#munstysmind

[munstysmind]

WARNING/S: non-con, rape, loss of virginity, rough sex, rough vaginal sex, rough oral sex, rough anal sex, unprotected sex, multiple men, blood, assault, abuse, slavery, trauma, threats of forced prostitution, mentions of kidnapping/abduction, mentions of death, mentions or murder, mentions of injuries, mentions of suicide. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know.

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT

THIS IS A DARK FIC, DO NOT READ IF THIS TYPE OF CONTENT TRIGGERS OR OFFENDS YOU.

You and you alone are responsible for what you choose to consume online.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Thank you to @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure for being my ideas gremlin, and @themaradwrites for beta-ing. This wouldn’t have been written without your help.

MAIN MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

CH. 1 - THEIR REWARD

{54 BC}

Her heart pounds in her chest as she slowly walks down the hall towards the man she despises more than anything in this world.

Dominus Julius Fabius. Her owner. Her master.

She wishes she could stick him in the neck with a dagger and watch him bleed to death, just like all the men he condemns when he forces them into the arena.

He’s pure evil.

The kind of evil Orcus uses to make an example of. The God of punishment and the Underworld is going to have fun with her master when he passes into the afterlife.

She’s lost count of how long it’s been. Five years? Probably more, if she’s being honest with herself. She doesn’t even know who she is anymore.

Except her name.

Amina.

To everyone around her, she’s a thing. An object meant to do as she’s told. No exceptions.

She runs her finger along the cold iron bolted around her neck, her slave collar.

Thirty coins. That’s what he paid for her. She didn’t know you could put a price on someone’s life but that’s what hers was worth, thirty whole coins.

“There you are girl” he growls as he grabs her wrist tightly and drags her towards a door at the end of the hall “I’m in a right mind to give you a lashing for making me wait”

“I’m sorry, they… they wanted to make sure everything was perfect” she mumbles, keeping her eyes on the floor to help hide her tears as she recalls the looks of pity on the faces of the women who got her ready.

She knows they know what her Master’s plans are, and she suspects the reason they took so long was to keep her from her fate for as long as they possibly could.

“I don’t care. Those fighters in there won me a lot of denarii today. You’re going to let them do whatever they want to you. All. Night” her master tells her, getting so close to her she can feel his warm, vile breath across her face.

“I… I’ve never…” she stammers, her eyes going wide as she realises what he’s saying.

“I know. I know you’ve never laid with a man before, they checked you when I brought you. That’s why I chose you” he says, a smirk spreading across his face. “Maybe I should put you in the Lupanar and whore you out after they’ve broken you in. Gods know you’d make me a fortune”

It takes everything in her not to turn and run as fast as she can as she swallows down the bile rising in her throat.

It would be pointless though, there’s guards everywhere. She wouldn’t make it to the end of the hall before they caught her. She’d be guaranteed a lashing too, a public one at that. Just like Vesta.

“I mean it girl. You’re theirs tonight. I don’t care if it hurts… in fact, I want it to. A lot” he whispers, pulling out a small dagger and cutting one of the shoulders of her dress, exposing her breast.

He runs the dagger tip over her nipple, pressing it into the sensitive bud until it breaks the skin, making her let out a small whimper of pain.

“If you resist, or put up a fight, you’ll be punished, and it’ll be much worse than what they’re going to do” he growls before pushing her into the room.

She can’t help but flinch as the large wooden door is slammed in her face, the echo of the metal latch being closed ringing in her ears.

She just stands there, staring at it as she takes shuddery breaths.

She knows what’s about to happen. What she’s about to go through. And there’s nothing she can do about it.

She’s trapped.

Locked in a room with three blood covered fighters.

Their reward for winning their master 5000 coin.

She’s their prize.

“Turn around” a deep voice commands, making her jump.

She closes her eyes, praying to the Gods that she wakes up from this nightmare as she slowly turns around.

She sees the man the voice belongs to and her breath catches in her throat as she fights back tears.

He’s the one who killed her brother.

Champion gladiator August.

“Name” he growls, slowly approaching her with a look similar to the lions in the arena before they attack.

“Am… Amina” she stammers, stumbling back against the door as he towers over her.

She can smell death on him. The twang of iron, of blood. Was it her brothers?

Her stomach churns at the thought and she wants to be sick.

“Amina” he repeats “honest, faithful. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman”

Under any other circumstance she might have smiled and thanked him for his compliment, just like she was taught, but not this time. She just can’t.

“I like to know their names before I take what I want” he tells her with a smirk.

He remembers them, every name. All the women he’s taken this way. Amina’s the latest entry on his ever growing list.

He grabs her dress and tears it off her body, letting the fabric crumple to the floor.

She instinctively tries to cover herself, but he stops her, prying her hands away from her body before grasping her breasts and squeezing.

A grin spreads across his face as he continues to grope her, pinching and rolling her nipples tightly between his fingers, making her whimper in pain.

The noise makes him let out a low growl from deep in his chest and his eyes go dark, almost black.

Before she can fully register what’s happening, he grabs her by the back of her neck and yanks her towards the small table on the other side of the room, forcing her onto her back.

He takes her legs behind the knees and pushes them open, exposing her to not only him, but the other two men in the room who are now standing behind him and looking over his shoulder.

Her stomach churns as she stares at the ceiling, her face burning with embarrassment as she tries to think of anything to distract her from the way he’s inspecting her.

She bites back a whimper as he touches her, his fingers playing with her most intimate area before spreading it open.

He lets out a satisfied hum, a smirk spreading across his face when he sees she’s intact, just like their Master promised.

“I’ve never had a pure one before” he says, to no one in particular as he pinches the small bundle of nerves above her opening, making her gasp loudly.

“They’re my favourite. Oh, the noises they make” one of the other men says excitedly, much to August’s annoyance.

“She’s mine, Lloyd” he growls, glaring at the man before turning his attention back to her, really looking at her for the first time since she entered the room.

And as much as she tries to look away, to look anywhere but the face of the man that’s about to brutalise her, she can't. Her green, terror filled eyes just stare at him, transfixed.

He’s seen her eyes, and that look, before. He knows he has. There’s something so familiar about them and it takes him a minute to place it. The man he killed in the arena a mere hours before. Her brother.

“You’ve got his eyes” he tells her before turning his gaze back between her legs.

She’s so caught up in the flood of emotions at what he just said that she doesn’t notice his finger pushing into her until it’s too late.

She lets out a loud yelp at the sudden pain between her legs, her body instinctively trying to close her legs and move away from the beast of a man in front of her.

He lets out an angry growl and yanks her up by her arm, turning her around and bending her over the table with so much force all the air leaves her lungs when her chest makes contact with the wooden surface.

“Don’t move” he growls, kicking her legs apart with his feet.

She grips the edge of the table, so tightly her fingers hurt, as tears well in her eyes. She prays the talk of his stamina is wrong, that it will be over quickly.

But it won’t.

When he’s done with her, there’s two more waiting.

And they have her all night…

The sound of his armour dropping onto the ground behind her makes her heart pound.

It’s happening.

Right now.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying her best to relax when she feels him prod at her again, but it doesn’t matter.

He snaps his hips forward and tears into her with force, pulling a scream of pain from her that makes him grin.

In all the beatings she’s gotten over the years, she’s never felt pain like this.

It’s like a searing hot poker being forced into her over and over as she’s split in two.

