he introduced you to Bucky, you managed a smile.
"Did her friend give you any trouble?" Steve asked.
"No, but I made sure he won't come back. And I had a nice long chat about him raising his hand to women," Bucky said, filling himself a glass and shooting you a glance. "He won't bother you again."
Your brain practically misfired; half an hour ago you'd found out that your boyfriend was cheating on you, now you had two alpha's protecting you.
The thoughts in your head got louder and louder, your omega half wanting to throw herself at the alpha's. It was pathetic, but clearly you weren't above being a little pathetic when you were drunk and heartbroken.
"Keep her company for a minute. I need to go see Sam about something," Steve said, pulling you back to the moment. He slid out of the booth, and left you alone with Bucky.
For all of a second, you dared to hope that it would be easier to focus with only one alpha, but if anything it was harder. His scent was stronger, almost overpowering — probably because he was sitting closer. Burning wood and roasted coffee, strong, dark scents that made you tremble in anticipation. Though what you were anticipating, you couldn't quite say.
"He's not gonna keep you," Bucky said the moment Steve left the VIP area.
"What?"
"Steve. He likes to play the hero, but if you're looking for an alpha to claim you, it won't be him."
You didn't think he was saying it to be cruel, but it felt cruel. It made something in the back of your mind itch, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch it out.
"Are the two of you..." you left the question unfinished, knowing he'd be able to fill in the blanks. Steve had said we earlier, maybe that meant that he and Bucky were bonded or even mates. It wasn't entirely unheard of for two alpha's to mate.
"We're a pack."
Oh, that made sense. They had a pack bond — not quite the same as a romantic bond or a mating bond, but close enough.
"I don't want anything from him," you said, forcing yourself to keep your head up high.
Bucky smirked, his eyes running up and down your body. "You think I can't smell what you want?"
Squirming, you backed away from him, forcing yourself into the corner of the booth. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He didn't let you put any space between you, he slid closer, boxing you in. When he draped an arm across the back of the booth, your heart almost stopped. He leaned in close, that dangerous scent threatening to swallow you whole. "I can smell how wet you are."
You should have been disgusted. You should have pushed him away — especially as he tangled his fingers in your hair — but you didn't. There was just... something about him that held you in place. Even as he leaned closer, the tip of his nose grazed your throat, your mating gland.
A whimper slipped from your lips and he pulled away, a triumphant grin on his lips. "Typical omega."
"What —" the moment had left you too dazed to summon the ire you knew you should have been feeling, "— what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Me? I'm not the one getting hot and bothered over someone I only just met."
"That's — I'm not." Where had the fight gone you'd had not an hour ago when you slapped Rick? Why were you letting this prick talk to you like that? Letting him nuzzle at your mating gland?
And why the fuck was your hindbrain desperate for you to press yourself closer to him?
"When he takes you to bed tonight, just remember that you'll be out in the morning."
You opened your mouth to respond just as Steve slid back into the booth.
"You two playing nice?" He asked, smiling at just how close Bucky was to you.
Bucky pulled away instantly. "I'll go check everything's okay in the office. Let me know when you want to leave."
He barely gave you a second glance as he knocked back his drink and stepped out of the booth. But you watched him and you hated yourself for it, almost as much as you hated how right he'd been. You were wet and, despite his warning about Steve, part of you was eager to offer yourself up to the alpha.
And if Bucky could read you that easily, you were pretty certain that Steve knew too.
"Don't mind him, he's a miserable old man." Steve said.
"I should go," you said abruptly, deciding that nothing good was going to come of any of this.
"What did he say to you?" He sounded almost resigned to the fact that Bucky must have said something terrible.
But, as uncomfortable as the interaction had been, you didn't want to cause drama in someone else's pack. "Nothing. Really. It's just getting late and I need to figure out where I'm staying tonight and —"
You fell silent with the awful realisation that you had no idea where your purse was. Where your phone was.
"What's wrong?"
"I left my purse with Rick's friends — everything was in there, my phone, my credit card..." your panic was palpable and a brief flicker of worry on Steve's face was enough to tell you he could smell it.
You made to slide out of the booth, but stopped when his hand covered yours. For a second your worry and panic just vanished, and all you could think about was how soft and warm his hand was.
Words failed as you looked at him, but he didn't need you to say anything. He gave a wave of his hand, drawing the bouncer to the table and quickly explained the situation. The big man nodded before heading out into the club proper to try and find you things. While you didn't think Rick or his friends would steal from you, they were no longer under any obligation to make sure no one else did.
"It's okay," Steve said, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.
(The alpha is taking care of us, protecting us, comforting us... we should let him have us, your hindbrain whined.)
"Everything's fallen apart," you murmured, ignoring the voice telling you to throw yourself at him. "I've got no money, nowhere to go..."
"Don't worry about any of that. I'll make sure you're okay."
His thumb continued its tender caress and what little remained of your common sense started to slip away. So much so that your free hand drifted back to your glass and raised it to your lips.
"He said you won't keep me," you confessed, looking first at Steve's face, then his hand on yours. "Your friend. He said if you take me home, you won't keep me."
"Do you want to be kept?" He asked, thumb never stilling.
(YES.)
"N-no," you answered, all too aware of the spike in your arousal. "I don't want to be kept, I just want... I want to feel like I matter..."
It should have been harder to admit considering he was practically a stranger, but the alcohol mixed with the intoxicating scent of alpha had rendered you needy, making you want. By this point in the evening, you would have already fucked Rick and he would have done his best to sate your urges, instead you were sitting across from an alpha and contending with a longing ache between your thighs.
"I could make you feel like you matter," he said, voice turning low and deep.
"You... you could?"
He nodded. "I know exactly what an omega like you needs."
That was good because you had absolutely no idea what an omega like you needed.
The bouncer returned, explaining that your purse was nowhere to be found and that your 'friends' had left, but you were too caught up in what Steve had said and the promise that lurked beneath his words.
"Stay with me tonight while I track down your things." It wasn't an offer or a suggestion, more a command.
You nodded before even taking a second to think about it, but what else were you going to do? All of your so-called friends were really Rick's friends and, without your credit card, you wouldn't be able to stay at a hotel. The only other option was crawling back to Rick, and it would be a cold day in hell before you allowed yourself to do that.
No, an alpha wanted to care for you and your biology made it impossible to refuse.
His hand took hold of yours again and, without a word, he helped you from the booth. Your legs trembled beneath you and you couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or what you were about to do. You stumbled and found yourself against his chest, an arm protectively wrapped around your waist.
"Easy there," he said softly.
(So strong, so protective... we can make him want to keep us...)
The heat that had been building inside you over the last couple of hours reached a fever pitch, every fibre of your being thrumming with an aching want that you'd never experienced before. It took every ounce of your frayed self-control to pull yourself away from him, instead of lingering and breathing in his scent.
You were a mess of urges and barely coherent thoughts as he led you out the back of the club to where a black SUV was parked.
Bucky was waiting by the car and shook his head when he saw you.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, doll," he muttered as he opened the back door.
"Leave it, Buck. She knows what she wants," Steve said, helping you into the car. You missed whatever Bucky grumbled in response.
Steve got into the car beside you, draping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. As Bucky got in and started the car, Steve nuzzled at your neck, lips and the tip of his nose grazing your gland.
You had to bite your lip to keep from whimpering, acutely aware the Bucky was right there.
"Don't worry about him, sweetheart," Steve murmured. "He doesn't care what we get up to back here."
His hand found your thigh and your hindbrain went into overdrive, wanting you to beg and plead for his touch. All rational thought abandoned you. If he'd dared to shift his hand higher, you would have let him — hell, you would have parted your legs for him. The needy ache between your thighs turned into a pulsing want, and when you heard Steve inhale, you knew he could smell your arousal.
"You really need this, don't you?" He said, still keeping his voice low — though, if you'd been thinking clearly, you would have known that Bucky could hear every word.
You nodded, angling your head to give him better access to your neck and slipping a little further into a state of mindless omega lust.
"You know... we could smell you the moment you got to the club," he continued, "but when we saw you with that beta, we assumed you were spoken for. If I’d known what he was like, I would’ve rescued you hours ago..."
There were no words, no rational thoughts left.
(He wanted us... he wanted us all night, your hindbrain sang in triumph.)
It was a short drive — at least, it felt short, but your grip on reality was tenuous at best while he was nuzzling at your neck — and the car was soon stopped in front of a large house, gated off from the rest of the world. You had no idea where you were, but you didn't care. All you cared about was Steve and the way he was leading you into his home.
(Alpha, alpha, alpha, the voice in your head chanted.)
The further you got into the house, the harder it became to ignore the scent of his arousal. It was suffocating. Every breath you took was him. You'd never experienced anything like it, beta scents were too muted, too bland to cause so visceral a reaction in you. Your own scent was out of control and long forgotten, but you didn't care about hiding it anymore. You wanted him.
A door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in a dimly lit room and, finally, his lips found yours.
He pressed you back against the door, caging you in with his body, devouring you with his kiss. You let slip a desperate whine, a purely omega sound that betrayed every ounce of your longing. Your knuckles ached and you realised that you were gripping his shirt, eagerly holding him in the kiss, as if you thought he might slip away from you.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asked.
"Yes."
He took a shuddered breath. "I won't keep you."
It should have stung, should have made you reconsider, but you were too far gone, fighting a losing battle against your hindbrain and your omega. Besides, you had needs and, even if it was only one night, you already knew he'd know exactly how to satisfy you.
(We can make him keep us, the voice in your head said again.)
"I know."
You barely got the words out before his lips were on you again. He lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning wildly as his hips pressed to yours and you felt the hard outline of his cock between your thighs.
"I can smell how wet you are," he groaned, grinding against you.
Your mind flashed back to the club, to Bucky, to the way it had felt as his nose grazed your gland, and you moaned again. Fuck — why were you thinking about that asshole while Steve had you in his arms? And why did you wonder what it’d feel like to be in his arms?
"Have you ever been with an alpha?"
"N-no," you answered, stammering as his hips shifted again.
A low sound vibrated from the back of his throat, a possessive alpha sound that made you tremble in his arms.
"Once you have an alpha, you'll never be satisfied with a beta again."
You were sure his words were meant as a warning, to let you know that you were about to cross a line, but you didn't care. He'd made you feel more in the last two hours than Rick had made you feel in eighteen months, and you needed it. You needed one night where life felt good.
Fingers tangled in his hair, giving a light tug, forcing him to look at you. "I know, I just... I need..."
You couldn't find the words, but he could.
"You need an alpha to take care of you?" He said and you nodded. "You want to feel like you matter — you do matter."
He turned, easily carrying you away from the door and further into the room. He placed you down beside the bed and made quick work of unzipping your dress, pushing it from your shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. Your hands started to tug at the buttons of his shirt, while Steve's hands explored the skin that he'd uncovered. You'd never been more glad of not wearing a bra.
Shrugging off his shirt, he stepped closer, forcing you backwards. The backs of your knees hit the bed and you fell back, landing with your legs splayed. An open invitation to the alpha. Through the gloom you could make out his eyes, fixed on you as he quickly stripped down to his boxers.
When he touched you again, he dragged his hand up your thigh to your panties. A sharp tug was all it took to rip them away from your body and, before you had time to think about it you felt his hot breath between your legs.
A soft but desperate keen escaped you as his fingers slipped through your slick arousal, spreading you open and bearing you to him as he —
"Oh fuck, Steve!" You cried the moment you felt his tongue on you.
Your hips jerked as his tongue ran through your folds, lapping your slick before moving to tease your throbbing clit. Nothing had ever felt so good, nothing had ever made you feel so desperate and needy. Every nerve in your body sparked with pleasure as his tongue moved, and every breath you took was him.
Fingers tangled in his hair, but when you tried to move, tried to grind yourself against his lips and tongue, he let out a low growl and pressed a hand to your stomach, pinning you down.
(Fuck, he's so dominant, submit, submit, submit, your hindbrain squealed in ecstasy.)
"Please!" You begged, not caring how loud you were being.
Every shred of restraint you possessed was officially gone, replaced entirely by your hindbrain and your omega desires. You were running on pure instinct, and that instinct said to lay back and take whatever the alpha was offering.
You came easily, your fingers tugging at his hair as you drowned in pure pleasure, desperate for more. He kept going, kept sliding the flat of his tongue against you until you were a shuddering, overstimulated mess. Already you were regretting that it would be a one night only thing.
The mattress dipped as Steve crawled up your body, lips and tongue exploring every inch of skin he came across. You gasped and whined as his teeth grazed your nipple, and — honestly? In that moment there wasn't a damned thing you wouldn't have done if he'd asked you to. He continued upwards after a few seconds, playfully nipping at your collarbone and kissing your neck before leaning over you.
Light filled the room and you couldn't suddenly see him perfectly. He'd turned on a lamp and was staring down at you with a barely restrained hunger. When he licked his lips, you realised that his chin was glistening with your slick. The delicious sight was so distracting that you didn't notice him reaching between your thighs until two fingers sank inside you.
He kissed you, swallowing the moan that tried to bubble out of you, and muffling his own groan.
His fingers moved, easily sliding in and out of your cunt, making you writhe beneath him. It wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed all of him. You wanted his cock.
"Soon," he murmured, as if he read your mind, bending and scissoring his fingers inside you. "I want to make sure you're ready. I don't want to hurt you."
At any other time you would have appreciated the sweetness of the gesture, but you were beyond sweetness. You were nothing more than a creature of pure need. He kissed you again before you could complain, a quiet display of who was in charge. And you loved it. You wanted more of it, for him to take complete control.
His thumb pressed against your clit with each plunge of his fingers and you felt that telltale tension starting to coil in your stomach again. You were going to come and then he was going to fuck you. The thought alone had your thighs trembling and you were so worked up that you almost screamed when his fingers bent inside you, teasing that special spot inside you.
The second orgasm was more intense than the first, enough that you started to purr as you moaned, your omega half wresting control from you completely.
How had you survived without the touch of an alpha for so long? How had you spent eighteen months with Rick when you could have been having something like this?
You whined as he withdrew his fingers, but your feelings of emptiness were quickly forgotten as he brought them to your lips and slipped them into your mouth. Moaning, you sucked his fingers, enjoying the taste of yourself on them. Your eyes closed, licking and sucking until he pulled his hand away.
When you looked again, he'd pulled a condom from the nightstand and was rolling it down his length. Your breath caught at the sight of him kneeling between your spread legs, his cock hard and — fuck, he was so much bigger than you were used to.
He finished with the condom and you pouted, your hindbrain sulking, wanting him to fuck you bare. It was a good thing he hadn't asked you because you probably would have begged him for it.
"Present for me, omega," he said, his voice suddenly much lower, more gravelly than before.
Oh, you realised, his alpha was finally coming out to play.
Your body shook and trembled, but you immediately did as you were told, clumsily moving to your hands and knees in front of him. It had been so long since you'd presented for anyone, but the moment you were settled, everything in your mind seemed to blank. This was where you belonged, where you were meant to be.
Your back arched as he dragged a finger down your spine and across to your hip, where he gripped you tight. The slightest nudge of his cock was all it took to have you moaning again, his hold stopping you from impaling yourself on him before he was ready. Sensitive and needy, you whined, unable to even form the words you'd need to beg him to fuck you.
But you didn't need to beg because he wanted the same thing as you.
He held you in place as he sank his cock into the waiting heat of you. The sensation had you cursing and whining and moaning, making all manner of noises that could no doubt be heard on the other side of the house. He moved slowly, almost delicately, trying to save you from any discomfort.
But any discomfort was secondary to the way your body thrummed with need, pushing you to heights you'd never experienced before. Being with an alpha was everything you'd never even realised you'd needed.
"That's it, sweetheart," he groaned, bottoming out. "That's a good omega."
It spoke to something deep and primal within you, and all you wanted to be was good for the alpha.
(Your alpha.)
No, not your alpha. Just your alpha... for the night.
He fucked you with slow, deep strokes, letting you feel every inch of him and, when you tried to move, tried to push back against him, he tightened his grip on you hips and held you in place.
It made your hindbrain sing to feel completely at his mercy, his to do with as he pleased — and he certainly seemed pleased to be fucking you. Pleasure became the only thing that mattered and every other thought vanished from your head; there was no more break up, no more Rick and Cindy, and no worries about what you'd do in the morning. There was just Steve, inside you, fucking you to heights you hadn't even known existed before tonight.
After years of betas who only wanted to use you for your libido, you finally knew what it was like to be with someone who knew how to bring you pleasure.
