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arinbelle · 5 months ago

Text

Made (Nessian Mafia AU)

A/N: YES I KNOW IT’S BEEN TWO YEARS SINCE I UPDATED. I’M SORRY.

Enjoy as always! 😉

Part XIII

It is possible to be in love with you just because of who you are.” ― Maggie Stiefvater

~*~

Nesta hadn’t bothered to ask where they were when the plane had landed. The tropical island they were now on had been a hazy figure against the backdrop of a dark night as they came to it on a boat. All of it had been ready to go the minute they’d landed at the private airport, with multiple cars changing routes and a chartered yacht off whatever coast they’d arrived on.

The air was hot with a warm breeze but the lack of humidity had made it bearable to her. They were staying in a beautiful beach house with a deck and balconies overlooking the calm sea around them. If she didn’t know any better, she might have guessed it was the perfect sort of destination honeymooners came to. But this was not a honeymoon, nor any vacation, no matter how pretty the scenery was. Nesta found very little joy in the temporary refuge Cassian had brought her to.

She had tried her very best to tell him, thank you. Thank you for saving her from that abysmal marriage she’d been about to enter into. Thank you for always being there for her. Thank you for bringing her here, wherever here was.

In the end, Nesta had fallen into a dreamless sleep within moments of being brought to a bedroom.

It had only been a day later from when they’d arrived that Cassian had walked into the large master bedroom and silently handed her a burner phone. Nesta had been lounging around, not really doing anything since they had no Wi-Fi or cell service but the hurry in Cassian’s step and the harsh lines on his face had worried her.

She’d taken the phone from him with shaky hands while he watched her stoically.

Nesta had murmured a quiet hello, not expecting Elain on the other line.

“Nesta? Hi. It’s me.”

Nesta hadn’t responded, not knowing what else to say. Elain’s voice had shaken, and even though it wasn’t uncommon for Elain to waver, something about it had sent uneasiness reading through her.

Elain had cleared her throat, “It’s…mom. She passed away this morning. Dad’s in the ICU. It’s not looking good.”

The world had begun buzzing faintly around her and the phone had dropped from her hands, thunking noisily onto the hardwood floor. A strange high pitched noise had taken over all sound, and while Nesta could see Cassian pick up the phone and talk to the person on the other line, she couldn’t hear the conversation. Nor did she want to.

That had been a week ago.

Nesta didn't speak much after that and she knew Cassian was worried. Worried enough that he kept pestering her every few hours to eat, to come walk with him or to simply do something other than sit on their bed and stare blankly at the walls. But what the hell else was she supposed to do?

Her mother was dead. She got daily updates on her father’s condition and it wasn’t changing to anything good. Outside of her family, tension in the entire syndicate had come to its peak and war had broken out. Beron had declared war on Nolan for Nesta backing out of their agreement. They found out that Nolan, thanks to Cassian and Azriel’s spies, already had a plan ready to kill Nesta the minute he found her. There was a bounty put on hers and Cassian’s head and the only thing that was stopping it from spreading to her sisters was Rhysand’s quick thinking. He’d taken over as Capo in Cassian’s absence, and due to Cassian and their crew’s notorious reputation, Nolan held off on her sisters, who were now staying with Rhysand and Azriel. Nesta had worried about her father who was alone in the ICU but Rhysand had promised her he’d put multiple guards in the hospital corridors and on the floor to protect him.

Eris was nowhere in the public eye but again thanks to the many spies Azriel had sent out, they knew he was fine and had survived the massacre at their almost wedding. He was also just as upset at Nesta’s disappearing act, but unlike Beron, he hadn’t made as many public claims for slaughter and vengeance.

“Probably scared someone’s going to finish the job the second time around if he opens his mouth again,” Cassian had snickered on the phone a few days ago. Nesta had almost laughed at the image of a cowering Eris, once again on the run because he bit off more than he could chew. But then everything hit her all over again, and she quickly sobered up.

It wasn’t that she had been particularly close to her mother. At least, not in the traditional sense, since they were as dysfunctional as they came. But for the time Nesta’s mother had stuck around, Nesta had been the apple of her mother’s eye. She’d maintained every rule and every whim her mother threw at her, only to be let down by everything that happened when she ran away.

And it was a strange sort of grief, to feel such an absence, and cry not with longing for what was gone, but for what had never even been there. For what they could have been.

It was a week and a half into their pseudo-vacation when Nesta got the call that made her breathe slightly easier. Her father was awake and well on his way to recovering. They’d moved him out of the ICU and brought him to Rhysand’s home with a stay at home nurse and visiting doctor.

Her mother’s death was a cold, dull emptiness. If her father had passed too, Nesta knew it would open into a yawning fire, threatening to consume her completely with guilt. His last words to her had been apologetic, and the most heartfelt they’d ever had in years. Possibly ever. Perhaps it was fucked up that it was only near death that she felt worried about the strained relationship between her father and herself, but that was who she was. Bitter at times. Cruel too often. And easily hurtful as she was hurting.

Cassian it seemed was the only one who didn’t mind all her sharp edges.

When the phone call ended between her and Feyre, Cassian took the phone from her with one hand and pulled her upright with the other.

“Come with me,” he pulled her gently towards the master bath.

“I don’t want to shower right now. I might go for a walk,” she pulled back and away, knowing that this was Cassian’s attempt to get her to talk to him. And she would do no such thing. Just because her father would be okay didn’t mean she was ready to deal with all the shit that had happened in the past few weeks.

“A soak,” Cassian insisted, already reaching the massive tub and turning on the water. “Just a quick soak Nesta. Your father’s doing better, you can breathe a little.”

He looked back at her as the soap began foaming and a lovely, light scent that reminded her of Cassian’s aftershave, filled the room.

“Relax with me. Just for a little bit.” And then he held her in a stare that she couldn’t break away from, not after everything he’d done for her.

He’d watched over her for so long, especially since he’d brought her here, and it was only because of his brothers that her family was still alive. He’d helped her escape a horrible fate, and he’d been nothing but kind in all these weeks of monotonous silence from her.

She grumbled but started taking off her shirt, then her shorts and Cassian followed suit, walking into the tub and settling into it. She may have sneaked a peek at his backside and the rippling tattoos on his muscled back as he sat down. Just a peek.

They hadn’t touched like that ever since they’d gotten here, and while Nesta knew Cassian was doing it to be respectful, she mildly resented it. It would have been a welcome escape from the misery in her head. But she also knew Cassian would tell her that wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism.

The water was warm against her skin as she walked into the tub and slowly sunk down to sit. She’d opted for sitting across from Cassian as opposed to directly against him, just in case she lost control of herself and started leading them towards something more than just “relaxing.”

Cassian would stay the utter gentleman but Nesta couldn't guarantee she could do the same.

They sat like that for a few minutes and eventually Cassian slipped a hand underneath the bubbles to grasp one of her legs and massage her calves.

“I’m fine,” she insisted tightly as he rubbed a particularly sore spot.

“You’re stiff,” he grunted. “And you’re tense.”

“I wonder why,” she snapped, teeth bared at him only for a moment before she remembered he wasn’t the enemy here. Cassian only held her eyes for a little longer before returning back to his ministrations.

She almost apologized but even talking was too much of an effort.

“We need a plan. For how to return without getting killed.”

Agreed. She only nodded at him. She was all ears at this point because when she wasn’t grieving or cold with numbness, she was thinking about all the plays they had to go back home and stay alive. So far she’d counted ten different ways to go about it, with each one ending up with Nesta, Cassian or both of them dead. Usually their families also ended up on the wrong end of a weapon.

“We can deal with Tamlin’s crew after we deal with our inner house shit. If we try to pick a fight with them while we’re still fighting, we’re going to lose.”

Agreed again. She may have hated the idea of the truce, only because she had had to marry Eris, but the concept wasn’t bad at all. United on both the East Coast and the Midwest front meant more trading in between the two factions, more strength, and overall, more reason for other groups to not fuck with them. In this case, that would be the Irish.

Cassian had alternated to her other leg and she had almost sighed aloud in pleasure at how good his fingers had felt massaging the taut muscles of her hamstring. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a few moments of peace and quiet.

A secret, selfish part of her whispered that this was the solution. To stay here, under the radar, forever. To never leave. To stay hidden and safe and far away from the ruckus that was the Cosa Nostra and Outfit.

But then she remembered that it wasn’t just her or Cassian she needed to think about. Feyre, Elain, her father, Cassian’s brothers, and the countless innocents on both sides would bear the brunt of the conflict if they didn’t intervene soon and a war started.

Cassian’s voice called her name softly but she was far too comfortable now to move or speak, let alone open her eyes up. She only murmured to indicate she’d heard him.

“We need to get married.”

Nesta’s eyes snapped open.

“What?”

Cassian didn’t react as she pulled her leg from his grasp and straightened her back.

“Are you crazy?”

Cassian rolled his eyes, leveling her with a hard glare. “Obviously.”

“Don’t mock me, this is serious. That doesn’t solve anything. In fact, I’m pretty sure it makes it worse.”

“How? The only issue they have right now is the fact that you didn’t marry Eris and the alliance got fucked. We go back, married. You’re from the Outfit, I’m Cosa Nostra, it’s perfect.”

“No,” Nesta shook her head viciously. “It is not perfect. Nolan and I had a deal. I marry a son of the Vanserra family. Last I checked, you’re not that.”

Cassian waved a hand, splashing some water to the side of the tub. “Semantics. It’s a marriage that cultivates the alliance they want for a truce. It doesn’t really matter in the end who does it. It’s symbolic.”

Nesta opened her mouth to argue about the bigger problem she had.

“I talked to Rhys this morning. He’s sent money to Nolan and paid off your debts. With interest. And then some on top of that.”

Nesta shut her mouth. Opened it again. Then shut it as realization struck her.

“You played me,” she gasped.

Cassian grabbed her by the ankle underwater before she could leave the tub. He rolled his eyes as she tried to kick him with her free foot, only to slip further down in the tub and get splashed in the face with suds.

“Can you stop?”

“No! No I will not stop,” she seethed. “You were all, “relax with me Nesta. Just for a little bit, Nesta. We need a plan, Nesta.”’ She didn’t care how ridiculous she sounded mimicking him.

“You already had a plan ready to go this morning, you motherfu-.” He tightened his hold on her ankle, pulling her even closer, and cutting her off. She didn’t care. He’d snapped some invisible tether of restraint on her and she couldn’t hold back anymore.

“This was just making sure I followed through with the rest of it. Do you think I’m stupid Cassian? You think I’m some kind of fucking idiot? My mother is dead, my entire family is in shambles and you pull this shit on me? That’s so fucked up. And so you. You’re trying to manipulate me into marrying you. Well you can’t. I won’t do it.”

Nesta’s chest was heaving as she struggled to compose herself. She was livid. She didn't even know she was capable of being this angry with him.

“Are you done?,” he asked, exasperation written all over his face. Had it been anyone else, she knew he would have left the minute she’d started screaming at him. But Cassian had remained unfazed at her outburst. He probably found it funny if she knew him.

When Nesta didn’t respond Cassian nodded.

“Good. I’m glad you got it all off your chest.”

Asshole.

“Now, why don’t you want to get married? I just told you why it will work, and you know your debts have been squared away, so that contract with Nolan is useless to you now. You don’t have to follow it. This works out.”

It did work out. Really well actually. Too well. Well, fuck that.

“You know what else works out Cassian? We go back and murder everyone gunning for us right now. But why haven’t we done that yet? Let’s think about it.” She ignored the eye roll he gave her. “Because, it’s a stupid fucking idea!”

Cassian muttered,“So you weren’t done then?”

“Don’t mock me!”

