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rosakuma · 8 hours

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The Defense of one suspect and reasoning why the other one is sus(big spoilers for ep14 of DRDT)

Okay so with the huge reveal in the latest episode, we had a big revelation that we are down to two people who could be the killers. This post shall be a heavy discussion of that, so if you haven’t check out the latest episode, please go watch it before continuing to read(thank you!) Also warning: This is very long so prepare yourself to read for awhile if you can or want to.

Those being Eden or Ace. These two are picked as the murders due to both being connected to Nico’s murder attempt on Ace's account of being there. As for why, it’s because only those two could see the murder scene and gain access to the most important part of the crime scene, the tape. I’ve seen both parties talk about why their respective theories on which one did it before this episode. And while I can’t guarantee who I believe is innocent is not the culprit or vice versa, I wanted to share why I don’t believe Ace is the killer. Which would leave Eden as the culprit(unless we get another twist that there was someone following her). I’m going to go point by point with my reasoning. It probably won’t be perfect, but hey. If no one going to try to defend Ace, then I will(poor dude needs it, like seriously it’s so sad he has no one in his corner).

Reason 1: The crime scene + tape

As Teruko concluded, the culprit is connected to Nico’s murder attempt and tries to reuse that method to kill Arei. We know for sure Teruko is not the killer obviously from seeing her POV+ no motive to do so. When we get to the murder scene, we see that before Ace gets up, Teruko and Eden have enough time to look around at what happened. While Eden tells Teruko she needs a minute to process this, for all we know Eden could’ve been scanning the room still or maybe even listening to Teruko’s explanation.

Right as Ace gets up, he’s in pain and yelling while knocking Eden to the ground. He then grabs onto his neck from it stinging in pain.

After Teruko questioned him on what happened, he explained Nico tried to kill him(which he would know it was Nico before being knocked out again since Nico verified that he woke up struggling from the fan before going unconscious again when he hit the floor). To which to add to this, Ace at this moment must’ve been trying to get the wire off of his neck while getting a glance at Nico before he caused the fan to fall down and knock him back unconscious.

He then bolts out of the room to go find Nico to kill them. Afterwards, Teruko and Eden are greeted by MonoTv who has to clean up the scene and then kicks them out. They both go after Ace, who after talking with Teruko, Eden, and Levi, goes into his room for the night.

Now this could arguably be either him or Eden who grabbed the tape. But let’s think about what happens here. Ace wakes up in pain after being unconscious, immediately tries putting pressure on the source of his pain, and then runs out of the room trying to find Nico which is on his mind. Ace didn’t have enough time to absorb what was happening to process what Nico did to him along with grabbing the tape. But Eden however? She had a few minutes to look around the scene and was even knocked down onto the floor. And what was on the floor before that happened? The tape. (Also ignore the pony reacting to the tape being missing, I just wanted to draw my sona reacting to it for fun)

Another important detail to this is that MonoTv kicked Teruko and Eden out of the gym to clean it up.

To which it stated “I kept the gym closed overnight to make sure everything was super dry. Don’t want you slipping and falling into my chemical cleaning brews!” Meaning no one would’ve been able to go back and grab the tape or see the crime scene before it was cleaned up. So at that moment if our potential killers wanted to get that tape for murder, it would have to be right at the moment Teruko and Eden entered and caught Nico. Ace only had one thing on his mind, which was finding Nico. So he would not have picked up the tape. Plus we have to keep in mind that Ace acts on his emotions rather than logic(basically he ain’t that smart). Bro was willing to kill Nico(even though the complications of what would happen if he did it) without stopping for a moment to realize what happened nor to let himself calm down. I doubt he thought of a complex idea to copy Nico’s murder on the spot like that. While Eden on the other hand, our little clockmaker would probably be able to understand the mechanism of this murder in a matter of minutes since she’s used to having to build and work with parts running in motion.

Reason 2: Eden’s behavior, the note, and the timing of Alibi

Eden’s behavior across this case has been strange to me on rewatch. When going to the moment when they found Arei dead. Whit tries to cheer up Eden who is sad and crying over Arei dying. Immediately afterward switching up in saying she’s fine and just needs to deal with it. Even being peppy of saying “I’m super ready to investigate! I’ll do everything I can to help find Arei’s killer”.

She then tries to investigate with Teruko before she rejects her out of worry she could be the killer. Eden still tries to follow Teruko after this and overhears her talking to Charles, Whit, and Rose about the note. We know the note does have Eden’s name and was written to Arei to come meet her at the playground.

Now the logic was brought up of why would Eden try to help resemble the note when that would incriminate her to be the killer. Well, remember, pieces of the note were missing, with the key part being the time on whether it’s “PM” or “AM”. This evidence must’ve been important for Eden to get to prevent anyone from knowing when the murder takes place. Since Arei’s murder was confirmed to have occurred at 7:30 am due to her swinging. We know Eden doesn’t have an alibi for the morning. Only at night around that time she does.

Even the nighttime alibi I argue could’ve not prevented her from getting the fish due to the time frame of when her alibi is and the relaxation room. Eden claims around 7:30 pm that she was cleaning up dinner with Hu, right around when people thought it was the original murder time. Nico claimed after dinner, they went to feed the fish and then left afterward without seeing anyone. We know the relaxation room closes at 10 pm.

To which I purposed that Eden would’ve had enough time to get the water before it closed and after Nico left. Nico didn’t keep track of what time they fed the fish right? So for all we know they could’ve finished up dinner early or around 7:30 pm, left, and fed the fish. I doubt it took Eden and Hu that long to clean up dinner, so she could’ve slipped and gone to the relaxation room before 10 pm to receive the fish. Now yes you can still apply this to Ace of doing this still too, but I just wanted to point out that Eden could’ve still done it within the time frame. Eden if she was the culprit, she would wanted the note to be vague originally to make them think it was around 7:30pm as around the time of her alibi with Hu so no one would think of any suspicious on her possibly preparing for Arei’s murder for in the morning. Which would by default make someone like Ace who has no alibis at nighttime and the morning seem more suspicious than her who has one at least during nighttime. Thus why she came over to help repair the note as while it would make her seem suspicious of restoring it, she could argue with someone trying to frame her and that “Why would I help repair something that would incriminate me!?”

Reason 3: Evidence that doesn’t add up with Ace.

The evidence that confuses me with Ace being the killer is the starch ball and the turpentine. The starch ball most fans have concluded is turpentine, which was used for the clothes to stick them together. The thing is we don’t know the exact use this has in the murder case. But that isn’t important for this yet, what is important is where it came from. Charles found the ball in the dress-up room formed by Teruko and Hu’s old clothes.

The clothes were left in the dressing room. Meaning the murderer must’ve known about this outfit change occurring in there. We see suspiciously later that before Nico’s murder attempt, Eden was already there when Teruko went to that room. Eden claims she heard about the outfit change from Hu and went there to receive the new clothes for her and Teruko.

Eden at this time could’ve easily gotten hold of Teruko and Hu’s old clothes to use. Not to mention, if we assume that Eden was going to plan to kill Arei(just maybe didn’t have a set method yet), their conversation between them of Arei promising to be Eden’s friend happened before she came here.

As for Ace, when at any point was he in the dressing room? He wasn’t there when Teruko, Hu, and Whit had outfit changes or after it. So I’m confused about where Ace could’ve known about the clothes and got them to form the ball. And the ball has to be important as otherwise why is it there? It needs to be used for some part of the murder we haven’t figured out(my guess is it was used to knock out Arei) as I doubt the Dev would’ve just added a useless piece of evidence(even in DR there wasn’t evidence that was useless or not used). The only thing I’m confused about is how Eden got the turpentine, but idk how Ace would’ve either.

Reason 4: Fricken David

Okay I know this is David we’re talking about here and we know he’s a lying scumbag who tried manipulating everyone into committing mass suicide to follow in what he thinks Xander wanted to do to end the killing game. But I don’t think he’s lying about seeing Arei first. As much David trying to get everyone killed here(which causes more doubt of agreeing with J on he could be lying AND putting the idea into Teruko’s head that “Oh you want to distrust others, it’s the only thing you can do” which would motivate her into trusting Eden), I think he’s serious about Arei. If David truly didn’t care about Arei, then why were we shown that flashback that continued off of the conversation Arei and David had that Ace overheard?

David thought back on that moment when Arei confided in him that she was relieved they were the same and that maybe they could be friends while learning to be less shitty together. He even lied to Eden that nothing else happened because he didn’t want to share that moment or possibly give despair to Eden about what happened between them.

Even before when he had his fake persona on, the way he reacted about Arei dying and in the trial of his feelings towards the killer…I feel like it’s one of the rare times he’s being genuine about his feelings here. Arei was someone who understood him and could’ve helped him as a friend…to only lose her the next day. Of course, he’d be pissed and upset. I can even believe he did see her first because in disbelief or upset that he lost the only person who truly knew and understood him. Following I wrote out the dialogue word for word of the scene where David describes how Arei could’ve fallen for the note, him showing disgust for the killer, and even Eden showing regret in thinking this(which before we thought was just about the note, but now…she might’ve meant that as “I killed Arei and all she wanted to do was change…but I didn’t give her that chance….it is my fault”).

David: What kind of person would fall for such an obvious trap? You’d have to be shortsighted, naive, foolish, senseless, downright idiotic.. Unless, of course, you were Arei

David: That girl wanted desperately to prove herself as a “friend” to Eden. And yet she completely lacked any experience with what “friends” were actually like.

David: Of course it never occurred to her that handling out suspicious notes was something that normal people did. What could she know about “friendship” after all? Someone like her, who had not once experienced kindness in entire her life up until now?

David: Even if she had her misgivings about something so suspicious, she must have pushed it aside due to her unwavering faith in her blossoming friendship. A friendship that she didn’t understand in the slightest.

David: It’s…it’s so…Ahaha. It’s just so foolish. For someone to take advantage of Arei like that….

David: It’s absolutely unforgivable. All she wanted was to change. What a reprehensible person this killer is. I look forward to seeing their painful execution.

Eden: …So then…It really is my fault…isn’t it? She died because she believed in me

With David’s expression throughout this entire scene even if this was before he revealed his true colors. It shows signs of his true self and how much he really loathes the person who killed Arei. He knows personally that she wanted to change and that she understood him. There’s no way by now he’s making it up that he didn’t see her body with knowing how much emotion he has in his facial expression and dialogue in this scene. It also really doesn’t help Eden’s case of seeming so regretful after this.

Reason 5: The theme of the chapter overall

Okay, so I think ultimately to me at least, why it doesn’t seem like Ace would fit as the culprit of this chapter is due to its theme. The theme is “There are no good or bad people” and “Everyone is not always what they seem”. We see throughout this chapter that every character we thought was a “good person” is slowly showing their flaws and even turning out to have some darkness in them.

We thought Levi was just an awkward guy who wanted to be helpful to others around him, turns out he killed 4 people(one is his dad) and barely remembers it because no one he cares about as the concept of caring for others is foreign to him and he just tries to copies others to try to be good. Nico seems like a shy person who struggles to defend themself from bullies like Ace. Nico then literally tries to murder Ace and almost does, while admitting(with regret) that they did try to kill Ace because Ace reminded them of their traumatic past with their peers, teachers, and father. David is the biggest example of someone we thought cared about giving inspirational speeches to others to turn out to be a manipulative jerk who might be suffering from depression(if he was telling the truth which I think he was to some extent). Even others had their moments too with Arturo being revealed to have guilt over his sister dying because he left and threatening Eden to keep it secret, Veronika only doing her talent to prevent herself from self-harming her, and even Hu showing her flaws of trying to be useful and letting her ego get the best of her in defending the wrong people.

So looking at both of our two culprits, Eden fits to be the main culprit. Before all of the reveals and Arei’s revelation about good and bad, I felt like the characters were categorized into two groups. The “Saints/Good people” and “The jerks/irredeemable ones”. Like what Arei said, she thought people like Eden and David were the ideal good people to look up to or to be, while someone like her who had a rough start and ended up as a jerk cannot ever be good. To assume that means not seeing any of the other cast people as people generally can either be good or bad or even neither(morally grey).

We see the flaws of who we thought was the ideal good or potentially good person of David, Hu, Nico, or Levi while seeing there’s more than what meets the eye to the jerk group of Arturo, Ace, and Arei(the triple A battery squad lol). Eden is the only person left in the cast we haven’t seen(not counting her being responsible for Xander’s eye as only us the audience seen that) whose main flaws or her status as a good person is broken. I’m not saying Eden has to be the culprit to reveal she was secretly evil all this time! But she has to be the culprit because she has yet to be shown as human as Arei is. Ace started as a jerk and while still is, we get hints and see how his situation is a tragic one. Like Arei, he probably had a bad start in life or before this killing game that affected him. His worst enemies are himself and the others, he has no one to defend his side for who he is to them. Despite the fact, that he’s a victim of an almost murder attempt on his life and even a victim of an eating disorder that is eating away from his body and mind. Ace unlike Eden or Nico doesn’t have someone willing to defend him or speak up for him when in trouble. The one person he did think he had was Levi, but that was just a projection.

Eden on the other hand I feel like what’s not talked about her is her main flaw of being “weak” and relying on others.

Examples:

▪️Ep 9 when Eden says “Teruko! Back me up!” “You’re smart and you always know what evidence to use during the class trial so find a way to show everyone they’re wrong about Arei!” “Please! I’m relying on you!”

▪️Ep 10 when Eden says “If I was strong enough…If I didn’t need Arei to help me…” and Arei saying “Just as I thought, you’re pathetic and weak, and you always need to rely on others to get by”

In a sense, this parallels Nico who attempted to murk Ace because others had to pick up their battle and Ace called them weak for not being able to stand up for themselves. Eden for all we know might’ve gone through the same thing when Arei yelled at her and it resulted in her planning Arei’s demise. Like Nico, she probably regrets it now. But unlike them, Eden isn’t admitting to this flaw of being the cause of this situation and is trying to rely on others like Teruko to defend her from being accused of Arei’s murder. Even down to doing the same hug that Min did to Teruko previous chapter.

Another point to add is that with the previous points showing a bit of Eden showing guilt. I can possible see her main motive of killing Arei is because of not believing her at the time. Even Arei notes this in ep10

Arei: That look you’re giving me…You don’t believe me, do you? Figures.

Arei: I’ve been so shitty and manipulative this whole time. It’s only fair that you think I’m only putting on another fake act to make people like me.

Ultimately to fit what Arei said even someone as sickeningly sweet as Eden had done something bad, which makes her human. Eden I feel has to be the culprit as what would Ace fit in this? It would just feel like Arei’s words meant nothing and Ace was the irredeemable jerk the whole time who “got what he deserved” despite not having anyone to reach out to him like David did for Arei.

Hooboy that was long. Like I say this may not be perfect in terms of defense of Ace and might not fully cement Eden as the culprit. For all we know, there could be a secret third option. Plus there still isn’t a full explanation for some parts like how both parties got the turpentine or Eden’s stalker(tbh tho I could just see her being paranoid it’s Arturo and Bro is stalking J so). But I just wanted to share my piece as I think part 2 of ch.2 did make me see Ace in a different light and Eden too, to where I wanted to at least give Ace a defense the best I could because he doesn’t have anyone on his side. Along with highlight parts of Eden’s character I feel needs adjust for why she could be the culprit. Anyway, might make more post stuff on analyzing Ace or other parts of the case. If you have any thoughts, share them! As long we’re all civil and just having fun with this tragically emotional case, I’m happy to hear others' thoughts on who dunnit. Thanks for reading!^^

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #drdt spoilers #eden tobisa #ace markey #arei nageishi #david chiem #Only tagging those four since they’re very important for this discussion #Man I tell you my emotions were HIGH last night and heart was beating after everything that happened #I really do hate that Eden and Ace are our last suspects of who dunnit #I will cry if either of them are the culprit regardless of who

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theredtours · 1 year

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We had a big long talk. We’re on the same page again. I don’t like where the story is headed, but at least I can take some solace in knowing there is no animosity.

#but it would’ve been fun if you would’ve been the 1 #personal #text

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sea-jello · 1 year

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wouldn’t it be fun if the squip not only optic blocked michael but also made jeremy completely forget about him

#has this been done before #like #he has access to his memories i’m assuming #if he made jeremy think/feel like he was completely friendless #and without anything or anyone holding him back it would’ve been even easier #that also means unless the squip lies to him (which he could and does i’m pretty sure) jeremy chooses to forget about michael #if he does lie to him and jeremy only agrees to optic block him then it’s ‘optic nerve blocking on’#and ‘click’ 12 years of his life with michael gone just like that #and he doesn’t even realise #he meets michael in the bathroom and he’s slowly like ‘i know you. you’re very familiar to me but i have no idea who you are’#cause the squip is off and i doubt 12 years of memories can just come back in a snap #that’s also why he has no idea why ‘get out of my way loser’ is so emotionally devastating to michael #cause he has no memories of michael mell as a person at all #no matter how familiar he feels he’s just a guy in a bathroom. and that’s all he’ll be #would make for some fun angst content no #man my tags are really where all the interesting stuff is huh #tags compared to the post is a 12 to 1 ratio #anyways feel free to steal the idea idk if i’m gonna do anything with it #cant draw cant write #but like tell me if you do yk #bmc #be more chill #jeremy heere #michael mell #bmc jeremy #jeremy bmc #bmc michael #michael bmc #boyf riends #<- that would make it even WORSE

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deus-ex-mona · 9 months

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me when the bacteria c o l o n i s e s

#m a n. i thought that the sample would turn out negative for bacteria (like the rest have been for the past. what. year and a quarter(?))#esp since the agar testing stick things used were freshly expired (thanks for the expired reagents workplace; cost cutting ftw!!!!)#but. ewwwwwwwwwwww it actually grewwwwwwwwwwww #and the small stick thing was covered from like top to bottom in countless dark red colonies. ewwwwwwwwww #all the other agar stick things were completely clean though so it was def a problem with the sample and not with my handling of the agar #in any case!!!!!!! it was the first time i saw a positive for bacteria growth on a sample and!!!!#it was also my first time reporting the results for this test!!!! without any of the test-familiar staff around!!! so!!!!! not fun!!!!!!!!#i didn’t even k n o w what they meant when they asked to ‘describe the colour/appearance of the colonies’ bc the managers’ expectations are.#just. *weird*. sometimes. ughhhhhh im ready for the inevitable groupchat callout on tuesday with ‘who taught you to report like this????’s #well e x c u s e me for not knowing sir you never taught me how to report colony growths or anything auauaaaaaaaaaa #but is ok!!!!!! i’m taking tuesday off anyway!!!! it’ll be the tuesday workers’ problem now!!!!!!!! good luck guys!!!!!!!#at least there was no fungi either… now *that* would’ve been extra gross #the bio class flashbacks were r e a l today… thank god i don’t ever have to open that stupid pharmacopoeia ever again #also reminds me of (one of) my stupidest moments in a bio class though…#back in the days of yore (read: anatomy class in the year of ‘17) i was an absolutely horrible student who’d never fail to nap in class #so when my lecturer asked connecting questions down the class register…#yk stuff like asking student 1 to ‘name a type of cell’ and then asking student 2 to ‘name an organelle that a [student 1’s cell] contains’#he asked the girl before me to name a hormone. she answered ‘growth hormone’. and i was like. dammit. idk where it’s found. lolhelp.#(bc i never read ahead either + the growth hormone didn’t even show up in lessons during that school term)#so when he inevitably asked me to ‘name the organ that produces the growth hormone’ i answered (exact quote) ‘i don’t know; the ovaries????’#the class laughed. sad. the lecturer retorted with sth like ‘then are you saying that boys can’t grow?’ and i just shrugged #the girl after me (who incidentally has the same first+last name as me phonetically speaking) gave him the right answer thoughhhh #i hope i managed to buy my name twin enough time to look up the correct answer (if she didn’t already know it) with my stupid guess #yeahhhhhh i do n o t miss bio class. at all. giggity #anyways that’s enough flashback sequences for one year. can’t believe the next year’s less than 10 days away tbh. can’t wait!!!!!!!!

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the-hopeless-haze · 1 year

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Friends breakup friends get married strangers get born and strangers get buried trends change rumors fly through new skies but IM RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME FOR REAL

#right where you left me #taylor swift #im just never getting over her am I???#not to be dramatic (to be absolutely fucking dramatic)#I had a dream about her again last night and god it’s haunted me since #she went to my orchestra concert that is tomorrow and we argued #and we both cried and then I was like ‘so tell me did you feel the same way about me though?’#and she said yes #she said she loved me :(#but she hated me after what I did #this was. five years ago now #anyway #I knew you’d haunt all of my what ifs #did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion #she’s still 23 in her fantasy #like it was supposed to be :(#and in my dreams I’ll be touching your face #it would’ve been fun if you would’ve been the 1 #Christ almighty #I am feeling gay and depressed in this Chili’s tonight #I love you buspar but I hate you for these dreams it felt SO real

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no1ryomafan · 10 months

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We’re gonna ignore the fact it’s nearly 3 am while I type this but I’m gonna for once embrace my true cringe-I say as cringe is dead-and admit at least here since I said it on twit but not everyone follows me there that I’ve been cooking up a getter crossover fic with mega man ZX of all things. Why? Well next to mega man being what truly sparked my obsession for robots and ZX is my favorite series of the franchise there is a scary amount of similarities between the two that a crossover unironically fucking works well. Like I don’t think it was anything intentional, ZX definitely has some mecha influence like every other mega man series but it was more so (obviously) inspired off of toku if we focus on an genre in Japan. However both in a way can be boiled down to “humanity’s future is tied directly to machines” and “destiny is my path to choose” in terms of narrative themes so they legit stick together sososso well.

