#so there was a giant tub at the hotel last week

[akayna]

✨ hello

[hischierhoney]

bruised — a nico hischier x reader blurb

warnings: mentions of injury/bruises/blood, undefined relationship

There’s a bruise on Nico’s ribs.

It’s dark and purple and big, splotchy across his bare skin. It looks worse in the stark kitchen light at 2am than it did in the picture he’d sent you the day before. The one he’d taken in the hotel room, a funny grimace on his face, captioned with something about warning you so it didn’t scare you when he got home. Home. After nearly two weeks straight, he’s here. Standing in the kitchen, shirtless. Your kitchen. He’d gotten off the plane and got in his car and drove over.

It’s messing with your head, a little bit.

You’ve been friends with him for a while now, since he moved to Jersey and you made mutual friends. There was a shift, though, months ago- at the end of the last season, in that tiny sliver of time between seemingly endless games and his trip back to Switzerland. Maybe one too many drinks, a little bit too much mutual liquid courage. It had ended with you in his bed that night, and then in the morning, too, a sheepish grin on his lips and a blush on his cheeks.

Then he’d flown off to Switzerland and you’d moved on.

Until- until he came back, and he got stressed and complained about it to you, and you’d offered stress relief in the best way you knew how, and it ended with you on your knees, his head tossed back against the couch, and the look of relief on his face afterwards was so worth it. Worth doing it again, and again, and when you’d been stressed he’d reciprocated, taking you out of your own head for just a second, and-

And now you’re the type of friends who have to warn each other about their bruises, because he knows you’re going to see his bruises. Now he’s the type of friend who’s standing in your kitchen shirtless at 2 in the morning. Now he’s eating your ice cream, straight out of the tub, taking bites between sentences as he tells you about the roadie, as he complains about Jack’s yapping on the flight home, as he turns too fast and winces, his hand coming up to press at his ribs, still holding the spoon between his fingers.

“Looks worse than it did in the pictures,” you tell him, nodding at his side.

His face twists. “Feels worse than it did,” he admits.

He must see the worry on your face, the frantic feeling of did you get it checked are you okay what if you’re hurt, because his face softens, and he gives you something between a smile and a grimace.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Nothing’s broken. Was just a hard hit.”

“This is where you tell me I should see the other guy,” you say, laughing, hoping he believes it’s genuine.

You can’t explain it, is the thing. Why you’re feeling like this. It’s just. The bruise is giant, and you’d watched him take the hit on your tv screen, watched him get shoved up against the boards, and. It had nearly wrenched your heart out of your chest. Like someone had reached past your own ribs and squeezed. And you didn’t understand, still don’t, because he’s played hockey the whole time you’ve known him and you’ve never felt like that before, never been curled up on the couch, hand pressed to your mouth, waiting for him to get back up. Get back up. Please get back up. Come on, baby, get up-

Nico sees straight through you. He sets the ice cream down and makes his way around the kitchen island, a soft smile on his lips. You bite back a gasp when he takes your hand in his, his fingers still cold from the carton, and brings it up to his side. To the bare skin, mottled with dark colors.

“I’m okay,” he says, looking down at you where you sit on the stool. “I don’t break that easily.”

You chew on your lip, thinking of concussions and scratches and that clip of him playing in Switzerland over the summer, blood running down his cheek, the one that almost made you call him even when you swore you wouldn’t be that girl. You press your palm over the bruise, softly, and find relief in the warmth of his skin. It’s just a bruise.

He leans down and presses a kiss against the crown of your head, and then stays, nose buried in your hair. He cradles the back of your head in the palm of his hand, holding you close, and- this feels like something friends don’t do. It feels like more.

“I’ll always come back to you, baby,” he says.

The ice cream is melting on the counter. But when you lean up to kiss him, you can’t bring yourself to care.

…..

hi this popped into my head and i had to write it. very much unedited hope you enjoyed!

…..

[faithintaiwan]

july 27 - taitung rice museum, green tunnel, & aboriginal museum

It’s our first day back to our program! Last night in the hotel was definitely an experience I would not like to repeat. I was so exhausted after traveling all day only to be met with the dustiest hotel I had ever stayed in. It didn’t have a shower head in the tub rather the shower head was hung next to the toilet with a flimsy curtain separating the two areas. In my complacency, I had not bought slippers like I said I would before I left and it was definitely needed for this. The hotel had two pairs for us in the room but they were absolutely not ones that had been replaced or cleaned anytime recently. Fanny and I trekked in the rain to Family Mart where I bought more disinfecting wipes and a travel set of soaps. After wiping everything down, I was able to take a shower which went better than I thought it would. The room also had a door that led to Andy and Eli’s room so we had fun yelling at them through it!

After eating convenience store food for four days straight and tons of it before the typhoon I am so sick of it. Luckily we had the best hotpot today! There was so much pork, lamb, and beef I almost cried of happiness. I have never craved a homemade meal more in my life but we don’t have a kitchen so it isn’t possible. The hotpot definitely saved me, though.

Unfortunately, it was raining all day so some of our activities were cut short. Our first stop, the rice museum had the cutest cat and a store full of snacks but not much in the way of educating about the industry. After not getting to pet the adorable kitten at the hotel because she was so skittish, I was so happy that a cat had come up to me to be pet!!

The second thing on our itinerary was the “green tunnel”. Imagine for a second what that would look like. Maybe a tunnel through the mountain that’s been painted green or a cave with moss. No. It was a normal road with trees on either side. We stood outside it and stared at it as it poured rain. A low moment in my life for sure.

But it’s ok because the aboriginal peoples museum was incredible. There were so many exhibits detailing the prehistoric details of Taiwan and the history of the native people. It even went up to modern day with commentary about harmful stereotypes and major contributions to Taiwanese society and culture. I’m really glad we got to explore the museum and read about everything! Even if I was suffering through the rest of today this definitely made up for it and was a highlight of the trip!

Luckily there is only one more night at this hotel before we go to Kaohsiung. I am so excited for there to be more than only two wall chargers, a shower with an actual barrier, and food that’s not an hour away by bus!

Academic Reflection

On the party bus before we reached the rice museum, Peter told us about the industry. He said that Taiwan is self sufficient for rice with the biggest producer being in Taichung. The new generation is also not demonstrating as big of a demand for rice resulting in many governmental efforts to increase the popularity of it. People are now going for pasta or other goods that have to be imported making it more expensive and putting rice farmers out of business. He said to eat some rice while we’re here to support the local industry! This definitely made me feel better about spending so much money on sushi in the past few weeks.

Our next major stop was the prehistoric and aboriginal people’s museum. Here we learned about how Taiwan was created out of a complicated tectonic boundary that remains active resulting in destructive earthquakes like the one a couple months ago. Much of the infrastructure is thus created with earthquakes in mind reducing the deaths that the country unfortunately experiences with each major one. Taipei 101’s giant ball is one example we’ve seen of anti earthquake measures. Taiwan also boasts tons of mountains with many of the volcanoes now dormant and only two active ones left. The museum also detailed the history of the aboriginal people. Similar to the Native Americans, the people here crossed 30,000 years ago when the Ice Age lowered sea levels enough to expose a strait between China and Taiwan. They then created villages and cultural regions with differences in beliefs, lifestyles, and even themes in pottery. One particular thing that stood out to me was in the 1970s and 80s the Taiwanese government dumped dangerous nuclear waste under the guise of a fish cannery onto Pongso no Tao. The waste infected the water of the fishing grounds that the people survived off of and greatly harmed the local population. Rising levels in fish mutations, cancer, and more have been effects of this dump

[apoptoses]

There is SO much potential for a Devil’s Minion story set in Tokyo. Armand at his wildest, most inquisitive, playful and earnest and Daniel being his perfect partner in crime. And uhh yeah I’d like to hear more about the sexy toys vending machine 👀

It's extra good because being in a country where neither person can read or speak the language is the great equalizer. At last Daniel and Armand would be on the same playing field in some aspects.