“I’m not. Give me one good reason why we can’t get married.”

Almost spluttering, Nesta was grasping at straws when she made her final argument.

“People marry when they’re in love.” It sounded stupid just leaving her mouth but she said it anyway. Cassian did indeed laugh.

“Yeah, because you and Eris were just starstruck by each other.”

Nesta scoffed. “Don't be such a dick, you know what I mean. Outside of this life I mean. I can’t just marry you after running away from my last one. Marriage should be for love.”

“And I don’t love you?” He cocked his head at her.

Nesta froze.

Cassian let her.

They’d never gone there, here, and being caught unexpectedly in the thick of it wasn’t doing her any favors with winning her argument. Or dealing with what he’d just thrown on her. The awkward silence between them continued to stretch on. The way they were both bared to each other in such a painful, raw way made her want to scream.

Finally, she found her voice. “No.” Her voice was shook and she hated it. Hated everything. Even him in that moment.

“No, I don’t love you?”

She sighed. Tried again to speak. But it was too much. Too much too soon all at once. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry.

When was the last time someone had said they loved her.

Seriously, truly loved her.

Loved…her.

“I’m not…” No she couldn’t. It was far too shameful to say it out loud. She closed her eyes as the muscles began stretching and pain spread under lids. She could feel the tears begin to build up even under the closed eyelid. Could taste the tears in the back of her throat as she held them in longer. She couldn’t do this.

“You’re not what, Nesta?”

So wrong. So, so wrong to admit this to him. To say it out loud and let him know just how wrong he was. The minute she did, he’d leave. He’d know she was right and he’d walk right out, and then where would that leave her?

Right where she’d been before they’d even met.

“Nesta you need to talk to me. I can’t read your mind. I mean, usually yes, but not right now. So help me out bella.”

Well, she knew how this was going to go anyways in the end, so there was no point in prolonging his departure any more.

“I’m not…” she blew out a breath. Tried again. Eyes tightly shut still because damn it she would not cry in front of him. “I’m not someone that’s loved. People don’t love me. And if you’re saying you do, you’re lying. And I know that it’s stupid because no one is probably ever going to do it, but I still want to be loved to be married to someone.”

It was horrible saying it out loud. Her greatest fear, her greatest shame. And yet, with her eyes still shut, and only a few tears having managed to leak out from her eyes, it wasn’t so bad. She’d bared herself at her lowest to him, but since she couldn’t see his face, it almost made it okay. She wouldn’t need to watch him nod in agreement, nor would she need to see him walk out and never look back.

“Nesta look at me.” She wouldn’t have. She hadn’t planned to. But something in his voice made her reconsider. The softness with which he pleaded with her made her re-evaluate her decision to shut him out.

The tears that had built up behind her eyes fell down her cheeks hastily as she opened up her eyes to a blurry world. She blinked the moisture away until a grave looking Cassian was staring back at her.

“Nesta, let me be very clear about this. Because I don’t want you getting this mixed up and I don’t want you thinking I’m lying.”

She waited for him to say his goodbyes.

“I love you, very much. I could not live a day without you if you were gone, and I can’t stand to breathe sometimes when you aren’t around me. I wanted you by my side from the first day I met you even though I barely knew you. And even then, it’s felt like I’ve always known you. I want to marry you, because you are the most amazing, beautiful, selfless, loving, and brave woman I’ve ever had the honor of meeting and knowing.”

She was shaking and Cassian reached out to steady her, enclosing her hands into his larger, stable ones.

“Not because of some stupid contract. Not because of this fucked up war. I want you for you. I want to marry you because I love you. And I am sorry I didn’t say it sooner and let you think you weren’t loved. Because you are bella. You are someone who is loved. You are very much so, loved and not just by me, by many people, and I am sorry for whatever or whoever made you think otherwise. But that’s not true, and if I have to spend the rest of my life convincing you of it, I will. It would be my honor to share that life with you, if you would have me.”

Nesta didn’t know what to say to that. She’d been stunned into silence yet again.

Nesta had never feared the men in her life growing up. Not for the reasons most women did. Sure they were capable of unspeakable violence. Unfathomable cruelty at times. Apathetic at the best of times, monsters at the worst of them.

But Nesta had become a monster too. From the moment Nolan had put a gun in her hand and she’d felt the recoil stampede through her bones, she’d known she’d never be anything less than the men she’d grown up around. No less fearsome, no less violent. But the only person, the only man, that Nesta had ever come to truly fear, was Cassian.

Cassian, who was all brash temper and bold spirit. Cassian who had seen through her willful pride and broiling anger, and uncovered her true self within minutes of their eyes slashing into each other. Cassian had terrified her because even after seeing it all, after she’d laid her truth and her past bare, he hadn’t run. He’d welcomed her and rejoiced in her with his own haunted musings. And with the admission, with the brutal honesty of who they were, Nesta had become afraid of what he had seen. What they could be. What she may become. A monster through and through, yes, but no longer alone.

Cassian who…loved her.

“Nesta?,” Cassian asked with a bit of panic in his eyes. “I know it’s not the best proposal in the world but I don’t know if silence is the rejection I want.”

That thawed her.

A wholehearted, unexpected laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it, and Cassian nervously joined her after a moment.

She moved closer until both her and Cassian were almost nose to nose in the middle of the tub. She lifted a hand to his cheek, and Cassian pressed a kiss to the heart of her palm.

“You love me?,” she whispered.

“I do. I love you.”

So Nesta kissed him and Cassian kissed her back with so much fervor, she almost laughed again at his excitement.

And then she was crying, all over again, but this time, it was Cassian who wiped her tears away, just as he shed his own. She wiped his too, holding him tightly just as he held onto her.

“I love you, Cassian,” she whispered onto his lips before kissing him again. Gods but she had loved him for years. Years and never once had she told a soul, let alone Cassian himself. Pining so desperately after him, wanting and wishing for him to be hers just as he had been all along.

And even though the world had gone to shit around them, especially back home, and they didn’t know what would happen in the end, none of it mattered in that moment.

Not the fighting and the bloodshed, nor the war and the uncertainty of it all.

In that moment, Nesta’s world was perfect.

~*~

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#Nesta #nesta archeron #nessian #nessian fanfiction #cassian #nesta fanfiction #acotar #acosf #nessian au #alternate mafia #Nessian mafia au #made #arinbelle #a court of silver flames #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron #nesta x cassian

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caustinen · 5 months ago

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omg i love how ur hollywood au is coming along, i need moreeeee

hii i’m so happy you like it!! here are some domestic headcannons requested by another user, it got hits of spiciness at times so hope that’s okay <3

hollywood au domestic headcanons 🦋

Bucky brings out a softer side from Gale who has been hardened by life and put up some walls when it came to intimacy/trusting others and their love, and he’s so thankful to have found someone who makes him see the world as a gentler place. Bucky is passionate with everything he does, but with Gale, he found new ways to put all that energy to in a positive, inspiring things that helps him along in other aspects of his life as well.

John loves buying Gale flowers and his / later their apartment is always filled with beautiful boquets that make it alive (I’d think Buck would have stylistic but quite simple/Scandinavian style home). Gale keeps telling him he doesn’t have to buy him anything but as long as he gets that soft smile to his face as John presents him with yet another bunch they will be coming in.

Another big thing for John is physical touch, he always has an arm around his boyfriends shoulders or waist. Gale on the other hand is a great listener and gives wonderful advice, countering John’s temperament. And while he’s more careful about physicality in public, he’s surprisingly clingy when they’re home by the two of them which John absolutely adores, he might never ask for closeness with his words but he’ll find ways to seek physcal touch in other ways. Both of them value quality time over everything.

They have to strategize their dates well which sometimes threatens to suck the romance out of it, but when they manage to work around it that makes it even more romantic. Night walks by Seine when they’re travelling in Europe, small local venue concerts where no one cares about them… The rarity of those moments give them extra spice.

That being said, they do love a quiet night in just as much. There’s comfort in having the world have them as completely separate individuals during the days, the nights are theirs to share.

They both love to read and often read great parts aloud for each other. John could listen to Gale read for hours, finding it easy to stay put unlike usually, even if Gale is barely aware he’s even there when he gets really into it.

Gale doesn’t particularly like going to parties and he sometimes worries John will get tired of him because he’s not as outgoing but John is actually really content, he can party with anyone but he can only have these moments of peace with Gale ❤️ It also helps to throw all eyes off them because like noted in the og post Bucky being photographed with others keeps media off track.

Gale’s office is a good place to meet — John being seen there is ”likely place for him to be” since he has business there, and Gale’s office has seen both date lunches as well as John being bent over his table (…he on the other hand prefers to have Gale against the big windows since they’re so high up no one can see.) The fact that they weren’t caught by anyone else but Curt (Gale’s client and Bucky’s best friend who already knew) is a miracle.

John actually told multiple stories about their adventures together/about Gale in general in interviews before they went public but they made a joke out of it because John always tells about him with ”my friend Buck and I…”. After the relationship goes public fans love going back and trying to find all the clues from over the years.

They travel a lot too between Bucky’s filming schedules, they’re both really into history and love to see different sights all over the world (at times it’s the easiest to hide in plain sight in busy tourist destinations). Sometimes John drags them to beach resorts too tho if Gale seems extra stressed out — he always protest and wants to rather do city vacations but he always ends up loving it anyway.

(Their honeymoon is in a summer house of their friend on a private island and they sure make the most of it despite being public at the time — the privacy feels even more inviting because of it)

They are sometimes forced to stay apart long periods of time if John is filming somewhere and Gale can’t leave LA because of work but they always call and text goodnight, and because of their busy professional lives the time they do spend together is always precious and they never guilt the other about having to be away, they have a similar understanding of the importance of their careers.

They also go to the gym together which isn’t always the greatest because they are 1) competitive af and 2) chronically horny for each other, and the display of physical strength/beauty can be dangerous. Espescially if they’ve been busy layely; espescially if John happens to be bulking up for an action film and Gale is torn between wanting out-bulk him or let him carry him away from there.

Gale couldn’t care less about watching sports (he does go to some games every once in a while for Bucky but he’s always bored out of his mind) but he loves playing them, and they sometimes manage to arrange some friendly soccer or baseball or tennis etc with other friends too.

I kind of referenced this in one of the instagram things but it would be fun to imagine Gale getting pretty creative when seeing Bucky in different costumes/roles, like maybe he wouldn’t mind John bringing the uniform home one day. Bucky sees himself in the costumes for months but Gale might only come to set once or twice and be Thinking Thoughts later when they get home about it too.

I also hc that this Bucky would be very into fashion and style and loves shopping while Gale couldn’t care less, he’s wearing suits to work and something simple on his free time but John keeps dragging him along and making him suffer for hours in malls and boutiques as he tries go get him to try something on. After their relationship goes public Gale wants to present himself well and thus starts to wear more bold looks (he doesn’t have to worry about getting attention anymore either, so it’s actually kind of fun). John thinks it’s so over because the little he was able to concentrate on these things before is GONE (thinking about that Bikeriders premier cropped jacket and wide pants, Bucky would be nosebleeding and staring while some poor media people try to interview him)

Imagining them cooking each other midnight dinners when the other has to work late and slow dancing, bare feet in pyjamas in the kitchen in each others embrace were the first two images that came to mind so we’ll end with them 🖤

hope you keep liking this stuff!!

linking the other additions in case you missed something: john’s insta / gale’s insta / media+friends instas / first meetings / first i love yous 💘

#hollywood au #buck x bucky #clegan #masters of the air #mota #gale cleven #john egan #buck #bucky #writing

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mountttmase · 7 months ago

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y/n

liked by masonmount, freyaaaaxoxo, benchilwell and others

y/n complete 💍🩷

Thank you to everyone who came to spend our special day with us and make it so memorable. Never did I think any of this would be on the cards for me but I can’t tell you how it feels to finally be a Mount.