(also I noticed like- Arma!Kei and Go and Ashe and Grey are almost scarily fucking similar minus Ashe&Grey actually getting to know each other since that sadly doesn’t happen-in the manga they do meet but they aren’t related rip-in game but I might need to save that for a different post even though it’s not at all in the au since there’s no place for it I just I rotate it constantly)

Me and my beta reader were so insane enough that for nearly a YEAR we figured out this au because it was just “what if ryoma but in ZX” for the longest fucking time I’m not fucking exaggerating because it’s a semi trend of mine to want to throw ryoma into other series even if I’ve mostly restrained myself with this 💀 But when the fic is up I will likely be tagging it under ZXG so it’s easy to organize so yeah.

#meg text #fanfic rambles #au rambles #crossover au #getter robo #mega man zx #also chapter 1 has been written but idk when this is going up #mainly because my life is gonna be busy and I just finished another chapter fic #so I should rest even if the worms are tingling #I’ve been like- scared to admit this because the getter tag is filled with crossovers and I was the first to not write one #but this au is different ig since I’m actually using the getter cast which NONE of the crossovers ever do #and this isn’t to throw shade bc I’m not gonna judge someone’s work but man if I don’t hate that trend #Also ZX tag also has this issue but the difference is before I came you could actually find fics in that tag #It’s main writer is just someone writing omega fics which good for them but hey there’s a good zx3 fic there #oh and I would’ve made a tag for this au sooner but I’m so slow with digital art *sobs*#I mainly do sketches but even then I haven’t drawn this au ENOUGH but I should more #the designs I made are legitimately fun and more easier on my art style #esp when hayato isn’t a fucking pain in the ASS for once to draw #oh and I need to make a “is that a ZXG reference?!” Meme with ooc spoilers sometime soon #just to confuse people and give them a idea wtf I’m planning

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omotelie · 17 days

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WHERE’S MY FUKING CAPO

#my post #funny #relatable #guitar #music #bjork #wait you can only have 30 tags the joke is much less funny if i don’t have a fucking wall of the stuff i guess i’ll just make this one reall #and 140 characters per tag this is stifling my creativity meh i was running out of popular tags anyway bjork’s not that popular of a tag tho #tbh i was running out of inspiration after like the 4 tag this joke was not meant to be at least not by my hand and i guess it wasn’t that f #unny either i cooled down real fast on that one you know what i’m pivoting this is no longer popular tags just my train of thought for as lo #ng as i feel like it the first few one might not even make sense when i’m done but who cares not me clearly it is quite annoying how i can’t #use commas tho make’s this harder to read than it needs to any way i lost my capo for like the third time my desk isn’t even that messy but #don’t know where else i would’ve put it it’s not lying on any of my instruments either i probably put it quote somewhere i would remember un #quote but clearly i didn’t i’m usually very good at remembering where i put things put the capo is the zone in between i use this often and #i use this every other year so i never remember where it is stored it is 1 am so i guess i’m going to bed soon anyway but still this is goin #g to annoy me until tomorrow i don’t even need it right i’ve had to remove so many tags the original joke barely makes sense anymore i’m kee #ping bjork tho you can pry her out of my cold dead hands not that i really listen to her music or know her i just like saying her name i’ts #got good mouth feel and it’s fun to spell i didn’t realize how long filling 30 tags would be what’s 140 times 30 let me look it up 4200 this #makes this post my biggest project by like 3000 words the only time i’ve written any meaningful lengths of texts was in college and i’m a dr #opout what 4200 characters not words silly little me makes a lot more sense now that i think about it i’m getting tired of writing so this m #ay end soon i would like to not go to bed at 4 am for a silly little post 2 people are going to read plus i am running out of ideas of thing #s to write i am very much not a writer writing scares me even writing lyrics for songs terrifies me i’ve only manage to write lyrics for one #without getting too self conscious and imploding but i’m better at writing songs with vocals i’ve never had anyone to write music with and w #ithout the ability to sing or write lyrics it’s been difficult the singing has been more or less remedied with synth v but the puter can’t w #rite lyrics for meso until i get a lyricist friend i will have to toughen up you can’t make art without making yourself known to those who c #onsume it but lyrics and poetry has always been 1 step too far for me tbh i’d rather spontaneously combust rather than let people know me i #do not look at my very numerous in stars and time posts and reblogs they are completely unrelated to this don’t think about it oh look behin #d you there’s a distraction oh you’ve missed it i have been writing this for half an hour and i am getting so sick of it i revealed informat #ion about the inner machinations of my mind i have not done this since last time i saw a therapist 5 years ago this is fucked up what a self #impose writing challenge can do to you luckily this is the last tag i’m doing lucky me well this was fun this is going to end suddenly so do

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akechi-if-he-slayed · 1 month

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persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different,

would everything be different, today?

#dont mind me im jus in my t swizzle guttural scream singing mood atm #why would she write that. WHY would she WRITE that. imgonnabesick…#but it would’ve been fun. if you would’ve been the one !#the 1 #taylor swift

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gutsby · 7 months

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Trigger Tease

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your honeymoon from hell takes you straight to a strip club south of Madripoor, where Bucky teaches you how to give a lap dance, shoot a gun, and kill a man all in one night—and maybe agree to have his baby, too.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Oral (m! & f!receiving). Sex in a sauna. Sex in a strip club. Praise & degradation. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Double homicide. Dickriding. Beefy, mob boss Bucky hates birth control and bad men—loves babies and killing HYDRA operatives for his wife.

Descriptions of violence throughout

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Roleplay was fun—even vital for a marriage like yours.

Only instead of assuming the role of sexy masseuse, strong and strapping CEO, hands-on handyman, or some naughty professor with a knack for after-class punishment, Bucky got to play a bloodlusting assassin.

‘Winter Soldier’ didn’t have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, but that was no matter. What counted now was making the shot, and getting it right.

You sincerely hoped you wouldn’t fuck this up.

It was no secret that the Barnes’ bloodline was steeped in dealing, stealing, gunslinging, and laundering cash. Staggering privilege, too. From the sandy shores of Curaçao to Luxembourg and Guinea-Bissau, any living heir to the dynasty could have expected to find safe refuge and respect just about anywhere that they went. It was all but engrained in their DNA at this point.

All that is to say, Bucky had no trouble finding a foreign hideaway in a pinch. He liked the Swiss Alps the best.

After your short and sweet conversation with ‘Joey’ over the phone—HYDRA hijacking the intercom system—he and Sam and Steve had made the split-second decision to reroute the plane to Zürich, and now you were here.

72 hours into a four-day ticking time bomb and totally clueless as to how you might stave off impending death, and mitigate other casualties, the best that you could.

The stress fucking with Bucky made it worth it, though.

In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing that day, you’d found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time lately: pinned against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.

“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.

You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.

“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”

This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.

The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.

“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.

After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.

Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.

“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”

You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?

“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.

“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.

In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure all the while. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was far better sustenance to him than the whole fucking meal he’d eaten that morning.

Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.

You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.

“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”

“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

“Everything OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.

Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.

He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.

“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”

“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”

Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.

“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”

You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.

“Another,” you choked, not thinking.

Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.

Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.

“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.

“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”

Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.

“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.

You opted to pull at his hair instead.

Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.

“I said how many?” he pressed again.

“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.

Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt at a rapid-fire pace. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.

“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”

“Bucky—”

“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”

Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.

He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.

Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.

“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”

But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.

Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”

“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.

Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over. Bucky soaked in your every sound, and the few tears that would inevitably spring to your eyes, like sweet nectar.

You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouth and his and pushed them past your parted lips.

“Suck,” Bucky said, clenching his jaw as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”

You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.

That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.

He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.

“I need to fuck you now.”

Bucky’s words couldn’t have hung in the fog-infested air for more than a millisecond or two before he had you back in his arms and carried to the far end of the sauna.

At the door—or, rather, on it—with your back flush against the wood, you felt Bucky pin you in place with his hips and press his erection to that soft, cramped space between your bodies. You tightened your legs around his middle and sucked in a breath when you felt him pulse.

Then the head of his cock was circling that slick, taut ring of muscles like all hope for his future happiness lay there: right between your legs in the softest and sweetest recesses of your body he could reach. His eyes could’ve been engulfed in flames and still not betrayed a fraction of the smouldering desire that lay behind them now—he drank you in with a single look and sighed.

“Can I— do it, now?” The term ‘fucking’ swiftly lost all lustre when he was an inch from your heat and ready to press in; he just needed to be in you, a part of you, now.

“Yeah,” you breathed. You pressed your forehead to his.

Bucky ran his tip once more down your slit and had just begun to ease his hips forward when a moan snagged in his throat. He braced you firmer against the door, letting your arms drape over his shoulders, and was just about to slide his length inside of you, then—

Thump, thump, thump.

Three knocks in quick succession.

You jumped, the sudden raps reverberating up the door.

Bucky held you to him, tight, and planted a hand beside your head as if to hold the whole frame still. Then, through gritted teeth,

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Need you downstairs. Now.”

It was Sam.

“Can it wait?”

“No.”

Bucky frowned. Scratched the wood surface reflexively.

“Can it…wait?” he tried again, tone laden with a silent but pointed, ‘Is it urgent enough to drag me away from my wife when I’m less than an inch away from being seven inside her?’ Evidently, Sam got the gist, or was just keen to get him out, because he returned, quick:

“Yeah. Legal’s here.”

‘Shit’ was Bucky’s wordless expression below you.

Then a ‘Shit, shit, shit, just shoot me now’ kind of look that raised an eyebrow on your own frazzled face.

Wasn’t the arrival of Bucky’s legal team a good thing? He’d been agonizing for days, badgering Sam and Steve to no end over when they’d hear back from his retinue, and here they were. You couldn’t ask just yet, as your husband was lowering you to the floor and stepping back from the door, chest racked with a shuddering breath, but you wanted to know. You reached for a towel.

“Fine. Fuck. I’ll be right out.” As it was, Bucky had chosen to forgo the dry-off altogether and just started chucking clothes on his body, eyes roaming all over.

You turned from the sound of Sam’s retreating steps and found him moving fast, graceless—shoulders hunched, head bowed, pants wrestled almost angrily up his legs. He found his balance, barely, bracing his weight against the sink, then nearly tore the porcelain fixture off the wall with how hard he kicked it trying to get his left shoe on.

He muscled into his dress shirt and flushed bright red.

In a second, you had either side of the crisp white button-up between your hands, frowning.

“Any reason why we’re so upset?” you asked after a beat.

Bucky puffed a short breath over your head as you secured the first button. Then the next. Then the next.

“What? Apart from the fact I’m not balls deep and about to give you your fourth orgasm?” he grumbled.

You shot him a look.

“I mean it’s— not ideal, getting a visit at a time like this,” Bucky continued once he’d sufficiently contained half a smirk and could don a more serious look, “If we were getting any good news they would’ve just called.”

Hell, great news could’ve made it in an email. The whole aggregate of his legal team taking the trip from Brooklyn to Zürich meant that shit had most likely hit the fan in a big way. Bucky wasn’t thrilled to learn the ‘how’ just yet.

Instead, he cupped your cheek in one hand and brushed his thumb along its curve once you’d made it to the last button of his shirt. He started to lean in, hoping to delay the briefing downstairs with a quick diversion to your lips, but he stopped about an inch away from your face.

You’d lowered your touch, slipping it under the band of his boxers. He was still as hard as you’d felt him last.

Bucky let out a grunt when your fingertips grazed the soft tufts of hair adorning that part of his abdomen. He sucked in a breath when they sank even further.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you said, voice dulcet and slow as you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft.

Again, a sound rumbled deep inside Bucky’s chest, and the thumb resting on your cheek stirred. In fact, it had no other choice—your head was starting to move.

Descending, slowly. Sinking to the floor in front of him. Positioning yourself right above the bulge in his pants.

Now Bucky’s palm was laying flat on your head, resting light as it ever had while you drew him even closer.

“Baby—”

“Yeah?” you hummed, just then tugging him out and bringing your mouth to the swollen, leaking head. Bucky gripped a good handful of your hair and rutted his hips without meaning to, and you smiled, “Can’t have my husband showing up hard as a rock to his meeting.”

You were right. There was no way Bucky was getting rid of this wood without the help of his hand or one of your holes. And, under any set of circumstances, he would’ve much preferred the latter to the former. He groaned when you took his tip to your lips and stroked him softly.

You made remarkably quick work of the man with just a minute or two, your mouth, your hand, and a tiny bit of spit—a record-breaking feat, Bucky had thought to himself with some embarrassment. But you weren’t concerned with his stamina in the slightest, focusing instead on the ways in which you might maximize his pleasure in the same way he’d done for you. Stretching your lips, loosening your jaw, and taking him down as far and as frequently as you could manage without gagging around him, you had him good. Deep. All but aching for release as he took a firm hold of the sink behind him.

“That’s a—fuck, that’s a good…fuckin’ girl.”

You bobbed your head once or twice more, flitting your gaze to his face, and felt the warmth unload in ropes—glazing your throat and every soft, square inch of your mouth as he did. Practically flooding your tongue with his cum. Bucky groaned and made a fist in your hair.

“Baby…shit,” came the sound of disbelief under his breath when you pulled off just enough to breathe.

You were careful how you took in air; flaring your nostrils the slightest bit, feeling a twitch at the corners of your lips as you tried not to smirk. Then, with an obscene sort of precision and purpose, you gave something else a try.

You stuck your tongue out at Bucky to show him the warm, oozing load he’d just left in your mouth.

Your husband’s response was immediate: evidently, he loved nothing more than a show of himself inside you, displayed like a prize between your two rows of teeth. You watched him grit his own to suppress a moan.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethed. Still reeling from his high.

Then he paused, in awe for a second, before dropping one finger to your mouth and swirling his touch along the sticky, opaque puddle resting over your tongue.

You closed your lips around him, snug, and held his gaze.

A weaker man might have come undone. Bucky just let out a breath and smiled.

“If you wanna play show-and-tell with my cum I can find someplace to put that, doll,” he said, low as ever, then,

“C’mere.”

You didn’t need the powers of telepathy to understand what he’d meant. Should’ve known better than to dip your toe in the cumplay game with a man who arguably harbored the world’s biggest breeding kink and really wanted to knock you up. The realization had you back on your feet in an instant. Having swallowed fast, pried your lips off his digit with a pop, and licked the corners of your mouth, you rose without the threat of a second thought.

Your pale yellow dress was the first thing you grabbed—the first thing Bucky tried to yank off of your body when you’d slipped it up your legs and staggered backward.

“Not happening, Barnes,” you giggled, pretending not to see him advance when you stepped back.

But Bucky had never been big on civility in times like these. He lunged forward and nearly tore the barely-zipped frock off your frame, eliciting a shriek and another arch look from you as you started toward the door.

You were amazed you made it through—your husband had had to stop to tuck his dick back in his pants before stumbling after you—but when you took off down the hall, you knew it was only a matter of time before you heard his footsteps thundering fast after your own.

The tips of your toes had just barely grazed the first step down the stairs when hands seized your hips. You yelped.

“BUCKY!”

Whether on account of your own practiced agility, or the fact that Bucky’s palms were still sticky and slick with his sweat, you managed to wrest yourself out of his grip just long enough to get a start down the stairs.

“COME HERE!” Bucky boomed loud, trying his hardest not to laugh as he chased after you.

You screamed without meaning to. Yanked your wrist out of his reach when you’d made it to the bottom of the stairs and felt your husband close the distance in quick. You tried to be firm, insistent, primed with the kind of fine and unfuckwithable attitude that signaled you meant business. You didn’t, though—the series of giggles bubbling up in your chest said as much.

You descended the last step with a hitch, almost losing your shit within a foot of the landing, when Bucky scooped you up in his arms and held on tight. His lips were at your ear in a second, breaths coming in quick.

“Hell, I’ll give you one right here, honey,” he sneered before flipping you back around to face him.

He pressed you flush to the wrought iron railing, then over it, pushing you back bit-by-bit until you had no choice but to jump and latch your legs around his hips.

“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t—”

“Give you a baby right now?”

“—get off of me!” You were laughing now, squirming when he nipped at the space just below your ear.

One more second and he might’ve convinced you. Your Bucky was persuasive like that, too smug and self-assured for his own good but one hell of an advocate when he wanted to be. At length, he opened his mouth to take an even bigger, teasing bite, when a voice cut in,

“Barnes.”

He stopped. You froze. Together, you reluctantly turned your heads in the direction of the sound and found a keystone conference table situated at the far end of the room—seating a dozen-odd faces with identical, muted expressions of surprise. Mild discomfort, for some.

Wild discomfort for your mother and father, you saw.

Bucky set you down and simultaneously yanked the hem of your dress back into place. Flashed a smile for the ages and snaked an arm around your waist as he started to lead you over.

“Nat! Hi,” he tried, far too casual, “Long time no see.”

You bit the inside of your cheek hard and hoped like hell your husband had remembered to zip up his pants.

The woman at the head of the table—the source of the voice you’d heard—raised a brow. One cherry-red curl from her sleek, cropped bob threatened to fall out of place as she tilted her face to regard you both. The smile Bucky proffered had done nothing to repair her glare.

Some wordless exchange passed between the two of them, and next, you felt a hand directing you to a seat across the way—Steve. Smug as ever. Smirking just then.

The empty chair beside your mother. The horror.

You were dimly aware of some introductions being made on your behalf and a round of awkward, disjointed congratulations around the table. Greetings from Nat, Sam, Steve—conceited little shit—a few you knew as Bucky’s groomsmen, a couple members of the security detail, and several more friendly, unfamiliar faces, including a smartly dressed blond named Sharon. Your husband had taken a seat by the latter at the end of the table.

“Momma.” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to whisper when the attention had turned back to Natasha and other matters, but you did, “Where have you been?”

Your mother and father were perched in their chairs like prisoners. There were no shackles to be seen but an air of discomfiture and compulsion bound to their every feature. You couldn’t be sure if it was humiliation on your behalf—they had just witnessed their son-in-law promise to put a baby in you for all present to hear—or something more.

For once in your life, you hoped it was just the prudish, sex-averse tendencies of the two rendering them silent.

You tried your mother again when she hadn’t responded.

“Momma.”

“Now is not the time.”

Her voice was clipped. Abrasive.

You knew better than to test that tone another time. You sank back in your seat and let your gaze roam the table, flitting between your father and Bucky a few more times than it probably should have. Surely, your dad, who had screwed Bucky over to hell and back, obliterated your wedding, and jeopardized your lives for a few more million in his pocket would have warranted some sidelong, hateful look from your husband. A glance or a stare, certainly something to show that he knew, and hadn’t forgotten.

No—Bucky was occupied with Sharon at the moment.

You watched your father twist his signet ring on his pinky, jerking the gold back and forth as if hoping for it to break, or save him. He didn’t look at Bucky, either.

“Natasha Romanoff is the Barnes’ retained legal talent for all things maritime crime and narcotics trade-related. Some estate planning, too,” a voice rumbled beside you.

You made a low ‘Hm’ to feign understanding of whatever the fuck Steve had just said, and nodded.

Then, when your eyes wandered left again,

“Sharon Carter, criminal liaison and kingpin informant. Been in bed with the Barnes’ as long as I can remember.”

He really couldn’t have used a worse string of words if he had tried. You cocked your head just slightly and stared at the pair. You considered holding your tongue.

“And she’s been in bed with Bucky how often before?” You’d decided against self-restraint for the time being.

Steve blinked a little harder.

“What do y—”

“I’m not asking if, but when, they fucked,” you interrupted.

Steve blinked again, as if to clear a string of cobwebs from his eyes, and couldn’t quite find the words to answer your question. Either the truth or some half-baked crock of bullshit—there was no in between.

“Once,” he answered, at length. Honest.

You figured as much.

In any other situation where you were faced with one of Bucky’s former fuckbuddies, you probably would’ve felt more than a twinge of jealousy. Might’ve even cast a dark look in the girl’s direction and willed her not to even breathe the same air as him. Then you remembered you weren’t fourteen years old and could behave with some modicum of maturity when it came to some old flame of your husband. They weren’t even sitting that close.

You winced when Bucky gave her shoulder a playful squeeze, though. That facial tic you couldn’t control.

“So to recap,” Natasha announced, having just plodded through a few dull formalities up front, “Barnes got the intercom call from Schröder at 1500 hours, Friday.”

Every head nodded.

“Schröder gave Barnes exactly ninety-six hours to recover the $90 million lost in the…mishap, in Brooklyn—” Natasha’s eyes flickered to your father no longer than a second, “—and today is Monday. We have twenty-four hours to come up with the funds, or face the…penalties of Schröder’s exploding offer. Whatever those may be.”