The tears in her eyes escape and spill onto the table as he thrusts into her, over and over and over again. It feels like the more she cries, the harder his thrusts become.

“Best one I’ve had yet” he grunts as he lays over her, pressing her against the table with his full body weight, and starts grinding into her, moaning loudly in her ear.

He’s enjoying this, getting pleasure out of hurting her. How can he not? He’s a sadistic bastard!

Little does she know she’s not the first woman he’s forced himself into. It’s the whole reason he’s stuck fighting in that gods forsaken arena in the first place. And unless he dies there, she won’t be the last.

“You’re mine now, gonna take you like this whenever I want” he pants, making her let out a loud sob at the thought of him doing this to her over and over.

It all becomes too much and her stomach churns as bile rises in her throat, burning it as she chokes and coughs it up.

His moans start becoming louder as he ruts into her hard, his hips slamming her body into the table over and over and over.

“Oh Gods!” he roars, moaning loudly as his hips stutter then still before he thrusts into her as hard as he can, filling her with a strange warmth.

He says something to her, but she doesn’t hear a word of it, unable to hear anything except the loud ringing in her ears.

She lets out a loud whimper as he pulls out of her before kneeling and pushing her legs wider, smirking at the blood mixed with his spend dripping out of her.

He catches some with his fingers and pushes them inside her, forcing it back into her as she lies on the table, her entire body shaking and twitching from shock as she takes shallow, gasping breaths.

“My turn” the second of the men says, all but pushing August out of the way before grasping her by her hair and pulling her to her feet, making her cry out.

He pushes her to her knees, making quick work of removing his armour as she glances behind him at August drinking wine from a goblet and sees the size of him for the first time, enough to make Priapus himself blush.

She looks back at the second man, terror spreading through her yet again as she comes face to face with his member.

She can’t tell if he’s bigger, but it doesn’t matter. He’s going to defile her the same way August did without a care for her.

He hooks his finger into her mouth and forces it open before pushing himself in until she starts to gag.

He holds onto the sides of her head and starts thrusting, hitting the back of her throat with each snap of his hips.

A smirk spreads across his face as he moves one of his hands to the back of her head and forces her down onto him, deep throating her.

He holds her there, moaning at the feeling of the muscles in her throat squeezing him as she chokes.

“We can’t kill her, Lloyd” August warns as she starts scratching at his legs, trying desperately to get air.

He lets out a growl as he pulls himself out of her mouth and slaps her hard across the face before grabbing it and pulling her to her feet.

“You’re going to pay for that” he hisses, manhandling her onto the small bed in the corner of the room.

He climbs on after her, roughly pulling her hips up and slamming into her from behind.

“Gods, I’ve not taken a woman this good in years” he moans, throwing his head back and gripping her hips tightly as he thrusts hard, spurred on by her cries.

“I wonder if her other hole’s just as good?” August says with a smirk, leaning against the table he just had her bent over.

“Let’s find out” Lloyd replies, spitting on her ass. He pulls out and lines himself up with her tiny puckered hole before pushing himself into her, moaning loudly at the muscles squeezing him tightly in an attempt to force him out.

She lets out a shriek of pain, her body going rigid as she tries, and fails, to get away from the man violating her in a way she didn’t think was possible.

He lets out an evil laugh and pushes her face into the bed as he starts thrusting, going out of his way to hurt her as much as he can.

The noises leaving him as he uses her body for his pleasure are burned into her mind as she prays to the Gods to take her and put an end to the indescribable pain coursing through her body.

He looks down at where he’s thrusting in and out of her and smirks proudly at the sight of blood.

“It’s even better” he grunts to August, gripping her hips so tightly his nails break her skin.

“I’ll have to try it next” August says, slowly stroking himself as he watches Lloyd pound into the woman at their mercy over and over again, moaning to himself at the sound of her cries.

Lloyd lifts her hips higher, thrusting as hard as he can into her at the new angle, turning her cries into screams with every snap of his hip.

He lets out a long moan, throwing his head back as he cums hard, filling her with the same strange warmth August did.

“Gods, I’m doing that again” he pants as he slowly pulls himself out of her bloody back passage before slapping her ass, making her yelp as she collapses into the bed.

“You’ll get your chance. It’s your turn, Nick” August says, getting the attention of the third man standing on the other side of the room.

Until now, he’s not paid much attention to the events happening in the small room, trying to drown out her cries and think of anything other than what he wants to do to her.

It’s wrong, he knows it’s wrong, but he doesn’t care. He wants her. And it’s his turn to take her.

He slowly walks towards her, removing his armour as he does before gently turning her over and climbing into the bed.

“No more… please” she begs quietly as he spreads her legs with his knees and settles between them.

Asking for mercy is useless, she knows that. All she is to them is an object to seek pleasure from, to defile.

The only thing she can do is close her eyes and brace herself for the pain as he slowly pushes in, a long moan leaving him as he fills her.

But when he starts to move, the pain doesn't come.

She opens her eyes and stares at him, confused, and scared, by what she's feeling.

Why doesn’t it hurt?

Why is it so different?

Why does it feel… nice?

“Gods” she gasps, her eyes fluttering shut as he starts to speed up, letting out a moan that drowns out the one that slips past her lips.

She has no idea what he’s doing differently to August and Lloyd but she prays he keeps doing it because it feels good, amazing even.

Her mind races as she tries to understand what’s happening. Why does she feel bad, so embarrassed and ashamed, when what’s happening right now feels so good?

He moves his hips faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he gropes one of her breasts before pinching her nipple hard, pulling another moan from her.

He slowly glides his hand up her chest to around her neck, squeezing the sides. The sudden restriction of air makes her panic and start clawing at his hands, making him squeeze even more.

Her eyes roll back as a weird pressure builds between her legs, making whatever he’s doing to her feel even better.

It suddenly breaks, making her moan loudly as a pleasant burning sensation washes over her, before everything goes black…

VENERIS FILIA TAG LIST: @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @themaradwrites @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @aussieez @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @ktficworld @sillyrabbit81 @juliaorplI78 @kingliam2019 @thebejeweledwatercat @red-write-hand @queenzee27 @therockandaroll

[sillyrabbit81]

Just checking in to see how everything’s going your end 🙂

Hows it going??

I'm sorry, I'm only getting around to this now. Its been a rough few months.

My daughter is doing well. Her surgery went well and its looking promising that the surgery has stopped her seizures. She's still on meds (and probably will be for a couple more months) but I can already see a difference in her and I haven't noticed any seizure activity.

But, I'm one of those people who fall apart after a crisis... I honestly thought I had been dealing with my emotions, but once she was back at school, I had a bit of a breakdown. I'm thinking I'm starting to feel a bit better now, just in time for the stress of Christmas (Yay!) But I'm trying to keep positive.

I hope you are doing well. I'm looking forward to getting into that gladiator au fic of yours.

❤️ Rabbit

[dream-beyond-the-fantasy]

Merry Christmas @munstysmind! I had you for the @occreatorexchange Christmas Gift Exchange.

I hope you like the photo edit/poster I made for your Hawaii Five-0 OC story, Your Weakness.

I enjoyed reading your story. I look forward to reading more one day and seeing what happens with Steve and Harper. I want to know more about them. I even started watching the show because I wanted to know more about Steve and his team.