Here to forever with my boys 🤭

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masonmount wifey 🤍 I can’t believe we got here finally, love you to the moon back 💫

y/n love you more than anything 🩷

freyaaaaxo look at Georgie dressed up in his little suit 😩 thank you for letting me be part of your special day, I’ll never forget it 😘

y/n I couldn’t have done it without you girl 😘 you know I’ll do the same when your time comes too 😏

woody_ 😉

declanrice Portsmouth never looked so good 😉 congrats and good luck putting up with Masons for the rest of you life. I don’t envy you.

masonmount you can just say you’re jealous it’s alright bro

jazbenham ONE OF US ONE OF US!!! This was just the best day, so so excited for you both 🩷

y/n thank you for accepting me 🥺 I love being part of your special family

lew.mount and we love having you!

sophiaaemeila what a magical day 🤍 so lovely to see two people find their person I’m just so happy for you both

y/n we love you 🤍 thanks so much for spending our special day with us 😘

benchilwell you’re welcome by the way, I don’t think you’d be here without me 😉

y/n love you Benji! Thank you for interfering like always 😘

masonmount

liked by y/n, woody_, lukeshaw23 and others

masonmount thank you to everyone that came to our special day. I can’t believe I got to marry the love of my life in my favourite place on earth.

So excited for the future with my little family

Much love, the Mounts 🤍

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y/n hubby 🥺 thank you for making me the happiest girl in the world. Meeting you has changed everything for me and I’ve never been more thankful to have been stuck in a lift in my life You’re my whole heart you gorgeous man 🩷

masonmount finally get to call you my misses and you not have a go at me 😌

woody_ Parker was the best dressed man there and I don’t how to feel about that

masonmount I mean you could have put a bit more effort it mate

freyaaaxo @woody_ I thought you looked nice baby don’t listen him 🩷

woody_ @/freyaaaaxo 😘

kaihavertz29 happy for you man ❤️

masonmount 😘

declanrice brother ❤️ what a day!

masonmount love you bro, thank you for being there 🤜🏻🤛🏻

declanrice always bro ❤️

benchilwell Who’s that handsome man in picture number six 😏

masonmount 🙄

lukeshaw23 trust you to get married in Portsmouth I can’t believe you

masonmount what you on about? It’s the jewel of the uk. Plus I told y/n she could pick the honeymoon destination if we got married here

y/n marriage is about compromise after all 😌

#Mason mount #mason mount instagram au #mason mount one shot #mason mount fan fic #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #footballer fan fiction #a mountain to climb series

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pedropascallme · 1 year ago

Note

Your Toki writing is fantastic! You should write him more! Maybe a smut one shot where he's married and desperate to get his wife pregnant? 👀

Honeymooning

Pairing: Toki Wartooth x f!Reader

Summary: "Toki wanted kids. He wanted them bad."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, slightly dom!Toki (you're welcome), creampie. If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Eeeee thank you for the love <3 I love writing Toki content. This prompt had me...excited. To say the least. I thought I'd be able to make this a drabble but it is, in fact, almost 2K words. I'm not sorry!!

You had always pictured a small, intimate wedding ceremony; delicate floral arrangements and lace, a pianist to play you down the aisle, a handful of your closest friends to help you prepare for the event of a lifetime. It was your dream to get married, to find the person you were destined to be with and have a lavish but appropriate ceremony to honor the love you had found in each other.

Any semblance of traditionalist thought you had put into your dream wedding went out the window when Toki proposed to you. Immediately, the two of you decided to go all out. While there were some things at the wedding recognizable from your childhood fantasies—your loved ones there to support you, your dress lacy and with a long train, the flowers just the color you had wanted—it was something entirely new, and much more fitting for who you were now as an adult. There had been something kind of funny about seeing the rest of the band act so dapper; they promised to behave for a whole 24 hours to ensure that the wedding went off without a hitch. Nathan had even worn his glasses in order to watch the vows closely from his spot at Toki’s side, and Skwisgaar didn’t throw in any veiled insults in his best man speech. And the whole time, Toki was squeezing your hand, eyes glued to you in admiration and disbelief that he finally had everything he wanted.

Almost everything.

Having had a more than tumultuous childhood and a lack of parental support, Toki had often considered what he would’ve done had he been in his parents’ shoes. The answer was never one laced with vengeance, rather he dreamt of caring for someone small and providing for them in the way he had always dreamed to be looked after. Toki wanted kids. He wanted them bad.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t known this; there had been conversations between the two of you for God only knows how long about what you wanted your future together to be like, and it always included starting a family. You knew financially you would be fine, but both of you felt it would be best to wait until you were married to really start trying.

And your honeymoon did take place after you were married.

Toki all but threw you onto the sprawling mattress. Maybe after having traveled the world so much with the entirety of Dethklok, Italy wasn’t so much a destination vacation as it was a week away in a familiar location, but you couldn’t deny the beauty that surrounded you—especially the beauty that was your now-husband as you watched him lift up and discard his shirt, tossing it into a corner and revealing his toned torso. You picked yourself up from off your back, crawling forward on the mattress to splay your hands over his stomach.

“This what you were thinking about during our vows?” You kissed down past his belly button and over his thin happy trail.

“Maybes,” he sighed, “but only halfs as much as I thoughts abouts how much I loves you.” You stopped just above the button of his pants to give him a kiss before leaning back to undo his fly. He pulled your hands away and grappled with you until you both fell back on the mattress in a heap of giggles.

“I’m trying to be sexy!”

“You can’ts gives a blow jobs now! It ams our first times as a married couples!” He buried his face into your neck, giving you small kisses that slowly turned more sensual as he began to suck on your skin. His hand made its way past the waistband of your panties—the rest of your clothes long forgotten somewhere near the front door—and he toyed with your clit. “Wants to loves you like this,” he whispered into your neck between opened mouth kisses, “wants to makes you feels good. Puts a baby in you.” You gasped at the combination of his words and the way he felt rubbing against your needy, swollen bud.

“Mhm,” you moaned, arching your back to allow two of his fingers to enter you smoothly, “want—wanna see how pretty I lo-ok, full of your cum?” Your question came out breathy, not at all in the teasing tone you had intended, but you couldn’t care less as Toki’s fingers eased in and out of you.

“Yeah,” Toki moaned, and you moved your hand to squeeze the hard length growing in his jeans. He tilted his head back at the sudden attention he was receiving before his mouth dropped open at your ministrations. “Wants you dripping.” You gave him another squeeze before you felt your legs shaking, thighs clenching together around his hand as his fingers ruthlessly played with the spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Mouth open, you intended to thank him, but there was no time before he attached his lips to yours and started peeling off the remainder of your clothing. He looked at you, curled up on the bed below him as he stripped off his pants, freeing his painfully hard cock and moving to cover you in kisses once more.

“How do you wants it?” He teased, his cock brushing over you. “How do you wants me to fills you up?”

“However you want.” You were giddy in anticipation, opening your legs to him before he had even decided how he wanted to fuck you. He took it as an opportunity, settling himself between your legs and letting his cock rest just above where you needed him. You felt his precum staining your stomach and it made you feel a lightheaded rush of excitement and arousal.

“My wife,” he took himself in his hand, rubbing his tip against your dripping hole, “so prettys.” He pushed into you all the way, the entirety of his cock stretching you out delightfully and making you scream out for him. “Feels good?” It wasn’t really a question, more of a mocking observation at the way your face contorted with each long, hard thrust.

You gave a string of gibberish in response, moaning each time you felt him slip out just enough to feel close to empty before he rammed back into you. “Fuck, Toki, fu-ck!” You were on the precipice of another orgasm, but he pulled out of you and turned you over, giving your ass a sharp smack as you moaned in disappointment and need.

“Be patients,” he spanked you again, sliding his cock over the curve of your ass, “you’ll gets whats you wants.”

“Need it, Toki!” You felt pathetic, lifting your ass up and wiggling in an attempt to sway him to fill you up again. “Need it…” It was a good thing Toki liked seeing you pathetic; your begging was cut short by his hands spreading you open for him as he pushed himself back into you, drawing a moan from you both before he began an unrelenting pace. He pulled your hair into a messy, makeshift ponytail, pulling you up closer to him and making your back curve to give him more leverage to fill your greedy cunt. “There!” You were close to tears, the overwhelming pleasure your husband provided coursing through your veins, “R-ight there, Toki! Please!” You collapsed onto your arms and face as the force of his thrusts became almost too much to handle; you felt your body move forward with every snap of his hips and you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“Rights there?” He teased, giving you a particularly deep thrust and keeping himself sheathed inside of you while you squirmed underneath him, helpless and loving it. You responded with a muffled “yes,” before he began to move again, slower now but just as deep. “Whats do you wants?” He was trying to ward off his own climax by slowing himself down and goading you into begging for more.

“Wan-want to…” You felt your eyes roll back when he began to rub your clit slowly in time with his thrusts.

“Whats?” He demanded.

“Wa-need you to-please Toki, I need it.” The tears you had been attempting to hold back now spilled over your eyes and onto the sheets below you.

“Speak clearlys.” If you hadn’t been so distracted, maybe you would’ve pointed out the irony of his sentence, but you were too far gone and did as instructed.

With all your focus, you mustered the proper words to get what you were so desperate for: “Please To-ki, want you to cum in me,” he pushed himself in further and you cried out, burying your face into the blanket you were clutching. “Please! Please, fill me up—fuck!—fill my pussy up so deep. Wanna have your—have your fucking kids.” You choked on your words as he sped up, throwing you back onto his cock as he brought you both toward your highs.

“Fills you up so goods.” You heard him groaning. He pulled you back by your hair and wrapped an arm around your waist. Now gripping you tightly against him, he used his other hand to grab your face, kissing you and whispering to you. “Gonna takes it? Gonna say thanks yous?”

“Yes! Please, yes!” You repeated the same two words over and over, and with a long, deep thrust into you, you felt yourself go limp in Toki’s arms. Had it not been for his grip around you, you surely would have fallen flat onto the mattress. Toki continued to fuck you through your orgasm as it tore through you; you felt heavy and light simultaneously, seeing black and white shine through both eyes while you chanted his name. At last, panting and sweaty, you uttered a weak, “please, Toki,” and he gave you what you both craved. You felt his hips stutter against your ass as he came, painting your insides with his cum. You felt warm and tired, but now with a regained pleasure coursing through you. Eyes closed, you felt yourself move and realized Toki had maneuvered you to lie down, still buried inside you. You could feel the stickiness leaking out around his cock and onto your thighs, and his chest heaving into your back.

Slowly, you eased him out of your now sensitive, sticky hole and turned to face him. He was smiling wide, tongue between his teeth. He kissed you passionately, deeply, before his hand wandered down to your pussy and began pushing what had leaked out of you back inside. You gasped, grabbing at his forearm while he playful nipped at you. Pulling his fingers out of you, he stuck them in his mouth to suck off any remnants and then curled up around you, kissing your shoulders, face, neck, and anywhere else he could reach in the position you found yourselves in.

“I loves you.” Toki whispered, kissing your forehead. “My wife, pretty ladys, I loves you. So perfects. Going to be a greats moms.” He kissed the top of your ear, then your cheek, and then finally he gave you a kiss on the lips.

“Do you think it worked?” You smiled, soaking in the adoration of his words.

“Maybes,” he pushed his hair out of his face, propping himself up next to you on his elbow, “but maybes we should try one more times. Or two.”

You pulled him back down again.

