#let's start a honey club

[gutsby]

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.

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, 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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[nottswitch]

— 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠?)

summary: your last night in italy, your last chance to remember this vacation forever

pairing: theo x fem!reader

warning: 18+ smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), spanking, choking, dirty talk, degradation/praise, mentions of alcohol, tipsy sex, smoking, broken Italian, modern!au, muggle!au

wc: 3.9k

a/n: it’s been a long time coming!! finally officially writing for theo. inspired by honey (are u coming?) by måneskin <3

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; theo m-list ; how to request

The air of the summer night was almost chilly, but only almost – the temperatures in the south of Italy are usually high at this time of year. However, it didn’t stop you from shivering as a light breeze of wind brushed against your skin, flushed from all the alcohol you had consumed in the last couple of hours. It wasn’t even that much in quantity – it was more so the mixture between the different kinds of it creating a heady haze in your direct and peripheral vision. And now, you were standing behind the club, having come out for a breather and a brief clearance of your mind. Your friends were still inside, lost somewhere between the dancing bodies, and you didn’t care enough to let them know you were heading out.

“Scusa, signorina, ha un accendino?”

You were shaken out of the blankness of your thoughts by a deep voice coming from somewhere behind you. You didn’t know what it said, since you weren’t the assigned interpreter of the group and knew jack shit about Italian. Slowly and cautiously, you turned your head to look at the source of that profoundly attractive voice. The man was standing a bit further away, still hidden by the shadows, so you couldn’t see his face clearly.

“Ciao?”

In your dumbfounded state, it was the only thing your brain could conjure up. The sole Italian word you knew for sure and could safely produce, besides the pizza names, of course. But if you started spurring them out – that would be deathly embarrassing.

The silhouette let out a low chuckle. He took a step further, and the light of a street lamp finally let you see the face of the mysterious voice. Your mouth was slightly agape as you studied his features: cheekbones that looked sharper than they probably were, emphasized by the shadows of the night; a cap of dark curly hair, messed up by hours of dancing in the club and the breeze that was currently ruffling it; his lips, rather… full and strangely inviting.

“Shit, I thought this line would work.”

Once again, his voice pulled you right out of your reverie. You realized that he was speaking English now, and his accent made the language sound tenfold more charming than it needed to be.

“What?” you asked, immediately feeling sheepish as you said it. It wasn’t hard to notice that you’d been standing there shamelessly ogling him while he tried to converse.

The previous chuckle of his turned into a laugh. The stranger stepped even closer, so close that you could distinguish a couple moles on his face, and his eyes… they were something else entirely. You tried your best to blink away the incoming clouding of the mind – it was simply dangerous to stare into them too much.

“I asked if you had a lighter,” he explained, taking a pack of cigarettes and his own lighter out of his pocket. “This line usually works.”

He lit up the cigarette, taking quick inhales until the tip started burning orange. Then, he took a deep drag, hollowing out his cheeks and making his cheekbones appear even more prominent. You watched in awe as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, deliberately blowing it out in the opposite direction.

“But you-” you tried to say, your voice embarrasingly cracking and making you clear your throat. “You have a lighter,” you finally uttered, rubbing your throat with your fingers and swallowing a lump slowly starting to form there.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just a conversation starter,” he explained with another low chuckle. You felt like you were five and he was you kindergarten teacher, explaining the reason the sky was blue. “And it did start the conversation, no?”

You smiled nervously, fumbling with your necklace. The stranger noticed your tensed up state and his expression softened from playful to friendly and approachable.

“Theo,” he said, holding out his hand. “Well, Theodore, actually, but only my mother calls me that when she’s angry,” he joked, his lips spreading in a wide smile.

You introduced yourself as well, feeling much more comfortable with his gaze warmly resting on your eyes. His hand was bigger than yours, softer than you expected and felt like a pillow. Once your palms connected, he wrapped his fingers around yours and instead of a handshake, lifted your hand to his lips to plant a kiss on its back.

Your cheeks flushed instantly at the feeling of his lips on your skin. They were so soft that a need to feel them on your mouth made itself known in the depths of your stomach. You cursed yourself for being so sensitive, but didn’t pull your hand away when his lips lingered there for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“So, bella,” he started, letting go of your hand, “what are you doing alone outside of a club at…” He glanced at his wristwatch. “…at five in the morning?”

“My friends are still inside,” you explained the ‘alone’ part, “and I just came out for a breather. Our flight is in six hours and we’re probably not going to sleep,” you added with a scoff. At that point, a sleepless night didn’t sound as enticing as it did just a day before.

“A flight?”

Theo tilted his head, taking another drag of the cigarette. You swore you were hallucinating, but you could hear a slight hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah, we’re flying back home,” you replied with a sigh, also feeling disappointed for some reason. It was rather unfair, you thought, that as soon as you met a perfect picture of a man, you had to leave him behind, in a country so foreign to you.

“Damn…”

Theo let out a humorless chuckle, exhaling a plume of smoke and running his hand through his hair, letting the curls gracefully fall on his forehead afterwards. He noticed the curious glance you gave him and shook his head.

“It’s nothing, I just-”

He interrupted himself by taking a long drag of the cigarette and shoving his hand in his pocket, as if to stop it from clenching into a fist.

“I just thought I had a chance,” he finished with a white cloud billowing out of his mouth. “You know, to have your number, to take you out and all that…”

You sighed, lowering your gaze to the ground. You actually really wanted to go on a date with this handsome stranger, and life felt even more unfair than just seconds ago, now that you knew that your sudden desire was reciprocated.

“Life’s a bitch, I guess,” you breathed out, biting the inside of your cheek to stop your voice from shaking. You never knew that a simple one-minute encounter outside of a club could affect you that profoundly, yet there you were, wishing you could stay in Italy for at least a day longer.

Theo watched you intently as he kept on smoking, and silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes.

"Can we…?" his voice sounded in the silence of the night.

"Yeah," you breathed out before he could even finish the sentence. You knew exactly what he was implying, and you would probably die before you missed the chance to skip all the unnecessary steps and just outright go for it.

You could see Theo grinning and tilting his head back a little as another cloud of thick white smoke wafted above him. He threw the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the tip of his shoe, all while his shining eyes were fixed on you, and you realized that your own lips perfectly mirrored his wide smile. Theo took a couple of steps towards you, the proximity between your bodies’ letting his warmth envelop your front. His hand hovered next to your waist while his eyes searched yours, silently asking for permission. Your nod was more than enough; you barely had time to breathe in before Theo’s lips were on yours, his hand firmly gripping your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. On instinct, your own hands ended up on his shoulders, stabilizing yourself, as your knees seemed to have a mind of their own and suddenly wanted to buckle.

Naturally, Theo tasted like cigarettes and a hint of alcohol; his scent invaded your senses with male cologne and something citrusy on top of that. His hands held you up, one of them leaving wrinkles on the thin fabric of your tank top, and the other one – caressing you flushed cheek with his thumb. You let out a soft, shaky moan when you felt his tongue gliding against yours and got a response in the form of another moan, but lower – from him. It sounded heavenly, and you found yourself wanting to pull more of this out of him.

Both of you were breathless when you mouths finally separated, a thin strip of saliva stretching out between your shiny, sloppy lips. A second later, it was cold and dripping down your chin, and Theo laughed, pressing his thumb to your skin to wipe off the mess.

"There’s a place, not far from here," he whispered, leaning in so that his lips would lightly brush against your ear.

"Whatever you say," you answered, closing your eyes and trying to gather the last bits of self-control not to jump on him right then and there. Maybe it was the previously consumed alcohol, maybe it was just him.

The corner of Theo’s mouth turned up at the sound of your voice, still a bit breathless and, undoubtedly, needy. He placed a teasing, promising kiss under your ear, eliciting a quiet but sharp breath from you, and pulled away, sliding his hand down your body, from your waist to your hand. Your fingers intertwined, and before you knew it, you were getting all but dragged along the cobbled street.

"Theo," you whined, tugging at his arm to at least slow him down a notch. "My heels!" you said, raising your voice a bit when the guy didn’t stop at all, as if he hadn’t heard you.

Theo turned his head, following your downturned finger and noticing your high-heeled sandals.

"Ah, piccola mia," he cooed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. You didn’t know what he said, but in your mind, his amused smile couldn’t have meant anything bad. In a split of a second, you were picked up, bridal style, your body pressed to Theo’s chest, your legs helplessly dangling in the air. You let out a short, surprised squeal, which made Theo bite the inside of his cheek in order to suppress a loud, hearty laugh.

"That’s much better, hm?" he murmured, observing your widened eyes with a small but cheeky smile on his face and a quirked eyebrow.

You didn’t really have any time to answer – the question was rhetorical, anyway – as he started to walk down the street, his pace a bit faster now that you weren’t slowing him down. You decided not to question and instead, wrapped your arms around his neck. Although, as you had come to notice, his arms provided just enough of a safety net.

The lobby of the hotel had high ceilings, leather couches and air conditioning, which was a nice contrast against you flushed cheeks. Theo didn’t bother lowering you to the ground when you entered, so now you were hiding your embarrassed face in the crook of his neck while the receptionist was checking you in. His cologne was filling your lungs more and more with each passing second, so at some point you couldn’t hold back anymore and started placing soft kisses on Theo’s neck and jaw. You heard the incessant tapping of his fingers against the countertop increasing in frequency and grinned into his skin, realizing that your efforts weren’t in vain at all. His relieved exhale rang out along with the clink of the keys to your room for the night.

As soon as you stepped into the elevator, Theo pressed you against the wall, swiftly grabbing the backs of your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips stole a sloppy kiss from yours before latching onto your neck and leaving a trail of saliva down to your collarbone. One of your hands ended up on his shoulder while the other one was eagerly pulling his head into your neck, craving for more of the pleasure his lips were giving you.

The high-pitched sound of the elevator arriving at your floor cut through your lust-filled haze, but Theo was far from willing to let you go even for a minute. He carried you into the corridor and looked around to spot the right number on the door. Thankfully, it wasn’t far. Theo’s pace was hurried, and his lips were stuck to your shoulder all the way, until you heard the key turning and the door opening, at last.

A sharp breath was knocked out of your lungs when Theo pressed you against the other side of door, hungrily swallowing the air coming out of you. His hands immediately went to your ass, firmly gripping the flesh over your skirt. You moaned into his mouth, already feeling the dampness between your legs starting to grow pretty rapidly. Theo smirked against your lips and sneaked a hand up your body, under your tank top. His palm pressed into your breast, his fingers closing around it and giving it a solid squeeze. His lips parted, and you whined in protest when instead of his tongue you suddenly felt just his hot, alcohol-induced breath. You desperately licked into his mouth while he panted, lost in the feeling of your tits and ass sitting so nicely in his hands.

"Cazzo, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse.

At the feeling of Theo’s strong hands kneading your ass and tits simultaneously you started whimpering, wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to move your hips against his, tightening your legs’ embrace around his waist.

"You’re a needy girl, huh?"

Theo pulled away ever so slightly, just enough to have a good look at his face. He chuckled, trapping his tongue between his teeth while his eyes flicked from yours down to your now swollen lips and back.

"Such a desperate, needy slut," he murmured, his hand leaving your breast and cupping your jaw, his fingertips pressing into your cheeks and making your lips form a pout. As a confirmation of his words, a whimper left your throat, and your pussy started pulsating against the front of his jeans. Your hips started grinding again, and you could barely hold in another round of pathetic sounds when you felt a hard bulge between your bodies.

"Fuck," Theo groaned, for a second feeling nothing but the delicious friction your rapid movements provided. He lowered you to the ground, pressing a quick, firm kiss against your lips before guiding you to the huge, king-sized bed. You didn’t protest; you didn’t want to, and your mind was too far gone at this point. As soon as your legs hit the edge of the bed, Theo didn’t let you fall onto it. Instead, he pressed his palms against your lower back and your stomach at the same time, bending you over in one swift movement – you barely had time to stretch out your arms to support yourself.

Theo took a step back, biting his lips as he took in the sight of you, bent over, a tight denim skirt hugging your curves, your ass high up in the air due to the high heels on your feet. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he came closer again, lifting up your skirt to pool around your waist. You breathing grew more erratic as you felt his hands on your ass, grabbing the cheeks and spreading them open. A sharp slap landing on your right asscheek was a surprise, eliciting half a squeal, half a moan from you; your arousal trickled out of your panties in one wet line, which made Theo almost ecstatic. He gave your ass another slap, relishing your moan as he kneeled behind you, your thighs receiving a smack each as a signal to spread further apart.

If he wasn’t gripping your hips at that moment, your legs would’ve given out right when his mouth was pressed against your soaked panties. A shaky whimper escaped your wide-open mouth, making Theo’s cock throb in the confines of his jeans. In other cases, he would’ve taken his time teasing you, getting his fix of your needy moans and the sweetness between your legs. However, right then he was still somewhat tipsy and painfully hard, which is why your panties were quickly moved aside and his tongue dived straight into your dripping folds. A groan made your skin pleasantly vibrate, and your moans never stopped since, only growing louder and more frequent.

Theo’s tongue lapped up the juices from your cunt, his hands firmly gripping the underside of your ass, his thumbs spreading your inner thighs by pressing into them hard enough to leave bruises. You couldn’t help it - you bent your arms and lowered yourself down to your elbows, because you felt like you’d start shaking at any given moment. And you did, as soon as Theo’s skillful lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and making each and every single nerve shoot lightning strikes of pleasure through your whole body. Your moans and whimpers grew into sobs as Theo continued greedily devouring your aching cunt. The moment he gave your ass another slap, you were done for. Without any type of warning, you came, your hands gripping the sheets so hard they could probably rip.

When Theo heard you getting lost in your orgasm, he closed his eyes and groaned, feeling his own need painfully pulsating between his legs. He stood up, towering over your bent over and already spent form. You couldn’t even turn your head to see what he was doing, but you definitely heard the sound of a zipper being undone. You didn’t have time to dwell on that, as two of Theo’s fingers ended up inside your cunt almost immediately. Your whole body jerked forward, the pain of overstimulation mixing with the pleasure of his fingers stretching out your walls. The next sound was that of a wrapper being opened, and for a quick but very empty moment Theo’s digits left your hole. You whimpered in protest, pushing your ass back in search of friction, and you found it: the tip of Theo’s cock, wrapped up in a condom, slid along your folds up to your clenching and unclenching entrance.

"Cazzo," Theo breathed out, momentarily mesmerized by the sight in front of him. "Such a good girl f’me…" he continued murmuring as he rubbed his tip in circles against your entrance, making you squirm. His hand stopped your erratic movements, grabbing your hip to keep you in place. Once he was sure you weren’t moving anymore, that same hand landed on your asscheek, causing your body to jerk forward once again. "Such a dirty slut."

With one thrust he pushed into you, his hips slamming against yours with bruising force. You let out a sharp, high-pitched scream, immediately flowing into a stuttering moan as you felt the tip of Theo’s cock hitting a sweet spot. He moaned along with you, his head thrown back as he savored the feeling of your warmth and heat squeezing his aching dick. Shameless groans left his mouth with each movement he started moving inside of you, his initially slow pace growing into deep, hard thrusts. You buried your face in the sheets, tugging at them with your hands, desperate for some kind of grounding in reality. Theo’s cock kept hitting different spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had, making your pussy drip even more and causing squelching sounds to waft through the room, along with skin loudly connecting with skin. Theo’s hands landed slaps on your ass from time to time, each squeal of yours following it causing him to groan louder.

Your second orgasm wasn’t far off from the first one – with an especially deep thrust, Theo’s cock hit something entirely uncharted inside of you, making your thighs shake and your cunt clench around him. He fucked you through your climax, barely holding on, until you finally stopped squirming so much. His hand was on the back of your neck in a second, lifting your upper body from the bed and pressing it against his firm chest.

"Feel so good, bella," he breathed into your ear, causing your completely overstimulated body to shiver. This reaction brought Theo closer to his own orgasm, and his thrusts became messier with each passing second. "Gonna come soon," he whispered, lightly squeezing your throat and circling the shell of your ear with the tip of his tongue. You whined pathetically, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your walls clenched around Theo once again.

That did it for him. With a low, raspy moan into your ear, he came, his grip on your hip and throat tightening. His twitching cock made your thighs purse together involuntarily, and your body finally went limp against his chest. Both of you stayed like that for another minute or so, stabilizing your staggered breathing. As soon as Theo felt you calming down, he carefully spun you around and lowered you onto the bed on your back.

"That was…" you breathed out, sinking into the softness of the mattress underneath you.

"Yeah," Theo followed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips when he heard you struggling for words.

You let out a breathless chuckle, propping yourself up on one arm and following Theo’s padding to the bathroom with your gaze. Once he disappeared inside for a moment, you threw yourself back onto the sheets, covering your eyes with your hands and shaking your head in disbelief.

"Me… A one-night stand in Italy…" you murmured under your breath, rubbing your temples with your fingers, as if trying to get a grasp of the situation.

"A one-night stand?"

Theo quirked an eyebrow, heading from the bathroom towards the bed, his jeans all done and zipped again. You gave him a questioning look of your own, wondering what that sly smile of his meant. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to you and, in response, turned the screen of his phone to you. You squinted, trying to see what he was trying to show you, and gave him a skeptical look when you did. He seemed puzzled for a moment before understanding washed over him – of course, how would you understand a text in Italian. He physically facepalmed and pulled the phone away, looking at the screen himself.

"It says that ‘due to inadequate weather conditions, all international flights have been postponed indefinitely," he read nonchalantly, the only thing betraying his inner workings being that same smile you saw earlier. He glanced at you, trying to gauge your reaction to the news and see if you were getting the hint.

You bit your bottom lip, furrowing your brows as you were processing the information. Then, your eyebrows went up, and you lifted your head, meeting his playful eyes with those of your own. As Theo crawled up your body, your fingers were already mindlessly tapping a message to your group chat with your friends.

reblogs and comments will be appreciated ♡

[6esiree]

How They React to Your Thong Straps Showing

Imagine you wear a Y2K inspired outfit, thong and all, and you decide to show it off to Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam?

Alastor:

Who doesn’t love some Y2K inspired clothing, baby tee, low-rise jeans, thong straps and all? Apparently Alastor. For someone who dressed so conservatively, you should have anticipated his reaction, his head snapping at an unnatural speed as you excitedly descended the stairs in an outfit that was absolutely scandalous to his standards. Before you could even think about approaching the man, Alastor manifested in front of you with a tight smile on his face.

“My dear, what are you,” Alastor coughed in between his question, his eyes frantically scouring your lower half, “…wearing?”

Your breath hitched as Alastor planted his chest against your back, his hands running tentatively down your sides, assessing the thin, lacey strap’s that clung over your hipbones between his thumb and his forefinger. He lifted the material, clicking his teeth in what you believed to be disapproval when he traced it to your backside.

“It’s just a new style—” You started, but then Alastor let go of the straps, interrupting yourself with a squeak as it snapped at your skin.

“How dare you showcase my favorite pair of lingerie in such a crude, outward display?” Alastor whispered to you, his breath tickling your ear. “What did I do to deserve such a punishment, hm?”

Alastor had interpreted your excitement to follow along a harmless trend as a strange form of punishment, and there was nothing you could say or do to convince him otherwise. You sighed in defeat, reaching behind you to unfasten his coat, too lazy to go upstairs and change. To say that Alastor was pleased was an understatement, unable to handle the thought of anybody else seeing you in such an outfit.

Lucifer:

When Lucifer’s immersed in something, he tends to lock himself away in his office and ignore you. So, in an effort to get his attention, you decided to go out and buy some Y2K inspired clothing, which consisted of a tank top, a push-up bra, low-rise shorts, and of course, a cute thong. As soon as you got home, you put them on, barging into the man’s office and scaring him as the door slammed behind you.

“Damnit, I just—honey, I’m so sorry, but unless you have something important to say,” Lucifer started as he turned around, a deformed rubber duck in his hand, “You’re going to have to—oh my fuck.”