Your eyes rolled back and you gave in to the primal part of you, eagerly whining and moaning as he dragged his cock in and out of your cunt. He easily pushed you to another orgasm, letting out a low groan of his own as your walls fluttered and clenched around him.
When he pulled out, leaving you empty and bereft, you felt like the world was ending. You babbled and protested, every fibre of your being mourning his loss.
The two seconds it took for him to move you onto your back and slide back inside you were two of the longest seconds of your life.
Your legs wrapped around his waist as he started to move again, keeping him close, making sure he didn't pull out again. His hands gripped your hips, strong arms effortlessly pulling you into every thrust of his hips.
"Steve..." you moaned.
He fucked you until you came again, then he followed suit. You whined at the dull sensation of his cock throbbing inside you, wishing you'd begged him not to wear a condom.
When he pulled out and rolled away, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling, a strange laugh bubbling out of you.
"Something funny?" Steve asked, settling beside you.
It took you a moment to find your voice again. "I just never knew being with an alpha would be like... like that..."
(Make him keep us. He needs to keep us. We need that again. We need to belong to him.)
You were too exhausted to even try to rationalise what your hindbrain wanted, you just curled up against Steve and fell asleep.
A/N : So, first and foremost, there is no upload schedule for this fic. I have around 5 chapters planned but I have no idea if it will take two weeks or two months between chapters. If you want to follow this, I can do a tag list, otherwise, I'd suggestion subscribing on Ao3 (hungermakesmonsters).
Second, if you're new here... I don't normally write Steve Rogers (you can probably tell). So, to avoid disappointment, don't feel like you have to follow me if you're expecting more of that (though, never say never, I guess?)
Third, this is going to be a darker story. It's not all cuteness and rainbows, and people will be assholes. That said, it's not going to be dead-dove dark, just some crime and a little bit of violence. And, obviously, there's the sex-positive omegaverse elements. As always, each chapter will have TWs listed.
Finally, thank you so much for checking this out!
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great week!
🧚🏻♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now (if you feel inspired) you must share a hoe thot about: CE!babe + mesmerized by your scent (maybe with some primal chase kink thrown in 👀)
Oh my lord, Siri! I know I talked to you about this in DMs, but then I decided to be really indulgent. Cause who wants to decide?
Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader, side of Ari Levinson x Reader and Curtis Everett x Reader
Word Count: 460
Summary: He catches a scent in the air.
Warnings: Barely Edited, Stalking/Hunting, Soft Dark/Dark Vibes, Omegaverse, Scents, Dubious Consent. Minors do not interact (18+).
Follow @foxglovefics and sign up for notifications for when I post if you wanna be in the know.
Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!
It hit him as he was walking through the Hallmark store, buying a stupid birthday present for some random person in the office. He was grumbling to himself, and then you were there. Not in person, no. But your scent. Drifting through the air conditioned breeze and stealing all sense from his system. A switch flicked.
His alpha demanded, and he was happy to comply.
Even with the bustling mall, crowds of people darting and perusing, he doesn’t lose your scent. Following past storefronts—even those that waft obnoxious colognes out their doors—and the food court—with the smell of food flooding the air. Your trail leads him to you.
He wonders if you know. If you sense him. The predator on your tail. Stalking after you on the hunt.
He pauses in front of the sporting goods store. Ari and Curtis exiting as he approaches. A wild, feral look in each of his packmate’s eyes. But they find him in the crowd. Without a word, joining him on his search to find you.
Three pairs of eyes scan their surroundings. Their combined instincts goading them on.
They find you in the parking garage. The breeze changing. Your scent still lingering. But they see you. The tension in your shoulders. The shiver of your figure. Your quick steps and swinging gaze. Looking for them as much as they’re looking for you. Distress sours your scent. Your feet scurry. Pace rapid as you try to get to the safety of your car. You know. You can feel them, smell them.
He and his packmates continue their pursuit.
A nod to the side separates them. Their formation fanning out. Corralling you wherever you’re going.
You shove your key into the door of your car, hands shaking, nearly fumbling them. Scratches form on the handle with your missed attempts. But then it notches in the lock and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief.
He’s at your back before you can. You whip around, pathetic growl rolling in your throat. His lips tilt in a smirk.
“No need for that, omega,” he says, holding up a hand to dismiss the sound. Ari and Curtis come into his periphery. Ari’s eyes softening at the growl in your throat, Curtis’ eyes hungry.
You’re too focused on him to notice. And he steps forward, crowding you into the cool metal of your car.
“Easy now,” he coos in a whisper just for you. One hand raises to cup your cheek, your eyes widening at the touch. “It’s nice to meet you.” Your scent fills his nose—even tainted as it is by your fear. “That’s Ari and Curtis,” he introduces with a nod to each at his side, “and I’m Andy. We’re your new alphas.”
Summary: Ransom, Andy and Ari deal with the fallout from Lloyd’s latest exploits.
Characters: Ransom Drysdale, Andy Barber, Ari Levinson
Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x reader
W/C: 1k
Warnings: Descriptions of violence, patriarchal view points, hints of captivity, Mob AU, Minors DNI
A/N: Sooo, thanks to @krirebr for planting the seed on this whole AU. I have so much planned and I’m so excited to build this world and share it with all of you! I would really love any and all feedback on this, so anything you can say would be super appreciated. As always, likes, reblogs and asks are always welcome.
"How do you think this is gonna go down?" Andy sighed as he looked at the papers laid out in front of him.
"How do you think this is gonna go down." Ransom picked at a piece of lint on his sweater absently as he inspected Andy.
"Lloyd's made a mess here. This isn't like the charges for Everett." Andy tried to keep his tone casual, but knew by the uptick in Ransom's eyebrow that he failed.
"I'm well aware that these are starkly different cases, Barber." Ransom's stare finally left Andy as he stood from behind the old desk in his office. He moved to the bar cart in the corner, pouring himself a glass before turning back to Andy and leaning against the cart. "I'm telling you, that Lloyd will not be serving any time for it. Nor should this go on his record. Am I clear?"
It took everything in Andy to maintain his composure. "I'll talk to the D.A. See if I can point them in a different direction."
He stood and gathered up his paperwork, ready to leave the office and make grovelling phone calls, pulling himself together to deliver parting advice to his boss. "I know Lloyd's your brother. But he's bringing in a lot of attention, and not in a good way. If you can't reign him in, I may not be able to keep the charges away for much longer."
Ransom gave Andy a long look. Tapping on the crystal of his glass as he made his way back behind the mahogany desk. He pursed his lips, his gaze landing on Andy one final time. "I'll keep it in mind."
With that, Andy took that as the dismissal it was and promptly set his sights on the courthouse.
Ransom flipped through his copy of the charges, passed along by one of the cops he had flipped. Well, he hadn't flipped him. But he worked for Ransom now, and really that was all that mattered. The sigh that left his chest was heavy.
"What am I gonna do about you, Hansen?"
Kidnapping. Assault with a deadly weapon. All charges Lloyd had slid past before.
The murder charge though? They had never had enough to charge him with murder. Lloyd was usually too careful, too smart, for them to have enough evidence to lay charges.
Ransom unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts, hesitating before dialing. "Hey, need you to come to my office. Now." with that he hung up the phone and steepled his fingers as he waited.
His jaw clenched and unclenched. Thankful his grandfather wasn't alive to see this shitshow unfold. It was bad enough Mother would be calling to scream at him.
A light tap on the door drew him from his thoughts, "Come." His only response.
"You wanted to see me Sir?" Despite his stature, Ari was meek in front of his boss. It always left Ransom feeling much better about his position in the family.
"You need to put a tighter leash on Lloyd."
The silence that stretched after his statement had Ransom glancing up at Ari. He raised his eyebrows in question. "Is there a problem?"
Ari wrung his hands and swallowed roughly, "You of all people know what your brothers like. He's not going to be happy about me putting someone on him."
Ransom scoffed, "Well you can tell him, if he didn't get this family neck high in shit, he wouldn't have a babysitter." He narrowed his eyes at Ari, "You're with him for the next little while until," he gestured to the paper strewn across his desk, "this goes away. Understood?"
Ari huffed out a laugh, "You think because I'm there he's gonna be on his best behaviour?" Ari crossed the room to Ransom's desk, plucking out a crime scene photo of the victim and holding it up to Ransom. "You know damn well that I was there for this, and there wasn't a goddamn thing that was stopping Lloyd."
Ransom chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I know who was where and when Levinson, I don't need you to remind me."
Ari inspected Ransom closely for a few moments, sliding the picture back into the stack of papers. "I'll keep an eye on him, maybe send him on some low hanging fruit to keep him busy for a bit."
Ransom hummed, "Anything else on fire while you're here?"
Ari chuckled softly, "No, Everett's working on the payment collections, no force required so far. I've heard some whispers about the feds trying to get involved, but nothing concrete. I'll let you know if anything comes up, and handle what I can."
Ransom sent him a strained smile, "Keep me posted on Lloyd. We can't have this turn into a bigger mess than it already is."
Ari nodded, he paused with his hand on the door, but shook his head and left. Ransom knew what he was about to suggest, it wouldn't be the first time someone had told him that Lloyd needed to be taken out for the good of the family. But he was not about to be one the to put a hit on his own brother. Especially given the fact that he knew he didn't have a man close enough to matching Lloyd.
Ransom pinched the bridge of his nose as his phone vibrated on the desk. Mother could wait. He gathered the papers that were littering his desk and shoved them back in the manila envelope he had received them in and slammed them in the top drawer of his desk. He swirled the last dregs of his drink in the tumbler before shooting it back.
Standing he shrugged on his jacket and scarf, glancing back to his desk one more time, "Are you coming or what?"
You unfolded yourself from underneath the desk, your joints screaming at the ache. You tried not to let the disgust show on your face at everything you had heard from beneath your husbands desk. As you approached Ransom on unsteady legs, he smoothed a hand down your dress, nodding his approval. You shakily followed him out of his office and down to his car.
Pairing: Curtis Everett x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,274
Summary: Today wasn’t like all the other days since you’d been taken by Curtis. Today was different… because today was your birthday.
Warnings: Mob AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Mob elements. Captivity. Soft!Dark!Curtis. Angst. Unprotected sex.
A/N: Hoe’kay, so. There’s been quite a bit of interest in Prized Possession!Curtis lately (which, THANK YOU!!)–and also a desire for him to be redeemed, at least a little. Although I don’t think that’s possible in my canon verse, I do have this AU birthday oneshot that I love and I wanted to share as a lil soothing balm for the nonnies who are dying for a softer side of this Curtis. Enjoy ❤️
Prized Possession Masterlist
It had been almost a year since Curtis murdered your family and took you as his prize.
Almost a year of daily defilement and cruelty, of being used until you felt like your body was his now and nothing more than a collection of holes for him to play with and ruin.
But today wasn’t just another day in captivity–another day enduring the waking nightmare that had become your life.
Today was your birthday.
And you had never felt more hopeless and miserable in your life.
You were in no mood to celebrate and had zero defenses. You felt so unbelievably alone, so sad and devastated, completely empty and desolate inside.
So when Curtis appeared in the bedroom to find you still donning your lacy sleep dress well past noon as you curled up in the window seat overlooking the back garden, you didn’t perk up in alarm like you usually did.
You didn’t recoil or cower as his reflection appeared behind you in the window, looming over you as his finger dragged along the bare curve of your shoulder to make his presence–and his possession of you–known.
You just released a shaky exhale and pressed your forehead against the cool glass, resigned to your fate as the drag of his finger turned to the firm grip of his hand around your bicep as he pulled you to your feet before him.
His lips quirked at the way you avoided his gaze, the way your shoulders curled protectively–like you could really defend yourself against him in any way. Curtis’ big hand glided around your hip and down until he was gripping your ass and tugging you flush against him.
You could feel him growing hard against your belly, his free hand lifting to grip your throat, and it was the firm almost painful grip around your neck that had tears springing to your eyes and the plea falling from your lips before you could think to suppress it.
“Please don’t hurt me or humiliate me, not today.”
Curtis quirked an eyebrow, looking amused by your request. “And what makes today so special?”
“I…” your voice broke, your gaze falling away because you suddenly felt so stupid, and embarrassed.
You felt so vulnerable–which was ridiculous given your circumstances–but it was how you felt all the same.
And your shyness and silent distress only piqued Curtis’ interest even more.
His grip on your throat shifted to his fingers holding your chin, and he pointed your gaze at his. “Tell me.”
“It’s my birthday,” you whispered. “And I… I just don’t want to hurt today. Please.”
Something you had never seen before flashed in Curtis’ eyes as he watched you, and although you couldn’t quite identify it, your body had a visceral and emotional reaction to that unfamiliar look.
Shuddering, your face crumpled as your emotions rose up within you, a hot flood of tears spilling over as you dropped your forehead to Curtis’ chest, clutched his shirt between your fingers, and cried.
“Please, I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I just want it to stop. I’m so tired. I’m so tired of hurting and feeling dirty. Of being so alone. It’s my birthday, and I’m all alone. I’m all alone.”
Curtis went still as a harsh sob rocked your body and you sagged against him, lost to your grief and overwhelm.
Your unbearable pain.
And then he did something you never would have expected.
He touched you gently, innocently, his big hand warming the place between your shoulder blades, holding you against him in a not quite embrace before he was carefully stroking your back.
“You’re not alone,” he said.
When you tipped your face up to look at him, confusion furrowing your brows, he smiled, just a little.
And it wasn’t a mean curl of his lips or a wicked, devious grin but a soft, genuine smile making its debut.
His hand lifted to cup your cheek, his smile dimming when you flinched at the sudden movement, but he persisted, his thumb swiping away the tears lingering along your skin as he watched you stare at him with a look of stunned wariness.
After a moment, you did something that you had never done before–you willingly leaned into Curtis’ touch.
And when he ducked close and kissed you, somehow urgent and gentle all at once as he drank from your lips, you whined, not from fear or defeat or pain, but from desperation.
You were so desperate for a real, gentle touch. For genuine comfort and softness.
For kindness and care.
“I’ve got you, sweet girl,” Curtis murmured before he gathered you in his arms and guided you toward the bed.
His movements were slow and careful as he undressed you, his lips trailing along every inch of your skin that he could reach.
You came alive beneath his soft touch, blossoming like a flower at every reverent kiss and lingering caress, at every murmur of praise.
And for the first time ever, your breathless, trembling chant of, “Please, please, please!” wasn’t to ward him off but to beg him for more.
You opened your legs to Curtis willingly, your cunt weeping a river of arousal as he shed his own clothing and moved closer.
There was a foreign kind of darkness shadowing his gaze as he settled over you. One big hand warmed your belly, his thumb strumming along your clit and making you whimper and writhe as he slowly, carefully fed you each and every inch of his hard, aching cock.
It was the first time he split you open without a trace of roughness to be found. Instead, settling his weight on top of you as each of his hands found each of your own and twined your fingers together.
When your breath caught at the soft, intimate touch, your gaze wide, disbelieving, and glittering with tears, Curtis shot you that soft smile again before dipping close for a kiss.
He worked your mouth with his lips and tongue until you were squirming beneath him, worked up and impatient–desperate for what came next.
And he gave it to you.
Curtis’ gaze was avid and fixed on your face as he began to move inside of you, starting with soft, shallow rocks of his hips before he was giving you more–what you were begging for–and yet still somehow keeping it gentle as he fucked you.
He didn’t stop until he rocked your body with three orgasms and you were all dazed and floaty and sweetly wrecked in a way he had never seen before but was already craving again.
Groaning, Curtis finally chased his own release with deep, frantic ruts of his hips, flooding your insides with a throaty grunt of satisfaction before sinking on top of you and panting for breath.
Once he came down from his high and found you dozing beneath him, your face lax in sleep and so painfully beautiful despite the dark shadows beneath your eyes, Curtis just watched you for a beat.
He gently retrieved one of his hands from yours and smoothed it over your head before cupping your cheek, his soft cock twitching inside of you as you sighed your content in your sleep and nuzzled into his touch.
Gazing at you for a moment longer, Curtis dipped close and gently kissed you, whispering against your lips, “Happy birthday.”
And then he settled down in bed and carefully arranged you over him, tugging the covers up to keep you warm as he held you close and listened to your steady breathing as you peacefully slept atop his chest for the first time ever.
