I Cannot With This Man, I Hate And Want Him At The Same Time 😭

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Posting this here because ya never know who needs to hear this. It’s something that I really need to hear most days so hopefully this helps whoever also needs a little reminder. 💖

Also tagging a few friends. 🥰 @deathonyourtongue @superrezzy00 @tarashari-tfp @munteanhore @nuggsmum @mareethequeen @islanddgal @themyscxiras @starrynite7114 @felicity-x0 @beloved-imp @breanime @lavenderrosemind @theoceanhathsolace @jackburtonsays

i know ur not taking requests right now . but if i could just get a CRUMB of meeting ransom at a halloween party... a hc, a drabble, a fic, IDC i am so desperate for this. i need to know what he’d dress up as. please i am begging

Bwahahaha I could feel your shameless hoe desperation, nonnie, and I couldn't just leave you hanging. Consider this your very own Halloween treat 😘

Trick or Treat?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader Word Count: 2,943 Summary: You’d rather be anywhere else than a Halloween party thrown by rich Boston elite, but luckily a pretty asshole with a lame Halloween costume keeps you entertained. Warnings: Explicit language. Sexual themes. AU.

You didn’t even want to go to this Halloween party.

It wasn’t your normal scene and you had very little in common with rich Boston socialites. But your best friend had begged you, pulled out the puppy dog eyes and pouting lower lip and everything, and damnit! You couldn’t say no to her when she did that.

And she knew it.

She also promised it wouldn’t be as bad as you were already assuming, because her cousin was throwing the party and her cousin was awesome.

Her cousin was also a rich Boston socialite who lived in an actual facts manor on the edge of the city.

Your mouth literally gaped as you struggled with your costume as you got out of your friend’s car.

That was another thing you weren’t crazy about - wearing a costume. You hadn’t done that in years. But when you told your friend you would just dress in your scrubs and be a nurse for Halloween, like you were every other day of your life, she nearly rioted.

So you’d called in a favor with another friend, one who was a local theater director and gleefully helped you comb through his costume department to pick out something to wear to the party.

And you would be lying if you said you weren’t just a little bit in love with the extravagant renaissance dress. It was from a Shakespeare play you couldn’t remember the name of, and it was actually very pretty and fit you surprisingly well.

But as you continued to gape at the many expensive vehicles filling the circular driveway, the type of high end cars you would never even ride in, let alone own in your lifetime, you couldn’t help but feel out of place.

And that feeling only increased as you followed your friend inside the manor and realized your pretty dress was a far cry from the various sexy Halloween costumes donned by the other women at this adult frat party you just stepped into.

You froze in the entryway, eyes so wide you were sure you resembled a cartoon character, as you glanced around.

There were people everywhere. Filling the excessive manor, with their excessive alcohol, and the too loud music making the floor vibrate beneath your feet.

“I just wanna find my cousin and say hi,” your friend chirped, adjusting her sexy witch costume as she grinned at you. “Go find us some drinks, and maybe a couple of sexy vampires or something to take home for the night, and I’ll catch up with you.”

“You’re not seriously going to ditch me as soon as we get here?” you scoffed.

“I’m not ditching,” she promised. “I’ll be right back!”

And then she was gone, lost in a sea of sexy doctors, sexy Red Riding Hoods, and sexy…you squinted - was that a sexy SpongeBob Squarepants costume?

“Oh my god, why did I agree to this?” you muttered to yourself, realizing that a few people nearby were smirking at your more traditional--and conservative--costume as they whispered to each other.

Feeling your face warm, you hitched up your dress and shimmied through the crowd. There were drink filled coolers, kegs, and tables laden with snacks and food throughout the space, so you grabbed a beer, just one, cause your ditching BFF could get her own, and planted yourself in a corner of one of the less crowded rooms.

It looked like some kind of sitting room and, bored from the party and trying your best not to make eye contact with the drunk, sleazy looking spartan a few yards away who was eyeing you up like a prime rib, you hedged around the perimeter of the room. You observed the various family photos and awards as you idly sipped your beer.

You were trailing your fingers along a familiar book on the built-in bookshelves when a voice suddenly spoke to your left.

“So what’s your deal? You an exiled princess? Or a lonely queen? I could probably help with that second one.”

You started, straightening and glancing over to find a ridiculously attractive man staring at your chest.

He was tall and lean, his shoulders broad and encased in an expensive looking maroon sweater. His dark gray slacks were perfectly tailored, hinting at muscled thighs and long legs. His dark blonde hair was neatly swept away from his face, his pale skin a beautiful practice in sharp lines and perfect angles.

He was, quite simply, the most handsome man you had ever seen in real life, and you fidgeted to be in his company.

His blue eyes finally lifted from your cleavage as he took a pull from his beer, and you remembered his question about your costume.

Your gaze narrowed. “I’m not exiled or lonely, I’m just--”

“A stuck up prude?” he guessed, eyes sparkling as your mouth fell open.

“Well who are you supposed to be?” you cried, waving a hand at his normal attire. He stuck out like more of a sore thumb than you did.

A smirk slowly curled his lips and he stepped closer, invading your personal space as he met your gaze. With a perfectly straight face, he replied, “I’m the guy who’s gonna be balls deep in that uptight pussy by the end of the night.”

You spluttered wordlessly, torn between the embarrassment that warmed your face and suppressing your giggles, because this guy was ridiculous...even as a tiny part of you rippled with excitement at his lewd declaration.

Because, honestly? You’d never had a man that pretty show you a lick of interest.

His snicker of amusement that he momentarily struck you speechless made your gaze narrow further. You rolled your eyes as you shoved him out of your space, very purposefully ignoring just how warm and firm his chest felt beneath your touch.

“In your dreams, asshole,” you snorted before hurrying past him in search of your friend.

Your search stretched on, and after what you guessed was fifteen minutes or so of your friend being MIA, as well as dodging a number of lecherous comeons, you needed air.

Even if that air was abnormally chilly for an evening in late October. You decided you’d much rather risk frostbite than spend one more minute inside that fancy manor with all those smug, outrageous partygoers.

Which is why you hedged away from a small group of people smoking a joint just outside of the manor and wandered around the side of the large home. Relief eased the tension from your shoulders as you found the dark, chilly grounds around you empty of anyone else.

With a quiet sigh, you leaned against the cold, gray stone of the manor, hugging yourself as you shivered in the evening chill. The grounds seemed to stretch on forever, in what you assumed were rolling hills of perfectly manicured grass, but you couldn’t really tell in the dark. There was a lake in the distance, and for a split second, you wondered what it would be like to be this rich.

It’s not like you were struggling financially. You lived comfortably, and you appreciated everything you had. You actually really loved your job as a nurse and enjoyed working hard and helping others on the daily.