[arrthurpendragon]

It's so hard to choose with such a lovely community of humans. So here's my list: @arrthurpendragon - you're amazing! The things you do for the OC community are greatly appreciated! And you're a wonderful OC creator yourself! Your stories are so amazing and your OCs so well fleshed out!

@munstysmind - enabler in chief! Always there when I need ya. You're one of my favouritest humans. And your fics are *chefs kiss*. You angst like nobody's business. Now get me my Steve/Reader done, pls.

@darsynia - Amazing fic! And a great friend. Thanks for being there when I needed you!

@starryeyes2000 - What can I even say? A good friend, an amazing writer, and always there when needed :) Thank you for all the help you've given me with my fics.

@residentdormouse - You're the awesomest awesome. A great writer (lol, that 404 line still makes me laugh), loads of the memes. And always reblogging!

@mrsmungus - My Tiva shipper friend! Always look forward to reading your fics! And thank you for the reblogs and lovely comments.

@heresthefanfiction - Thank you so much for your kind words earlier! And right back at you - I love your Jurassic fics, they're so good! And the characters have so much depth!

@loonysama - my newest of friends and my GotG beta. And my enabler of fic exchanges, lol. Thank you! You've been amazing.

Oh, man...who am I forgetting. I know I'm forgetting people....

If I remember who I'm forgetting, I'll send another. I'm sorry! I have soup for brains today and need food. But I love all of my mutuals.

@arrthurpendragon

@munstysmind

@darsynia

@starryeyes2000

@residentdormouse

@mrsmungus

@heresthefanfiction

@loonysama

[munstysmind]

Ok, I’m definitely using this for Maddison

Once my boyfriend told me: "You're not a burden. A burden is something you're forced to carry against your will. I freely choose to be a part of your life and that means you aren't a burden to me." I'm passing it on in case some of you need to be reminded of that.

[whatcjdidnext]

Hehehehehe

This is cute whatever it is

Thank you to my darling @munstysmind

(She’s a real one. Been around for a while and enables all my hoe tendencies

[munstysmind]

PEEL OFF - HENRY CAVILL

WARNING/S: nothing but fluff, a sprinkle of implied smut and a speck of pain, for like two seconds

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

"Hen please" you beg, clutching the small squeeze tube in your hands "please, please, please, please, please... just this once, I promise"

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and looks at you as you pout and give him your best puppy dog eyes, puppy dog eyes you know he can never say no to.

"OK... ok, just this once" he says, biting back a laugh as you let out an excited squeak and bounce on the spot.

"Have I ever told you you're the best boyfriend ever?" you ask as you take his hand and and all but drag him upstairs into the master ensuite.

"Not today" he tells you while you struggle to climb onto the vanity.

He can't help but chuckle as you let out a small huff and look up at him with a pout before he grips your hips and lifts you, gently setting you on the cold marble surface.

"You are the best boyfriend ever" you say, a smile spreading across your face as you wrap your arms around his neck.

You've never been more confident about a statement in your entire life, he's the best man you've ever known. You'll never understand what he sees in you.

"I love you" he whispers, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

"I love you too" you whisper back before pressing your lips to his.

He lets out a soft hum and pulls you closer, your legs resting either side of his as the kiss deepens.

"Stop distracting me" you mumble against his lips as he runs his hands up the back of his your shirt, his fingers giving you goosebumps as they brush against your spine.

"You kissed me" he reminds you, nipping at your lower lip before pulling away.

"And you're trying to get in my pants. I'm a lady Mr Cavill" you say, trying and failing to look offended at his actions.

"You weren't a lady last night" he says with a smirk. You bite back a whimper, your face heating up as the memory of what he did to you the night before flashes in your mind.

"Let's get this over with then" he sighs, already regretting agreeing to let you torture him with your newest beauty product.

"You act like I'm about to do surgery on you" you chuckle, pecking the tip of his nose.

"You could be. I've seen you do all this beauty stuff, some of it’s scary" he says, eyeing the mysterious product in her hand.

"You're a big boy, you'll be ok" you tell him with a grin before opening the tube and peeling off the safety seal.

"Is that glitter?" he asks, watching you squeeze out some of the contents onto your fingers.

"Yep" you say, popping the p as you start applying the sticky, glitter filled gel across his face, the tip of your tongue poking out of the side of your mouth as you concentrate.

You've been wanting to do this for months, it has to be perfect.

Once you're satisfied with your work, you spin around and tie the lions mane you call your hair up on the top of your head before applying the gel to your own face, making sure to avoid the fresh piercing on your nose.

You finally got it done after wanting it for well over a year and you’re in love with it, unlike your mother who had a meltdown and proceeded to lecture you about how you’d made the biggest mistake of your life the second she saw the tiny diamond stud.

Thank God she doesn’t know about your tattoo.

After one final check to make sure everything is evenly applied, you close the cap tightly on the tube and put it away in your skin care cabinet behind the mirror before leaning back against Henry’s chest.

“How long until I can take this pixie vomit off my face?” he asks in a deadly serious tone that makes you look at him in the mirror with a frown, questioning what you just heard.

“Pixie vomit?” you ask confused. What the hell is he on about?

“Yeah, looks like a pixie threw up on my face. That or a unicorn shat on me” he tells you with a nod, followed by a grin as you let out a snort.

“Oh my god, Hen” you gasp between your laughter. You’ll never get tired of how he makes you laugh. It’s one of your favourite things about him.

“You didn’t answer my question” he says, pouting dramatically.

“About twenty minutes, give or take” you tell him, pressing a quick kiss to his pout.

“Peaky Blinders?” he asks as he lifts you off the counter and sets you down.

You don’t know why it’s taken you so long to watch it, but you’re hooked. Both of you are.

“Always” you reply, looking up at him with a cheeky grin as you slip off his your tee to reveal your new lingerie piece before walking into your shared master bedroom.

He quickly follows you, hugging you from behind and pulling you flush against his chest.

“You little minx” he whispers in your ear before pressing a few kisses down the side of your neck, making you whimper quietly as you tilt your head to the side.

“You don’t like it? That’s a shame, it was rather pricy. I guess I can return it” you say with a pout, feigning disappointment.

“I didn’t say that!” he blurts out, almost choking on air. You have to bite your lip hard to keep yourself from laughing. He’s so adorable when he’s flustered.

“So, you do like it?” you ask, grinning at him.

“I fucking love it. But I think it’ll look better on the floor though. Much, much better” he says with a smirk before taking your hand and guiding you to do a spin, showing off the lacy emerald green teddy that hugs ever curve of your body perfectly.

You let out a squeal when his hand connects with your bare ass, stinging and turning red as the sound of skin on skin rings in your ears.

“Excuse you, hands you yourself Mr Cavill” you playfully scold, slapping his hand away from you.

He just smirks at you, at least you think it’s a smirk, he can’t really move his face with the mask starting to dry.

“Come on, we’ve got some Birmingham gangsters to watch” he says before getting on the bed and crawling over to his side.

You take the opportunity while he’s in the compromising position to get some payback and slap his ass, hard.

He lets out a yelp and quickly sits on his ass before glaring at you while you let out an evil laugh.

“What’s wrong, Bear?” you ask innocently, biting back a smirk as you climb onto the bed next to him.

“Nothing” he mumbles, making you chuckle quietly as he clears his throat and turns his attention to the TV.