Soooo obviously this was written a while ago, because there have actually been some softer moments with canon PP!Curtis, but I wanted to preserve the core of this original piece and the underlying thread of angst and devastation. @krirebr would be so proud lolll 😘
—
Please take a moment to comment or reblog. It means a lot to hear from my readers after sharing a story that I put so much love into. Serial liking without engagement is the quickest way to kill my writing motivation, so please don’t do that. It only takes a moment to show a little love. Thank you 🙏🏻
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Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. I also do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI platforms. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️
A/N: Okay so here is the previous poll results! I really hope you guys like it 🤭. As always, a special shout out to @krirebr since she was able to kind of talk me down when I got all in my head about this. Please come screech at me, good bad, ugly, I don’t care! As always, comments, reblogs and asks are always welcome!
Something glittering from the shadows caught your eye first. The scent that followed had you gulping down air like a man starved. It flowed through your body electrifying every nerve and raising all your baser instincts. It smelled like summer back home, fresh, and hot. You shook your head, thankful that you had suppressants to help keep you calm in situations like these. Although, you’d never before encountered an Alpha with a scent quite so strong. You sincerely hoped your suppressants were enough to signal yourself as a beta to him. You couldn’t risk running into an Alpha in rut, it was far too dangerous for an Omega like you.
You scurried to keep up with the Beta who was guiding you through the city. Your only protection. She seemed nice enough you guessed, but she was clearly a strict woman, with little care for the throng of Alphas ahead. You felt a pull behind you, like someone was trying to discreetly get your attention. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the same glitter from the alley. You were sure they were blue eyes, tracking you through the crowded street, but it was hard to tell because his pupils were blown wide.
Without thinking, you clutched onto the sleeve of your Beta tour guide, the scent of a hot summer day taking over all of your senses. It was too much, you needed to get out of here. Her eyebrow quirked, and she sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling. She didn't seem the type to put up with Alphas, especially a rogue Alpha in rut.
She set a brisk pace as she guided the group of omegas through the streets. To outsiders it would probably seem that you were rushing to your next viewpoint, you could tell from some of the groups baffled looks that they hadn't even picked up on the Alpha's overpowering scent. You had a moment where it struck you as odd, but as the Beta rushed you all into a private museum, the thought left you as quickly as it came.
"Everyone," your Beta tour guide pulled your group to a room, "I have called for a van to pick us up and take us back to the hotel. Unfortunately, there is an Alpha in rut roaming the streets, and we cannot allow for the tour to continue until they are subdued, for your own safety."
Quiet murmurs spread through the group. Some were terrified having never met an Alpha in rut before. As your gaze travelled across the faces around you, you saw a wide range of emotions. Some Omegas were scared, some indifferent, the ones that concerned you the most were the Omegas who seemed intrigued.
You shook your head, anxiously twisting your fingers, praying for the car to arrive sooner rather than later. Something about that scent had affected you like no other Alpha had before. The thought sent a thrill up your spine, which you quickly tamped down. This Alpha is in rut.
An unmated Alpha in rut was dangerous. Not just to Omegas, but Betas too. Normally procedure dictated that any unmated Alphas had to quarantine 5 days before their expected rut and were mandated to stay that way until at least 5 days after the symptoms had passed. It was the same for Omegas, although the danger was to themselves, not others.
Of course, there were always Alphas who defied these rules. Usually though they stuck to the underground clubs. Passed their rut by fucking every Omega they came across there. Not perfect, but certainly better than wandering the streets.
The energy in the little room your tour guide had pulled you all into was buzzing with anxiety. Even the Omegas that had initially seemed intrigued by the rogue Alpha were starting to get anxious.
A tap to the door startled all of you, one Omega burst into tears. You rolled your eyes, almost against your own will. Yes, you were scared, yes, you were worried, but you didn't need to carry on about it. When the Beta opened the door, another Beta stood at the other side, seemingly there to take you all back to your hotel.
You were all ushered through a side door of the building, and into a waiting van. Wind whipped your face as you were the last into the van, and once again the scent of heat, warmth, home hit you causing your head to spin. Although you all seemed to be safe, there was a lingering tension on the car ride back.
Once safely back in your hotel room, you scrambled for your toiletries bag. Desperately searching for the suppressants that would hide your identity. You dumped the medication onto the little desk counting the pills, freezing when you realized there were too many. You had forgotten your dose. With all the excitement of travelling and the eagerness to see the tour, you had forgotten to take your does this morning.
That Alpha had definitely picked up your scent as Omega.
You groaned, no wonder you had been so affected by his scent. You went into the bathroom and showered, hoping the water would wash away the uncomfortable feeling the day had left you with.
***
The shower had done wonders for your mood. You called down for room service, knowing that your hotel was safe, but still needing the comfort of your own scent for now. You picked at the blankets you had gathered on the bed, wrinkling your nose at the "unscented" detergent. A scent would be better than none at all.
Glee filled you at the tap on your door, eager for your food. You had probably ordered too much, but knew you were going to be snacking for ages on your treats. When you opened the door a hot summer day smacked you in the face again, causing you to stumble backwards. It was enough, the Alpha pushed the cart of food and himself into your room.
The door slammed behind him, your instincts fighting inside you. Your rational brain told you to hit, run, fight, hide. Anything. Your Omega instincts begged for you to drop to your knees for this Alpha to show him your submission. As it was, you stood, neither running nor submitting.
You took in the man before you, he was tall with broad shoulders that filled the tiny entranceway of your hotel room. His dirty blonde hair was swept back from his face, you wouldn't call it long, but it wasn't short either. The glitter of his eyes stopped your inspection. You knew those eyes, that build, but your mind couldn't place from where.
You gripped the cart between you, the only barrier keeping the powerful Alpha away from you. No sounds passed between you, all you could hear was the ringing in your ears and your own laboured breathing. You saw his hands clench in a grip on the cart, as though it was happening in slow motion he yanked the cart to your left and it crashed against the wall.
Now there was nothing between the two of you.
Your eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. The Alpha's eyes watched you, his movements slow as he raised his hands in surrender. In response to your fear, your scent had turned sour and his nose wrinkled. The scent of his rut slapped you in the face. The hot summer day was still there, but under it was pure need, desire, and something else.
"P-Please." You wished your voice would come out stronger, but you were practically drowning in his scent at this point. "Please don't hurt me." You knew begging probably wasn't going to get you the result you wanted, but it was all the words you could string together now.
The Alpha grunted and took a step towards you, "I don't want to hurt you, I promise." His voice was wrecked. Like he was just as affected by your scent as you were by his. Home. The thought pulsed through you so quickly you weren't sure where it came from. "I-I was in a safe house, miles away. This morning I woke up, and your scent." He scrubbed a hand down his face, bringing your attention there. "I was fine, until your scent hit me. I had to find you."
Well that was clear as mud.
"What are you talking about?" Your voice was shrill, your breathing fast, "Listen Mr. I know that you're in rut, and you probably need, um, help with that or something. But I can't, I'm not your mate, okay?" You trembled as you slowly started to back away from the Alpha.
Like he knew your every move before you made it, he followed until you were cornered, right at the edge of your bed. There was still distance between the two of you, but not nearly as much as before. Up close you could see the thin line of blue that rimmed his blown out pupils. Underneath his beard you could make out a face that struck once again as familiar.
"Wait!" You put your hand up and it landed on his chest, which now that you were touching you could tell was heaving with either lust or restraint. "I know you."
The Alpha's eyes narrowed, and he closed the distance between you both, clearly over talking things out. He tried to cage you in between him and the bed, but you had speed on your side, and you launched yourself out of his grasp. When you turned back to look at him there was a twinkle in his eyes, and a look of admiration on his face. Alpha is pleased. Your inner Omega was singing at his silent praise.
"Please," He murmured, barely above a whisper, but it felt so loud in the quiet of your room. He groaned and cupped his hands over his face quickly, before standing up straight looking very on mission. The look on his face now sealed what you had suspected.
Because you knew this man. This was the former Captain America. He had been on the run with some of the former Avengers for at least a year now. News articles would pop up now and then of them helping people, saving the day, but never being caught.
You took a cautious step towards him, "Just, help me understand." Your own voice had calmed, your brain realizing that this man was likely less of a threat than any other Alpha in rut. "Why are you here, how did you find me?" The why me you left unsaid, but the sadness in his eyes told you, you didn't need to say it out loud, he understood.
"I don't know." His hands were reaching out to you, urging you closer. "I was sleeping, and then it hit me. Not my rut," He huffed as you opened your mouth to interrupt. "Your scent. It was everywhere. And the worst part was, no one else could smell it. Romanoff thought I had finally lost it." He chuckled softly as he spoke of his friends.
"What do you mean 'my scent'?" You could feel yourself starting to lose control, you could hear the desperation in your own voice, feel it in your core.
He took another step towards you, his hands placed gently on your arms. There was a current of want, need, desire, running between you both now. "I didn't know it was you, until I saw you. I followed your scent. It was like it was calling me," He huffed out a laugh, like it was the silliest thing in the world, "It felt like something was calling me home."
Home.
The thought pulsed through you again, in time with his words. The thought that had hit you from the very first inkling of his scent. Without another thought you threw yourself at him. Your arms snaking around his neck as your lips met his. His hands gripped your thighs and lifted until you were wrapping your legs around his waist. He stood holding you while you wrapped yourself around him as tightly as you could.
Home. Home. Home.
He soon took control of this kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he walked you both back to the bed, to the makeshift nest you had made. His nose wrinkled at the scent, or lack thereof in the blankets. Instead he buried his face in your neck, scenting along the gland there. A trill left your throat as he lightly nipped. His hands smoothed up your torso as he cradled you into the bed.
You could feel the fog starting to settle over your brain, your inner Omega chanting with glee in your hindbrain at having been chosen by this Alpha. You started pulling at his clothes, hungry for him to devour you. It wasn't long before he was standing before you, a Greek God among men. Your eyes greedily travelled along his body, taking in the broad shoulders and strong arms. The muscles flexing in his chest in abdomen, until finally reaching his pelvis.
There standing proud and at attention, dripping a little bit of precum was his cock. You could feel saliva gather in your mouth, wanting nothing more than to take him then and there. Your intention must have shown on your face because he let out a rumble that sounded more like a growl than a chuckle that had your eyes darting back up to his face.
"Come here Omega," He held his hand out to you, his face almost pleading.
When you stood before him, there was a reverence as he started to strip you of your clothes. Care was taken to remove each article softly, as if he was afraid any sudden movements on his part would spook you.
Stripped bare before him, you felt suddenly shy. Moving your arms to cover what parts of yourself you could. Your traitorous thoughts swirling, telling you, you weren't good enough for this Alpha. Your head bowed in shame, a whine escaping your throat. He pulled you close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispered words finally made it through your cloud of shame, "…so beautiful. Look at you. My perfect Omega. Mine." The last word growled, and possessive.
He dipped his head and claimed your lips once again, this time the kiss was feral. Like the last of his restraint had snapped, and now, you knew, you were just along for the ride. "Present for me Omega." His tone held no room for argument, and you scrambled to get yourself into position, your head bowed down into the bed, back arched, ass on display.
You purred as he ran a hand from the mating gland on your neck down your spine, your hips swaying in invitation. With two strong hands he gripped your hips, settling them in place. And then you felt him lick a stripe from your front to your back. The sound you made was guttural and feral. He hummed in approval and then dove in like a man starved.
He tongued at your weeping hole briefly before moving down to your clit. You howled as he sucked hard. One of his hands moved to gently probe at your entrance, testing to see how wet you were. The rumble in his chest told you he could feel exactly how excited you were for him. Two fingers easily slipped in pumping in rhythm with his sucks to your clit. You heard a voice chanting, over and over again and it took you a moment to realize, that was you.
"Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Please. More." He groaned behind you, adding another finger and switching from sucking to licks, until your voice and breaths reached a fever pitch. With a drawn out "Alphaaaaaaa" you came. Gushing your slick all over his face. He moved at the last moment to slurp up as much as he could. His fingers still pumping in you as you came down from your orgasm.
You felt him smirk, before placing a soft kiss on your clit, and climbing himself up on the bed. He traced the lines of your pussy, sweeping the head of his cock, teasing you. "Please Alpha. Need you. Need more." You whimpered as you begged him.
"If that's what my Omega wants, that's what my Omega gets." The last word was punctuated by him sheathing himself to the hilt. How he could still form words at this point was beyond you. He let out a groan, draping his body over your still bent form. He nosed at your mating gland again, a whisper that you couldn't quite make out before he started pumping his hips. The motions were slow, dragging the head of his cock over that place inside you that made your mouth drop open and groan loudly.
Home.
His arms wrapped around your front, one grabbing a breast to play with a nipple, the other sneaking down to thrum at your clit. You twisted your head back, whining when you couldn't reach his mouth. But he knew, and quickly swallowed your sounds as his hips snapped to meet yours in that agonizingly slow pace.
It soon became too much for you to take, and had you grinding your hips back to meet his thrusts. Your body begging for more, in a way your mind couldn't seem to form the words for. He growled into your ear, before pulling his hands back, causing you to whine and your hips to stutter. He shushed you before placing his ands once again on your hips and pulling out almost completely and then slamming home. You wailed as he set a vicious pace. Realizing too late, that the former Captain America had been holding back.
Your mind went white as another orgasm ripped through you, causing your inner muscles to flutter, gripping him tightly. It was only a few more thrusts before you felt his knot start to swell lodging him inside you as he came. His teeth sank into your bonding gland, sealing your bond. The sensations causing you to orgasm again, although much less strongly than the previous ones.
When your eyes fluttered open you realized you must have passed out, because you were cuddled into his chest. Face buried in his neck. You tried to speak, but your voice was hoarse. You didn't remember being that loud. Your eyes flickered up to his face.
Home. Home. Home.
You saw guilt, and sadness crease his eyes as his fingers traced the mark on your neck. "I'm sorry, Omega."
You shook your head. Not in the least bit sorry of what had happened. "Why?" You garbled out. He reached across you to the night stand, propping you up to drink some water, which you gratefully accepted. For some reason that one word, held so much weight.
Why are you sorry? Why me? Why this?
He scrubbed a hand down his face, and it was only now you saw the strain there. He looked bone tired. Not like the last time you had seen him.
"I didn't mean for this to happen. Not like this." He sat up fully, the sheet falling to his waist. You licked your lips at the sight, but quickly averted your gaze. Not now.
"If you couldn't tell, I'm fully onboard with what happened. And it happening again. If you want." You twisted your hands in your lap. Thinking of how to ask what you wanted to know, now that the lust had passed. "But I need to know. How? Why?"
His fingers gently cupped your chin, angling your face to look him in his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure. It was a feeling as much as it was your scent. Like I couldn't control it. I had to find you. It felt like something awful was going to happen if I didn't." You searched his eyes desperately, seeing nothing but truth there. "But, I didn't mean to mate you. I shouldn't have done that. It was like…" He trailed off, his face showing so much guilt, but worse you could feel it through your bond.
It was your turn to cup his face, "Alpha, mine." Your fingers scratching through his beard. "Are you feeling guilty because you didn't want to mate me? Or are you feeling guilty because you didn't want to mate me yet?"
Steve hummed and pulled you into a kiss, letting pure want flow through your bond. "I didn't want to mate you like that, without talking. Without use knowing for sure we were on the same page." He gripped your chin tightly. "You know who I am, what kind of trouble I'm in right now. It's not safe for you." He chuckled softly, at odds with his words as if he just realized something. "God, I didn't even ask your name."
You flushed as more memories of the last night swam through your mind. Carefully, you climbed onto his lap straddling his hips, and softly murmured your name to him, adding, "But I like it when you call me Omega."
He growled low in his throat at your admission. "My Omega." His hips making an aborted thrust so you could feel how much he wanted you.
You giggled softly, "Why don't we take care of that," Your eyes drifting down to his hips, "And then you can take me home."
His lips twisted into an amused grin. "I don't have a home right now."
Your hand drifted to lay right over his heart, "This is home."
***
Please ya’ll come screech and tell me what you think! I’m also kind of in love with them. Should we keep them?
I was thinking about Curtis' Prized Possession Reader getting a little drunk.
On one hand, I imagine she wouldn't want to drink because it's even scarier to lose any bit of control and be less vigilant. Perhaps even Curtis makes sure she doesn't drink, he wants her fully responsive at all times.
But on the other hand, what if she's just the slightest bit tipsy. Maybe he made her accompany him and gave her a drink or two himself. Now she's more clingy, relaxed, cute giggle at something random. Maybe even blurts out she's horny.
Uninhibited
Pairing: Curtis Everett x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,863
Summary: It only takes a couple of drinks and a surprise encounter with a sweet, furry baby to have you letting your guard down for the first time in months.