But still...what would it be like to drive home to this at the end of each day?

It was a concept you couldn’t even compute, and didn’t spend a lot of time trying to.

Another round of shivers shook your frame and you crossed your arms tighter over your chest.

“You look cold, sweetheart.”

Your head snapped up, spying the pretty asshole from earlier rounding the side of the manor and sauntering toward you. He was wearing a long, tan coat, a colorful scarf draped around his neck, and your jealousy at how warm he looked was instant.

He kept coming closer, until he was standing right in front of you, no more than a foot away. His gaze dropped to your chest once more, which was now put on further display with your arms tightly hugging yourself to fend off the cold.

It was your turn to snicker, at his complete lack of shame. “I finally figured out your costume,” you said. “You’re a guy who can’t take a hint.”

He laughed. “You can call me ‘Ransom,’ princess.”

You blinked. “Is that actually your name?”

His eyes narrowed as he took an exaggerated step closer, his front brushing against you and making you straighten. You pressed yourself against the stone behind you even more, trying to keep some distance between the two of you.

It was strange, the gentle malice shining in his gaze as he planted his palm on the wall beside your head. It was so different from the smug amusement you’d witnessed in him thus far.

Ransom leaned in close enough that his body heat was chasing the chill from your body, and you shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His hand fell to the curve of your hip, gently squeezing and you froze. “Wonder if you’ve got the talent to back it up. Feel free to drop to your knees and show me. For science.”

“Oh my god!” You half laughed, half gasped, trying to shove him away. “You are so disgusting!” Your eyes narrowed when you realized how ineffective it was - trying to push him away.

In fact, he only pressed closer, until your hands were pinned against his stomach and he was smirking down at you.

You huffed your defeat and instead glared up at him for all you were worth.

“Sticks and stones,” he faux pouted, chuckling as you gave him a waspish gaze.

You opened your mouth to tell him where he could shove his sticks and stones, but Ransom swooped in and kissed you quiet.

You were so stunned you went still, your breath catching at the warm play of his lips against yours. And then he was smiling against your lips and forcing his tongue into your mouth, until it was teasing your own and…

Well, sadly this pretty asshole was a very good kisser.

It was like all of your objections and offense literally evaporated as he worked your mouth with the filthiest, most thorough kiss you’d ever experienced in your life.

You moaned, prying your hands from between your bodies so you could touch him. One hand slid around the nape of his neck, the other groping his chest, exploring the muscles beneath.

Ransom hissed quietly as your cold fingers found their way beneath his scarf and collar and onto his bare skin. “Jesus, you’re fucking freezing.” He remained close, forehead pressed against yours, noses knocking.

You found your body curling even closer to him, craving relief from the cold, until you were flush to his chest, his coat now keeping you warm too.

“That’s my actual costume,” you murmured. “A frigid bitch.”

Ransom laughed, the amusement back in his eyes as they danced at you. “You’re funny, princess.”

You stared up at him, your hands tracing the smooth, luxurious fabric of his scarf. “Y/N,” you finally offered.

Ransom repeated your name softly, his lips curling into a hint of a smirk, but still more of a smile. “I’d be happy to warm you up. In fact, my house is fairly close and I have a very impressive fireplace.”

“Is ‘fireplace’ some kind of weird sexual innuendo or…”

“Why don’t you come home with me and find out?”

“It’s lame of you to prey on my hypothermia,” you told him.

“I’m pretty shameless when it comes to getting what I want,” Ransom returned. His fingers pressed into the curve of your hip, scorching you through the thick fabric of your costume. “Or who.”

At that, you grinned. “I have a feeling you’re used to getting what, or who, you want, Ransom.”

“You’re not wrong,” he smirked.

For some reason, you found his arrogance amusing, and oddly charming. Maybe you really did have hypothermia and it was affecting your judgment...or maybe that steamy kiss had thoroughly short circuited your brain.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, it was kind of fun, this sexy banter with a pretty asshole. More fun than hiding in the corner of a too loud party full of strangers.

“Sorry to say you’re gonna need to thaw me out a little more before I agree to go home with you,” you told him, gently pushing at his chest.

Ransom’s brows furrowed as he stared down at you, lips pursed with disappointment. “Meaning?”

“Meaning baby steps, Casanova,” you smiled mischievously, unable to help yourself as you gripped the lapels of his coat and tugged him close. “It’s gonna take more than a lame Halloween costume, lots of arrogance, and a decent kiss to get in my pants.”

“Decent?” Ransom scoffed, glowering as you pushed him away and stepped around him.

You immediately missed his body heat as the cool night air engulfed you.

“You always that enthusiastic for merely decent kisses?” Ransom huffed.

You hugged yourself tightly, glancing over at him with a wry smile as you blatantly ignored his question. “Does your car have heat?”

He blinked, thrown off by the change in subject. “...yes?”

“How about we sit in there and warm up, because I’d literally rather throw myself in the half frozen lake than return to that party.”

Ransom couldn’t suppress a smile. He shook his head, sighing as he shoved his hands in his coat pockets. He followed as you moved toward the front of the manor, then the driveway.

He pointed out his beamer, hand touching the small of your back as he guided you toward it. Then he was standing too close and pinning you against the passenger door as he dug around in his pocket for his keys.

“That kiss was way more than just decent,” he muttered, tugging his keys free. “You were practically putty in my hands. And those little gasps and moans, just from a kiss…”

Your face warmed as you blinked up at him, because he wasn’t wrong. It had been entirely too long since you’d had a kiss like that, let alone actually gotten laid. And just the thought of breaking your dry spell with this silver tongued Adonis was enough to make you shiver in delight.

Getting a whiff of his musky cologne as he shifted against you, you felt his hand sneak to your hip again. His proximity shielded you from the cold, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, just a little.

“Just imagine the noises I make when someone’s balls deep in this uptight pussy,” you teased on a quiet murmur.

Ransom’s breath caught, his grip on your hip squeezing hard as his gaze seemed to go dark with desire before your eyes. “Didn’t take you for such a tease, sweetheart.”

“What’s wrong, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

He smirked at your playful jibe, wedging his knee between your legs as he unlocked the passenger door. Even through the thick layers of your dress, you felt a dull ache spark to life in your core as Ransom’s thigh pressed against you with purpose.

“Mmm, careful, princess, you’re playing with fire.” His head dipped closer, lips hovering so close to yours you swore you could taste him. “You keep mouthing off like that, do all that teasing with no follow through, and you may just get burned right up.”

“Don’t threaten this frigid bitch with a good time,” you quipped. Your heart skipped a beat as Ransom smiled, white teeth flashing as those perfectly plump and tempting lips of his curled.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” he hummed, his thigh pressing against your core hard enough to make you gasp. You didn’t resist as his hands cupped your hips, rocking you against him as his mouth teased along yours.