The rubber duck in Lucifer’s hand ceased to exist the moment his eyes landed on your form. Feeling rather triumphant, you did a little spin, allowing him to see your outfit from every angle. The man was practically frozen in his chair, but his stare never abandoned the swell of your breasts, or the way the thong straps tightly clung over your hipbones, squeezing your soft, supple skin.

“Are you…going somewhere?” Lucifer asked you when he finally snapped out of the trance you had put him in.

“No, I’m not,” You said, a sigh of relief escaping his throat. “But maybe I should, huh? You’re so busy and I’d love to try out my new—“

“Wait, what? No!” Lucifer shot up from his chair, panicking. “I mean, how about we go out together? Don’t want you going out all alone dressed like…this.”

You arched a brow at Lucifer, his arms wrapping around you as he planted his chin on your chest, looking up at you with a nervous expression. “Hm, yeah, I’d like that,” You said, chuckling as his grip on you loosened, hands falling down to unashamedly caress your hips. Lucifer’s thumbs moved underneath your thong straps, goosebumps littering your skin at the act. Yeah, you’d definitely be doing that more often.

Husk:

You never really got into the Y2K clothing trend, but tonight you were going to go out to a club. Besides the thong, Angel decided to lend you something nice to wear, nervousness blooming in your chest as you wondered how Husk would react to you in a tube top and torn, low-rise jeans, the elastic straps of your thong tightly clinging to your hipbones. It was just so…revealing, and you quickly figured out that the old man felt the same way when you stopped by the parlor to show him.

“Hey, doll, I don’t mean to state the obvious but…” Husk stuttered from his seat on the couch, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Your, uh, underwear is kinda showin’.”

“Oh! Yeah, I know. It’s the style,” You said, turning around and showing him your backside. “Do you like it?”

Apparently, the straps on the side were fine, but the whale tail? Nope. Husk immediately stood up from the couch, a gasp escaping your throat as he wrapped his wings around your body, all while his fingers hooked onto the belt loops of your jeans. “Husk, they can’t go up any higher!” You squeaked, your crotch screaming for help as he tried to pull them up, the denim unforgiving.

“Well, ya can’t go out like this,” Husk practically whined, his hands moving up to your sides. “Christ, I won’t be able to focus on anythin’ else but this skimpy lil’ thing ya got on.”

Husk proceeded to grab your thong straps, tucking them into the safe confines of your jeans. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment when you turned around to glare at him. “Come on, babydoll, I’m beggin’ ya,” He said, tucking his cold nose into the crook of your neck, looking up at you with those big yellow eyes of his. You had never seen Husk act like this, so you muttered, ‘Fine,’ chuckling when he purred in response.

Vox:

While Vox worked away in his office for most of the day, you found creative ways to distract yourself. This time around, you sought out Velvette, asking her to dress you like one of her models in the latest trend: the Y2K style. She rolled her eyes before snapping her fingers, only stopping when she said, ‘Ah, there’s the one!’ You were so excited with the outcome that you decided to bother Vox for once—that and the fact that Velvette had shooed you away.

“Sweetheart, I have to attend a meeting in exactly 10 minutes,” Vox said as he let you in, the smoothness of his voice allowing him to mask his annoyance. “What is it that you need that couldn’t wait until later?”

The man casually set down his coffee mug on his desk, unprepared for the sight of you in an off the shoulder top, low-rise shorts, and—wait, what was the thin material clinging onto your sides? You patiently stood before Vox as he leaned forward in his chair, his eyes widening when he figured out that it was your thong straps. A wicked smile slowly took over his face, glad that you had interrupted him in such a pleasant way.

“Why won’t you let me get a closer look, hm?” Vox hummed, leaning back into his chair and patting his thigh, inviting you to sit on his lap.

“Sorry for coming into your office during work hours,” You said as you lowered yourself on his lap, giggling as his hands immediately went to your sides.

“No, no—I’m glad you did,” Vox said, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder. “You look absolutely ravishing, sweetheart.”

You sighed as he toyed with the straps on your hips, his fingers moving underneath the thin material, admiring the lacey fabric. Vox didn’t do anything past that, however, the meeting he had to attend less than 5 minutes away now. “Fuck, I have to get going,” He told you, but he promised to see you as soon as it was over with, leaving the rest of his workload to his assistants. A small part of you felt bad for them, but you couldn’t wait to see Vox earlier than usual.

Adam:

If anybody appreciated skimpy clothing, it was Adam. While the way you dressed around him was more casual and therefore less revealing, you decided to surprise him during one of your little meetings, sitting patiently on the edge of your bed wearing a halter top and low-rise skirt, the straps of your thong obscured by your hands. When Adam welcomed himself through your window, that was when you stood up, moving your arms to your sides.

“Hey, babe, how’s it—holy shit, what are you wearing?” Adam asked, reaching up to remove his mask to see you better. “Fuck me, is that…? No—yes?”

You bit your lip as Adam seized your hips, maneuvering you with little to no effort, his eyes frantically taking in the sight of you. You looked up at him through your lashes, observing how his throat bobbed in anticipation, especially as he rolled the thin straps between his thumb and his forefinger. To say that you were delighted by Adam’s reaction was an understatement.

“Do you like it?” You asked him, gasping when you were suddenly tossed onto the mattress. “It’s—oof—Y2K inspired, new trend of clothing down here in Hell.”

“Like it? I fucking love it, baby,” Adam said, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his hands fixing to remove your skirt. “Everything else can come off—except for the thong, I gotta fuck you in it.”

Adam’s wings excitedly flapped behind him as you lifted your hips, allowing him to remove your skirt with ease. Hearing the way he groaned was music to your ears. “Mind if I spend the night?” He suddenly asked, your breath hitching in surprise. “You can do that?” Adam shrugged, mumbling his classic, ‘I’m the first man alive,’ basically telling you that he’d find a way to explain his absence from Heaven. You rolled your eyes before nodding, already thinking about what to wear next month.

[cutieln4]

Fuck It I Love You | LN4

lando norris x reader, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff

summary: lando and y/n seem to absolutely hate each other until a dangerous situation reveals the truth

warnings: drink spiking, threats of sexual assault (nothing graphic, someone tries to take her home)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For some reason, Lando and her never got along. It stemmed from when they were karting together, all the way until they both got to Formula 1.

Now, at ages 21 and 23, they drove for rival teams and were always going wheel to wheel.

Monza wasn't any different.

Max and Charles were far in front, but she and Lando were fighting over the last podium place. They were switching back and forth until on the last lap, she maybe pushed him a bit too far on one of the last corners, securing 3rd place.

He approached her when she was making her way back from the post-race press conference, on her way to the media pen.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded.

She shrugged, smirking. "Not quite sure what you're talking about."

"Oh don't play dumb. That was dirty racing on the last lap and you know it."

"I don't see how it's any different from what you did to me in Austria, or last year at Silverstone."

She could see his jaw clench, and she knew she got him.

"Maybe keep your talking on the track," she told him before he could reply, walking away.

That night she was at the club celebrating with a couple of the other drivers. She was pretty close with Max, Charles, Oscar, and Daniel. It made things a bit awkward with them when she and Lando were really going at it because they were all good friends with Lando too. But whatever, it was mostly fine.

She had been dancing and throwing back drinks until she forgot about her and Lando's feud. She's also pretty sure the other drivers got some embarrassing videos of her. Her current drink was eventually empty and she stumbled away to the bar, not telling anyone.

She waved the bartender over to ask for another drink, tipping them $20. If it weren't for the alcohol in her system, she would've flinched when a man suddenly appeared at her side. It was crowded by the bar, and he was pressing right against her.

"Hey baby, let me buy you a drink."

"That's alright, I already have one," she politely declined, hoping he would just leave her alone.

"Oh come on, don't be like that honey."

She twisted her neck around to try to spot the other drivers and when she did, she grabbed her drink and left. The man luckily didn't follow.

Halfway through her drink, she started noticing that something was wrong. Her head was spinning way more than it should be, she was sweating like crazy, nauseous, and her body felt heavy.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she slurred out to Max before stumbling away.

She didn't make it far before she was grabbing onto the wall to keep herself up. She knew at the moment that something was terribly wrong. She most likely had her drink spiked, and now she was separated from her group and incapacitated.

A hand grabbed her arm and she looked up. Her vision was too blurry to make out any features, but she knew it wasn't one of the drivers.

"You okay, babe? Let me help you."

"N-No, m' good, leav' me 'lone."

She tried to escape his grip, but she could barely move, her strength was completely gone. The man wrapped his whole arm around her waist, supporting her as he walked her out of the club while she tried to protest.

The cold, fresh air felt good when it hit her, but then she remembered what situation she was in. The man was dragging her along more roughly now.

"Stop, 'lease, I don' wanna go with you," her pleading sounded more and more like pathetic whimpers falling on unheard ears.

He just kept walking down the street, gripping her so hard there'd probably be bruises.

"Don't, please, leave me 'lone," she whined, eyes welling up with tears as she tried to escape his grip again.

He suddenly shoved her face-first into a building, rough concrete scraping her arms and face, and she fell to the ground.

"Shut up and don't move!" he hissed.

He yanked her back up and dragged her along.

"No, no, please, stop," she cried, nearly sobbing. She was scared, she couldn't feel anything, and she was completely separated from anyone she knew while some strange man was leading her somewhere.

"Hey!" another voice suddenly yelled, about 5 meters behind them. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Whoever this person was, they sounded pissed.

"Nothing man, mind your business," the man next to her said.

"No, I won't mind my fucking business. Let go of her before I smash your face in."

The man scoffed, trying to continue walking.

"I warned you," the other man said before suddenly she fell to the ground and she heard a thud of skin-on-skin contact, before a groan.

She was on the ground, leaning her back against the wall while her head drooped to the side. She couldn't see much, but she could hear the punching continue.

"Stop, stop, man, I'm sorry!"

"Oh yeah? Did you listen to her when she asked you to stop?"

Eventually, it went quiet, and there were footsteps in her direction. The man who saved her crouched down in front of her and put his hands on her cheeks, supporting her head. It was then that her vision cleared up a bit, and she realized who the person was.

"Lando?" she asked, voice slurring.

"Yeah, it's me. I got you."

She started sobbing, trembling hands gripping his jacket as he wrapped her in a hug, letting her cry into his chest.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here. It's okay, you're safe now," he whispered to her as he rubbed her back.

"I-I was so, so scared," she cried.

"I know, I know. I got you."

Lando then used one hand to fish out his phone, calling the police. They waited while the police showed up, him trying to keep her awake.

When the police arrived, one of the officers arrested the unconscious man on the ground while the other rode with them in the ambulance to take their statements. Y/n never let go of Lando's hand once.

The hospital kept her overnight for observation after making sure whatever drug she was spiked with wasn't lethal, and collecting evidence and taking pictures of her injuries. She had finally given in to unconsciousness, and Lando was sitting next to her, holding her hand.

It was only when everything was a little settled down that he saw that she had nearly 100 missed calls from various drivers. Shit, he forgot about that.

He opened up his phone and called Daniel.

"Hey, man I can't talk right now," Daniel said right away, sounding panicked.

"Hold on—"

"Actually, do you by chance know where Y/n is?"

"Yeah, about that, I'm in the hospital—"

"What? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Can you let me finish my sentence? I'm with Y/n. She was drugged and I saw her on the street. Some man was dragging her with him, and she was clearly asking him to leave her alone. Anyway, she's a little banged up, but she's okay, nothing happened. They're just keeping her overnight for observation."

Daniel let out a big sigh of relief, said something to someone next to him, and then turned back to the phone.

"Thank fuck, we've been trying to find her for hours. Thank you, Lando, seriously. I can't imagine if you hadn't been there. What hospital is she at?"

After telling him where they were, he hung up. 

Lando sighed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as he reflected on what the hell just happened. 

Y/n shifted in front of him, and he immediately sat up straight. 

"Lando?" she mumbled, voice hoarse and still half-asleep. 

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here. Do you remember what happened?"

She paused, but then her face crumpled, and she nodded. 

"It's okay, it's okay, don't cry," he soothed. 

"You saved me. I thought you would've just let him take me."

Lando's eyebrows furrowed, stomach twisting just at the thought.

"Why would you think that?"

"You hate me," she muttered, eyes looking down. 

"I don't," he paused, hesitating. "I don't hate you at all. I...I didn't plan on ever telling you this, but I really like you. You're funny, you're witty, you're kind, you're fearless, you never back down from a challenge, and I love all those things about you. And I know you probably want nothing to do with me and you hate my guts, but I just need to get it off my chest―"

"―Lando, just shut up and kiss me. I like you too, idiot."

Lando grinned, showing the gap between his front two teeth that she always loved, and leaned down to connect their lips. 

"Do you think people would get suspicious if we stopped being mean to each other?" he asked.

"Probably. We should just hard launch."

"I don't think our PR teams would appreciate that."

Later, when Daniel made it to the hospital, he was extremely surprised to see the two of them cuddled up together. He just had to take a picture.

[myspacebrat]

welcome to the dungeon…

modern sex shop steddie x only fans reader

summary: it’s just your luck that the two men you planned to shoot a scene with canceled last minute. It’s also just your luck that your usual sex shop you frequent is closed, leaving you to make a thirty minute trip ending up in a town called Hawkins… it’s also just your luck that the two men behind the counter totally know who you are and might perhaps even be willing to shoot that scene with you?

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, fem reader, no use of y/n, mentions of weed, overuse of pet names, overuse of the word cock (not sorry), sex on camera, oral sex (male & fem receiving), rim job (male receiving), p in v sex & p in a sex (fem receiving), double dipping (don’t recommend), use of an anal plug, full nelson position, double penetration, daddy kink, squirting, cream pies, dom!eddie, switch!steve, sub!reader, flufffff.

authors note: absolutely no one asked for this, but I felt v compelled to write it. Thank you to my loves @take-everything-you-can, @corrodedcorpses and @xxhellfiregirlxx for beta reading, appreciate you all so so much <333.

wc: 9.4k

Part two | series masterlist

Thirty minutes… your gps says the only other sex shop near you is thirty minutes away, in a town you’ve never even heard of before. Harkins or Hawkins, something like that?

Of course, if anything could go wrong today it most definitely will. And has.

It all started when you spilled iced coffee all over the front of your new white dress, then your favorite vibrator went out, you also seemed to misplace your butt plug which in your line of work is a travesty… then the two men you had planned a collab with had to cancel last minute.

That’s the last time you ever plan to work with a couple.

So now you’re in your car, listening to your favorite Spotify playlist while your hair whips through the wind.

Making it into Hawkins was so underwhelming, you could never live in a town like this… no chance in hell. You begrudgingly roll up your windows when the smell of cow shit wafts through the air.

God, if the sex toys suck I swear it’ll be my thirteenth reason.

“The destination is on your left.” Siri's voice echoes through your speakers.

You pull into a parking spot right up front, luckily the lot seemed to be pretty empty. You gather your purse and phone before allowing your eyes to flicker along the building now in perfect view—

The bricks were painted black, the store seemed as if it went on for ages and the red LED sign that read “the dungeon” seemed to taunt you.

You would’ve totally mistaken this place for some kind of bdsm club had you not known it was a sex shop. Clearly this town isn’t as conservative as it seems.

“Welcome to the dungeon!” The boy behind the counter sweetly recites with a welcoming smile. His honey brown eyes immediately catch your attention, along with his pretty brown head of hair.

Oh he’s cute!

“Thank you.” You smile back while hesitantly walking up to him, you quickly decide it’s best to just ask where the things you need are located instead of having to look around mindlessly, considering this was one of the biggest sex shops you’ve been in.

“Hi,” you purr while leaning up against the counter, “I need help looking for a few things.” Leaving your cleavage perfectly on display for the pretty boy in front of you.

“Oh yeah, sure, what are you looking for?” He shoots you a charming smile before leaning in closer to you.

“butt plugs, lube and vibrators.” You divulge with a pretty smile.

“Mmm, yeah I can help you find all of that. Let me just call my partner up here to take over.” He says with a wink.

You allow yourself to ogle at him a bit as he talks almost secretively over a walkie talkie; you observe his light brown eyes that twinkle with excitement, to the pretty beauty marks that seem to litter his skin, to the way his hair perfectly coifs.

“Alright, Eddie should be up here soon to take over.” He announces with a beaming smile.

“Thanks Steve.” You respond with a flirty bat of your lashes.

He looks at you for a moment as if a deer caught in headlights before his eyes shift down to his name tag, reminding himself it was in fact still pinned to his black shirt. A black shirt with red print of said sex shop; that hugged his biceps and chest so perfectly, that also showed off those speckled and toned arms that you now realized were spotted with a few tattoos.

You hear shuffling footsteps as another cute boy with wild wavy hair and even more tattoos walks up from behind you, his face is adorned in a knowing smirk as he hungirly looks you up and down.

“Alright, I’m here.” He declares before giving Steve a playful slap to his ass.

Steve rolls his eyes as his cheeks flush.

“Right this way.” He murmurs before looking back to the boy behind the counter and nodding as if Eddie had mouthed something to him.

Curious

“So, what brings you all the way to Hawkins?” Steve asks as he walks a couple steps ahead, his hands nervously shoved in his pockets.

“The shop I usually go to in Indy was closed so.. I had to drive like 30 minutes out of the way to come here.” You huff in exasperation.

“Oh I’m sorry about that…well we have the best sex toy selection in all of Indiana if that's any consolation.” His eyes nervously find yours before giving you a little smirk.

“Yeah, I see that. I’m surprised actually, never thought I’d find a sex shop like this in such a small town.”

“Well, you know what they say.. small towns have the biggest freaks.” He says with a laugh that makes your lower stomach flutter. He’s so pretty.

“Do they say that?” You giggle with a teasing raise of your eyebrows.

“I mean that’s what I’ve heard.” He shrugs his shoulders before licking at his bottom lip. “Okay, butt plugs… here we are.” He presents with a wave of his hand, showing off the wide selection and varieties.

“Oh wow,” is all you say as you let your hands skim over the array of silicone, metal and glass toys.

You grab a long metal plug, the packaging says the ridges are sensation bumps, which piqued your interest immediately.

“That ones my favorite.” Steve says with a bashful smile.

“Oh yeah? You use it on your girlfriend a lot or..?” You question as you internally pray he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“No…I um, I use it on myself or my boyfriend… Eddie he’s uh- me and him are together.” He finally spits out.

“Oh okay, cute.” Is all you say, before grabbing the recommended plug that you’ve now noticed has a pretty red jewel at the bottom.

Your old baby was a pink silicone with just a regular white jewel, but you were excited to play with the ridges on this new one.

You grab a bottle of lube off one of the shelves before you and Steve make your way in complete silence towards the vibrators.

Steve was now a mystery to you, considering you knew he’d been flirting with you… also the way they both eyed you up and down? They had to be into women too, right?

We’ll see.

Once Steve shows you to the vibrators you snatch up the exact one that went out on you, it was your favorite and you weren’t in the mood to switch up what brought you ample amounts of pleasure.

“She knows what she wants..” Steve says with a low rasp that was doing no favors for your panties.

“This thing gives me back to back orgasms.” You say with a playful tilt of your head.

“Oh does it? Interesting.” He murmurs with a nod of his head, the look on his face was too cocky as if he knew something you didn’t.

He couldn’t have seen my videos, right?

“I’m gonna take a look at the lingerie and then I’ll be ready to check out in a bit.” You declare before giving Steve one last sweet smile.

You walk up to the counter with a handheld basket of the toys you came for a long with some pretty lingerie sets and a couple pairs of crotchless panties.

Eddie and Steve are standing huddled together, facing away from the register, talking rather secretively as the metalhead shows the pretty boy something on his phone. They quickly break apart when they notice your arrival.

Hmm, that’s suspicious.

“Hey,” Eddie greets with a smirk, “find everything, okay?” He asks before a shaky exhale.