Warnings: Mob AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Mob elements. Captivity. Soft!Dark!Curtis (shocking, I know lol). Mentions of alcohol consumption and gossipy, judgemental assholes. Unprotected sex. Allusions to oral sex (f receiving).
A/N: Eva, I absolutely love this ask, but for the life of me, I cannot imagine this Reader giggly and letting loose with Curtis, let alone blurting she’s horny lol. However, I did have a thot… 👀 and I hope you like what I came up with.
Please note: this does NOT directly follow the last installment, Tit for Tat, timeline wise. I would say it likely comes after Chase the Nightmares away but before Placate.
Prized Possession Masterlist
It had been so long since you had a drink, that after only one cocktail and a flute of champagne, you were feeling the effects of—and also regretting—being too nervous to eat all day.
But you couldn’t help it, because here you were at some fancy party hosted by one of Curtis’ mob associates. It was the first time he had taken you out with him publicly, and just as you had feared, as soon as you had stepped foot in the room at his side—anchored close by his thick, possessive arm around your waist—the staring and whispering had begun.
Everyone knew who you were. What you were.
Curtis’ prize.
You felt your insides wilt the further Curtis had led you into the ballroom, and when he had surprisingly offered you a drink, encouraging you to, “Loosen up, pretty prize,” you had accepted.
Now, an hour or so later, as you slipped from the fancy bathroom a few halls over from the party, you felt a little lightheaded but also so relieved to have a moment away from it all.
You were taking a few slow, steady breaths to try to reinforce your armor, to feel more in control, when you heard it.
A tiny, quiet mew.
Perking up, you tentatively moved further down the hall, further away from the party and deeper into the opulent manor belonging to the party host, who was a complete stranger to you and probably just as terrible as Curtis.
A few more yards and half a dozen quiet meows later, you stepped into what looked like a child’s room. Just across the floor, clambering out of a plush cat bed, was a tiny white kitten who only meowed louder when it saw you.
“Oh my gosh!” You breathed, a genuine smile splitting your lips as you rushed across the large room and sank to your knees without care.
Why should you care if the expensive, fancy gown Curtis had picked out for you was now pooling on the floor? Or that the sweet little ball of excitement hopping toward you would likely get fur all over it?
You couldn’t even remember the last time you had seen a kitten, let alone played with one. Probably not since you were a child, and in this moment, you felt as innocent and carefree as one as you cooed at the furry baby and lifted it between your hands to get a better look at it.
“Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” You gushed as the kitten continued to wiggle and chirp some more under your full attention.
Giggling, you cradled it against your chest, giving it gentle scritches atop its head. When it started to purr–much louder than you expected from such a tiny creature–you outright laughed for the first time in you couldn’t remember how long.
Soon, you were giggling and cooing up a storm–completely uninhibited in a way you hadn’t been in so, so long–as the kitten squirmed from your hold and began to jump and pounce along the folds of your dress that you used as a makeshift toy to entertain it.
And that’s how Curtis found you minutes later.
Sat on the floor, your gown spread around you as you giggled and played with the kitten, completely oblivious to his presence and the way he watched you for a few long moments, mesmerized.
Because in all the months that you had been with him, Curtis had never heard you giggle or laugh. He had never seen you smile so freely and without reserve. He had never heard you talk in a silly baby voice or see you be so gentle with such a vulnerable creature.
It was like you had escaped the dark shadows of his world–the mob underbelly–and returned to your rightful place, one that allowed your light to shine–and that light, it was such a rare commodity in Curtis’ world.
It allowed him to witness a new side to you, which only made him want to possess you more ardently than ever before. It made Curtis want to greedily claim you and covet that pure light of yours all for himself, like a dragon hoarding a precious treasure.
Without realizing it, he took a step toward you, his weight making the floor creak and alerting you to his presence.
Your head snapped up, and as soon as you saw him, your smile dropped. The joy that had lit your face was instantly snuffed out as you protectively cradled the kitten against your chest and stared at Curtis in fear.
“Please, I’m sorry—“ you started, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.
“Relax, pretty prize.” Curtis kept his steps slow and even as he moved closer. “Seems like you snuck away and found the best company at this thing.”
You were stunned–and wary–as Curtis crouched beside you and reached out his big hand. It was a protective instinct that you didn’t have time to think better of or suppress, recoiling from him and taking the kitten with you.
But Curtis just seemed amused as he watched you, his eyes gleaming as his lips twitched and he murmured, “You think I’d hurt it?”
“Can you blame me?” you replied without thinking, your own eyes widening as you cursed having touched even a sip of alcohol if this was the result–being dangerously bold with someone who could truly make you pay for it.
Smirking, Curtis held your gaze as he once again reached out, clocking the way you stiffened but didn’t recoil this time as he used one long, lone finger to gently pet along the kitten’s head.
You deflated with a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as the kitten began another round of loud purrs, and it seemed as if you thankfully hadn’t stoked Curtis’ ire by hiding away in here and then practically sassing him due to your less than sober state.
All too soon, Curtis was lifting the sleeping kitten from your hold, grinning as you pouted at him but didn’t object as he moved to place the kitten in its bed. Your lips tilted into an almost smile as you watched the kitten turn in circles a few times before eventually curling up and falling into a peaceful, sound sleep.
You were so busy watching the kitten, you didn’t realize Curtis was just as avidly watching you. Not until he stroked your cheek just as softly as he had petted the kitten just moments ago, and you turned to him to find his darker-than-normal gaze intently fixed on you.
“Sometimes I forget how sweet you are,” he husked, his knuckles gently drawing down the length of your throat and making you shiver.
It was instant the way your body perked up in awareness—throbbing with a shameful interest and need—as Curtis continued to gently touch you. Until you were squirming and avoiding his gaze, wishing that he didn’t have such a primal effect on you always.
After everything.
“You look very pretty tonight,” he murmured, gently stroking beneath your chin before tilting your shy gaze up to meet his.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
Your eyes started to fall away again, but Curtis’ touch shifted, until he was gently gripping the front of your neck and holding your head aloft.
Your gasp was sharp and startled—scared—as you met his gaze. “Please,” you trembled. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Oh, I don’t want to hurt you,” Curtis hummed. “I want to make you feel good.”
You were startled for an entirely different reason now as Curtis swiftly rose to his feet, gripping your hand to take you along with him. A moment later, you were down the hall in a spare bedroom, pressed up against the closed door as Curtis kissed you so hungrily, there was no other word for it than ravished.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the reprieve from prying eyes and gossip that had greeted you at the start of the night–or maybe it was just your traitorous body finally luring your frazzled mind to the dark side–but when Curtis’ hand began to descend your body, when it worked its way beneath the long folds of your skirt, then between your thighs, you welcomed his sinful touch.
You begged for it.
“Please,” you gasped, your head falling back as Curtis’ lips blazed a hot trail of kisses down your throat.
“You’ve got me aching, I’m so hard for you,” Curtis gristled against your neck, giving a nip sharp enough to make you whine in need before his tongue soothed over your skin.
You were so wet by the time Curtis sank into you, that he bottomed out in one slow, deep thrust that had you both moaning as his forehead dropped to yours. You panted and squirmed as your pussy fluttered and clamped around him, earning another throaty groan from Curtis before he started to move inside of you.
He kept his promise and didn’t hurt you, but your coupling was quick and rough–desperatre. Your bodies rutted against one another, your moans smothered against each other's lips until you were cumming with a sharp cry of delight and clinging to Curtis’ broad shoulders like he was the only thing anchoring you to this moment.
“Fuck,” he grunted, burying himself as deep inside your cunt as he could before giving shallow ruts as he came and pumped you full of his seed.
You shivered as the warmth of his pleasure bloomed inside of you, making your pussy flutter all over again as you sank back against the door, completely boneless and dazed to boot.
And–as Curtis had promised–feeling good.
So good that you didn’t want this moment to end, and when Curtis went to pull away, you clung to him, giving sleepy blinks and a discontent pout that made his lips twitch and his eyes dance at you.
“Come on, pretty prize, this party’s a bust, and I’d much rather get you home where I can eat your sweet, needy cunt at my leisure.”
Laughing as he felt you clench in response to his words, Curtis finally pulled away. He took a moment to put himself back together again, then another moment to do the same for you.
When he glanced up, Curtis found you watching him with a furrow between your brow. Whether it was due to his rare, gentle caretaking, or your own contentment in this moment, he wasn’t sure, but regardless, he caught your chin with his fingers and leaned in to kiss you slowly.
You made a soft, sweet sound of surprise against his lips that had Curtis smirking as he pulled away, and when you swayed after him–mindlessly chasing his retreat–a deep rumble of satisfaction vibrated his chest as he touched his lips to your forehead and hummed, “You’re so fucking sweet.”
Then, much like you had started the evening, you ended it nearly the same way–with Curtis’ thick arm curled around your waist. Only this time, he was leading you from the room–and the party altogether–shouldering most of your weight as you struggled to walk on your jelly-like legs, uncaring of the numerous gazes and judgemental whispers that accompanied your departure.
He’s such a mindfuck 😩 But also: I’m so here for it.
NEXT PART
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Welcome to the Thrombey Crime Family. If you’re gonna stay along for the ride, you may want to get to know the boys and see how they’re all connected in the end.
The Boss
Ransom Drysdale may not have been the oldest of the family, but was the one who sought power. The mastermind of the Thrombey Family, he wields his power from behind closed doors. Leaving the difficult tasks to his right hand and top hitman.
The Hitman
The eldest brother, Lloyd never really cared for the responsibility of the family business. He much preferred making the marks squeal, and bleeding them dry. Sometimes though, Ransom wished he wasn’t quite so bold, or quite so devastating in his attacks.
The Right Hand
Brought in as a teen, Ari Levinson worked his way up to earn the trust of even the eldest members of the family. Now, all orders from Ransom go through him. Ari’s gotten so confident in his role, he’ll make the tough calls on his own, even if they’ll get him in trouble.
The Secret Agent
Steve Rogers and his partner wind up on assignment to infiltrate the Thrombey family. All the research in the world can’t prepare them for what they find when they finally earn the family’s, and specifically Lloyd’s trust.
The Enforcer
When the tasks seem below Lloyd’s pay grade, the family sends in Curtis Everett. No one’s really sure how exactly he came to the family, but they do know that he prefers to work alone. Curtis will occasionally help Lloyd, if he has to, but does not choose to work with him. His hits are all his own.
The Family Lawyer
Thankfully for Andy, he doesn’t have to deal with the rest of the family too much. Ransom tends to handle all of their legal issues directly. And Andy? There’s a reason he only works for the Thrombey Family - there hasn’t been a charge that’s stuck since he started working for them.
The Gambler
Frank Adler just needed a loan to get him through to the end of the month. But of course he borrowed his money from the wrong people. Now, he’s gotta find a way to pay them back, or risk putting his entire family in danger.
pairing: mafia enforcer!steve rogers x female reader x mafia boss!bucky barnes
summary: you've spent weeks conning the boss of the brooklyn mafia, but when you're steps away from stealing the Blue Diamond of Alqualondë for your employer, you're caught by the boss's most trusted enforcer. then, things take a turn for the worse when you realize you weren't conning the mob boss—he was luring you into his trap.
warnings: mature content, eventual 18+ content (minors dni!!!), sexual tension (resolved in part 2), almost kiss, teasing touches, possessive touches, attempted sexual coercion, enemies to (eventual) lovers, bit of a cliffhanger ending
word count: 3.0k
a/n: i had an idea for @thezombieprostitute's Let's Plan A Heist challenge while i was working on my chef Jack Abbot fic but i didn't want to start it until i finished that fic. then by the time i got around to writing it, i realized the challenge was almost over. so! i've split what was supposed to be a one-shot into two parts, and this is the first part. part 1 is mostly setup/sexual tension while the next part will be mostly smut, and i'm going to work on it next, so it should be posted soon-ish! thank you Zombie for hosting such a fun challenge, and i hope everyone enjoys reading about our tricksy little thief!!
prompts used: mansion, party/celebration, you were hired, long con, solo, rival
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
In the life of a thief—the life you’d chosen, mostly willingly—it was important that nothing rattled you. You had to keep your cool in any situation you found yourself in, or else you could end up dead. It was a skill you’d honed over the years and it meant you could be held at gunpoint and not even break a sweat.
But those words, said by that voice, sent a shiver of unease down your spine like nothing you’d ever felt before. A guilty grimace contorted your face before you could stop it, and you could only thank the universe that the man the voice belonged to was behind you, so he had no way of seeing it.
Taking a breath and reaching for the calmness that seemed to exist in endless reserves on all your other jobs, you steeled yourself. You schooled your features into an expression that was much more innocent before you turned around and faced the source of that voice.
Steve Rogers cut an intimidating figure, clad in a tailored suit that exquisitely highlighted his tall stature and broad shoulders. His narrow waist and thick, muscular thighs looked like a million bucks in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, giving you a tantalizing tease of all that golden skin he had under his clothes…
You nipped that thought right in the bud, focusing your gaze on Steve’s face—his stupidly handsome face—which was contorted into a cold, furious scowl. You couldn’t help but notice that even that expression looked good on him, and you had to force yourself to concentrate on the problem at hand.
Because the frown on Steve’s face wasn’t the one he typically wore in your presence. No, this particularly charming glower was because he’d discovered you in the secret, locked room in his boss’s Brooklyn mansion. The one that housed the mafia boss’s private collection of art, jewels, and other priceless valuables in a cramped maze that looked like an elegant version of a museum’s storage room.
It was a room that you absolutely, one hundred percent, shouldn’t be in.
But not everything in that room was priceless. The Blue Diamond of Alqualondë would fetch your employer a cool $5.8 million on the black market. All you had to do was retrieve it, steal it away from the mansion and put it in your employer’s hands. Then you’d get the $1 million you were promised…and your debts would be forgiven. Finally.
Giving your head a subtle, impatient shake, you reminded yourself that you didn’t have time to ruminate on the mess you were in. It didn’t matter that you’d been forced to get close enough to a mafia boss to be invited to one of the exclusive parties at his mansion—or that you’d enjoyed your time with the Brooklyn mob boss more than you should’ved.
You had to focus on the problem in front of you. Namely the fiercely protective and extremely dangerous mafia enforcer standing between you and your freedom.
“Would you believe,” you began, sauntering toward Steve and putting a little extra sway in your hips. The gown you wore hugged your curves lovingly, a slit up the side offering teasing views of your bare thigh. It was meant to be a distraction of a dress and it was doing its job. “That I got lost while looking for the bathroom?”
A little zip of satisfaction shot straight down your spine when Steve’s cold, blue eyes dipped briefly to your body, raking quickly over your chest, your hips, your legs, like he couldn’t help himself. But the excitement you felt at getting the man’s attention fizzled when his gaze returned to your face, harder than before.
But you wouldn’t—couldn’t—be deterred. It was imperative that you distract Steve and get him out of the room so you could sneak back later and steal the Blue Diamond of Alqualondë from his boss’s collection. How exactly you’d do that when the enforcer who already didn’t trust you, would be on higher alert? That was a problem for later you.
All you could do was deal with one problem at a time. So you moved closer to the big, intimdating man and slunk into his personal space, placing a hand over the breast pocket of his jacket while you fluttered your lashes at him.
“This place is just so big and confusing,” you murmured demurely, trying to play the role of damsel in distress while you surreptitiously searched his jacket for something, anything to help you get free.
But aside from a couple guns in shoulder holsters, all you found were the hard muscles Steve hid beneath his tailored suit. You forced yourself to ignore the twist of attraction in your belly, the melting warmth that sang in your blood, and urged you to do something stupid, something too fucking reckless, even for you.
It became easier when Steve’s lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist and he stopped your wandering hand in its tracks. He gave you a tight warning squeeze before letting his hands fall and stuffing them in his pockets, making a show of how little of a threat he thought you posed.
“From anyone else, I might believe that excuse,” Steve rumbled, staring down his nose at you. His eyes were like two chips of ice, sending even more cold anxiety down your spine, and it was only your years of practice that kept you from wilting under his angry stare. “But not from you, sweetheart.”
It disturbed you how much you liked hearing Steve call you by that pet name, even if his tone was dripping with disdain as he said it. In your head, you reached for the calm that typically came so easily when you were working a job, but you found it was rapidly depleting.
There was something about Steve Rogers that left you feeling stripped bare and defenseless, and it took much more effort than usual to gather your charm and clever tactics around you like protective armor. Giving an indignant, offended huff of a laugh, you swatted Steve’s chest like you were old friends.
“You’re so mean to me, Stevie,” you whined in your sweetest, most ingratiating voice, batting your eyes at the scowling enforcer. “I’m just a little lost,” you said, pouting up at him with your most pathetic expression.