But they would love it because the nightlife is endless there. You can find concerts and nightclubs and bars open literally 24/7 in any part of the city. There's not one street they'd walk down and find everything closed. Even when the trains stop running at 1 am there's taxis waiting to take you anywhere and for once in their lives they wouldn't have to hunt for a house party to go to because the party in Tokyo is always in public spaces and never private.

And the shopping. Good god the shopping. Every train station houses a giant multi level department store open until 9 or 10pm, full of staff bowing and bringing you anything and everything you touch. The clothing store clerks would love Armand. They would dress him up like a living doll and gush over how handsome Daniel is, and send them both out the door with bags and bags of beautifully wrapped things. And if it was festival season they would insist on putting Armand into a yukata and sweeping his auburn hair up with a kanzashi covered in dangling flowers.

(festival season would be the best, because the parades are lit by paper lanterns and run into the night. The fireworks? Insane. The little game booths? Armand would be fascinated. He'd catch tons of goldfish on the little rice paper fans and give them away to the children that have crowded around them)

Outside the stations they'd find Don Quixote, the seedy discount items store that sells everything from colored contacts to wine to hair dye. They have random small home appliances, lightly used luxury brand wallets and purses, makeup. The biggest variety of condoms you've ever seen in your life. And they're open 24 hours so Armand could look at stuff literally all night.

They'd spend one night at a high end hotel in Roppongi, with a view of Tokyo Tower. Another just outside the city where they can get a room with their own private onsen. And another-

Well, those seedy motels with no windows. Love Hotels, rented by the hour or all night. Perfect for the vampire and his mortal lover. You pick your room and pay at a machine without interacting with a human being at all. All of the rooms are themed, all of them have a giant bath tub with jets. All of them contain a vending machine full of toys. Vibrators, silicone toys meant to be fucked, you name it, they have it.

(and also most of them also contain tvs with some kind of game system, so when Armand isn't tormenting Daniel he'd be sitting on the edge of the bed playing pong)

Armand would love the goth kids in Harajuku. He'd befriend a gaggle of wasted salarymen in Asakusa. Somehow they would end up in a hostess club with every working girl there crowded around them, delighted by Armand and Daniel both and drinking champagne.

It's the wildest, weirdest week of Daniel's life and perhaps the one he loves most because it's all just fun that neither of them have ever encountered before. For once it's not just Armand discovering things but Daniel finding strange stuff to be fascinated with too, and they absolutely, positively must go back after he's turned.

[5ivebyfive]

land of the lost brittana

[I wrote this for @jennamacaroni once upon a time for her bday when she requested Brittana and dinosaurs. It’s based off that old tv show Land of the Lost, and it’s crack-y. I forgot I even wrote it, but it was so much fun. Enjoy.]

(Rating: T)

This wasn’t what Santana had in mind when Brittany suggested they take a nice little road trip to a spa for their anniversary. She had envisioned a swanky hotel, massages, and lots of naked hot tub time with her girlfriend. Not some freaky, geeky, science-fiction show crap.

If she had been driving they would have avoided this entire situation.

Instead a freak storm hit, and they couldn’t see where they were going. The ground started to shake and rumble, and Santana was sure it was an earthquake. (She didn’t scream, and if anyone ever claims she did, she’ll deny it with every last breath.) Before Brittany could even pull over, the ground cracked before them, and it quickly began to split the earth apart. (Again, Santana did not scream.) Brittany had tried her best to steer out of it, but it was useless. Santana’s large SUV slid down through the gap in the road. Like a bad dream, or an equally bad science fiction tv show, they found themselves driving through some dark underground tunnel and emerging into another world.

A lost world.

A lost world of motherfucking dinosaurs.

Santana had been sure in that moment that she was dreaming and would wake up at any moment, but things only got worse. There wasn’t any civilization around them to speak of. Just lots of sand and sun, and it wasn’t the kind of sand and sun Santana actually liked. Everything was hot, dry, and just plain freaky. Loud birds screeched off in the distance. Once they stopped the car and climbed out of it they could hear other animals, and neither of them could really place what kind of animals they were hearing. Brittany seemed convinced they had somehow taken a wrong turn into the desert, but Santana reminded her that there was no desert in New York.

And that’s when they saw their first dinosaur.

Santana did scream that time. And who wouldn’t when faced with a giant prehistoric creature that wasn’t even supposed to exist anymore? She had scrambled back into the car, screaming at Brittany to follow, but Brittany only stood there staring. It took one loud cry from the…well, fuck it if Santana knows her dinosaurs. It was big and scary…and BIG. It took one screech to send Brittany flying into the car beside her. Brittany had hit the gas and spun the wheel, and she got them away from there as fast as she possibly could. For once Santana was grateful for Brittany’s penchant for speed.

It was a big chase like from a movie, and it was scary, and there was lots of screaming and yelling between the two women, but eventually they found a cave to drive into and hide in. Santana didn’t let them leave that cave until the next morning. She kept waiting to wake up, but it was all very real.

It had been a week since that day, and Santana was still waiting to wake up. She was tired, dirty, and grumpy. Brittany had taken action almost from day one. She started searching for better shelter, because for some reason hiding out in an SUV in a cave wasn’t good enough for her.

Santana found it perfectly safe. Well, at least as safe as two girls trapped in a strange land with dinosaurs could ask for. She knew they definitely weren’t in New York anymore. Not only had they landed in a desert, then had driven into a jungle. A legit jungle with vines and shit. Oh, and there were three moons. Santana didn’t know a whole lot about space – she tended to tune out when Brittany rambled too much – but she knew that planet Earth did not have three moons. The fact that Brittany couldn’t explain why they saw three moons did little to comfort her.

She knew she wasn’t being very helpful to Brittany, and sure she felt kinda bad, but she wasn’t done freaking out about their situation. She wanted to go home. She wanted to crawl into a big, comfy bed and sleep. She wanted a fucking McDonald’s Happy Meal. She wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

…even though Brittany did look pretty hot fixing a tree house in her bikini.

Yup, Brittany found a tree house. It was totally Swiss Family Robinson and shit. Santana had been stubbornly cooped up in the car when Brittany came running up all excited. Santana let her girlfriend drag her off through the jungle, and not too far from where they had settled was a big tree house high up in the trees. It was made of logs and vines, and it looked completely unsafe and dirty, but that didn’t stop Brittany from climbing up into it.

So Santana found herself sitting on the back of the open SUV, which Brittany had insisted they drive over to park beneath the tree house. And of course, because what kind of fucked up nightmare would it be otherwise, the car was low on gas. Santana gazed up at the tree house and watched while Brittany cleaned out the living space. She had found an old broom made from a tree branch and leaves and started sweeping. Dust, dirt, sticks and leaves fell from the tree house above, and Santana just sat there.