#toki wartooth #toki wartooth smut #toki metalocalypse #toki x reader #toki wartooth x reader #toki x you #toki wartooth x you #metalocalypse smut #metalocalypse fanfic #metalocalypse #hehe send me asks

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insomniumstella · 2 years ago

Text

spite her, spite me (7) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky, smut MDI

word count: 8,485

author's note: i cannot believe we reached the end — thank you for all of the comments and the love you've showed this series, it truly means the world! also, i don't know how the nsfw section stretched to be over 2k words and now i'm rethinking every smutty fic i've ever written

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series’ SPOTIFY playlist

“The dress is a bit much,” the sergeant’s eyes raked over her gown.

The intricately beaded dress was black, and sensual, and outrageous, with a deep slit, which exposed most of y/n’s upper thigh. She might’ve seemed like an angel in devil’s clothing to those of unsuspecting eyes, but James understood better. The woman was a fallen saint, and as he committed the image to memory, he had decided that she was placed on this earth solely to tempt him in every way she could. Their story was never destined to be comforting, and easy, no, the story of James and y/n would always be difficult, complex, and shamefully sinful.

“It seems Maui had been harsh on you, James,” she spoke, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

The cool touch of his metal arm brushed against y/n’s skin when he took a step forward, coming to stand beside her. It was bothersome, the closeness of his body as they observed the gala’s guests unsuspectingly dancing, drinking, or conversing about matters they had deemed important.

There was only a single matter on her mind y/n considered meaningful, and she had not seen him for the entirety of the night. Steve had been a nimble shadow, shaking hands with the leaders and first ladies of the world.

“Perhaps, I was wrong,” the word felt foreign on his tongue, “and HYDRA ceased to exist.”

She angled her face to read his expression, but it was aggravatingly blank, “how’d you figure that out, Sherlock?”

James noticed the sarcasm in her tone and nearly chose to ignore it, “reviewed some files, checked a couple databases,” possibly hacked into Sam’s iCloud to read the texts between you two. "Have any more theories you’d like to share?”

She chuckled, then chuckled again from the bewilderment before breaking into a boisterous laugh; it couldn’t have been more disingenuous if she tried. “Why should I if the Winter Soldier will only trample on my ideas?”

Though the dimly lit ballroom overflowed with chatter and soft sounds of jazz, a tense stillness settled between them. The looming threat of Steve’s assassination was not a time for games and stubbornness, and James was frustrated at the spy’s thorny attitude.

“The Winter Soldier was blinded by bloodlust, but he’s ready to hear out his partner,” Bucky replied with a deep sigh, hoping she’d crack.

“Oh, we’re partners now?” The clench of his jaw didn’t go unnoticed, and she begrudgingly dropped the act. “Back when we attended Elijah’s yacht party, Mark was wary of you hence the fish tend to be vigilant around James comment. I might forget a name, but I always remember a face.” This time, she angled her entire body to face him. “Mark attended a gala in Germany a couple years prior, Steve had me monitoring the security cameras for hours then, and nothing was particularly interesting except for Mark and Wilfred Nagel’s unlikely friendship.”

“Shit,” his flesh arm clasped around her forearm, “ Nagel’s the doctor CIA had recruited before he seemingly disappeared into thin air.”

“Bingo,” she replied with a popping sound. “The accusations against Elijah, Mark’s presence on the boat, and the conversation between him and Wilfred months before Wilfred’s disappearance had me conceptualizing a theory of Mark and Elijah working alongside Nagel to produce super-soldiers.” A server boy approached the couple, and she promptly replaced her empty champagne flute with a fresh glass. “I’d assume Captain America would ruin those plans."

“The theory’s still blurry,” James released the grip on her arm, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles of his black suit. “If they’re plotting to execute Steve, why wouldn’t they assassinate me as well?”

She drank him in — the sergeant’s black suit was made of satin, alike the dress shirt, matching her onyx gown. Perhaps he had willingly chosen to abstain from a tie, or perhaps, he had been too headstrong to admit she had been correct about HYDRA, subjecting James to a lack of time for elaborate preparations. She decided it must’ve been the latter, for Bucky had worn the outfit to a party Natasha had organized after the court had pardoned his crimes.

“They could,” she agreed, “but they wouldn’t because you’ve been forgiven and have since retired, remember? The Winter Soldier enjoys a peaceful life away from criminals, Avengers, and fights.”

“The sucker has a wife too,” James gawked into y/n’s eyes, and she tittered at his attempt at a joke. “She looks good tonight.”

The glimmer in his expression she couldn’t understand.

She took a swig of champagne, peering at James over the flute for a single awkward moment too long, “was that a compliment?”

“It should’ve been,” he pursed his lips together.

James was allowed to feel frustrated, angry, and disappointed about y/n’s actions, he had decided after she had packed up and hastily abandoned the honeymoon. The woman had betrayed him by hiding significant information and biting her tongue on theories of HYDRA and its remains. Worse, she had fled Maui without as much as a goodbye, leaving James to sleep in the bed, angrily alone. Though his appetite had been ruined, he had chosen to order room service and watch terrible TV shows she had recommended to Wanda in the prior months. The sheets had been tainted with the scent of y/n’s perfume and lotion, a delicious blend of strawberry and vanilla. The Lovers’ Suite had been scattered with traces of her, and when he had ditched the room at last, deep into the night, even the beach had seemed to remind James of the bizarre yet pleasant memories they had shared. He wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but he had begun missing y/n’s presence, prickly remarks, and the pointless arguments over the smallest of things.

“Steve’s backstage," Sam’s voice was a muffled sound through the earpiece.

She took a step forward, using Bucky’s body to shield herself from possibly prying eyes. “What about Mark Basso?”

James paled at the closeness of their bodies, but remained professional, examining the ballroom of feasible threats.

“I can’t find him, the dude’s been a ghost for the entire night, but,” there was a pause in his speech, “Elijah Williamson is backstage,” she could hear Sam drum his fingers on a metal surface, “they’ve been conversing for a good while.” A second passed before his words reached y/n’s ears once more. “Are you certain Mark’s appearance at the party is enough to incarcerate him?”

The woman recognized she should inform Sam of the situation without excluding certain details, and yet she couldn’t. If Sam understood the gravity of Elijah’s gala plans, he’d abandon monitoring the security cameras and would certainly place himself in danger to save the Captain. She needed the footage of the events that were to occur backstage, for she had already deceived James, allowing the soldier to believe HYDRA continued to exist.

The eight months they had spent together, unraveling Elijah’s life, had been honest, on y/n’s part, but the last five days had not. James had pursued false leads and theories, and she had let him. Sam might punish her with a harsh lecture, move to live on Natasha’s floor or stop coming to Friday’s Tequila Nights at Barry’s if he discovered y/n’s incomplete truths, but it’d be worth it, for he’d be in the security room in case Mark had planned to delete the footage. James deserved peace, and she craved to ease his mind two criminals at a time. A former HYDRA officer and a corrupt politician behind bars was a good start to rid of the nasty organization and its remains.

“The man’s a HYDRA operative,” she reminded, clutching James’ hand to lead him through the crowd of guests, “who just happens to be identified as deceased,” y/n maneuvered around people, dodging staff members and unsuspecting bystanders, “imagine the headlines and the public’s fear when it’ll get revealed the US government missed a dead man walking after the program to incarcerate security threats was implemented.” A corrupt program for a corrupt country. “President Ross would imprison Mark just to save face.”

The pair soon found themselves backstage. The stage was narrow much like the hallways, and though the space had plenty of overhead LED lights, it was painted a pitch-black color, and the confusing maze of corridors, entrances, and clothing racks seemed rather murky. She hauled James into the women’s bathroom and hurriedly locked the door. The soldier had seen women dragging men into bathrooms at clubs and parties. He was old, but he wasn’t dead — James understood what a couple would do in a bathroom together hence his confusion and reddened cheeks.

She raked her eyes over his face, “we’re not having sex, Barnes.”

“Is it because Steve needs saving or,” the smallest of smirks danced on his lips as James observed y/n step on the toilet to open a vent, “is it because you want our first time to be special?” Amusement colored his tone.

She threw a miffed glare toward him before continuing to rummage in the outlet, “do you actually believe I burn with lust for you?”

“Yes,” Bucky caught a pale yellow gym bag after she tossed it at him, “surely did during the honeymoon.”

“We’ll always have Maui,” she smiled with faux sweetness, stepping off the toilet and on the sparkling white tiles.

The smirk dropped from his lips at the comment because he had been open, honest then, and she just teased him about it. If time allowed for it, she might’ve apologized, guilt beginning to claw at her heart, but she ignored the strange emotion.

“Sam,” she pressed a finger on the earpiece before squatting down to search in the sack, “James is with me,” y/n found an additional earpiece, standing up and taking a step forward to gently attach the gadget onto the soldier, “do you have eyes on Steve?”

“Yes,” the Falcon murmured, audibly upset by Bucky’s presence. “James, hi,” he spoke through the intercom, “y/n, didn’t you say you'd leave the tin-man in Hawaii?”

“Obviously, I failed,” she replied, earning a soft smack from James on the shoulder, “when does the charity auction start?”

“It should begin in fifteen minutes,” Sam spoke, inspecting the view on the monitors, “an incredible date with Amelie Barnes, a gorgeous New York City socialite, is fifth on the list to be auctioned, seven offers before the old-fashioned date with the handsome Captain America.”

She glanced up at James, studying his bewildered expression. “There might be a few things you’ve missed,” y/n grinned in faux innocence before promptly clarifying, "we needed access to the backstage areas. Do you have a gun?”

“No,” James begrudgingly admitted, ashamed to have missed a crucial detail in his attire.

The pair stood in front of each other without a sliver of space in between. She didn’t give herself a minute to think the action through, resting her hands on his chest as she hastily lowered into a squatting position to reach the bag. James sucked in a breath as y/n’s hands slid across the length of his body. She rested a single palm on his upper thigh for balance while she retrieved a set of pistols, but just before his mind had enough time to register the sudden stimulation, she arose, clutching his flesh bicep to steady herself.

“Tuck it into the waistba—“

“Alright,” James interrupted her, “I’ve done this before.”

She let go of his shoulder, taking a step backward. “There’s no need to be rude,” y/n shrugged.

“I’m not being rude,” he rebuffed the comment, “just worried about where you’re planning to hide the gun.”

A slight smile waltzed on her lips as she pushed the bottom of her gown aside, faintly exposing lacy onyx panties and a holster. James choked, once, at the obscenity of her response.

“I’ve done this before,” she teased him, “sergeant.”

The charity auction had been a distant thought until she was standing on the stage with dozens of eyes upon her. She could hear the voice of the auction's host, describing the date she’d be forced to attend and the chatter of middle-aged men, hoping to secure the evening with Amelie Barnes, but y/n could only focus on searching for Mark in the crowd.

Nancy wouldn’t have lied to someone about Elijah and Mark’s wicked plans because the lawyer had zero motives to deceive a person she trusted. At least the woman hoped Nancy trusted whoever it had been on the other side of the phone because her whole plan revolved around Mark’s appearance at the gala. She’d never wish for Steve’s untimely death, but she did wish for the HYDRA operative and the politician to be caught on camera as they attempted to eliminate him.

“Let’s start the bidding at a thousand dollars,” the host announced, and she swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat.

A man on the left side of the ballroom raised his bid paddle. He seemed utterly too old to take y/n out on a date, and she shivered at the possibility.

The host beside y/n smiled, peeking at her. “We have a thousand, can we get more?”

“Two thousand!”

“Three thousand!”

“Five thousand dollars!”

She could barely register the number of voices, each interrupting the next to outbid the other.

A woman, close enough to the stage that she could see her face, raised the paddle. “Ten thousand dollars!”