Your eyes fluttered as he kissed you, much slower this time. He took his time tasting you, gently pulling you apart with his lips and tongue, swallowing your needy little mewl as you wound your arms around his neck and yanked him close.

When Ransom finally pulled away, you were both panting. You pressed a hand to your chest, like it would quell the rapid pace of your heart, your underwear thoroughly ruined and sticking to you uncomfortably as Ransom’s leg moved away as he straightened.

“Better than decent?” he taunted, smile smug as you stared up at him, a little dazed.

You blinked, and then snorted in laughter as you processed his words. “I’ll give you and your ego a moment,” you giggled, patting Ransom’s chest before tugging open the passenger door and carefully folding yourself, and your dress, inside.

Ransom stood there, gazing down at you before ducking low, so his eyes could meet yours. “The thing about my ego, sweetheart? It’s completely justified.”

His grin was wicked as you stared at him.

“You’ll find out soon enough, once I completely and thoroughly ruin you.” His thumb skimmed your kiss swollen bottom lip, his eyes still glued to yours. “And then you’ll fucking thank me for it. As you should.”

You pressed your thighs together, warmth rushing through you and your earlier chill forgotten entirely as Ransom fucking winked at you before closing the door. And as he sauntered around to the driver’s side of the car, you couldn’t help but stare, fanning yourself just a little as you realized he may have just thawed your frigid bitch exterior a tiny bit more.

And you were totally okay with that.

Lol yer girl can’t write a short drabble to save her fucking life. 🤷🏻‍♀️

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𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯.

inspired by @cillianmurphyss

the witcher season one + favorite quotes

Kitty was an hamster in another life

Speedy kitty

(via)

Like Real People Do

This is part of lokisoul 1k writing challenge. It was inspired by Hozier’s Like Real People Do.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: light swearing, pure fluff

Word Count: 4914 (I can’t wrote short things.)

Summary: Loki has just started dating the reader and he is struggling to express how much he cares about her. So he goes to Thor for help. It does not go well.

***

Sunday

“Thor, I need your help,” Loki asked hesitantly. He regretted asking his brother for anything but he was desperate.

Thor looked up from his cup and with his twinkle in his eye smiled.

“Why brother, how desperate you must be to come to me for help.”

Thor rarely gets to throw Loki’s words back in his face, so he relished the moment.

“Brother, I am serious,” Loki pleading, “You are friends with Y/N, am I correct?”

“I am. What does that have to do with you?”

Thor was just taunting his brother now, Y/N had come to him a few days ago and let him know Loki had asked her out. She had wanted to make sure Thor wasn’t going pummel his brother into oblivion. Thor was pleased to see Loki finally making good decisions. But that didn’t mean he was going to let him off easy.

“Well, I have decided to court her, so to speak, and I need to some help,” Loki shifted from side to side, clearly uncomfortable, this was uncharted territory for him.

“I don’t know how to properly express my affections towards her and I was wondering if you offer some insight.”

Thor snickered, “Why don’t just ask Y/N yourself?”

This was just too good. Thor decided to have a bit of fun with his brother. All’s fair.

“That would ruin the element of surprise, brother,” Loki quipped back.

“Fair enough. Well, I she has mentioned to me quite often how much she enjoys cats, perhaps you can get her a kitten?” Thor offered sincerely.

There was a glint in Loki’s eye. As much as he hated to admit it, his brother was on to something. But why just get an ordinary Midgardian kitten, when Y/N was deserving of so much more. He rushed away to begin making plans. Thor was startled by his brother’s abrupt exit.

“Where are you off, brother?” Thor asked after his departing brother.

“To make plans!” Loki bellowed, not even bothering to turn around.

Continuar a ler

I wouldn't mind help conditioning his beard

Conditioner

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count: ~500

Warnings: Smut! Explicit sexual content, oral- woman receiving, dirty talk, explicit language (must be 18+)

Summary: You help your boyfriend with beard care and it leads to much more!

Continuar a ler

Do not let me start talking about this movie.

I saw it (on a non profitable way to Disney) and oh boy! To not mention the political reasons as to why the movie is a desgrace the actual plot was more disappointing than what I was already expecting.

Mushu wasn't there, he was replaced by a phoenix (that is a western mythical animal not asian) and it was barely even there. The cricket wasn't the cricket but a human character. Shang was replaced by a soldier to which she hadn't any type of chemistry with, he was just there because. Her grandmother wasn't even mentioned once and instead she had a sister to which her single personality trait was "afraid of spiders". And omg the way they ruined the scene when Mulan would fail the "test" to become a wife was.... awful and just downright stupid. They didn't wanted to put "magical" elements on the movie but than Mulan as a very strong "chi" that gives her powers and she goes against a witch that isn't evil just misunderstood and okay the witch is not the worst part but God they didn't do anything right.

And seriously why on earth would they have special effects as shitty as the ones that were portrait there? I've seen better use of slow motion on The Transporter (I think on 2nd movie?) and that is so much older than the live action.

They picked on my favourite movie and completely ruined it. The story wasn't the same if they wanted to do a different story of Mulan they could have made a movie called "The Legend of Hua Mulan" or something and to an actual live action instead of that stupid ass movie

Don’t get me started on Disney screwing up the live action Mulan 😭💅

Lord be, hell yes.  And not just Mulan but all the live action movies.  Why couldn’t Disney just leave well enough alone?!?  The animated versions were classics, a piece of people’s childhood.  Why fuck with someone’s childhood?!  Oh that’s right, money.  Bastards.

(To be fair, I have not seen live action Mulan, I would rather not be disappointed.)

Thank you Nonny.

the expedition

summary: you're about to make the discovery of a lifetime, so why is it you find yourself more focused on the man you've hired to keep you alive?

pairing: mercenary!steve rogers x archeologist!female reader

warnings: SMUT (18+, minors DNI), swearing, mention of: torture, blood, death, alcohol, violence, and knives.

length: 6.8k

a/n: written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. inspired by national treasure, the mummy (1999), and similar adventure films. the premise of this fic is based on fact/real legends, then the rest is the result of my imagination.

“Steve Rogers?”

The man hums in answer, his gaze fixated on the small television mounted above the bar.

Offering your hand, you introduce yourself. “We spoke on the phone.”

His head leisurely turns, and though they’re hidden behind dark sunglasses, you feel his eyes as they sweep over you before he accepts your outstretched hand.

“You want me to take you into the jungle.”

Glancing down at his hand as it engulfs yours, you can’t tell if he’s asking a question or stating a fact.

Either way, you respond with “Jake said you were the best man for the job.”

Sort of.