“Come on, Santana,” Brittany finally shouted down to her. She leaned against the not-so-secure looking railing of the tree house and sent her best pout down. “I know this stinks, but we have to make the best of it. And look!” She took a step back and held her hands out, palms up. “We found a house! How lucky is that?”

“Might be a trap,” Santana called up. “How do we know? We don’t know where we are! Or when we are!”

Brittany just sighed and went back to cleaning.

Okay, so yes, Santana felt super guilty, but she still didn’t want to accept the situation that they were in. She didn’t want to believe that it could be real. That there could be actual–

She let out her loudest shriek yet, and she had never moved so fast as she did to get up into that tree house. “Killer! Killer dinosaur! Britt-nyyyyyy!!” She got up the ladder and dove into the house part of the tree house. Brittany jumped and ran to the railing again to look down, and when she did she let out a sigh and relaxed.

“Honey…that’s just a little baby dinosaur…”

“I don’t care what you call it! It’s a killing machine!”

Brittany shook her head, a slight smile on her lips, and stepped back into the house. She walked through and found Santana sitting in a ball under the small wooden table. She crouched down and held a hand out. “C’mere.”

“No. Get us out of here! Take me home! Take me home now!!”

With a small frown on her lips Brittany pushed a chair out of the way and crawled under the table with Santana. She wrapped an arm around her girlfriend and almost immediately the smaller girl climbed into her lap. Brittany could barely sit up under the table, but she closed her arms around Santana and hugged her tightly.

“I know this is scary,” Brittany murmured softly against Santana’s cheek. “I wish I could just take you home, but…I can’t. I’m sorry that I can’t.” She kissed her skin. “But I’m gonna take care of you, okay? I’ll protect you from everything, and we’ll find a way to get home.”

“B-but…what if we don’t? What if we have to live here with these smelly monsters forever? What if-”

“At least we’re here together,” Brittany cut in to her ramblings. She kissed Santana’s cheek again. “We’ll be okay.”

Santana closed her eyes and relaxed against Brittany. While the words didn’t completely soothe her, they did help calm her. She kept quiet for a moment while she tried to slow her fast-beating heart, but then she nodded and opened her eyes. “Wh-what do you want me to do?” She asked in a small voice. She wanted to help. She didn’t want to be there, but she wanted to help Brittany.

Brittany smiled and climbed out from under the table. She pulled Santana with and kept hold of her hand. “Well. First, I want you to put on your bikini, then you’re gonna open that bottle of champagne we brought for the hotel room.”

“And…?”

“And we’re gonna sit right there in the sun and relax. And maybe make out a little.” Brittany grinned.

That brought more of a smile to Santana’s face, and her head shook. “Okay..”

“Good.” Brittany swatted her lightly on the ass. “Now go change. Your clothes are on the bed over there.”

“There’s a bed?”

“Mhmmm…”

Santana walked over to it and wrinkled her nose slightly. “It’s gross, Britt. I’m not sleeping on it, much less doing anything else.”

Brittany walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. She smirked as she rested her chin on Santana’s shoulder. “We’ve done it in worse places,” she reminded her. Brittany kissed her cheek again. “Now strip.”

****

After three glasses of champagne, Santana wasn’t minding the bed so much. They had started out sitting on the ‘porch’, but the sun became a little too much and they moved back inside. Brittany was currently sitting sideways on the bed so that her feet hung off and her back leaned to the wall. It was a small, single sized bed pressed into the corner of the room, but it was better than nothing. Santana sat perpendicular to Brittany so that her legs were stretched across Brittany’s lap, and her body leaned against Brittany’s.

“Feeling better?” Brittany asked.

“Mmm,” Santana replied with a hum.

That made Brittany giggle, and she took the glass from Santana’s hand to take a sip. She had packed two glasses, just in case, but after her second glass Santana had accidentally dropped it over the railing. Neither had a problem sharing their one remaining glass, but Santana pouted when Brittany took it. She wanted the champagne to herself. God only knew when they would get to drink again.

“Be nice and share,” Brittany admonished playfully.

Champagne always made Santana drunk fast, and it made her silly. It was one of the few drinks that she didn’t get weepy from. Brittany was always amused by Santana drunk on champagne, especially when she lost any remaining filter.

“Um, how ‘bout you be nice and put your hand in my suit.” Santana mumbled. She leaned closer and closed her lips over Brittany’s earlobe. Brittany laughed. “m’serious, Britt. Le’s forget where we are and gets our sexy on.”

Brittany’s eyes closed for a moment at the feel of Santana’s mouth on her, but she opened them again to look her girlfriend over slowly. She was hot. Super, super hot. Brittany ran her hand up Santana’s legs, her hip, and then up the tight plane of her stomach. She edged her fingers underneath the top of Santana’s bathing suit to grab onto one of her boobs.

Santana whined. “Wrong direction.”

“You didn’t say which part of your suit I should put my hand in,” Brittany reasoned. She lowered her head to kiss along Santana’s neck, and Santana stretched her head back to give her more room.

“B-but…”

“Don’t worry, my little Santana-saurus Rex…I’ll get there.” Brittany smirked as she bit down on Santana’s pulse point, and squeezed the warm flesh in her hand. The long moan in her ear turned her smirk into a grin, and she was sure she had effectively taken Santana’s mind off of where they were for the time being.

[sakumasmut]

🧜‍♀️ here!

can't stop imagining anzu spending her birthday getting dicked down by the idols. I can see eichi already planning to send all the juniors to do idol works outside of the city for a week or two with either tatsumi or another trustworthy producer.

they would book a hotel room for her on the night of her bday, not wasting time to ravish her body when the clock strikes midnight. like the new years party, she wouldn't be getting any breaks (except bathroom breaks and food n drinks) until the clock strikes midnight again.

also if her birthday falls on a friday or a weekend the session will definitely last more than 24 hours. she doesn't mind though, as she did ask for this beforehand.

if the idols are too tired to thrust their cock into her holes, they'd resort to toys, their fingers, and even their entire hand to overstimulate her. I think free use anzu would 100% be into getting fisted, she's a masochist anyway.

I don't know how to end this thrist ack. sorry 'bout that. 🥹

they’d definitely do something special for her. not just regular free using of her, no, this time they’re focusing on her pleasure. of course most of it involves the usual rough fucking, but some of the idols wear loincloths that she gets excited over, and they get most of the abroad idols to come over just to celebrate with her

I think it should end with them all giving her the best aftercare, if the hotel has a big hot tub they bring her there and massage her while she soaks (also cockwarming her if she so desires). plus a nice giant cuddle pile with trickstar or other idols that are especially fond of her like kaoru and rei. wouldn’t be surprised if she wakes up with them already sliding into her though

[subspencer]

Okayyyy so I’m in a hotel rn and in the bathroom there’s a big tub and right next to it is a shower and a wall that separates it BUT half way up the wall is just a giant window so if you’re in the shower you can watch someone in the tub and I literally can’t get the thought of arriving at a hotel on a case and seeing that set up and waiting until Spencer is in the shower before “innocently” taking a bath at the same time and then teasing him by masterbating in the tub while he watches in the shower before yk,,, shower sex 💀 okay it’s late and I need to sleep apparently 😂

okay so i changed it a little bit but ! whew ! it’s finally here (sorry this is over a month late lol <3). reader can be gender neutral. 

cw: mutual masturbation, perv!spencer.    wc: 1.4k

Spencer had this small, annoying rule. Whenever the team was out on a case, sex was off the table. Something about maintaining focus, or whatever.