“Ten thousand dollars for the woman in a green gown,” the presenter spoke cheerfully. “Amelie loves art galleries and tennis at The River Club of New York!” He encouraged the guests to aim higher. “The woman’s a real good company."

What the fuck did Sam tell them?

If she had ever thought that time spent in James Buchanan Barnes’ proximity must have been the worst thing the world could possibly offer, which she often would, she had been wrong. She was a spy, she had undoubtedly used her appearance to obtain certain information or opportunities on missions before, but the auction caused goosebumps to waltz on her skin — to be suppressed into an object, the perfect accessory for a date night, was one of the worst emotions she had ever experienced.

James stood in the back, observing her panic-riddled expression. She had forgotten Tony’s credit card in Maui on accident, and though Tony would skin him alive if he spent as much as a dime on it, Tony and James had never been close buddies, so what further damage could his impending action legitimately cause if the damage of the two’s past had already been irreversible.

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” James raised the bidding paddle, grinning at y/n.

She stood on the stage perplexed at the sound of Bucky’s voice, frantically searching for his face in the sea of people.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we just got our highest bid of the night! Fifteen thousand dollars for the man in the back going in one, two, th-“

“Thirty grand for the man in blue.” A deep voice reverberated through the room.

She abandoned her search for James, locking her gaze on Mark. The spy had inspected the crowd once, then had inspected it for a second time, and the agent had not been comfortably sitting at a nearby table, peering at her through the top of his champagne flute. Mark must have sneaked in, which signified that either Steve was already dead or Elijah was waiting for Mark backstage, conversing with Captain America before commencing the plan of a brutal murder.

“Forty,” James challenged, studying in which direction y/n’s disgusted glance pointed.

“Fifty thousand,” Mark announced before the host had a chance to say anything, continuing to scrutinize her. The agent’s smile was cocky, overconfident, almost as if she was the victim and he was the hunter; as if he had discovered y/n’s deepest and darkest of secrets.

“Fifty thousand going in one, two—“

“A hundred thousand dollars,” James yelled, interrupting the ghost, and maneuvered to stand by the stage.

Silence settled upon the room at the sheer absurdity of his proposed bid. The truth was, the sergeant had spoken before he could think because the world, at that moment, had not existed outside the gala. She was standing on the platform, the glitter in her special lotion, as she’d describe it, glimmering underneath the fiery spotlight. She was clad in an opulent gown, dripping in pearlescent onyx beads and intricate patterns. She was reduced to nothing but an object in the auction, a good company auction's participants could purchase.

She, the woman who’d never become a friend, for he’d always crave to be her lover.

The spy averted her piercing gaze away from Mark and glanced at James. Concern was visibly displayed in his eyes, yet his grin, sweet and playful to steady her nerves, remained. A corner of her mouth quirked up, and she mouthed a silent thank you. James was attempting to outbid every person in the room to save y/n from a terrible date, and he was willing to do it in understanding that Tony would lecture, if not evict, him.

The moment shattered as she returned her eyes to Mark, and her expression turned deadly. The spy might have played the role of an obedient, pleasant wife and woman on Elijah’s boat, but it was apparent he had acquired some kind of insight into who she verily was. It was useless to pretend she desired to be friends with Mark, a positively unsuspicious Elijah’s friend, who just happened to surprisingly specialize in foreign weaponry.

“This is shockingly incredible,” the host trumpeted in amazement, pausing for a second, “a hundred thousand dollars for the man in the satin suit going in one, two, three.” Mark basked in the daggers she sent toward him, sipping on his second glass of champagne as James glided onto the stage, clasping y/n’s fingers in his gloved hand, and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “The date with Amelie Barnes has just been sold to the guy in a lovely suit,” James and y/n exchanged amused looks at the host’s comment, “but don’t abandon your seats just yet ladies and gentlemen, because up next we have a cooking lesson at Daniel with the beautiful chef Olivia Stroud.”

“Thank you,” she softly acknowledged his sacrifice at the auction, "for what you did back there."

The pair hid behind heavy velvet curtains, a hairsbreadth away from each other, occasionally peaking through the crack to inspect the limited backstage area for Mark or Elijah. It slightly resembled a room suited for rehearsals, mimicking the layout of the ballroom and the stage on a lesser scale. The space was cluttered and messy, with tangles of cords littering the floor and racks of clothing lining the walls.

A date with Steve was the last to be auctioned before the break, establishing the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard and without innocent eyes around to witness the gory sight of Captain America’s murder.

James smiled, shyly almost. “I couldn’t allow myself to watch and do nothing while creepy old men fought over a chance to spend time with Amelie,” he teased, adjusting a fallen strap of y/n’s gown, “my hatred for you doesn’t stretch that deep.”

Heat crawled up her neck and onto her cheeks. “Bucky, you are an old man,” the woman teased, “perhaps not creepy, but weird? Absolutely.”

“I’m not weird,” he argued, suppressing a smile, “you eat ice cream with pickles for toppings.”

False shock stained the edges of y/n’s expression, “it was one time, and I only tried it because Pepper affirmed it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.”

“Pepper was pregnant,” he reminded playfully, earning a light smack on the shoulder.

The two Avengers swiftly switched into vigilant agents at the sudden squeak of the door. It was Mark, who entered the room first, scanning over the area for unwanted people. Steve appeared in the room seconds later, an arm resting on Elijah’s shoulders as he vehemently laughed at something the politician had mentioned.

It would’ve taken a fool to miss the obvious problem at hand.

Steve was seldom intoxicated. She’d know, for she had spent too many gatherings attempting to outdrink the man without real success. Thor’s Asgardian mead was deadly to mortals but pleasantly kind to gods and super-soldiers alike. Earthly alcohol, contrariwise, was harsh on him; the taste delectable, the effects on Steve’s modified human body meager.

It abruptly struck y/n — guns signified blood, plenty of it, and an operative smart enough to fabricate files of his supposed status as deceased wouldn’t be reckless and leave a plash of evidence in the backstage area of a charity gala’s ballroom.

“Good news,” Sam’s voice echoed in the pair’s ears, “I have eyes on Steve,” he paused briefly, “bad news, Mark Basso and Elijah Williamson are plaguing the Captain.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by placing a tender finger on his lips. “Sam, how closely were you monitoring the security cameras?”

It was a simple question she hoped the Falcon wouldn’t take offense to.

He did.

“I was observing the monitors like a hawk, y/n.”

She refrained against an unnecessary comment and focused on the task, “and the video has audio?”

“Yes.”

She took a step forward, closing the barely existent gap between them, “Elijah and Mark must’ve spiked his drink,” y/n hushedly whispered, circling a hand around James’ waist to touch the handgun she had provided.

The pistol was securely tucked into the waistband of his trousers, and the sergeant cocked his head to the side. I’ve been on missions before, the glimmer in his eyes stated, and she could sense the early stages of his frustration, I didn’t accidentally drop it or nothin’.

“At any point, did you notice Steve drinking a whiskey he had not ordered himself?”

“Alright,” Sam clicked his tongue, “so I might not have an answer to that particular question, but I can say that Steve went into the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and his face seemed quite pale.”

James placed a finger on the gadget, “did anyone accompany him?”

“Yes, a line of beautiful ladies,” the Falcon responded, and James could nearly visualize Sam rolling his eyes in annoyance.

The two men bickered some more, but she had tuned out the conversation, studying the scene onward. Everyone has a tell, y/n recalled. Though Steve’s words regarded lies and treacheries, the advice had not yet lost its meaning. It had been New Year’s Eve when she had gotten a nasty infection and had forgone Thor’s mead due to antibiotics. The compound’s residents had partaken in a friendly drinking competition then, and Steve had sworn the alcohol couldn’t exhilarate him, except his eyes had been droopy, and he had clutched James’ biceps for balance.

Steve leaned on Mark, his laugh far less joyous than it had been before, so perhaps Nancy had been wrong, and they had not planned to eliminate him at the gala, but rather drug the Captain, sneakily transporting his unconscious body to a place, devoid of prying glances and curious endeavors. She wondered whether Elijah would linger in the room until the poison took its course. It’d be easier to carry dead weight, for Steve might fight against the operation.

The plan was meticulously calculated except for a single nuance. Why would the two men bring Steve into the backstage area in the first place if they could’ve used the narrow hallways and hidden exits to sneak out?

“We should slaughter Wilfred.” Mark spoke as if answering y/n’s concerns. “I specifically told Nagel he cannot be late.”

“It’s a slight blunder,” Elijah replied, oblivious to the surroundings, and the woman behind the velvet material, around him. Steve was barely awake. “We have Rogers and a bit of time before he’s supposed to appear on stage.”

It was impossible to ignore James’ piercing eyes, and she hastily peeped at him. “Do we wait?”

And she craved to have the correct response to his question, but, despite her usual confidence during missions, she didn’t have an answer. James had allowed her to lead, and she felt as if she was disappointing him, lingering behind a curtain as the Captain, a friend, clutched the very enemies they wished to incarcerate. The only thing y/n understood in great certainty was that Steve’s body couldn’t leave the premises of the establishment.

“Did you see Mark or Elijah on the phone at any point in the night?”

“Mark was a ghost,” Sam’s voice crawled through her earpiece, “but I distinctly remember Elijah in a heated conversation. The man arrived at the gala with his wife, presumably, and scuttled away into a lonely corner soon after, which I found interesting.”

The former HYDRA operative’s phone dinged, and she lowered her hands to reach for the gun strapped to her thigh. Steve’s dormant body nearly hit the ground as he lost consciousness, and Elijah slithered his hands under Steve’s armpits to support the Captain’s weight. The woman’s heart clenched at the sight, of her confidante resting against Elijah’s chest like a heavy sack of potatoes, entirely unresponsive to the situation.

“Let’s move,” Mark clasped his ankles, and the unlikely allies hoisted Steve’s figure, “Wilfred messaged he’s awaiting outside.”

She could only comprehend Elijah's high-pitched shriek that rang in her ears, silencing the laughs, chatter, and footsteps sneaking into the space from the ballroom. James was the first to abandon the secure hiding spot behind the curtain, pointing his gun at the man, a stern expression on his face. A couple seconds passed before she trailed after him, shoving a pistol into Mark’s back as a threat. Steve’s body caused a harsh crash sound when it hit the ground, but she could only concentrate on Sam and the amount of time it’d take him to reach the ballroom backstage from the van parked outside.

“On your knees,” y/n instructed, firmly thrusting the gun against his skin.

The operative lazily raised his arms, making no effort to do as she had requested. “Amelie Barnes,” he chuckled, “what a stupid alias,” the situation didn’t afford contemplations on how he could’ve realized she was more than a homemaker, “though I must admit, I almost fell for the lovebirds' act by the way you two basked in each other on the boat.” Mark’s tone was tainted with smugness.

Elijah landed a painful punch on James’ jawline, and he staggered back at the surprise of the action before he straightened up and kneed him in the stomach.

She drew in a breath, “you’re wrong.”

The operative ignored the politician and the fight he seemed to be losing, “am I?”

She jabbed the pistol into his muscled back once more, hands quivering at the unspoken confession; it swallowed the room, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Get down on your knees,” she spat the warning.

“A dozen names,” he snickered, “and not a single true. Mindy Phillips, Tara Marvin, Katherine Bailey just to identify a few.”

“This is the last time I’ll repeat myself, get down on your fucking knees.”

“C’mon, y/n,” he spoke, lowering his arms a bit, “we can come to an agreement that’d satisfy both of us.”

She froze at the mention. The curiosity almost lured her into the biggest mistake she could make — playing along. “Elijah and HYDRA’s golden agent behind bars is the only agreement I’d be delighted about.”