You knew what ‘those’ were. Ms. Romanoff was either too kind or too diplomatic to say it, you reckoned, but the threat Joey Schröder had made to Bucky had been patently clear: procure the cash or your wife’s family dies.

That was why you’d been so surprised to see your mother and father seated at the table that morning—Schröder had further stipulated that there was to be no contact between you and your parents in the time it took to come up with the money. You’d been completely cut off, in the Alps, since the day of the attack, left to wonder without reprieve whether HYDRA’s bloodless henchmen had taken hostages of your parents, let them abscond to Brooklyn, or simply killed them both and sent the rest of you all on a wild goose chase to get hold of the money.

Now if they’d only had sex once, why was she looking at him like that?—The intruding thought couldn’t be helped when you peered over again—Surely the most platonic and professional working relationships didn’t call for looks like that.

Shut the fuck up. Shut the entire fuck up, please.

The lives of those closest to you were on the line and all you could think now was how well you compared to this random woman in giving Bucky head? Brain fucking rot.

You scrunched your nose and turned back to Natasha.

“…and up until this morning, Schröder’s whereabouts were unknown,” she continued, careful as she spoke.

It seemed that part had caught Bucky’s attention, too, because he was tilting his head away from Sharon and shifting his gaze to the woman at the head of the table.

“And now?” he cut in.

“I’m getting there, James.”

Sharon smiled a little at that, tracing her nail on the notepad in front of her. She muttered something to Bucky, who disregarded her remark entirely.

“Do we know where Schröder is?” he barked.

Across the table, Sam shifted in his seat. He glanced to Natasha, then Sharon.

“I believe we have modestly reliable intel—” he began, only to have his speech mowed over by an impatient, increasingly irate Bucky.

“No. No— we don’t do ‘modestly reliable’ for this, Sam. We either know where the fuck the guy is or we don’t.”

That last fragment seemed to hang in the air a couple seconds longer than needed, and a tense silence fell over the table. It took a new voice—one you hadn’t heard much at all yourself—to reignite the conversation.

“I know it,” Sharon said, “I know he’s in Madripoor.”

Madripoor? The make-believe safe haven for terrorists? You couldn’t tell if she was kidding at first. Then Bucky flitted a look to the side, and his expression was grave. Natasha’s, too. Maybe there was a Madripoor after all.

“Or he will be there, most likely, tomorrow night,” Steve interjected. The hands that had been folded neatly in front of him were now tapping a light and mindless beat on the table, “He’s got the Foxy Den rented out for a…thing.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Where else but a titty bar would Joey host his ‘things’?” he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

So Madripoor was real, and it had strip clubs. Wonderful.

It seemed Natasha was keen to regain control of the conversation, because she presently broke in,

“Keep in mind that time is of the essence—a private flight from here to the Indonesian archipelago is sixteen hours minimum. We most likely can’t afford to fly private, b—”

“Since when the fuck can’t I afford to fly private?” Bucky spat.

You hated how short and plainly nasty he was being to all those around him. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought these folks were at fault somehow, but they weren’t. Your father, the real culprit, was sitting right under Bucky’s nose, and he wouldn’t even look in his general direction. Your husband flared his nostrils with a new surge of indignation, and Sharon patted his hand.

“She’s not talking finances, bub,” the blond started, “She’s saying your jet is on a no-fly list, we don’t have time to charter a new plane, and there’s a hefty fucking bounty on your head if you ever set foot in Madripoor. We need to get you on a commercial flight, undercover.”

“Fuck that.” Bucky’s response was reflexive. He rose fast.

If your parents could have appeared any more stiff and uncomfortable you might have mistaken them for two charming, thoroughly terrified wax figures. Your father continued to fiddle with his ring as he watched Bucky.

Natasha tensed as well. As soon as Bucky was up on his feet, pacing around at the end of the table, she was urging him to relax, Buck, this isn’t anything we haven’t done before—sit down, please. Bucky didn’t sit, and he most certainly didn’t relax, but he did kick a stool across the room.

“I am not going back to that shithole.”

The stool tumbled onto its side, one leg splintered in half. You made a mental note to look into some anger management classes. Your parents, along with most of the table, flinched at the crashing sound, while your husband stood, supremely agitated, and did not even regard the broken chair. He turned away from Natasha.

“Yeah, well, that ‘shithole’ is our only hope of getting Schröder behind bars and you out of custody, Bucky,” Natasha called as he started to pace away.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Bucky tilted his head to the side. He contemplated snagging a bottle of Macallan 25 off the bar cart by the window but decided against it.

“Have you been listening to a word of what I’ve said all weekend?” Natasha returned, almost as biting, “Turned on MSNBC or CNN or any other news outlet in the last forty-eighty hours?”

She dropped her own notepad on the table and scanned the area in search of something else. Sam and Steve took that as their opportunity to jump in.

“Bucky,” Sam started, calmly, “There were over a dozen foreign attachés and two heads of State at your wedding, half of whom are now being hospitalized for injuries they sustained in the attack.”

“So?” Bucky snapped.

His eyes were already trailing back to the cart.

“So you think the U.N. Security Council was just gonna let that slide?”

“Two-thirds of its members have been up in arms, practically chomping at the bit to get someone pinned for the fucking thing—that leaves you or Schröder on the chopping block,” Steve chimed in.

“So one more federal probe. What’s the big deal?” Bucky hardly realized he’d taken a tumbler in his hands.

Just as he’d turned to pour himself a drink, guided more by bare muscle memory than anything else, Natasha raised a manila folder—the item she’d been looking for. He’d filled his glass half full when the folder was flung his way like a frisbee. He narrowly saved himself a papercut—or ten—by ducking his head, almost spilling his drink.

“The fuck, Nat?!” he bellowed.

“Extradition, Bucky. Search warrants for your Brooklyn residence, all your money service businesses up the Eastern Seaboard, and a whole hell of a lot of other financial records that we do not need dredged up in this mess.” Natasha pointed to the folder on the floor, which had just spilled a litany of documents at his feet.

“Let them.” Bucky wasn’t fazed by the warrants, walking over them as he drank, “I’m not going to Madripoor."

This time, it was Sharon's turn to roll her eyes as she swiveled in her chair to face Bucky. She was turned from you now, but you could almost smell the smug, knowing look she raked over your husband as she uncrossed her legs and leaned back.

"We don't have time for this," she said, coolly, "If you have any hopes of getting the Counter-Terrorism Committee off your ass and Schröder in custody, you'll listen to Nat."

Bucky paused, weighing her words in his mind before meeting her gaze again. He brought his glass to his lips and drained it.

Then, perhaps feeling a bit emboldened by the idea that she was the only one to have shut Bucky up—to have made him listen, as it were—Sharon piped up again. You didn't need to see her face to know for certain there was a smirk etched across it,

"Don't look so glum, honey. We have no choice here."

It startled every last soul at that table, yourself included and Sharon especially, when the cup in Bucky's hand sailed across the room and shattered on the edge of a cabinet close by. Before the glass had so much as splintered and scattered half of its jagged shards along the floor, your husband was stalking, then stopping, then looming over Sharon with an implacably dour look. And a jaw set tight as you'd ever seen it.

"My choice," he seethed, so low the words almost came out in a murmur, "is to protect my wife. Whatever you, or Natasha, or anyone else has in mind comes second to that. Do you understand?"

Sharon nodded that she did.

A hushed silence fell over the room once more, only now its duration was greater, and the cause of it—your red-faced, fuming husband—had turned his back to the group and was retrieving from the bar cart another glass. Another drink. Natasha followed his path with a vigilant eye.

"Bucky," she said.

Bucky didn't answer. Filled his new glass to the brim.

"Bucky," Natasha tried with a little more volume and vigor.

Your husband lifted the cup to his mouth and started to guzzle, against every shrill and helpless plea from his liver, you guessed. You wanted to object, to take leave of your seat as quick as you could and knock the thing out of his hand before he could finish, but Natasha had you beat—not with any physical act but a word to slow him down: "Barnes."

Then, a few more to get him to stop entirely:

"Look. Over there."

She pointed to a slip of paper somewhere at the top of the shuffle.

Bucky shifted his gaze to the floor. You saw him lick both corners of his mouth, bathed in whiskey residuum and a light, nascent spatter of stubble. He looked almost menacing in spite of the grin that kicked up.

"What's this?" he murmured.

"The terms of Schröder's newest offer. The one he made this morning."

Bucky's second glass was discarded in an instant.

He dropped to his knees, seized the paper in his hands and pored over the bare, 11-point Times New Roman typeface like it was the single most precious set of words in the world to him. There were several mountains of text, and you sensed he couldn't begin to under the legal jargon with just one cursory look.

"What? What's'it mean?" Bucky wouldn't tear his gaze away, even as he shouted to Natasha.

Your own eyes probably should've been fixed on Bucky, or in your lap, or out the window, reflecting in silence on what the fuck could be going on and why it felt as though things were suddenly coming to a perilous head. Instead, you pivoted to Natasha. Her face was tilted to you.

Then she spoke to Bucky, still crouched on the floor a few feet away from her, but she kept her focus on you. She spoke carefully.

"Schröder won't take the money, Bucky."

"What?"

Bucky's gaze combed over the page, desperate to make sense of what was printed in front of him—"The hell's this all mean, Nat, tell me what it means and what he wants, for fuck's sake."—and he flipped the document. Read some more. His eyes flitted from line to line in a full-blown terror.

Then the eyes stopped in one spot.

Bucky stood.

Fisting the letter in one hand and making a wild, inarticulate gesture with the other, he probably could've seared a hole in Natasha's head with the force of his stare. She refused to meet it.

"This is a joke, isn't it?"

All of a sudden, your father leaned over your mother to you,

"We can make it work. We can keep you—"

"Hey. Don't talk to her. Don't fuckin' look at her. Is this—"

"—safe. We'll keep you safe, darling, I swear."

"—some kind of sick fucking joke?!"

You stared at your dad in disbelief. Bewilderment. Then you chanced a look at Bucky, who had all but gone blue in the face as he approached your father from the opposite end of the table, letter still crushed in his hand.

Your father averted his gaze.

He knew.

You saw him flick the gold signet on his pinky once more, and for reasons you didn't yet understand yourself, you couldn't look away from it, or him.

Surely this scared-shitless son of a bitch could speak to you now. He'd have to. There was no way he wouldn't when the problem was staring him right in the face and his son-in-law was practically apoplectic with rage in front of him.

Something clicked in Bucky's brain.

He knew.

Your husband’s breath caught with the full weight of the realization, and he blinked. He didn’t hesitate; he simply sidestepped Sam and Steve—who had stood as soon as they saw the look of understanding cross over his face—and he seized your father. You heard a scream, most likely from your mother, and you saw Bucky swing, but the act barely registered as real until his fist first cracked against your dad’s skull. Again. And again. And again.

Somewhere in the raucous din and sounds of punches, kicks, and muffled groans, a discharge of blood, and the dim recognition that some of the stuff was dousing you, too, you managed to make out several words, disjointed:

“—FUCKING KILL YOU—SOLD HER—SOLD HER?!”

Roleplay was fun—even vital for a marriage like yours.

‘Winter Soldier’ didn’t have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, it was true, but it was an alter-ego he’d been given from his earliest days as a made man. A caricature of himself that was to represent everything he did and was capable of doing in places like Madripoor.

You didn’t know that side. You didn’t like that side.

It was Bucky, and it wasn’t—pummeling your father’s face in the ground after learning that he had offered you up, again, in satisfaction of a debt. Sparing no feelings when he spoke to Natasha, Sam, Steve, Sharon, or anyone, making clear his wife’s safety was paramount.

Maybe you were meant to feel proud. Or flattered. Or safe. But oddly, the longer you’d stared at the bloodied, bruised fist he held above your father’s face and the half-deranged look of anger on his own, the more you began to wonder if the fury was for your protection, or simply a knee-jerk response to the thought of losing a possession. A mere object that he couldn’t bear to part ways with.

You had thought long and hard about where the Soldier stopped and Bucky began. No matter where you landed, you were far from comfortable with the conclusion.

Now, even as you stood two feet away from the man in an upper-level lounge of the Foxy Den, roughly half a day removed from the whirlwind turn of events that almost sent your father to hospital, you hardly knew what to say.

“Zip me up?”

The closest thing you’d had to conversation in hours. Bucky obliged.

You viewed your new dress in the mirror from the side and made a face. Pretended to examine the tight black number but were really just zeroing in on the sight of Bucky’s knuckles as he dragged the zip up your back. He hadn’t bothered to mend his hands, and you hadn’t thought to offer to bandage them up. You tried not to stare.

The hands paused at the top of your dress and froze.

Then crept back slowly, taking the zip along with it.

“Wanna—?”

“Bucky!”

One low groan, followed by a palm to his worn and wearied face. When you spun around, he didn’t move.

“Are you serious?” you bit.

“Will you talk to me now?” Bucky retorted.

To be fair, neither he nor his Winter Soldier persona knew how to solve the silent treatment from a pissed-off wife. This was brand new territory—being ignored for hours on end—and frankly, he had thought a playful request for sex might make you more amenable to conversation.

He had thought wrong.

You stared daggers at his handsome face and raised a finger as though to warn him, then stopped. Opened your mouth as if to speak, then appeared to decide against it. A steady, pulsing bass from the floors below was all that could be heard, and momentarily, you were reminded of why you were all here in the first place:

Locate Schröder. Corner Schröder. Capture Schröder. Bring the bad man to justice—or else just pump the motherfucker’s head full of lead and be done with it.

You weren’t too familiar with the particulars of the plan, but that had seemed to be the heart of it. Bucky never intended for you to stray from the safety of the lounge upstairs, where half of his team were casing the club through dozens of surveillance cameras, and he would likely take off with Sam and Steve the second you’d finished dressing. Now would be the time to talk.

And you planned to. Eventually.

For now, though, you’d let him sweat it out.

You had long envied women with effortless sex appeal and charisma. The kind that seemed to be made for the stage, capable of transfixing any audience, or individual, with little more than their aura alone. You’d never felt a fraction of that allure emanate from yourself before, personally, but looking at Bucky now brought you as close as you’d ever been. He was enthralled by your every move, he was intrigued at all times, you could see.

He was visibly aroused before you had even touched him. You knew it was cruel and unkind before you were even fully conscious of what you were doing, but you did it.

Someone had to teach this man how to control his anger—and his urges—somehow. Who better than you?

You drew closer to Bucky until your fronts almost touched.

“Baby,” you murmured. Simple, nearly plaintive.

Bucky blanched. Could it be? Had his bullshit gambit actually paid off and made you want to talk, or possibly do more? His hands immediately went for your hips, but you were quick to shove them off. You poked one finger to his chest and shook your head.

“We can talk,” you said, measured.

You pressed into his sternum and pretended not to see a short-lived look of defeat, followed by confusion, cross Bucky’s features. He let you walk him back a step or two.

“Okay. What about?”

Where the hell could you even begin?

“Sit first,” you urged him.

It was then that he realized you’d been walking him toward the plush sectional couch behind him—a cozy little touch to the VIP room only marginally diminished by the fact that it was coated in liquor, coke, and glitter. Bucky sat down anyway.

You didn’t follow, choosing instead to stand as you appeared to…scratch something on your back? Your husband looked on in muted curiosity as you reached behind yourself and tilted your torso just slightly.

Then he heard a zip. A hitch. Another, longer drag.

Bucky knew he was fucked before you ever slipped the dress off your body. You were to make quick work of it, eyes never leaving the man in front of you as you peeled the fabric down your legs and off of your frame entirely. When you were down to just your underwear, you hadn’t even needed to see his face to know exactly where his gaze was likely to land—this part was new to him. You kicked the dress aside and let him stare.

To be fair, it wasn’t every day he got to see a Ruger LC9 strapped to your thigh. Hidden in plain sight now that you were stripped bare before him in just your bra, panties, and garter-like holster across the top of your leg.

“Where’d you get that?” Bucky nearly choked, eyes wide.

“TJ Maxx,” you huffed, “Where the fuck do you think?”

“I never said you could— And Sam and Steve—”

Bucky paused, suddenly aware of how indignant and stupid he was starting to sound. He had given orders to the rest of his team not to let you carry a gun under any circumstances, but here you were. If he weren’t so violently aroused by the sight of you wearing the thing, he probably would’ve been fuming.

“A couple guys from your security detail were kind enough to make an exception,” you smiled, words verging on smug, “And who’s to say what I ‘can’ and ‘can’t’ do, hm?”

Bucky looked as though he were priming himself to stand when you lifted one stiletto to rest between his legs on the seat. A silent and quasi-sweet threat in one gesture.

“I didn’t say you can’t— well—” Bucky faltered at the last.

“You just said you never gave me permission!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, “That doesn’t sound very equitable to me, James.”

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh of his own.

“C’mon. You know what I mean, honey…I just…want to keep you safe. You know that.”

“Self-defense is a pretty integral part of safety.”

“No one’s ever taught you to shoot!”

“You never bothered to ask!”

This was getting a little too aggressive and Jerry Springer-eqsue for your liking. Not nearly sexy or seductive enough to be heading in the direction you wanted. Bucky always brought the bickering out of you, but you had to stay strong. Slow and steady and all that bullshit.

So, before he could respond to your last remark, you lowered yourself over him. Brought both legs to bracket his hips and hovered carefully in place above the bulge in his tactical pants. When he swallowed beneath you and raked his gaze over your body, you felt a twinge of relief.

You sank further down. Dragged your lower half over his own and earned a groan from deep within his throat. Again, his hands flew to your waist to get a good grip, but you pried them off before they could ever fully sink into the flesh.

“What?” Impatience palpable in Bucky’s tone.

“No,” you answered simply.

“No?”

“No, you don’t get to touch me. You don’t own me.”

Your husband shifted under your body, hands helpless at his sides and masseter muscle visibly clenching beneath the skin as he gritted his teeth. He shook his head.

“I never said that I did,” he managed, after a pause, “Baby, I love you.”

“And beating the shit out of my dad was your special way of showing that?”

“That wasn’t—”

“Or snapping at Natasha. And Sam. Steve. Sharon,” you added emphasis to the last name without really meaning to, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I…lost my temper, I—”

“Couldn’t control your anger. Or wouldn’t. All because my dad made some stupid deal with a man and offered me up as collateral.”

“Because Joey wants you for himself!” Bucky snapped, voice suddenly raised to a near-deafening pitch. He shifted his hips and inadvertently grazed the heat between your legs, drawing a subtle pinch in his brow at the friction, “The deal your dad made was to give you over to Schröder in satisfaction of his own fucking debt—you think I was just gonna sit by and let that happen?!”

In spite of the animosity, you pressed your body to his even harder and watched him fold—if only slightly. He breathed a sharp inhale through his nose and flexed both his hands, as if wanting to make fists. However, he knew better than to move himself around at a time like this.

“What? Like the deal you made with him?”

Your words were clipped, almost cruel. You knew it would hit a nerve in Bucky, and sure enough, he met you right where you wanted him: enraged.

“That’s fucking different,” he seethed, “I would’ve paid your father’s debt without— without anything in it for me.”

“But you didn’t, and you got me.”

“And I love you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

The abrupt vulnerability in his voice was all but agony to hear. For a second, it seemed the anger had fled—or at least been eclipsed by some softer, sweeter shade—only for Bucky to blink again, shake his head, and wear that stupid, hardened look that said, ‘I am not losing this.’ Your hands reached for his belt and started in on the zip.

“You have a real fucked up way of showing love, James.”

To your surprise, Bucky let you continue, unhindered. Blue eyes meeting yours in a cold look.

“Makes two of us,” he mumbled, shrugging his boxers and trousers out of the way anyway.

That was probably true. No person in their right mind would think fucking their husband was the safest, most surefire way to let him know they were pissed at him, but both you and Bucky were working on communication skills, still. You’d get to healthy, non-sex-fueled fights at some point.

As it was, Bucky was fumbling around your thighs, trying to pry them open even wider for better access through your panties. That you allowed, but the second he tried manhandling you over his crotch, you pushed back.

“I wanna do this— without your help,” you said, firm.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Bucky agreed. He let you line yourself up with his length, brace your weight against his shoulders, and when you paused, he made a soft, ‘Hm?’ and glanced down where you looked. Before you could remove the pistol from its holster, he set his palm atop the cool metal.

“Leave it,” he murmured.

His eyes flashed with desire. It was almost more than you could bear, despite the plain fact that riding someone with a firearm strapped to your thigh probably violated every NRA gun safety rule known to man. Whatever.

You lowered yourself onto Bucky, slow, and sucked in a quick breath as he filled you. Your husband groaned.

“Fuck,” followed shortly thereafter, almost timid to crawl out of his mouth as you sank to a fully-seated position on top of him. He gripped the armrest beside him.

When your hips first stirred, you thought the man might burst a blood vessel trying not to move right along with you. You pressed a hand to his chest and reminded him, gently but with purpose: let me fucking do this, Bucky, and he relented. Fisting the couch cushion in something close to a death grip, he nodded his head and heaved a short breath and watched you all the while, grinding on him.

“My pretty…pretty girl,” he managed through his teeth.