He was fine with sharing the same room, but no sex. And sometimes, that made it so much worse. He was always at a fingertip’s length away, curled in bed next to you while you slept in his arms. Pressed closely together, but only in the most innocent of ways. 

This self-imposed rule your boyfriend had was, in summation, fucking stupid. Because how did he possibly think that abstaining from sex would improve your focus on anything? If anything, you were wound even tighter after days of busting ass at work and nights without any stress relief. 

He could sense it had that effect on you. Before bed that night, Spencer crawled onto the mattress behind you, planning on doing something small to help with that. He would’ve let you spend hours mindlessly scrolling through your phone, resting your head on his chest while he played with your hair for as long as you needed to feel a little more relaxed. 

Instead, you swatted his hand away as soon as he got near you.

“Fuck off, Spence. I’m not in the mood,” you grumbled. He knew from prior experience that playing with your hair sometimes had the opposite effect of relaxing; it tended to lead to more physical places in no time. Things that Spencer ruled against doing while on cases.

“Fine,” he sighed, rolling off the bed. “I’m gonna shower first, if that’s alright with you.”

“That’s fine,” you rolled your eyes, barely containing your annoyance as you flipped over to your side, continuing to scroll through your phone in an effort to ignore him. The sound of his footsteps rescinded towards the hotel bathroom, and you tacked on, “I just think it’s rude that you don’t want me to join you!”

Spencer laughed at your stubborn display, walking into the bathroom as he shed his clothes. When you didn’t hear the door close right away, you snuck a small peek behind you. You could see his reflection in the bathroom mirror, slowly fogging up from the steam. Still, you got a good eye full of his bare torso, toned and speckled with the occasional, tiny freckle or mole. 

“We’re on a case,” he reprimanded, poking his head out of the doorframe to give you a stern look, right before shutting the door behind himself. “We can do that when we get home!” 

You groaned and flipped onto your back, irritated as ever. If Spencer was so adamant about his no sex on cases rule, then you figured you might as well get some rest. But several minutes of tossing and turning later, you remembered that the hotel room also came with a decently sized bathtub. And what better way to actually relax than with a bath?

You grabbed your towel from its discarded place on the armchair, stripping down and wrapping yourself in it before padding toward the bathroom. Spencer squeaked when he heard the door open, a little out of surprise as he saw your shadow through the foggy glass shower door as you walked inside.

“I told you, we can’t,” he said with the slightest bit of disappointment.

“Relax, Spencer. I’m here for the bath, not you.” You ignored the shower and moved around to the other end of the bathroom, running water into the tub that was situated behind a tiled wall that separated it from the shower.

He sighed, half relieved and mildly offended, and dropped his guard. He dipped his head back under the shower stream, letting hot water run over his face and through his hair, beading down his body. When he looked back up, he noticed something.

A small window on the tiled wall of the shower, looking directly at the bathtub.

You had your back to him, bending down to test the temperature of the running water on your hand as you waited for it to fill up. The tiny bath towel doing barely anything to cover you. 

Spencer tore his eyes away, an instinctual reaction telling him that he probably shouldn’t be looking. But just as quickly, he peeked again, in time to catch you dropping the towel and climbing in. He couldn’t see anything under the foaming bubbles, but he could see your face as you turned to rest your head against the other wall.

Your eyes were closed as you leaned back, sinking into the soothing warm water. He hadn’t seen you look so calm this entire week, and it made him smile to see you this way. But then he saw your chest rise and fall with a deep sigh. Followed by a tiny whine that he could tell you were trying to keep quiet. And suddenly he wasn’t looking at you with adoring eyes anymore. 

He pushed his wet curls back and stepped closer to the window, watching to see what you’d do next. Maybe he was dreaming about it. Maybe he was more affected by his own rule than he thought, and this was his brain getting back at him for not giving in sooner. But moments pass and he knows he’s not imagining it.

Your hands were under the water. The only thing he could see was your face and your knees bent upwards, leaving him to guess what was happening under the surface. Your bottom lip slipped into your mouth, held firmly between your teeth as you lolled your head to the side, and he knew. He’d seen that face enough times.

Hot water ran over his shoulders as he pressed as close to the window as he could; feeling only slightly guilty and inappropriate for observing you do such a private thing. But he’d done that to you several times before, so surely he could justify himself for peeking in. 

A whimper escaped your lips, and his hand moved down to find his cock, absentmindedly wrapping his fingers around it as you continued. One of your hands came up from the surface just briefly enough for him to see you wrap it over your chest, tugging one of your nipples, and he started to move his own against his length. 

He picked up pace, trying to keep his own moans at bay when he saw your legs twitch. A sure sign that you found a perfect rhythm for yourself. Your mouth fell open, and he’d trained his eyes on you hard enough to be convinced he saw your lips silently speak his name. His hips bucked into his palm. His other hand slammed down to the wall, bracing himself against it as he drew himself nearer to orgasm. 

Your eyes screwed even tighter as you felt a knot in your lower stomach wind up. He fucked up; moaned out your name too loudly, and you opened them, quickly finding him in front of you, behind the window. 

Even with the surprise, you were too close to stop. And when you realized what he was doing behind that wall, you couldn’t possibly have. You mewled his name loud enough for him to hear, rolling your hips to grind yourself against your fingers as the knot grew. 

Spencer’s perfect lips parted. Hearing you say his name like that brought him so fucking close. He wanted to forget his own stupid rule. He was half a second from telling you to come in here and join him, to take you against the shower wall. But he didn’t last. As soon as he heard that familiar, high-pitched whine coming from you as you hit your orgasm, he was painting his release all over himself, covering his hands and abdomen and some of the tile. 

His head dropped against his shaking arm that managed to support him through it all. When he collected himself and looked up again, you were gone. The water was still moving from when you must’ve gotten out. 

The glass door opened behind him as you stepped inside, already dripping from your bath. 

“You know, they recommend showering after baths…” you joked, moving under the stream of hot water. Spencer stepped closer, water now running over both of you as the gap between you came down to an inch. You ran a finger over his belly, wiping a small bit of his come before it washed away, and held it up to him before cleaning it off your fingers with your mouth. “Just to make sure you’re all clean.”

[dual1pa]

one - meeting

SUMMARY OF SERIES: she is a Grammy award-winning artist and has been cast in Cliff Beasts 6 as a celebrity cameo as well as Dieter Bravo's love interest. After hooking up one evening, the two contracts COVID-19 and are stuck quarantined together for 2 weeks, what could happen?

WARNINGS: strong sexual content and language, readers' discretion is advised.

She was the newbie of the group - the final one to be cast in Cliff Beasts 6 and the last one to arrive at the large hotel. She was so excited to experiment in the movie industry when her known career line is music.

The black Escalade pulled up while a tall slim man opened the door to politely greet her.

“Welcome! So glad you made it. We are so excited to have you here,” he smiled at her all while keeping his required 6-feet distance.