“Mmhm, Steve was a big help.” You say coyly as you take everything out of the red basket one by one, setting it on the counter to be rung up.

“I bet.” His smile gets devilish as he shoots a look at the blushing boy behind him.

“So how’s your day going?” He continues to probe.

“Honestly, not great…” you pout while studying the boys faces closely for their reactions. “Well, it’s better now that I’ve gotten these …” you say pointing to the plug and vibrator. “But, I had a collab scheduled and well the two guys I was supposed to work with canceled on me at the last minute, and I guess I’m just really horny and frustrated.. ya know?” You feel your frustrations finally coming to the forefront as a lump forms in your throat.

“Hmm, a collab?… what kind of collab?” His cocky smile manages to send a shiver down your spine. Oh, these boys were making you feel things you haven't in years.

You can also totally tell he’s fishing, he already knows, that was confirmation enough but you decide to go along with their ruse.

“I do only fans, so it was supposed to be a bisexual threesome. Probably some dp, frotting, a daisy chain.. things like that.” You list away as both boys' eyes widen at your frankness.

“Shit.” You hear Eddie mumble under his breath as he shifts in front of you.

“Me and uh, me and Stevie here have always wanted to um, ya know, do a threesome with a chick.” He confesses as the redness from his cheeks travel down along his long tattooed neck.

“Have either of you ever been with a woman before?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah, w-we both have, before we started dating.” Steve answers quickly.

“Oh okay, so you both like women too, or…?” you continue to indulge in your curiosity.

“Absolutely we do, sweetheart.” Eddie snickers, “especially ones who are up for taking two men at once.” He winks with a seductive lick of his plump lips.

“Down boy.” Steve chides, as he rolls his eyes at his boyfriend's brashness.

“He’s a bit shy, don’t mind him.” Eddie whispers with a downright devious smirk.

“Shy boys are my favorite to play with.” You say towards Steve with a wink.

“You hear that big boy?” The metalhead guffaws.

Big boy…

How could you not be immediately intrigued by words like that?

“So O.F. huh?” Eddie smugly asks “ya know, you do look pretty familiar, maybe we’ve seen your stuff.”

“Maybe you have…” you say before pulling out your phone to pull up your most recent video, it was a solo vid of you fucking your self with a pink dildo while your ass was stuffed full of your beloved anal plug (rip)

Before clicking on the video for their viewing pleasure, a username catches your eye: @bigboyandhellfire. Judging by the fact that Eddie called Steve big boy and Eddie’s throat tattoo so clearly reads ‘hellfire’ you’re now more than positive they are subscribed to you and they’ve liked your most recent video.

The throb between your thighs pulses and you’re trying so hard not to clench them together as tight as they’ll go.

“Hey, are you both busy after this?” You examine as both their faces shift to equal amounts of interest and curiosity.

You had balls, you had big fucking balls but you already knew that. You’d never been the type to shy away from anything, you’ve always been an “i’ll try anything once” kind of girl so it shouldn't surprise you that you propositioned two of your subscribers you met at a sex shop no less, to shoot content with you.

After their shift you had all gone out for some food and drinks. You were able to get a taste for their personalities and in turn it helped you feel much better about your compulsive decision.

You learned they were truly great guys, who were very in love, but also had so much extra love to give… by the end of the night it felt as if you’d known them forever, almost like you had fit so perfectly into their already incredible relationship.

You'd never really considered polyamory for yourself, which is surprising in your line of work as you have tons of friends who are very poly and proud. You just never thought you'd find more than one person who’d love you and willingly share you as all of your exes were jealous little shits, but now you’re completely rethinking any stances you've had on basic monogamous relationships for yourself.

After all of Eddie's dirty but hilarious jokes and Steve's absolute charm you explained to the boys how things worked; positions for the perfect shots, things they were into and things you were into, as well as hard limits between you all. You couldn't believe how much in common you had with them, sexually. That almost never happens with other creators.

The last and most important thing you needed from them before going any further were negative test results. The plan was for them to get tested, have the pdf file sent over to you to prove they were both clean and then they were to meet you at your apartment that night.

“You ready, big boy?” the metalhead beams over to his boyfriend before they swiftly exit their shared jeep.

“Hey, you alright over there?” Eddie asks with concern as he drapes his heavily tattooed arm over Steve’s broad shoulders.

“Yeah no, I'm fine. Just nervous I guess.” He softly admits as he and Eddie cross the street, making their way into the clinic.

“Nervous to get tested or nervous to fuck our dream girl?” Eddie snorts at his own words.

“Honestly, a bit of both.” Steve confesses as he shyly cowers away into his boyfriend's chest, Eddie has always found Steve’s coy shyness utterly adorable, he wanted so badly to eat him up everytime he put his pretty head of hair into his chest or on his shoulder.

“I know I'm clean, since ya know i’ve never gone without a rubber, but I don't know, it's still nerve wracking I guess.” the honey eyed boy disclosed with a harsh breath into his boyfriend's neck.

“We’ll be alright, baby. It’ll be worth it, I mean how long have we been subscribed to her and how often have we come to the idea of her being between us?” Eddie acknowledged a little too loudly as the women in line ahead of them turned back to give them a disapproving look, making Steve’s cheeks tinge the sweetest shade of pink.

“Will you keep it down?” he sharply whispers into his boyfriend's brown waves, making Eddie cackle in amusement.

After an hour of leaving the clinic and grabbing some food as they awaited the results, they both get a ding on their phones. Steve’s eyes widen as he continues to chew on an extra big bite of his burger before harshly swallowing it down and cautiously grabbing his phone, as Eddie grabs his without a care in the world. To be fair Steve was much more sexually active before him and Eddie had gotten together; as in Steve had a huge hoe faze his Junior and Senior year of high school and although he had never forgotten to use protection, there was still a chance he could have caught something, or at least that’s what Steve’s anxiety riddled brain keeps telling him.

He stares at the results as a loud exhale is shared between the couple.

Steve catches his boyfriend's eye as his face scrunches up in confusion.

“I thought you weren't nervous?” He asks as a relieved smile spreads across his face.

“I never said that, I just have to be the brave one and talk you off the ledge. But believe me that shit is nerve inducing for anyone. Hell, I'd be nervous even if I still had my v card.” The metal head guffaws, popping a fry he’d dipped in his vanilla shake into his mouth, making Steve grimace in disgust at his boyfriend's condiment of choice.

“Yeah, true.” He quickly agrees.

Steve never thought to get tested or to make this big of a fuss about it, but after seeing the results, it left him with a sense of relief for something he may have subconsciously been worried about.

“WOOH!” Eddie shouts with excitement, “you ready to do this, Stevie?” He asks with the biggest, brightest smile while scanning his boyfriends beautiful face.

“Fuck yeah, I am.”

“Michelle, are you even listening to me?” You pout into your phone's camera while on a somewhat grainy facetime chat with your beautiful bombshell of a best friend who seems to be occupied by the little smoke sesh/kick back she is hosting, the only one you’ve ever missed.

“Yes bitch, of course I am.” She says with slight annoyance, “come on, show me the options.”

You set up your phone on one of the many tripods that sit facing your bed before backing away with two sets of lingerie, “Okay, so I have this baby pink set or this like, deep blood red set with the knee high stockings and garter belt.” You say with a slight tremble to your voice that reaches your hands.

This is so not you, you’re never nervous to shoot content with even the biggest names…so what is it about these two boys that have you anxiously awaiting their arrival?

“Oh, def the blood red one, its fucking hot!” Michelle growls the word ‘hot’ into the speaker, slightly distorting the sound before you see a cloud of smoke billowing from her mouth.

“Yay! That's the one I was gonna choose anyway, since it matches my new butt plug.” You squeak in excitement.

“You fuckin’ freak.” Your best friend guffaws, “Maybe you and your boy toys can come through after y'all are done with your little fuckfest.”

You giggle at her choice of words as you begin to remove your robe and slip into the red lingerie set, foregoing the panties so you can lube and stretch yourself out for the buttplug you want to have inserted before Steve and Eddie show up.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll ask if they’re up for it when we finish.”

Finally, your hair and makeup are close enough to perfection, your lace set was on and hugging all the right curves on your body along with the knee highs and garter belts, your butt plug was sitting nice and snug inside your recently waxed puckered hole.

You begin to set up the ring lights around your room brightening the two in the front to max brightness as you've already lost sunlight, then you perfectly angle your tripods towards your big 70’s inspired circular bed, adorned with black silk sheets.

Once you’re setting out the lube and different toys you think the boys would be into, you hear the doorbell ring and all the busying you've been doing to try and calm your mind from complete and utter nervousness is now null and void as it all comes rushing back within an instant.

You saunter downstairs practically slipping on oak wood floors, no thanks to your nylon stocking like knee highs that hug your dainty feet.

Reaching the door, you pull it open with slight aggression that you can only blame on the anxious beating of your heart, here you are opening the door in nothing but lingerie yet that’s not even the part you’re nervous about. No, you're never nervous about showing your body off, as you’re quite proud of it, instead you're nervous because these two beautiful boys that you had an instant connection with will be in your presence, you have to keep reminding yourself they already like you, they’re subscribed to you for fucks sake, so there has to be some type of attraction there.

‘Just be yourself and you'll be fine’ is what you repeat like a mantra in your mind, something you haven't repeated since you were the new kid in 6th grade, entering into an unknown world of small town life in the midwest.

“Fuck me.” The long haired boy gasps under his breath as he eyes you up and down, his pretty boy boyfriend stands beside him with his mouth agape in shock, half lidded eyes and a soft and sweet blush to his cheeks.

“Come inside and I will.” You giggle as you take the expensive looking champagne they had brought along. You can always appreciate the people that don't show up to a shoot empty handed.

They step inside, curiously looking around your ‘too big for just you, house’.

“Do you live alone?” Steve questions shyly as Eddie continues to shamelessly check you out.

“I do, so you don't have to worry about anyone interrupting or listening in.” You add in an attempt to ease his tense shoulders that have been that way since you opened the front door. Even though you were nervous you wanted to make them as comfortable as possible, since this was their first time doing anything of this nature.

“So, you live in this big ass house all alone?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Yup, a big three bedroom house just for me. My roommate just moved out actually, so I've got the place to myself now. It's not so bad, unless you know of anyone who's looking to live with a porn making roomie?” you say with a smile and hand propped under your chin, in a cute pose.

The boys both smirk as they continue to eye everything up, as if in high interest of the offer you had just given them, well not them specifically but someone they knew. But their lease to their shitty apartment was almost up and they had been talking about moving out of Hawkins and to the city, nothing was keeping them in that shit hole town and there were so many more opportunities in indy. Maybe it was something they could bring up later.

“So… how do we start this?” Eddie questions, his usual cocky facade slipping as he cracks his knuckles out of nervousness.

“Well once I hit record, we just kinda start it how ever you’d start just a regular fuck.” You say as you shrug your shoulders. “So, my phone is set up on this tripod, can one of you offer up your phone so I can set it up on this other one? I want as many angles as possible.” You ask sweetly as you point to the tripod that sits on the left corner of the bed.

“Yeah, you can use mine.” Steve quickly offers “the code is eddie or 33343.” He coyly asserts before his boyfriend is pulling him back to plant a big wet kiss to his lips.

That action alone made you throb between your thighs, Jesus you couldn’t wait to see how they’d make that burning feeling in your belly erupt.

You open his phone to a sweet background picture of him and Eddie; Steve kissing the metalheads cheek as a bashful looking Eddie, playfully flips off the camera.

You quickly open the camera and click the video option, before setting it onto the black base.

“Okay so, Eddie can I use your phone for like, close up and POV angles?” You ask as Eddie walks over and plops down onto your bed before leaning back to remove his phone from his side pocket. “You can use anything you’d like, princess.” He flirts with a wink, causing your stomach to swoop with butterflies.

He sets his phone down by the lube on your side table, for later.

After you’ve finished the setup process and helped the boys undress down to their boxers all while kissing each other, albeit without the cameras rolling which was so foreign for you, you never touched a costar if it wasn’t being recorded.

But you couldn’t help it, when you were lifting up Eddie’s shirt and he went in for a chaste kiss to your lips, the same one he planted on Steve earlier, It quickly heated up as he slipped his tongue into your mouth while you were unbuckling his belt.

Steve comes up behind you and whispers in your ear “is this okay?” Before he places a tender kiss to the side of your neck, causing a mean shiver to run down your spine, making both boys smile into your skin.

You nod to Steve’s question with a moan, before he begins to attack your neck with sweet yet sloppy kisses.

Both boys reach for your bra clasp on your back, unhooking it with ease and allowing it to quickly fall to the floor, only to be kicked out of the way.

You pull your lips away from Eddie’s to chase Steve’s, removing his shirt before kissing him with absolute hunger, causing him to groan into your mouth.

“Fuck, we have to stop before we don’t get anything recorded.” You giggle before walking over to the tripods. “Eddie, take his pants off.” You demand before you’re waiting behind the camera for the perfect time to hit the button.

Once Steve’s pants are off and he’s down to his black Calvin Klein briefs, you order them in what position to stand in; both facing the camera, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, beside your bed.

You hit the record button on both phones then saunter up to them, placing a kiss to each of their lips before dropping to your knees.

You look up at both boys as you bring your hands to rub them over their boxers, making them both hiss simultaneously.

You pull Steve’s cock out first and big boy is right! He has one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen, and it instantly makes your mouth water. It’s so pretty and thick with the pinkest head, totally reminds you of how pink his cheeks get when he’s shy. God, it makes you want to stick his cock so far down your throat and never come back up for air.

Instead you kiss the tip before looking up at him, and licking away the yummy bead of precum that sits on his pretty pink slit. You make a whole show of it while holding it on the tip of your tongue so he and Eddie can see, before sensually bringing it into your mouth, moaning at the taste, “mmm, you taste so good.” You purr, as you take him fully into your mouth.

Both boys moan out at your little display.

You give Steve a couple hard sucks to his head before taking him back into your throat, bobbing your head and letting him fuck your mouth until your eyes water.

“Holy fuck.” The pretty boy groans as his head falls back, he places a rough hand through your hair and tightens the strands between his fingers.

Eddie, ever the impatient one, slides his checkered boxers down his legs and strokes at his hard almost equally girthy and long cock a couple times before he’s grabbing a handful of your hair and making you instantly pop off of Steve’s cock and on to his.

“That’s right baby, let us use you.” He groans as he begins fucking your throat.

You had all talked about this that night at the diner, you told them you enjoyed being used, you wanted them to pass you back and forth like a whore.

Eddie had a nice chuckle at that.

The curly haired boy grabs his phone off your side table, before opening the camera and hitting record as he continues to fuck your throat. All that could be heard were gawking noises and Eddie’s pretty moans and groans, after getting a close up shot of you pulling off of his cock and gasping for air as a string of spit falls out of your mouth and onto your tits.

Eddie passes the phone to Steve silently telling him to record.

Once his hands are free he cups underneath your chin and threads his ringed fingers back into your hair as he begins to fuck your throat with reckless abandon.

“Oh my fucking god, your throat baby. And no fucking gag reflex? Just taking it all aren’t you?” He growls as his head falls down towards his chest, getting a good look at how your tears have caused your makeup to smudge and smear, it’s the hottest thing the guys have ever seen.

“My turn.” Steve demands pulling you off from a particularly deep thrust Eddie had made, spit falling in strings to the floor and your thighs, but most landing on your tits, nipples so peaked and wet with your drool.

“Fuck yeah, get back on my cock you little slut.” Holy shit, where did shy little steve go? Cause whoa, you think you might like this version even better.

Steve fucks your throat until it’s sore before Eddie’s bringing you back to him, stuffing your face into his balls as you licked and sucked at them. “That’s right, dirty girl. Suck my balls. Fuck.”

You give a few more swipes of your tongue to his sensitive sack before you take both balls into your mouth, lightly sucking until you hear the sounds of smacking above you. Looking up to the beautiful sight of them making out, tongues and spit being passed back and forth, gives you a good idea.

You slip Eddie’s balls out of your mouth before grabbing both of their cocks at the base, they both look so huge with your dainty hands wrapped around them.

You bring both cocks up to your mouth, fitting them in as you open your mouth to maximum capacity. They break their filthy kiss as they groan, both sets of eyes falling down on you as you fit two huge cocks into your very skilled mouth, deepthroating as spit drips down their cocks.

“Such a messy girl.” Eddie tsks, as they simultaneously thread their hands into your hair, pushing you even deeper on their cocks, making their cock heads rub together so beautifully inside your mouth.

You remove your mouth again as you begin gasping for air. Steve still has the pov camera on you, as you begin to rub their spit soaked, pink cock heads together.

“Two of the prettiest cocks I’ve ever seen.” You say up at the camera with a giggle, making both boys smile and groan down at you.

You suck at Steve’s balls next as you continue to jerk both boys' cocks in each hand.

“Okay fuck. Get up here baby.” Steve growls as he lifts you up by your hair, not gentle whatsoever which is exactly what you asked him for.

Eddie pushes you down onto your bed, your butt sliding along the black silk sheets as you laugh at their absolute desperation; they need you as much as you need them, you can feel that want in the air.

Eddie wants you, Steve wants you, you want them and they want each other. It’s a beautiful dynamic. One you could get used to.

Focus.

“Let’s remove these pretty panties baby, need to see that even prettier pussy.” Eddie murmurs before he bends down and plants a sweet kiss to your inner thigh and another one on the other to match before he’s spreading your legs back towards your shoulders.

You’re certainly not used to your co stars being so soft and sweet towards you, it makes the throb in your clit amplify and your heart race with an unknown feeling.

“Fuck, look at that.” Eddie groans as your slick soaked pussy is now fully on display for both boys, making their eyes roll back at the way your sticky folds part with strings of your arousal keeping them connected, Steve is licking at his lips like a man ready to devour a four course meal.

It’s not a secret that both boys miss pussy, they love each other's bodies, no doubt about that. Steve loves getting stretched out on Eddie’s cock and Eddie loves to do the stretching, but fuck if they don’t miss the taste and feel of pussy too. They often talk about it in the throes of their passion, about how nice it would be for Steve to have a pussy to fuck into while he’s getting his guts rearranged by the metalhead, that kinda talk makes the pretty boy cum over Eddie’s fist every time, as he tries his best to mimick the warmth and tightness of a pussy with his hand, all while whispering absolute filth into Steve’s ear.

“Move up onto your pillows, sweet girl.” Eddie suggests as his fingers trace the red jewel attached to the plug that is nestled deep between your cheeks. You’re not really sure what they have in mind but you’re so far gone and you’re totally willing to give up all control to these two men, another thing you never do.

Once your head hits your pillows, your hair is fanned out around you and both boys are still eyeing your body like a snack, you slowly open your legs, hiking them up towards your shoulders like Eddie had you on the edge of the bed but this time both your arms keep them pulled back. They lick their lips as their cocks twitch at your flexibility, something they’ve seen in your videos as long time subscribers of yours.

“Jesus.” Steve whispers under his breath, grabbing the pov phone and walking on his knees to get a closer look for the camera and let’s be honest, himself.

“Damn, look at that soaking fucking wet pussy, it’s so ready to be fucked isn’t baby?” Steve asks as he brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing soft circles into it, making you jolt up as your eyebrows knit together and a pretty moan falls from your open lips.

“Yes, it’s so ready.” You agree with your subby little breathy voice they love so much.

“Soon baby, first we gotta get our tongues on you.” Eddie says as he come up to rest beside Steve, and if you think this is going where you think it is, it is very fucking welcome.

Steve removes his thumb from your clit, sticking it into his boyfriend's mouth, making Eddie moan around the younger boy's finger, at your taste.

They both lay on their stomachs between your hiked up legs, Steve has his hand on the outside of one thigh and Eddie has his hand on the other, they both bring their heads in at the same time to lick at your clit. The tip of their tongues rub against each other while your puffy sensitive clit is between their soft pink muscles, making your toes curl and your back arch from the intense pleasure.