At the same time, you pressed closer, your tits brushing against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure rioting in your belly, your nipples tightening beneath the thin, slinky fabric of your dress. It took everything in you to hold back a shiver as desire ran rampant in your body, making you feel hot and achy.
“Cut the shit, sweetheart,” Steve snapped, his anger bleeding over into his tone in a way that made his voice hard and unrelenting. It got you thinking about other things of his that would feel hard and unrelenting and could help soothe the ache between your thighs…
“This room is kept locked, so try again,” Steve growled, leaning in until he was looming above you, using that stupid heigh to his advantage.
However, the movement also pressed you closer to him, your tits brushing his chest and making your breath hitch as your nipples rubbed against him again. Steve’s eyes dropped to your tits, which were heaving in the low neckline of your dress, in danger of spilling out.
A sound, like a choked off, hungry growl, rumbled in Steve’s chest, and the air in the room crackled with unresolved tension. It went straight to your head, that sound, and you could feel your brain melting a little at how much pure, undiluted lust was etched into Steve’s handsome face.
For a moment, between one breath and the next, you thought Steve Rogers might kiss you. You were already sagging in relief at the thought, your body sinking deeper into him, your hands pressed flat against the lapels of his jacket, ready to grab him and haul him even closer.
You knew the kiss would be good. It would be devastating for the both of you, and your body lit up with the anticipation… but the kiss never came.
With a violent jerk of his head, Steve wrenched his gaze from your mouth, where he’d been staring at your lips like they were the answer to all his life’s problems, and he looked past your shoulder, deep into the maze of the room. He swallowed thickly, put some space between your bodies and finally looked back at you.
When he did, his expression was guarded, and all the lust that had filled his face had been buried deep within the span of a few seconds. All that remained was the distrust that had haunted his blue eyes since you first appeared in his boss’s life.
“Now, answer me, sweetheart,” Steve rumbled, his voice going infinitesimally softer on the pet name before he continued on. “What were you doing in here?”
The sudden shift in Steve’s mood was effective in waking you up from the lust spell you’d fallen into, and you realized you had one last card to play in an effort to get out of your disastrous situation. It was a long shot—Steve was so loyal to his boss, that it was unlikely he’d betray him for anything—but you had to try.
So you pressed your soft body more deliberately against the hard, unyielding bulk of Steve’s form, taking care to keep your wits about you as you danced your fingers along the line of his jacket. You let your fingertips trace the buttons of his white dress shirt, down to his abdomen, feeling the muscles of his stomach spasm at your touch.
Steve’s face remained a stony, unforgiving mask as you teased your nails along the hem of his pants, toying with the leather of his belt. You sucked in a breath for courage, emboldened by the bulge brushing against your hip and looked at the handsome mafia enforcer from under your lashes.
“What’ll it take to make you leave and forget you ever saw me in here?” you asked silkily, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you could murmur in Steve’s ear, your breath ghosting tantalizingly against his bearded jaw. “I promise to make it worth your while, sir.”
You were pressed so close to Steve that you felt his body go rigid at the honorific, his breath rushing out of him like you’d knocked the air out of his lungs. A pleased smirk teased the corners of your lips and you took his reaction as a sign to press your advantage, brushing your hand lower until your fingertips teased along the hard ridge of his cock in his pants.
But before you could cup his bulge through his clothes, Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling it none too gently away from his lap. He yanked so hard on your arm that it put you off balance, and if it wasn’t for Steve’s other hand settling on your hip, his palm a possessive, heated touch, you might’ve tumbled back onto your ass.
“You’re delusional if you thought that would work on me, sweetheart,” Steve growled, the barest hint of teasing in the pet name as it rolled off his tongue.
A shiver skated down your spine, one you weren’t able to temper, and you felt more than saw Steve’s smirk. Using his grip on your wrist and your hip, he drew you closer, and—damn him—your stomach swooped when you felt the hard length of his cock press against your belly.
It was all you could do to breathe normally and not pant over the hot mafia enforcer like a dog in heat. But that had its downsides, too, because Steve smelled good. Expensive cologne mixed with something dangerous, like gunpowder, and god help you, but you thought you could get high off his scent.
You were so close to huffing Steve’s scent like a desperate hussy when his hand around your wrist squeezed, making you blink the lust from your gaze and look up at him. A smirk teased around the edges of his mouth and he looked so fucking devastatingly handsome, you wanted to kick him—or kiss him.
“Tell me what you were doing in here,” Steve rumbled, looming over you once more in a clear attempt to intimidate you into answering. “And who you’re working for. Be honest, be honest—if you’re honest, we might go easy on you.”
At the reference to your employer, your spine went ramrod straight, and panic flooded your mind. You were so distracted by the thought of who’d hired you that you didn’t notice the way Steve’s eyes flicked briefly over your shoulder. Nor did you notice his use of “we” when it was only him in the room.
As far as you were aware at least.
In the life of a thief, these were the kinds of rookie mistakes that could get you caught, could get you killed. Unfortunately for you, you were too scared of your employer and too off-balance by the closeness of the mafia enforcer, to even realize you’d made such amateur errors.
You thought you were still in control of the situation, so you huffed an indignant sound and tossed your head, giving the appearance that you were offended by Steve’s words and the implied accusation.
Tipping your head back, you managed to look down your nose at the taller man as you scrambled for another way out of the room so you could return later for the diamond you’d been hired to steal. It took only a moment for your clever mind to come up with something, even if it wasn’t your best work.
“Your boss told me to meet him here,” you said, latching onto the first excuse you could think of that you hadn’t tried already. It didn’t matter, in your mind, that it probably wouldn’t work. It had to work because you couldn’t disappoint your employer. It wasn’t an option. “He said he wanted to show me something, but I think he just wanted to get me alone.”
It felt stiff and fake, even to you, as you winked at Steve, but using his boss’s attraction to you was your last-ditch effort to get the enforcer to let you go. You just needed his grip to ease up long enough for him to check in with his boss so that you could use the distraction to escape.
However, you hadn’t accounted for the universe—and the mafia boss and his most trusted enforcer—to be working so expertly against you.
That time, you did notice when Steve’s gaze moved from your face to something over your shoulder, something deeper in the maze of the mansion’s secret room. Anxiety flooded your body and no matter how much you tried to remain calm, you could feel yourself beginning to panic.
“Is that right?” Steve asked, and despite all your instincts telling you that he wasn’t speaking to you, you opened your mouth to answer him. But he went on before you could. “Did you ask her to meet you here—did you give her your key?”
Your stomach was sinking down to your knees, which were in danger of wobbling as panic consumed your chest, making your heart hammer against your ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Your mouth was dry, and for once in your life, you were too stunned to speak.
You could only watch in horror as Steve’s gaze—cold, blue and knowing—returned to your face, even as he continued speaking to someone else. You had a sneaking suspicion that you already knew who that someone else would turn out to be.
“Or did she pilfer it and sneak in here like the dirty little thief that she is?”
“That depends,” came a voice from behind you—one that was warm and filled with humor, even as it held a dangerous edge. One that you recognized.
It was the voice that belonged to the man of the house, the one you’d spent the past weeks cozying up to so you could steal from him. The one you’d secretly begun to like, along with his loyal enforcer, though that was a secret you planned to take to your grave. Unfortunately, it seemed tha might happen sooner rather than later.
“Does it count as stealing if I let her lift it off me so I could see what she’d do with it?”
Bucky Barnes sauntered into you line of view, shooting you a devastatingly charming grin that made you feel like your panties wanted to melt right off your body. You’d worked hard to ignore your attraction to the Brooklyn mafia boss, but in that moment, you couldn’t deny the way your body responded to him.
With his broad shoulders, bright eyes and towering stature, Bucky was one of the handsomest men you’d ever met. He was hot enough to give Steve a run for his money, and he had the charisma to wield those good looks like a dangerous weapon. You thought you’d been impervious to his hotness and his charms, but in that moment, you realized you weren’t.
Still, it wasn’t until Bucky slid in behind you, curving his big hands possessively around your waist, and caging you in between him and Steve that you realized just how much trouble you were in. Because the whole time you’d been thinking you were conning the head of the Brooklyn mafia and his right-hand man, they had clearly been three steps ahead of you.
And now you were caught in their trap—literally. You were caught between their big, strong bodies, with nowhere to go and no tricks left up your sleeve. All you had left was to see what they’d do, and hope you could escape with your life, if not with the score that could save you from your employer’s wrath.
The life of a thief wasn’t for the weak, and it was a good thing you were made of stronger stuff than most. You just had to keep your head in the game and not get distracted by Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, and maybe, just maybe, you could still win your freedom.
But too bad for you, that might be easier said than done…
thank you for reading, part 2 is coming soon!! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! ♡♡♡
Plot Summary : It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man of dwindling fortune, will do whatever it takes to replenish his coffers. Even if that means seeking a suitable marriage match for his sister against her wishes. After arranging for you to spend the season with affluent Mr Castle of Netherton Park, your world is turned upside down. Not by Mr Castle as your brother intended, but by his roguish adopted brother Captain Russo.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing of note. All chapters will contain some mention of arranged marriages, age gap, and the gender imbalances/misogyny of the Regency Era. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 3.4k
A/N : this is a little shorter than usual but I wanted to post something because it's bee a really long time. Work and this heatwave have made it really difficult to get anything done lately.
Chapter List : Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Chapter Four
"This one," Miss Page said, holding up yet another ribbon to contrast the colour with your hair. "This one is perfect."
You'd been distracted all morning — but how could you not be after what had happened last night?
Your mind was torn between the memory of his face, the way he'd kissed you, and the strange pleasure that he'd brought you to, and the way you'd felt when he'd left you all alone.
You were more aware than ever of the sensitive flesh between your thighs. Captain Russo had sparked something inside of you and, even now, hours later, the embers were still burning. That heat was a stark contrast to the empty, icy feeling in your chest.
He'd kissed you, unravelled the part of you that dared to hope for love and romance, and then he'd just left you. The Captain had walked away, leaving you confused and feeling such acute abandonment that it had become a physical ache in your heart. It was enough to make you wonder if he was every bit the scoundrel that your brother and Mr Castle had painted him as.
"She's right, that's a fine colour," Mr Castle stated.
You were on his arm while Miss Page walked freely and unchaperoned as, you had gathered, was the American way. (Oh to be so free.) Miss Page had done most of the talking from the carriage ride to the streets of the city as you shopped. She didn't seem to notice or care that you never had much to say in response.
Mr Castle was putting up a valiant effort to not look bored out of his wits, and tried to involve himself in conversation, though you could tell he thought picking out ribbons was a silly and trivial matter. Still, he made an effort and you wondered if this was supposed to mark the beginning of your arranged courtship.
You didn't ask, of course. It would be mortifying to be told yes just as much as it would if he said no.
"You're right," you said, trying to keep your thoughts confined to the moment. "It's a very fine colour, though... I have nothing to match it.
It was the most you'd said in at least five minutes and Miss Page looked ready to deflate and give up entirely.
"Then perhaps Miss Page and I can help you find something to match?" Mr Castle offered.
Whether it was for your benefit or Miss Page's didn't really matter.
"I'm not sure my brother —"
"I'm certain Ethan would want his sister looking her best, especially for tomorrow night's ball," Miss Page said.
"Tomorrow night —"
"Karen," Mr Castle said in a warning tone, "you know he hasn't agreed to that."
"He hasn't agreed to that yet," Miss Page said before turning her full attention back to you.
After a little more persuasion, you decided to purchase the ribbon and Miss Page promised she wouldn't rest until you had the perfect dress to go with it. Mr Castle was less enthusiastic to be led between dress fitters but it quickly became apparent that there was nothing he would deny Miss Page when she asked nicely enough.
Uncomfortable thoughts from the night before started to resurface as you listened to them talk and laugh with each other. Despite the fact that you were on Mr Castle's arm, it was the American who held his attention, and no amount of feigned interest in your choice of ribbons or dresses would change that.
At least, you supposed, if you did marry Mr Castle, you would only have to put up with feeling like his second choice once a year — or however many times Miss Page chose to visit.
Once you had found your dress, it was Miss Page's turn. And, as it happened, she was far more discerning than you when it came to things like style, colour and cut.
Of course, Mr Castle was more than happy to wait while she tried on dress after dress, and you felt politely obliged not to point out that you hadn't wanted to spend your day in the city stuck indoors.
The shopkeeper offered you chairs while you waited and, for a time, you were content to sit and wait. But the minutes ticked by, and the world outside kept moving. Morning turned to noon and you found yourself looking for a reason to move. There was only so long you could sit and act demure, smiling and nodding every time Mr Castle deigned to make some passing comment to you, no doubt due to his own boredom.
Finally, you struck upon an idea, though it took you a few minutes to act on it.
You stood slowly and glanced out the shop window.
"I noticed there's a bakery across the way," you said as casually as you could. "I was thinking I might go and get a sweet bun while Miss Page finishes her fitting."
Though you were a full grown woman, you found yourself bracing for his refusal, demanding that you sit and stay. Instead he raised an eyebrow and followed your gaze towards the window. For a second you thought he might offer to escort you, then he shrugged.
"Don't wander too far," Mr Castle warned. "Your brother wouldn't be happy if I lost you."
You couldn't tell if he was joking but you still offered up a polite laugh and wasted no time in heading for the door.
Outside, you breathed a sigh of relief, glad to finally —
Any and all thought stopped dead the second you saw him standing across the street, looking at you, watching you. Captain Russo. His expression softened and he offered what you might think was a shy smile if you didn't know better. Then, with a nod of his head, he directed you towards a little side street before vanishing down it.
You considered for a moment, remembering the ache he'd left you with last night. Perhaps it would be best if you avoided him, only... how would he know that you were avoiding him if you didn't at least tell him as much? It seemed only right and proper to let him know and, hopefully, put an end to whatever madness had possessed the pair of you in the library.
Through the window, you could see that Mr Castle's attention was firmly with Miss Page, so you started across the street, giving only a brief cautious glance behind before slipping into the side street.
His hand was on your arm before you could so much as gasp, pulling you away from the hustle and bustle of the main street and away from prying eyes. You found yourself turned to face him, and you couldn't tell if the pounding in your chest was for him or because of the precarious situation he'd put you in.
If anyone was to catch the two of you together like this...
"I wanted to see you," he said, fingers still lingering on your arm.
"Your brother is just across the street." It wasn't what you wanted to say, but it seemed prudent to remind him.
"I know." His head hung forward. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you on his arm, paraded around as if he won you."
"He's just being a gentleman."
A bitter laugh tore from the Captain. "If he was being a gentleman he wouldn't have let you out of his sight. His attention would be entirely on you, instead he chose to stay with Karen."
"I don't need an escort to get sweet buns," you remarked indignantly, choosing to ignore the comment about Miss Page.
"No, because you're a free spirit like me," he said, smiling.
He cupped your cheek and, despite wanting nothing more than to lean into his touch, you shrank back. The Captain frowned and tried again. This time you took a step away.
"Have I done something to upset you? If I've offended you, you must know that it wasn't my intention," he said as he countered your step backwards with a step of his own.
Your cheeks burned with shame, unable to put into words what you had hoped he already understood. While you weren't entirely sure what had happened last night, you knew how it had felt when he'd left you alone and trembling with a bitter pleasure.
"I'm not a toy for your amusement, Captain," you said.
You took a step to the left, trying to move around him. He mirrored your movement and blocked your path. Then you stepped right and, still, he refused to let you pass.
"Is that what you think you are to me? A toy? An amusement?"
You shied away as he reached for you again, but his fingers still found your cheek and tenderly brushed a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. He held you in place with just his gaze, and your heart stuttered as you got lost in his dark eyes.
"You had your fun, then you left me," you confessed in a voice so small it hardly sounded like your own. "What happened last night could destroy my reputation — everything you've done so far could destroy my reputation — and you don't even seem to care."
He was silent for a beat, his throat working as he swallowed down the truth.
"I left to protect you.' He leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours, words little more than a whisper.
"Protect me from what?" You asked, lowering your voice to match his as if the moment was too fragile for raised voices.
"From me."
It was infuriating how little the answer gave you. It felt like a baited trap, an attempt to use your curiosity to snare you.
"If you wish to protect me from your... urges, then perhaps you should keep your distance, Captain." you said, finally remembering why you'd followed him in the first place. "It seems all we're capable of doing is causing each other distress. So, I suggest we stay away from each other from now on."
You had wanted to sound more resolute, more certain, but how could you when he was looking at you like his world began and ended with you?