He was doing better than you expected. You watched his face contort with pleasure when you lifted yourself up to the tip of his cock and slide back down. You squeezed his shoulders, and you let out a low whimper yourself, and dammit all, you felt that pesky fucking knot already forming in the pit of your stomach. You glanced down and frowned, wanting this to last so much longer.

Fortunately, when your eyes found Bucky’s again, you got the sense that he was in the same boat as you: brow furrowed tight in concentration and lips parted slightly, panting in time with each one of your movements.

“Baby,” he said, the single word treading close to a plea. He paused, dropped a glance to the spot where your bodies were coupled, and swallowed. He cursed aloud, then continued, quietly, “Baby…’m’sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You bounced a bit faster.

“For— fuckin’ hell, honey— for being a…dick.” The last part of his sentence was pierced by a grunt and a moan, but you heard it just the same.

You clenched around him and tried to keep steady. Manage a small, shit-eating grin above him, even.

“Being a dick?” you repeated, pretending not to know what he meant. When his cock grazed over a particularly sensitive place inside you, you just swallowed the moan and kept going, fingers taking hold of some short tufts of hair at the back of Bucky’s head as you rode him.

“Possessive. Controlling. Kind of a—” Bucky paused to grunt when he bottomed out inside, hands aching to hold you, “—piece of shit.”

Finally, you were getting somewhere. Not nearly close enough to cure the rage or the dark, grating impulses churning inside of him, but good enough, for now.

You reached for his hands and set them over your hips.

The next most natural thing was to lean down and kiss him—let his tongue invade your mouth as soon as he’d caught your lips and show you, with a wordless and fast-moving show of affection, that he missed you. And meant what he’d said. With his hands moving quick to cup your cheeks, hold you to him while he kissed you and stroked deep inside your walls, he gripped you tighter than he had in a while. You could feel strips of tension and desperation bleed through his every fingertip.

“Wanna…fuckin’ kill anyone who even thinks…of— fuck,” Bucky’s words were almost slurred at this point, so close to the point of release it seemed every wild and wanton thought that crossed his mind was likely to dance off his tongue, unchecked. You loved to see him in it this deep.

You also had to remind the murderous alter ego that violence was not the answer…always. You let him pull you closer, bodies pressed flush against each other while you fucked, but you made sure to tilt his chin up to yours so he could see the expression on your face as you spoke.

“Hey,” you pinned him with one stern look, “No murder.”

Bucky frowned.

“Yes murder,” he retorted.

You sighed.

This shit was worse than teaching a dog not to bite.

Instead of pulling back or being strict this time, though, you decided you’d give positive reinforcement a try. You squeezed his short locks of hair, gently, and rolled your hips even tighter to his, eliciting a stuttered groan. You bounced up and down on his cock, pulled him into your chest, and brought your face within an inch of his.

“Promise to be good, and I’ll let you cum inside me,” you murmured into his lips. Not the wisest offer you’d made to date, but one that Bucky seemed to want more than the air in his lungs the second the words escaped you. He pulled you in for a kiss, immediately.

“Fuck, you mean it?” he breathed, in between each sloppy, frenzied movement of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you tried not to grin at how eager he seemed, “You’re gonna apologize to everyone, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky barely seemed to register anyone or anything but you and your pussy at the moment, yearning for the go-ahead to let himself free inside you. With a nod of your head, you’d let him start meeting your motions with gentle thrusts of his own, and both of you were teetering precariously close to the edge with that added pressure. In spite of both your hot and heady, near-anoetic states, you endeavored to hold out a little longer, legs aching.

“Gonna try and talk to Schröder first?” you panted.

Bucky rutted into you hard, lips twitching into a frown.

“Doesn’t…deserve it,” he grunted, barely able to get the words out as he grabbed your hips and thrusted harder, “A fucking bullet between the eyes is what he needs.”

You eyed him soberly, or as serious as you could manage with the force of his strokes nearly sending you into a spiral. You fought back a moan and gripped him tighter.

“Bucky.”

“Bunny.”

Damn, that name.

“Promise me you won’t kill him—or anyone—tonight.”

“Baby—”

“Promise.”

His thrusts were getting sloppier; with his hands hoisting you just above him and his cock practically drilling into you now, speech and coherent thought were some of the toughest things to accomplish, but he tried it, anyway. Bucky would swallow his pride and accede to his wife, no matter how fucking badly he wanted to cum—and kill that Russian mob boss with both his bare, bloody hands.

He could be better than the Winter Soldier. He would.

With a rough, labored breath, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss and felt you squeeze around his cock like a vice. Still thrusting, clutching you, kissing you hard, he saw both of your releases coming in fast and had to act even quicker.

“I— I promise,” he stammered.

That was all either of you needed, or could bear, quite frankly. In the next second or two, you felt a cord snap in your lower half and a deep, punchy flurry of pleasure follow shortly thereafter, fingers sinking deep in Bucky’s shoulders as he bounced you on his cock and held you close. With your walls still pulsing around him, you felt him chase his own high at a breakneck pace, shooting his load inside you a moment later. It was bad, it was brash, it was a really fucking dumb idea to be playing around with the odds of making babies at a time like this, but it also felt good. Exhilarating, even, feeling him empty his balls in that space between your wet, aching walls and filling you up with his seed.

Maybe just one little mini-Bucky wouldn’t—

STOP.

You barely had the energy to acknowledge, much less arbitrate that bone-crushing conflict between your brain and reproductive organs, so you shut the thoughts up with a quick, messy kiss to Bucky, whose chest was still heaving from the peak of his release, holding you to him.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Maybe even two—

FUCK YOU.

The internal war wouldn’t go away that easy, it seemed.

You kissed Bucky long and hard regardless, hoping the shit would sort itself out before you really had to think. Or worry. Or plan. It was dumb and a bit short-sighted, but feeling that hot, erratic pulse between your legs did a pretty good job of making it seem just fine for right now.

Bucky’s expression was lax. Soaking in the feel of your cum-painted insides still squeezing around him, gently. Had he been anywhere but the heart of Low Town on a covert mission in a strip club, hunting down the head of HYDRA with a whole troupe of trained assassins, he probably would’ve liked to stay that way a little longer. But, as it was, he could already hear folks filing in and out of the lounge, footfalls growing heavier as his team loaded up with guns, grenades, and whatever other weapons they could fit beneath their formal attire.

“Don’t look so sad,” you said as you lifted off of Bucky. Carefully pulling your panties back into place as your husband watched you do it, practically forlorn.

“Too late,” he returned in half a groan, yanking his own clothes where they needed to be and trailing a look up your legs, “Might feel better if we tried it again, though.”

“I bet.” You pulled your dress over your head.

Your husband had just tightened his belt and was rolling his shoulders to get a knot out of his neck, it seemed.

“What are your thoughts on ‘Bucky Jr.’?” he asked casually.

“Don’t start with this shit.”

“Jamie for a girl, maybe?”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your baby talk and death threat tête-à-tête continued for quite some time—just a couple minutes, but they felt like years to you—and before long, you were rubbing the gun under your dress and casting a glare in Bucky’s direction, and he got the sense that it was time to head back to the group. He looped an arm around your waist and led you out into the main space.

The living room was little more than a makeshift headquarters at that point. You’d been expecting to see more faces, but the only ones you found were Sam, Natasha, and a few silent, beefy individuals you assumed were part of security. Where Sharon and your parents had gotten off to was anyone’s guess. You took a seat on the couch.

“Anything yet?” Bucky questioned, approaching the panel of surveillance screens with a wary eye.

“We’ve had intermittent visuals on the second floor for forty minutes or so—” Sam motioned to one screen on the left, “—but Schröder hasn’t moved. Hasn’t done anything but bullshit and booze and buy rounds for his group. Won’t even talk to the dancers, which is weird.”

From what you’d been told, the goal was to get Schröder off the second floor, up to one particular private suite on fourth, then send in an agent dressed as a bottle girl to make entry as soon as the rest of the party had arrived, keeping in contact with HQ, and Sam, via PTT earpiece all the while. The details from that point were hazy, but you’d gotten the sense that someone—or, more likely, a sizable and duly-equipped group of someones—was lying in wait somewhere in the suites surrounding them. Steve had been tasked with leading the incursion, though where he could be found, or whom he was with, remained largely a mystery to you. Recon in a bustling, crowded area with music blaring on all four sides was a formidable undertaking, and you could tell both Sam and Natasha had been having trouble keeping tabs on every player. They seemed on edge, monitoring the screens.

“Won’t talk to the dancers?” Bucky’s brow pinched in.

“Won’t talk to anyone outside of his inner circle,” Natasha said, grim, “Which leads me to think he’s not staying here long. Probably called his associates in for a speedy-quick deal because he knows he’s being tailed.”

“Hasn’t engaged with any of our undercovers?” Bucky pressed.

Natasha and Sam shook their heads. Your husband groaned.

“Then how the hell are we getting him upstairs to the champagne room? If he hasn’t budged and doesn’t look like he’s planning to stay?”

The looks on the faces in front of him said there wasn’t one readily available answer—or any answer at all. Bucky turned back to the screens and seemed to survey the whole panel, gaze cooling with the first inkling that this operation may be classed a failure in the very near future.

He barked some half-coherent babble about strategy, security, and failsafes, then barked for Steve.

And, as if on cue, Steve appeared at the threshold of the room a moment later, breathless and slightly flushed.

“Rogers, you’re suppos—” Sam started, eyes widening at something you couldn’t quite discern from his arrival.

“I know, I know,” Steve cut in, fast, “Want the good news or bad news fir—”

“Just spit it out,” Natasha said, preemptively unnerved.

“Schröder’s headed to the suite right now—”

Bucky raised both eyebrows at Steve as he continued.

“—but they won’t let Wanda in.”

‘Fuck’ was the first audible word from your husband, then Sam, in short order. Wanda must have been the agent playing bottle girl upstairs. This didn’t sound good.

“Why the fuck won’t they let her in?” Bucky snapped.

“Someone might’ve tipped his security off. Or else they’re just being extra cautious about who’s let in.”

Steve fiddled with one cufflink on his suit and tried not to appear too despondent, but the implications of this single event were huge, you could read on every face in the room. Wanda had been meant to do something important before the rest of the brigade mobilized—take some key step that couldn’t be omitted from the plan.

“So we retreat.” Natasha was not one to mince her words, per usual, “Get your guys out of the suites now.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched at his sides.

“No,” he said, sharply, “We’re not doing that.”

“Bucky.”

“We’ll get someone in there. We’ll find another way.”

Your husband was already pacing the space in front of you, and you looked on with uncertain eyes. You chanced a look to Natasha, Sam, and Steve, all of whom shared similar, albeit slightly more wearied, expressions as they watched and murmured among themselves.

“None of our people are getting up there, Barnes. Schröder’s got a goddamn sixth sense about our agents or something,” Steve said, at length.

“They’re all in masks—for a fucking masquerade—and we can’t get one person in?! In-and-out, that’s all it needs to be,” Bucky growled.

“We can’t get in there, that’s the point,” Sam sighed, “Masks or no masks, they know our people too well and won’t let us through.”

“We can at least try, for Christ’s sake. That’s what we came this whole fuckin’ way to do, right?”

When no one said a word in response, Bucky scowled,

“Right?”

There was a lull in the conversation that seemed to last for minutes, when, in reality, couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen seconds. Tensions were high. You could tell from the look in Bucky’s eye he was trying not to lash out as he normally would, but in no time at all, you saw a fractional break in his resolve. You feared he might fly off the handle, or else compromise something that couldn’t be spared at a time like this. You swallowed.

“I’ll go.”

It was stupid.

Every face turned to regard you as if you were stupid, you assumed as soon as the words had left your mouth.

But then, much to your surprise, Steve was perking up, eyes suddenly brighter as his gaze tilted to you.

“She could,” he said, shortly.

“Should she?” Sam seemed to murmur at once.

“Sure, why not?”

“I can think of plenty reasons why not,” Natasha was quick to counter, but beneath that pensive expression, you could’ve sworn you saw the smallest degree of contemplation. Even hope, from the looks of it.

‘NO’ was Bucky’s wordless, immediate, and resounding answer as he kicked whatever furniture—a footstool, this time—was closest to him and sent it flying toward the door. It seemed that self-control of his had worn off fast.

“No,” he affirmed in a word a second later, jaw clenched, “She is going nowhere near that suite.”

He didn’t even spare you a glance while he spoke. He was too busy eyeing the others, Steve specifically, as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths and a light, blooming tinge of pink rose the length of his neck. If it weren’t for that staunch and menacing look on his face, he would’ve almost looked cute, you mused to yourself.

But, pretty man be damned, you wouldn’t stand for being ignored. Fuck that noise.

“I will,” you returned, a little more resolute this time.

Now Bucky had no choice but to pivot to you. His expression softened some, but not by much.

“No,” he said, again.

“Yes.”

“Baby—”

“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me, Barnes. You said someone who wasn’t an agent could make it up there, and I can do it. Or try, at least, like you just said.”

If your attention hadn’t been fixed on your husband, you probably would’ve caught sight of more than one thinly veiled smile from the group around you. Natasha, in particular, all but tickled to see someone stand up to Bucky and give him a taste of his own shit—and live to tell the tale. The sight of her boss’s eyes almost glossy in the first tender look she’d seen from him in years was almost too much to bear. Steve stood grinning beside her, and Sam narrowly stifled an exhale of amusement. Neither you nor Bucky flinched from your positions.

“We can’t risk you being around him. They’re already all on high-alert,” your husband said after a calming breath.

“As are all your trigger-happy comrades waiting just ten feet outside the door, right?” you replied, “What is it, like, five, ten of them in total?”

“Twenty,” Steve interjected. Bucky shot him a look.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you up there when that fucker was just trying to— to kidnap you last week. I’m not—”

“Right. Right. Trying to kidnap me, not kill me. If Schröder wanted me dead, he would’ve made pretty quick work of that before,” you cut in, tone a touch more deliberate, “Even if he sniffs me out, he’s not gonna screw this whole deal by hurting me now.”

But the mere suggestion of harm to you had seemed to raise every hair on its end for Bucky, and then he was shaking his head, evidently more stubborn than ever.

“No, fuck. Don’t start,” he snapped with his newfound indignation, then, quieter, “Please…don’t, honey.”

You wouldn’t bow that easily.

“Why not?”

Truly, Bucky couldn’t be certain if it was the lilt in your voice, the pinch at the sides of your lips, or simply the sincerity consuming your eyes as you spoke to him, but the man could not stomach the thought of you, his own wife, being a stone’s throw from mortal danger and beyond his protection—or control, he wasn’t sure which one of the two was more dominating. Some cruel and unforgiving knot inside him came to tighten, and twist, and, nauseating as it was set on escape, the white-hot surge rose like bile in his throat. Before he could stop it, the words were spilling out through his teeth like froth:

“Cause I fuckin’ said so, that’s why. That’s it. It’s settled. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, you hear me?”

What Bucky hadn’t expected was the swift ascent back to your feet. The cool and almost careless expression as you rose, as though his words hadn’t registered at all.

He certainly hadn’t expected you to check him with your shoulder as you passed, knocking him slightly off-balance as he turned, in shock, and watched you give him one manicured middle finger over your left shoulder.

“Rogers, I’d like you to escort me upstairs.”

Worst of all, Bucky hadn’t expected Steve to listen.

Fortunately for him, the night was still young and with it, more than ample opportunity to be proven wrong again. And again.

“And again,” Steve murmured low in your ear as you walked side-by-side down the corridor on fourth floor, “If you get even the slightest bad feeling, you leave.”

“Might as well dip right now,” you muttered, adjusting your mask. Your attempt at humor fell flat with the man.

“I’m serious. We’ll be right outside and listening in from headquarters, but HYDRA is not a faction to fuck around with, or underestimate—as I assume you know by now.”

You did. Or would, eventually.

After the mask, you were busy trying to yank the back of your cocktail waitress dress to cover the full swell of your ass, not just the upper two-thirds. Unsurprisingly, it was a tougher task than you had been prepared to handle. Your new heels were tight and impossibly high, your new dress a mere scrap of pink fabric riddled with sequins and glitter, and your mask—holy fuck, were you glad Mardi Gras was not a year-round affair. Bucky had insisted on the fluffiest, stuffiest, full-face covering to ensure that no one would be able to recognize you, but in exchange for your anonymity, you had had to give up breathing, it seemed.

And then there was that vial of poison between your tits.

Sam had assured you that it was a nonlethal dose before handing it over; Steve had urged you, discreetly, to pour Schröder two for good measure. Natasha had overheard the latter and threatened legal action if he ever tried killing a target without her permission. You hadn’t spent much longer getting ready in the bathroom after that. Then you’d brushed past your husband the second you’d stepped out and strapped that last, semi-lethal ‘accessory’ to your bra before taking the lift upstairs.

As it turned out, you weren’t able to escape him entirely.

While you walked with Steve, Bucky was in your ear.

Literally—the man was talking nonstop through your earpiece and clearly had no intention of shutting the fuck up anytime soon. You silently wondered if there was a way to adjust the volume on the gadget as you ambled along.

“Honey.” There was a slightly more mechanical buzz to Bucky’s voice over your private line. You ignored it.

“So just find the cup he’s drinking from and pour the serum in?” you reiterated to Steve for the third time in the last ten minutes.

Your companion nodded, rattling off a few extra precautions while Bucky’s tone rang out a bit louder:

“Honey? You there?”

At last, you stuck your finger to the tiny flesh-colored device in your ear and snapped, “What?!”

“I love you.”

This fucker.

“I love you too. You’re still high on my shit list, though,” you answered, low and begrudgingly.

“Did I hear ‘hit list’? You’re gonna let me tap that later?”

If you didn’t have about fifteen different reasons to hate the man’s guts, you almost would’ve chuckled. At length, you muttered a quiet, ‘Kiss my ass, Barnes,’ and turned back to Steve, who was just then leading you closer to a room roped off and marked ‘EXECUTIVE SUITE.’ Your stomach did a flip as you paused around the corner.

“Right there. All you gotta do is knock and say a guy named Zemo sent you,” Steve spoke slowly, as if he were teaching arts and crafts to a five-year-old and not a woman about to embark on a high-risk sedation mission.

You nodded and took the silver tray from him carefully.

All the platter contained was an oversized bottle of Brut and a silver bucket, but damn if it didn’t feel like you were carrying the world and some change on that thing. You shifted your weight from foot to foot and turned in the direction of the door just a few yards away.

The time for painstakingly descriptive instructions and pep talks was long past you now. You nodded to Steve one last time and started to wobble over.

The entryway was flanked by two muscle-bound men. You approached with a smile.

“Hi. Zemo sent me.”

You didn’t know who the fuck Zemo was.

You hoped they wouldn’t ask, or notice how stilted and awkward you’d sounded just then. You swallowed a peach-sized lump in your throat and smiled again.

The one on the left grunted. The one on the right gave a nod. Without a word spoken between them, the former opened the door and made way for you to step over the threshold. You couldn’t help but notice both with their eyes trained straight on your tits as you passed by.

There was no way that had just worked. No pat-downs or harrowing threats? Not a single, searing interrogation into your identity or what you might be there to do?

Men were dumb, you decided, far too easily deceived by a decent pair of tits—HYDRA security personnel or not.

But you already knew that. You stepped inside.

The fetid stench of half a dozen blazing cigars and booze spilled on every surface were the first to greet you. A wave of smoke, then a bone-jostling bum bum bum to the beat of what sounded like a Don Toliver song came next. You almost couldn’t bear to make your feet move.

But then, shortly, you had to because a shrill, shimmer-doused beauty was waving you over toward the kitchen.

“Ba-by!” she shrieked, gesture growing frantic, “Bring it over!”

You walked with the tray out in front of you, careful with your steps across the sticky floor. When you made it over, where one other girl was stirring wildly at some concoction on the counter, you stopped, and had only to stand for a second longer, because the redhead that had beckoned you was taking the tray, setting it down, and grabbing something thin and pointy. You’d barely even registered it as an ice pick until the thing was thrust in your face.

“Crush it up,” she ordered, one curt nod toward a block of ice nearby. Evidently not giving a shit who you were or where you’d come from either. You guessed Wanda had just gotten unlucky, or they’d all stopped giving a fuck once Schröder’s men had really started drinking.

And drinking they had been, as your eyes surveyed the scene. Half-naked women with fully-clothed men, dressed head to toe in the finest of suits that were probably soaked through to the bone with sweat and Stolichnaya. You almost shivered at the sight of all the masked, wildly gyrating pricks, fumbling desperately through one verse of ‘After Party.’ You could vomit.

But where was your prick? That grimy little shit, Joey.

“Back of the room by the couch,” Bucky said, as if he’d read your mind.

Then a beat.

“Wait. Shit. That isn’t him. Schröder’s over by the door.”

How many tall, lanky blonds could there be in this place? You cast a sweeping look across the room and received your answer in less than two shakes of a lamb’s tail—there were a shit ton of Joey lookalikes all around.

“Careful. Mr. Schröder’s been on edge all night. Might bite your head off if you stare too long.”

The girl that was stirring had apparently caught you looking. She set the spoon aside and turned, but not before chancing a quick glance at the man Bucky had identified to you as your target. The man lifted his gaze.