[2 DAYS PRIOR]

“Are you crazy?” Jake gawks, “I mean, yes, you’re crazy, but this is like a whole new level for you.”

"I'm not here for your opinion." You assert, resting your palms on his desk and leaning forward. "I just need someone to take us, someone who knows the area."

Running a hand through his spiked hair, Jake replies "Look, I know a few guys there but none are gonna buy what you're selling. Treasure hunters are a dime a dozen in South America."

"Explorers." You correct, heaving a sigh. "C'mon, there has to be one guy willing."

"I'm telling you there's not."

Slapping your hands on his desk, you straighten up. "Fine then, we'll go alone."

"What?" Jake splutters, "You wouldn't, you - fuck, you would." He groans.

Glaring at you for a moment, Jake shakes his head before rummaging through the papers strewn across his desk.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous Ecuador is? Do you know how many explorers die there each year?" He lectures.

"Why do you think I'm here?" You retort.

Muttering under his breath, Jake finds what he's looking for and meets your unyielding gaze. "I'm not saying he'll do it, but if you have a chance with anyone, it's Rogers."

You grab the small piece of paper Jake holds out to you, but his tight grip stops you from taking it.

"He won't be cheap." Jake warns.

"Of course."

A few seconds pass before he relinquishes the paper to you.

Smiling sweetly, you pocket it. "Thank you Jake."

Huffing, he gestures to the door. "Go."

Your smile grows at his exasperated demand - which you quickly obey.

Jake's voice calls out behind you just as you open his office door.

"Don't tell Rogers what you're looking for!"

[PRESENT]

Releasing your hand, Steve pushes up from the bar stool.

You have to tilt your head up and up as you watch him reach his full height.

"That was awfully nice of him." Steve states dryly, his attention returning to the football game occuring on the television. "You didn't say why you wanted to go into the jungle."

Right.

"Well, I'm an -"

A low whistle interrupts you, drawing both your and Steve’s attention.

“Maxwell.” You greet the approaching man, smiling through gritted teeth.

Ignoring you, Max looks Steve up and down before announcing “Perfect, you’re just the kind of brute we need.”

He’s right. Steve Rogers is built like a brick shithouse and most definitely suited for the task at hand.

Stopping beside you, Max extends his hand. “You must be Steve Rogers, I’m Max.”

Giving a small nod, Steve shakes his hand before aptly reminding you both “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

You keep your lie brief.

“As I was saying, we’re here to study specific sections of the Amazon rainforest for a thesis I’m working on.”

Throwing an arm around your shoulders, Max helpfully - and truthfully, adds “She’s an archaeologist.”

Steve studies you both, his face expressionless.

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t believe us.

"You're treasure hunters." Steve declares, confirming your doubt.

"Actually, we're explorers."

Continuing on like you hadn't spoken, Steve says "And I'm guessing you're after the treasure of Llanganates."

"Good guess."

Sighing at Max's admission, you try again "We're -"

"Listen," Steve cuts off. "The jungle and mountain ranges here are no joke, and I'm not risking my life just so you two can come to the same conclusion as every other schmuck that's gone looking for that treasure, which is that it doesn't exist."

Your jaw drops at his words. "I'm no schmuck Mr. Rogers and just because you don't -"

"We have money." Max intervenes, shooting you a wary glance as you glare up at the large man.

Steve places his hands on his hips, his attention still on you while you bite your tongue.

You swear his lips twitch with a smirk.

Asshole.

"How much?" Steve eventually asks, turning his head to Max.

"How much do you want?" Max grins.

Silence falls as Steve mulls over the question.

"Five thousand a day."

Your jaw drops again. "No way!"

"Done."

Baffled, you gape at Max. "That's an insane amount."

Lifting his arm from your shoulders, he shrugs "This is an insane trip."

All you can do is stare as Max holds his hand out to Steve once more, stipulating "Five thousand a day for you to take us exactly where we want to go and to keep us from dying horrible deaths."

Nodding, Steve shakes his hand. "Deal."

You should feel ecstatic.

"So, when should we leave?" Max asks, "We're currently staying at the Tesoro Inn."

"First I need to know where we're going."

Both men turn to look at you.

Reaching into your jean pocket reluctantly, you pull out the map you outlined the beginning of your expedition on and hand it over to Steve.

Unfolding it, he studies the red line. "It's incomplete."

Of course, genius.

"You can see the rest when you get us that far." Arms crossed, you raise your eyebrows, all but daring him to argue back.

Steve regards you from behind his sunglasses before stating "We'll meet in front of the inn tomorrow morning, five thirty sharp." As an afterthought he adds "Make sure you pack light."

You can't prove it of course, but you just know he's directing that last comment at you.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you're dragged away by Max before you can utter a scathing response.

Steve's mouth twitches again.

[THE NEXT DAY]

You stand outside the inn, watching as the sun begins to peek above the horizon.

"So he's an ass and terrible at keeping time." You announce in a cheery tone.

Max groans, taking a sip of his coffee.

I suppose after last night he's probably had enough of me ranting about Steve Rogers.

"Darling, please, just ignore his personality and focus on his good looks."

You scoff loudly.

"Oh, don't even try." Max laughs, "I know how much of a sucker you are for big arms and hands."

Whatever.

"Good morning," A voice you unfortunately recognise calls out.

Looking over your shoulder at Steve's approaching figure, you use the shield of your sunglasses to properly assess him for the first time.

Steve is tall and built - that much you had observed yesterday afternoon.

His hair is dark blond and long, the ends of it curling against the collar of his shirt while some strands fall in front of his face, over his still present sunglasses. He has a beard and you'll forcibly admit that it's the best you've ever seen, full and well maintained.

You weren't typically one for beards but he made it work.

Similar to yesterday, Steve wears a long sleeved shirt that's rolled up to his elbows and khaki military style pants, held up by a brown belt. Over one shoulder he carries a backpack while a duffel bag hangs from his left hand.

"Mr. Rogers," You greet with a faux smile. "How nice of you to finally join us."

Steve grins, coming to a stop in front of you. "Retract those claws kitten, I had to secure our ride."

As if on cue, the loud rumble of an engine cuts through the peaceful morning air as an old pickup truck comes coasting around the corner, pulling up before you all.

"This must be the new Bentley model," Max quips good-naturedly.

The older man hanging out of the driver's window gives a rough laugh. "Ah, un comediante."

"Solo medio tiempo." Max retorts, earning another laugh.

Chucking his bags into the bed of the pickup, Steve grabs yours and Max's off the ground and adds them to the pile. Twisting back to you, Steve extends a hand for the satchel slung across your body.

You shake your head, grasping tightly at the brown leather strap.

He raises an eyebrow but makes no further comment, instead gesturing to the bed of the pickup. "Alright you two, hop in."