“Fuck!” You moan loudly as you take the abandoned pov camera and point it down towards the boys, as they both look up at you.

Eddie winks and you’re not sure if it’s for the camera or for you but you continue to watch them on the screen, as they share and bully your clit. Steve spits on it making Eddie lick it up and off your throbbing bud, they both begin soft licks before Eddie grabs Steve’s head and pulls him in for a sloppy kiss, their faces still so close to your pussy you can feel Eddie’s stubble rub against your clit, making you moan out louder.

“Mmm, I gotta get an even better taste of your pussy.” Eddie mewls as he brings his tongue down to your hole, fucking you with it while Steve begins to lap at your pink swollen bud, again.

You’ve never felt such pleasure before.

“Holy shit, I’m g-g-gonna c-cum!” You whine as both boys speed up their ministrations.

“Mmm, cum for us, pretty girl.” Steve moans into your pussy.

Eddie removes his tongue bringing it back up to slide against Steve’s on your clit, before plunging two fingers inside of you and curling them, instantly hitting your sweet spot, making you thrust your hips up to chase their tongues and Eddie’s magic fingers.

“Fuck, I’m c-cumming!” You begin to shake, as your legs fight Eddie and Steve’s strong hands that are holding them down towards the bed.

They lick and finger fuck you through the longest and most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, before they’re removing their mouths and Eddie’s removing his fingers.

Steve opens his mouth with his tongue hanging out, like an obedient little slut as Eddie plunges his fingers into the pretty boy’s mouth making Steve close his lips and expertly sucks on the two fingers that were just deep inside you. It’s so fucking hot.

And you’re filming it all with the pov camera for your viewers pleasure, but let’s be honest it’s mainly for yours.

There’s no way you won’t look back on this video as you play with your vibrator in the exact position you’re in now, absolutely no way.

“I’ve gotta get my cock inside you.” Eddie pouts as he lays down towards the end of the bed in between both cameras as they focus on him perfectly.

You were excited to try this position you had all talked about, it’s not one you saw much of in mmf threesomes so you were happy to do something a little different.

You straddle Eddie’s waist, sitting on his thighs as his cock rests so prettily against his happy trail, reaching all the way up to his belly button. You let your eyes roam his body and the insane amount of tattoos that cover every inch of skin, they all look like they belong in some kind of fantasy novel.

Steve finally straddles Eddie’s face, his leaky cock sitting just above Eddie’s mouth as his pink asshole is displayed for you. You’ve given a couple rim jobs but holy shit, if you weren’t gonna enjoy eating Stevie’s little hole the most.

Steve’s head was resting face down in your pillows, but he had it angled to where you can see his reactions to all the pleasure you and Eddie were about to give him.

At almost the same time you grab Eddie’s cock that continues leaking copious amounts of precum, Eddie grabs Steve's from between his thighs.

You slowly sink down onto Eddie’s warm throbbing sex, before he's shoving Steve into his mouth to the hilt. Eddie groans around Steve’s cock as Steve groans out from Eddie’s mouth.

Finally when you’re stretched and ready to start moving you lower your head, bringing your tongue to Steve’s pretty, smooth hole giving it a couple licks before prodding it with the tip of your tongue.

“Fuck, that so fucking good!” The pretty boy groans into your silk pillows as they get wet from the drool that drips from the side of his mouth.

While you’re rolling your tongue back and forth from Steve’s hole, over his gooch and towards his balls, Eddie expertly fucks Steve with his mouth.

Finally, the metalhead plants his feet onto the bed before he starts fucking up into your soaked pussy, making you moan out so loud, if you weren’t so cock drunk on these two men you’d probably be embarrassed.

“Jesus Christ, your pussy feels amazing!” Eddie groans after popping off of Steve’s cock to catch his breath.

Eddie continues to pound into you, the angle you’re in is allowing him to hit your g spot perfectly, over and over until suddenly he has to stop, causing you to whine as you sloppily lap at Steve’s puckered hole.

“I’m gonna cum, I gotta switch positions.” He whispers into Steve’s inner thigh before he gives it a sweet kiss, all while landing a swift playful swat to your ass, causing your fucked out wet cunt to rub against his shaft that’s still dripping with your juices.

You quickly make your way off of Eddie so he can stand up, you’re allowing the boys to have full control as they seem to be very eager and excited for what’s happening, so you sit on your bed as your wet thighs and slick cunt ruin your sheets, waiting for directions.

“On all fours, now.” Eddie demands with a growl in his throat that could get you to do just about anything.

He walks to the dresser to grab the bottle of lube before making his way back with a devious smirk on his face, one that has you vibrating from the inside out.

“You’re gonna suck Stevie’s pretty cock while I double dip your pretty holes, how’s that sound princess?” He says as his hands come up to rub on your exposed ass cheeks, giving the right one a harsh smack. “I said how’s. that. sound?” He spits through his teeth,

“S-sounds good! Please!” Your needy whimper makes both boys laugh, causing your cheeks to heat up. But you couldn’t lie, you loved the degrading feeling of it all.

“Such a needy little thing, isn’t she, baby?” Eddie smirks up towards his boyfriend who’s now laying flat on his back, the metalhead slowly removes your plug before pouring lube on his two fingers and bringing them to your still too tight rim.

“So fucking needy.” Steve agrees with a teasing laugh.

He prods at you with the tips of his fingers, slowly sinking two into your needy hole.

“Mmm.” Is all the only sound you can make around Steve’s girthy cock as Eddie begins fucking you on his long appendages.

Once you’re even more stretched to his liking, Eddie removes his fingers causing you to gasp from the equal amounts of pain and pleasure.

He grabs the meat of your cheeks, two handfuls pulling them apart as far as they’ll go before spitting right onto your already lubed up hole. The surprise action makes you yelp and buck your hips.

“Uh uh, none of that moving shit.” He tsks with a harsher slap to your ass, “you’re gonna lay there and take it like a good little slut, understand?” He grits before you can feel his breath harshly fan over the globe of your right cheek, he bites at the meat but it quickly turns into a rough suck, as he worships your ass while you continue to bob on Steve’s cock and occasionally tongue his hole.

“Yes sir!” You whine after popping off of one of Steve’s balls. You can tell the pretty boy is losing all resolve and he’s seconds away from cumming in your mouth, but you need them both inside of you, so you lazily stroke his cock with your hand as Eddie begins to push into your ass, causing you to cry out into Steve’s thigh.

“Oh fuck, that’s it baby, take it.” The metalhead spits before he’s grabbing your hair and pulling you back, making you release your hand from Steve’s throbbing cock, causing him to whimper in frustration.

Your back is now flushed with Eddie’s chest as he continues to move you with the handful of hair he has a hard unforgiving grip on. He harshly turns your head bringing your lips to his for a dirty, sloppy, mostly tongue, kiss.

“Mmm, you taste so good on our girl’s lips, Stevie.” Eddie groans as him and his boyfriend make eye contact while he continues to fuck deeper into your ass.

You’re so far gone you couldn’t even register or put any further thought into our girl.

“You both look so fucking hot together.” Steve confesses as he bites down on his bottom lip and takes his painfully hard cock into his own hand to stroke.

Eddie gives you one more kiss before he’s pushing your head back down into the mattress and taking his cock out before shoving it into your pussy, giving it a few strokes then moving back into your asshole and repeating. Your eyes roll back into your head as you whimper and moan into your sheets.

Steve comes up beside you to push your hair out of your face, pov camera in hand as he passes it to Eddie in order to get a good close up of the way he’s switching between your holes.

“Hi, pretty girl.” He coos with a soft smile, “You’re doing so fucking good, taking his cock so good, baby.” His praises cause you to tense up and shake, cunt and asshole squeezing Eddie like a vice.

“Don’t you fucking cum yet, hold it!” Eddie scolds, as he dips his cock one more time into your asshole, another harsh slap to your already burning skin.

Eddie pulls out of you, motioning for Steve to follow him. He whispers into his ear off camera, making the pretty boy hum and nod in agreement, a sly smirk gracing both of their faces.

“Come on, angel. Up.” Eddie demands with a snap of his fingers, you’re up and off the bed in a matter of seconds as you stand before both boys, stark naked aside from your thigh highs.

Eddie lays down on his back, still facing the cameras like he was when you rode him, but this time they’re both guiding you to sit on him while you also face the cameras, your ass on full display for the metalhead.

Steve grabs Eddie’s extremely stiff shaft as you straddle him backwards, he teasingly guides Eddie through your slick folds before he’s inserting the long haired boy's cock into your sopping wet pussy.

As you sink down slowly causing the boy behind you to hiss in pleasure, Steve guides your feet onto Eddie’s knees as your hands go back on Eddie’s chest to help keep you balanced.

Once you’re fully impaled on his cock, his silver rings slide against your delicate skin as he holds the backs of your knees up causing your feet to dangle in the air, giving Steve and the cameras the perfect view of eddie fucking into you, and all the pretty faces you’ll make.

Steve drops down to his knees as he observes the way Eddie’s cock squelches in and out of you and how tight you’re gripping him, along with the white ring of your arousal that has gathered at the end of Eddie’s shaft, Steve just wants to lick it off, and he will.

Eddie bounces you by the backs of your knees a couple more times before he’s lifting you up, his cock plops out of you but is quickly retrieved by Steve who takes it into his mouth, moaning as he tastes you and Eddie’s mixture, so heady and earthy but oh so fucking sweet.

He gives Eddie a few strokes before he moves up to lick at your pussy, shoving his tongue inside of you and shoveling some of your wetness out, savoring the delicious taste before he puts Eddie’s cock back inside of you, only to be bounced some more.

Eddie continues hitting your sweet spot, but you’re trying so hard, so fucking hard not to cum.

“That’s it baby, hold it for me. Hold it and I promise I’ll make you see fucking stars…me and Steve both will, okay?…fuck.” Eddie encourages with broken gasps.

He lifts you by the knees again, this time Steve eagerly pulls Eddie from your cunt and laps up your addicting flavor, rolling his tongue up from Eddie’s cock and into your folds, going straight to the source of the sweet nectar he craves, and then rolling his tongue from your clit down to eddies cock and sucking.

“Fuck you’re such a good boy, Stevie.” Eddie groans as his fingers dig into your skin where he still has a hold on you.

“Mmm, I could eat pussy and suck cock all day.” He hums in contentment, making you and Eddie giggle at his fucked out tone.

“That’s right, my little slut boy. Always so eager for daddy’s cock aren’t you?” Eddie chuckles in satisfaction “and now you have the prettiest cunt to eat from… fuck, daddy’s just spoiling you, aren’t I?”

Eddie’s words cause you to moan as you throw your head back, he had a fucking mouth on him and you loved every second of it!

“Mm, I think pretty girl over here likes that.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, before Steve is shoving Eddie’s cock back inside of you, the metalhead begins bouncing you back on his cock but this time he fucks up in to you, making you whimper and babble incoherent words.

“Do you, huh slut? You want me to be your daddy, too? Own this pussy and fuck it whenever I want?” Eddie groans as he throws his head back at how fucking good you feel, he can’t even believe he’s lasted this long, but fuck he’s trying his best to impress you, and maybe just maybe you’ll wanna do this with them again.

“Yes, daddy! Please!” You sob as your legs begin to shake, again.

Both boys practically growl at your words, they fucking love the idea of you being their’s.

Eddie lifts you one more time before he orders Steve to grab the lube and lather his cock with it, once Steve’s done he’s guiding Eddie’s cock into your asshole, watching with hungry eyes as you sink back down onto the metalhead. He’s so turned on by the way the ring of your hole looks being filled to the max by his boyfriend. God, it was so fucking hot.

Steve gives a quick lick to your puckered stretched out skin and up to Eddie’s exposed shaft, mid thrust before he adds a gentle kiss to your clit.

He stands up and gives his cock a couple strokes before he’s guiding himself into your pussy, to help his boyfriend stuff you full, until you’re cumming all over their cocks. Fuck, he couldn’t wait.

You all moan out in tandem as both boys fuck into you, Eddie still holding your trembling legs up and Steve is now holding you around your waist as you both moan into eachothers mouths.

Their thrusts get harder the closer you all get to your glorious releases.

“Oh fuck, okay baby, cum for us. Cmon.” Eddie growls, as his thrusts get even harder.

You’re all so fucked out and ready to cum as the moans throughout the room get louder.

Steve hasn’t stuck his cock in a pussy in years and he’s about two seconds from embarrassing himself and cumming the hardest he has in awhile.

Eddie’s trying his best to hold out, too. But your asshole keeps gripping him and he can feel Steve’s cock through your walls, and his big mouth wants to tell him how good he feels through you, but he knows if he vocalizes it, it’ll make both boys cum in an instant.

“Oh my god!” You finally wail as your legs shake so intensely, Eddie and Steve have to hold them still for you.

“There you go baby, cmon, give it to us.” Steve groans, as he brings his fingers down to your clit drawing soft circles to the overly sensitive pink bud.

Steve’s fingers bring you closer to the edge as a familiar burning in your belly courses through you.

You can barely hold your body up anymore as you tremble and shake, eyes rolling into the back of your head as that all consuming peak hits you harder than it ever has, a splash of liquid shoots out of you like a waterfall onto Steve’s stomach and down on Eddie’s thighs, causing both boys to gasp and moan in complete bliss as they now use you for their own gratification.

Steve loses it first with a loud whimper as his head falls back in pleasure, his beautiful head of hair swishing around on his forehead as he shoots his warm load of cum deep inside of you.

After Steve pulls out and takes a seat up amongst the pillows at the head of your bed, Eddie puts you into a complete full nelson as his hands lace behind your head, he fucks even deeper into you causing you both to scream out in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Eddie howls as his hips come to a complete stop while buried deep inside of your tight, warm hole that continues to suck him in as he cums so much it begins to drip down his shaft. Getting the perfect shot for the cameras that are still rolling.

Eddie gently lifts you off, laying you on the bed close to Steve’s legs as you cling to them, peppering them with soft kisses while Steve runs a soothing hand through your hair.

Eddie takes his phone and records the white creamy cum that seeps from both of your used holes.

Fuck, he feels his cock twitch at the sight of you.

You’re a complete mess and both of your holes are leaking his and his boyfriend’s cum. He swears if this never happens again with you, this will be at the top of his spank bank for the rest of his life.

Eddie gets up to stop the cameras, coming back to give you and Steve a quick kiss before he’s going into your bathroom to search for a rag to clean you up with. He comes out with one of your rolled up white ones that are specifically for decoration, but you don’t have the heart to tell him they’re not to be used.

He brings the wet rag down between your legs and wipes until there’s no more cum seeping from your holes.

“I think this was the best collab I’ve ever done, like my subscribers are gonna love this! Thank you both so much.” You shyly say as you look from one boy to another.

“Of course baby, anytime.” Eddie says with a beaming smile.

“So, my best friend’s having a little hang out, smoke sesh at her house and she invited all of us after we were done with our fuck fest.” You say as you put fuck fest in air quotes, playfully rolling your eyes, making both boys to chuckle in amusement.

“We actually wanted to pop open the champagne and hang out with you, after. I also brought a little treat of my own.” Eddie teases as he picks his jeans up off of the floor and digs in one of the pockets, pulling out a nicely rolled blunt.

He waves it around with a bounce of his eyebrows, as if trying to entice you, before he sticks it behind his ear, for later.

“Okay, that sounds fun. I have a pool, we could go late night swimming.” You suggest to both boys, as they look at you in a way that sends the butterflies in your belly fluttering.

Steve breaks out into a big grin. “Fuck yeah, let’s go swimming.” He says as he jumps up out of your bed, reaching for his boxer briefs.

You stop him before he fully bends down, “how about late night skinny dipping?” You giggle when both boys eagerly nod in agreement.

“I like the way you think, baby.” Eddie says as he throws his arm over your shoulders, walking out of your room and down your stairs, with both boys at your side.

Steve grabs the champagne, then asks where he could find the flutes, before you’re all making your way outside into the fresh night air.

You flip the pool light on before you and Steve walk together, sitting side by side on the first step, warm heated water washing away the goosebumps that have formed on your leg as it rubs up against Steve’s.

He begins to pour you all a glass, as Eddie hands you his joint and lighter before he runs and jumps bare naked ass on display into the pool, making you and Steve cackle, you lay your head on his shoulder while you both continue to die of laughter.

“What are you both laughing at?” Eddie questions with a smirk and curious raise of his eyebrows.

“Your pasty ass.” You retort, making Steve laugh harder.

“Oh I see how it is, you’re ganging up on me now?” Eddie says with faux sadness as he swims closer to you and Steve, playfully grabbing both of your legs as if to try and drag you in, but you and Steve pull him in towards you.

Eddie kisses you first, as he holds your chin in place between his fingers, then he kisses Steve with the same amount of vigor, before Steve is kissing you.

You don’t think you can ever move on from this, it feels too right, like these are your people.

“So, about the roommate position?” Eddie inquires, “how would you feel if, say, two guys you know are very interested, like they would move in tomorrow if they could.” Both boys look at you with the biggest doe eyes, as if you’d say no, as if you wouldn’t want to have them live in this big lonely house with you, possibly starting a new chapter with these two men you have so quickly fallen for.

“I would say, abso-fucking-lutely.”

If your age is not in your bio, I did not tag you.

(Also, tagged everyone above age who interacted with the teaser of this)

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @lil-quinnie @danielabrandt @prettypeachsworld @youare-hackskellington @sebs-oxygen @livsters @wheel-of-hyperfixation @imonhereforareasonsadly @kingdomkitten32 @munson-magic @tiannamortis @katwinchester64 @the-unforgivenn @micheledawn1975 @josephquinnsfreckles @jasminelafleur @emsgoodthinkin @manda-panda-monium @munsonsuccubus @teletubbysteroids @eddies-puppet @munsonssecretblog @eddieslittlewh0re @itsgonnabeoktodsy @randomworker @starrthemushroom @imaautisticchicken @creativename01 @m-chmcl-rmnc @emmerson-1 @siouxiesiouxtryhard @munsonology @pillow-titties @cherryc1nnam0n @wyverntatty @spicedandicedtea @justmeinadaze @violettaskies @bebe07011 @devilinthepalemoonlite @lunatictardis

[sweetnans]

love me already

Pairing: f. reader/bakugo katsuki Summary: dual POV where mc is tired of waiting for Bakugo to be truth and confess his feelings for her. tw: none. Just fluff and chaos.

"Y'know, I think I'll just tell Bakugo I like him." You were drunk, and a sort sense of boldness invaded you all of a sudden.

"Girl, don't do that." Mina put her hands on your bare thigh from your skirt ridden up. "Wait till you sober up"

You were hanging with Mina after a month of not seeing each other, being pro heroes tide up your schedule so you were out of reach most of the time, only reachable by the phone. You had a blast of a night, went clubbing, and drank while dancing like old times.

"He's playing with my mind, I swear," the words spurred out of your system, and you felt like you might start to cry in any second. "He's always sending texts and asking if I'm hurt after a fight and-"

"Hey! He doesn't do that to me!" Mina whined, putting her left hand above his heart.

"Exactly! He's this obsessive fucker who thinks he's better than everyone else, always so cocky and he had me wrapped around his fingers with the details that I know he only do to me, so obnoxious" you let a sigh trying to come down from your despertarion but something made you see red again. "And yet he never confessed! I'm tired Mina what if he's just playing with me and doesn't want anything serious just fuck with me and hop on to the next. Maybe he thinks I'm playing hard to get, and now I'm kind of a challenge to him, you know the bastard"

Now you were upset.

"Mmhm, just give him some time. He has had a crush on you since we were at UA" Mina bit his nails and poured another glass for you.

"Exactly, that's what everyone says! His mom, his dad even Midoriya who can't catch a fucking clue even if it's tingling in front of his eyes. If He thinks I'm going to wait forever for him to grow a pair of balls? He's got another thing coming. " You downed the entire glass, and Mina hurried to pour another.

...