You snuggle into his side as he starts up Netflix, letting out a content hum when he puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer.

You’ll take this, cuddling on the bed and watching TV with your man while your face mask dries, over partying every single day.

Two episodes later and you’ve both forgotten about the glitter filled pixie unicorn concoction that’s well and truly dried on your faces as you watch Tommy offer to flip a coin with Aberama Gold.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @aussieez @rookiemartin @babeyyemor @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @chickensarentcheap @dhoruwolfie @themaradwrites @cali-nyc5 @darsynia @birminghamshelbyboys @wewannasaygoodnight @sweetbunnyliddle @kingliam2019 @sillyrabbit81 @angelcavill66 @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @secretdream2 @livesinfantasyland @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @ktficworld @juliaorplI78 @henry-cavs-tudor @red-write-hand @ladyzee27

[babyjakes]

thankyou thankyou thankyou sweet friend!! 🥺🩶☁️🫶✨

[munstysmind]

“How long until I can take this pixie vomit off my face?” he asks in a deadly serious tone that makes you look at him in the mirror with a frown, questioning what you just heard.

@aussieez @rookiemartin @babeyyemor @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @chickensarentcheap @dhoruwolfie @themaradwrites @cali-nyc5 @darsynia @birminghamshelbyboys @wewannasaygoodnight @sweetbunnyliddle @kingliam2019 @sillyrabbit81 @angelcavill66 @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @secretdream2 @livesinfantasyland @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @ktficworld @juliaorplI78 @henry-cavs-tudor

This week's word is...

✨ MIRROR ✨

Find it in any WIP and share the sentence containing it! Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[lilacevans]

thank you honey!!!🤍

[arrthurpendragon]

There's so many I love! Including you! But I want to give special shout outs to residentdormouse, darsynia, asirensrage, muchadoaboutcj, munstysmind, and ninjasawakenedmystars. They are all so gracious and lovely and have wonderful spirit and talent.

And an even bigger shout out to karimac who is the most beautiful human beings on earth. Just so gifted in her story telling. And she always makes me smile and brightens my dad whenever she responds to something I post :)

@residentdormouse

@darsynia

@asirensrage

@muchadoaboutcj

@munstysmind

@ninjasawakenedmystars

@karimac

[chickensarentcheap]

5 Favorite Songs at the Moment

Thank you so much for the tag, @asirensrage!

Most of mine are old lol

Against All Odds- Phil Collins

Who Made Who- AC/DC

Barracuda- Heart

Underneath- Blacktop Mojo

When You Love A Woman- Journey

Tagging: @thebejeweledwatercat @munstysmind @themaradwrites @mrsmungus @residentdormouse @ninjasawakenedmystar

[munstysmind]

She’s so strong and so fragile at the same time…

Tell me, what's one of your favourite lines that you've written?

[cjswordsofwisdom]

Without Me || A & B Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Tell me how's it feel sittin' up there? feeling so high but too far away to hold me. You know I'm the one who put you up there, name in the sky. Does it ever get lonely?

Thinking you could live without me. Thinking you could live without me. Baby, I'm the one who put you up there, I don't know why (yeah, I don't know why)

Depression hits hard when Anthony and Benedict leave you, but when they come back it gets even worse

Warnings; angst, some sexual content (grinding against thigh) mentions of miscarriage, cheating I guess (our girl goes back and forth a lot)

Stay away if you are under twenty one. I’m an adult who writes for adults

Tagging: @benophiepie, @quillsandcravats, @watermeezer, @cillianmurphysdimples @monaskydancer, @faye-tale, @munstysmind

You never know the last time you’ll see someone.

You stare down at the newspaper in your hands as your eyes drink in the smiling faces of Anthony and Benedict Bridgerton. It’s been almost four months since the last time you’d seen them and in that time they’d found a new sub: someone pretty and perfect and they seem rather happy with their lives. Your eyes pull away from the newspaper to the TV and your frown deepens, it's all over the news but you can’t look away. It’s rather like a train wreck.

A really ironic train wreck.

The woman settled between your two ex lovers is pretty enough. Her hair tumbles down her back in soft waves and she’s wearing an emerald gown with just the right amount of cleavage that would make a Monk blush. She’s smiling from ear to ear as she dances on the screen and you have to force yourself to turn off the TV before settling in bed and staring at the ceiling. You start a new job in the morning, and you’re not turning up to Will Mondrich’s boxing club looking like you’d been out on the town partying all night.

With a sigh, you roll on your side and face the wall and you decide that maybe tomorrow will be better.

*************

You’re wrong.

Will shows you the ropes of the club, the ins and outs of the workings and introduces her to a few other people. His business partner Simon waves a hello and Will’s wife Alice smiles from her seat, offering a small wave before she’s up and out of the door. But you’ve come here to work, not to make friends - You’re not even sure you can call Will a friend. Just a kind saviour who needed someone to step in for Alice sorting out invoices and when she goes on maternity leave

You’re grateful for the cup of coffee Will brings you as you file through paperwork and as you take your first hesitant swig, the door swings open. Youre not quite prepared to come face to face with the Men who used to lavish you with love and attention. The coffee spills down your shirt and onto the floor and the cup slips from your hand smashing on the floor.

Something in you switches as you apologise immensely for the mess before cleaning it up and heading into the back to change into the spare clothes you always keep with you.

Today just can’t get any worse.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Simon. Promise” your head bobs furiously as you wipe your eyes and you take yourself away for a break to let yourself cry until you can no longer.

“Y/n.. It’s me, Alice” her voice calls through the bathroom door and it makes you cry harder “Will wanted to know if you were okay”

“I’m.. I’m fine” Hiccups leave your lips before you sob again and you hear Alice sigh before muttering something into a walkie-talkie “Found her babe.. Yeah I’ll fill in for her… Go easy on her hey baby? she’s having a panic attack”

You sniffle as you bury your face in your knees, trying to gain some semblance of control back when the door opens and a soft voice fills the room “Sweetling.. It’s Benedict, let me see your face”

“Go away.. Please. Let me grieve”

You’ve never really had to confront reality before. All your exes have always given you what you wanted: Time and space. But you know Anthony and Benedict won’t oblige to you this time. They will push and prod until you’re a screaming mess.

Opening the toilet cubicle, you straighten your back and walk out to the wash basin. Reaching for the taps is easy, you turn the red marked tap on and wash your face and hands then you tense up as Benedict pushes his chest to your back, moving the hair from your shoulder “You forget sweetling, we know what you need”

“I need to not torture myself anymore. I need to move on”

His lips are soft against your skin, and as much as you want to push him away the urge to keep him and have the pretty girl from the magazine find them is greater. You can feel the molecules of your heart stitching themselves back together and making you whole again. Your eyes dart to the door as it opens and you sigh as Anthony strolls in, closing it behind him “That wasn’t very smart was it sweetling. Having a panic attack on your first day of work”

Your broken mind scrambles for something to say before you’re pushing Benedict away and creating space between you and the Men who seem to invade your thoughts and feelings. The windows are too high to climb out from, so you decide to sit on the floor and relax - The worst they can do is make you cry.

They’re not the type of men to cheat on the Woman they’re with despite Benedict’s earlier slip-up. You can still feel his lips on your shoulder and neck as you try to find an escape route.