Mark suddenly turned around, grasping one of y/n’s wrists, and she clobbered him across the head with the hand that was clutching the gun. He wobbled, momentarily, before he tackled her to the ground, thighs resting on either side of her own, and gripped y/n’s wrist once more. The gun landed by her, and she writhed in his hold to reach it, but it was useless. Mark harshly pinned her arms above her hand, leaning in so close she could feel his disgustingly hot breath upon the skin of her neck.

He snickered, grazing the top of her ear with his lips, “we could’ve worked together,” Mark lightly nipped at the sensitive spot, “could’ve been a real good team.”

She found his eyes, amused and eerily hungry, and spat in his face, “fuck you.”

Mark laughed, but before he could sputter another comment, James was pouncing on the agent, resting his entire weight on him just as Mark had done to y/n, mercilessly pummeling the flesh of his upper body.

She averted her gaze from the bloody sight, searching for Elijah. The politician was sprawled out on the cement floor, by Steve’s feet, unconscious. A huge gash tainted his bottom lip, and purple had begun tinting his cheekbones. She glimpsed at James and the small cuts that adorned his handsome face; Elijah must’ve stricken a few great hits before the sergeant had stunned him cold.

Sam barged through the door. Besides the Falcon, she was the only person in the room without visible injuries, though her joints ached from the pressure Mark had used to clutch them.

“I called reinforcement,” he spoke, kicking her gun to a corner Mark couldn’t reach.

“Care to help?” Bucky’s teasing comment amidst a fight was almost comforting.

Sam rolled his eyes, joining James in the scuffle with the agent. She focused on Steve, crawling to his dormant body. Though it was dreadfully faint, his heartbeat remained. It was difficult to raise the top half of his weight, yet y/n succeeded, supporting his neck and shoulders as she inspected the back of his head for damage. She gasped silently, noticing that the blonde of his hair had been stained red. The split in his skin wasn’t deep enough to be profoundly alarming, but it'd require stitches. Speedily, she checked the time on his watch, creating a mental note, and lowered his figure to rummage in his pockets for a cell phone. The Captain’s head she placed upon her folded legs.

The woman’s fingers trembled as she typed in the emergency number. In the years they had worked together, never had Steve fallen unconscious, nor had he obtained a gaping gash in the back of his scalp. Elijah and Mark must've given him an alarmingly high dose of tranquilizer to knock the super-soldier out entirely, and she was scared.

The two Avengers had handcuffed Mark when the call between y/n and the local emergency service had ended. The operator’s voice has been soothing and calm, and she had turned the iPhone off feeling far more composed than she had been when she made it.

“An ambulance should be here in a few minutes.”

“That was quite dramatic,” Mark noted, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips, “Steve ingested sedatives, not poison.”

James placed a gun to his temple, and Sam planted a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder, “don’t engage him,” the Falcon advised, turning to y/n, “did you know?”

She recognized Sam’s true question was did you know they planned to kill Steve?

“Yes,” she averted her gaze to observe Steve, “I’m sorry.” The spy was genuinely apologetic for hiding certain information.

Sam drew in a deep breath, pursing his lips together, “why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I needed you to monitor the security cameras,” she answered truthfully, “I needed someone to transfer the footage into our database,” the explanation was honest once more, “I was afraid Mark or Elijah would attempt to tamper with it.”

“She was right, we had a whole plan 'n' everything,” Mark chimed in, and James pushed him down to his knees.

He sighed in frustration, the pistol lingering in its position against Mark’s skin, “stay fucking quiet, asshole.”

The Falcon ignored the commotion in the background, his expression strained as he continued to stare at her, “you should’ve told us.”

The statement disintegrated into thin air, the weight of it still heavy on her shoulders. She stayed silent, brushing away the sweaty pieces of hair that had stuck to Steve’s forehead. His face was eerily peaceful as he rested, unconscious, on the cement floor, head propped on y/n’s thighs. The gown Sam had chosen for the evening was sprinkled with blood in various spots, albeit the dark color disguised it. It was gorgeous and elegant, she’d admit, but it was destined to burn after the events that had unfolded during the gala.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice drained of emotion.

“The two of you should return to the hotel,” Sam suggested when a group of FBI officers spilled into the room, “shower, eat, rest. I have zero doubts it’s been an exhausting week,” he half-heartedly joked, referring to the faux honeymoon, “I’ll stay with Steve.”

“Sam,” she spoke, “we want t—“

“Go,” the Falcon interrupted her, “please,” one of the officers firmly hoisted Mark, and James swiftly reached y/n’s kneeling figure, “I got this.” The tone of his voice had whispers of irritation at its edges.

“Alright,” she agreed, helping a paramedic transfer Steve’s body onto a stretcher, “I trust you.”

Sam glanced at James, shoving his hands into his pockets, and returned his eyes to y/n. “Good.” The look they exchanged was strangely comforting, the kind of look that conveyed Sam wasn’t angry, per se, but rather vanquished, and disappointment she could deal with.

She offered him a weak smile, “I should shower.”

The Falcon chuckled, mouthing a silent go, and turned his focus to James, both of you.

James stood in the hotel room’s doorway.

She was fidgeting with lavish jewels, her patience stretching thin as the necklace’s clasp remained closed despite y/n’s nimble fingers attempting to work it open. She glanced at him, once, before regaining focus. “Why are you here?”

The sergeant shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I forgot to book a hotel room.”

She ceased her movements, observing his awkwardness-laden body language. James’ long-forgotten suit jacket dangled over his bent arm, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his satin trousers.

“May I suggest driving back to the compound?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a small grin at y/n’s thorny response, “we’re in the middle of Manhattan, and the compound is a three-hour drive away.” James closed the heavy wooden door, locking it behind him. “Can I stay with you?”

“It seems you’ve answered the question before I had the chance,” she referenced the action, staring at him in forged disbelief.

The atmosphere stilled in a pregnant pause. It wouldn’t be harmless for the couple to sleep in the same bed. They had done it in Maui, and neither her skin had broken out in a rash nor had she perished. On the contrary, it was peaceful to relish in the warmth of his skin.

James dumped the jacket on an empty chair, slowly coming to stand in front of the woman. She could almost hear the thumping of his heart, his body a hairbreadth away. Sirens echoed outside the sealed window, saturating the silence in crimson sounds. New York City contrasted with the lush green of upstate New York. The living quarters at the compound were usually deprived of clamor, protected against harsh winds and white noise by thick cement walls.

“Let me help you,” James cooed, sliding his hands across the skin of her arms upward. The soft pads of his fingers caressed her collarbone before he grasped the necklace’s clasp and easily worked it open. “We could be great together,” he spoke, turning to gently place the diamond choker on a glass desk, “great partners,” her fingers ghosted over the spots James had touched, “great lovers,” he toyed with the idea.

The sergeant returned to his previous place and, “great lovers,” she teased, “you think we could fit together?”

“Mmmh,” he concurred, “but we always extinguish the flame before it truly burns.”

She brushed her hands across the smooth fabric of his dress shirt, savoring the firmness of his muscled chest beneath the textile. We always extinguish the flame before it truly burns. Perhaps James was correct — she had been opposing a traitorous fire within the deepest pits of her heart, and body, long before Wanda had a terrible idea to send the two on a faux honeymoon.

“Kiss me,” she spoke in an honest confession of lust.

“What?” James’ voice was breathless as he gawked at the woman in foreign excitement and disbelief.

Oh, the way he hoped she’d realize that the line between love and hatred stood thin, and they had surely blurred it in Maui, but never did James think she genuinely would. The fault was his, partially. It had been easy to fabricate false narratives for the compound’s residents, convince himself he loathed the woman despite the countless nights of wandering hands and shameful memories of her body. James had designed a malicious persona, but oh, the way he hoped she’d see through it.

“Kiss me,” she repeated, “because just once, I need to get you out of my system,” her hands slithered to his biceps, “kiss me, so the next time I’ll touch myself at night, it won’t be your face I’ll be seeing.”

James cupped the back of y/n’s neck, crashing their lips together. The world in the background ceased to exist at the moment. He swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, asking for permission, and she surrendered to the request, tangling her fingers in his copper locks. She gingerly pulled at the root, earning a muffled whimper from James, and he slid his metal arm down to y/n’s waist to bring the woman closer, to erase the barely existent gap between their bodies. She burned with arousal, and Bucky was equally as famished. It was only the lack of oxygen that pulled the couple apart, and James drew in a deep breath, capturing y/n’s lips once more seconds later.

It was a dangerous promise, the kiss. A wildfire that spread through the entirety of her body, stimulating every nerve ending until she was moaning into his mouth as a plead for more, tongues fighting for dominance. It knocked the air out of her lungs, and when she retreated, James didn’t meld their lips, opting to focus on y/n’s neck. He kissed, licked, and sucked the sensitive skin like a man deprived of the only thing he’s ever desired. She was a drug, and god, was James addicted to her scent and her silky skin, and her hands, sloppily untucking his dress shirt, to slide under the fabric and explore his taut muscles. Everywhere she touched scorched, and he messily searched for the zipper of her gown, discarding the dress to the ground as soon as the piece of metal relented.

She was the most beautiful sight James had ever seen as she stood in front of him in just a pair of lacy panties. Art, created by the world’s most talented of artists, an angel bestowed to him by the gods themselves.

The sergeant brushed his flesh thumb across her lower lip, blending their lips together. His metal hand, the one she had always disgracefully thought was outrageously attractive, slithered between her plush thighs, and James moaned into her mouth upon discovering that she was soaked and aching for him. He shifted the undergarment to the side for access, dragging his fingers through her silken folds.

Cool metal thumb pressed into her clit, and she broke the kiss, “inside,” she spoke, the tone of her voice laced with desperation, “I want you inside of me.”

“Sweet girl,” James chuckled, inserting a single digit into her slick heat, “you need to be stretched first.”

He thrusted his finger a few times before adding a second digit. She clenched around him, messily unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the carpeted floors. The pace of his thrusts remained steady and agonizingly slow as James basked in her pleasure-riddled expression.

The woman clutched the waistband of his trousers, messing with the belt, her fingers trembling as James continued to stroke the sensitive spot inside her with two of his fingers. “Please,” she muttered, “faster.”

A sly smirk waltzed on his lips at the request, but, instead of obeying y/n’s wishes, he halted the activity, removing his hand, and placed the metal in his mouth, sucking it clean, “such a sweet thing you are.”

Warmth crept up her neck and onto her cheekbones. He hastily removed the trousers, placing his hands on the back of y/n’s upper thighs, hoisting the woman, and gently tossed her onto the spongy bed. She stared at him through curious eyes, lowering her gaze to observe the bulge in his boxers, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Judging by the outline in his underwear, James was huge, far bigger than the men she had fooled around with in the past.

“I want to taste you,” she confessed, propping herself up on her elbows.

James shook his head no, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her onyx panties to tear them off, “next time, doll.”

She wasn’t certain whether there would be a next time, for James had discovered a side to her, she had long buried. An alter ego, who was submissive, and pliable, and starved for the touch of a man she described as her enemy.

James nestled between her legs, arms on either side of her waist, and placed chaste kisses on y/n’s mouth and jawline. His head dipped lower as he assailed her neck and chest, popping a nipple in his mouth. The sergeant sucked the sensitive bud before nipping on it, massaging her other breast with his hand and rolling the right nipple between his fingers.

She writhed under him, eyes shut from the waves of pleasure racing through her. James didn’t linger over the area, choosing to concentrate on kissing the length of y/n’s body as he crawled to situate himself betwixt her thighs. Goosebumps painted the path of his eager kisses, and she grasped a handful of his hair when James gave her clit a kitten lick to test the response.