"She haven't talked to me in an hour," Katsuki stated, folding some papers on his desk.

"Man, it's her night off duty, I heard Mina said that they were going out tonight," Kirishima made a spun in his chair. "Partying and doing girl's shit"

Bakugo hated staying in the office so late, but the papers were not going to fill themselves out. At least Kirishima was there with him, trying to calm him down, but doing a pretty bad job.

"I swear if Mina let her fall into a ditch again I'm going to-"

"For fuck sake, bro!" Kirishima rolled his eyes, almost disappearing in his skull. "It was one time! Let it go. She was fine and giggling like a mad woman when you went to her rescue"

"I just worry about her," he grunted. "I'm a hero, that's my work"

"Yeah, with civilians, but she's a real hero, y'know." Kirishima pushed. Not in the six years that he'd seen Bakugo after you, has he been able to get the real confession out of his mouth.

Bakugo checked his phone again. Nothing.

...

"I'm going to get up there and tell him that I'm done waiting for him"

You didn't know how you convinced Mina into your crazy idea, but now you were outside, in front of your apartment's lobby, waiting for a cab.

"Don't you think you need to reconsider, maybe? You're tipsy honey, what if he's not even there" Mina tried to talk to you out of it, but she knew better, you were stubborn as hell, the least she could do was following you and making sure that, this time, you didn't end up in a ditch.

"He's there, he told me," you stopped a cab lifting a finger and told the driver the direction.

The way to Katsuki's agency was a haze. You remember looking at Mina, her eyes closed, trying to rest before the chaos breaks loose.

"Do you know what you are going to say?" She mumbled with her eyes closed and grabbed your hand to reaffirm her company and her friendship.

You had no idea.

...

"This is taking ages," Kirishima complained, trying to read the papers and arrange them by dates. "Why can't we just shred them and pretend it didn't happen?"

"The TV broadcasted the fight, you dumbass"

Katsuki was tired too, but he needed to make and fill the reports before tomorrow morning.

"Did she answered you?" Kirishima asked.

It was a lame night. He was practically locked up with his best friend all alone in his office. He had a purpose, and that was making him confess his love for you.

"No," he briefly checked his phone again before returning his eyes to the files. "What if she's in a ditch?"

"She's not!" Kirishima raised his voice qhile laughing, and Katsuki only grunted in response. "So what's the deal with her? You still like her or what?"

"Who told you I liked her in the first place?" He was smug about his answer, not giving away any hint of his real feelings for you.

"C'mon, everybody knows," something dark flowed into Kirishima's mind. He felt like a child poking a mad dog with a stick. "At least in our class, I mean, I remember Todoroki showing interest in her once, and you completely beat him up in spared fight, and Mirio that time he gave her a flower from the patio, you were fuming I still remember the red shade of angry in the tips of your ears"

"Keep working"

That phrase only gave him more fuel to continue the poking the beast game.

"Man, why don't you just be truth to yourself? Like, is it that hard to accept the feelings you have for her? She's amazing, smart, beautiful, She's a beast on the field and has a great heart. What's the problem, Dynamight?

He touched a sensitive fiber using his hero name. He always bragged about being the best, bold and facing everything, and everybody who dared to get in his way, but he was acting like a real pussy with you.

"I'm scared I'm not good enough, you happy?" He was upset, and Kirishima was astonished with his confession. He expected an angry gremlin yelling at him for being so annoying, spurring out his confession between variabilities of insults, but he didn't expect his best friend, the know it all and do it all feeling like he wasn't enough.

"Not enough? Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? Yeah, of course you have a shitty attitude, but you care for her. You're the main example of manliness. You are always taking care of her, giving her your attention, making time for taking her out of a ditch while you were patrolling, I mean, I would've left her there" Kirishima joked to make Bakugo less worried about himself. "I'm telling you man, you are it for her, but you gotta hurry the fuck up because what you see in her, everybody could see it too"

In the quietness of his office, full of papers with his best friend, giving shitty but quiet good advice, he realized that he needed to tell you his feelings, he couldn't wait anymore time.

...

You sobered up real quick. Having the massive building in front of you in the middle of a cold and freezing night, returned every sense that you needed in your body.

"You are doubting" Mina established.

"I'm freezing," you counterattacked. "Why didn't you tell me to put some jeans on?"

The dancing and the drinking made you feel hot and raised your temperature and you knew it, so you put on a skirt before going out without thinking you would come out of the house after coming from the club.

The lights were on, in the floor where Bakugo's office was situated. If you squinted your eyes, you could even see the shapes of Kirishima's and Bakugo's bodies through the glass. Or you were just still drunk.

"He won't be there forever, and you're going to catch a cold if you keep us waiting here for something to happen," Mina urged, hugging herself to keep the cold out.

"You're right, it's now or never," you said, walking determinated into the big glass doors to make yourself in.

With Mina behind you, you pushed the doors, and the guard glanced at you. He recognized you and Mina immediately, but you two put your credentials out just for safety. He gave you a nod and you continued your way to the elevator.

"Are you nervous?" Mina asked while you pressed the elevator button.

"Like shit." You watched the countdown in red numbers above the elevator doors. The elevator was in Bakugo's floor so no one was around.

The ding in the elevator startled you a little, and the turmoil in your stomach didn't make it any better. Mina pushed you through the open doors and pressed the button to Bakugo's floor.

...

"Thank god it's done." Kirishima was spining in his chair while Katsuki looked for his stuff to bring them home with him. "Are you ready to face your true feelings?"

Kirishima didn't drop the topic after the big confession and the great advice, he kept pushing his best friend and giving him ideas on how to tell you, some of them were good and some of them were trash, but Bakugo just listened and ignored at the same time.

"Shut the fuck up" Katsuki growled lowly stuffing his belonging into his black backpack.

"Isn't it romantic? Like, after all this time, you could just walk in with a bouquet of flowers and, wait no, walking? That's lame. What about a white horse? Yeah, that's manly. " Kirishima was hopeless, and even though Bakugo showed a scowl at his words he was actually having fun.

"No horses, but maybe a bouquet will be cool," he was making peace with his own feelings. At the end of the day, what was the worst that could happen?

...

"I think I'm going to pee, shit," you pressed your bladder, and Mina laughed at you.

"You can't be serious right now, we are halfway," she said while you danced funny in front of her.

"I'm sorry I process my emotions somatically," you started to feel cloudy, and your hands started to sweat.

"Hey, relax. He's so into you, maybe he'll stand like a rock for the first three seconds but then he will be all over you confessing, don't worry, and if I'm wrong you can always have Shindo"

You made a gag.

"I hate Shindo," you told her.

"But he follow you like a puppy," Mina imitated a cute puppy joining his hands under her chin and poked out her tongue.

The elevator stopped with a big thump, and you feared in a good way. You had your adrenaline up, and there were still remains of booze in your system to give you a boost.

"It's time, big girl." Mina patted your shoulder and gave you a little push.

...

Kirishima stretched himself, and Bakugo took his backpack, grabbing the zipper of a back pocket to fetch the keys of his office to close it.

He was busy looking for the keys when Kirishima started patting him in the arm repeatedly.

"What?" He told him tired and with heavy eyes. Kirishima's eyes were the exact opposite of him. They were big and surprised, looking at the other side of the glass doors of his office.

He followed Kirishima's look and stopped in you.

At first, he thought it was a kind of a mirage, then he thought that maybe he was more tired than he realized, and then he thought that maybe it was a villain whose quirk was morphing into peoples body's.

Every thought ended at the sound of your voice.

...

You walked through the hallway, practicing a speech of what you were going to say to him. You did it over and over, stumbling words in your own mind. You were there, physically and mentally, ready to take all your feelings for him out. You couldn't chicken out.

You saw his figure in the last office at the end of the hallway, body contouring to grab something from his backpack.

Kirishima was the first to notice you, his eyes wide open at the sight of you two walking in the middle of the night like you owned the place. He gave multiple pats to Bakugo's arm, and from afar, you could notice that he was tired.

Maybe your boldness wasn't the best thing to do at that moment.

You couldn't make your way out because he turned his gaze from the backpack to you in a second. By his look, you could see the gears in his brain moving to give some sort of explanation of what was happening in front of him.

He opened the door, forgetting completely that Kirishima was in his way. The red-haired boy pushed him a little, giving him courage, not caring that his best friend kinda kicked him, stumbling against him.

You two were in the same hallway looking face to face. Your two best friends a step back making themselves a crowd in what was about to happen.

"What are -" Katsuki started disoriented, looking for proof or a mark that you were injured or hurt.

"Shut up," you told him. Katsuki was very surprised at your determined tone.

"I'm liking this already," Kirishima muttered behind Katsuki, grinning like the Chesire cat.

The silence between the four of you was something that was eating your bones. It wasn't awkward, but it was heavy. You told him to shut up, but you weren't talking either, and you knew it. All the speech that you practiced before vanishing from your mind.

"Are you-

"Are you going to love me already!?"

You spoke at the same time, but your message was clear. Mina was right, Katsuki stood like he was made of stone, rigid, stoic, not even a muscle moving from your confession.

You sounded desperate. You blamed your thoughts, your desire to go pee, that you were at least fifteen percent still drunk and that you were freezing. You wanted to get over this chapter in your life, you didn't want to fool around any longer and for that you needed to know if Katsuki was on the same page as you.

"Oh my god," Mina said, holding his face with both hands.

"Shh," Kirishima silenced her. "This is better than the ditch episode"

You could tell that the booze in your system worn off just by waiting for Katsuki's response. The tic tac in your intern clock made it impossible to bear the silence.

"Are you going to say something, or are you going to stay there forever?" You hurried him, trying to hide the anxious feeling that you felt coming out of your voice.

...

Kirishima kicked Bakugo's heavy boots to take him out of his trance. It worked.

You always said to him that you were half witch, at least, always feeling before it happened. He wandered if this was one of those situations.

"I'm-

It was the first time that he felt speechless. He knew you from head to toe, and now he noticed that you were under the effects of alcohol but sounded sure about it. The way that you let it out was some kind of outburst from the time he took to process what he really felt about you. He knew he treated you differently. He liked spending time with you, and he found himself checking his phone very often, looking for a message from you. He was whipped.

He saw your bottom lip quivering, and he knew he had to do something.

...

It happened quickly.

First, you throwing your feelings at him like it was a ball of fire, then his eternal silence, and after that, your guts twisting inside of you, your throat closing, your nose pricking and your bottom lip trembling.

It was over for your fantasies with him.

Was it the worst-case scenario? Yes. Will you be able to get over it? Absolutely. Will the healing process hurt? Like hell.

You were weighing your options when the sound of heavy boots against the carpeted floor woke you up from your suffering.

He was a mere inch from you. Your body and his body were separated by a thin layer of air. You could feel the air coming out from his nose, hitting your forehead. He was tall, and you were almost the size of a elf.

"Never call me out about what I already do"

That's everything that came out of his mouth before joining his lips with yours in a feverish kiss. He wasn't gentle, but the way that he grabbed you by both sides of your face made you float in your spot.

You didn't have the time to process what he said or why he said that, forgetting what you said first, but ignoring the cheerful sounds coming from your friends mouth, you could only concentrate in his mouth moving against yours. Finally.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

[weebsinstash]

Sitting here watching that clip of Valentino with that demon girl going "you're gorgeous! Do you need a job? 🥰" and started thinking of Val either intentionally or unintentionally making Reader feel massively insecure and ugly and Val using that to manipulate them

I've mentioned "oh what if your job is serving him drinks at his club" but what if he also starts dragging you along when he goes out like some kind of weird PA. Like he's just throwing random bills at you that he clearly isn't counting like it's pocket change in a very "yeah sure whatever just do it bitch" kind of way so you put up with it, it's good income, but it's still... WEIRD. He's going to get his antenna done at the salon, and you're like. Having to STAND THERE beside his chair, you're not even in the lobby waiting room, you've gotta be WITH HIM, and you just get all these windows into his cunty personality where he's spoiled and mean to service workers and is a total fucking diva and it's extremely off-putting I'm sure

He's in a night club hitting on people whose bodies are absolutely insane like I'm talking GYATT city, ass and titties, you've got twunks and you've got hunks, and you're like, in sneakers, off to the side, head down playing games on your phone since you can't even put earbuds in because you unfortunately have to keep an ear open since he'll order YOU to bring drinks, not just for him, but for these complete strangers who don't even work for him too, AND he'll let them be fucking mean to you. You bring some bubble butt twink who's on Val's arm the daiquiri he asked for and he gives you a very clear look up and down before laughing, cuddling up to Val, "yeah I can SEE you need new employees 😋" and they all laugh Including Fucking Valentino

I dunno, I'm on the fence. It really changes with the story. You get the yandere who are obsessive but more abusive-adjacent and then you have the more true-blooded kind that won't accept any slander of you at all. Like can you imagine Valentino's smile just dropping off his face because some chick like, tells you you have cellulite or even something MILD like your mascara is bad or idk what are, male insults.... you have a flat ass??? And Valentino just instantly shoves them away "okay you're done bye, let the door hit you on the way out 🤭"

But today we're talking about angst and feeling fucking miserable so. Over time it just, makes you feel so horrible about yourself to go to these nightclubs. It isn't even about fucking Valentino, it's about how you're sitting here watching everyone EXCEPT YOU receive all this fawning and compliments and attention, even if Val is faking some of it just to lure in more workers. You see a girl who has the perfect skin and you run fingers over an ice pick scar on your cheek, male reader sees a guy who's tall but muscular with nice facial hair and you feel your own baby face and smaller build, there are people thinner than you, curvier than you, stronger than you, smarter than you, and you watch all of them get called gorgeous and beautiful and handsome and sexy and you're just the fucking dweeb who gets teased, mocked, BULLIED

One night Valentino is sitting there talking to another girl, "oh my gosh, honey, I would TOTALLY do body shots off of you. Hey, can we get some shots over here? .... helllooooo, I SAID can we get some shots? ...bitch if you make me repeat myself again--" and he looks over and you're not even there. It's like ice. Suddenly without warning you're not there and he doesn't know what to do because you're ALWAYS there and whenever you're not it's because he LETS YOU leave??? Like??? He's immediately standing up even if it knocks away the people hanging off of him and he's looking around, "you BETTER be in the fucking bathroom--"

And over the crowd of people he sees you on the opposite end of the club, as if you were actively trying to put as much distance between you two as possible, and you're with a guy, some big furry monster boy, and you laugh with a big smile and Valentino GRINDS his teeth as he realizes it's been ages since you laughed around him, let alone at anything HE'S said, and you're actually drinking with this guy where you would always be way too stiff and cautious around Val (although he also really wouldn't let you drink anyways, being more of a waiter when you're 'on the clock')

Obsessed with the idea of Val making Reader carry around combs and brushes to comb his antenna/fur and Val sees you using them on another guy. like I think he'd go absolutely violently fucking crazy honestly because 1. Those are HIS and he is a bougie Gucci material man like those are high quality things being used on some RANDO 2. Those are for HIM, you're using them on someone ELSE 3. The person using them on someone else is YOU, YOU'RE brushing another man, YOU'RE cuddling another man like some kind of UNGRATEFUL WHORE--

When I say you suddenly look up and you're being GRABBED, HAULED UP to your feet by your arm, grip on you so tight it's ready to fucking bruise, and Val just shoots this guy in the head, like cartoonishly powerful gun just splatters the dudes head from what should have been just a single bullet hole I'm sure. You're like vaguely traumatized and trying to tell yourself the man will regenerate and be fine but now Valentino's got a gun in his hand and he's furious and you just start CRYING. He doesn't even CARE about the people he was flirting with anymore, if he has any employees in the club with him he doesn't even call out that it's time to go, he just starts DRAGGING YOU to the limo and will just LEAVE EVERYONE there because he's in such a rage, also, have you guys seen the posts where people point out there are moth squeaking effects when he speaks sometimes. So he's just fucking mad, voice cracking, shouting, squeaking, and i think it'd be funny if he spends like 15 minutes screaming about THE GUY while he has you like all but glued to his lap on the ride home and doesn't say a single thing about what you did. Just manic ranting on his phone as he HAS to call Vox, "oh my god you wouldn't FUCKING BELIEVE what this piece of shit did in front of me, the ugliest fucking guy I've ever seen was--" and you're like trembling wondering when he's going to pivot and realize like, you were also. Intentionally willingly sitting with that guy.

But he doesn't even like. Acknowledge it that way. He just keeps ranting about the guy touching something that doesn't belong to him, he's gotta replace all his fucking combs now, oh my GOD Vox like SERIOUSLY-- and then it's probably Vox that's like, with a disinterested voice, "sooooo.... WHICH whore did this happen to again???" And Valentino without hesitating just straight up says your name, "the nerdy one, you KNOW which one I'm talking about"

And that's when you just start to blubber cause you're tired and you're tipsy and you're mentally worn down, "oh OF COURSE I'm 'the nerdy one'!! You drag me all over the fucking place and I never get any time to myself and I have to WATCH everyone ELSE have fun, and when I finally find someone who calls ME cute, calls ME pretty, you fucking SHOOT HIM!" and you're just, face in your hands crying and you can't see it as Valentino GRINS like some fucking MONSTER because, "Aw, pobrecita, is that what this is about? You're lonely? ❤️w❤️"

And you're just mad and crying and pouting and you're telling him to go fuck himself and actually starting to get a little mouthy and have an attitude with him and he doesn't even care because how upset you're getting is going right to his head. even if you don't want to, you're jealous of him giving other people attention instead of you, and now he's watching you get all upset and sniffly over it and he's so full of himself, this makes him feel so powerful that he's reduced you to this insecure bawling state, and he's rubbing your shoulders, "awwww, don't cry mami, you should've told me you were wanting some 'attention'"

At this point you could be literally slapping his hands away but he's gonna keep pulling you close to him on purpose and NOW, now he's laying on all the fucking compliments, stroking the tops of your thighs. He knows exactly what scent you're using in your hair. Oh, you're wearing the nail polish you bought during one of your first months here; he's always liked this color on you. He's commenting and bringing up things you didn't expect him to notice let alone remember about you and... you're just so weak to it.... you're lonely... and he's here... and maybe it's the smoke or his cologne or what but he smells so good, he's so close, your head feels a little funny--

The rest of your night blurs together after that, but when you wake up, you're not at your place, or the studio, or anywhere you mildly recognize. You're in a bed way too big for someone your size, and you're especially not used to SOMEONE ELSE BEING IN IT WITH YOU. Val just has you caged in all of his arms and is passed out drooling in a post alcohol, post drug, post fuckathon coma, and you can FEEL in your muscles and in your body that you two were up to some wiiiiiild shit together.

IF you may manage to sneak out of V Tower without being stopped or caught, it won't make hin suddenly forget all the things you told him, or him now knowing how it feels to have your hands on his body, or how it looks to have your big sad wet eyes looking up at him and then sparkling with one of his compliments. Usually he WANTS bitches to be gone when he wakes up but, this time? When those eyes open and you're not there? Instantly feeling rejected, mad, irritated, he can't exactly identify why, he's just MAD you ran off without telling him and he's instantly blowing up your line to figure out where you are, and now you have become a recipient of The Voice-mails

"Heeeeeeey, baby, so, it's so funny but I just woke up and I can't find you in the tower? Did you run off to get breakfast somewhere? You KNOW you shouldn't run off without telling me first; I need you to come on back here ❤️"

"-- so answer your phone you fucking SLUT!! You better not be with another fucking guy, or I swear to fucking GOD--"

"--It just stresses me out that there are so many different kinds of people down here, I worry someone might hurt you, amorcito. I can't help protect you if I'm not there, soooooo, why don't you just, tell me where you are--"

"Is this fucking funny for you, you cunt?! You get all worked up about how PATHETIC AND SAD you are and then leave me? Leave ME? ME?! You're LUCKY i even TOUCHED YOU AT ALL--"

"Heeeeeeey, oh my gosh so this is so funny ummmm, Vox just let me know that Velvette borrowed you for something, soooooooooo, please don't listen to any of those other voicemails, ok? You know how CRAZY you make me, right? Don't forget you have a shift tonight, and if you even think about not showing up, I have some hellhounds that know your scent already and they'll drag you back here by your hair, sooooo, see you later love you byeeeeee ❤️"

[ameliathornromance]

It was strange for your Orc Boyfriend not to pick up his phone.