You barely knew him. Even if your afternoon wandering the grounds of Netherton was the longest you'd ever spent alone in the company of an eligible man, there were still so many things you didn't know, things that you wanted to know about him.
"I would if I could," he said, cupping your cheek again. This time you didn't pull away. "Compared to my brother, I have nothing to offer you — no fortune, no comfortable future, and your brother would oppose me courting you — but, still, I find myself drawn to you.
He leaned closer and you braced yourself for a kiss that never came. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.
"I wish I could explain it," he said softly, "I wish there was a way to make you understand..."
"Understand, what?"
"The connection I feel to you, how you feel like a splash of colour in an otherwise grey world..."
The words made your heart flutter and your own eyes close. It was like something out of one of the romantic poems you so loved, and you wished that you could just accept it without reservation. But there were too many questions, too many doubts in your mind.
"We hardly know each other," you said.
"Courtships have started from less."
He was right, but you weren't courting the Captain. You couldn't. Not when you were all but promised to Mr Castle.
"He doesn't see you," the Captain continued. "He only sees your brother's burden, he —"
"Burden?"
Is that how he saw you? Was that how they all saw you? Ethan's burdensome sister, so close to becoming a spinster, so unwanted.
You tried to shove him away, but he barely moved. When you slammed your hands against his chest a second time, he caught you by the wrists and pinned your arms against the wall on either side of your head. You twisted in his grasp, trying to escape but not once considering screaming. You wanted to get away from him, but you didn't want to get him into any kind of trouble.
More than anything you wanted to get away from him because you hoped your walking away would pain him the way his words had pained you.
"Stop," he said. "Please — I didn't mean it like that."
"Then what did you mean, Captain? How could I possibly be expected to take your words any other way?" You tried to force a measured tone, but there was no hiding the hurt. "Do you think I don't know how my brother sees me? How men like you see me? An unmarried woman of my age?"
"No, that's not what I meant," he said in a voice as close to pleading as he could muster.
"Do you think this is the life I wanted for myself? To be foisted onto my brother's oldest friend and —"
His lips slanted over yours, silencing you. Like every other kiss you'd shared, it was sudden enough to stun you, and once it started — once you felt the desperation behind it — you found it impossible to remember why you'd been angry with him in the first place.
He kept hold of your wrists, but all the fight drained from you in an instant.
As much as you hated it, you wanted to be wanted by him. You wanted to pretend that the things he'd told you could be real, if only for this snatched moment.
"You are not the burden," he muttered against your lips. "He is. He always has been."
You weren't given time to ask what Captain Russo meant. His lips crashed into yours again and you were left feeling like you might float away. The he was clearly Ethan, but what burdens did your brother have?
It was hard to care when the Captain was stealing the very breath from your lungs, kissing you like he may never get to again. And... there was a part of you that felt vindicated for all the thoughts you'd had about your brother and the way he lived. Finally, you'd found someone who saw Ethan as you did.
But time was not on your side and the Captain knew it.
The kiss broke and his head dropped to your shoulder.
"Captain..."
"William," he corrected.
"I... I can't," you said softly. "They'll be missing me."
"I'll miss you."
Your heart lurched at the rawness in his tone. It made no sense how he could unravel you with so few words, but it was almost enough to make you want to linger a little longer. But even he seemed to realise how that was a bad idea.
He released your wrists but you didn't put your hands down, instead you tenderly held his face and stared into his eyes, trying to make sense of him.
"I don't understand you," you said.
"I know, but I hope that one day you will." He gave you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before taking a step back. "You should go. I'll see you tonight at dinner."
He took another step, and left you aching to reach for him and steal just one more moment, but you'd tarried long enough.
Though, as it happened, by the time you'd slipped from the side street and into the bakery to purchase a sweet bun, and then returned to the dress makers, you were barely noticed. And, for the next half hour, you sat in silence beside Mr Castle, staring longingly out of the window, hoping for one little glimpse of the Captain.
But, of course, you didn't.
Instead you had to make do with the promise that you'd see him at dinner. Giddy sort of thrill filled you as the hours ticked by, wanting to be near him again.
But he wasn't at dinner.
You arrived in the dining room first and took a seat, patiently waiting for everyone else. Mr Castle appeared first, then Miss Page, and finally Ethan. They sat and food was served.
"Is the Captain not dining with us tonight?" You dared to ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"My brother has business to attend to," Mr Castle answered between mouthfuls.
"Business?" Remarked Ethan with a snort. "Is that what he's calling his women these days?"
Mr Castle shot him a warning look and you did your best to ignore the sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.
"What? We all know the man has no morals — you should know that better than anyone, Frank," Ethan continues.
"There are ladies present," Mr Castle.
"You always think the worst of him," Miss Page said.
"Because he's only ever given us reason to think the worst."
"You're not still sore about him breaking your nose, are you?" Mr Castle asked. "It was over fifteen years ago, Ethan."
"You never did tell me why he broke your nose," Miss Page added.
You remembered Ethan coming home from school with a black eye and a healed nose at the end of term. You remembered your mother fussing and your father writing a letter to the school, demanding the boy responsible faced the harshest punishment. You also remembered hearing that the other boy was expelled, though it wasn't clear whether it had been over that incident.
You were silent as the conversation continued on; Ethan didn't offer up much of an explanation, just that he had called the Captain out for being a scoundrel and it had ended in a fight. Whenever they spoke of the Captain, it didn't sound like the man you knew — but, then, you had to concede that you really didn't know him. Not like they did.
After dinner, you excused yourself but, on the way to your room, you felt a strange pull towards the library, the faintest spark of hope still burning within you. If you could see him, you could ask him about what Ethan had revealed and try to find the truth of the matter.
Unfortunately, you found the library empty.
You lingered for almost an hour before giving up hope that he would magically appear and silence all the questions in your head. But, as you went to leave the library, you heard voices in the corridor.
"You've been at Netherton with him before," Miss Page said.
You peered through a crack in the doorway and caught sight of her red hair.
"That was without my sister." Ethan.
"What difference does that make?"
"I don't want him to ruin things for her — for me," your brother said. "He has form for seducing young women, especially young women who've been promised to someone else. And it wouldn't be the first time he's bedded a woman to hurt Frank."
"Is that what happened fifteen years ago? Is that why they don't speak?"
If Ethan gave an answer, you didn't hear it.
"I won't let him ruin my sister just to hurt me and Frank," Ethan said after a lengthy silence. "Frank says he's no doubt squandered his inheritance, and I don't want him seducing my sister for her money. Lord knows she’s silly enough to fall for it, what with all her notions of romance. She’d be an easy mark for a man like Russo..."
Their voices faded the further they got from the library and, while a part of you wanted to dismiss everything said as just Ethan being Ethan. He'd never had a kind word to say about anyone, always ready to judge and point out their worst traits while remaining oblivious to his own. But there was more going on than what you'd been able to discover, some deeper mystery that seemed to exist between Ethan, Mr Castle and the Captain.
If you were going to continue to find yourself in scandalous situations with the man, you were going to have to find out just how bad the truth was.
That is, if you even ever saw him again...
A/N : I'm toying with the idea of maybe doing shorter chapters like this for a while if it means I can start posting regularly again -- it's honestly driving my crazy not having a schedule at the moment but between work, the dog, and the fact that it hit 32 degrees c here this week, I'm on the struggle bus atm. Next week is stock take at work too, which is going to be an ordeal but, hopefully after that my hours will go back to normal. Anyway, hope you like this chapter and that if you're experiencing a heatwave where you are that you remember to stay hydrated!
New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one). Let me know if you want to be tagged.
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18
First of all, Siri, thanks for the ask. NOT thanks for making me think of it and ruining my brain (and making my 🕳️ ache for attention) !!
Biker Steve is very controlled, as we know. Not in a sense of delaying gratification and taking things really slowly. No, no. He takes what he wants and doesn't prioritise others over his gain. But he isn't impatient in it, or impulsive. Which is scary on its own.
When he's needy, you will know it anyway, without him going all beastly caveman. His gaze lingers on you with intensity that warns you about all the explicit awful things he'd inevitably do to you.
(under the cut because this Steve filthy and it got long-ish 🤭)
Hardening off *
*refers to acclimatising plants that used to grow in a protective environment to harsher conditions
dark biker Steve Rogers x female reader
warnings: Dark Steve. Explicit. Forced relationship. Oral (m receiving). Penetration. Anal. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Smidge of humiliation and degradation. Semi-public sex.
word count: 1.4k
Cornflower Masterlist
Main Masterlist
You sit there in the clubhouse, sipping alcohol-free beer and doing notes for work, while Steve talks with some of his bikers. It’s become almost a routine now to come to the Dark Avengers’ pub after work on Fridays. Other days appear more normal, more domestic, but only on the veneer because your new home isn’t the one you lived in for the past years. Your new home is full of Steve’s presence and your blooming attempts to grow your own roots there.
You refuse to call it acceptance, because you hate how it all came to be and you're still afraid, but you’re adjusting. Learning yourself anew, as well as learning Steve.
By now you know his tells enough to recognize the shift in him that day. Something’s under his skin, though it doesn’t appear to be anger. It takes you a few minutes of glancing his way from the corner of your eye and focusing on the way his thumb presses into your thigh, to realize he’s horny.
Though that expression seems so bland and unfitting for the intensity of Steve’s arousal.
He’s not handsy, he doesn’t make innuendos or flirts you up. He strategizes, building his need to a point where he can spend hours unleashing it.
Steve's attention is masterfully divided. He runs the conversation with Sam so smoothly, yet keeps looking at you in a way that betrays he's planning every single position he will take you in.
His hand rests on your thigh. A possessive brand. He doesn't need to move it under your skirt to give you a sign that in a few minutes you're going to be wrecked and screaming. By now, your body reacts to his touch eagerly.
You’d prefer to say you were conditioned, but the way he made you fall apart that first time he took you is proof enough of how naturally responsive you are to his dark, filthy tricks.
Steve simply finishes his discussion, then places a hand on top of yours - stopping you mid writing a sentence in your notepad. He stands up and you know you should too. It's his graciousness that he allows you to go upstairs to the spare guest bedroom and fuck without people watching.
However, if you take too long to comply, he will do it right there on the table.
Not a quick, brutal thing either. Oh no, he'd deliberately make you feel so good, stretch it out, make you beg for all the filthy pleasure in front of all of the present Dark Avengers.
So it's best to follow his lead and go upstairs. He might suddenly pick you up and carry you, simply out of the fact he really wants to feel you in his arms, against his body.
You never admit it out loud, but a zap of thrill shoots through you whenever he does that. Your husband showed you appreciation and worship in his own ways, but was never able to carry or manhandle you so easily.
Not rushing things like a wild animal doesn't mean Steve fucks you gently and tenderly. His commands grow harsher, urging you to take off your clothes before he rips them off.
He sits on the edge of the bed and makes you kneel before him. His hand is heavy and ruthless in the way he holds your head down as you try to swallow as much of his fat cock as possible; drooling and choking and tearing up. And hating how your core ignites with pleasure from the dirty act.
Steve watches it all in the mirrored wardrobe that's opposite of the bed. He notices the occasional rocking of your hips as you fight the growing need to be filled.
He rips you off of him and yanks you up to straddle his thighs. Makes you slide down on his cock in one stinging stretch. He urges you to ride him, giving you a spank every time he wants you to move faster.
Mouth on your breasts, sucking and biting until you're clenching so desperately. One hand in your hair, either pulling your head back when he wants to leave bite marks on your neck, or forcing you to look at him and hold his hungry gaze as you take it all like an obedient fucktoy.
He makes you look at him when you shatter with a soft scream. Fucks harder up into you, making you make those little whimpering noises.
"That's it, Cornflower. Such a beautiful fucktoy coming all over my cock."
Then the hand that was spanking and groping your ass slides down, gathers the sticky evidence of your orgasm on his fingers. The pressure of those wet fingers against your rim makes you tense, but you know better than to stop rolling your hips and meeting his hard thrusts.
He finishes inside you right after you come for the second time, with two of his fingers deep in your ass. But Steve's not done. His need runs too deep, too hot.
He'll spread you out on the bed and kiss and maul all over your body, savoring the way you moan and desperately clutch at your surroundings - the bed sheets, your own hair, him. When you cry out futile protests as his mouth descends on your cunt and he sees the mess leaking out of your fluttering hole, Steve's dick stands to full attention again.
He gets off the bed for a moment. Satisfied conqueror that’s still not fully sated. He towers over you and watches your trembling body with dark pride. And more hunger.
Purposely, he walks to the door and opens it a fraction.
Then he's back to you, rolling you onto your side so that you're facing the door. He slides behind you, pulls one of your legs up and over his thigh. Then slowly - a mercy from him, truly - starts pushing his cock into your ass.
“Nnhhh-” you tense, toes curling as the pressure grows nearly unbearable.
"Be a good fucktoy." Steve commands in a low, breathy voice, curling his other hand around your neck.
When he's halfway in and you feel like he might split you open, the hand that was around your neck drifts lower. He starts playing with your clit, making your whole body shudder.
"That's it, Cornflower." He coos, petting your cunt. "You're going to take it all. And my sweet pussy is going to prove to me how much you like having your ass full of cock."
Your gaze flicks toward the ajar door, but your focus blurs. There's too much overwhelming sensation. Which Steve increases with every slide of his fingers, every inch forced into your tight hole, every word he rasps.
"Come on it like a good cockslut and I'll fill you up." His rhythm quickens. Faster. Harder. "Then I'll take you home and fuck my pussy some more. Have you bloated with my seed until morning."
A floorboard creaks somewhere. You can't even be sure that anyone's walking this way. But the rush of fear and potential humiliation pairs with the onslaught of sensations.
You clench down hard, creaming all over Steve's fingers. Your cry is pitched high, choked with breathlessness from the forceful thrusts brutally stretching your ass as he mercilessly chases his own peak.
Your pussy tightens even harder when you feel the warm spurts filling you.
"My perfect cumdump." Steve's dirty words are spoken so softly, and paired with a gentle kiss to your shoulder.
A contrast to the way he just fucked you.
He wraps both arms around you, holding you tight and intimately. While his cock is still throbbing in your ass and your used holes are still on display for anyone who might appear in the hallway.
No amount of makeup will cover the marks on your neck and chest, and Steve won't allow you to wear a scarf or turtleneck. He wants everyone to know you're his. Most of all, loves that you are reminded of his ownership with every glance in the mirror, every curious look from others, every movement that flares with the imprint of his cock inside you.
Sometimes you wonder, if you’re teaching yourself to enjoy his savage ways, or if Steve shows you it was always a part of you and you were meant to be a flower that thrives in a crack of hard concrete.
Re: this post, which of your CE!babes is the first to come to mind for mounting you? 😏
It's Bolotnik!Curtis, and I don't think you'll mind, but he is going to do so much more than merely mount you because it's been so long since we last encountered him...
Darkness Always Finds You Either Way
Characters/Pairings: Bolotnik!Curtis x curvy!Reader
Word Count: 4k
Summary: You did not go with him when he wanted you to before, and so what will a third encounter mean for your future with this creature from the lake who has staked his claim on you?
Notes: Curtis was going to make you wait, but I didn't know we were going to wait THIS long until the muse finally decided to drag him up from the lake again...
First Encounter | Second Encounter
↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
You hardly realized you were wandering to the lake until you were already halfway to the shore, cloak clutched around your body and the air tinged with the bite of approaching autumn. It had been increasingly difficult for you to sleep, and something inside you had instead dragged you down the empty streets of your sleeping village, past the silent church, through the dew-soggy grass to the edge of all things. The lake was a mirror, black and rippling, and you could see your own reflection: hair wild, eyes wide and red-rimmed.
You went barefoot, toes digging in the mud, and thought that the strange itch developing under your skin was maybe not so strange, not in the grand scheme of things.
Curtis said your body would change. Maybe you had outgrown your skin and your home, until the only thing left to do was to come here and wait to be collected. The urge was stronger than ever, and you could no longer resist, only yield.
The waterline was lower than you remembered, the silt and reeds exposed in the flickering starlight. You waded in ankle-deep, sinking, sensing the soft sucking of the mud as it accepted your feet. The air was loud with crickets, the occasional splash of fish, the far-off call of some night bird. The moon was gone, but the stars provided enough light to see the expanse of the lake, sprawling out imposingly.
And yet the lapping of the water around your ankles soothed in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks. You’ve felt dry in your skin, and these last days even your veins feel like hollowed-out reeds beneath the surface.