“Thank you very much. Excited to be here,” she smiled looking in front of her to see a giant yellow tent with people in gowns. She quickly got tested while another man carried her belongings to her new room for 14 days.

She admired the paintings hung nicely on the walls and how large each room was. Even though she had to stay in a room for two weeks, she could get used to staying here for two months. She had to admit, she was excited to see all the actors returning for the 6th movie. She was a big fan of the movies, even though they were stupid, it was a comedic break from her hectic life. She followed the man through the wide hallways, hearing the others in their rooms already. He opened the door and welcomed her into a very large room with a big California-king-sized bed, giant TV, treadmill, and a bathroom with a tub and shower.

“Damn, I could get used to this.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, honey. You’ll get bored quickly but if you need anything just let us know. My name is Bola,” he shut the door quickly before she could respond.

It was silent. No one was making loud noises and it was quite nice.

–

The days went by. She hasn’t seen a person in days. She requested a ton of magazines and movies to binge. Day 14 came slowly, but she made it - along with everyone else. She put on a slim-fit dress that showed off her curves while also still having a professional-ish vibe. She strapped on her heels and found her way down the stairs. As she inched closer to the room, voices began to get louder and louder.

She entered the room and was a bit starstruck. She grew up watching these celebrities and now she was in the same movie with them. She went to everyone and introduced herself to them. Most were nice, some just said hello and walked off. Little did she know, she caught the eye of one of her crushes - Dieter Bravo.

He came to her, “Well hello there,” he smirked while holding his hand out for her to shake.

“Hi,” she tried not to seem like a total freak, “Wow. Dieter Brav0 - Oscar winner and everything - in the flesh.”

“I should be honest, I’m a big fan of your music. Killer,” he said.

She thanked him and explained her role in the movie,

“Ah, my love interest. Not disappointed. Darren did a great job casting.”

She blushed and noticed how he would quickly glance at her cleavage but made it seem that he wasn’t. It was only a compliment to her. He was so fucking hot.

–

After dinner, she went to the bar to grab herself a martini. She felt eyes on her, but she didn’t know who it was.

“Hello, again,” Dieter - she should have known - put his hand on the small of her back.

“Mr. Bravo. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Please. Call me Dieter. Do you wanna have sex with me?”

The bold statement almost had her spitting her drink all over him, instead, she choked slightly.

“Uh.. are you sure?”

“You caught my eye tonight. None of these other losers come close to how drop-dead gorgeous you are,” wrapping his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him.

She laughed, “How many girls have you said that line to?”

“Just you, love.”

“Yes.”

“Awesome. Let’s get outta here.”

He brought her to his room. It was very messy and there was a table in the corner with substances on it, certainly illegal, but she didn’t care. She wanted him.

“What a nice room you have,” she commented, walking over to the unmade bed and laid down.

“It’s like a pigsty in here,” he laughed.

She rested her body on her elbows to watch him undress. She hiked her dress up to show her black lace panties that were 100% see-through. Staring, she grew a bit self-conscious but was pleasantly surprised when he crawled up the bed, complementing her gorgeous figure. Her head slammed against the pillow as he had his way with her. Hands instantly brushed through his brown locks. Groaning as he sucked on your clit at just the right place and just the right amount of pressure. She moaned out his name, letting him know how close she was. He popped off before she could reach ultimate pleasure while she whined and twitched at the loss.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” he kisses up her clothed stomach and up to what’s visible of her cleavage, “I want you to come on my cock this time. Next time, I want you to come all over this face,” he licked up into her mouth.

He let go too soon to take off his robe, leaving him in nothing but boxer shorts. He scooted down his shorts to show off his impressive length. Her eyes widened and her mouth watered. He smirked at her initial reaction, wasting no more time in letting her have all of him. She stretches around him, hissing at the sting. Her mouth hangs open as the pain turns into pleasure. He leans his body weight on his left forearm, mouth inches away from hers as his slow thrusts turn quick. Their moans and groans fill the room. She never wanted the feel of the pleasure he was giving her to end. God, she could be in this position till the end of time. His hands went from her hair to pull the front of her dress down for her breasts to spill out of her dress. He slips her nipples into her mouth while keeping a steady pace, hoping she’s going to come soon since he was inches away.

“C’mon baby, I know you want to come. Give it to me,” his hand snaked down to her clit to give it some rubs in a clockwise motion.

“Oh, God, Dieter!”

He watched as she came undone underneath him. It fulfilled his ego that he could make a woman come like this. He pulled himself out of her while she watched in awe as he asked her where she wanted it. She quickly grabbed the straps of the dress and shimmied it down to her stomach.

She grabbed her breasts and pinched her nipples, “I need it right here baby,” looking down at her chest.

That’s all he needed to finish. She twitched as his come displayed all over her tits. He laid down next to her, breathing heavily. He tucked himself back into his boxers and went to grab a towel for her to clean up. He watched in awe as she admired the artwork that was displayed on her chest. She made sure he was watching when she picked up some of his come and sucked it off her finger.

“Now you’re just trying to make me hard again.”

“Maybe I am,” she bit down on her lip.

“Where have you been all my life?”

“Well, I’m here now.”

She wiped off his come and fixed her dress. He watched as she double-checked herself in the mirror before going back to her room.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked.

“I don’t have pajamas, also I need to take all this makeup off my face,” she laughed.

“I’ll come to you then.”

“Okay. I’m three doors down to the right,” she smirked, shutting the door behind her.

–

She quickly ran to her room to change out of her dress clothes and into something more comfortable. She didn’t think she would be sleeping with anyone during her time filming the movie. The only thing sexy thing she could find was a silk pajama set. She was taking her makeup off in a sports bra and a different pair of panties when she heard the door open. Footsteps made their way into the bathroom. Dieter came into her view and admired her ass while she was bent over scrubbing her face with a makeup wipe.

“Hi,” she smiled at him in the mirror.

He smirked, “Is this how you greet all your guests?”

“You got here quicker than I anticipated.”

“Should I leave then come back?”

“No,” she said almost immediately as he smiled.

He came up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. Throwing the wipe on the counter, she took her hand and wrapped it around his neck while she rested her head on his chest. They’ve only known each other for hours but they were acting like they were a married couple. He leaned forward to kiss her neck biting down on the flesh.

“My fans would go crazy that we were fucking,” she broke the silence.

He chuckled, letting her go so she could finish her nightly routine. He sits on the step to get into the bathtub to watch her in the mirror. He admired the way she talked to him about her interests and how she got to where she is today and how the rollercoaster of her life lead her to finally being happy. She bought her family a house and paid off the mortgage for her successful Grammy-winning career.

Of course, there was more sex during their night, but it was mostly exchanging stories. She was hopeful that he felt more than just a one-night stand.

[phantasmagoric-acquaintance]

@taznovembercelebration day 13: honeymoon

[tw: mentions of alcohol]

“Ooh…” The receptionist clicks her computer mouse a few times, grimacing at her monitor.” “Bluejeans, you said?”

“Yeah, uh, that’s right. Is something…?”

She clasps her hands together, some sort of please-don’t-yell-at-me-I’m-only-doing-my-job gesture. Her ponytail swings as she turns emphatically to face Barry and Lup. “We had a room reserved for you, but last night’s guests left a pretty big mess, so unfortunately that room isn’t going to be ready tonight, and we’re pretty booked this week.”