You chipped away at the ice even faster.

Crush the shit, make a drink, pour the serum, and get it in him. Now. Don’t draw his attention just yet, though.

Something in your head told you to steal another look. You knew it was a bad idea, but you went on and did it anyway—and fortunately, felt a wave of relief at seeing that he’d retreated somewhere back with his friends. The ice pick in your hands made it through the last block.

“I’ll serve the shots, you bring the bottle to Mr. Pierce.”

Mr. Who?

“One of Schröder’s associates. Roll with it.”

It was Natasha’s voice now. Measured, but tense.

“He’s the older gentlemen straight ahead. He probably ordered the champagne for him and the others.”

That was Sam. You could only imagine how all of them looked huddled around the surveillance panel with the transmitter to your earpiece being passed about from person to person. The grip Bucky must’ve had on his gun, or his switchblade, or whatever weapon he could seize to make himself feel a little less helpless. But he was—as were you. And truthfully, there was nothing either one of you could do about that until Schröder was in custody. This was the first step toward reaching that goal.

So you walked with the bottle, now bathed in a tub of ice. You tried to keep steady, but the staggering drunks all around were making that tough, to say the least.

When one man struck you straight in the chest, elbows jutting out as he danced, you stumbled back a step. Nearly lost the tray for half a second, then recovered.

Until the dipshit hit you again.

This time you truly almost sent the bottle sailing for the floor, grip slipping on the tray and knees buckling underneath you as the force of the blow set you back. You bit a quick, ‘Fuck!’ in the air, seized the platter twice as hard and braced your weight against something firm behind you. A shelf, a TV stand, or something. Maybe a half-wall if you were lucky enough not to have careened against some expensive piece of furniture. You sighed.

“Everything alright?” a voice rumbled behind you.

Or a person. Yeah, a person would be pretty fucking bad to bump into at a time like this. Your whole body froze.

You turned.

“Ye-es sir. Yes, sir.” You quickly righted your tone the second you realized it was someone important.

Not Schröder, but someone who seemed to be big-name enough; you just weren’t sure who. The man smiled down at you from under his Venetian mask.

“Is this for me?” he nodded toward the tray, half-teasing.

You swallowed.

“Are you Mr. Pierce?” you asked.

The man’s grin stretched even wider.

“Nope, I’m Ward. but I can take you to Pierce.”

For the first time that night, your heart swelled with some promise. You thanked him quietly, gratefully, then made as if to follow him back through the crowd, when all of a sudden, you stopped. That heartfelt swelling in your chest halted right along with it. You almost dropped the tray.

“Schröder!” Ward bellowed.

No, no, now you were actually going to lose your shit. There was no way in hell you were keeping a grip on this silver little plate any longer without crying or screaming or shitting your pretty, pink, sequin minidress right there. You almost shrieked when a hand reached for the tray.

“Pierce got you doing all the heavy lifting, huh, honey? The bastard.” Even through his own ornate mask, you could tell Joey was grinning—glinting with conceit, as was his prerogative. He took the load off your hands.

“Take it easy now, he’s just—”

“Staring at your rack. Pull your top up, baby, please.”

The chatter in your ear had switched from Sam to Bucky at nearly lightning speed. You glanced down at your cleavage and tugged the fabric up quick, heart beating even faster underneath it.

In front of you, Joey Schröder was all teeth. A gruesome spectacle in spite of its seemingly benevolent intentions, one smile could have turned your stomach sideways. And it did—you wanted to throw up again—but you knew you had bigger fish to fry, and evil mobsters to poison. You didn’t flinch when Schröder nudged you in the shoulder and made his way ahead, coaxing you to follow.

You didn’t tense and didn’t protest. Didn’t blink when he led you straight through the party, around a few topless performers on poles, and into a backroom lounge.

In fact, your mind practically sang as he led you inside.

It was just every other nerve, muscle, and trembling tendon not under the immediate control of your brain that needed soothing. You could’ve sworn the men on the couches would see your legs shaking as soon as you trudged into the room and sniff you out on sight.

But if they had, they didn’t show it.

No one moved when you entered, save for a few lopsided grins and tilts of happy, masked faces. Sizing you up. Drinking you in. Far too easily mistakable for a band of apex predators that had just caught wind of their next meal, and not a room full of sleazy Russian mobsters. You bit back your grating disgust with a smile.

“Got a present for ya, Pierce,” Schröder announced.

A honey-blond head flecked with silver and white sat up from the sofa. Presumably the one who’d ordered the champagne.

“Oh yeah? What’d ya pay for her?” he returned, mouth curling up in a wicked smile.

Even above the booming music, you could make out peals of laughter as the men around you shared in some lewd, crude comments and several whispers exchanged between them. You would’ve liked to grab your bottle by the neck and break it over the nearest patron’s head, but then you remembered yourself, and your mission. You stilled beside Schröder and let them crack a few more tasteless jokes at your expense. Schröder chuckled and set the tray down in front of a thoroughly amused Pierce.

Then he grabbed you by the waist.

“Right. I forgot to ask—what is your price, sweetheart?” he said, swiftly pulling you up to his front.

Your hands flew to his chest reflexively. Your nose scrunched in a wince at the sound of an electric shout:

“GET HIM OFF OF HER!”

“Bucky, hey, hey, we can’t just—”

“NO! THAT’S NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PL—”

The line went silent. You scratched at the space behind your ear, trying hard not to betray any pain on your face, or the fear for what might be going on downstairs.

Clearly, you failed on both fronts, because Joey’s grip only tightened. He peered down at you, curious.

“You deaf or somethin’, sugar? What’s your price?”

You batted your eyes, momentarily struggling for words.

But then, somehow, you managed to choke out, stomach churning with bile:

“Whatever you want, sir.”

You felt your soul drain out through the soles of your shoes as you’d said it. Something fell from your face—most likely a light behind your eyes and any semblance of self-worth as you stood before the man who had tried to buy you, drug you, and kill half your family, and then pretend like you wanted to dance for him, or do more.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t right by any means, but it was all just roleplay.

Roleplay.

You had to keep telling yourself that as you let Schröder’s hand glide up your spine and grip the back of your neck, tilting your head up to his. It was just like your husband and his cold-blooded Winter Soldier persona, you tried to convince the increasingly frightened voice in your mind. Just like him, just like your sweet and soft and sadistic—

“Bucky,” you whispered unconsciously.

You knew he couldn’t hear you now. It was almost insane to think anyone could save you now but yourself.

“What?” Joey exhaled sharply.

You froze in fear.

“Five hundred bucks,” you corrected your error quickly.

You weren’t sure Schröder was convinced.

“Five hundred bucks for one lap dance and some fun?” he scoffed. Then he squeezed your neck a little tighter and drew your face within an inch of his own. You could feel the hot puffs of breath, smell the rancid liquor on his tongue, but you stayed where he held you in place and tried not to grimace when he said, “That’s a damn steal.”

Your lips were shaking something awful under your mask. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what kissing this vile, soulless bastard would taste like, but you feared it might come sooner than you knew, because Joey was drawing you even more rough and tight into his chest.

Just when your mouth was less than a hair’s breadth away from his, though, you heard a woman’s scream.

Then another. And another. And another.

Before long, almost half the suite had erupted in shrieks, it seemed, and the sounds of their horror were shortly supplanted by a series of explosions. And gunfire.

Johann Schröder dropped your body like the worst habit known to man and went bounding away from the turmoil as fast as he could. This time, you did trip over your heels and took a nasty little nosedive to the ground. Fumbling, crawling, then sliding across the shag carpet on your belly with your eyes in wild search of somewhere to hide.

You spotted a coffee table and muscled your way over.

“SCHRÖDER!” a voice roared from somewhere behind.

Again, you knew better than to look, but the fear of not knowing who, or what, might be barreling your direction at any second outweighed more sensible considerations. You stole a look over your shoulder and nearly screamed.

A man with a pitch black balaclava stormed into the lounge and wasted no time setting sights on his intended target—raising a Heckler & Koch MP7A1 submachine gun to his face and firing the second the impulse struck.

You watched a once-handsome, lively, and drunk man turn to shredded, fleshy carnage in less than an instant and fall right beside your head with a thud. Your hand was your only defense to keep the shriek inside your chest, but even that blockade was crumbling fast as the blood-soaked assassin wrenched the body in the air.

The gunman tore the mask from his victim’s head and inspected the face—or what was left of it. He cursed.

You could tell from your close proximity to the blues of his eyes, and that sigh, you wouldn’t need to ask at all. You just sat there and stared, knees hugged to your chest as Bucky threw the body back down as hard as he could.

“FUCK!” he bellowed, voice flooded with rage.

Steve stumbled in with his gun at the ready. He eyed the man on the floor, then you, then a dozen other flailing, desperate partygoers trying to escape the suite all around you. You just drew in even tighter to the table.

“What happened?! Where’d he go?”

Rogers, like you, seemed unable to look away from the carcass, but for entirely different reasons. He appeared to be studying it just as your husband had been.

“It’s not Schröder!” Bucky yelled.

“Where the fuck’s he— shit.”

Suddenly, an unknown assailant opened fire on the two men from the opposite end of the room. Both dove for cover, but not before Bucky grabbed you and dragged you, full-force, behind the sofa. It didn’t seem there was time for sweet words or consolations, his eyes wide and half-crazed as they bore into yours just in front of you.

“Don’t move,” he barked, readjusting his grip on his gun in one hand and feeling around all over your sides with the other. On seeing and feeling no trauma, he nodded his head and moved his hand to your cheek, just briefly.

“Honey, I need you here—right here for me, alright? Don’t move a muscle,” he spoke low as Steve covered from above, rapid-fire shots ringing out on both sides.

Rushed and furious as he was, he couldn’t help but linger on that face a half-second longer than he intended. You were shaking your head and hugging your knees, meeting his eyes with what seemed to be reproach.

“You promised, Bucky,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

You were in shock, that was what it was, he kept telling himself. You didn’t know what you were saying, and he needed to turn away to help Steve, but then you were eyeing that body—that man he could’ve sworn was Schröder when he’d pumped him full of bullets—and you were turning back to him with unmistakable disgust.

He would’ve fallen to his knees and begged his wife for forgiveness if there weren’t more pressing matters at hand. Like your life and his, and Steve’s—and Sam’s, now, bursting onto the scene with a semi-automatic rifle of his own as he helped his friend gun down the last of the stragglers. Bucky knew he had to help them, too.

So he’d stumbled back on his feet, less conscious than acting on pure impulse, and he joined in on the gunfire.

He reckoned he liked it. However long it lasted. He just rolled his shoulders once and sent the rounds flying; he ducked and he moved and he stood and he crouched and he fired every shot as if it were as easy to him as breathing. He didn’t think. When the three of them had cleared the lounge, and Sam and Steve tore off toward the two or three remaining rooms at the rear of the suite, Bucky still wasn’t fully present in his body. All he knew was that his clip was near-empty and his side was in pain—and the room they had emptied was safe. For you.

For you—where the fuck had you gone?!

Bucky barreled past the spot behind the couch where you were supposed to have been, but weren’t, and made a beeline for the closest room over. And nothing. More empty, threadbare, and bloody rooms filled with bodies that didn’t belong to you, and shortly he was yelling for Sam or Steve or anyone in that massacred suite to help him find his wife. The breaths in his chest were heaving.

He turned once, twice, eyes roaming wildly and hand grabbing fast for more ammo. He couldn’t find any more. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow, and just when he turned to call for backup once more, he paused.

In his periphery, he saw two forms.

He stopped fully and turned to the side.

If it was fear he had felt just then, he wasn’t aware of it. Instead, it seemed a white-hot and blinding ire had taken over, and rather than grow timid, or afraid, he went cold.

“Bucky…don’t,” you managed in a strangled, hoarse tone, throat visibly contained by a blade being held to it.

Behind you, a man stood masked and unflinchingly calm.

Bucky knew that wouldn’t do—no matter how hard or helplessly you pleaded with him then not to do it, please don’t do it, Bucky, please. All he heard in his head was the throb of his pulse, and all he saw before him was red.

He fired without a second thought.

The round just grazed the edge of the man’s cheek.

Bucky swore. Tried to fire his gun again. It was empty.

Still not thinking, much less hearing his wife’s desperate cries for him to spare the man’s life, he grabbed the smallest, sharpest object that was closest to him and charged your would-be attacker head on.

Both men fell to the floor, but only Bucky was mobile.

Only Bucky held the weapon now, as his opponent’s knife had been lost somewhere in the skirmish, and he was wielding it now faster than he ever had before, he thought—an ice pick, of all fucking things—driving it into the man’s face and neck and chest without the slightest regard for anything else.

Somewhere far outside his mind, he heard you scream. Felt you claw at his arm, grip at his shirt, make some wild, shrill, and vehement pleas that he couldn’t begin to understand in this state, and he continued. Hadn’t even considered slowing down until the man’s carotid was shredded in two and spewing blood all over his front.

Bucky couldn’t be sure how long it lasted like that; all he remembered was stumbling back, energy spent, fist still holding the pick and eyes duly glued to the body he’d just stabbed through and maimed until no life was left.

He saw you crawl over the body.

He wanted to warn you not to touch it. Lifted a hand and tried his best to form words, but nothing came out.

He watched you lift the mask.

From that point on, he was certain he had to have been seeing things that weren’t really there. Trauma-induced psychosis, he tried to assuage himself silently—that was the only explanation for the scene unfolding before him. Surely it couldn’t be you cupping that face, pinching that skin, shaking that cold and lifeless, blood-drenched frame beneath you as a sob racked through your own.

That signet ring on a pinky couldn’t have been real.

Bucky didn’t want to believe that gruesome discovery made manifest before him—in many ways, he couldn’t—but then it was painted clear as day as the cries endured, nothing changed, and a helpless, frantic wail rang out:

“DAD!”

—

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes

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fyodior · 1 year

Text

MY TURN!

✩ pairing: dazai x afab reader x chuuya

✩ cw: threesome, rough sex, spanking, creampies, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), fem pet names, dubcon-ish, UNGODLY amounts of cum

✩ notes: breedtober fic 1 !! this concept has been brewing in my head for a WHILE. enjoy!

✩ wc: 1.6k

want more of breedtober?

it all started with an argument, that led to a dare - one you didn’t have the pleasure of being present for or aware of.

who can get her pregnant first?

or rather,

if we both fuck her, whose sperm will take?

you had messed around with both dazai and chuuya more than once - both under the incredibly persuasive influence of chuuya’s finely aged wine, and under no influence at all. unless you count the insatiable and unbearable lust for the two men who made no effort to conceal their desires for you. but you’d never fucked them both at the same time

and this plan - it was a disgusting, vile, deplorable plan, especially under the guise of just a good, fun night. ‘let’s just pass around a bottle of chardonnay and see where the night goes,’ they had said, despite knowing exactly where the night was going to go. but fuck did it feel good.

“ch-chuuya,” you moaned, stuttering as he fucked you mercilessly from the back. one hand dug deep into the plush of your hip to pull your ass back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts, while the other slapped your ass so hard you shivered each time.

the sound of skin-on-skin filled the bedroom as he bottomed out with every thrust, burying his entire cock in you until the ginger puff of hair at the base tickled against your skin.

“yeah, darlin’? that feel good?” he smirked, picking up the pace and rewarding you with yet another harsh spank.

and you wanted to scream, wanted to cry out a yes, yes! chuuya, harder! but, you couldn’t, and dazai made sure of that by pushing your head down rather hard as you sucked him off.

having been so distracted with the way chuuya fucked you good and deep, you truthfully weren’t paying attention to dazai’s cock, and it drove him to a level of anger and possessiveness, almost jealousy, he can’t remember the last time he felt. and he normally wasn’t a head pusher - he really wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to lose to chuuya.

you had only been indulging in occasional kitten licks and sucking on dazai’s angry red tip, as every time you tried to venture farther, chuuya seemed to angle his hips differently or spank you hard to pull your attention back to him, and dazai could not and would not have that.

saliva and precum poured off your bottom lip as dazai fucked your throat in time with chuuya’s thrusts. you choked and gagged as he gripped your hair and thrust up into your mouth, grunting wildly as your throat tightened and spasmed around his aching length.

“you have no fucking clue how sexy you look right now, doll, swallowing my cock, taking it so fucking good,” dazai smirked, tightening his grip on your hair. chuuya rolled his eyes.

dark streaks of mascara stained your cheeks from your tears, a sight that only drove dazai even madder, and one chuuya was getting more and more jealous of. but he knows there was no reason to - not yet, at least. he had the center stage, the spotlight on him as a hand snaked down underneath you to massage your throbbing, neglected clit as he fucked you hard and deep. and his cum was what was going to fill your cunt first, allowing him to succeed in their fucked up little dare - he was more than sure of it. just the thought of it, alongside the way you clenched deliciously around his length, was pushing him over the edge.

“shit, baby, gonna cum,” chuuya muttered right into your ear as he draped his chest over your back, kissing up your neck. “want me to fill up your pussy? breed you like a bitch in heat?” he was going to regardless of your answer. dazai scoffed, but chuuya ignored him easily.

you likely would’ve protested, and indeed had the thought to instruct chuuya to pull out, but your mouth was too busy for you to do anything but gasp as thick ropes painted the walls of your cunt a milky white. he made sure to press his cock in all the way inside you and tilt your hips down, the tip brushing against your cervix, to ensure his cum seeped right into your ready and waiting womb. and you couldn’t be mad about it - not when he continued to whisper dirty, filthy words into your ear as he played with your clit.

“my turn,” dazai smirks, tugging at your hair to prompt you to pull off his still aching hard-on. you finish up with a long lick on the underside of his cock along the pulsing vein, smiling up at him as you breathe heavily.

truthfully, your pussy already felt too used and abused from chuuya, but you were starting to ache for dazai too. luckily, the man was happy to oblige.

chuuya begrudgingly pulled out to allow dazai to take his turn, regretting not just beating his ass and taking you for himself, filling you with his cum and his cum only.

repositioning you to lay you down on your back, dazai smiled at you, playing up his irresistible charm before leaning in to press a long kiss to your lips. “gonna make you all fucking mine, pretty girl,” he smirks, voice low and gravely. “make you beg for my cum this time, yeah?”

you could only whine in response, yearning for him - at this point you had no fucking clue who you wanted more, but it had stopped mattering. when they both were treating you like this.

“hurry it up, dumbass,” chuuya muttered, arms crossed as he sat on the edge of the bed. he had an idea for what he wanted to do with you as dazai took his turn, but he couldn’t get to it with dazai yammering in your ear like that.

“don’t worry, doll,” dazai sighed, caressing your cheek. “he’s just jealous.”

“the fuck i am,” chuuya gripes, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“just fuck me, dazai, please,” you whined, gripping his bandaged arms. and there’s no way he could say no to that.

spreading your legs wide, he lined up his cock before sinking into you easily, already stretched and prepped from your previous round. it was a conscious choice not to acknowledge how he was using chuuya’s cum as lube.

having already been picturing this moment since they dragged you into bed, dazai built up a pace fast, and you curled your legs around his waist to ground yourself as he jostled you around.

“so fucking tight, baby,” he gasped, gripping your waist. “i know you wanna take my cum so fucking bad, fill your pussy ‘til it can’t hold any more.” he was nearly babbling to himself at that point, mind reeling with how good you felt.

“shut it, shithead,” chuuya hissed, deciding it was his time to join in. he’d never, ever admit it, but he was getting impossibly turned on watching dazai fuck you senseless, and his dick was already chubbing up at the sight. and the way you moaned and screwed your face tight, shit.

climbing over you, chuuya placed his knees on either side of your head to hover over you, his heavy cock right in front of your face.

“y’re gonna take it just like this, darlin’,” he smirked gripping his length and prodding at your lips with the tip. it was a bit like trying to hit a moving target with how hard dazai was fucking you, but chuuya didn’t give a shit. he just needed to feel your mouth.

despite your poor throat already feeling bruised and sore, you opened up willingly, digging your fingers into his toned thighs in a feeble attempt to stabilize yourself. dazai only glared as chuuya lowered himself further to allow you to suck in his cock, wishing he had chosen that position himself. he chose not to let chuuya get to him though, just pushed your thighs further apart to allow better access.

“that’s right, baby, take it all in,” chuuya coaxed as you choked on his girth but persevered anyway. his thighs burned a bit due to the unnatural squatting position, but he couldn’t care less - he was already embarrassingly close to cumming down your throat.

dazai loathed the fact that you weren’t paying much attention to him at all, deciding to spit on his fingers and rub quick circles around your clit, making you gasp and moan around chuuya’s cock.

“feel good?” he smirked, massaging it in time with his thrusts.

you desperately wanted to respond, encourage the man touching your sweet spot, but chuuya commanded all your attention as he started to fuck your throat.

and in the same way chuuya couldn’t help but be turned on by dazai’s cock driving you mad, dazai was nearing his high hearing how you gagged and gurgled on chuuya’s length. the warning of his oncoming orgasm just barely left his lips before he was groaning and stuffing you with his seed this time. the tight clamp of your thighs around his waist tightened and your toes curled as you felt the hot cum leak out of you while his fingers pulled you closer to your own high.

you had never felt so full in your life - dazai’s cock still buried in your cunt alongside two heavy loads of cum, and chuuya’s cock stuffing your mouth, alongside his hot cum sliding down your throat.

the two men eyed each other knowingly as they wiped your spent body clean, washing away all the splattered cum minus the loads that seeped out of you - and maybe dazai even used two fingers to push it in a little deeper.

both incredibly cocky men, they were both certain it would be their seed that took - but they’d have to wait nine months and see.

#dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai smut #chuuya smut #soukoku x reader #soukoku smut #bsd smut #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #breedtober 2023

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doromoni · 4 months

Text

Off Track Pace | MV1 , ?

Ships Max Verstappen x presenter! Reader , ? x presenter! Reader , Platonic! Charles Leclerc x presenter! Reader

Genre : Fluff , Angst

Sub tags : mutual pinning , She fell too early , He fell too late,

Summary : A new f1 presenter and journalist has entered the paddock and she brings chaos along the way. And as competition looms , will the current Champion be as fast outside the track?

Face claim: Sofia Wylie

A/N : I’m so sorry luvs! I’m working on updating Clash of Champions , i promise ~ it’s my uni’s finals exams so I gotta focus on that first… so here’s a peace offering.

Part 2.

Media day, usually on a Thursday — a day that most Formula 1 drivers dread. A day where cameras followed their every move, interviews with journalists that twisted their every word and silly PR stunts forced on them by their teams. It used to be just all racing and winning podiums, but modern Formula 1 is all about media politics and sponsorships.

If you were to ask any driver on the grid if they were given the chance not to do PR, they would say yes to skipping it. But not everything about media day is horrendous.

Not when a new motorsports journalist joins the paddock that was an absolute sweetheart and delight to have around. A natural on the job — she always made sure that every driver that she interviewed was comfortable and enjoying their time with her and the segment.

the.Y/N

liked by skysportsf1 , lissiemackintosh, f1 , and 689,270 others

the.Y/N first day on the job? . i’m not nervous, you are! (She said literally shaking)

skysportsf1 Welcome to the team Y/N! ❤️

the.Y/N thank you kind employers. 🤍

lissiemackintosh Babe!! It’s finally official. Congratulations!

the.Y/N Thanks to you Babe!! I swear I would’ve been lost without you 😭

User1 who is she?

the.Y/N literally no one

User2 Ohhhh a new commentator? 🤔

User3 maybe she’s a journalist?

scuderriaferrari the kids had fun. They want their clay statues on display!

User2 Clay statues?? Hello?? Wut?

User3 Same question, Clay statues??

the.Y/N wait and see 🤷‍♀️ , the interview would drop tomorrow? Maybe~

User4 Its her first day and she literally had an interview with Charles and Carlos in Ferrari???

the.Y/N well no , the first interview was with Lewis Hamilton … so. 🤭

User5 WHAT?? Ok , queen slay!

User4 damnn , imagine being new to your field and already interviewing the big guys.

mclaren Do us next please 🙋‍♂️

redbullracing get in line!

the.Y/N gotta stop by Aston first , sorry besties.

User6 OK WHAT IS HAPPENING, ms. Y/N who are your connections 😭 i want in.

User7 why are all the teams here??

Y/N L/N was the F1 presenter and journalist who put drivers willingly out of their comfort zones and made them try something new. You genuinely loved what you do and you were passionate about it. You never showed partiality among the drivers, you treated everyone with the same attitude — this earned the respect of all drivers on the grid.

You were quickly becoming a paddock favorite. The fans enjoyed the content you put out and the drivers looked forward to your interview when they saw your name on their schedule.

Interviewing with you usually meant cheat meals and unusual activities that you thought they would like.

the.Y/N

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 740,155 others

the.Y/N maybe bowling isn’t the best idea. @charles_leclerc you suck, ngl. New vid out on Monday at the sky sports channel🤍

charles_leclerc i hate you ❤️

the.Y/N no you don’t 😌

charles_leclerc no, i don’t

User1 I love their dynamic so much!! I need more of the Paddock siblings pleaseee

User2 I can’t wait for more of Y/N bullying Charles into weird things and Ferrari doing nothing about it🤣

landonorris but why is charles in a cowboy costume?

the.Y/N i dunno? He just showed up in that 🤷‍♀️

charles_leclerc You told me we were riding horses and you wanted me to wear smth cowboy!!

the.Y/N oh yeah! Lmao

landonorris should i feel bad?

the.Y/N Nope. He’s happy either way. Aren’t you @charles_leclerc?

User2 NOT THE LMAO . Y/N thank you being you

User3 Y/N giving us Cowboy Charles , yes ma’am

User3 JUST DATE ALREADY!

the.Y/N EW. No

charles_leclerc Ok , the ew was unnecessary. But same. No thanks :)) i’m not dating my sister .

User4 Charles call y/n his sister 🥺

However, No matter how much you tried to keep things professional by being just a driver: journalist, something your boss commented during a quick meeting because fans kept shipping you with every driver. What you found weird is that most drivers you see as older brothers and some even uncles (don’t tell Nando). Plus most of them had girlfriends!

Nevertheless, your relationship with them seems to always end up with them hanging around your office at Sky, whenever they are free. Even the older drivers like Nando, Lewis and even Nico and Kevin use your office as an escape from the chaos of their motorhomes.

You didn’t mind hosting the older drivers in your room, as they were usually tame and kept to themselves as they read the books on your shelves in peace. They usually plop themselves down your couch and place the oversized plush you always bring on their lap. They always brought you snacks, so you looked forward to the times when their heads popped in your door and asked if they could come in.

But when the younger drivers visit your office? And if they came in groups — which they usually do. Oh boy, it was either a clusterfuck of them stealing snacks from your secret stash or your office becoming a den for hot gossip in the paddock usually led by the one and only Charles Leclerc.

Case in point. You now have Charles, Carlos, Max and to your surprise Checo in your office. The older Spanish-speaking driver was a rare visitor, but a welcome one nonetheless.

But considering the topic in discussion, you understood the presence of the two Red Bull drivers.

You were in the middle of typing away on your laptop when suddenly they barged in with ice cream tubs and spoons at hand then found a spot to sit and made themselves comfortable.

“Is Newey leaving Red Bull?” Charles asked Max and Checo, as he scooped a bite from his ice cream.

“We have no clue! Christian is saying nothing to us. Nothing” Max exclaimed exasperated as Checo nodded in agreement.

“So Adrian Newey is moving to Ferrari?” You questioned as you pointed your spoon at Charles

“Y/N, I love you like a sister and I know that you’re incredibly smart, but sometimes you are stupid. We’re clueless in Ferrari, hence my question ”

You threw your wooden spoon at the Monaco-born Ferrari driver. Which he easily avoided thanks to his fast reflexes. Freaking f1 reflexes!

“ I wasn't the person who got named for being stupid— HEY! Max give that back!! You don't even like salted caramel” You were trying to rebut Charles’ insult but were distracted when Max took your ice cream for himself.

Max just shrugged and placed his half-consumed chocolate brownie fudge ice cream in your hands — his spoon still in it. You didn’t complain further as you took his spoon and took a bite yourself. Yum! Brownie fudge is your favorite.

“Dude, what is even going on inside Red Bull? What was Horner under investigation for?” Carlos pressed on, trying to find answers. You were curious yourself

“Everyone is being weird. They’re keeping things from us. “ Checo added. You knew that they were truly left in the dark because if they knew they would’ve spilled instantly. NDAs be damned.

“Every interview, people keep asking if we know something! one more journalist and I swear I’ll run them over with my car! I hate each one of them” Max grumbled to himself.

You coughed. You knew that you were an exception but you couldn’t help but mess around with your friends.

“Don’t even, Y/N. You know you don’t count. “ Max waved you off.

“Wow! Thank you for that babe. Way to make a girl feel special” you said jokingly to the Dutch driver, as you winked dramatically. To which he only rolled his eyes — making you and the rest of the drivers laugh.

Max was immune to your flirting, unfortunately. It sucked especially when you had a tiny …. Ok big … HUGE crush on the 3 time world champion.

Max to you was like an Older brother’s best friend — Where you were the little sister crushing on him and you didn’t have a chance. You knew that like the other drivers, he just saw you as a little sister. But still you couldn’t help but fall the star driver of Red Bull.

Everything started when you brought your niece to the paddock because your sister had an emergency. You were scheduled to interview Checo in the RB motorhome and your niece was starting to feel fussy and you were slightly panicking on what to do— when Max suddenly came to your rescue and took your niece out to ice cream.

You admit you found Max attractive even before— like so damn attractive, but that was it— nothing more. But when you found Max carrying your niece in his arms as they played inside his garage, you knew that you were a goner to the charms of Max Verstappen.

You have been pinning for Max for a year now. You wished that you had the confidence and courage to just confess. But the fear of rejection freighted you, so you settled to just keep your friendship with the devastatingly handsome Red Bull champion.

As time went on, and nothing but friendship between you and Max developed — You’ve come to terms with the process of letting go of your feelings. Even when you’ve already met his mom and sister, hung out in his yacht and spent nights over his place when movie nights with Charles and his girlfriend went too late. You knew not to think anything of it.

And you were right to think nothing of it. Because not a week later, rumors had spread all over the paddock that Kelly Piquet had set her eyes on Max. You didn’t believe it at first, but when you saw with your own two eyes them engaged talking happily in his garage. The sparkle in Max’s eyes had solidified your will to move on.

A few weeks had passed and Kelly’s presence was constant in the paddock. Everyone had speculated that she had become Max’s girlfriend. But no one was sure, not even you — Max had been silent about it.

You tried to be happy for them you did. But you can’t blame yourself for wishing that it was you instead. Even to this day, you are still trying to forget and bury your feelings for Max.

“Y/N? Y/N? Oi Y/N” You suddenly were startled out of your thoughts. You forgot that you were still with the drivers in your office.

“What? Sorry, I just remembered something. What did you say?” You asked Charles as he was the one who called you.

“I asked if you had an interview today” Upon hearing the words of the Monegasque, your eyes grew wide as you remembered that you did have a job to do and you were indeed almost late.

“SHIT! I DO I’m late! “ You suddenly sprang up from your seat and quickly gathered the things you needed — while the 4 drivers looked at you with amusement.

“Who’s scheduled for you today, Y/N?” Max had also sat up from his seat and gave you an opened bottle of water.

You received the bottle from Max. You didn’t have to thank the driver — just one look from you and he knew.

The other drivers looked amongst themselves as they saw your exchange with Max. Everyone had a knowing look on their faces.

“I'm going to Mclaren today! I have the whole day with Lando. “ You said as you closed your once abandoned laptop and placed it in your bag — the one Max gave you on your birthday.

“What have you planned for Lando, Y/N?” Checo asked curiously. He still remembered his interview where you both made bracelets and stuffed toys for his daughters — his daughters loved it and went to sleep with it every single day.

“Oh! I’m taking Lando to a rage room, then drive-thru for food.” You explained happily to the older Mexican driver.

“Which part of that is the interview?” Charles had interjected

“While we eat the food in the parking lot, duh,” You said as if they should’ve already known. Well, they should by now.

“You know Y/N, Lando likes you right? ” Carlos had suddenly dropped a bomb on you. You didn’t expect it at all.

“What?” Max had suddenly said — catching all of you off guard. You didn’t understand, why Max had reacted so suddenly. But you pushed that aside for now as you continued to stuff everything you need in the bag

“What do you mean, Lando likes me?” You asked Carlos, with your eyebrows scrunched together.

“He likes you. Like you know? Take you out on dates and all that” Carlos replied as he gauged your reaction.

“Ohhhh, that’s cute! how did you even know about it, Carlos” you asked not taking any of it seriously.

“Cute?” You heard Max muttered under his breath.

“He told me. I won’t spoil anything else. I’m not even supposed to say that he likes you, but oh well.” Carlos shrugged as he finished off his ice cream.

“What do you think about Lando?” Charles suddenly asked you. The Ferrari driver leaned forward

“Will you date him if he asks you ?” Checo then joined the conversation.

“ You should say yes, I mean you two are the same-“ Charles had suddenly grown excited.

“Ok whoa, calm down dads. He hasn’t asked anything yet! “ you exclaimed

“But will you say yes if he asked?” Max then asked you, his eyes piercing your soul. After all of the other questions, Max was the one to Catch you off guard.

“Uh yes, I guess? I mean, why not? Lando is fun And he is single right … ” You were panicking so you said yes, even when you knew that you weren’t ready for anything like that since you still held feelings for Max.

“ YES! I thought that you-“ Charles wasn't able to finish his sentence when you cut him off.

“OK, bye guys! See you later. I need to go!” And just like that you were gone, leaving the four drivers in your office — not letting them question you further.

“I swear, that kid is weird.” Charles shakes his head from side to side at your actions.

“Lando likes Y/N?” Max had asked again just to make sure that he had heard the Spaniard correctly.

“ Lando is a good kid. They’ll make a good couple, no?” Checo asked no one in particular, as Max was not moving from where you left him.

“Wait, wait… since when did Lando like Y/N?” Max asked confused, looking green with jealousy. Fingers tingling as they clenched on itself

“Well he was interested in Y/N since the beginning but he backed off since everyone thought that you two had a thing” Carlos explained as he stood up and went to raid your snack stash.

“Yeah, but now you’re with the daughter of Piquet. what’s her name again? KELLY! yes, kelly. So Lando is taking his shot” Charles added

“You knew? Charles, you knew about Lando?” Max was aghast at the knowledge that was just receiving now.

“Well yeah? I was the one to encourage him to ask Y/N out. ” Charles shrugged nonchalantly. He knew about your feelings for the Red Bull driver, but he also saw how hurt you were when Max started seeing Kelly out of nowhere. Charles wanted to help his friends — specially the ones that he grew to love like his own sibling in any way that he could. Plus it was time for Y/N to have fun, and Lando Norris is exactly that.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Max was conflicted. His emotions growing uncontrollably by the second.

“ Mate, we haven’t seen you for how many weeks! You were always out with your new girlfriend. Even Y/N had no contact with you “ Carlos explained to Max.

silence filled the room, when suddenly pings of notifications sounded all over the rooms.

And Charles couldn’t help but whistle.

“Well he sure does move past” he had added.

Your story

As Max looked at his phone. Your Ig story flashed. His heart had started to hurt and the feeling of a pit in his stomach grew. it was as if someone punched him right in the gut.

And another notification ping had popped . And it only made Max’s stomach churn even further.

landonorris

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museanddream · 10 days

Text

One Night - part 2 || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

Summary: When you complete a dream transfer to Barcelona, there’s only one problem - you have to learn to coexist with your ex-hookup and her new girlfriend.

Warnings: 🔞 | fingering, oral sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, degrading language

Word count: 3.8k

Part 2 / ?

part 1 here

Instead of going straight in for the kiss when Ona asks you for it, you continue to take your time, savouring the moment. One of your hands, previously running up and down Ona’s thighs, rises to her head, tracing the back of your fingers against her cheek before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and cupping her jaw.

Ona’s eyelids are heavy with want now, her lips slightly parted in anticipation of a kiss, while you think you can feel the way she’s putting all her effort into not rutting her hips against your lap.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper into the space between your lips. “I’ve thought about this a lot too. Ever since I joined the team, every time you smiled at me, every time you helped me, there’s been a part of me that wondered what it’d be like to have you.”

You’re acutely aware of Lucy’s presence on the other side of the room, but you’re not fazed by making the admission in front of her.

“In fact, if I knew you wanted this too, I would’ve made sure it happened a lot sooner.”

Ona’s eyelashes flutter and you can hear the shaky breath she lets out, before uttering again, “Please.”

You’ve never heard Ona sound like that, a slight whimper in her voice. You want to hear it over and over again.

As your lips meet Ona’s for the first time, there’s a brief moment of panic when you realise that you’re kissing someone in front of their girlfriend, then all that washes away as you realise that you’re kissing Ona.

Her lips are impossibly soft. Softer than they have any right to be. You almost lose yourself right there, if not for the tiny voice in the back of your mind telling you to enjoy this and do it right.

There’ll be time to lose control later.

As it is, your hand tightens slightly against Ona’s jaw, fingers toying with the soft baby hairs at the nape of her neck while your lips coax Ona’s mouth open. She’s pliant against you and when you swipe your tongue into her mouth a second later, you swallow the soft moan that escapes her throat.

Your other hand, resting fairly innocently on Ona’s upper thigh, slides back to cup her ass. Her hands, draped over your shoulders, respond by cupping your face and deepening the kiss, the wet slide of her tongue against yours eliciting a gasp from you.

You squeeze her ass through her shorts in an attempt to get her closer and the result is that she grinds down into your lap. But the problem isn’t that Ona isn’t close enough, it’s the layers of clothing in your way.

Breaking the kiss, you move both hands to Ona’s waist and start to lift the hem of her shirt. Ona is only too happy to help, tugging her t-shirt over her head in record time and flinging it behind her with very little care for where it actually ends up.

Chuckling at her eagerness, though pleased with the ego boost it gives you, you stroke a hand down her cheek and say, “You’re desperate for this, aren’t you? Does Lucy not give you enough attention?” You pause, wondering how hard you can push this, then decide to go for it anyway. “Does she not fuck you well enough?”

“Watch it,” Lucy warns you from the other side of the room.

You drag your gaze across to Lucy for the first time since Ona sat in your lap and challenge her with your eyes.

“Or what?”

You know from personal experience just how much fun it can be to wind Lucy up, what kind of dominant mood she gets in when her buttons are pushed in the bedroom. It’s the competitiveness in her, she likes to win everything and doesn’t like it when she’s not in control.

So you know exactly what you’re doing by questioning her sexual prowess, the kind of reaction you’re hoping it’ll provoke from her later. You’re just banking on the fact that she loves her girlfriend enough to wait until after Ona has gotten at least a little bit of what she wants from you before Lucy decides she has a point to prove.

“You’re talking a lot for somebody who’s barely even touched Ona yet,” Lucy challenges you right back.

And if Lucy wants to play it like that, then so be it.

“I am touching her, though,” you point out, as your fingers drop to the button on the front of Ona’s shorts to deftly pop it open.

You scratch your nails lightly against Ona’s abs and she twitches away from the touch when you pass over a ticklish spot. When your hand reaches the waistband of her underwear where her shorts now hang open, you pause.

“Can I?”

“Sí,” Ona answers breathlessly.

You don’t need further encouragement. Your fingers dip past the elastic and lower still as you touch her for the first time.

“Oh,” you say, as your fingers encounter the abundant wetness between Ona’s legs. You could tell that she was turned on, but didn’t expect her to be quite so wet already. “Who’s all this for? Who gets you this wet? Me or Lucy?”

Distracted by your fingertips, Ona starts slowly rocking her hips in an effort to get some friction and you’re just about to prompt her again for an answer when she lets out a breathy, “You.”

You reward Ona briefly by brushing against her clit, but then withdraw your hand from her underwear completely. Making deliberate eye contact with Lucy past Ona’s shoulder, you bring your shiny fingers to your lips and make an exaggerated show of licking them clean of Ona’s slick.

Lucy’s jaw clenches as she struggles not to say something but you can tell from the look in her eyes that she’s turned on as much as she might be jealous.

You’ll feel her wrath later, you’re sure of it, but instead of letting yourself get too excited about that, you turn your attention back to Ona.

Stroking the back of your fingers, sticky now with the remnants of your saliva, down Ona’s cheek, you ask, “Show me to your bedroom?”

Ona gives you a look like she’s about to beg you to fuck her right here on the couch and to be honest, if she asked you to then you’d do just that, but then she slides off your lap and reaches for your hand to help you to your feet.

She starts to lead you towards the door but you use your joined hands to pull her close, drawing her in for another kiss.

It starts out as a performance for Lucy, your hand sliding down the back of Ona’s shorts and your teeth catching her lower lip to draw out a gasp, but Ona’s free hand claws at your waist and her tongue swipes into your mouth and suddenly Ona is all you can think about.

She clings to you like she needs you to survive, like she might melt away without you there to ground her, but you’re having a pretty tough time keeping yourself present too. Ona is just everything and everywhere, fingers digging into your sides, tongue sliding against yours, the soft noises that escape from her lips between kisses rushing straight to your brain like a drug.

Maybe it’s for the best that Lucy seems happy to simply spectate for now. You might lose your mind completely when she eventually decides to join in.

“Bedroom?” you mumble against Ona’s lips.

“This way,” Ona answers breathlessly.

She leads you down the hall, pretty much dragging you through the door into the bedroom, only letting go of your hand so that she can sit on the edge of the bed and look up and you pleadingly with those big eyes.

You aren’t sure if Lucy is following until you hear soft footsteps right behind you, which gives you just a split second warning for the strong hand that grabs you by the neck and pushes you into the wall, fingers wrapped around your throat just tightly enough to assert control.

Lucy doesn’t speak but the message is clear in her eyes. Remember who she belongs to.

And then Lucy leans in, kissing you suddenly.

It’s immediately more intense than the kisses you exchanged with Ona. Lucy doesn’t do anything half-heartedly and kissing is no different. With a point to prove, she catches your lower lip between her teeth until you’re gasping, then swipes her tongue into your mouth, her grip tightening slightly around your throat. It’s not enough to choke you, but just enough to remind you of her strength and attempt to assert her dominance over you before you fuck her girlfriend.