“I need to get back to work. I don't want to lose this job, I worked hard to get it in the first place”

As you stumble from the toilets, You only really have one thought

“I'm going to need to find a new job”

*********

The next few weeks are uneventful. You move in with Simon and two of his friends and find that you like being part in a group of friends. It’s easy to eat dinner with them most nights because they like your cooking. It ends up with you falling asleep on the sofa as they watch films or play video games but it all comes to a grinding halt when Anthony and Benedict come calling with a few items you left behind. You stare at the box wordlessly as thoughts run through your mind then you gasp as Simon’s friend Theodore walks up behind you, placing his hands on your waist as you shake “Shower’s getting cold, darling”

“Darling?”

“Yes.. This is my boyfriend. It’s all very new” Anthony is angry, you can see it behind his dark eyes. But he doesn’t show it around the male who’s holding HIS sweetheart

You see the gears turn in both men’s minds and the jealousy that fills Anthony’s eyes. If they can happily find someone new then you can as well, it’s just the rules of being exes. Theo’s fingers slip under the band of your sweatpants and you barely stifle a gasp that both the Bridgerton brothers catch.

Nothing’s happening with Theo, he’s far too in love with your downstairs neighbour but you’re glad of a lifeline right now. Leaning up, you peck Theo’s cheek murmuring about how you won’t be long then you step out of the apartment you share with your new-found family.

A gasp leaves your lips as you’re pushed into the wall opposite the front door with Benedict’s hand around your neck squeezing just the right of painful. Your hands grip his wrist and you stifle a whimper as he leans in, not at all phased by your lack of wanting him to let go and Anthony smiles brushing his thumb over your lips

“L-Let go” You shove weakly at someone’s chest and gasp as Benedict’s lips lower to yours. You know Benedict wont do anything without your permission - He never does, nor does Anthony. It’s not their style.

They may have broken your heart and they may be attractive Men but they know what consent is.

“Our sweetling.. Why have you settled with a little boy?”

Your answer almost makes Benedict let go “Because you left me. You tossed me away and found the next willing person to please you both”

You still, tensing up as Anthony leans down, sucking at your pulse point and everything drifts away. The pretty girl they have now, the break up, your loneliness - All gone with a simple touch and you cling to whoever’s touching you like he’s a lifeline - Because they both are.

Desperate fingers grip the jacket on Benedict’s shoulders before you push it down as his lips trail down one side of your neck as Anthony’s trail down the other side of your neck.

With a whine, you grind down on Benedicts thigh as Anthony’s lips continue their slow assault on your skin, their kisses are languid trailing up and down and you stifle your moan biting your lip “Tell us to stop. And we will”

“Don’t stop.. Please don’t stop”

The weight of what’s happening is crushing your shoulders, you’re not a homewrecker. And Alice will no doubt give you hell when you get to work on Monday Morning for falling back into old habits and dangerous patterns.

“You’re thinking too hard, little dove”

“You’ve found someone new”

Everyone stops in their tracks and the men accompanying you press you tighter between their bodies. You look so lost and despondent as you fold your arms around yourself, seeking comfort they should have given you. Anthony and Benedict exchange glances before turning back to the woman they love and your body shudders as you silently sob.

It’s painful for Anthony and Benedict to see you so upset. You’ve not said a word in months, choosing to remain radio silent while you healed from the turmoil you went through. With a teary face you glance up at Anthony and Benedict and let out a pathetic whimper that goes straight to their trousers.

It shouldn’t turn them on but it foolishly does.

“You’re taken again and I’m alone and sad and… Fuck”

You let out a pathetic laugh, sniffling as you look around “I was pregnant. Pregnant and I had a miscarriage alone”

You sit down on a bench in the lobby and your hands grip the bench tightly. After weeks of trying to piece together a normal life you’re finally getting the courage to face the issues head on. You glance up at your two ex-lovers, both staring at you with parted lips and everyone is silent “It would have been a girl. I was going to name her Daphne”

“After our sister?”

You nod quietly, fingernail scratching against the paint of the well loved bench as Anthony kneels before her. His hand brushes back your hair and you let your head fall on his shoulder, arms going around his broad shoulders

“Oh my sweetling.. What happened?”

You shrug silently. Slumping back against the wall behind you, too far lost in your mind to even realise that Anthony has you up in his arms and is now carrying you from the building - You don’t argue, relaxing in his hold and breathing in his cologne.

The world can wait for now. The pretty new girl can wait for now.

Everything is as it should be

[munstysmind]

Thanks for the tag @red-write-hand

last song: “Bones” by Sail North

favourite colour: royal blue

last tv show: Hawaii Five-0

Savory/spicy/sweet: savoury, unless it’s Skittles

last thing i googled: “is Spotlight open today??”

current obsession: bookbinding

last book: “The Love Hypnosis” by Ali Hazelwood. I’ve read a grad total of one chapter

looking forward to: going up to Bestie’s next week

@birminghamshelbyboys @aussieez @themaradwrites @chickensarentcheap @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 and anyone else who wants to take part :)

Get to know me/People to know better

thank you so much for tagging me @cosmmicdancer :)

last song: bobby sox by green day, I think

favorite color: yellow or a yellowy orange

last movie/tv show: the OA

sweet/savoury/spicy: I need a perfect balance between sweet and savoury/spicy, because of the tism, but my wife would say its definitely sweet

last thing i googled: bahnstreik 2024 (hello fellow germans)

current obsession: moral panics and everything surrounding them

last book: currently reading stone butch blues

looking forward to: my wife getting their passport and moving in with me after almost 4 years of long distance <3

tags: @leaskisses444, @signforsign, @starsendlessly, and @amarettofemme and @sunkissedbutch, because we recently became mutuals and you seem like darlings :)

(absolutely no pressure to participate )

[darsynia]

Shipping and Handling | Ch 3: Gravity

(Stucky x Reader slow burn, Steve x Reader fast burn, Friendship all around)

SERIES MASTERLIST | STORY MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: There’s a chance you and Steve aren’t the only people dealing with the strange chemical bond from Mistress, so you agree to submit to daily tests that should help Dr. Banner figure out what’s happening, and maybe how to stop it. The problem? Seeing each other every day brings a new set of side-effects that both of you hide from each other and Banner until things come to a head– not just for the two of you, but also for the man who has to deal with you: Bucky Barnes. Length/Warnings: 4,631 / sexual situations, 'dere's some TOUCHING

Tags: (please request!) @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreblogsfics @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee @eralen @mrsevans90 @myinconnelly1 @thorinsmistress13 @cjand10 @wckedheart @samfreakingwinchester @blind-devil @sanniegirl1214 @karimac @dispatchvampire @beautifulchaos723 @weirdpeoplecoolpeople

Excerpt:

I could get out of here so quick it’d make the ‘weird news’ section, Bucky thinks to himself. He’s seated on the concrete up against the wall, knees up, glowering at the rest of the men in the same containment cell. The tight pressure of his pants is punishing against his erection, but the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Hey Colada, you gonna kill me with your eyes?” one of the gym rat assholes calls out from across the room.

“Depends. Your head hurt yet?” he asks, not bothering to raise his voice.

“Fuck, you ain’t kidding, man is scary as shit!” The man shoves his companion and turns his back, unintentionally showing off the greasy blonde mullet he’s sporting.