While you and Max climb into the back, Steve rounds the pickup and gets in the passenger side.

Max knocks twice against the back of the cab once you're both seated and the pickup rolls forward with a loud bang, rocking the two of you sideways.

Resting a heavy arm around your shoulders for stability as you each rock with the motion of the pickup on the dirt road, Max states "I love riding in the bed of trucks, reminds me of -"

“Arizona.” You finish with a soft smile.

“Yep,” Max pops the p. “Where we found nothing but rock.”

“And got burnt to a crisp for our efforts.” You recall, looking up at him as he laughs.

“Let’s pray this expedition proves more fruitful.”

“It will.” You answer without a second thought, clutching your satchel again. “This time is different.”

Arizona had been a spur of the moment idea, something to do for fun and experience - nothing more. There’d been no prior research, no maps, no coordinates.

Humming, Max leans forward and grabs the rolled up sleeping bag from his backpack, placing it between the cab and his head before closing his eyes. “Tell me about it again.”

Settling against his chest, you recite the story you know by heart.

“In 1532, Spanish conquistadores captured an Inca Emperor named Atahualpa who promised them a room full of gold and twice as much silver in exchange for his life. The conquistadores agreed and soon treasures from across the region were being brought to them. However, the conquistadores’ fear of a re-energised Inca military led them to kill the Emperor before the ransom was fulfilled."

“An Inca General named Rumiñahui had been en route with an enormous amount of treasure for the Emperor’s ransom when he learnt that Atahualpa had been killed. In response Rumiñahui ordered his men to take the ransom into the uninhabited land of Llanganates and hide it."

"Rumiñahui continued to haul even more treasure, such as gold, silver, jewels, and Inca artefacts to hide in Llanganates until he was captured by the Spanish. They tortured him for the treasure’s loaction, but he refused to tell them.”

“He’s a better man than me,” Max mumbles.

“In 1603 a Spaniard named Valverde married an Inca woman and he claimed that her family showed him the treasure. Before his death, he wrote out the treasure’s location and even drew a map to guide others to it. People have used and improved Valverde’s map for centuries trying to find the treasure and the last person to have claimed finding it was Barth Blake in 1886. In a letter he detailed his discovery of gold, silver, emeralds and other treasures and stated that he, nor a thousand men could remove all that he had found.”

“So in over a century no-one has claimed to have found even a piece of the treasure?” Max questions, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

Lifting your head from his chest, you shake it. "A man named Mark Honigsbaum tried to find the treasure and wrote a book about it in 2004. He concluded that either the Incans retrieved the treasure centuries ago or it’s been lost forever in the mountains.”

“You believe it’s still in the mountains, right?”

“Yes, in its original hiding spot, just not where it’s marked on Valverde’s map.”

Max shakes his head, “Why can’t they just say ‘go to this place, here’s the treasure, spend it wisely’?”

You chuckle, but both you and Max know you don’t - can’t agree with his sentiment.

Finding the location of this treasure has been your sole purpose for years. You’ve lived and breathed this lost piece of history for so long that you almost felt a part of it.

To be able to find something that you couldn’t simply be given a map to was everything to you. You’ve earned the coordinates sitting in your satchel through your own hard work and time - so much time. 

Succeeding at this would be your life’s greatest achievement.

As well as your greatest honour. The artefacts, like tiles from the Temple of the Sun, stowed away with that gold and silver were invaluable pieces of lost Inca culture that deserved to be returned to the people and shared with the world.

“How much is it all worth?” Max asks with a whimsical smile.

Sighing, you give him the answer he already knows, but just likes hearing. “Thirty-seven billion dollars, at least. However its historical significance is priceless."

Max squeezes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you even further into his side. "Well seeing how you're in it for the history, I guess you'll have no qualms with me taking ninety percent."

“Ninety?” You repeat, shocked. “That’s generous of you, I expected you to take at least ninety-nine percent.”

Pressing his mouth to the top of your head with a loud smack, Max states “You underestimate my love for you.”

[SOME HOURS LATER]

“Looks like we’ve reached the end of the road.” Max announces once the pickup has slowed to a stop.

You wouldn’t exactly call what you’ve been driving on for the past few hours ‘road’.

A door creaks open before being slammed shut.

“Alright kids,” Steve appears to your right, reaching for the bags. “This is our stop.”

Your legs wobble when you stand and your ass is completely numb from sitting so long.

Gingerly, you lower yourself out of the back of the pickup and walk over to Steve, Max ambling behind you.

Collecting your backpack off the ground, you straighten up as the pickup rolls forward with its signature loud bang and makes a u-turn.

“Buena suerte!” The driver calls out as he passes, raising a hand.

“Gracias!” You and Max return, waving back.

Sliding your sunglasses up onto your head, you turn around to face the famed Amazon rainforest and take a deep breath.

This is it.

“Please, after you.” Max smiles at Steve, sweeping his arm out towards the mass of green.

Dutifully, Steve pulls out a machete from the holder around his thigh and steps forward into the awaiting wilderness.

[SOME HOURS LATER]

The first few hours of the trek are completed in silence.

You listen to the soundtrack of the Amazon, admiring the nature around you while getting tripped up by it more often than not.

It’s thick - and humbling.

There are trees that stretch up so high they must almost touch the sky, and their trunks are so wide that you can see nothing else when standing in front of them.

Unfortunately, none of it can distract you from the heat.

The humidity is like nothing you’ve ever experienced and the sun isn't even at its highest point yet - not that you can see it.

You removed your long sleeved shirt a while ago, stuffing it into your backpack with your sunglasses. This left you in a dark green tank top and brown hiking pants.

"We'll take a break here." Steve declares, breaking the long silence.

Pushing your backpack off your shoulders, you take a seat on it and pull out your water bottle, taking a greedy gulp.

"I miss the truck." Max sighs forlornly, collapsing beside you.

His skin is shiny with sweat, just like yours.

You pat his back sympathetically.

“I thought you were looking for the treasure of Llanganates.” Steve says suddenly, sitting on a fallen tree across from the two of you.

You think it’s a question, but his tone makes it sound like a statement.

He likes doing that.

“We are.” You retort.

“Your map doesn’t follow Valverde’s.”

Surprised, your eyebrows rise. “You’re familiar with Valverde’s map?”

"Do you really think you two are the first I've taken on this wild goose chase?"

Raising your chin defiantly, you assert "We'll be the first to find it."

Steve smiles at your confidence. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see kitten, but I’ll keep my bet on you going home empty-handed.”

“Oh, I like a good bet, what are we waging?” Max pipes in.

You roll your eyes while Steve’s sunglasses continue to hide his.

After a moment your guide decides “If we find the treasure, my services will be rendered free.”