It had been eighty-three days since Curtis climbed through your window, the second night he filled you with his seed. It had been one hundred and twenty-three days since the night he claimed your body and pumped you with pleasure and with his spend all night, marked you in ways no mother’s salve could erase, left you shivering on the shore, his seed rooted in your womb.
You kept going, wading past the reeds and the brambles, the hem of your nightdress dragging through the shallows, soaking up moonless water and pond scum.
Even now, you told yourself you’re out here only to see the stars, but you knew you were lying.
The changes in your body had become more pronounced and less deniable. Soon you would no longer be able to hide the swell of your belly, blossoming with the taut dome of new life. The skin had grown soft but oddly cold, even through the high summer.
Your eyes started to reflect light in a way that makes children in the street shy away from your gaze. Your sister, ever helpful, insisted you were simply tired, that the sleepless nights were just exhaustion from your job at the bakery, the endless cycles of flour and heat, the constant lifting and kneading. Your sister believed what she said, but you sensed her growing unease—the way she looked at your belly with furtive suspicion, the way she muttered prayers when she thought you could not hear.
Curtis has not returned. The absence of him was a wound that festered.
You thought, in the aftermath, that Curtis would return often, if not every night. You thought he would haunt your window, your dreams, your shadows. But he was true to his word: he gave you space. There were nights you sat up in the window seat, knuckles white on the wood, waiting to see the gleam of blue scales or the shimmer of his eyes, and nothing appeared but the unbroken dark. Sometimes you convinced yourself this was a mercy, a kindness, and that you hadn’t wanted any of it to begin with. Other nights, you pressed your face to the glass and called his name softly into the silence the night, and the longer he hasn’t come, the more your spirit has withered.
Surely he hadn’t abandoned you.
He had seemed so insistent.
And yet… he was not here, and you were, and inside you the child of him grew steadily, unerringly, as night follows the tides. The thought left you hollow, as if your body had already begun to be carved away by the thing inside it, making you less yourself with each passing week. You felt it now, even as you shivered in the shallows; a dull, aquatic ache that stretched through your hips and lower belly, encompassing all that you were meant to be, and all that you no longer were.
There was only the wind and the water, and you, marooned between them. No answers. Only a hunger, like a current, dragging you under.
You stood, shivering in your thin shift, despite the cloak around your shoulders, and waited.
Waited for—
You didn’t know.
But after some time, you trekked back to the shore. Your body seemed to know where it wanted you to go, and you are not surprised to find yourself back near the trees where it all began, where he both ravished and worshipped your body.
You crouched into the hollow of trees and planted yourself at the base of the trunk. It was humid and close under the branches, the sweet, sharp tang of decaying leaves pressed into the earth, and beneath that, the mineral wet of the lake. You pulled your knees to your chest and listened for footsteps, for anything, but in the night the whole world was quieted to only the whisper of leaves, your own uneven breathing, and the persistent lap of water against the shore.
Though you were well-hidden, there was a break in the trees that gave you a view of the lake. You watched as the surface quivered, reflecting back the warped face of the stars, and you wondered if you were supposed to do something more. If there was a ritual to summon him, or if all of this—the ache, the hunger, the uncertainty—was part of the summoning. You dropped your face into your knees and breathed deeply, searching for any scent of him, any hint that Curtis still lingered on the edges of this world. All you tasted was old wood and lake rot and something soft and almost metallic—a scent that felt like memory.
If you closed your eyes, you could remember the weight of his hands on your skin, the dark press of his body against yours, the way his voice was both threat and comfort. You wanted to hate him for what he did, for what he made of you, but you couldn’t. Not when your own body, traitorous and tender, mourned him even as it craved his presence.
The ache spiked, sharper this time, radiating from the place where your child grew. It was not pain, exactly. More an insistence, like a call you were unable to answer. You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. But as the night wore on, your body loosened, drooped, gave into sleep—one of the things it had long been craving.
Something woke you in the deep hours, something more than cold or discomfort. You peeled yourself off the ground, stiff and numb, leaned against the tree trunk, and then instantly sensed the difference in the air. It was charged, vibrating with static, and the reeds at the water’s edge were shivering where no wind stirred them. Your heart stammered, your mouth tasted copper, and for a moment you were sure you were only dreaming.
Curtis was there, just outside the ring of trees that sheltered you. He stood perfectly motionless at the water’s edge, as if he’d been carved from the dark itself, a shadow with a suggestion of scales and the faintest luminescence tracing the lines of his body. His eyes shone out of his face, impossibly blue, fixed on you with a ferocity so wild and so focused it made you flinch. You had not heard him arrive. You wondered how long he’d been standing there, waiting for you to open your eyes.
You found that you are not afraid, not in the way you expected. It was something else, a tension like a drawn bow. His tail was flicking behind him, the tip slicing dangerous curves through the humid air.
He moved toward you in an unhurried, even elegant way, each step deliberate, his weight barely imprinting the mud despite his hulking form, so much larger than a human man’s. He didn’t speak; you realized suddenly that he never had to. He only needed to look at you, and your body would answer.
He took your face in his hands—not soft, not gentle, but not cruel either, and tilted your head so he could look into your eyes. You saw the hunger there, a desperation that matched your own, but also a grief, and something nearly like relief.
He didn’t ask permission. He didn’t even speak. His lips crashed into yours, sharp and cold and tasting of brine. It was nothing like human kisses, but you leaned in, lips parting, swallowing the taste of him, that deep, mineral tang, the way his teeth scraped across your lower lip. When he broke off, you gasped for air, surprised at how much of your hunger was for oxygen and how much for something else entirely. His tail snapped up behind you, coiling around your back and waist, pinning you to him so you could not slip away even if you wanted to.
You shivered, but it wasn’t from cold. A sound escaped you, a wet, hungry sob, and your arms went around his shoulders before you could think better of it. You expected roughness; you found yourself enveloped, cradled against a chest so wide and firm that you could hardly breathe for the way it trapped the air in your lungs. He held you like a cherished and broken thing, and you felt the hardness of his excitement against your hip, the way it pressed through both your clothes and his. The scent of him, seawater and something sweetly corrupt, filled your nose, and you worried, briefly, that you would drown on land.
His hands went to your shoulders, then your arms, then he pulled the damp cloak from your body and let it drop to the forest floor. He was more impatient with your shift, ripping the collar so the rest of the garment could fall away and pool at your feet. The shock of air on your bare skin made you gasp, but you didn’t try to cover yourself. Curtis bent down and sniffed you, pressing his face into the hollow where your neck and shoulder met.
He inhaled deeply, pulled a low, vibrating groan from somewhere in the cage of his chest, and just like that, you were entirely, murderously desperate for him, for the feeling of his mouth and the slick pressure of his tongue, for the pain of his teeth and the searing cold of his hands sliding up your thighs. His breath fogged against your skin, cool and alive, and just hearing the ragged need in it was enough to make your knees threaten mutiny.
“Curtis,” you managed, syllables fractured and spilling out before you could stop them.
He growled, the sound vibrating through your chest, resonant and urgent. His claws grazed your shoulders as he shrugged the cloak away from you, letting it slide to the ground where it slumped darkly into the leaf mold. His hands found your waist, spanning it with impossible ease, and then his palms moved, mapping the curvature of your ribs, your breasts, then down, down, his fingers raking over your belly. He lingered on your midsection, ran his knuckles with surprising care over the curve of it, fascination and triumph wrestling for dominance in his gaze.
His hands encircled your belly and held there, as though placing a spell, or as though he expected the child to respond to his pulse. Maybe it did. You thought you felt it, some answering quiver, and you tried not to flinch. You shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want him, but when his mouth found your collarbone you choked on nothing, a breathless exhale that turned into a moan.
His mouth was cold against your skin but his tongue wet and shockingly warm, as if the heat of desire tunneled underneath his icy exterior, a core of molten need blazing inside him. Teeth pressed, not quite biting, then scraped a line along your clavicle, leaving a trail of sensation so bright it bordered on pain. Your hands went, almost stupidly, to his biceps: smooth, firm, scaled over in patches, reminding you he belonged to the lake.
Your stomach ached, low and deep, with a hunger you refused to call by name. You wanted this, you wanted him, you wanted him to take you apart, fill you until your bones dissolved, until the self you’d been before dissolved in the brine of his touch.
His lips found your throat and sucked until you thought you were being hollowed out, all feeling compressed to the bright ring where his mouth met your skin. His hands splayed at your ass, cupping and kneading, moving you against him until you both groaned in time, a shared, strangled note that seemed to ring out over the water.
He barely bothered to undress himself, simply tore away the layers of sodden cloth as if they were nothing, exposing his torso and hips until the heat of him seared into you. His cock, thick and strange and ridged with whorls of blue-black skin, already pulsed against your thigh. He backed you up against the trunk of the tree and pinned you there, one massive arm braced next to your head, and dipped his head to your chest.
His tongue rasped along the curve of your breast, a wet, hungry line, and when his teeth found your nipple, you cried out, the sound trapped between your tongue and his. He bit, just hard enough to mark, then soothed it with that impossible tongue, flicking and sucking until your head spun and a firecracking ache tethered itself from breast to cunt.
His hand was already between your legs before you could breathe out his name, and his fingers--long, ridged, preternaturally strong--slid through the wetness between your thighs. He pressed in, tasted how ready you were, and when he drew his hand away, he brought two glistening fingers to his mouth and licked them clean with a noise so greedy, so hungry, it made your core tighten almost painfully.
“The desperate smell of your want was intoxicating enough, little one,” he growled, “but your taste?”
His claws sank into the flesh of your hips and he yanked you off your feet, spinning you so fast your head swam. You landed, hands and knees in the leaf mulch, your bare ass exposed to the night and to him, your thighs smeared with your own want. His grip found your shoulder and pressed you down, arching your back, planting you so firmly into the earth you could feel the cool dampness rising through your palms and shins. You didn’t fight when he spread your legs wider. If anything, you shuddered in relief, because this, this was what you needed.
His breath was a frigid fog against your skin, and then the blunt, slick head of his cock was nudging at your entrance, so wide it seemed impossible to take him. You whimpered against the moss, torn between terror and a nearly painful anticipation. Though he had your entrance amply slick with your own arousal, the size of him was still enough to make you gasp when he breached you, slow and relentless. You felt yourself stretch, felt the ache of it, but he did not yield.
He slid in further, relentless, unyielding, and your entire body shuddered around the breach. You scrambled for purchase, fingers digging furrows in the loam, and then his hand was at the base of your spine, stroking small, slow circles in a semblance of comfort.
“Look at you,” he growled, voice low in your ear as he bottomed out with a shudder that rocked you forward. “You were made for me. You fit like a custom-forged scabbard, little one. I could breed you a thousand times and never get tired of the way you clench around me.”
His cock pulsed inside you, impossibly thick, and every subtle drag and shift of his hips sent a shiver through your entire body. He held you there, immovable, his weight pinning you to the mud and leaf litter, fucking into you with a slow, brutal rhythm that left you gasping every time he drove home. Each thrust felt like it would split you, stretch you beyond your limit, and each time you bent, pliant, desperate to be filled further, to be ruined in the same way again and again.
His tail wrapped around your left ankle, hoisting the leg upward and outward, so you were splayed wide, offered to him and the lake and the night. He leaned forward, his chest pressing between your shoulders, bent over you, mouth at your ear now, voice ragged and low. “Little one,” he growled, “I will never let you forget how you felt this night. No matter how many times I take you, I’ll always want to take you again.”
You didn’t bother to hide your noises now; any vestige of shame was gone, burned away by the friction and fullness and the way his hands gripped you with such claiming certainty. You felt yourself dripping down your thighs, making a mess of the ground beneath, and you thought it fitting, to mark the earth as you were marked, to leave nothing untouched by him.
“If the lake had not insisted on a bloodline to restore balance, I would have demanded it. You are the only thing I want in all this world, and every drop of you belongs to me.”
He fucked you harder, faster, driving you into the ground with abandon. Each thrust made you whine, made your elbows buckle and your head drop forward, hair stuck to your face with sweat and dew. He reached around and slid two fingers to your clit, rubbing in tight, ruthless circles that sent the world spinning white-hot.
You came so hard your vision narrowed to a single bright point. Your limbs splayed and trembled, nails sinking into the dirt and your ass bucking up to meet every brutal blow, savoring the way it forced you open, greedily cradling his cock to the hilt with every cycle. Curtis growled so low and animal it vibrated the whole length of you, and his hands tightened on your hips, guiding you, fucking you back onto him, making sure you took every last centimeter his body offered.
You wanted to scream with it. You wanted to howl his name so loud they’d hear it in every village around the lake. But you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but let him use you, let the rhythm of his rutting into you become the only pulse that mattered. All sense of the world dropped away, and there was only the slap of skin, the wet, hungry noises of your cunt taking his cock, the raw, animal sound of your own voice every time the head of him pressed so deep it made your belly ache.
Curtis—no longer the stranger, never just the creature—was everything: the air, the ache, the axis about which you spun. Every time he slurred your name into your ear, mangling the syllables with his animal tongue, a fresh ripple shuddered through you. He rutted you in the dirt, rutting away the remnants of your old life, seeding you so deeply you could feel it pooling hot inside where the child already grew.
He never relented. Even as your body tried to collapse, he pinned you, forced you to take more, forced you beyond your own edge, made it impossible to know where you ended and he began. He held you through it, every time you tried to shudder or twitch away, his hands locked your hips exactly where he needed them, pulling on the strings of want and need until you unspooled every last thread, the tip of his tail tormenting your throbbing clit.
If you had thought yourself hollowed by his absence, you were now made whole by his invasion, every place inside you mapped and remade by him, by this act of mating, of possession. He bit the back of your neck, just at the nape, so hard you cried out and the sound split the night open, echoing off the trees and out to the water, where every living thing had to know what he was doing to you. The air rang with your sounds, and the taste of copper and earth and salt was on your tongue, and you felt the sharp crackle of him biting through the flesh just enough to breach the skin, a mark so carnal it would never fade. You wanted to be marked. You wanted to be his—no, you were his, and always would be, because some part of you had never belonged to anything else, and he simply reminded your body whose it was.
And then he came. You felt it, the flood of cold and the clutching, almost electrical pulse. His cock throbbed inside you, filling you even as you clenched and spasmed around him, milked every last drop of his seed so there could be no doubt, none, what your purpose was. He stayed like that, locked to you, fused to your body as if he could keep you in place for the rest of eternity by the sheer force of want. All up your spine, his scales left the faintest scratch, the imprint of his cooler body temperature, a memory of friction that anointed you as singularly his. Curtis kept you there, cock still embedded in you, his weight almost comforting, the way he spread over you like a shield against the cold and the dark and anything else that could try to threaten you.
Eventually, he shifted, rolling you gently onto your back as though conscious of your fragility. His cock slid from your body with a raw, slippery sound, and you felt some of his spend leak from your fluttering cunt, soaking the ground beneath you.
He hovered over you, gaze unblinking, so close you could see the reflection of your own trembling, ruined face in his eyes. The hard line of his body pressed you flat to the earth, and you felt every inch of him, every scale and muscle, the brutal weight of his presence. He let his hands roam your stomach and your hips, drawing slow, reverent circles, memorizing the curves of your form that he already knew too intimately. For a moment, you thought he was going to say something soft, something almost human. Instead, his mouth settled by your ear and he said, voice stripped to its essential hunger, “You come with me now.”
His tail curled around your thigh, not as a threat but as a matter-of-fact assertion of what would happen next. You were dizzy from the way he’d taken you, your cunt still raw and throbbing.
He lifted you, all at once, as if you weighed nothing. You were limp in his arms, boneless from the waves of pleasure, trailing wetness and ruin as he carried you back to the water. It should have been cold, but when the lake closed around your body it was only a relief, a soft, enveloping embrace that soothed the raw places. He held you afloat, one powerful arm under your knees, the other bracing your back, until your eyes unblurred and you could see his face above you, illuminated by the briefest shimmer of phosphorescence off the water. His eyes were luminous, impossible in the dark.
He kissed you again, more gently this time, and you let your head fall against his chest. He began to swim, slow and tireless, propelling you through the black, star-pocked surface and into the heart of the lake.
Hope you enjoyed a bit of monster-fucking Monday.
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Curtis, with his face buried in the crook of your neck, his humid breath panting against your skin as he cums with a groan and frantically pumps you full of his cream.
Okay, bye! 👋🏻😘
I don't thin you intended to poke my muse specifically for our lake Creature Curtis, but I don't think you will complain about it either. 😏Just know that this has been growing in my head for a few weeks now...