Not for the first time, Bucky thanks the combination of circumstances that’s kept him from needing a mindless fuck. The desperate want has been gnawing away at his insides for over an hour, but it’s at least manageable so far. His clothes reek of coconut, and the part of him that remembers going undercover in the past is cooked with laughter. His leather-clad punk rock piña colada smelling ass isn’t flying under any kind of radar, not even in a drunk tank full of genuine idiots.

Chapter Three: Gravity

Once inside the car (a limo, of all things), Steve guides you to the back into the curved corner seat before retreating as far away from you as he can get. He doesn’t have a fever, but his blood is on fire, both in desire and a strong need to protect you.

From himself, if necessary.

“Steve?” 

Your objection to the distance between you is plaintive, but he looks down at his tightly clasped hands, not trusting himself until he can get his breathing under control. “We’ve got to get you to Bruce as soon as possible.”

“Oh yes, exactly the penetration I need: a needle in my arm!” you grumble. Steve can’t hold back his shocked reaction, which prompts you to wince and look away. After the driver eases the limo out into the heavy traffic, you add quietly, “How the heck did you resist this?”

“I didn’t.” 

The tiny sound you let out on hearing that goes straight to his groin. Your next words help him regain his composure though.

“Steve, I’m scared. I don’t want to be a guinea pig for some kind of experimental treatment, but I don’t want to force you into anything either.” you whisper. “Maybe I could see if--”

“No.”

Steve barks out the word, caught in the grip of fierce possessiveness. His hands ache as he pours all his strength into keeping his fingers intertwined, instead of reaching out. The thought of someone else, someone not him…

“I didn’t even finish the sentence!”

He shakes his head, mind racing to find an explanation that doesn’t make him look like he is overstepping. “Secondary transfer is going strong. I pictured someone else touching you, and--” he breaks off, lifting his eyes to yours. Something you see in them has you unbuckling and coming over to rest your warm hand on his forehead. Muttering something about overheating, you start undoing the first few buttons of his dress shirt. “Dee,” Steve groans, unable to conceal the stress in his tone.

He catches your wrists as gently as possible, but that just reveals that the backs of his hands are lined with fingerprint bruises. You tut as the already-healing wounds catch your eye.

“It’s just like you to apologize for trying to keep your hands to yourself!” you say, but all other admonitions die on your lips as you watch the self-inflicted marks disappear. “That’s… that’s like magic,” you breathe. “Bruce really did pick the perfect person to try to figure this whole thing out. And then I had to go and screw things up!”

“Your being in the apartment was an accident, one I don’t blame you for.” He uses as firm a tone as he can, but your face crumples a little, sweat beading up along the furrows of your regretful expression.

“I shouldn’t have come over here. I only had about five minutes of coherent brain power left.” Your voice is barely a whisper, reaching your hand out and resting it gently over his heart.

“Spent most of that on reassuring me.” 

You close your eyes tightly and nod, saying, “You deserve better than to deal with this whole ridiculous situation again.”

On hearing this, Steve makes a decision, reaching over to tap a message to the driver on the communication pad hidden on a panel nearby. Tony sometimes messes around with it when he ropes him into doing Avengers events, something Steve never thought he’d come to appreciate. 

He rests his hand on yours and says, “When we met, I chose to trust you because Bucky trusts you. None of that has changed.” He pauses for a reaction, but you’ve got your teeth firmly embedded in your lip, your entire body tense with concern about what else he might say. He’d rather you didn’t have your eyes closed, but he remembers how hard it was to use logic and reason after being dosed with Mistress. “No matter what happens afterwards, Bruce has to know how direct exposure affects you, so I need to ask: do you trust me?”

You open your eyes to blink at him, and Steve notes how blown your pupils are. Knowing it’ll make things temporarily worse, but needing a response, he cups your face with his hand. Almost instinctively, you angle into him as you nod, showing both a conscious and unconscious sign of trust.

The limo pulls over to the curb and he lifts your hand from his chest to press a kiss onto the back of it. Bucky would probably complain he looks like some kind of knight errant. Shaking that thought off, Steve gets up and makes his way to the door, saying over his shoulder, “Try not to burn me in effigy till you get to the Tower, all right?”

The despairing tone you use to call out his name slices at his conscience, but there’s no time to do anything more than start running to the tower. Exertion should burn off some of the lust, at least. He hopes he can get through all the things he’s planning in the twenty minutes before the limo’s projected to get there. 

Your body had screamed in relief when Steve touched your face, but seconds later, he’s gone. At first, you’re confused. The limo sits for a while at the curb like it’s waiting for Steve to come back-- but finally it eases back into traffic, to your utter disappointment. You know the lust that’s prompting you to clench your thighs together for friction could all too easily take over.

It’s incredibly difficult to try to focus, but you pour all your mental efforts into the task of trying to remember just what Steve said before he abandoned you. You push past the moments of pleasure that crowd your mind, seeking a touchstone, something to keep your sanity intact--

Bruce. Bruce will want to test you. That means there’s a purpose to this torture.

You throw yourself back so you’re lying prone on the warmed leather of the limo’s seat, bending your knees toward your chest. The cool air on your exposed skin is hardly a relief at all, but the pressure from the shaping garment you’re wearing is oddly welcome.

“Well, that’s a first,” you mutter aloud. The sound of your voice is low and rough, undeniably sexy, and you light on that as something you ought to mark down for Banner.

When the limo stops and turns off its engine countless minutes later, you’ve only managed to scrawl something barely-legible about that observation onto a scrap of paper. It kept you busy, focusing your thoughts away from the heat licking through your body, and that’s what counts.

The door opens, and somehow, Steve leans in. “Time to fly to another perch, Chickadee,” he says gently, holding out his hand. 

“How--” you breathe, moving toward him. Only now does it occur to you that you’re basically a million desires held loosely together by the wax of willpower alone. You don’t want to make Steve deal with that-- but those concerns melt away as you step out onto the sidewalk in front of the building and collapse against him in relief. Steve sweeps you up into his arms, dipping his head to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is intense after your solo minutes in the limo miserably conflagrating. You clutch at him, loving the safety of his strong arms bearing you up. All that exists in the whole world is Steve, a good man, a trustworthy man, someone who knows exactly what you need. You bury your fingers in his hair to encourage him, eagerly anticipating the moment when he’ll lay you down and take you, the only thing that will heal the wounds caused by Mistress.

Except, for the second time in a half hour, that’s not what happens.

Steve pulls back from the kiss, apologizing right away when the bright light from the exam room he’s carried you into makes you recoil against his neck in surprise.

A cool, unwelcome hand catches your upper arm, turning you away from Steve just as he adjusts his grip to bring you to a stand.

“Just a little pinch!” a woman’s voice says. It’s not Dr. Lyonne, and Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Behind you, you can hear Steve’s unhappy voice demanding… something, but there’s a ringing in your ears, and everything goes wavy and indistinct after that.

You experience only flashes of the next minutes-- the solid chair under you as your blood is taken, the insistent voice asking questions about the evening, icewater through a straw held to your lips, but mostly you’re focused on keeping from reaching out and begging everyone around you to end the torment burning through your veins. Through the pervasive lust you’re wracked with, a single horrid thought keeps emerging.

Is this what Steve felt like that day?

It becomes louder than anything else, until you reach up and cover your ears with both hands, closing your eyes so tightly that the pressure flashes like fireworks.

“Dee?”