He was normally available at all hours of the day. Usually, you’d never call him unless absolutely necessary - the last thing you wanted was to be one of those overbearing girlfriends.

At the start of your relationship, everything was amazing. 

Every time you met up at the end of the week for a date, he always brought a freshly cut bouquet of flowers paired with a broad smile across his usually intimidating face.

After the six month mark of being together, he suggested that you move in with him and you gladly accepted the invitation.

It was nice to come home to a partner, who greeted you with open arms, a kiss on the cheek and an, “hi honey, how was your day?”

But the past few weeks had become… strange.

It was the change in the air when you woke up, the way that whenever you tried to display any kind of physical affection, your Orc would shrug you off, grunt in annoyance.

It was fine the first few times - sometimes people just aren’t in the mood for that kind of thing. But the tense air never left your flat, and your boyfriend’s company became less and less frequent in the evenings.

Maybe he just needed some time alone, you’d reasoned. Even you needed alone time, and since you both now shared a living space, that became more important than ever. 

You knew you shouldn’t place a timer on these things, however the need for his ‘time alone’ became longer and longer. So, you asked him when he got back from work if you’d done something wrong.

You had already searched your mind for things that you might have done to annoy him, but nothing came to mind.

He just gave the same, nonchalant grunt, “no. Why would you think you’d done something wrong?”

Well, if it wasn’t you, then maybe it was work? He had been staying out in the evenings more often. 

That was your follow up question, to which he also replied, “no. What makes you think that?” After which, he gave you a glower and stalked to your shared room.

Not wanting to start anything, you’d just left it at that. 

As Boys Night went on, you began to bite at your fingernails, staring at your phone on your coffee table.

The screen was black, blank. What were you watching it for? A call? A message? A DM from him?

Usually, your Orc would text you when he was on his way back home or would let you know that he and his friends were going to be staying out later than initially planned.

As the evening got later and later, you knew something was wrong. Picking up your phone, you dialled your boyfriend’s number.

Nails still in your mouth as the dial tone went on, once, twice, three, four- 

“I’m sorry,” the robotic voice said from the other end of the line, “but the person you’re trying to reach-“ you hung up the phone and tried again.

This time it went straight to voicemail.

You flinched, frowning at your phone. Did he intentionally hang up on you?

Not being able to stand the lack of communication any longer, you tracked his phone to a club called ‘Eden’, picked up your coat and keys, and left your flat.

There had to be an explanation for this, there had to be. You’d get to the club, and find your Orc absolutely hammered. 

Your heart ached at the image of his face lighting up at seeing you… the way it used to when you were first seeing each other. 

You wished he’d look at you like that again.

Sucking in deep breaths, you drove to the club and found the line outside it to be relatively small.

After waiting in line for what seemed like an eternity, you were let in and greeted by the thudding music, sweaty clubbers dancing and swaying to the beat.

Navigating through them, you looked down at your phone, which guided you to the bar, where you stopped dead in your tracks.

A smile you hadn’t seen for weeks, was plastered on your Orc Boyfriends face as his arm was slung around a human woman, glitter decorating her cheeks, dark hair and revealing outfit on, hand on your boyfriends chest, her eyes half-lidded and looking at him as if he was the most attractive Orc in the room.

They chatted animatedly, your Orc getting closer, and closer to her face, as if he was going to kiss her.

It took a moment for the both of them to notice you, but when your Orc did, his face fell.

You were too stunned to say anything, and so you turned and walked straight back to the exit.

The night's cold air stung your cheeks as you freed yourself from the humidity of the club atmosphere, eyes stinging with hot tears.

You bit your lip, trying to fight them back as you heard your boyfriend's voice behind you. “Love, what are you-”

“Don’t you ‘love’ me!” You spat at him. Wheeling around on your heel, you glowered at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I was worried sick about you, and here you are, chatting up some woman at a club!”

Your Orc flinched at your harsh words, as if the accusation was completely and utterly false. 

He recovered quickly however, his usual glower returning. “You aren’t even supposed to be here,” he growled, jabbing a finger at you. “It’s Boys night, the one night of the week I get to have time to myself!” 

“Really?!” You shrieked. “Because it seems as though every night of the week you ‘have to yourself’!” 

“Yeah and maybe I need that time to myself, because I have such a clingy girlfriend at my side all the fucking time!” He snapped back at you. 

You recoiled at the harsh words. Staring at him, you searched his face for any kind of regret for what he just said. 

But his tirade continued, “‘have I done anything wrong?’” He imitated you, “‘you’re not mad at me are you?’ ‘If there’s something wrong you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?’ I’m fucking sick of it!” 

The tears rolled down your cheeks as the Orc opposite you rubbed his face with his palms, frustratedly, letting out an irritated sigh.

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracked, “that I wanted to make sure my boyfriend was okay. I was only asking, because you’d been pulling away from me,” wiping the tears from your face, you raised your own voice, “I’m still trying to make this work, because I love you!” 

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t?” The Orc snapped back.

“Then why did you ask me to move in with you?!” 

“Because I didn’t think you were going to be this annoying!”

It was like your already fragile, glass heart had been shattered.

What happened to that friendly, loving Orc you’d first met? The one who played with your hair when you first woke up in the morning? The one who would bring home gifts and say, “I saw this and thought of you.”

A wave of clarity hit you, like calm waters after a chaotic storm at sea: this Orc never loved you - at least, not in the way you did.

It surprised you how steady your voice was when you spoke, “fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go and get my stuff.” Turning on your heel, you walked back to your car, parked just across the street from the club.

For a moment, the Orc didn’t say anything, but still followed after you. “(Y/N), come on I didn’t-” His voice came out soft, weak.

“No,” you opened the car door, looking back at your now ex-boyfriend, “no, it’s fine, I’ll gather my stuff up and I’ll never annoy you again.” 

And with that, you got into the car and drove off, away from Eden.

Away from your Orc.

Patreon - I now have a 7 Day Free Trial enabled! Come have a look at what I've been writing recently!

[peachdues]

thinking of modern!Sanemi, out at the club with his friends, watching them get all the attention and thinking no one will approach him — until you.

And when you start hitting on him, he thinks it’s a joke because he’s big and scary looking, and how could anyone find him attractive? Especially someone as cute (and as beautiful) as you?

So he brushes you off, and even gets a little rude about it, because really, you shouldn’t be doing this — making a joke of him. But when he makes to leave and you grab him by his bicep to stop him, his jaw nearly drops because you can’t possibly be serious. But there you are, looking at him like you’ve found the sun in this dingy, dark club, and you’re leading him by the hand to the exit, a coy my place or yours? dripping like honey from your lips.

And as you let him lead you back to his apartment, Sanemi thinks he might just follow you anywhere.

[s-awturn]

Day Off || F1 Grid

cw: nothing but superficiality, cuteness, intimate but not obscene moments, sharing moments, mention of gossip. Just pilots resting

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1

a/n: I had this written a couple of days ago, but Tumblr just "ate" the only file I had and I lost everything. I was so mad I didn't even want to write anymore, but damn, This is too good a HC to waste, so okay, let's try again (remembering to save periodically this time 🫡

LEWIS HAMILTON:

You and Lewis had created a reading list to complete throughout the year, you bet there were about a hundred books on the list, titles ranging from classic literature, biographies, poems, and contemporary literature. Books that you and Lewis wanted to read together or the books you thought the other should read.

So it was common for the two of you to spend the pilot's day off reading in bed while listening to blues or jazz on the speakers. You read together, wrote reviews of the books you read and discussed them.

He was reading Percy Jackson and the Mark of Athena and you were reading Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

"So? What did you think?" He asked, marking the page he was on, Lewis had just started the last chapter and you had already finished reading.

"He does go through a metamorphosis and it's extremely unpleasant to imagine, but I've read more unpleasant books," you confessed, putting the book on the bedside table. "Four stars, and you?"

He snorted "Piper is so boring, damn she only knows how to think about Jason and how she doesn't like being the daughter of Aphrodite, so boring"

"God, yes! I don't like her either... Anyway, I'll wait for you to finish, and then we can choose the next one."

"Sure, honey," he kissed her temple and returned to reading just as Etta James began to sing "At Last." You settled into it, petting Roscoe as he lay beside you. This is the best way to enjoy your day off.

CARLOS SAINZ:

Carlos was at a stage where he wanted you to learn golf to play with him, after all the sport was a tradition for him and the Spaniard wanted you to be part of it, but you were terrible. You were really bad at golf, but that didn't make he want to teach you any less.

And well, you didn't like golf either, you didn't understand the sport, the scoring was weird, there were at least half a dozen different clubs and you couldn't even cheer.

But at least the clothes were cute and the cars were cool.

"Let's go, amor, I'll teach you," he said, going to pick you up in the golf cart. Lando, who was accompanying them this time, leaned his body on the golf club, waiting.

"Carlos, I'm terrible at this, you know," you grumbled, taking the bat he offered you. Carlos was a persevering man, you had to admit. He stood behind you, teaching you again how to perform the shot, instructing you to separate your legs and take a deep breath.

"I bet you five bucks she'll throw the ball in the lake"

"Shut up, Lando," you both said.

You followed his instructions and hit the ball...

...that fell into the lake.

"I knew"

"Shut up, Lando"

CHARLES LECLERC:

A day off for Charles meant you would get to visit his favorite spots, from a famous restaurant to a little coffee shop tucked away in a city alley. Sometimes he would take you to the south of France to see some chateau, other times he would just rent a chalet for you to be together in privacy, and you had lost count of how many times they had gone to Italy to see the vineyards and villas on the border with Monaco.

This time, you were preparing for a slightly longer itinerary, you had suggested visiting the Grace Kelly exhibit before heading to the cottage he had rented for the weekend.

"Got everything you need, mon cher?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist in a sweet hug.

"It depends, I know we're going to see the Grace Kelly exhibit, but I have no idea where we're going after, you say a cottage and I don't know whether to bring a bikini or coats" you mumbled, looking at her handbag.

"Take both just in case, you know spring can have unpredictable weather"

"Are you saying that so you don't give me a hint about where we're going?" You turned in his arms, facing the pilot. "That's not fair."

"You'll like it, mon ange, I promise"

"At least tell me if it's still in Monaco..." You tried to persuade him, sliding your nails lovingly along his chin, making the Monegasque shiver and let out a heavy breath.

"You're not taking me to the siren song, pretty girl." He gave you a quick kiss and a light slap on your ass before leaving. "We'll leave in fifteen minutes."

LANDO NORRIS:

Lando's downtime with you was spent playing games, you thought it was counterproductive to fuel his competitiveness when he should have been resting, but this routine of games with you made him much calmer and more relaxed when he returned to work. Ironic? Yes, but it worked.

You two played anything, Monopoly, Naval Battle, Game of Life, Detective, W.A.R, Uno, even checkers or cards. Any game was fair game.

The problem is that you got really competitive, your friends even gave up trying to play with you because the game turned into a battlefield.

"You lowlife cheater, did you really throw a +4 at your fiancée?!" You yelled at him, Lando laughed and blew you a kiss before dodging the pillow you threw at him.

"You know how things work, honey. Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you beat me."

"This will come back!" You bought the four cards he forced you to. "I really hate you."

"And you are the love of my life"

"Die, you jerk," you snapped and he laughed.

Lando could feel all the tension leaving his shoulders, playing with you always made him relax, no matter how aggressive and passionate you became in the game.

OSCAR PIASTRI:

Considering that Oscar was always traveling and there were few really usable pages in his schedule, any time the two of you could have together should be taken full advantage of, and For both of them, there's nothing better than an afternoon of movies.

You two had created a list of movies on Letterboxd and the chosen one of the day would be Interstellar.

Oscar was making popcorn while you were arranging the blankets and pillows on the couch, so what if it was the height of summer in Australia? There in the apartment, the air conditioning was hovering below fifteen degrees, keeping the room at a favorable climate for you and your boyfriend to cuddle while watching astronauts lost in space.

"I thought you were going to choose Anatomy of a Fall," he muttered, placing the food on the coffee table, popcorn with cheese, assorted snacks, chocolates and ice cream and of course, lemon soda.

"I was dubious, but you know I love any movie that has Matthew McConaughey in it," you said, getting under the covers, accompanied by Oscar, "and of course, The movie's soundtrack is perfect, I use it to study..."

"Have you watched it?"

"No, I was waiting for you, but I discovered the playlist... I'll send you the link, you'll love it"

He hummed in agreement and you pressed play on the movie, Many times you paused the film to comment on something or express your theories. It made the movie session better, Oscar didn't mind listening to you talk about it and you loved his theories.

It was, without a doubt, the best way to enjoy the break.

MAX VERSTAPPEN:

He would rather be playing, sleeping or, I don't know, watering the plants, but you always dragged him to a skin care session. You spread different creams on his face, plucked some extra hairs from his eyebrows, trimmed his beard.

As much as he denied it, Max learned to enjoy it, being taken care of by you was one of his guilty pleasures. And it all got better when you started gossiping without any trace of shame. He talked about what went on behind the scenes in F1 and you shared news about work and your condominium.

"I'm still sad that Logan was let go, he had a lot of future," you said, sliding the massage stone across his face, spreading the serum into his skin.

"He's a good kid, unfortunately he wasn't ready for Formula One yet, he came in too early and couldn't adapt well... I hope he can find his place" he grumbled, sighing at the gentle massage on his cheekbones.

"Yes... Williams was very ungrateful to him and I won't elaborate on that" you said a little bitterly and Max laughed, you always positioned yourself as a defender of the poor and oppressed.

"Yes... I won't elaborate on that either... It's better"

You both were silent until you clicked your tongue.

"Uh, I almost forgot to tell you, last week there was a horrible fight at the condominium meeting.

He opened his curious eyes "You can tell me everything, dear"

"The neighbor at 1165 caught her husband with the building manager and the building manager's husband in her bed"

"What the fuck?! Are you kidding?!"

You laughed, putting away the massage stone and sliding your fingers firmly over Max's face "you had to see it, she put together a PowerPoint with photos and screenshots of the conversations"

Max laughed out loud "damn, I wish I had seen..."

"It was a real fight, they argued and everything, it was really fun to watch"

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"I will definitely go to the next condo meeting"

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[scary-grace]

blind date (shigaraki x reader)

After endless failed attempts to help Tomura up his game, his friends have settled on their last resort: A blind date. Even before you show up, it's not going well. No quirks AU, 2k words.

this was originally in the x reader lovers community, but I figured I'd release it into the wild as well!

Part 1 Part 2

Part 1

Tomura gets being a little late. “A little late” is practically his middle name. He waits until the last minute to do almost everything, and that means any complications mean he’s running behind. Hypocrisy pisses him off so much that he tries to avoid it all costs, so that means he has to put up with it without bitching when somebody else is a little late, too.

Except half an hour isn’t a just a little late for anything, let alone a blind date Tomura didn’t want to go on in the first place. He’s been waiting outside the bar you were supposed to meet at for half an hour, and he’s pissed.

“That’s it,” he says after the eighteenth time a woman his age has walked past and hasn’t been you, whatever the hell you look like. “I’m out of here.”

“Just a little longer, honey,” Magne says. She’s smiling, but she’s also got her arm around Tomura’s shoulders, and if she squeezes any harder, Tomura’s going to pop like a balloon. “She’ll be here.”

“No, she won’t.” Tomura crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in so nothing will bite them. They’re on the waterfront, in the summer, and there are insects everywhere. Whose dumb idea was this? “You showed her a photo of me and she changed her mind.”

“It’s a blind date,” Magne says. Like Tomura’s supposed to know what that means. “She doesn’t know what you look like, either. That’s why you have to stay right here and keep wearing that baseball hat. Otherwise she won’t know it’s you.”

Tomura hates the hat. Right now he hates everything. “So she got here on time, saw me, and left. Can I go?”

Magne shakes her head. “You promised you’d try.”

“I showed up. I waited for fucking half an hour. I’ve tried.” Tomura finally shoves Magne’s arm off his shoulders. “I’m done.”

Tomura wishes he could say he didn’t know how he got here, except he does. One of his friends is getting married, and there’s supposed to be a wild bachelor weekend in Vegas, one last blast of stupid before settling down. Most of the groomsmen are planning to hook up with as many people as possible, and that’s where the problems start. According to his friends, Tomura has no game. Zero game. Negative one hundred game. If he was rolling for his game stat, it would be a critical failure – and none of his friends want to babysit him when they could be getting laid.

Tomura wouldn’t want to babysit when he could be getting laid, either. His solution was to skip the bachelor weekend and just show up for the wedding in his stupid rented suit. But apparently his friends really want him to come to the party, and they decided that what he needed was to get some practice in before the trip. Which means that for the last month, Tomura’s spent every Friday night and weekend getting dragged through his own personal hell.

They made him try dating apps, which were a disaster, even though Tomura let Toga set up his profile and make the first move. Then they tried traditional online dating, which also sucked, because Tomura’s too picky and other people have standards. Hanging out in bars and clubs worked exactly how it’s always worked – it doesn’t – and when Dabi pulled out the big guns and dragged Tomura to the sex club where he met his fiancé, the only people who talked to Tomura were guys. Tomura thought that was sort of a good sign, even though he’s not into men, until he remembered that guys will fuck anything with a hole in it. He’s not high on himself on his best day, but that was a really shitty night.

He thought they were going to quit after that, but his friends had one last ace up their sleeve – a blind date, Magne’s idea, which Toga enthusiastically signed off on when she saw a picture of the woman Magne wanted to set Tomura up with. Toga’s type and Tomura’s type line up, sort of, and Spinner giving the photo two thumbs way up sealed the deal.

It’s not like Tomura was hopeful or anything. He just wanted to get his friends off his back. Still, rejection sucks, and ghosting sucks worse. He’d rather have you show up and tell him to his face that you weren’t interested than stand him up.

Magne collars Tomura again, but her phone starts ringing at the same time, Toga’s contact info popping up. “Don’t go anywhere,” she warns Tomura as she raises the phone to her ear. “We’re here. She’s not here yet. Can you tell him –”

Tomura ducks out from under her arm and books it into the crowd of people on the waterfront, figuring he can make it to the metro stop before Magne figures out which way he’s going. But even that can’t go his way today, because he runs into somebody who’s moving at warp speed in the opposite direction, colliding at the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. Tomura’s not confrontational, but it’s the wrong fucking day. “Can you watch where you’re going? It’s not like you matter to whoever you’re going to –”

“Are you Tomura?”

Tomura’s heart lurches. He stares hard at you as you right yourself, picking up the backpack you dropped in the collision. There’s no way this is happening. There’s no universe in which his blind date would be someone like you.

He can see right away why Toga and Spinner approved of you, but he thought you’d be someone in his league, not somebody who’s several kilometers above it. Maybe Tomura’s too excited that you actually showed up to evaluate what you actually look like. He looks away, then looks back. Nope – you’re still pretty, even though your face is flushed and you’re breathing hard like you’ve just been running. Did you run here to meet him? Only one way to find out. “I’m Tomura.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “My boss held me back at work, and I missed my train –”

You’re wearing some kind of work uniform. Scrubs, maybe. Are you a nurse? “And then I couldn’t decide whether to wait for another train or just run, so I ran – but I don’t really run, so it took even longer –”

Tomura doesn’t run, either. When he was doing the stupid online dating thing, he sorted out everybody who said more than one sentence about working out. You pause to suck down a breath, then keep talking. “I know everything I just said sounds like an excuse, and I know you’re leaving,” you say, “but I was hoping I could catch you so I could say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand you up. I get it if you want to call it off.”