“James,” she purred as he repeated the action and slithered two digits back into her dripping heat.

“Use your words,” he grazed his tongue over the bud again, applying a little bit more pressure, “tell daddy what you want.”

The woman’s eyes shot open at the term but then he was thrusting his fingers into her wetness, repeatedly hitting the delicious spot that made her toes curl, the insult toward James forgotten.

“Mouth,” she mumbled, too lost in the delectation to form a coherent sentence.

James snickered at her vague response, wrapping a pair of soft lips around y/n’s clit. The thrusting of his fingers persisted as he stimulated the area. James was spelling out his full name on her sex, she realized by the time he had started tracing a b for Buchanan, yet she abstained from further reflections, coming undone by his mouth and fingers seconds before James could complete tracing the s in Barnes.

“Good girl,” he praised, helping y/n ride out her orgasm.

James withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean of y/n’s stickiness before he removed the metal with a pop, and peeled off his boxers, flinging the garment across the space.

The room was modern and opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the ever-awake skyline of New York City, its sky-high buildings, impressive bridges, and countless lights. It was situated on the fortieth floor of the hotel, creating a perfect opportunity to indulge in a bit of a rush and leave the curtains wide open without a true risk of innocent bystanders witnessing the scene.

James kneeled on the bed. The usual glimmer of annoyance toward her in his eyes had been replaced by a feral kind of hunger, and, as she stared at him like a pray would observe its hunter, y/n decided that, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the first or the last time she’d let James treasure her body.

She loosely draped her forearms over his neck when he slanted to capture her nipple in his mouth, “I know you consistently ignore my wishes,” she whimpered, “but for the love of god, sergeant, I need you.”

He chuckled, showing attention to the other bud by pinching it, “my sweet girl wants to get filled, huh?”

James’ throbbing weight rested heavily against the skin of her thighs, and she reached down to palm it. “Yes.”

The woman’s nimble fingers caressed the reddened tip, spreading his precum on the surface before she dipped her hand a tad lower to gently fondle his balls. A moan escaped past his lips at her eager endeavor.

“I like it when you’re needy,” James pulled back and she groaned at the loss of him in her hands, “and dripping,” his fingers ghosted over the velvety folds before he was manhandling the spy to rest on her knees and forearms, “willing to let daddy take care of you.”

She ignored the name yet again but stored it within her memories to use for blackmail in the future. “Is he?” She questioned when Bucky clutched her hips and pushed his hand down on her back for a deeper arch. “Is daddy gonna fuck me, or is he just going to talk all night?”

James understood she only used the term to mock him, but shit, did it stir his already aching cock. He palmed himself twice before dragging his length along her slick folds, the metal hand abandoning her hips to circle her waist and gently rub y/n’s clit from behind. She clenched around emptiness, pressing into his pelvis for friction, and Bucky ceased his movements, removing the fingers from her bud to harshly grip the flesh of y/n’s hips once more. James continued the torture, lazily teasing her entrance, and she painfully sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.

“What do we say when we want something?” He taunted the woman, utterly enjoying her anguish.

“James,” she mumbled into the crisp sheets.

The soldier found amusement in the warning but showed mercy, sinking into her sodden heat. He’d fuck the brat out of her on a different day.

A strained whimper escaped past her lips at the delicious stretch of his cock, matching Bucky’s hiss at the way the spy’s walls drunk him in. James thrusted into her a few times, experimenting with speed and rhythm. A particularly rough roll of his hips seemed to rip a piercing moan from y/n’s throat, and he grinned, abandoning the hold on her hips to massage her clit again.

The room was saturated in vulgar noises of skin slapping against skin, moans, and desperate whines as James mercilessly pounded into her. She sobbed into a pillow as he led her to the edge for the second time, refusing to burst the bubble and let the flame consume her, thick fingers retreating just before the orgasm could ignite her body, over and over again.

James consumed every shallow breath and every wail, deciding that it would not be the last time he’d listen to the melody — she was a sin he’d gratefully burn in hell for, and an angel he’d break down heaven’s gates to attain. The soldier suddenly removed himself from her, already missing y/n’s silken walls squeezing around him, and shifted the woman, so that she rested on her back. He captured her ankles, draping them over his shoulders before he roughly thrusted back in. She wept at the overstimulation when he bottomed out, balls slapping against the skin of her ass. The new angle allowed James to reach far deeper.

He groaned, “you’re so tight,” thumb brushing against her plush lips, “my sweet, sweet girl,” he cooed, “wanna worship this pussy all night.”

And in his head, the statement stood true, but it was his body that opposed it, his arousal steadily creeping over the edge of an orgasm.

She shut her eyes, expression drenched with pleasure, “I’ma cum,” she moaned.

“I know, doll.” James wiped off the tear threatening to roll down her cheek and captured y/n’s lips in a messy kiss.

“It feels good—,” she hiccuped when he pulled away, “—so good.”

The world stilled. It was only James’ ragged breath and the heavenly orgasm she could focus on, washing over her body in syrupy waves and causing her toes to curl into the mattress below. She raked her nails over the skin of his back, leaving scorching marks in her wake.

“Shit,” James cursed as his own peak approached, his strokes sloppy.

It was a few thrusts later when he climaxed, painting her velvety walls white with a loud moan. He licked a sensitive spot on y/n’s neck, propping himself up on his forearms when the thunderous arousal began to quiet.

She brushed the hair that had gotten stuck to his sweaty forehead aside, “we don’t have evidence to convict Nancy,” she spoke when her heartbeat steadied.

James sighed amusedly, pulling out his softened length and maneuvering to lay beside her. “This is what you say after we just had sex for the first time?”

“Yes,” she deflected, refusing to admit she had fallen for the soldier and that it would not be the only time they’d get tangled in the sheets.

“Alright,” he abandoned the bed with a laugh and gathered y/n’s exhausted body in his arms to locate the bathroom, “but let’s shower before we talk shop.”

James observed the skyline of New York City. It was the place they had first encountered one another, back when he had brutally stabbed the woman. She rested on his bare chest now, peacefully asleep, soft snores falling from her lips. Times have changed, James realized with a heavy heart because change was uncertain and scary. It was worth it, though, if it meant the sergeant could love her up close and without barriers between them. It’d surely take a while to erase the tainted memories of the past, but they had been at war for five years, and he’d happily spend another five falling in love.

An iPhone James had recently purchased dinged with a text.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: guess Wanda and I won’t have to sleep with our eyes open after all:)

His mouth curved into a smile, elated Steve had not only woken up but was cracking jokes over the situation he had forced Bucky into.

WHITE WOLF: debatable.

It was not debatable — Steve and Wanda sending the couple on a honeymoon in Maui was the best decision they could’ve made, for the moon found his sun at last.

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samyaanholidays · 8 months ago

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nicoline1998enilocin · 1 year ago

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I'm so in love with your tony stark one shot 😍 he's so perfect and in love and the best man in the world, and the proposal was the cutest thing ever... can I request a honeymoon sex with tony and fem reader? A very very romantic and sweet sex in a place very cold so they can bond by the fireplace after the sex and a cute aftercare 🥹

I would give my life to be his wife ❤️

Baby, it's cold outside

PAIRING | Husband!Tony Stark x Wife!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 3.7K

SUMMARY | You've just gotten married to the love of your life, and are currently on your honeymoon in one of the most beautiful countries of the world. The scenery you're looking over is absolutely breathtaking, but your husband is doing everything he can to take that breath away in all different kinds of ways. And of course, there will also be lots of snuggles in front of the big fireplace too.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Age gap (Reader is in her late 20’s, Tony is in his late 30’s), smut [ Daddy kink, teasing, nipple play, oral (F&M receiving), handjob, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), multiple orgasms, squirting, lots of praise/praise kink ], light swearing.

A/N | Hi Nonnie, thank you so much for the amazing request! I'm glad to see you liked this one shot, and I'm absolutely ecstatic to work on this amazing request of yours! And let's be honest here, he would absolutely make one hell of a husband! 🖤

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist

''I do,'' you say, and Tony slides the gorgeous wedding ring you picked out together over your finger. You can't get the smile off your face even if you wanted to, this moment is absolutely beautiful. This, right here and right now, is the beginning of the rest of your life as Mrs. Stark. More specifically, Y/N Stark-Y/L/N. ''I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss your bride!'' your officiant says and before you can even comprehend what just happened, you feel your husband's lips on yours, and it feels exactly like the first kiss you ever shared, like fireworks are going off all around you.

When the two of you part you're looking into the eyes of the man you've been dying to marry for months now, and you couldn't be happier. The rest of the night went by in a blur, and before you knew it, you were on his private jet on the way to your honeymoon destination. ''So... Are you going to tell me where we will be going?'' you ask as you're sitting on his lap, your thighs straddled on either side of his. His hands have found their home on your ass where he always puts them so lovingly, and you're so close your noses are almost touching.

''I don't think so, little Angel. I want it to be a surprise after all,'' he says before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. The two of you haven’t been able to keep your hands off each other ever since you were pronounced husband and wife, but you also made a promise to each other to wait until you were at your honeymoon destination to make your wedding official by sharing your first time as husband and wife. You had many talks about how that first time would play out, and both of you had lots of fun fulfilling those plans at the same time.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stark, we will arrive at our destination in approximately 30 minutes, we are preparing for the landing,” the pilot said, and you were getting very impatient and curious. “Daddy, please! I need to know where we’re going!” You say with a pout on your face, and that immediately got his attention. “Don’t even think about it before we arrive, or else you will be punished,” he says with a dark look in his eyes, and as much as you’d love to see what he would do to you, you decide to stop it for now. “Sorry,” you whisper and you nuzzle your face in his neck, wanting to be as close to him as possible right now.

He rubs his hands over your back in random patterns and it relaxes you completely, you haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time. “I love you so much, Honey Bee,” he says and he gives a small kiss on your forehead. “Love you too, Babe,” you say and the rest of the flight is spent whispering sweet nothings to each other as you’re cuddled up in a warm embrace. All Tony told you is to pack warm clothing, and you did but not before Tony let you pick out practically an entire new winter wardrobe. “I want nothing but the best for my gorgeous wife-to-be,” he told you when you went shopping for your honeymoon.

And now, the time is here, you’ve let Tony go to put on your brand new winter coat and your snow boots because you were going to need them. “Are you ready to see where we will be spending the next three weeks together?” He asks and you eagerly nod. “Yeah!” is all you say before Tony swings open the airplane door and you’re hit by the cold air from the outside, and you’re more than ever glad you’re wearing earmuffs. “Welcome to our beautiful home in the Swiss Alps!” Tony says as he leads you out of the plane and towards the huge house in front of you.

“Did you say-“ “Yes I did, Honey Bee. We own this gorgeous house in front of you, it’s all ours. Or more specifically yours since I got it put in your name when I bought it not too long ago,” he says and you’re completely gobsmacked at his confession. You own a huge house - or a mansion, even - and you didn’t even know about it. Now it starts to make sense why he didn’t tell you, he bought it for you and wanted to surprise you with it. “Happy honeymoon,” he said and you quickly turned around, crashing your lips onto his as you didn’t have the words to tell him how you feel right now.

After Tony has shown you the entirety of the house, the two of you have finally found your way to the master bedroom, and it is gorgeous, with an amazing view over the Swiss Alps. You have excused yourself to the en suite to change into the white lingerie you bought especially for this moment, and you can't wait for Tony to see how it looks on your body. When you have it on you look at yourself in the mirror and are enjoying yourself from every single angle, not wanting to wait any longer because all you want to do is make sweet love to your husband.