 “Oh…” Barry glances at Lup out of the side of his eye. He can tell from her wide-eyed gape that she’s thinking the same thing he is­– what the hell are we supposed to do now?

 The receptionist’s attention returns to her computer. She clicks a few more times before she continues. “The good news­– well, I guess it’s not good news, per se, I think someone got left at the altar, but good for you guys specifically­, but– we had a last-minute cancellation. It only has one king bed and it’s been, um, prepared at the requests of the previous guests, but it is a bit of an upgrade, at no extra cost to you.”

 One king bed. Panic, or something like it, grips Barry’s chest.

 He and Lup were both scheduled to present posters at the Planar Physics Research Society’s biennial conference, and she’d proposed months ago that the two of them share a hotel room. It was an economical decision, and it had seemed obvious at the time. But as the week of the conference approached, Barry found himself dreading sharing a room with Lup.

 Not because he didn’t like her, though, but rather for the exact opposite reason.

 She had taken too much valium just before boarding the plane and ended up spending most of the plane ride asleep on Barry’s shoulder, and he was still very much not over that. How was he supposed to share a bed with her for the next four days?

 Then again, he didn’t want them to end up alone in a strange city with nowhere to stay.

He turned to face Lup, and she shrugged at him, her shoulders tense. “I mean, we could try to find somewhere else, but what if they’re all booked, too? And we already paid for this one. Plus, she said it’s a free upgrade. The bed…” He’s not sure if it’s a trick of the imagination, but Barry thinks he sees Lup blush a bit. “…i-it’s not ideal, but we can deal with it, I think.”

 She makes a good point. He turns back to the receptionist and takes a long breath. “Yeah, okay. We can stay here.”

 ---

They absolutely, positively cannot stay here.

Rather than the gentle, muted colors Barry had come to expect from hotel rooms, he and Lup are greeted by a tsunami of crimson, like something out of The Shining. Red wallpaper, red curtains, red carpet…

 …a big, circular bed draped in red quilts and adorned with red heart-shaped pillows. Red roses in a vase atop a red end table. A red heart-shaped box of chocolates leaning on two bottles of champagne.

 The front desk receptionist’s voice tears through Barry’s mind– “I think someone got left at the altar”– and understanding hits him like a truck, too little too late.

 “I-Is this the honeymoon suite?” Lup asks from just behind him. Her voice is smaller and shakier than he’s ever heard it, and he wishes he could sink into the absurd plush carpet, never to be seen again.

 “’Fraid so,” he manages. Rather than look at her, he’s glued his eyes to the giant mirror on the ceiling above the bed. Grossarooney. He already knows he’s going to spend his nights sleeplessly staring up at himself in that mirror, simmering in the horror of the situation.

 Lup walks out from behind him and towards what appears to be a jacuzzi, to his right. “Hooooooly shit.”

 “Is it­–?”

 “Heart-shaped? Yes, yes it is.”

 “Oh my God.”

 Lup picks up a bottle sitting on the ledge of the tub. “They left some bubble bath, though.”

 “Lup, please don’t tell me you’re thinking about using that?!?”

 She throws her hands up defensively, still holding the bottle in one. “O-obviously not while you’re in the room!” Her face matches the rest of the décor in the room in hue.

 “Hell, Lup. Do you know how many people have probably had sex in there? You’ll catch something.”

 “Barry, it’s a honeymoon suite. There’s probably not a surface in here that someone hasn’t fucked on.”

 “Oh my God.” Barry hides his face in his hands. “Why are we talking about this?”

 “Okay, look, I know it seems pretty bad­–“

 “Understatement of the year!”

 “­–but, you know, there’s a bright side here, and I think we’d be remiss not to take advantage of that.” Lup walks from the jacuzzi to the end table. She selects a chocolate from the heart-shaped box and drops it into her mouth before picking up a bottle of champagne and a plastic cup.

 “You’re not seriously going to drink that?”

 She shrugs and starts peeling the foil off the bottle “Why not?”

 “Don’t you have to stand by your poster at, like, 10 in the morning tomorrow?”                          

 “I’m not gonna have that much, Barry, jeez.”

 After thinking about it for a few seconds, Barry reaches for his own plastic cup. “Alright, hit me.”

 He’s going to need it to get through this weekend.

[the-iceni-bitch]

All I Need

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Words: 4512

Summary: Andy has been drowning his grief at your bar for weeks. You help him dry out after a particularly bad night.

Warnings: Major angst!, softish Andy Barber, slight AU (spoilers for Defending Jacob book), explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), descriptions of excessive drinking by adult of appropriate age, SMUT, 18+ only!

A/N: I have officially jumped on the love train for everyone’s favorite floofy lawyer. The sad!boi activated my caretaker instincts so this is pretty soft compared to my normal fics, and extremely angsty. Plus the smut kind of got away from me, I actually had to stop myself from writing even more! 

Checkout my masterlist and join my taglist if your inclined!

“Shit!! Jesse!” you screamed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, grabbing the bat from under the register as you jumped over the bar to break up the fight.

You swore under your breath as you moved toward the two men who were brawling. The smaller one seemed to have the upper hand, but it didn’t seem like the larger man was putting up much resistance. Maggie just stood there watching them with bambi eyes as you heard your giant cook rumble behind you, ripping off his apron to lend you a hand.

“What the fuck happened, Mags?” You hissed at your bartender, trying to haul the men apart with little success.

“Neal just came over and said he was sorry, and he just lost it.” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Granted, she probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with brawls in downtown Newton at a lawyer bar, but Neal sure seemed to invite violent reactions whenever he opened his stupid mouth.

You lost your patience and smashed an empty glass on the floor next to the two men, shocking them out of it. Neal rose to his feet with a look of fury on his face, but you kept your eyes on Andy Barber.

He’d spent pretty much every night this week since the funeral at your bar. His face was pallid and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he smelled like stale bourbon. Now he was rolling around on the floor aimlessly like a slug.

“Get the fuck out of my bar, Neal.” You said exasperatedly, spying the mostly empty bottle of bourbon on Barber’s table.

“What, I didn’t do anything!” the giant whined at you.

“Really?! You couldn’t just leave the poor guy alone? Jesus Neal! I don’t wanna see you in here for a month.” You hooked your arms under Andy’s and dragged him to sit on the bench, his head lolling drunkenly on his neck as you tried to assess how far gone he was.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Neal spat at you as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Have a great night!” You called after him, sarcastically, flipping him off.

“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Jesse asked, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head at you.

“Who cares, I hate that smug asshole. Hey, Andy?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he slapped your hand away lazily, growling under his breath. “You sneak behind the bar again, man?”

“I swear, I didn’t sell him a bottle, Y/N.” Her chin was quivering as tears slowly leaked down her cheeks.

“I know Mags, he’s a sneaky bastard. Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face.” You watched her scurry off to the bathroom and rubbed a hand over your face. “Fuck. I’m gonna call in Emma to give Maggie a hand. You ok locking up tonight Jess?”

“Sure, what’re you thinking?”

You just stared at Andy with overwhelming pity as he almost slid of the bench, forcing you to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna take him back to his hotel and help him dry out. Wouldn’t feel right just kicking him to the curb.”

“You’re too soft, Y/N.” Jess chortled at you.