Never Going Back Again
Characters/Pairings: Bolotnik!Curtis x curvy!Reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Summary: One night near the lake has changed everything.
Notes: This is a follow up piece to this ask about a lake monster CE character, but you could theoretically read this on its own. This is also another piece in my Countdown to Chris-mas collection.
↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
When you were small, you and your sister had sat up late so many nights curled up in the window seat of the small bedroom you shared, and looked out over the trees out to the shores of the seemingly infinite lake. Sometimes you could see pockets of water glowing out across the wide, blue darkness. Sometimes there were dancing lights along the shore. The lake was integral to your town’s way of life, providing fish, connecting you through trade to other towns and countries, and nourishing the plant life along its edges.
As a child, those nights in the window had been frequent, both of you enchanted with the water and with the sky of stars and the moonlight. You had never given up the practice entirely, but as you’d both grown, sleeping hours had grown more appreciated.
But now you sat up again far too late every night looking out over the water.
Where he came from.
There were old stories told about creatures in the mountains, in the forest, in the lake, under the bed, in the closet, living in the attic… too many cautionary tales told keep children in line and to grow up wisely.
But now that you knew there was at least one man from the lake, you wondered how much of at least his folklore was true, and how much more you didn’t yet know.
And, most importantly, how much would affect you.
Because you had been enormously affected by him already.
Foolishly lured away from the safety of others along the shoreline, snatched by a bolotnik, your virginity not only taken, but your body used, ruined, and exploited for pleasure all night. For by the end of it all, you could not deny you had succumbed to the pleasure he wrought from you, even though he was still terrifying.
And so you watched each night from your window, unsure what to do.
You couldn't shake the memory of his touch, the way he had made you feel things you'd never imagined. Each night as you gazed out at the dark waters, a part of you hoped to see those mesmerizing lights dancing on the surface again.
But weeks passed with no sign of him. You began to wonder if it had all been some fevered dream. Yet your body remembered - the soreness between your legs, the marks on your skin that had slowly faded. And there was something else, a change you couldn't quite place.
Your courses didn't come. Panic rose in your throat when you realized what that likely meant. But there was a chance his seed hadn’t taken. Your bleeding had come late or not come at all before. And it had taken your sister a fair amount of time until she had born her first child while diligently trying with her husband.
Still, you placed a hand on your belly, wondering if there was new life growing inside you. The child of a monster. Your child.
Though it was the water your eyes relentlessly looked to, a flash of movement in the trees drew your gaze. Heart pounding, you peered at the edge of the forest near your family’s home. For a long moment, nothing stirred. Then you saw it - movement among the underbrush.
A shadow detached itself from the trees, moving with an unnatural grace. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the hulking form of Curtis. He emerged into a patch of moonlight, his scales glinting, eyes fixed on your window.
Your heart raced. For a moment, you froze, unsure what to do. Part of you wanted to flee, to wake your family and raise the alarm. But another part, a part you were ashamed to acknowledge, felt a thrill of excitement at seeing him again.
Before you could decide, he was striding forward, pausing only for a moment at the edge of your family’s property, those eerie, impossibly bright, blue eyes fixed on your window. Then he continued forward. Even from a distance, you could see the way his muscles rippled as he moved. His tail swished behind him, hypnotic in its motion.
Your breath caught in your throat as the creature approached your home. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to hide, to call for help. But you remained frozen, transfixed by his otherworldly presence.
In mere moments, he had scaled the side of your house with inhuman agility. His clawed hands gripped the windowsill as he peered inside, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours.
Without him prompting you, you pushed the window open.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.
"Did you miss me, little one?" he purred, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.
You almost balked at the term because anyone is little compared to him, but you couldn't find your voice to respond even if you'd wanted in that instant. Your body trembled, caught between fear and a shameful excitement.
With fluid grace, he slipped through the window and past you into your room. He towered over you, his massive form larger than you remembered. The cool night air raised goosebumps on your skin, but it was the intensity of his gaze that made you shiver. You could smell the scent of lake water and earth on his skin.
He reached out, his clawed hand gently cupping your cheek. You flinched at first, but then found yourself leaning into his touch. His skin was cool and slightly damp, reminding you of the lake's waters.
"You've been watching for me," he said, his voice a low rumble. It wasn't a question. "I've seen you at your window night after night."
You nodded, unable to deny it. "I... I wasn't sure if you'd come back," you whispered.
His thumb traced your lower lip, sending a shiver through you. "I told you I would return for what's mine," he said.
His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, and a knowing smile curved his lips. His gaze dropped to your belly. "And it seems I've left more than just memories with you."
Your hand instinctively went to your stomach. "How can you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
His chuckle was low and dark. "I can smell the changes in you, little one. Your scent is sweeter now, ripe with new life."
Your breath caught in your throat. So it was true. The suspicion you'd been harboring was confirmed by this creature who could somehow sense what your own body had only begun to whisper.
His hand drifted down to rest on your belly, his touch surprisingly gentle, brushing over your hand.
“Do you have a name?” you asked tentatively.
He smiled, a mixture of amusement and appreciation in his eyes. "Curtis," he replied. "Though I'm surprised you care to know it."
You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Part of you was still terrified, but another part was drawn to him, fascinated by this otherworldly creature who had claimed you so thoroughly.
"Curtis," you repeated softly, tasting the name on your tongue. It seemed too ordinary for such an extraordinary being.
His hand moved from your belly to your waist, pulling up from your seat and drawing you close. "And what shall I call you, my sweet human?"
You hesitated, then whispered your name.
"Beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. His breath was cool against your skin, making you shiver. "It suits you."
You gasped as his lips brushed your throat, your body responding to his touch. Your breath hitched as Curtis's lips trailed along your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your sensitive skin. A whimper escaped you, torn between fear and desire.
"Shh," he soothed, his large hand cradling the back of your head. "We don't want to wake your family, do we?"
The reminder of where you were, of the danger, sent a jolt through you. You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.
"Curtis," you whispered urgently, "we can't - not here."
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh? And where would you suggest, little one? Back to the lakeshore?"
The memory of that night flooded your senses - the cool grass and earth beneath you, the scent of the water, the overwhelming pleasure. You shuddered, heat pooling low in your belly.
He nipped gently at your earlobe.
"I've thought of you every day since our night together," Curtis murmured, his voice low and husky. "The taste of your skin, the sound of your cries... and if I hadn’t found you with child, I was determined to attempt to breed you again, little one."
You trembled in his arms, torn between fear and a growing desire. His massive form dwarfed you, reminding you of his inhuman strength. Your resolve weakened as Curtis's hands roamed your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he touched. You knew you should resist, should cry out for help, but the words died in your throat. Instead, a soft moan escaped your lips as his fingers traced the curve of your breast through your thin nightgown.
"That's it," he purred, encouraged by your response. "Let yourself feel, little one. Your body remembers the pleasure I gave you."
And it did. Your skin tingled with anticipation, your core aching with need. You pressed closer to him, inhaling his scent of lake water and earth. His tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
"Curtis," you breathed, your hands tentatively exploring the planes of his muscled chest. "We shouldn't…"
But even as you protested, your body betrayed you. Your nipples hardened as he insistently brushed his thumbs back and forth over each tender nub.
"Please," you whimpered, though you weren't sure if you were begging him to stop or continue.
Curtis lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to your bed. He laid you down, then stepped back to shuck off his meager clothing - only a white shirt and dark pants. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, his scales glimmered, casting otherworldly patterns across your skin as he loomed over you.
He settled onto the bed, slowly crawling over you. "Hush now," he murmured, a clawed finger tracing your lips. "I'll make you feel good, just as I did before."
Your nightgown was pushed up, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air. Curtis's hands roamed your body, reacquainting himself with every curve and dip. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers found your most sensitive areas.
"So responsive," he purred, his tail caressing your inner thigh. "Your body remembers me well."
You arched into his touch, shame and desire warring within you. You trembled, both from fear and anticipation, as the cool night air kissed your exposed skin. Curtis's eyes, gleaming in the darkness, roved hungrily over your bumps and curves.
"Gorgeous," he breathed, leaning down to press his lips to your stomach. "My child grows here."
You gasped as his tongue, longer and more dexterous than any human's, swirled around your navel. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them. You could feel the heat of his breath against sex.
"Curtis," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can't... my family..."
He looked up at you, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. "Then you'll have to be very quiet, won't you, little one?"
Before you could protest further, his mouth was on you. His tongue, impossibly long and nimble, delved into your folds. You bit down on your fist to stifle a cry of pleasure. Curtis growled approvingly, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core.
Your free hand tangled in the sheets. His tail slithered over your wrist, then wrapped around your thigh, holding you open for his ministrations. You writhed beneath him, struggling to stay quiet.
Curtis's tongue worked magic between your thighs, lapping and probing in ways that made your toes curl. You pressed your fist harder against your mouth, desperately trying to muffle your cries of pleasure. His tail tightened around your thigh, keeping you open as you squirmed beneath him.
"That's it," he murmured against your sensitive flesh. "Let go for me, little one."
Your hips bucked involuntarily as he sucked on your most sensitive bud. The pressure built inside you, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment. Curtis's fingers joined his tongue, stretching and filling you. The dual sensation was overwhelming.
"Curtis," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I can’t..."
“But you are,” he growled, the vibrations sending you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed as
Your back arched off the bed as pleasure exploded through you. Curtis's mouth stayed locked on your center, drawing out your climax until you were trembling and gasping for air. Only then did he lift his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"Stunning," he murmured, crawling up your body. The scales along his torso rubbed against your sensitized skin, sending aftershocks through you. "But we're far from done, little one."
You felt the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and a mix of fear and anticipation fluttered in your stomach, remembering how painful and then how pleasurable his thick member inside you had been. Curtis nuzzled your neck, inhaling deeply.
"Your scent is intoxicating," he growled. "Especially now, carrying my child."
His hand splayed possessively over your belly. You shivered, torn between the lingering pleasure and the reality of your situation. This creature - this man from the lake - had claimed you in ways you never imagined possible. And now he was here again, in your own bedroom, ready to take every piece of you once more.
Curtis's lips found yours in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting of you, of lake water, and something wild. You moaned softly against him, your body responding despite your lingering trepidation.
He pulled back, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. "Turn over," he commanded softly.
Your heart raced as you obeyed, rolling onto your stomach. Curtis's hands gripped your hips, lifting them. You felt exposed, vulnerable in this position. His tail wrapped around your waist, steadying you.
"So beautiful," he murmured, his hands caressing your back, your sides, your bottom. You shivered at his touch, goosebumps rising on your skin.
You felt the blunt head of his member pressing against your entrance. Despite your earlier climax, you tensed, remembering the initial pain from your first encounter. Curtis sensed your apprehension and leaned over you, his chest pressed to your back.
"Relax, little one," he whispered in your ear. "Your body knows me now. It will welcome me."
Slowly, inexorably, he began to push inside. You bit down on your pillow to muffle your cries as he stretched you, filling you more completely than you thought possible. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, torn between the discomfort of the intrusion and the growing pleasure.
His hand slid between your legs, fingers circling your still-sensitive bud. You gasped, pushing back against him instinctively. Curtis took advantage of your movement, slowly pressing inside you.
The stretch was intense, but not painful as it had been before. Your body, as Curtis had promised, seemed to remember him, accommodating his impressive girth. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he sank deeper.
"That's it," Curtis growled, his voice thick with pleasure.
Curtis's tail tightened around your waist as he seated himself fully within you. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, filling you completely. His hands roamed your body, caressing and soothing.
"So tight," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel exquisite, little one."
You whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the fullness, the stretch. Curtis began to move, slow, shallow thrusts that made you gasp. His hand slid from your hip to your belly, caressing the slight swell there.
"Mine," he growled possessively. "Both of you."
You whimpered softly as he continued to move in slow, deeper thrusts that sent waves of pleasure through your body. His tail unwound from your waist, the tip sliding between your legs to tease your sensitive bud.
"Curtis," you gasped, struggling to keep your voice down. "It's too much..."
But your body betrayed your words, pushing back to meet his thrusts. Curtis chuckled darkly, nipping at your shoulder.
"Your body knows what it wants, little one," he purred. "It craves me, just as I crave you."
His pace increased gradually, each thrust driving deeper. You buried your face in the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure. The initial discomfort had faded, replaced by waves of sensation that threatened to overwhelm you.
Curtis's movements grew more insistent, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. You clutched the sheets, struggling to stay quiet as waves of pleasure washed over you. His tail continued its teasing ministrations between your legs, the dual sensations driving you towards another peak.
"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me again, little one. Show me how much you've missed this."
Your body obeyed, even as your mind reeled at the intensity of it all. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. You bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your cry of ecstasy as your second orgasm crashed over you.
Curtis groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as your inner walls clenched around him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and humid against your skin. His hips jerked erratically as he reached his peak. With a low, guttural groan that vibrated through your entire body, he climaxed. You felt his member pulsing inside you as he pumped you full of his seed.
Wave after wave crashed over him as he continued to thrust, each movement sending another surge of his essence deep within you. His tail coiled tightly around your thigh, holding you in place as he claimed you completely.
The warmth of his release spread through you, a stark contrast to his cool skin. You shuddered beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation and the knowledge of what was happening. The room filled with the scent of lake water, earth, and your combined arousal.
Curtis's teeth grazed your shoulder, not quite breaking the skin but leaving marks that would linger for days. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he rode out the last waves of his climax, determined to empty himself inside you. You trembled beneath him, your body still quivering with aftershocks.
Slowly, his grip loosened, and he eased himself out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. Curtis gathered you in his arms, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His tail wrapped around your waist, holding you close.
"Beautiful," he murmured, nuzzling into your neck, the scratch of his beard making you shiver. "You were perfect, little one."
You lay there, catching your breath, your mind reeling from what had just transpired. You could feel the stickiness of some of your combined spend that had oozed out of your cunt hot between the top of your thighs. Curtis's hand splayed possessively over your belly, reminding you of the life growing within.
"What happens now?" you whispered, fear and uncertainty creeping back into your voice.
Curtis's arms tightened around you. "Now," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, "you come with me."
Your heart raced at his words. "What? I can't just leave, Curtis. My family, my life..."
He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Your life is with me now, little one. You carry my child. You belong to the lake, to me."
You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "Please," you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. "I'm not ready. I can't just disappear."
Curtis sighed, his breath cool against your neck. "I understand your hesitation," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But you must understand, little one. Our child cannot be raised in the human world."
You trembled in his arms, torn between fear and a strange sense of longing. "I can't just leave. My family—"
"Will never understand," he finished for you. "They can't accept what you've become, what we've created together."
You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. Part of you knew he was right - there was no way to explain your pregnancy, no way to raise a half-human, half-lake creature child in your village. But the thought of leaving everything you'd ever known was terrifying.
"Shh," he murmured. "I know it's frightening. But I will take care of you.”
“I’m not ready,” you cried softly. You weren’t ready to leave, you weren’t ready to carry his child, you weren’t ready for any of this.
Curtis's grip on you loosened slightly, though he didn't let go completely. His hand continued to caress your belly gently.
"I understand your fear," he murmured, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "This is all new to you. But you must understand, little one - our child cannot survive in your world. And you... you've been changed by our coupling. The lake calls to you now, doesn't it?"
You shivered, realizing the truth in his words. Ever since that first night, you'd felt drawn to the water in a way you never had before. The sight, the smell, the sound of it called to something deep within you.
"I... I need time," you whispered. "Please, Curtis. I can't just vanish without a trace. My family will worry."
He was quiet for a long moment, his tail tightening slightly around your waist before loosening as well.
“Curtis?” you prompted, worried as his silence drew on.
"Sleep now, little one," he finally murmured, his arms tightening around you once more. "Dawn will come soon enough."
But sleep didn't come easily. You lay there, hyper-aware of Curtis's presence behind you. His cool, slightly damp skin pressed against yours, his tail still wrapped loosely around your waist. The rise and fall of his chest against your back was steady, but you could tell from the tension in his body that he wasn't sleeping either.
The moonlight filtered through the window, casting eerie shadows across the room. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves outside, made you tense. You kept expecting someone to burst through the door, to discover you in the arms of this creature. But the night remained quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the lake's waves in the distance.
As the sky began to lighten, your eyelids grew heavy. Despite your racing thoughts, exhaustion finally overcame you.
When you awoke mere hours later, you were alone.
Well... a little surprise monster fucking for your Monday. HOPE THE HOES IN THIS HOUSE ENJOYED IT!
PART THREE/THE NEXT: Darkness Always Finds You Either Way
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