''Are you ready, Baby?'' you ask as you pull the door open slowly. ''Yes, I am, Honey Bee. I can't wait to see what you're wearing right now,'' he says, he already took off his clothes except for his underwear, and he was sitting on the bed with a single white rose in his hands. He turned on some soft music to add to the romantic atmosphere, and he finished it off with some candles lit throughout the room, giving it an almost ethereal glow. When you walk out you hear his breath hitch in his throat and you can't help but chuckle at it. ''I guess that means you like what you're seeing, huh?'' you tease as you slowly walk over. ''Fuck, you know I do Honey Bee,'' he says and when you're at the edge of the bed, he takes your hand and guides you between his legs.

''This is for you, my beautiful wife. This will be the first of many more roses that I will give you throughout the rest of our lives together. With this rose I promise you that you will always be mine, and I will always be yours. I love you, Y/N, and I plan on showing you every single day in everything that I do. And right now, I would like to start showing you how much I love you by taking you apart little by little until nothing is coming out of your mouth but my name,'' he says and with that, he strokes up your arm and towards your neck so he can pull you toward himself and capture your lips in a sweet, loving and gentle kiss. Neither of you was in a hurry, and you were going to take every last minute you have to make each other feel more loved than ever before.

When you pull apart you get the rose out of his hand and you put it on the nightstand, so it won't get damaged. ''C'mere Honey Bee,'' he says and he makes sure you can straddle his lap, your thighs on either side of his, your chests touching as your head is lulled onto your shoulder due to the loving kisses Tony is placing on your neck. When he reaches your pulse point he gives it a little more attention since he knows that's your sweet spot, and soft moans keep leaving your mouth. Your hands are wrapped around his biceps and they squeeze softly to keep you grounded, your hips slightly rolling against his erection.

Now that the two of you could finally enjoy each other in every single way, you weren't planning on leaving any part of the other untouched, unkissed, or unloved. Tony's hands moved from your waist down to your hips and onto your butt, his hands kneading the flesh with both hands as his mouth continued its way down to your chest, where his hands soon joined as you leaned back a little, giving him the access he's looking for. His hands slide the straps of your bra down and off your arms, followed by the hooks on your back revealing your pebbled nipples to him from the attention he already gave you so far.

Your bra found its way onto the floor as you were completely and utterly wrapped up in bliss, Tony is giving soft kisses all over your breasts, except for the place where you’re so sensitive, where you needed his touches the most. You could feel Tony smirk as you kept grinding your hips into him, getting the friction you’re longing for right now. “Daddy, please! Stop teasing me,” you softly whine and it only makes Tony smile bigger, he has you right where he wants you right now. You can feel him getting even harder when you say it and you know exactly what he’s thinking in this moment, you knew he was doing this just for you, and the pay-off would be immense.

“Patience, Honey Bee. All you need to do is be patient right now and I will give you everything you want, everything you’re craving right now,” he says, his voice slightly deepened from the arousal he’s feeling right now. “I-It’s hard, Daddy. Can’t be patient w-when you tease me,” you say and he chuckles. “I know, Honey Bee, just hold on a little longer. I know you can do it,” he says and in less than a minute his mouth has taken your sensitive nipple in your mouth, sucking on it to pull a loud from deep within your chest.

Of course, you know he’s right. Being patient will always give you nothing but pleasure, but sometimes it was just difficult to wait when all you wanted to do is be filled up by him until you can’t think anymore. He keeps sucking on your nipple until it is nice and hard, which is when he sinks his teeth into it softly just the way you like, another loud moan escaping your lips, your hips involuntary grinding into his, the friction almost being too much right now. You’re getting close to your orgasm and you can almost taste it at this point. You need just a little more from him and you will be pulled over that edge.

His fingers keep tugging and rolling your other nipple between his rough fingers and he can tell you’re getting close. He switches his movements and immediately sucks in your other nipple and that is enough to pull you over the edge, grinding into him harder the friction on your clit makes you a squirming mess as he holds you up. He helps you grind through your orgasm and when you’re back with him he captures your lips in his. “S’good Daddy,” you say when he pulls away, already getting a little cockdrunk besides him not even being inside you just yet.

“I’m gonna lay you down now, Honey Bee,” he says as he lifts you off his lap, and guides you to lay on your back, your legs immediately falling open in anticipation. Tony hums as he sees you laying like that, and he crawls up to you, giving you a deep kiss where the two of you explore each other's mouths as if it’s the first time you ever kissed as if the two of you want to commit every inch to memory. His hands move down to the edge of your panties and he swiftly pulls them down your legs.

When they’ve joined the small of clothes on the floor, he starts leaving a trail of small kisses over your cheek, jaw, neck, and chest until he reached your hips. When he’s there he starts giving open-mouthed kisses followed by his hands, your back arching slightly in anticipation as he’s getting closer to your heat, already dripping from your first orgasm. ''You're being perfect for me, Honey Bee,'' he says before finally attaching his mouth to your clit where he softly suckles a little bit, pulling some more moans and whimpers from you. ''I can listen to those gorgeous noises for hours,'' he says and you get a little flushed at his praise.

Before you can react to him you feel his tongue lay flat against your slit and licking a big stripe from your entrance to your clit, making your hips buck up and into his face involuntarily. Moans of his name keep flowing out of your mouth, as well as the occasional ''Daddy, yes, feels good!'' as he's bringing you to the edge of your next orgasm, his fingers never stopping their roaming and teasing of your nipples. ''Cum for me, be a good girl and cum all over Daddy's face,'' he says and just like that, your orgasm rips through you, making you see stars at the intensity of it. It is at this moment all words have officially left your brain, except his name.

''How're you feeling, Honey Bee?'' he asks and you just nod, because you can't bring yourself to talk yet. ''Aw, is Daddy's pretty girl already fucked stupid?'' he asks and you blush, trying to hide away your face but Tony won't let you. ''Don't hide away, Honey Bee, I'd love to see that gorgeous face of yours,'' he says as he makes his way back up to your face again, and you just need to be held for a few minutes before continuing, glad that Tony can see that too. Your hands find their way into his soft, fluffy hair and you gently stroke his scalp as the two of you exchange sweet little pecks, just enjoying each other's company for a little while.

When you have found some of your strength back again one of your hands moves down to cup Tony's cheek, the other traveling even further down until you reach his still-hard dick. ''Hm, are you ready to have some fun again, Daddy?'' you ask and you kiss him, licking your way into his mouth immediately and you can feel his dick twitch underneath your fingertips at your question and kiss. You moved to sit between his legs, and without any teasing you took him into your mouth, taking about half of him in your mouth and throat first to get used to him again. It was always a bit of a stretch in your throat and even though you can take him entirely, you never do it right away.

You hollow your cheeks as you suck, your tongue pressed to the underside of his dick earning yourself deep groans from his chest, as well as the occasional moan of your name. ''F-fucking hell, Y/N, that mouth is perfect,'' he groans and it only makes you feel more turned on, the slick between your legs becoming more until you're practically dripping onto the sheets, your hips bucking up against nothing at the sounds he's releasing. You keep working him slowly deeper into your mouth, your hand moving down to his balls to give him even more pleasure. When you slide down his shaft one more time you completely take him into your throat, earning you the biggest praise of all, ''Oh, FUCK! Gonna cum!'' he shouts and before you know it his thick, white ropes of cum are shooting their way down your throat, all the while you're still taking him completely.

When you let go he finally releases the hold he had on the sheets as he came down your throat, and you're panting to finally get the air in your lungs you've been depriving yourself of. You have the biggest smile on your face as Tony pulls you into his arms, he needs some cuddles during his refractory period and you're more than happy to give him just that. There are some more chaste kisses exchanged and you feel loved beyond words, and the feeling of joy is overwhelming right now. Your fingers trace lazy patterns through his chest hair while the two of you lay there for a few minutes.

''Are you ready to go for some more, young lady?'' he asks and you tell him you are. ''Am ready for you, Daddy. Need you inside me,'' you say and with that, he gently lays you on your back and your legs fall open again to let him in between them. You're still very wet and turned on, meaning Tony can just easily slide in and you have been waiting for this moment. He lines up with your entrance and slowly pushes in, careful not to hurt you even though the two of you have done this countless times before. ''D-daddy!'' is all you can say before you squirt all over him and the sheets, and he's barely even slid into you. ''Holy fuck, Honey Bee, I should tease and treat you like that more often,'' he chuckles before he lines up again, this time sliding in slowly with soft moans being exchanged.

''P-please, slow,'' you whine softly and he does, you're already a little overstimulated but as long as Tony takes it slow, you know you can handle it. ''You're doing amazing for me, you're a perfect girl for me right now. Taking Daddy so well in this tight cunt, never want to leave,'' he says as he slowly starts thrusting, your back arching into him and he leans over to give you sweet, passionate kisses while finding the perfect rhythm for both of you. When soft moans keep escaping from your lips he knows he found it, and the two of you keep doing this for a while, completely melting into each other's bodies.

''Gonna speed up a little, Honey Bee, I'm close,'' he says before placing a few soft kisses on your neck and you nod. ''Gonna cum too,'' you say, and with that, he picks up his pace and within a few more thrusts he comes undone deep inside you, while you cum again and as your walls clench and flutter it prolongs both your orgasms. ''Love you so much, Daddy,'' you say with the little bit of a voice you have left, throat raw from the blowjob as well as the constant moans and whines leaving your mouth, and he places soft kisses all over your body while he climbs off to grab a warm washcloth you clean you up, and in the meantime, he runs a bath for both of you.

When he comes back he cleans you up while being careful with your most sensitive parts and he lifts you, letting your legs wrap around him like a koala bear. The two of you are just enjoying each other's company, no words need to be exchanged to know how deeply you love each other, and how happy you are with one another. He steps into the tub that was filled with a rose bath bomb to add to the atmosphere, the music he put on earlier still softly playing in the background and he sets you down and turns you around so his chest is flush with your back. His hands are roaming over your body in a loving, caring way and he makes sure not to miss a single inch.

When the two of you have been sitting like that for a while he grabs the soap and a shower puff, loading a generous amount on there and he lets you slightly lean forward so he can wash your neck and back before moving to your legs, thighs, stomach, chest, and arms. His lips leave soft kisses on your neck and shoulders as you relax in his hold, underneath his touch. The soap does its job and you feel squeaky clean, so when he's done you return the favor by doing the same to him. When the water starts getting cold, the two of you get out, and dry off before making your way to the living room together, to enjoy the rest of your night with each other.

Right now it felt like you were in heaven, wrapped up in front of the fireplace with your amazing husband. He always gave you everything your heart could ever desire, but when the two of you got married, he gave you the best thing he ever could, the promise of forever with each other. You already had each other's hearts, but by saying ‘I do’, the two of you showed the world that you would be by each other's side through everything, and you promised to love each other for all of eternity.

The two of you had enjoyed your bath together and were fully relaxed, and now you were enjoying the warmth radiating off each other and the crackling coming from the wood and the flames. No words had to be said, both were very comfortable in the silence that surrounded both of you as you snuggled together, enjoying each other's naked bodies in a different, but still very intimate way. Your touches weren’t sexual right though, they were sensual and filled with love. You placed your head on Tony’s chest and listened to his heartbeat and his breaths.

If this is what heaven feels like, you never want to leave. If this is what heaven looks like, you would never want to see anything else. This moment was nothing but utter perfection, and there were 3 more weeks of this to come. “I love you, Honey Bee,” he whispered against the crown of your head before placing a soft kiss there and rubbing your side and back lovingly in random patterns. You were very content and almost asleep, but you were conscious enough to still hear him, and respond. “Love you too, Babe,” is the last thing you said before your breath evened out and you fell asleep in the arms of your husband in your house in the Swiss Alps. Life has never felt more perfect.

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