“Yeah, maybe. Can you bring me an ice bucket?” You hooked his arm over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet so you could make your way out to your car.

Jess got your bucket from behind the bar as you hobbled outside. You managed to get your passenger door open and you slid Andy inside. His head rolled on his shoulders as you buckled him in before shoving the bucket into his lap.

“Andy, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking puke in my car!”

He grunted in acknowledgment and wrapped his arms around the bucket, curling himself over to hang his head above it.

“You sure you shouldn’t be taking him to a hospital, Y/N?”

“No… mmph… no fucking hospital!” Andy slurred at you as you slammed the door closed.

“I’m pretty sure he’d jump out of the car if he thought I was taking him to the hospital Jess.” You murmured as you circled to the driver’s side. “Thanks for closing, you’re the best!”

You watched him wave in your rearview as you drove off, making sure to keep one eye on Andy as he groaned over his bucket.

You reached his hotel in 15 minutes, grateful for the short drive as the man was looking greener by the second. You dug your hands in the pockets of his coat, searching for the keys to his room and you thankfully found them quickly. You were relieved to see he was on the first floor, as you didn’t trust your ability to safely get him up the stairs.

Getting Andy out of your car was a deal harder than getting him in, as he slipped further into his alcohol induced stupor. You almost dropped him when you wrenched him out of his seat, and you basically carried him to his room.

You somehow managed to get the door unlocked and drag him inside right when you heard his stomach roil. You cursed under your breath as you scrambled to get him to the bathroom, shoving his head in the toilet just in time as he emptied his gut.

“Shit, Andy.” You hissed, your hands on your knees as you tried your best to breathe deeply and get accustomed to the scent of his alcohol-soaked stomach contents. Once you were sure he was relatively stable, you moved to the kitchenette and filled a glass with tepid water before returning to find him leaned back against the wall. “Drink.” You ordered, kneeling beside him and bringing the glass up to his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours as he chugged the water down greedily. No sooner had he swallowed the glass’ contents than he was lunging forward to throw it back up. You tutted worriedly as you rubbed a hand over his back and used the other to start the shower.

“Why the fuck are you here, Y/N?” He grumbled miserably, not bothering to lift his head as you dragged his coat over his shoulders and threw out into the living area.

“I couldn’t have you killing yourself in my bar, Andy. Where’s your phone?” His stomach seemed to have calmed down, so you drew him to lean back against the wall and started to tug off his boots.

“S’in my back pocket.” He slurred at you. You rolled him over and drew the phone out of his jeans to set it on the counter. “You could’ve let me do it here.”

“Nah.” You said. “If you quit coming around, what excuse am I gonna have to kick Neal out?” You rolled up your sleeves and thrust your hand under the shower’s flow, checking the temperature. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!” You slapped him in the face as he started to doze off and you worked on getting him undressed. “I’m fucking serious, Barber, you don’t get to drink yourself to death on my watch.” You finally got his shirt off and started to drag his jeans down his legs.

“But why?” His eyes were boring into you now, pleading for some kind of answer to what possible reason there was for him to stick around as they welled up with tears.

You chewed your lip as you thought about it.

Andy had been a fixture at your bar for years. Always coming by for a celebratory drink after a win, or when he was working late on a difficult case. Even during Jacob’s trial, he’d stopped by with Joanna a few times to hash out details of the case. No matter how much stress he was under, you were always able to make him smile, and he always left a very generous tip no matter who was serving him. Your bar had been one of the only places he’d always felt welcome, and you had no qualms about kicking out anyone who wanted to give him a hard time.

Then the crash happened. He lost Jacob first; he was DOA to the hospital. His visits to your bar were more somber then. You didn’t try to make him smile, you barely even talked to him. But you’d drink with him in silence when he was the last patron in the bar, sitting across from him in his booth as the rest of the staff shut things down, occasionally placing your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles in a comforting gesture.

They had taken Laurie off life support 2 weeks ago, and after her funeral was when he really started to spiral. Rather than nursing his usual three drinks, he was downing whole bottles a night. You had to instruct your staff to cut him off after 6, or he would end up like he was tonight. This wasn’t the first time you had caught him with a stolen bottle.

You couldn’t say why you cared so much. You weren’t even sure you were really friends. But through everything that happened, you seemed to be the only constant, an anchor point for him as his world fell apart.

“I dunno Andy.” You murmured as you drew off his socks before rolling him into the tub with a lurch, making him gasp as the cold water hit his skin. “I guess I’d miss you.”

He glared at you as he shivered under the shower’s stream, huddled around himself in only his boxers.

“Do I need to wash you, or do you think you can handle that on your own?” You asked, handing him a washcloth and some soap.

“I can handle it.” He hissed, snatching them from your hands as he braced himself against the wall and drew himself slowly to his feet.

“Good.” You started gathering up his soiled clothes. “Make sure to wash the vomit out of your beard.”

He ripped the shower curtain closed and tossed his boxers over the rail at you, grumbling the whole time. You bagged up his dirty laundry and set some clean sweats on the counter in the bathroom before you set to work on cleaning the rest of the hotel room, doing your best not to gag at the week-old takeout containers.

Andy staggered out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wobbled on still drunk legs.

“How’s your stomach?” You asked, stretched out on the couch and sipping a glass of ginger ale.

“S’better.” He murmured, stumbling his way to the bed and collapsing on it with a groan.

“And your head?”

“Fuck you.” He murmured with his face buried in the pillows.

You grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and set it next to the bed. “Make sure you sleep on your side or your stomach. I’ll be on the couch.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“No, stay with me.” He mumbled, peeking up at you through those stupid long eyelashes, his damp hair drooping over his forehead.

“You’re still drunk, Andy.” You scolded, snatching your wrist away from him. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about it before, but there was no way you were going to let him make a move on you after the night he had. “I’m just 20 feet away, here to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit overnight.”

You turned back to find him passed out, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes and turned off the lights before collapsing on the couch in a huff.

Andy woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs as you slammed the hotel room door, carrying some takeout from the greasy spoon down the road.

“Shit, I was hoping to sneak out before you were up.” You murmured as he rose up off the bed, his bedhead a sight to behold. “I got you breakfast.”

“What happened last night?” He groaned, his stomach churning as he inhaled the smell of the food you had brought in.

“Well, you stole a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my bar, drank more than half of it, then fought Neal.” You shoved a plate of food in front of him as he sat down at the island. “Then I brought you back here and held your hair while you puked your guts out.”

“Fuck.” He murmured, fighting the urge to gag as he eyed the plate in front of him. “How did I get in these sweats?”

“Don’t worry, I dumped you in the shower in your boxers, no looks at the goods. And even if I had, last night was decidedly unsexy.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He murmured, burying his head in his hands.

“Mmhmm. Eat.” You ordered, making him groan. “Suck it up, Barber, you’ll feel better after a couple of bites.” You watched him shovel a bite in his mouth and chew dutifully, taking a deep breath as you steeled yourself for what you wanted to say. “Are you talking to anyone, Andy?”

“’M talking to you.” He said around his second mouthful off breakfast, starting to feel a bit better.

“I mean like a shrink.” You said, seriously.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw his fork down on his plate, pissed. This was none of your business.

“Andy, you’ve been drinking yourself stupid every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s not healthy, and I don’t want to be responsible for you ruining your life.”