With Lucy’s lips on yours, you’re immediately taken back several years. The kiss is so familiar, so Lucy. The way her mouth glides against yours, the way her tongue plunders your mouth and makes you weak at the knees, is a reminder of all the reasons why it worked between you all those years ago, but also why it didn’t.

You were both too passionate, too competitive, too stubborn when it came to admitting you were wrong, for it to ever work as anything more than friends with benefits. Of course, that all translated into some pretty damn good sex, the likes of which you’ve never quite been able to match with any of the girls you’ve been with since Lucy.

Then there’s Ona. Just as passionate, just as competitive, but with a softer edge. She matches Lucy’s playful side but also complements Lucy’s stubbornness with pure affection. Their hearteyes in training sometimes makes you nauseous but now, having been kissed by them both in such quick succession, you think you understand exactly why their relationship works, exactly why they’re so head over heels in love with each other.

And you’re starting to understand where you fit into all this. You’ll do anything for Ona if she pleads and flashes those beautiful brown eyes at you, you’ll challenge Lucy where Ona might just submit willingly. Lucy and Ona may be perfect for each other but there’s a place for you too, even if it’s only for one night.

Maybe what you and Lucy were missing all those years ago was Ona.

“Go on then,” Lucy says, relinquishing her grip around your throat and giving you a little nudge towards the bed where Ona is patiently waiting. “Show her what you’ve got.”

Ona has kicked off her shorts fully now and lies on the bed in just her underwear, legs bent at the knees and slightly parted as she props her weight up on her elbows behind her. The lust in her eyes from watching Lucy kiss you is obvious and acts as an invitation that you can’t turn down.

Crawling onto the bed, you tug your own t-shirt over your head. Your eyes rove down her body, taking in the lean muscles, the freckles that decorate every inch of skin, the way that her knees widen to allow you to settle between her legs.

“Beautiful,” you tell her.

Ona breaks eye contact, blushing under your praise.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” you tease her, covering her body with your own and placing your palms flat on the mattress on either side of her head to hold your weight above her. “Not when we’re just getting started.”

Ona’s hand comes up to your now bare waist, fingers digging into your side as you lean down to kiss her again. The hot slide of your tongue against hers draws a gasp from Ona and she hooks an eager leg around your hip, trying to draw you even closer. You allow it, adjusting your position so that one of your thighs makes contact with Ona’s clothed pussy, letting her grind against the muscle of your leg, pressed so tightly together that you can feel how wet she is through the thin cotton of her underwear.

Breaking the kiss but continuing to rock slowly against her, you ask, “You’ve wanted this for a while, yes?”

Ona nods, then says, “Sí.” You feel the hot puff of breath as she exhales against your face.

“What do you want? Tell me.”

“You. This.”

“Just this?” you ask, already knowing the answer. “Be more specific. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Ona doesn’t tell you, but she does reach for your hand, wrapping her fingers around your wrist and guiding you between her legs. You adjust slightly to give yourself enough room to slip your hand past the waistband of her underwear, and though you’ve already touched her here once, you still sigh in delight at the wetness that immediately coats your fingertips.

“Like this?” you ask her, exploring without any real purpose, though the little gasp that Ona lets out when you brush across her clit sends a jolting reminder of your own arousal between your legs.

“Yes,” Ona encourages you. “And…”

She trails off, head falling back against the pillow and eyes shut in bliss. When she doesn’t continue, you pause the exploration of your fingers, needing to know what else she was going to say.

“And what?”

Ona’s eyelashes flutter open and she holds your gaze for a few long seconds, before she tilts her head to the side in embarrassment as she murmurs, “And … inside.”

You withdraw your hand entirely, though only so you can sit back on your feet and pull Ona’s underwear down her legs. She helps you, bringing her legs up closer to her chest and kicking them away when it gets caught around one of her ankles, until her lower half is completely bare for you.

“Spread your legs for me,” you instruct Ona. Remembering that Lucy is in the room too, you add, “Show Lucy how wet you are.”

Ona pushes her knees outwards to obey your instructions and you admire her glistening folds, hardly able to believe that Ona is this turned on, mostly because of you.

You glance across at Lucy for her reaction. She’s settled herself comfortably into the chair in the corner and seems content to stay there for the perfect view while you fuck her girlfriend.

“Please,” Ona whines, drawing your attention back to her.

It’s an ego boost to have Ona begging for you already, and almost as much of a turn-on to hear the way that Lucy speaks up from behind you again and says, “Desperate little slut. Go on, fuck her before she actually explodes.”

The last bit is directed at you and while a part of you doesn’t like that Lucy already thinks she can tell you what to do, especially when you’re the one who has got her girlfriend pleading to be touched, your own interest in giving Ona what she wants wins out over any desire to chat back to Lucy.

You settle between Ona’s legs, taking your time to get comfortable as you lift her legs over your shoulders so you can wrap your arms around her strong thighs. She’s pliant under your touch, letting you easily coax her into position, and you reward her by forgoing the teasing, leaning straight in to lick one long stroke of your tongue through her folds from bottom to top.

Her hips buck off the bed and you link your hands together across her stomach to hold her down as you wrap your lips around her clit. You flutter your tongue against her, showing off for Ona at first, but when she jerks against your grip and lets out another throaty groan, you repeat the motion for Lucy’s benefit this time, pleased with the reactions you’re able to draw from her girlfriend.

Ona tastes divine. The sounds that ripple from her throat are as sweet as honey. If you could stay here, between her legs forever, then you would.

Exploring her slowly, you take note of the things that pull the best reactions from her, but not yet committing to any kind of meaningful rhythm. You’re happy to savour each moan, each jerk of her hips, without wanting to rush her towards any kind of climax.

You’re so caught up in the taste of Ona on your tongue that you almost forget about the other person in the room until Lucy speaks up.

“Are you inside her yet?” Lucy asks. “She likes to feel full. She’ll come quickly like that.”

You’d been quite content exploring Ona at your own pace as you discover what she likes and your instinct is to point that out to Lucy. But then one of Ona’s hands finds the back of your head, urging you to give her more.

And Ona’s pleasure is more important than scoring points against Lucy.

You move your head enough to give yourself the space to bring a hand into the mix. Ona whines at the momentary loss of contact, blunt nails clawing at your scalp, but that whine slips into a filthy groan when she feels your fingertips probe at her entrance.

“Sí,” she rasps. “Inside.”

You push inside with one finger, sliding in easily from how wet Ona is. She responds straight away with another moan and you only give her a few thrusts to adjust before you’re adding a second, eager to test Lucy’s comment about Ona liking to feel full. Sure enough, her hips buck up into your hand, so you use the other one, still splayed across Ona’s lower abdomen, to hold her down as you start working your tongue against her clit again.

“Fuck,” Ona exhales, flinging an arm across her face as she tries to writhe against you, then lets out a string of Catalan that you don’t understand, but you’re pretty sure you can still grasp the general meaning of.

“Does she feel good?” Lucy’s voice, somehow even deeper than usual, rasps from behind you.

You curl your fingers on the next thrust, drawing another broken groan from Ona’s throat.

“Sí,” Ona chokes out in response to her girlfriend’s question.

“How good?” Lucy asks. “Tell us. Tell her.”

You smile against Ona’s clit, mostly at how familiar this all feels. Lucy was exactly the same when you were sleeping with her before, never content to simply have the evidence of your arousal coating her fingers or lips, she would always demand for the extra ego boost of making you tell her before she allowed you to come.

“So good,” Ona answers. Her accent sounds thicker to you, her Spanish lilt somehow even more melodic than usual. “Feel so full. Fuck, I think I might come.”

Encouraged by Ona’s confession, and also wanting to show off to Lucy a little bit that you can get her girlfriend off in record time, you double down in your efforts, wrapping your lips around her clit again as your fingers increase their tempo.

“You close, yeah?” Lucy asks.

“Yes,” Ona hisses, her hips bucking in time with your thrusts. “Please, Lucy.”

You curl your fingers against the spot that made Ona writhe earlier, wanting to remind her that it should be your name falling from her lips.

Unexpectedly, Lucy seems to be on your side.

“Oh baby,” she lets out a little laugh. “It’s not me you should be asking.”

As you gaze up Ona’s body, past the ridges of her abs and the pretty flush on her chest and neck, she looks back down at you and your gazes meet. There’s a raw desperation in her eyes, almost like she’s on the verge of tears, like her world might actually end if she isn’t given permission to come in the next ten seconds.

Her hand tightens in your hair, holding you close against her, then Ona lets out a breathy, “Please.”

Continuing to pump your fingers into her, you lift your mouth to ask, “Please what?”

“Want to come,” Ona gasps. “You feel so good. Please let me come.”

You latch your lips around her clit and suckle gently in time with the rhythm of your fingers with one goal in mind. You want her to come, perhaps even more than she wants to come herself, and you can feel that she’s getting close from the way that she’s starting to tighten around your fingers.

“Go on,” you murmur against her. “I know you’re close. Come for me.”

As you return your tongue to her clit and curl your fingers, pulsing your fingertips against that spot inside her, you feel the dam break a split second before it actually does.

Ona comes with a debauched cry that fills the bedroom. With the fingers of one hand inside her, working her through the orgasm, your other hand isn’t strong enough on its own to hold her down. Her back arches, hips lifting off the bed as it wrecks her. You keep your mouth on her, your fingers steadily working her through the peak of it until it ebbs away into pure sensitivity, Ona collapsing spent against the bed as the hand in your hair tries to tug you away.

You press your lips against her inner thigh as you withdraw your fingers, gentle kisses against soft skin as the muscles beneath stop trembling.

After a few moments, Ona’s hand on the back of your head pulls at your hair again, trying to coax you up her body. And enamoured by the sight in front of you, Ona’s skin flushed and sheened with sweat, chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, and a look in her eyes that’s half-softness and half-hunger that tells you she’s still not satisfied with only having you once, you oblige her and crawl up the bed to meet her lips in a languid kiss.

“You good?” you murmur against her mouth, though the way that Ona hums at the taste of herself on your lips and keeps that hand firm in your hair to stop you from pulling away already gives you the answer.

You kiss each other lazily, without the same urgency as before, but far more intimately than you’ve ever kissed a first-time hookup before.

But because it’s Ona, it just feels right.

Ona bends one of her knees and hooks a leg around your hips. The wet smear you immediately feel against your thigh brings you right back into what this is. What you’ve just done, what’s yet to come, and perhaps most significantly, the thrum of arousal that aches between your own legs.

Pulling back from the kiss, though letting one of your hands drop to Ona’s thigh to keep it wrapped around you, you lean your forehead against Ona’s and murmur into the space between you.

“I want to fuck you with a strap. Would that be okay?”

Ona’s breath hitches in her throat, before she answers.

“Please.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #ona batlle x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze x ona batlle x reader #woso fanfics

443 notes · View notes

leclercsainzz · 10 months

Text

ILLICIT AFFAIRS PART 2

PAIRINGS: lando norris x gf!reader / tom blyth x fem!reader

TYPE: social media au

WARNING: // cheating implied

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

yourusername

liked by landonorris, tomblyth and 671,810 others

yourusername: the film is out! ❤️

tagged: @tomblyth

view 5,018 comments

user: seeing it tonight!!!

user: ya’ll see that kiss or??? 👀

oscarpiastri: do i still get those free tickets? 🤔

↳ yourusername: of course!

↳ landonorris: and me?

↳ oscarpiastri: you’re rich, shut up

user: wonder how @landonorris felt seeing his girlfriend kissing another guy like that

user: watched the movie last night and OMG

user: yn, do you prefer buzz cut or long hair on coriolanus?

↳ yourusername: buzz cut all the way!!!!!

↳ user: mother knows what’s up 😌

user: LOVED the movie!!

tomblyth: you’re truly phenomenal! ❤️

↳ yourusername: right back at you, my love ❤️

↳ user: STFU NSPAKSNDBFD

↳ user: @landonorris WHERE U AT, BRO???

user: “love” 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: not just “love” but “MY love” like?? 😭😭

user: watching it tomorrow, cannot wait!

user: her bf is stronger than me bc i would’ve been crying

user: DID YA’LL SEE THE KISS SCENE??? 🫣🫣🫣

↳ user: i was like 😮‍💨

↳ user: he kissed her like she was air 🫠 like the air he needs

user: the way tom’s looking at her in that third slide 😩😩

user: you both killed it, omg!!

↳ user: pov coryo took that personal 🤪

user: SNOW LANDS ON TOP, MF!

↳ user: on top of me, yes!

landonorris: you killed it, pretty girl ❤️

↳ yourusername: 😊

user: the difference between her responds to tom vs lando

↳ user: she’s over here calling tom “my love” while lando just gets some bs of emoji, i CANNOT 💀

user: lando be fighting for his girl’s affection, i swear

user: yn with tom 😩🥰🥰❤️😊😍😌😍😘🥵🥵😍🥰

↳ user: vs yn with lando 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

↳ user: i feel like she’s definitely in love with tom

↳ user: he’s also in love with her, its so obvious

user: tom NEEDED that kiss in order to breathe, i swear

↳ user: dude he kissed her with so much hunger and desperation had me giggling the whole time

↳ user: convinced that was just tom and yn

user: HAPPY RELEASE DAY YA’LL!!! ❤️❤️🐍

user: you and tom were truly phenomenal as snow and lucy

↳ yourusername: ❤️❤️

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 698,974 others

landonorris: fun times with MY girl! 😘

tagged: @yourusername

view 5,274 comments

user: he really said, “my girl”

user: is she attending next race??

user: he saw all the yntom shippers so he had to shut them up real quick, honestly as he should!

user: PARENTS ARE BETTER THAN EVER ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: what about tom? 😭😭 @yourusername

↳ user: girl, bffr

user: idc i’m still shipping yn and tom

user: lando said, “everyone can sit tf down bc she’s my girl”

yourusername: love yaa 😘

↳ landonorris: i love you too ❤️

↳ user: yntom shippers how we feeling??? 😭😭

user: idk why but her comments/replies to lando seem so dry??? like before she’d say the cutest shit ever and now it’s like she just comments bc she has no other choice

↳ user: seems like she’s falling out of love to me

user: @tomblyth GET YOUR GIRL, DONT GIVE UP

user: everyone who is constantly shipping yn and tom need to move on!! she’s literally happy in her relationship with lando

user: are they officially back together??

user: @tomblyth

user: she’s soo beautiful!!! 😍😍

user: lando really said, “if she’s anybody’s girl she’s MINE”

user: ynlando nation rise!!!!!

user: i know she’s clearly happy with lando but her and tom are honestly just the cutest

user: @ everyone who still ships tom and yn

user: not “my” but “MY” 👀

user: he got tired of ppl shipping his girl with someone else

user: mate, you’re stronger than bc the way yn talks about tom is just INSANE! she’s in love with him .. open your eyes

carlossainz55: 🤩🤩

user: the emphasis on the “my” 🤭🤭

oscarpiastri: this is cute or whatever

↳ user: my fav boy

user: wait!! does that mean we will be seeing yn in the paddock again???

↳ user: i hope so!!! 😩😩

user: idk about you all but i feel like her smile/face glows more whenever she’s with tom …….

↳ user: definitely, i agree!

↳ user: that’s bc tom’s her ✨daylight✨

↳ user: shUT uP OMG OMG, YESSS

↳ user: i foUnd my people

user: i missed her, omg ❤️❤️😭😭😭

user: will she be at the next race???

user: i feel like if she’s in love with tom, she should dump him

↳ user: that’s harsh, damn 😭😭

yourusername

liked by landonorris, joshandresrivera and 678,739 others

yourusername: a small bts photo dump:) 💗

tagged: @hunterschafer @tomblyth @joshandresrivera @the.sofia.sanchez

view 6,016 comments

user: hunter’s soo gorggg 😍😍😍

user: “a small bts” but it’s just tom

↳ user: it’s her excuse to post tom 🤣

user: the 6th photo was so unnecessary napaksns

hunterschafer: 😘😘😘😘❤️

user: wovey 🥺

user: yn’s down bad for tom, huh???

user: the chemistry they have on and off the screen is just unbelievably insane, omgg

user: 6th SLIDE??? HELLO??!!? MA’AM??!!?

user: I SHIP I SHIP I SHIP I SHIP

user: lando 💔💔💔💔💔💔

user: her and tom are DEFINITELY more than just friends and ya’ll CANNOT convince me otherwise

↳ yourusername: we’re just friends

↳ user: yeah and i’m jlaw’s daughter, but good try babe

tomblyth: my favorite girl!! ❤️

↳ user: SIR???

↳ user: bitCh what???!? 😳

↳ user: your what????

user: not him calling her his girl, BYE 😭😭😭😭

user: THIS LANDO MF BLIND ASF OMG 😭 iTs cLEAR THAT THERE’S MORE TO THIS WHOLE “friendship” BS

user: tHe 6th slide napaldndnfnc

user: not her posting the lake scene

user: wAit- are they about to kiss in the 6th slide??? bc i don’t remember no kiss in that scene

user: everyone is freaking over the 6th slide but the last one??? HELLO????? the hand on the chin?? 😩😩😩😩

↳ user: i thoUght i was the only one laswowhrbd

user: wovey, my love ❤️❤️❤️

joshandresrivera: love you, loser ❤️

user: their chemistry bro 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

user: its the way he’s looking at her in the last pic

user: tom and yn took their “relationship” to the next level

user: patiently waiting for lando’s comment

↳ user: i don’t think he knows what to comment 😭

user: she looks so much happier with tom, i swear

user: yn, be honest, are you in love with tom??!?

user: nah i feel bad for lando, bro 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: bro is clueless

user: lando losing on and off the track

↳ user: 💀💀💀💀💀

user: i genuinely want to know what type of relationship her and tom have cause???? it’s def more than friendly

user: @landonorris

user: i feel like she’s cheating on lando 😬

↳ user: 100%

user: they weren’t acting in the movie 😭 they were just being themselves, i swear

user: lando is one of the strongest soldiers i know!!!

user: i feel so bad for lando 😕😕😕😕

↳ user: he deserves better (me)

user: if you don’t want lando, i’ll happily take him

user: genuine question are they dating?? tom and yn, that is??

↳ user: no, but they might as well be dating atp

user: ya’ll gotta understand that a male and female can be close friends without having to be involved in a romantic way

↳ user: PREACH!

↳ user: there’s a thing called cheating, yk????

↳ user: with the way these two act there’s definitely more going on than just a friendly relationship

imessage

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 674,836 others

yourusername: NUMBER ONE?!!?!!?????!!!!!??

view 4,946 comments

user: gagged the hater with this one!!

user: your singing had me captivated

thehungergames: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: CORIOLANUS >>

user: you were amazing

user: proud of you!!!

tomblyth: you did that!! 🤩

↳ yourusername: no, babe, WE did that!! 👏🏼

↳ user: “babe” 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: ma’am just say yall together atp

user: well deserved

user: singing was phenomenal, omggg

user: that’s what happens when snow lands on top!! 🤩

📌 pinned

user: number one in the world and in my heart ❤️

user: you and tom were absolutely phenomenal

↳ yourusername: 💗💗💗💗

landonorris: you deserve it!! ❤️

↳ yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️

user: lucy gray is stronger than me bc personally i would’ve sat down with coriolanus and talked it out

↳ user: no bc same!!!! 😩 like i can fix him

↳ user: i would’ve ran away with him, idc

↳ yourusername: babes, are we just forgetting that he’s the reason finnick’s dead???? or the fact that he’s crazy???

user: SNOW LANDS ON WHAT EVERYONE??!!?

user: proud of you, my love!!! ❤️❤️

user: not her holding a grudge against snow for killing finnick she’s so real for that LMAOOOO

↳ tomblyth: 😩😩😩

user: the real question is did snow ever love lucy gray??

↳ yourusername: i like to believe so, yes! but he definitely loved power more:(

↳ tomblyth: lies 😑 (i agree)

↳ user: please 😭😭 he’s so unintentionally funny

user: you guys all deserve it, each one of you was amazing!!

user: my snowbaird heart ❤️❤️

user: best movie this year, i don’t make the rules

songbirdsandsnakes: thanks to our favorite coriolanus snow and lucy gray!!!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩

user: the movie was amazing, well done!!

user: I NEED MORE OF SNOW AND LUCY GRAY 😩😩

↳ user: i think we all do!!!

user: well deserved, pretty girl!!!!

carlossainz55: proud of you, yn! ❤️❤️❤️

↳ yourusername: ❤️ thank you, carlos

↳ user: missing this duo 🥺

user: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: you and tom smashed it

↳ user: they took the “smashing” part too serious 🫢

↳ user: you did not 💀

user: my lucy gray 🤩

user: I NEED A PIC WITH THIS CAST AND THE OG’S

↳ user: yn met jennifer, i believe .. but same!!! 😩😩

user: your singing was phenomenal, babe!!!

user: why’d you leave snow at the end??? 😭😭😭😭

↳ yourusername: cause he’s crazy??????

↳ user: he just wanted to talk tho????!!? 😩 all you had to do was sit and talk with him and apologize to him????

↳ yourusername: so he can kill me after????