Max scoffs a laugh “How kind, and what percentage of the treasure will you be asking for?”

Steve smirks, “Nothing absurd, just one percent.”

Which would only work out to about three hundred and seventy million dollars.

Yeah, nothing absurd.

To Max, it’s a bargain.

“I knew I liked you for a reason." He grins, picking himself up and walking over to Steve to shake on their bet.

“When we find the treasure we will be donating it.” You deadpan.

“Ignore her.” Resting his hands on his hips, Max says “She doesn’t understand greed like the rest of us simpletons.”

Steve hums in agreement, “You’ve got finder’s fee written all over you kitten.”

“Would you not call me that?” You glare.

His mouth twitches.

“I thought it was fitting.” Max mumbles from where he stands.

“And yes Mr. Rogers, we will be donating the treasure and accepting whatever finder’s fee we’re offered.”

Standing up, you put your backpack on again, deciding for the group that the rest period is over.

As you stride away, you hear Max mutter to Steve “Don’t worry, we can fill our bags with goodies before the museum stiffs show up.”

[THAT NIGHT]

You sit in front of the small campfire that Steve had made for light rather than for warmth.

Heat isn't something you're in short supply of.

Max is lying in his sleeping bag on the ground beside you while Steve sits across from you both, on the other side of the fire.

He’s finally removed his sunglasses, but the night hides Steve’s eyes just as well as his shades. Instead of colour, all you see in his eyes is the reflection of the flickering flames between you.

"I was thinking -"

"Uh-oh."

"Shut up." Max sighs, lifting his hand to swat your right arm. "I was thinking about what you said about that Blake guy, the one who wrote the letter saying he found the treasure."

"Hmm?" You prompt.

“Well, it sounded like he really found it, so why didn’t he take it?”

“Blake took what he could carry, planning on -”

“Returning with more men and supplies to retrieve the rest, but on his way to New York from Ecuador he disappeared overboard. Most believe he was deliberately pushed to keep the treasure safe.”

Your head snaps towards Steve and he smirks at your reaction.

“Once again, not my first wild goose chase kitten.”

You’re about to tell him once again not to call you that, but Max speaks first, clearly trying to avoid another back and forth.

“What’s your deal anyway? How’d you end up in this hot ass country?”

Steve’s smirk fades as he shrugs, his expression hardening.

You side-eye Max.

Good one idiot.

“There’s not much to it.” Steve states. “I used to be in the military, now I’m not. Now I choose what jobs I do, which is usually anything that pays well.”

The fire crackles.

“What about you two?” Steve retorts. “Rich kids with nothing better to do? I can’t tell if you’re related or dating -”

“Ew.” You groan, pulling a face.

“We are not related, nor are we dating.” Max informs.

“And he’s the rich kid.” You add, gesturing down at Max.

“Yep, she just mooches off of me and I mooch off my dad.”

That earns a laugh from Steve.

“His dad is the director of one of the most respected museums in the world.” You elaborate. “I interned there while completing my degree, which is how we met.”

It’s hard to believe that was almost three years ago. When you first met Max you certainly had no idea how important he’d become in your life.

You’ll never forget the first thing he ever said to you.

“So, do you consciously dress yourself like Rachel Weisz in ‘The Mummy’ or is that just an odd coincidence?”

[THE NEXT DAY]

“I take back my complaints about the jungle.” Max mutters, observing the swamp.

Midday has just passed and so has the first and shortest section of your expedition - the rainforest.

Now the wetland awaits you all. You estimate that it’ll take roughly three days to get through.

Three days of mud, stench, and the feeling of being constantly wet.

“Staring at it isn’t gonna get us through it any faster.” Steve asserts, taking the first step into the green water.

Everyone has tucked the ends of their pants into their thick socks to try and limit as much contact with the water as possible.

You follow after Steve, Max trailing behind you with a reluctant sigh.

It’s slow-going, trying to avoid branches and rocks hidden beneath the surface that Steve finds with the long stick in his hand. The same stick he uses to avoid deceivingly deep puddles.

However, you soon miss the relative easiness of trekking through the water once you’ve reached the mud.

Loud suction sounds are all that can be heard as the three of you trudge through the mud that swallows your feet and then some with every step, a dark line on your pants indicating the highest it’s reached - halfway up your calves.

It takes all of your strength to free yourself, just so you can do it all over again.

“My legs are going to be ripped after this.” Max pants.

You can only huff a breath in response, too focused on pulling your feet from the mud. The suction is so strong you’re worried you might lose a boot - or two.

It also doesn’t help that your backpack seems like it’s full of bricks.

“Oh thank god, solid ground.” Max announces gratefully.

You look up - not to see if he’s telling the truth, but to see why he sounds so far away.

Wasn’t he just beside me?

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself.

Both men have made better progress than you. Max had spotted the solid ground because Steve now stands on it.

Staring back down at your engulfed feet, you grit your teeth and use every bit of strength you have left to try and quicken your pace. Every hour of daylight was precious and there wasn’t much left of today’s.

Maybe it’s their longer legs or strength - Max isn’t that much stronger than me, or maybe their backpacks simply didn’t weigh a million tonnes -

God my legs are burning.

Then suddenly, it’s like a weight is lifted.

Because it is.

Your backpack is pulled from your shoulders before Steve places it over his own, his bags deserted on the hard ground ahead.

“Oh.” You squeak, startled by his presence. “Uh, thank you - wait, what - put me down!” You demand as you’re lifted from the mud with an echoing pop.

Steve’s hands grasp your hips and he pulls you out with what seems to be little effort, his arms bulging with the action. Then you’re upside down, thrown over one of his broad shoulders.

“Are you a caveman? You can’t just manhandle me!” You protest, affronted.

You brace your hands on his lower back, trying to hold yourself up so your face doesn’t bump into his back.

Is he just all muscle?

He’s rock solid underneath your hands.

Steve chuckles, “I just did kitten.”

“Would you -”

“Time is valuable out here, we can’t wait around for you to finish playing in the mud.”

Glaring at the mud beneath you, you insist “Put me down or I’ll fire you.”

It’s a very weak threat since you and Max kind of need him, but it’s all you’ve got.

Also… maybe you kind of don’t want him to put you down. 

Maybe.

Another chuckle. “You didn’t hire me, nor are you the one paying me.”

“You know what -”

“Quit whining!” Max calls out, sounding close. “I told him to go get you, I want out of here.”

“See? I’m just doing what the boss asked.”

“How noble of you Mr. Rogers.” You mumble.

“Well it’s a nice change of scenery kitten.”

It takes a moment for you to understand his meaning, but it’s obvious when you do, your sharp inhale of air audible as you open your mouth to tell him to go -

You squeak again as you’re abruptly dropped onto your feet.