Before Tomura can answer or even think about what he’s going to say, Magne bursts out of the crowd. “I told you not to run off,” she scolds, collaring Tomura again. “If you don’t stay put, there’s no way she’s going to – oh! You’re here!”

You nod. Magne looks you up and down. “I told you to dress cute,” she scolds. “And to get here on time. I practically had to chain him to a streetlight so he wouldn’t escape.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. “My boss –”

“Of course,” Magne says, scowling. “He’s never met a good time he doesn’t want to ruin.”

Magne knows who your boss is? “How do you to know each other?”

“She’s a pharmacy tech at the place I go to pick up my E,” Magne says. “She’s the only one who works there who isn’t an asshole, and her boss is the biggest asshole of them all. I only go in there when she’s on and he’s off. But let me introduce you the right way. Shigaraki, this is – ”

Tomura misses your name the first time Magne says it, catches it the second time, but it barely registers except as something he probably shouldn’t forget. You’re pretty. You’re not an asshole, or at least you’re the same kind of asshole as Magne and everybody else Magne’s friends with, including Tomura. Your boss is the wrong kind of asshole, which means you probably didn’t blow Tomura off on purpose. And you ran here so you could meet him even when you knew you were really late. You must have really wanted to meet Tomura. What did Magne tell you about him?

Tomura can ask you about that later. “So?” Magne is saying expectantly. “Can I leave you two alone, or are you going to run away again?”

“No,” Tomura says. “You can go.”

You look surprised. “Um –”

“Now.”

Magne cackles. She snatches the hat off Tomura’s head, ruffles his hair, and slaps him on the back hard enough that he staggers. “Have fun! I want all the details later!”

“Sure,” you say, bewildered, as she kisses you on the cheek. Tomura’s going to have to talk to you about that – any details you share with Magne will be fair game for the rest of Tomura’s friends, and he’s not sure how much he wants them to know. “Um, bye.”

Magne waves and vanishes into the crowd. Now it’s just you and Tomura standing on the sidewalk. You shuffle off to one side, out of the way, and Tomura follows you. “Are you sure you still want to do this?” you ask once you’re both leaning against the railing. “I get it if you’re not in the mood. When I’ve gotten stood up, I haven’t wanted to –”

“You’ve never been stood up in your life,” Tomura says, and your expression changes from confused to offended. “Look at you.”

You look down at yourself, then back up at him. “What does that mean?”

“I didn’t know anything about you and I got here on time. If I knew what you looked like beforehand I’d have been two hours early.” It sounded like a compliment in Tomura’s head, but he can’t tell if you’re taking it that way. “People like you don’t get stood up for dates.”

“I wish that were true,” you say. You look away. “I know how it feels. I get it if you don’t want to go out anymore.”

Tomura pretends he’s thinking about it. “How far did you run to get here?”

“Sixteen blocks.”

“You ran sixteen blocks to meet me. That cancels out being late,” Tomura says. You look up, surprised for a second or two before the relief kicks in. “I still want to go out.”

“Me, too,” you say. You smile at him. Women don’t usually smile at Tomura. People don’t usually smile at Tomura. He doesn’t know what to do with it. “Thanks, Tomura. For giving me a chance.”

“Yeah,” Tomura says. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. “It’s been a while since I went on a date.”

“Same,” Tomura says. ‘Never’ counts as a while in his book. “I don’t know – grab drinks or something?”

You nod. “Can we find somewhere to sit down for a second first? I don’t usually run that much, and I don’t want to pass out on you.”

“You can pass out on me if you want,” Tomura says. You blink. Tomura facepalms even though you’re looking right at him. “There are benches back there.”

The crowd on the sidewalk is only getting denser. Tomura doesn’t want to get separated from you, so he tells you to hold onto the back of his shirt. You grab his hand instead, and you’re still holding it when the two of you find a place to sit down. Still holding it once you’re both settled, searching for something to talk about. Tomura’s not optimistic about this. You’re too good to be true – the kind of woman who’d run sixteen blocks to meet him and hold his hand is a kind of woman who doesn’t exist. Even so, it’s – nice. Tomura laces his fingers with yours and decides to enjoy it while it lasts.

[adrienneleclerc]

Surprise

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Oscar surprises his girlfriend with a puppy after hearing some bad news

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: this is my first Oscar Piastri fanfic

Y/N moved to England from New York when she got accepted into Oxford. In one of her Oxford days, she met Oscar Piastri at a club in London, they have been dating ever since. Currently, Y/N has a paid internship with Stella McCartney but has weekends off to join Oscar if it’s close/reasonable. Y/N got home to their shared apartment and was putting her bag away when she got a phone call from her mom. She answered it.

“Hola mami, cómo estás?” Y/N asked. Hi mom, how are you

“No ando bien, princesa.” Her mom answered. I’m not doing well, princess

“Mami, que tienes, has estado llorando?” Y/N asked. What’s wrong, have you been crying?

“Ay mija, no sé cómo contarte pero Daisy murió.” Her mom said and Y/N covered her mouth to stop the sobs from coming out. She had tears on her eyes and she sat down on the couch. Oh honey, I don’t know how to tell you this but Daisy died

“No no no, no puede ser, les visité hace dos meses, Daisy estaba bien, estaba muy cariñosa conmigo, no puede estar muerta.” Y/N said. That can’t be, I visited you guys 2 months ago, Daisy was fine, she was very cuddly with me, she can’t be dead

“Lo siento, amor, pero Daisy ya estaba viejita, ha estado contigo desde que tenías 8 años.” Her mom said. I’m sorry, love, but sissy was old, she’s been with you since you were 8 years old

“Bueno, y cómo está papi?” Y/N asked. Alright then, how’s dad?

“Igual que yo. Luego te hablo, amor, me tengo que ir a dormir, bye.” Her mom said hanging up the phone and that’s when Y/N let herself sob into one of the couch pillows. She didn’t even noticed Oscar coming in. Just like me. I’ll talk to you soon, love, I have to go to sleep

“Hey, darling, I brought back your favorite takeout.” Oscar said leaving the bag of food on the kitchen counter but he noticed Y/N was crying. “Hey, feeling, what happened?” Oscar said sitting next to Y/N on the couch. Y/N picked her head up and wiped her years before looking at Oscar.

“My childhood dog died.” Y/N said, her voice raw from crying.

“Daisy? It was a yorkie, right?” Oscar asked, remembering visiting her parents during his winter break and the photos she has shown him.

“Yes, she was so cute, I loved her so much, she would follow me everywhere and she was the best part when I would visit my parents back home.” Y/N said, she started tearing up again so Oscar hugged her, rubbing her back

“Let it out, sweetheart, you’ll be okay, I know you will.” Oscar said.

The past few days, Y/N has been kind of out of it. Yes, she would go to work and do really well but it was like she was on autopilot. She would make food for her and Oscar, eat, then rot in bed until she had to do something. Oscar couldn’t stand seeing her like this, especially know he has a triple header, meaning he’ll be leaving her alone for 3 weeks.

“Darling, are you sure you can’t use your vacation days to come with me?” Oscar asked. “How about I pay for your tickets to come Saturday and Sunday?”

“Oscar, that’s too much money, I’ll probably only go to the Silverstone track since it’s easier.” Y/N said. “I’ll be fine, I promise”

“I want you, no, I NEED you to call me everyday, before you go to work, when you come home, before you go to sleep, and any time in between.” Oscar said.

“You’re insane, but I love you so much, tiburóncin.” Y/N said, kissing him.

“I love you too.” Oscar said, kissing her back

Oscar was on the plane with Lando and he knew something was wrong.

“What happened, mate?” Lando asked

“Nothing, just Y/N.” Oscar answered

“Ah, trouble in paradise?” Lando asked

“No, her dog died.” Oscar said

“Aw, poor Y/N. Wait, you had a dog this whole time and I never saw it?” Lando asked

“No, you muppet, her childhood dog died.” Oscar said.

“Oh…so how’s Y/N taking it?” Lando asked

“Not well. She just works, eats, and sleeps, as soon as she comes home from work, she makes food and goes lay down, she doesn’t eat until later. I’m worried about her.” Oscar said.

“But it’s only been a few days, I’m sure she’ll get better.” Lando said.

“What if I got her another dog?” Oscar asked

“Aw, you’re such a romantic, Osc.” Lando teased.

“Shut up.” Oscar said.

“Well do you know what kind of dog she likes?” Lando asked

“Well Daisy was a yorkie, I know she likes them, but there’s another breed of dog she likes. What breed is Lady from Lady and the Tramp?” Oscar asked.

“It’s a cavalier King Charles spaniel.” Lando answered and Oscar stared at him. “What? I know my dog breeds.”

“I’ll start looking for places when we land.” Oscar said.

While they were in Spain, Oscar was calling pet stores and breeders he found online from Spain, Austria, and England but there was no luck.

“You found your girlfriend’s dream dog yet?” Lando asked, unpacking his luggage.

“No, all the stores I found online don’t have that breed of dog, they don’t even have yorkies, aren’t they supposed to be a popular breed?” Oscar asked

“Exactly, it’s a popular breed, they get bought quickly.” Lando said.

“Ugh, it’s no use, and no one I know has spaniel puppies.” Oscar said, sighing. Suddenly he remembered his neighbor mentioning something about her dog giving birth so he called her.

“Hello, Areida, how is your dog?” Oscar asked.

“Hey Oscar, Polly is fine, I’m just having trouble rehoming her puppies.” Areida said.

“I was actually wondering if I could have one, they’re the King Charles dog, right?” Oscar asked.

“Yes, they are, and I would gladly, give you one, come over when you’re back in Woking so you could pick out a dog.” Areida said

“Thank you so much!”

“No problem.” Areida hung up and Oscar was smiling.

“Im guessing you have a puppy.” Lando said.

“I have a puppy!” Oscar says with his hands in the air in celebration.

During the triple header, Oscar has been researching about the dog breed and how to socialize puppies since he has never had a pet of his own. He has also been talking to Areida the puppies, how far along are they, if there was a Ruby colored one, the works. Now it was time for the silverstone Grand Prix, despite it being an hour and a half away from their apartment in Woking, Y/N managed to drive all the way there to support her boyfriend. Of course, the distance was nothing for the American girl. So Y/N attended FP3, qualifying, and of course the Grand Prix, after the race, Y/N drove Oscar back home with her. Well, Oscar drove, it was a rule that she’ll always be passenger princess as long as he’s around.

“How’re you holding up, darling?” Oscar asked

“I feel better, I talked to my mom, she’s doing alright, same with my dad, my brother is better too.” Y/N responded.

“That’s good, have you been getting some sun?” Oscar asked.

“Tiburóncin, it’s England,.” Y/N answered and Oscar laughed “but yes, I’ve been going outside.”

The car ride was full of conversation but Y/N slept the last half hour of the car ride. They entered the apartment and had a lovely dinner together. The next day is where Oscar’s plan begins now that Y/N was at work. He called Areida during his workout to see when it’s a good time to pick up the puppy and she said that 12 should be good. After his workout, he showered, and as soon as it hit 12, he knocked on Areida’s door.

“Oscar, who knew you were so punctual. Come in, the puppies are in the living room.” Areida said. Oscar walked into the apartment and spotted the doggy gate caging 5 little cavalier King Charles spaniel puppies. Oscar cooed at the sight of them

They are adorable, I don’t know how you’re having trouble rehoming them.” Oscar said, he spotted the Ruby colored puppy, she looked so small. “Is that’s the youngest one?”

“Yeah, she’s the runt. And I’m picky with the selection process, okay? I’m not giving these puppies away to parents who want them as gifts for their children, a lot of dogs end up in shelters that way.” Areida said.

“That’s true. Can i pick her up?” Oscar asked.

“If she’s the one you’re taking, yes.” Areida said. Oscar carefully picked up the Ruby runt, stroking her fur and she leaned into his touch.

“Hello, Lady, You’re a surprise for my girlfriend.” Oscar said.

“Do you have everything you need?” Areida asked.

“I looked up a lot about this breed, I ordered all the stuff, I’m just going to pick it up.” Oscar said.

“Alright, i trust you.” Areida said.

“Do I pay you?” Oscar asked.

“I believe two months rent is fair considering your job.” Areida said. Oscar playfully rolled his eyes.

“Consider your rent paid.” Oscar said. He left Areida’s apartment to go to his car down in the garage.

He had Lady in his lap the entire drive, took about 15 minutes to go to the pet store and pick up everything, he set up her dog bed in the passenger seat so she can ride comfortably, he has her collar that he had made to be an exact replica like the collar in the movie, starter chew toys (like on of each kind to see what toys Lady likes), pee pads, leash and harness, and of course her food and water bowl and actual food. He made it to the apartment and set up everything. Since Lady is not vaccinated, she’s on the couch while Oscar vacuums and mops the floor. When he’s done, he sets Lady on the floor along with the lee pads so she can get acclimated with her new environment. Lady is smelling everything, wagging her tail, she looks very happy. She stopped to play with one of her toys. But he noticed Lady’s tail wagging even more and that’s when he heard the keys, Y/N is coming. The door opened and the first thing Y/N sees is a little fluffy thing walking up to her. Y/N coos and starts petting her.

“Oh hello, pero que cosa tan linda, are we pet sitting for Areida?” Y/N asked.

“No, actually, this is Lady, your new puppy.” Oscar said. Y/N stood up and hugged Oscar.

“I can’t believe it, she’s so cute, why did you get her?” Y/N asked.

“Well i couldn’t stand seeing my girl so upset and I remembered that you told me you always wanted a dog like Lady and now you have your very own Lady.” Oscar said, picking Lady up to make a point.

“You are the best boyfriend ever, I love you.” Y/N said, kissing him. “Aw, you’re going to be more spoiled than a Beverly Hills Chihuahua, let me tell you.” Y/N said, petting Lady and letting her lick her fingers. “How old is she?”

“About 9 weeks. We still have to get her vaccinated so for the mean time, we gotta carry her outside.” Oscar said,

“That’s fine by me, that way she’ll get used to everything.” Y/N said and Oscar out Laday down. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Oscar said, kissing her.

Liked by yourusername and 752,917 others

oscarpiastri welcome the newest member of our little family, Lady.

View 38,928 comments

yourusername she’s absolutely adorable! I love her so much, thank you, tiburóncin 😘

charlesleclerc if you lived in Monaco, we could have play dates

landonorris just like the movie

logansargeant so cute! I gotta meet her, man

user37 sorry, Leo Leclerc, but Lady Piastri has stolen my heart 😍😍

The End

Hope y’all liked it! Now that I have published a Lando Norris fanfic, a Logan Sargeant fic, and now an Oscar Piastri fic, do y’all like them enough for me to write more?

[soapsbaby]

Take the hint

Summary: The CoD guys and Valeria's reaction to you being hit on at a club.

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, König, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: SFW Word count: 800ish

Ghost

He gets jealous really easily, he doesn’t like sharing you at all. Still, usually he’ll just stand somewhere where he can see you well, arms crossed in front of his chest and waiting for you to reject the person.

The moment you’re with him again he’ll have an arm tightly around you, pulling you as closely to him as he can, proving to himself that he is the only one who gets to do this with you.

If the person is too persistent he will go into guard dog mode. He would absolutely break someone’s bones for you.

Soap

He gets jealous too, but he always tries his very best to not show it. He knows in his core that he is your one and only and would never betray him so he will just push the feeling down and look forward to you being back by his side.

He will absolutely make fun of the other person once it’s just the two of you, can’t believe a guy like that thinks he could get with you… So delusional, hm? 

König

He doesn’t really go out much in the first place and when he does, he is pretty much attached to you at the waist and no one dares hit on you when you are with that mountain of a man.

If it does happen, because you went to quickly grab a drink or went to the bathroom, he will start spiraling quickly. He already has a lot of anxiety about you leaving him and the moment he sees you speaking with someone else his alarm bells go off, that it’s finally happening and he won’t be the one you’ll go home with today.

He wants to intervene, but he doesn’t dare to, he can just watch, but he feels better immediately when you finally get rid of the other person, rolling your eyes and giving König a bright grin, mouthing “what a weirdo” towards him and immediately get on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. 

He’ll make sure to not let go of your hand for the rest of the night and be as affectionate as possible. 

Price

He’s super relaxed about it, just standing in the corner sipping his beer and waiting for you to deal with it. He finds it incredibly attractive how well you handle yourself.

He also takes it as a compliment that other people find you that attractive, but of course he is the one you ultimately go back home with.

Can’t blame them, honey. You look out of this world.

Gaz

He tries to not let it bother him, but it always does. He is always afraid you’ll leave him and he has had some bad experiences in the past with other people that sensitized him to it.

You know about that so you always make sure to shut down the other person as quickly as possible to get back to his side again.

You can tell that he is unhappy when you come back but once you pull him in for a kiss, still in view of the person who hit on you, he feels better immediately. 

Valeria

The types of places she takes you out to are full of people that know you belong to her and wouldn’t dare hit on you. You stay by her side anyway so there is barely any chance for someone to try and hit on you.

If it does happen she gets very possessive. Has pulled a gun on someone who got inappropriate with you before and would absolutely do it again. 

Rudy

He will watch on with a grin. He trusts you completely and he knows you’ll handle it.

If the other person is too persistent, he might get involved, a cold smile on his lips as he yells across the bar. Sorry, dude. They’re not into blonds. Believe me, I’d know. 

Will be extremely relaxed up until the point where he sees you get uncomfortable with the other person’s behavior. He will get really heated when he sees you struggle and has beaten up someone before, smashing them against the bar and hissing at them to get some damn manners before he breaks their ribs. 

Alejandro

Alejandro knows you can deal with it yourself but he still likes to be present as a safety net so you don’t have to feel on your own in case things go wrong.

Usually will come up to you and just listen in, putting an arm around your waist if you seem uncomfortable. Usually the other person gets the hint by then but if not he’ll get involved. 

[slushycoookie]

Between Two Worlds ~ Loser!Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader

★Word Count: 4k ★Content: Reader is Fem!/chubby, I also made them more black-coded (I usually do with all my readers but it's much more prominent here), Miguel gets a lap dance AND a hand job on the same night, Tyler and Dana shows up (ugh), but so does Gabriel (yay!) ★A/N: The demons won, idk what to say. Dividers by @/rookthornesartistry Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

Miguel stops by to see you again.

He wanted to explain himself to you. The way he ran off a few days ago after you laid a finger on him, hearing everyone else laugh at his shyness wasn’t how he wanted that to go. How watching you spin around the pole changed his life. Especially after a couple of rough days. Well, rough weeks. His job hounding him for constant updates on a major project he was working on. And the fact that he lost his fiancé to another man.

He thought going to The Weave, one of the hottest clubs in Nueva York, would help a lot. Only for him to see you, the most beautiful person in the world. But he didn't need to explain all of that to you. The most he could do as an acceptable form of apology was to give you your money. After witnessing your amazing dancing.

Miguel asks one of the bartenders if he could talk to you alone but gets pushback. From the owner, Jessica, the only way to get you alone with him during club hours is to request a private VIP room. To talk or do other things. He begrudgingly settled for a simple lap dance, knowing he was going to leave as soon as he gave you the money.

Miguel’s resolve starts to falter at the idea of being alone with you like that. He heard his heart in his ears as he stood alone in the empty room. It wasn’t even that small, a comfortable size for endeavors such as these. The music booming across the walls matched the beat of his heart. Miguel rehearsed in his head what to say to you a bunch of times, only to come crashing down when you walked in.

The same sweet scent as before hits his nostrils. Your outfit was different this time, of course, it would be. A matching sparkly, purple bikini set. You must really like to shine. And be tall as he noticed you walking easily in platform heels. But you didn’t match his height.

“Hi.”

Miguel wipes his sweaty palms on his pants to give you a handshake, “Hello.”

Your gaze hits the outstretched arm, not expecting that. He still has some manners. So you take it, a pretty smile across your face.

“You requested a dance from me?”