On any other day, Steve might touch your shoulder to get your attention, but he knows that you don’t have your eyes cinched shut and your arms crossed and your body tensed up for nothing. The desire simmering in his own veins is bad enough without more contact scrambling his senses. So, he stops your wheelchair in front of the elevator doors without hitting the button, and walks around so the sound of his voice will come from in front of you.

“I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through, because this stuff hits everyone differently. I’m just going to give you some options.”

You do a curt little head nod, pressing your lips together tightly.

“Option one is to head to a room to take care of things yourself, however long that might take. We’ve got an empty, furnished apartment set up if that’s your choice, with, ah,” his words fail him, but Steve pushes through. “--supplies.”

You make a choked noise in the back of your throat, and he rushes on to the next suggestion.

“Option two is to let you into our apartment, since you might feel safer there. Buck and I will use the other place in the meantime, till we get an all clear from you.” Bruce had suggested this, and Steve was doing his best not to picture it. 

“Alone?” you whisper, sounding miserable.

Steve crouches down in front of the wheelchair, his heart clenched into as much of a fist as the hand he’s gripping the armrest with. His high-minded resolutions not to influence you have been shredded by the look on your face.

“Not alone, not if you don’t want to be. The third option is for me to stand by what I promised in the restaurant. To finish what we started, out in the car.”

Your breathing had been quick and distressed since he’d wheeled you out of Bruce’s lab, and as he watches, you struggle with your words, pulling in a breath only to let it out in furrowed-brow frustration twice. Finally, you let out a huff of a laugh and let your hands drop like you’ve given up trying to be diplomatic. 

“Are we coworkers, thanks to all this? Do we need to get lawyers involved?”

“Oh, I’m sure Tony would love to get lawyers involved,” Steve groaned, “--but this is just between us. No surveillance and no pressure. The limo is parked in a private garage, it has tinted windows, and Stark’s AI guards all access. It’s the safest place I could think of without a chance of being interrupted or--”

“Yes.” Along with the fervent assent, you throw your head back, your whole body going through a kind of delighted shudder of relief that has Steve standing and walking a short distance away so he doesn’t do anything rash.

After a few deep breaths, he says, “I’m going to wheel you into the elevator, but if I’m honest, I’m not sure you’re in any condition to agree to this.”

“At least as much as you did, the day we met!” Your laugh sounds manic, but when Steve turns around, he catches you letting out a deep breath, your hands in fists on your lap. “If--” your voice falters, but you clear your throat and continue. “If you really think that, I can’t do this to you. I’ll… go up to the apartment.”

His own disappointment at that option slices through his inhibitions, and Steve hastens to refute the necessity of your offer. “Don’t do that to yourself. You won’t be able to fix this without me.”

“I know. But you should have the choice.”

He hits the elevator button and the doors open right away, offering a distraction from responding as he wheels you in-- but Steve Rogers isn’t much for avoiding tough things.

He ignores the part of his brain that points out that this isn’t tough at all.

“I do have the choice. Bruce said, and I quote, ‘I’ve never seen you walk away from someone in distress, and I don’t expect you to start now.’ He’s right.”

Steve forces himself to count to twenty as the elevator takes the two of you to the sub basement, but his veneer of control is shattered when the doors open and he looks down at you. You’ve leaned your head back to look up at him, desire etched across your features-- but equally present is an expression of utter trust.

It’s as much of an intoxicant to him as Mistress.

He walks around to block the door of the elevator, turning to hold a hand out for you. No way is he going to wheel you to the limo for what’s about to follow. Your immediate, confident grasp does a lot to assuage his concerns. The way you stumble into him right afterwards is just a symptom of the malady he knows just how to fix.

The empty wheelchair in the elevator will do nicely as an indicator to whom it may concern.

“God, I want you so much right now I’m basically a lit flame,” you whimper, twisting free of him and skip-stumbling over to the limo. Before he can stop you, you’ve opened the door and posed beside it in a wicked little gesture of sultry chivalry.

Multiple realizations hit Steve as he walks over.

He wants you, but he’s coming to realize he also wants you. As a person. You’re smart and compassionate, talented as all hell and beautiful inside and out. Steve’s never seen you act starstruck, yet you clearly respect Captain America as a facet of his personality. You’re joking about gallantry, but not to mock him. This… this is joyful, and he’d be willing to bet that if Bruce got ahold of a blood sample right now, he’d find that the minutes you’ve spent together have stabilized your desperate lust as much as his has been inflamed.

When he gets to the limo, you press yourself as close as you can, sliding your palms along his shoulders and his upper arms as you pull in a deep, steadying breath at his chest. A little whimper-sigh escapes your lips, reminding him of the urgency you’re caught up in, the need he’s forced you to delay satisfying for the greater good. Your whole body is trembling.

“I’ve got you,” Steve rasps into your ear-- and as if you’d both practiced the move, you hold onto his shoulders right as he lifts you up, your legs moving to bracket themselves around him. He bands a hand across your back to pull you into a desperate kiss, and the next coherent thought he has is to marvel that the inside of the limo has enough space for him to stretch out lengthways.

Everything is moving fast, and though he knows your body is willing, he needs to be sure your mind is on board. Even as he thinks this, you’ve already removed your top and are working on the rest of your clothes. The beauty of the lines of your body as you angle and arch sends his hips thrusting up against you.

Your hitched moan in response is almost enough for his compromised sense of what’s right, but not quite.

Steve catches your hands at your back as you struggle with your bra clasp. “Are you still in there? Can you consent?”

“They should do a study on how much your moral code makes me need you inside me,” you pant, rolling off of him to strip off everything from your lower half in record time. “That’s just wrong.”

He can’t resist. 

“Are you saying you’re in distress, ma’am?” he asks as he rushes off his own clothes. Something rips, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

You arch your back and throw your arm dramatically over your eyes. “Save me, Steve Rogers!”

He does.

Thoroughly.

I could get out of here so quick it’d make the ‘weird news’ section, Bucky thinks to himself. He’s seated on the concrete up against the wall, knees up, glowering at the rest of the men in the same containment cell. The tight pressure of his pants is punishing against his erection, but the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Hey Colada, you gonna kill me with your eyes?” one of the gym rat assholes calls out from across the room.

“Depends. Your head hurt yet?” he asks, not bothering to raise his voice.

“Fuck, you ain’t kidding, man is scary as shit!” The man shoves his companion and turns his back, unintentionally showing off the greasy blonde mullet he’s sporting.

Not for the first time, Bucky thanks the combination of circumstances that’s kept him from needing a mindless fuck. The desperate want has been gnawing away at his insides for over an hour, but it’s at least manageable so far. His clothes reek of coconut, and the part of him that remembers going undercover in the past is cooked with laughter. His leather-clad punk rock piña colada smelling ass isn’t flying under any kind of radar, not even in a drunk tank full of genuine idiots.

His stomach lurches. The dousing of Mistress he’d gotten was more than the amount that fucker had splashed on Dee, but it was worth the exposure to knock the guy out. You’re probably going to be pissed at him, even though he’d used his flesh hand just for your sake.

Bucky allows himself a smile meant to unnerve the men watching him, but internally, he’s scrambling. Thinking about you had been a mistake, maybe a big one. He’d enjoyed your performance that night; you’d added subtle physical and vocal flourishes that showed your skill to captivate an audience, himself included. When he closes his eyes, he can see the sway of your hips, both as you sang and while you danced with Steve.