“And stop with the Mr. Rogers talk.” Steve says, shrugging off your backpack and hooking it over your left shoulder before you can snatch it from him. Dropping his head so that he’s looking into your eyes - his are still hidden behind those damn sunglasses, Steve purrs “But if you insist on being so formal, sir will do just fine.”

Your mouth falls open and Steve moves out of the way with a chuckle when you attempt to swing your backpack at him.

The absolute -

Max appears beside you and grabs your arm lightly, urging you forward as Steve continues trekking ahead.

“Please remember we need him alive.” Max implores.

[THAT NIGHT]

“Now will you admit to me that he’s hot?”

“Shut up.” You snap at Max, shooting him a glare.

“Just look at his -”

Covering his mouth with your hand, you raise your eyebrows in warning.

You’re sitting on a log in front of the campfire not admiring Steve in distance, illuminated by the torch on the ground beside him, as he changes shirts for the night and -

Max snorts against your hand, making you drop it as your gaze quickly shifts to the fire while Steve changes into a different pair of pants.

Can’t he do that somewhere more private?

“Oh darling, you’d love his thighs, have a look -”

“Would you shut up?” You hiss.

“Too bad it’s dark,” Max carries on. “I can’t really see what his underwear is hiding - ow!”

Whack. “Shut.” Whack. “Up.” Whack.

“Alright, alright.” He surrenders, rubbing his arm. “Jesus, you’re in one of your violent moods today.” 

Then, as if he can’t resist - because he can’t, Max smirks “Unlike Harry, I bet he’d actually know how to -”

“Oh my god -”

“Who’s Harry?”

You jump at the sound of Steve’s voice and your hand freezes midair, interrupted on its way to hit Max again.

“No one.”

“Her ex.”

I will murder you before sunrise - that’s what the look you direct at Max promises.

Steve hums, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. “And what didn’t he know how to do?”

His smirk tells you he’s already assumed.

I want to die.

No.

I want them to die.

“Cook.” You declare, glaring at him. “He didn’t know how to cook.”

“Was terrible at it,” Max reinforces with a sad tone.

You have to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“That’s a shame.” Steve states in his deep voice, a hint of laughter detectable in it. “Every man should know how to cook.”

“I wouldn’t call him much of a man.” Max inputs.

Fucking hell.

The comment is probably a little harsh, but Max is your best friend.

Harry had been your first and last attempt at a relationship. He’d been nice enough but… well, that was it really. Just nice, tolerable… passionless. You’d stick to the fictional men in your romance novels.

“Can you cook Steve?” Max asks, as casual as ever.

You turn to him with wide eyes.

“I’m a great cook.” You can clearly hear the laughter in Steve’s voice now.

“Of course you’d think that.” You jab, looking from Max to him.

Steve meets your irritated gaze over the fire with a smirk. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

“Well,” You shrug, biting back “Doesn’t mean they walked away satisfied.”

“I wouldn’t say they walked.”

Max chortles next to you, choking on his own spit while heat floods your face and neck.

“Okay.” Standing abruptly, you state “I’m going to bed.”

Their laughter follows you all the way to your sleeping bag.

[TWO DAYS LATER]

“I smell so bad.”

“I’m glad you said it.”

“Oh, because you smell so much better.” You mock, eyeing Max.

The wetland has been punishing. Every inch of your body ached. You were covered in mud, bug bites, and drenched in your own sweat. It’s unpleasant, to say the least.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you decide to tell Max some historical fun facts. 

Well, they’re fun to you.

“You know, Valverde drew the map to the treasure before his death because he wanted to give it as a gift to the King of Spain.” You begin, “The King sent out an expedition to find the treasure but -”

“They were unsuccessful - obviously, and the friar that was accompanying them died in a swamp.” Steve gazes around, “This very one most likely.”

You purse your lips at his interruption, but can’t find it within yourself to be annoyed.

“Also,” You try again, addressing Max. “The Spanish conquistadors would constantly dig up large quantities of platinum while searching for gold and while we know platinum to be more valuable than gold -”

“They dismissed it as junk because being so rare, they didn’t know what it was. All they knew was that it wasn’t gold, so they would dump it as scrap.” Steve concludes, his shade covered eyes looking over at you.

“They threw away one of the rarest and most precious metals on Earth because their lust for gold, something that only had value because they gave it value, blinded them to the true, unique treasure in front of them.”

It feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs.

Forcing a huff, you feebly respond “Would you stop that?”

“Stop what?” Steve smirks.

That damn, all-knowing smirk.

“Knowing… things.”

Wow, good one. You really got him.

Steve’s smirk widens into a grin. “Why kitten? You like it when I talk smart?”

Yes, it makes me want to climb you like a tree.

“No, I just prefer not being interrupted.”

“Someone please correct me if I’m wrong.” Max breaks in, “But is this hellhole about to end?”

You gaze ahead and see that Max hasn’t gone mad. The wetland is indeed about to end.

“We’ll set up camp on the outskirts of the swamp.” Steve directs, glancing at his watch. “Tomorrow we’ll head into the moorland, there's a lake on our path and we should reach it by afternoon.”

[THE NEXT AFTERNOON]

“It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Max sighs lovingly, admiring the lake. “I dibs using it first.”

You shrug, “Whatever.”

After three days covered in filth, what harm could waiting an hour or so longer do?

Besides, you wanted to take your sweet, sweet time.

Leaving Max at the lake, you and Steve trek into the forestry further up from the lake. It’s a stark contrast to the thickness of the Amazon rainforest, the trees still tall but slim and spaced out almost evenly.

Steve selects a spot far enough away from the lake to give anyone using it privacy and starts setting up camp.

Max wanders up from the lake a little while later, after everything has been set up and a small fire is burning steadily.

You tell Steve he can go next and he’s quick to rise.

It feels like you wait an eternity, but you know it’s just your eagerness to be clean that drags the time out.

The moment you spot Steve approaching through the trees you’re on your feet, heading for the lake.

At the lakeside you remove your clothes, leaving your bra and underwear on. You soak your clothes first, scrubbing them clean before laying them out over the rocks around the lake to soak up the afternoon sun.

Finally, you delve into the lake's cool waters.

You don’t rush, taking time to rub every part of yourself spotless. Afterwards you lie on your back and float around the lake.

When your face starts to feel too hot from the sun, you submerge underneath the water and hold your breath for as long as you can before coming back up.

Breaking the surface of the water, you keep your eyes shut while you run a hand over your face, removing the excess water.

When you open them again, you flinch.

“Do you mind?” You all but shriek at Steve who’s sitting on a large boulder at the lakeside, watching you.

He smirks, “Not at all.”