“Yes! Wait, uh no not exactly.” Before you get confused, he pulls out the large stack of money he was supposed to throw the other night. Around five hundred dollars. “I-I wanted to give you this.”

Your eyes widened at the stack of cash, “For what?”

“Your dance. I didn’t throw any money.” He feels himself blush once more, “I was too… enraptured with your dance. I'm sorry.” Miguel extends out the money and you hesitate for a moment before taking the cash, settling it on the table for now.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He shoots you a shy smile before maneuvering towards the exit.

“You don't want the dance?”

Miguel quickly shakes his head, “No, no I just wanted to give you the money. I didn’t have any cruel intentions.”

You laugh and his heart squeezes with pain. Once again, he's become a joke to you.

“Honey,” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Requesting a lap dance isn't cruel. We have about thirty minutes in here, it'd be a shame to let it go to waste.”

He nods, the idea making sense. “Only if you're comfortable with that.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

A gentle hand rubs his arm for comfort and he sits on one of the black leather chairs. His hands gripping the arms of the seat, trying to calm his nerves. You fiddle with the remote and turn on music to match the mood. A slow, sensual song sets the atmosphere. The simple action of flipping your curly hair, the strands gracefully covering your shoulders causes him to get hard.

Miguel swallows, tugging at his shirt collar. You strut towards him and he feels like he's seeing you better the second time. How your thigh slightly jiggles from your walk to your breasts almost pouring out from your top. He tries not to stare when you spin around in front of him, letting him get a good look at you.

You lean over and cup his face, he tries not to lean into your touch but closes his eyes. Your soft, manicured hands trailing down to his neck, down to his blazer.

“Do you wanna take this off?”

He opens his eyes and sees you not too far from his face. Your dazzling makeup highlights your wonderful eyes, while you’re tugging at his clothes. “Can I?”

“Of course, babe.” You help him remove the jacket, gently placing it on the other chair instead of tossing it. “Does that feel better?”

“Yes.”

Once again, you shoot him a fine smile and he wonders if you could see him sweating. You don't say anything as you continue, taking off his glasses, and setting them on the table. Miguel blinks a few times to get used to the slightly blurry vision. His eyesight becomes clear when your full ass comes into view -slowly sliding back against his thighs, up to his growing erection. The grip on the chair arms gets tighter as he restrains himself from touching you. Even when you do it again, rolling your lower body, putting him in a trance.

He tries not to jump when your hands rest on top of his, sliding up to his forearms and back down to his knuckles. You squat, gyrating your entire body, hair swishing amid the quiet air before you slowly stand back up. He sits still as he's afraid to make any movements.

You straddle him, placing your thumb and index finger on his chin for him to have his eyes on you. And he does, not looking away when you lean back, showing off your perfect body. Your hips roll in tandem with the music, so fluid like water. Your clothed cunt brushed against his painfully obvious bulge. You hardly break a sweat, your makeup still as fresh as it was when you walked in.

Miguel feels cum leaking out his tip, unsure if he should end the session short. So he can fuck his hand and imagine it was you. He whimpers, wanting to show you what you were doing to him. You seem to notice as you grin during the dance. Leaning forward, hands tracing his chest, feeling what a built man he is underneath that white buttoned-down shirt.

“You want a hand job?”

He almost chokes on his saliva, “W-What?”

“You heard me.” You don’t stop while speaking, playfully unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m good at them. And you seem like you want one.” His eyes dart down to the bulge in his pants, face getting hot.

“I-I…” Miguel wasn’t sure the type of person he’d be if he said yes. Especially when he barely knows you. But you offered and he's a man of decent manners. Plus, he wasn’t looking forward to coating his hand with his cum tonight. “I would like that.”

You take your time reaching for his cock. Your purple acrylic nails, scrapped along his chest, down to his abdomen. He tries to slow down his breathing when you reach his belt, carefully undoing it. Unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper. It doesn’t take much for you to pull him out of his boxers. And your eyes grow wide at the sight of him.

Cock hard, veins running along his shaft, pre cum leaking from his tip. He tries to look anywhere else but you don’t let him when you grab his chin. Face close to his.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.”

“I’m not…” He proves it when you let go, eyes on you.

“You’re a big boy.” You still look at his cock, fascinated at the sight of him. Miguel doesn’t say anything, unsure how to respond to that. “I’ll take care of you.” You spit in your hand before touching him.

He tries not to orgasm right then and there. More cum leaks out, helping with the lubrication as you slide down his shaft. Your touch is better than anything else he’s had. He groans when you come back up to his tip, swirling your thumb around it. All while your eyes remain on him, not watching yourself and seeing what you’re doing.

“You like that?”

Miguel shudders as you stroke him, “Y-Yes.”

He still doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t buck his hips up into you. He allows you full control. A gorgeous person like yourself, messing with someone like him. He didn’t know how it came to this and he didn’t want to think about that.

You go faster, a tighter hold on his shaft. Miguel inadvertently spreads his legs wider, louder groans escaping his lips. He’s trapped between your voluptuous body and the fragrant scent he desperately wants to be full of. His lips parted with a plea to taste you, but that would be selfish.

“You want a kiss?” You whisper, nose pressed against his nose, lips hovering above his own.

He doesn’t trust his voice when he nods immediately. You kiss him, swallowing his eager noises. A part of him starts to slip when he grips the back of your neck. Your lips part and he slips his tongue inside, whining at your taste. He bucks his hips up into your hand, feeling that familiar sensation in his stomach. The music is blocked from his ears as he hears your moans, showing you’re also enjoying it. And that makes him happy. So happy that you’re enjoying what you’re doing to him.

To the point where he climaxes.

It was sudden when he moans between your lips, body stilling as his cum coats your hand, staining his pants. You pump him as much as you can, placing small kisses over his face while he comes down from his high. When you stand, he remembers your cum covered hand and points to his jacket.

“I have something you can use…” You dig into his jacket, using the non-cum covered hand. Miguel’s heart flipped at the small gesture. You pull out his pocket square, brows furrowed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can wash it later.”

You wipe your hand off, saving some room for him to wipe off any mess he made. For once, he was glad he didn’t cum so much this time. As he grabs his things and puts on his glasses, you start making your way to the exit, five hundred in hand. “Hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“W-Wait.” He quickly goes up to you, pulling out his wallet for any cash he’s had on hand. It was only a hundred, but he hoped it was enough.

“That’s nice of you.” You say while taking the hundred, “I was okay with the five you gave me.”

“I can give you more if you want.” He sees his card and wonders if there’s an ATM nearby he could use. Would another five hundred be enough? Maybe he should shoot for a thousand.

“No, no. Don’t spend all your money on me.” You push the wallet close to his chest, “You gotta eat dinner, you know?”

Miguel lets out a light chuckle, “Right…”

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miguel.” He loves how his name sounds across your lips. “Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

He doesn't stop thinking about you when he's home. You fill up his mind as he eats dinner, takes a shower, and lie in bed. An extraordinary person like yourself looks his way, even if it is mandatory. Miguel hasn’t felt this way since he met Dana, his ex-fiancé. Before, she was all he could think about and get lost in. Now, he had you.

His coworkers told him not to fall in love with the dancers. Albeit, they said it jokingly but now he was screwed. This wasn’t even a good time, Dana still had some of her clothes at his place. The break-up was still fresh. Miguel tried to push it out of his mind by focusing on work and strengthening his relationship with his family. But some days were bad. Like he didn’t think if he was worthy of love again.

Miguel was afraid of others thinking you were a rebound and he was seeing it himself. That wasn't the case in his mind. Maybe he should set an arrangement? Otherwise, he’d come and see you every day if he can. And while he wasn’t low on funds, he didn’t want to get that way.

So he started with having you fill his thoughts.

At work, he was in a much better mood. Splicing genes and dealing with DNA, regular geneticist things. He was even for talking to his coworkers, who finally asked about his strip club experience.

“Who did you go see?” Miguel’s colleague, Aaron, asked while handing him a cup of coffee.

“Silk. I liked her dance.”

“Oh, so you got a personal lap dance from her?” He nods, not wanting to go into detail on his experience with you. That was for him and him alone. “Man, lemme tell you, the perfect woman right there. That rack alone? Top tier breasts.”

Miguel shook his head, “She’s more than just her body.”

“Says the man who went in there to see a woman’s body.”

“Right, I’m the problem here.” He bit his tongue, deciding that was enough conversation for the day. Miguel excused himself from the break room, aiming to finish up work in his lab. He tried not to let his coworker's comments sour his mood, but something else sideswiped him.

Tyler called Miguel into his office. And he was not looking forward to that.

He saw the reason when Dana was on Tyler’s lap, laughing and joking around. Her face close to his, almost whispering about something he didn’t catch.

“Miguel!” Dana noticed him first and tried to stand but Tyler stopped her, sitting her back down—a possessive arm around her.

“Don’t go, my dear. You just got comfortable.”

She wanted to object to the fact her husband-to-be was in the office but Miguel stepped forward, “It's fine. You wanted to see me, sir?”

Or he should say father, with venom laced through his words. That would've caused a scene.

“Yes, I wanted to ask about the spider DNA and how that's going?”

Miguel clenched his jaw, knowing full well this could've been done through a phone call. “It's going fine. Still have hundreds of DNA to go through.”

“Hundreds? You’ve been having a slow work ethic these past couple of weeks.” Tyler's brows furrowed, “I wonder why.”

‘You know why.’

“It's nothing, sir. I promise you, I'll catch up.”

“You better. I need something to give these shareholders at the end of the quarter.”

Miguel nods, motioning to the door, “May I go now?”

“Sure, sure.” Tyler allows, not before letting Miguel see him pull Dana close to him, showing what he stole.

The day was now ruined. Even thoughts of you weren't enough to get him back to his happy state. He needed to see you again, and go over the arrangement he wanted to set. But he's already been there for three days this week. And he didn’t want anyone to get suspicious of his constant presence.

Luckily, Gabriel called him after work.

“Mig! I'm hungry!”

He held in a sigh, “You know where to get food, Gabri.”

“Duh, this was an invitation to go out with Kasey and me. Have dinner with us?”

Miguel glanced at the clock in his apartment, “Fine. Where?”

“I'll text you the place.”

It resulted in him being a third wheel to his brother and girlfriend. The Italian restaurant they picked was low-key as Miguel stared out the window to ignore Gabriel and Kasey's banter. Wishing he was somewhere else.

“Soooo,” Gabriel leaned forward, capturing his brother's attention, “How have you been?”

Miguel raised a brow, “I've been okay.”

“Just okay?” He leans closer, almost brushing along the breadsticks.

“Just okay.”

“Oh good.” He leans back, arm draped over his girlfriend, “For a second there, I thought you’d be hung up on Dana.”

“That bitch of a whore.” Kasey added, nibbling on a breadstick.

“Exactly.”

“Don’t call her that.” Miguel says, no matter how right Kasey was. “She chose not to be with me anymore, I can respect that.”

“By cheating on you with your boss.” Gabriel reminds him as if the entire ordeal was still fresh. The pain, the heartbreak, the constant thoughts of Miguel wondering what he did wrong in the relationship and how it came to this.

“Tyler…was a better option for her.” It was all he could say before intentionally propping up his menu to get a good look at what he was ordering. He didn’t want to go back and forth with his brother. He’s already done that enough with one too many people. Once they ordered, Miguel couldn’t hide behind his menu anymore, so he thought to bring up something else. “I’ve already met someone else.”

“And proceeded to not tell your little brother?” Gabriel clutches his chest in dramatics, “Does Mami know?”

“What do you think?” Miguel gave him a look, which his brother reciprocated when Kasey took over.

“Okay, who are they? Spill.”

“I’d…rather not.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m feeling it out. I want to make sure it’s not a rebound because of what happened with Dana.” As much as he wanted to boast about you, there was still the problem that he barely knew you. He couldn’t let anyone know about you until he does.

“Fair.”

“Are they cute at least?” Gabriel earned a smack on the head from her, “What? I’m just asking!”

“He’ll talk about them when he wants to talk about them.”

“Alright, alright.” Miguel’s lips curled upwards with amusement at the two. “Keep me updated, okay?”

“I will.”

Miguel comes back to The Weave with a mission. He stands in line, waiting to be admitted with the others, rehearsing what he wants to propose to you. The head of security, which Miguel finds out his name is Noir, pats him down after collecting the thirty-dollar admissions fee.

“Have fun, Mr. Science Guy.”

Miguel walks in, getting used to the bright flashing lights inside the club. A few dancers are already on stage, getting covered with money. He doesn't see you though. So he goes to the bar to ask for you. And be graced by the owner herself.

“Oooh the nerdy guy came back.” She teases, handing customers shots of tequila. Her outfit is slightly more modest compared to her employees. A red, leather bodysuit paired with a matching jacket and black boots that went to her thighs. He glanced down at her exposed cleavage before he looked at her eyes, “This is your third time being here, so you must got some money.”

Miguel snorts, “Are you counting?”

“Hell yeah. You pay well, gotta make sure it stays that way.” She offers him a shot but he declines, going back to the task at hand.

“Is she here?”

“Now, you know I need a name.” Jessica peers through her yellow-coated shades.

“Silk.” He swallows, “I want to talk to her for a bit.”

“Sure. ‘Talk’.” She emphasizes before stepping out from behind the bar, calling in some blonde guy named Ben to take over. “She's on her break but I'll give you a bit to speak to her.”

Miguel follows Jess to the back of the place. Maneuvering past half-drunk people, not trying to step on the money that was thrown all over the place, while keeping his eyes straight ahead at the multiple lap dances and pole dancing he came across. She led him down a series of steps, the loud, thumping music fading away.

“Guess who's baaaack?” Jess sings as she leads him to the dressing room. A large room filled with bright lights, plenty of locker rooms and mirrors, and an area in the corner which he assumed was the bathroom. Momentarily, he saw you leaning against the table, slowly munching away on a cookie. Eyes unfocused but coming back to reality when they stepped into the room.

“Hey, Miguel.”

“Ooh, so yall are on a first-name basis already?” You shake your head as Miguel seals his lips. Jess grins, not wanting to tease any further. “He wanted to talk to you. So you got ten minutes before I need you back out there.”

You shoot her an ok sign when Miguel says, “Thank you.”

“Mmhm.”

As Jess walks out of the room, he sees your outfit. Your body is in full view through the long, sheer black outfit, exposing your legs. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thanks.” You give him a brief smile, “So what brings you here? Want another hand job?”

“Ah no, thank you.”

“Aww, you didn’t like the last one? I’ll admit it was a bit impromptu, I didn’t have my lube on me.” You explain. Miguel figures you must give a lot of hand jobs.

“No, I enjoyed it. Very much so.” He admits, ducking his head, the linoleum floor looking a lot nicer right now. “I wanted to see if we could come up with an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?”

“Yes. A certain day when I can see you and only you.” He continues, “All of these other ladies are nice but I only want you.”

“I'm flattered.” You tap on the table to get him to sit beside you and he does. Taking in the close proximity, “I'm surprised a man like you wants to frequent this place, out of all places.”

“A man like me?” He questions but then understands what you meant, “You mean a scientist?”

“…yeah, sure. Let's go with that.��� You pat his shoulder.

“Is it wrong that I want to do something different? I go to work, go home, see my family, and that's it. Not a way to live.”

“True. But you thought that something different was going to a strip club?”

“Y-Yes.” He rubs the back of his neck while your eyes are filled with questions. But you didn’t ask any. “My ex-fiancé thought I was boring. And maybe I am, but I wanted to prove it.”

“Ah, so this is for getting back at your ex, got it.”

Miguel feels a shift from you after saying that and he goes to correct himself, “No wait, I'm not using you, don't think that way. I just wanted something new to my routine.”

“Then what does this arrangement entail?” You ask, hands on your hips. “Because a lot of people come to the club to see ass, tiddies, and pussy. Then go about their business. It looks like you're asking for more than that.”

This conversation is going all wrong. Now, it looks like he offended you which wasn't his intention. Miguel wasn’t sure what exactly he said to make you hostile towards him in the first place so he backtracks.

“I just want to see you and talk.”

“While I give you a lap dance or something?” He nods, “You know I'm not a therapist.”

“I know.”

“And you know you're still going to have to pay me.”

“R-Right, of course. I have plenty of money.”

“But don't waste it all on me. You got yourself to take care of.”

“Yes, yes you're absolutely right.”

“Okay.” You sigh, stuffing the rest of the cookie in your mouth before brushing the crumbs off your body. Miguel wished he was the cookie crumb that grazed along your chest, but he bit his lip not to say anything. “I have a headlining dance on Tuesdays but if you want to make sure we have plenty of time together, then Thursdays.”

“Okay.”

Time was up and you had to go back out on the floor. As you push him out, he stops right by the doorway to the establishment, blocking your path.

“So I'll see you on Tuesday?”

You roll your eyes, “I told you I have a dance on Tuesdays.”

“I know.”

Your lips twitch, unsure if they want to smile or not. “I'll see you then.”

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[filthgarbage86]

I cannot stop thinking about Eddie calling you nicknames. Not even just the regular ones, like baby, honey, sweetheart, baby cakes, though those ones still make your heart race. Imagine the day he figures out you like other nicknames. And once he figures out one, he’s testing them all to see which one gets him the biggest response.

Imagine being at school, you’re sitting next to him in class and suddenly your teacher is calling on you to answer a question. You’re always fast to clam up when you’re called on but luckily this time you really did know the answer to whatever the teacher was asking. You give a clear, straight answer and your teacher commends you on your work, “Good work, y/n” and you just hear next to you, barely above a whisper “that’s my good girl”. You’re sure that you’re more red than a tomato.

Imagine you’re at hellfire club with everyone and you’re getting hyped up before a session and he is just sitting there in his chair, looking at you with big, bright eyes, noting how excited you seemed. When you take your seat next to him, he just comments “seems like my doll is ready to play. Let’s get started.” Again, you’re a mess and a half, red as can be but you’re still able to control yourself a bit.

The last straw is over the weekend, at a party at Steve’s with everyone around and you wish you could crawl into a hole when it happens. You’re having a great time, you’re chatting with the crew, Robin is sharing stories about this guy that came into the store today and was recommending the worst movies to her as though he had any taste. Everything was going really smoothly and then, Eddie comes over. He slides right next to you on the floor that you had been sat at in the circle. He’s laughing at something Robin said, placing a hand on your thigh and rubbing comforting circles to show his presence. He smells like weed, alcohol, and his cologne and you’re already gone. Then, knowing exactly what he’s doing, he just leans into your ear like he’s telling a secret - “hiya bunny, how’s my sweet baby doing?” and you all but whimper. Bunny. You don’t know why that’s gotten the reaction it did but you immediately regret it the moment it slipped. The music felt like it went quiet and you felt like you had multiple pairs of eyes on you. Eddie’s eyes look like a lightbulb just went off behind them.

“Ohhh what’s this, bunny? Do you like being called that?”

It’s the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. It couldn’t possibly-

“Awe what’s wrong bunny? You embarrassed? Don’t be. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. You’re so good to me, bunny, letting me know something like this”

You absent-mindedly are clenching and rubbing your thighs under his touch while he’s chuckling low and you wish you were anywhere else right now. You had been avoiding eye contact this entire time until he took your chin and jaw in your hand and with a gentle but firm touch, he turned your head towards him

“Just say the word, and we can get out of here baby. I’ll treat you like a good little bunny too. All you have to do is look at me in the eye, and say so.”

Before you can even respond, Robin let’s out a long sigh and groan “guys, come on, either get a room or get a clue”. You decide at this moment to finally look at Eddie. His eyes have a smirk behind them and you’re swimming in chocolate.

“Well sweetheart? What do you say?”

“i thought…” you weren’t sweetheart right now, you wanted the other name again. You needed to hear him say it again.

He lifts your chin up again to look at him, firmly

“Speak up, Princess? What do you want to do?”

“I want to be a good bunny-“ he’d be pulling you out the door in a spilt second and you know it.

I just- I want to be called names like that by this man so badly. And you KNOW he would.