A surge of desire courses through him, and he has to rock his hips to stifle the effects with the seam of his trousers. The pain-pressure doesn’t help this time. The damned aphrodisiac is finally winning.

New subject. Now.

The sharp sound of a police baton knocking against metal bars rings out. “Barnes?”

Bucky lifts his head and sees two figures near the door to the large cell. Beside the policeman is a squirrely-looking lawyer type with a terrible toupee and obviously fake, non-matching facial hair. The man’s suit is oversized, enough to trigger a visual scan for weapons. 

He gets up in one fluid motion, leaning his head down so his hair covers most of his face and deliberately hulks toward the door. Everyone between Bucky and the bars scurry out of the way, but he’s focused on the lawyer’s clear inconsistencies.

Thick-cut, ill fitting glasses Inability to stand still No eye contact Very high quality shoes

He chooses to lift his arms wide to grab the bars and lean forward, a dominant stance even in this caged madhouse.

“That ‘sposed to scare me?” the lawyer says-- and Bucky starts to cough instead of laughing. The lawyer is Tony Stark. He’s using an exaggerated New York voice, the kind you find on kids cartoons, but it’s him.

Bucky decides that ‘undercover’ for him right now is ‘over-cover.’ Drunk, horny, and indiscriminate.

“Do you like being scared?” He makes sure to slur his words just enough.

The policeman makes a terrible face and backs up. “Jesus how many did you drink?”

“I got a collection of umbrellas in my pants. Want one?” Bucky offers, reaching for his zipper.

“You can make me a bouquet of them in the car, buddy. Just keep those hands to yourself!” ‘sleazy lawyer Tony’ pronounces. 

The officer’s eyes climb skyward. “I can keep ‘im in here for as long as you--”

“Sure, if you’ve got condoms.” Bucky smiles.

He’s never seen anyone unlock a cage so fast, not even when he was crushing someone’s windpipe as an inducement to hurry.

That thought’s enough to make him stumble through the now-open cell door. It’s funny how convenient inconvenient flashes of memory can be.

“C’mon Casanova, let’s get you into detox,” Stark drawls, adjusting his enormous fake glasses.

A shout of “It’s Colada!” follows them out of the hallway.

“Do I wanna know?” Stark leans over to ask, giving Bucky a strong whiff of the alcohol on his breath.

“I’m as sauced with that sex drug as you are with--”

“All right, all right,” his ‘lawyer’ interrupts loudly, shoving Bucky past the policeman guarding the door. Stark’s holding up an ID that could probably get him into the Pentagon, but for all that he appears sloppy, he’s remembered to bring the kind of ridiculous car his persona would drive. The two of them hop into the back seat and Stark rolls down the window to wave at the jailhouse. The momentum from his man Hogan stepping on the gas knocks the tipsy superhero on his ass and leaves his nasty toupee in Bucky’s lap.

He throws it out the window.

“That was rude!” Stark says, frowning.

“I don’t think your girl wants you to come home with any kind of Mistress.”

Stark wrinkles his nose as if finally recognizing the smell. “Right. Well, maybe don’t punch convicted felons and get on the scanner next time? That’s not the kind of heroism I was expecting from you, Colada.”

Fuck, that better not catch on. “Don’t.”

They’re pulling into the tower already, driving all the way down to Stark’s private garage. Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to stay inside until the car stops. The closer he gets to privacy and the ability to do something about the fire radiating from his groin, the more intense it burns.

Stark is busy looking affronted. “Hey, I’m the Stark itect of your escape out of jail, Barnes. You could say thank you.”

The car stops, and Bucky opens the door, saying as he gets out, “Thank you for keeping your bad puns until the end of the ride.”

There’s a limo parked near the elevator. It’s out of place, no driver visible, but the lights are on. It hadn’t occurred to him that Stark’s tower would have VIP guests. If he weren’t so fucking horny he’d investigate, but as it is, he can only rush past.

Bucky bursts into the apartment with almost no self control left. Inside, a part of him is screaming about loss of control, but he erases it with a hand on his cock. He’s standing in the fucking doorway with his pants at his ankles and he could not possibly care less. Everyone in the building should be grateful he shut the door at all. 

He slams his head back against the wall behind him. The feeling of it giving way against his strength is as powerful as the liquid ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

It’s been more than one lifetime since he’s felt the itch to be outrageous, but right now he almost wishes for Steve to walk in and see him, head practically buried in the wall, the rest of him on display. His body is bowed out in a taut arc centered on his cock, his movements electrified by the twice-damned aphrodisiac in his system. Bucky had kept his mind mercifully blank from picturing anything, but just as before he’s weakened the dam by thinking about Steve.

Steve had looked great in his suit, overdressed but classy, but that was Steve. He’d always been like that, even before he’d lucked into that body.

Fuck. Think about something else.

He’ll come in the doorway but he’ll be damned if he’ll come in the doorway thinking about his roommate. Society hasn’t ‘advanced’ that far.

Something ELSE, Buck.

His hand is gliding, the pleasure is unreal, and the entire slideshow in his head is Steve. Bucky dials back in time, even though he usually doesn’t invite the nightmares that can bestow unless he’s got a few days alone to deal with them. He skips past cone bras and miniskirts, bouffant hair and do-wop music, letting out a whine in the back of his throat as he’s almost, almost there, but not quite.

Just as he’s got the perfect image of a pin-up dame in his head with the right shade of lipstick, the thought that he might not get to come crashes in like a neon Times Square sign dropped by a helicopter.

Bucky’s eyes open wide and his hand stops, then drops to his side. He’s still a live wire of erotic voltage right now but the chance that might become a permanent state of being has him wrenching his head from the wall.

He thinks back. What had you told him about this, what had you done? Is this related? There's zero chance you won't feel responsible if it is.

His lust-addled mind mixes every thought he’s had in the past five minutes into a psy-op worthy of the absolute worst HYDRA’s ever managed: an image of you superimposed on that red-lipsticked siren of a minute ago. A jolt of need draws his hand back to try to finish with your sultry voice at the vintage microphone as the soundtrack. 

In his mind, Bucky sees you throw your head back to croon something that sounds so much like lovemaking it’s enough to send him, and he falls to his knees shooting ropes of grateful release all over the floor in front of him.

It’s one of the best he’s ever had, almost worth the mess he’s made.

Fuck.

Your head’s thrown back, hips rocking at a pace you’d never be able to manage without Steve’s solid hand supporting your arched back as shards of honeyed pleasure start to strike from the oncoming storm of an orgasm. He’d promised to hold back, worried he’d hurt you, but with a groan you start begging.

“Steve let go, come with me, I can take it. I need you, I--”

He whimpers your name and complies, obliging but forceful, his powerful thrusts in perfect time with yours until seconds later, Steve slams his hand down beside you and comes. The very feel of it prompts your orgasm, pitching you forward onto his chest in a sobbing puddle of relief and ecstasy.

Neither of you moves, still connected, as both of you catch your breath.

“Is it me or was that even better than--” You stop, unwilling to say ‘usual’ or ‘before’ because you are not, not going to acknowledge aloud that you have an ongoing sexual, but not romantic relationship with Steve Rogers.

Just thinking that reveals that the hurricane of pleasure earlier came with some piercing debris you’d rather not try to heal right now.

“I’d say yes.”

To be continued...