Glaring at him, you hiss “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

One of these days I’m going to kill him.

Swimming up to the edge of the lake, you keep everything below your neck underwater.

“Well pass me my towel would you?” You snap.

Steve raises an eyebrow and it’s only then that you realise he’s not wearing his sunglasses.

Blue.

His eyes are blue.

You’re too far away to see any great detail though.

Steve raises his other eyebrow, bringing you back to reality and making your teeth grind.

“Please.”

Leisurely, Steve reaches for your towel behind him on the boulder and holds it out to you, as far as his arm will extend.

“Are you serious?” You ask, exasperated.

He shrugs, “I’m afraid it’s the best I can do kitten.”

Groaning, you bite out “Fine, close your eyes.”

A moment passes before he eventually does as you demanded, his eyes shutting.

“No peeking.” You enforce, squinting at him.

When you’re certain he can’t see anything, you rise out of the water and quickly approach him.

The second your hand grips the towel Steve tugs on it, sending you toppling onto him.

You fall face first into his solid chest while your hands scramble for purchase to push yourself back.

“What are you -”

The words die in your throat when you feel his warm, rough hands grasp your waist and spin you around before bringing you back down to sit on his lap.

“Let me help you.” Steve husks into your ear, his beard pleasantly scratching at your skin. 

His right hand presses against your bare stomach, holding you in place while his other hand picks up your towel again, swiping it over your left arm.

You open your mouth to object but then his right hand glides up your wet skin to lightly wrap around your neck, tilting your head backwards so he can move the towel over your chest.

Any fight you might have had leaves your body in a giant whoosh, his touch turning you to jelly.

“There you go,” Steve coo’s. “It’s not healthy to always be so tense kitten.”

Fuck you.

That’s what you want to tell him, but instead you whimper as he suddenly drags the towel down and over your underwear.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Since you pleasured yourself? Yes. Since you had a man touch you? Even more of a yes.

But he hadn’t made you feel anything close to this.

“That’s okay.” Steve whispers, as if you had answered. “I’ll take care of you, it’s what I’m getting paid for.”

Abandoning the towel, his fingers dip behind the band of your underwear and you’re almost panting in excitement.

He’s so… big around you, caging you in and overriding your senses.

“Poor kitten,” Steve teases, dragging two of his fingers along your slick folds. “Just dripping for me, huh?”

You want to punch him so badly you -

“Oh.” You can’t help but moan as his thumb presses on your clit, lightly circling it.

Instinctively, your thighs squeeze together and both of your hands wrap around his wrist to stop the action.

You’re embarrassed by how sensitive you are.

It has been a while.

Steve hushes you, “I know, I know.” Using his left hand to pry your thighs apart, he begins circling your clit again. “Just relax, I got you.”

His words seem to have a pull over you, as your body instantly relaxes in his hold.

With your body pliant, Steve's fingers dip down further and slowly push into you, first one, then two.

Your hips lift to meet his hand.

“Good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers.” The vulgar sentence sets your face on fire while also making you clench around his digits with a gasp.

How the hell does he know just what to say? 

It’s like he’s read one of your books.

Steve’s fingers start to push into you faster and a bit rougher as his thumb continues circling your clit.

Your stomach tenses, the coil within you already about to snap and god you want it, you want it so bad, so, so bad -

“Please.” You mumble, not recognising your own voice. It’s so airy and desperate. “Please let me come.”

Steve releases a guttural groan beside your ear, the sound rumbling against your back while his arousal pokes at your ass.

His thumb quickens on your clit as his fingers keep pumping into you, nudging just a bit more before -

You moan loudly when he hits the sweet spot inside you.

Steve’s warm breath tickles your cheek. “Come for me baby, make a mess on my fingers.”

Crying out, you whine Steve's name as your orgasm collides with you. It's like the blood in your veins is replaced with fire, your body intoxicatingly hot as you jerk in Steve's hold, riding out your high on his still moving fingers.

Steve’s murmuring in your ear, but it’s all white noise as you come back to yourself.

“Fuck.” You whisper when you feel a little less lightheaded.

Removing his hand from beneath your underwear, Steve raises his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. You watch him, mouth slightly ajar.

“How was that kitten? Was it good?” Steve asks once he’s finished, his blue eyes shining down at you.

They’re a light blue - baby blue. At first you think they’re pure blue, but then you see just a flicker of green within them. Somehow it makes them prettier.

It’s a shame he’s always hiding them away.

“Very.” You breathe out honestly, your mind still muddled.

Steve grins and lowers to brush his mouth over your cheek, the feeling of his beard making you shiver. “The chef appreciates your compliment.” He teases.

Drawing the connection back to that night days before brings you out of your orgasm-induced stupor and kicks your brain into gear.

What the hell did I just do?

Pulling yourself from Steve, you stand - your thighs still shaking a little, and snatch your towel off the ground. Wrapping it around yourself, you collect your clothes from a nearby rock.

When you turn back around you find Steve still sitting in the exact same spot, contently watching you with a lazy smirk, like nothing’s out of the ordinary - like there isn’t a large tent in his pants.

Your core throbs at the sight and you quickly look away.

Marching past him, you don’t respond when Steve calls out “I’ll be up soon kitten, I just gotta wash some of my clothes.”

The smile in his tone is obvious.

Heading for camp, you try to process what just happened.

Did I really just let Steve finger me?

“Oh no, Max.” You groan, dreading his reaction.

Just act natural, he won’t know if -

“Hello there, you took your - wait.” His eyes narrow.

To avoid looking at him you begin drying yourself and re-dressing.

“What?” You ask, trying to sound casual.

Max strides over to you and grabs your chin, forcing you to face him.

“Oh my god.”

How the hell -

“Did you fuck Steve?” Max whisper-shouts, his brown eyes wide with excitement.

“No!” You respond in the same tone.

“Then what -”

“Look, he just… gave me a helping hand, okay?”

There was no point in trying not to tell him. He'd never drop the subject, or move on.

“Did he ask for a helping hand back?”

He’s so nosy about these things.

“No.”

Max grins, “I knew he’d be good to you.”

Squinting at him, you retort “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Waving you off, he sits back down by the fire. “Was he good at it?”

Checking behind you to make sure Steve hadn’t snuck up, you quickly answer “He was great at it, now can we please forget this ever happened?”

Max lets out a chuckle while you finish zipping up your pants. “Good luck with that darling, you can’t exactly avoid him out here.”

Fuck, he’s right.

What were you thinking?

You were supposed to be out here finding lost treasure - the find of the century, not getting some from your guide who you literally cannot escape from until this is over.

A guide who is going to be unbearable after this, as if he wasn't already.

Dropping your head into your hands, you sigh.

It's fine, everything is going to be just fine.