↳ user: he would do NO such thing

tomblyth

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 684,830 others

tomblyth: it’s crazy to think tbosas is currently number one at the moment! this was such an unforgettable experience and i’m grateful i got to experience it with @yourusername ❤️

tagged: @yourusername

view 5,101 comments

user: I CANT, OMG

user: THE FIRST POST 😭😭😭

user: lando being in the likes??? 👀

yourusername: wouldn’t have wanted it any other way

yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️

songbirdandsnakes: snowbaird lives with you both ❤️

user: you both deserve it!!!

user: you killed it, mate! ❤️

user: they were both phenomenal, i cannot

user: both were incredible leads

user: it’s hard to tell if they’re just affectionate with each other or there’s simply more

user: if they aren’t dating, i NEED them to date 😭😭

user: they’re in love and nobody can convince me otherwise

↳ user: it’s so obvious

user: amazing leads!!!! 🤩🤩🤩

user: not lando liking 😭😭

user: SNOW LANDS ON TOP

user: you were amazing as snow! 👏🏼

user: does lucy gray haunt your dreams, be honest

↳ tomblyth: always

user: phenomenal actor

user: lucy gray or lucy gray??

↳ tomblyth: mhm .. none, i think i prefer lucy gray

↳ user: AS YOU SHOULD!

user: MY CORIOLANUS SNOW!! ❤️❤️ you were AMAZING

user: ya’ll cannot tell me snow didn’t love lucy bc he did

↳ user: he did love her in his own twisted way but he loved power more:((

user: i watched the move like 4 times already

user: if evil why so hot??

user: you and yn were phenomenal as snow and lucy gray

↳ tomblyth: ❤️ appreciate it, mate

user: why’d you betray my boy sejanus like that? 😭😭

user: LANDO IN THE LIKES 👀

↳ user: hes crying in a corner after seeing the first pic

user: they messed with our feelings 😩😩

↳ user: noo frr cause tell me why i was rooting for them knowing damn well how it would all end up 💔

user: i NEED them together

user: they look so good together 😩

user: you can definitely tell they love each other and not just as “friends”

user: well deserved!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: in my world snowbaird ended up together and are living happily ever after

↳ user: same!!!

↳ user: snowbaird and yntom

user: i know she’s dating someone but they look so good together, it’s like they are meant to be

imessage

pt3??

taglist:

@geraltwintersoldier @love4josh @dudde-44 @coconut-dreamz @newlifeforus @loxbbg @dakotali @f1footballluvverr @mountmaason19 @poppyflower-22 @magical-spit @nazm145 @nikolaros22 @sincerlymatakorama @36babyg @bucket-of-fanfiction @gyunheat @dakotali @bucket-of-fanfiction @djoenthusiast @nyraahub @miglielia @aleidag1rly (if your user is purple, it’s bc i couldn’t find you)

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missnxthingg · 26 days

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 - 𝑂𝑁𝐸

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Lando Norris x Single Mom!Reader (Best friends to lovers) 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Lando and Y/N have always been the best of friends, always there for each other through thick and thin. After years of sharing the paddock and building their own silly little family, both of them just can't hold their feelings inside anymore, even though they're are both afraid it would ruin their friendship. So who'll take the first step? 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 4.1 K | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - None (so far) 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - All chapters come with a social media version. Click bellow and find more about this story!

smau version | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

“My hair is absolutely fine”, Lando complained. He had just woken up from his usual nap before the race and would’ve much rather have used the past five minutes sleeping then getting his hair fixed. Y/N ignored his whining and kept fixing his curls, making sure they fell perfectly into place. “Y/N, I'm literally putting on a helmet five minutes from now”.

“Shut up”, she furrowed her eyebrows and kept herself concentrated on his hair. “You’re gonna look perfect for the pictures before getting in the car with this hair”.

“Y/N L/N, full-time groomer, part-time comms girl”, he joked, making her open a small grin. It’s always nice to have small moments like those in the middle of all the mayhem that is the Formula 1 paddock, specially after so many years knowing each other. Lando and Y/N always found a way to make it even more fun by being there together.

“My job is to get the best image of you out there”, she dusted off his shoulders and winked at him. “Excited to be back?”

“Very”, he smiled at her. “Missed me over the winter?”

“Haven’t had the chance to miss you since you insist on us having a friendship outside work and keeps stopping by my house all the damn time”, she joked, pulling him to walk along with her. “Also, have you forgotten the headache you’ve given me on New Year’s Day?”

Lando went to Bali with his friends on the New Year’s and ended up partying a little too hard, which resulted in Y/N having to work all day as everyone else was enjoying their holiday. She had to stay at her hotel room all day in reunion with his PR team, trying to come up with solutions to his mess. When he found out, he even paid her dinner to apologize for the mess he made.

“I already said I was sorry”, Lando nudged her away with his elbow, making Y/N giggle. Then she toughened up and rolled his eyes at him. They soon were inside the McLaren garage, almost ready to start the first race of the year.

“You can apologize properly by doing great today”, she helped him close his suit, feeling his gaze burning on her face. Lando lowered his sight to pay attention to his friend, making her whole body tingle just with the looks.

“I'll try my best”, he shrugged. And Y/N knew that he was going to be good anyway, even if he didn’t really believe in himself. Lando had done great all weekend, so she knew he was also going to do great on track. She was known to have a sense of when her best friend was going to do good on the race, and today was one of those days. She just didn’t tell him.

It’s been like this since the very first moment they met. Lando and Y/N got to know each other when he was still in Formula 2, but already looking into enrolling in Formula 1 with McLaren. She had just got an internship at the team, working in communications, focused on their social media, and was starting to get into the motorsports world as she worked her way through a degree in college. Lando was also building his career, starting as a test driver and growing into a rookie. With both of them being new into this world, being friends made this entire experience less lonely.

“All good?”, she asked, opening a comforting smile at him to make sure Lando was cheerful enough to kick off the season.

“Does my hair look good for the balaclava?”, he joked as he took his last pieces of fireproofs to wear. Y/N rolled her eyes and nudged him away. “Yes, curly king”, she giggled, earning a quick hug from the boy, who was now ready to get into the car. He sneaked a tiny kiss on her cheek and buried his nose on her neck. ��Good luck, champ”.

“Thank you”, he winked at her, walking towards his engineers to have a quick chat before the race.

Y/N’s job was basically on hold for the rest of the race. She already knew the procedures of the media pen after the race, so all she had to do was wait and cheer for her team. It felt good to be back on track, and beginnings of seasons always give her a little bit more of power to do her job. And Bahrain was a solid start for McLaren, with both Lando and Oscar finishing above P6, getting good points for the team.

“I knew you were going to do good”, Y/N commented when she saw Lando walking towards her; his suit already hanging low on his hips and with a tired smile on his face after he finished the countless post race interviews. He wrapped his arms softly around his friend as he stole her bottle of water. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you”, he held her a little tighter and immediately felt relaxed next to her. For years, Y/N has been the calm after the storm for Lando. “Tired?”

“Not really. Just a little bit”, she shrugged, as they walked back together to the McLaren motorhome, ready to get her things and walk away from the paddock.

“Want to grab something to eat before heading back to the hotel? I’m starving, and I really could use some time without talking to anyone but you”, he giggled, knowing his best friend knew how to respect his silence when he needed. Also, they had been working non-stop together for the past month, without a single time to just enjoy their time together. It would be nice to do absolute nothing next to each other.

“Oh, I’m heading back to London tonight. I have to be at the airport in… two hours”, she said, looking at her watch with a sad smile. “Little one needs me. She has a ballet presentation tomorrow, and I have to be there for her”.

“Of course”, Lando said, feeling the endearment on his chest with her words. “Ollie has the best mom in the world. She’s the luckiest little girl”.

Y/N got pregnant shortly after she started her second year in Formula 1, after being very careless with a college boyfriend, who took off the second he found out they were having a baby, only helping financially every month, but not being there to help her with anything. On the first years, when she was mostly required to be in England, it worked. But now that she grew on her job and was asked to travel the entire world, it was getting harder and harder to stay away from her daughter. So she always comes for the weekend and goes back home as soon as she can.

“You’re heading back to England tomorrow for the post-race debrief, right? You should come have dinner with us after the ballet presentation”, Y/N suggested.

“Am I banned from going to the ballet as well?”, Lando arched his brows, making Y/N's cheeks heat up.

“I mean, I thought it would be quite boring for you”, she shrugged, making Norris laugh.

“Are you joking? Olivia can never be boring. I always want to see her, especially on nice days like these”, he said. “I'll be there. And then I'll take you to her favourite restaurant”.

“She’s four, Lando. Her favourite restaurant is McDonald's”, Y/N rolled her eyes, but he shrugged.

“McDonald's it is!”, he giggled. “I'll see you tomorrow. Have a safe trip back home”.

“You too, Lan”, he pulled her for another quick hug and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

Lando has been there for Olivia since before she was born. After her boyfriend took off, Y/N was left pregnant, completely scared for her future. She didn’t know how to keep doing her job and her studies. Norris was the one who stuck by her side, did everything in his power to not get her fired, or not to quit her job, and pushed her to keep going with her education. He was there to take her to doctor's appointments whenever he could, and he was there to hold her hand when the time came. Lando was one of the first people who ever had the opportunity to hold Ollie in the arms. And for everything he did for both girls, he immediately became the little baby’s godfather. There was no one else in this world Y/N trusted more.

She has been more than special in his life as well. Y/N understood him better than anyone, and was his home away from home. She made him laugh, and she made sure that he felt comfortable, loved and happy all the time. And if things weren’t alright, having her support always made things better. So before she left, Lando took one last glance at his best friend and thought: “How lucky I am to have her in my life”. But he kept that thought to himself, trying hard not to think too much into it. Deep down, he knew there was something more on the way his heart raced every time he looked at her.

For the next day, Lando felt anxious to finally get home and be with his tiny second family. He hasn’t seen his goddaughter since the pre-season started and was looking forward to being in her presence again. It was his favourite way to relax after a full weekend, being with the people he loved the most in the world. So it felt good once the meeting at McLaren back in Woking was over, which meant that now he could go to the ballet presentation and be with his girls.

He arrived at least twenty minutes before the presentation started and found Y/N among the crowd, sitting right in the front, using her Instagram as a pastime to wait until Olivia was on stage. She updated her social media with a few shots from the weekend in Bahrain before she was pulled out of her thoughts by Lando, who found his spot next to his best friend.

“Hello”, he greeted with a beautiful smile on his face. Norris was wearing an all-black outfit, trying not to catch much attention to his presence, not wanting to deal with the public eye in such an intimate moment between family. “Am I late?”

“No, don’t worry”, she smiled softly at him. “Ollie will on go on stage in a few moments, so you’re fine”.

“Good. I’m glad to be here”, he elbowed his friend and got comfortable next to her. “How was your flight back home?”

“It was fine, a bit tiring. I got home just in time to have some breakfast and get Olivia ready to go to school. My mom drove her and I knocked out on the couch until lunch. Then I got her from school, we had lunch at a restaurant, and then I took her home to get our ballerina ready”.

“Cute”, his cheeks tinted in a pretty pink shade. “At least one of us had some proper sleep. I woke up at four, then flew here and went straight into MTC. I got changed there, had a nap, and now I’m here”.

“You should’ve gone home to rest, Lando…”, she started, but he cut her through her sentence.

“I told you I wanted to be here. I always want to be here for Ollie’s big days, you know that”, he assured, and Y/N knew he was telling the truth. After all, he has always been there for her daughter, coming to see her whenever he could, never forgetting to get her gifts on Christmas and birthdays, always calling to make sure his goddaughter knew how much she was loved by him. Lando cared about Olivia as if she was his own daughter.

“I know”, she smiled, searching for his hand in the darkness of the room to give it a squeeze. “You’ve always been here for her big days. But I worry about your health”.

“Oh, shut up”, he laughed. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me”.

Then Y/N noticed that Lando was holding flowers in his hands, and her heart immediately felt full at the sight. He definitely is a treasure in her daughter’s life.

“You brought her a bouquet?”, she commented, making her friend blush with the comment. “Oh my God, that’s so cute!”

“Of course I did! She deserves it”, he smiled, pulling the bouquet to show it to Y/N. “Do you think she’ll like the daisies? I thought roses were too boring and Ollie is never boring”.

“Obviously. She loves everything you give her”, she giggled, finishing just before the music started and the presentation began.

Y/N obviously cried to see her daughter dancing beautifully on stage, knowing she was on the right path to provide the best life for her little girl. But her heart actually melted to see Lando’s smile as he sat next to her, admiring Olivia’s movements with a hug smile on his face.

“She’s really good”, he commented, not tearing his eyes away from the girl. “Look at her, wow!”

Y/N threw her arms around him and snuggled close to his body, hugging him from the side. She just couldn’t contain her happiness by him being there for her family. Lando only tore his eyes away from Ollie to look at his best friend for a second. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and rested a hand on her knee. That was his way to tell her that she was doing a good job.

After the presentation was over, the duo went backstage to pick Olivia to go out for dinner. The little girl was still dressed in her ballerina attire, now with a huge smile on her face as she ran excitedly towards them. But there was only one person she had her eyes for.

“Uncle Lando!”, she shouted, rushing her pace to him, who squatted to hug her. Norris waited for the impact and relaxed once he felt her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. “You came!”

“Of course I came! I wouldn’t miss the best ballerina in town doing her beautiful performance on stage”, he leaned back to look her in the face, the smile never faltering from his face. “You look so beautiful, wow. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you”, Ollie giggled, her tiny hands landing on his cheeks, making his smile even wider. Then he pulled the bouquet in his hands and showed it to the girl, who sparkled her eyes at the sight of the flowers.

“These are for you”, he said, and Ollie quickly wrapped her hands around the bouquet, pulling them closer to her face to smell it. She started jumping in excitement before pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Oh, that’s nice”.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, Olivia said. “I love you, uncle Lando”.

“I love you too, baby”, he declared before picking her up from the floor, walking towards Y/N, whose eyes were welled up with tears from watching the interaction between them. He whipped it off with one of his thumbs before pulling his best friend for a group hug.

“Why are you crying, mummy?”, Olivia asked, her cheeks pressed between Lando and Y/N’s body.

“Oh, it’s because you look so beautiful. I’m so proud!”, she giggled. “These are happy tears, I promise”.

“I love you too, mummy. Just as much as I love uncle Lando”, the girl declared, making Lando’s heart warm up with the comment.

“I love you too, Ollie”, Y/N pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Are you hungry, baby? Uncle Lando is taking us for dinner”.

“And you get to choose where”, he smirked, making Olivia even more excited with the proposition.

“McDonald’s!”, she shouted, making Lando laugh. Then he looked at Y/N, who had that ‘I told you so’ look on her face. “I want a burger, nuggies, fries and ice cream. Oh, and the little toy”.

“Your wish is my command”.

Lando always bent over backwards to see Olivia smile. He bought everything she wished to eat, and she was stuffed with goodies that made her belly warm. Then she filled him in with everything that was going on in her life, making Y/N sit back, eat her burger, and admire the interaction between them. He had been helping her with food as he listened carefully to every single world she was saying. It was good to have someone else taking care of her, lifting the weight off her shoulders for a second. By the time they were done, Norris held both of his girls' hands and walked to his car, ready to go home with them.

Olivia fell asleep on the way home as they had a very quiet ride, only listening to some of Lando’s chill music. Then he helped carry her inside when they arrived, as Y/N opened the door and got her daughter’s bed ready for the night. She changed the little girl’s clothes and tucked her in bed, not forgetting her signature forehead kiss before leaving. Norris watched it from the door with a tender smile on his face. He pulled his friend by the elbow, engulfing her in a comforting, long hug.

In the quietness of her house, everything felt perfectly into place. Lando rarely gets those moments alone with his best friend when they are rushing around the paddock. So whenever he sees the opportunity, he takes it. And they stood there, holding each other for a few minutes until he pulled Y/N out of the room. She takes care of both him and Olivia all the time. It’s only fair that he took care of her sometimes.

Norris sat her down on the couch and quickly picked a few items from her room, such as a soft blanket, along with some skincare to take off her makeup and make her relax. Then he sat next to her and patted his lap, just so she could lie down and rest. Lando softly ran wipes across her face, removing her make up before putting a relaxing face mask on her skin. Then he massaged her scalp as she sighed in comfort, enjoying every second of that treatment. He finished the skincare with moisturizer and a little kiss on her forehead, making her smile.

“I don’t deserve you”, she commented as Lando blushed. “Seriously, Ollie and I are so lucky to have you in our lives”.

“I’m just taking care of the people that I love”, he shrugged. “Do you want some tea?”

“I want some wine”, she giggled, making him tag along. “I think there’s a bottle in the fridge and the glasses are still in the same place”.

Lando shot up from his seat, but quickly came back with the bottle, an opener and two glasses. He wasn’t someone to drink much, but he would never refuse this bonding time with his best friend. Still, he poured just a little in his glass before toasting with Y/N.

“God, I’m so tired”, she vented. “I can't sleep when I'm away from Ollie”.

“I know”, he squeezed her knee and Y/N leaned her head into his shoulder. “It sucks having to be away all the time. But I promise you’re doing great in this parenting thing”.

“If you think so”, she shrugged. Most times, Y/N second-guesses herself, wondering if she was being a good mother by leaving her child every other week with their grandmother, only to travel to another country. But she knew that was the only way to provide Ollie with the best life she could have; after all, the salary is very good.

“I know it”, Lando assures. “Olivia is the sweetest kid of all time. She’s kind, funny, very talented and polite. And she absolutely loves you, because you are the best mother in the world”.

“Thanks, Lan”, she smiled at him. “I��m glad she has someone like you in her life. I’m glad to have someone like you in mine”.

“I’ll always be here for you and Ollie, you know that. I’ll take care of you both until the end of my days”, he promised, pulling his best friend for a quick kiss on the crown of her head. “And in the end, everything is worth it, right?”

“Olivia is always worth it”, she assured him, opening the biggest smile. “She’s everything to me. And it’s crazy how much someone can mean to you. But I guess motherhood is always like this”.

“I can’t wait to be a dad. I know I’m going to love it just as much as being a godfather”, he said. “You’re going to enjoy being a godmother someday too”.

“I will be the proudest auntie in the world! Your kid will love me because I’ll pamper them with all the love I can give”.

Deep down, Lando knew he didn’t want Y/N to be the godmother of his children. He has known for a while that he wanted her to be their mother; to be the one he raised a family with through the years. He was very happy whenever he was with her and Olivia, loving more than anything that little family he built with his best friend, so he wanted that to grow even more, maybe with some children of their own.

But confessing his feeling for Y/N tonight, or any night in the near future, wasn’t in Lando’s plans. He would rather just enjoy this little family without taking the risk of losing it for unrequited love. After all, if it didn’t work out, he loses both of the loves of his life.

“Are you staying the night?”, she broke the silence after a few minutes just listening to the sound of television, as they finished their wine together.

“Of course. Did you think I was going to pass the opportunity of cuddling with you?”, he frowned. “I was pissed when McLaren didn’t book us at the same hotel, so I could have an excuse to sneak into your room”.

“Well, you’re the famous driver, McLaren golden boy. I’m just the comms girl. Not all of us can stay at swanky hotels”.

“You deserve the swankiest of them”, Lando said, making Y/N flustered with his comment.. “Come on, you barely can keep your eyes opened. Let’s go to bed”.

He swiped her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom as she tried to laugh quietly to not wake Olivia up. Lando threw her in the mattress as he laughed along, but immediately went into ‘take care mode’ when they were inside those four walls. He chose a comfortable pyjama for Y/N and picked some of his clothes, which he conventionally left in her house for nights like these, then went into her bathroom so they could have some privacy to change.

After they were both dress, Lando hopped into bed too and quickly found his favourite spot: his head resting on her chest, with his arms engulfing her in the most comfortable hug. He felt the tiredness of the weekend crash his body, but he felt relaxed to be in his favourite girl’s arms.

“Does Ollie have school tomorrow?”, he asked, feeling Y/N nod, even with her eyes closed.

“She does, I have to be up very early tomorrow”, she groaned, already feeling too lazy to wake up early tomorrow.

“I can take her to school, don’t worry”, he said, wanting to take this weight off Y/N’s back. After all, he could very much take care of Olivia for her, as he had done countless times before. “And then after classes, we can all do something fun, like going to a park or something. Maybe I can take her to a toyshop and she can buy anything that she wants”.

“Don’t spoil my child too much. I don’t want her to grow as a spoiled kid. You’ll ruin her!”

“I will”, he giggled. “But Olivia deserves everything in the world and more”.

They fell quiet for a moment, and Lando was sure that Y/N had already fallen asleep. That until her fingers rolled in his curls, making him hum in satisfaction. He wanted that feeling for the rest of his life. He wanted to sleep next to her every night until the end of days.

And then came the three words he always adored hearing from her.

“I love you, Lan”, she mumbled. “Thank you for being the best friend one could ever wish for”.

Even after being friend zoned, Lando didn’t care about anything else, feeling his chest burning in adoration for his favourite girl. “I love you too, baby”, he whispered back, his words carrying more than he actually wanted to mean.

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 . 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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