He gave you a snort of derision and rolled his eyes as he stood up to walk away. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” now you were angry. “I care about you asshole! You think I enjoyed last night? I’m sick of it!” You followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around sharply.

“It’s not your problem, Y/N.” He seethed at you, ripping your hand off his shoulder as he took a menacing step towards you.

“You made it my problem when you decided to use my bar as the stage for your descent to rock bottom, dick!” You were yelling now. “Y’know what, fuck this. Figure your shit out Barber. Until then, don’t step foot in my bar.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you as you slipped your coat back over your shoulders.

“Fuck!!” Andy screamed before charging after you.

He managed to catch up to you as you were about to open your car door and he slammed it shut over your shoulder, pinning you against the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I swear to god, Andy, I’ll mace you.” You hissed at him, turning as you dug your hand in your bag. He wrapped a massive hand around your wrist, stopping your turn halfway.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing his forward to yours as he leaned against you. “I need you.”

“Andy…” this was such a bad idea.

“Why’d you stay last night?” He muttered, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek. “You said you care about me.”

“I do care, Andy.” You sighed as he took another step into you, pressing his body against yours. “Fuck, what’re you doing?”

“Stay.” He whispered, dipping his face to catch your lips with his and sending every objection you had right out of your head.

You sighed against him as you wrapped your hands in his hair, rolling your body against his. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip before pressing it against yours, his hands moving down to your hips and drawing you into him. You let out a whine as you felt his growing erection grinding against you.

“Shit.” You hissed as you felt a rush of arousal soak your panties. “Andy, we need to go back to the room.”

“Right.” He muttered, deepening your kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you off the ground as he drew you away from your car and started to head back towards the room, thankful he had left the door ajar.

You kicked the door closed as he carried you inside, giving a small huff when he sat down on the bed with you straddling his lap. You slipped your coat over your shoulders and tossed it aside as his mouth devoured yours, lips molding to each other as your tongues tangled.

Andy slipped his fingers under the hem of your tee and drew it over your head, throwing it on top of your jacket before unclasping the front of your lacy bra and nuzzling himself between your breasts. He rolled the two of you gently until he was on top of you.

You sighed as Andy moved his mouth over the slope of your breast to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking softly as he moved one hand to dip beneath the waistline of your jeans. He groaned against your chest when he found you sopping wet for him.

“God, I need you, sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin as he worked at unbuttoning your fly, dragging your jeans and panties down your legs and flinging them aside before bringing his hand back up to cup your heat. “Need to make you feel good. Lose myself in you for just a bit.” He moved his lips up to brush against your neck as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick over your mound and making you gasp, your fingers gripping his massive biceps tightly as he teased you.

“Andy, please.” You whined, canting your hips into his hand, your clit throbbing with need as the pads of his fingers brushed against it.

He brought his face up to yours as he plunged one thick finger into you, a smile teasing his lips as he watched your face screw up in bliss. He dipped his lips to meet yours as he added another finger, swallowing your small cry.

“You feel so good, beautiful. So warm and tight.” He scissored his fingers inside of you, drawing lewd squelches from your canal as your arousal soaked his hand. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.”

You scrabbled your hands over the broad muscles of his back as he curled his fingers inside you, massaging that soft, spongy muscle deep within your canal. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring soft praises as you came apart beneath him.

You mewled as he inserted a third finger, your cunt clenching around him as you thrust yourself onto his hand, fucking yourself on his digits.

“You close love?” He asked, his thumb brushing against your clit before he started massaging it gently. Pressing soft circles into your core as you writhed beneath him.

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered. “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……”

He felt you tense underneath him when he drove his thumb into your clit, hard. You choked on your tongue as every muscle in your body vibrated with pleasure, your release gushing over Andy’s hand and soaking him to the wrist. He felt your nails digging through his sweatshirt as you came.

He kept his fingers moving inside you as your rode out your orgasm, your body rolling in waves underneath him as your pleasure wracked you, leaving you breathless. Once you sagged back against the bed, he withdrew them, disconnecting from you reluctantly to remove his own clothes. Staring down at you, all he wanted was to press himself against every inch of you. Claim every slope and curve of your body for his own.

He gripped one ankle and brought it up to his mouth, skimming his lips over the jut of bone as his fingers skirted over your calf, pressing into the firm muscle there. His lips followed his fingers, searing your skin with each lingering kiss and brush of his tongue as he worked his way further up your leg. Your cunt clenched around nothing when he reached your thigh, his beard scratching at the soft skin between your legs as he marked you with lips and teeth. You tangled your fingers in the blankets and moaned when he bypassed your core, moving up the line of your hip as he claimed you.

Your breath was coming quicker as worked his way over your body. His lips swept against your abdomen now, his tongue dipping into your navel as he nuzzled over the midline of your torso. All you could focus on was the feel of his mouth on your skin, leaving a trail of electricity as marked you as his. He laved his tongue over first one nipple, then the other as you arched into him, pressing your thighs together as your pussy throbbed with need.

He moved to trace the curves of your shoulders, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed his way down first one arm, then the other. You were panting now, your thighs soaked as arousal seeped out of you. Andy traced his fingers over your torso, skimming over the slopes of your breasts as he moved to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking gently to draw light bruises as his hands moved lower, kneading into your hips. He drew your knees apart slowly, slotting himself between your thighs as he dragged his hard length through your folds, making you keen as he ground into you.

You were a mess, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips rocked against you. You were desperate for release, every inch of you tingling with need and when Andy’s cock brushed against your clit, you lost it. You threw your head back in ecstasy as your fingers scrabbled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something to keep you anchored.

Andy just stared at you, one massive palm cupping your cheek as he watched you falling apart. He needed you so much, you were the only constant he had. The only person who didn’t make him feel like a charity case or a failure. He hated what he was becoming, what the secrets and the tragedy were turning him into, but he knew if you stayed with him, he could come back.

“Y/N,” He whispered as you relaxed and he stilled his hips, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as you slowly opened your eyes, gazing up at him through your lust blown pupils. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“Andy,” a small voice in the back of your mind was trying to warn you, telling you not to commit to anything now while he was still drowning in his grief. But you were overwhelmed with the pleasurable assault he had subjected you to and when he pressed his lips to yours again, that little voice went away. “I promise.” You gasped when he released you.

He grinned at you as he lined himself up, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed into your eyes. You were so wet that he slid into you easily, bottoming out right away with a hiss.

“Fuck, honey.” He murmured against your lips as you whined, his hips setting a languorous pace as he pulled out halfway before thrusting back into you. “God, you’re so tight, you feel amazing.”

You couldn’t reply, you could already feel another orgasm building as you thrust your hips to meet his, mewling softly as the warm coil in your stomach tightened. You ran your fingers over his auburn beard before burying them in his hair, panting into his mouth as he brought you closer to the edge.

Andy brought one hand between the two of you and strummed his thumb against your clit, making you tighten your fists in his hair until it was painful.

“God, Andy, right there.” You sobbed, your cunt clamping around him as he moved to bury his face in your neck, nuzzling against the hollow behind your ear.

“Go ahead, beautiful.” He scraped his teeth over the edge of your jaw as he drove his thumb against you, and you screamed.

You fluttered around him as your body spasmed, multiple waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your knees gripping around his hips and squeezing as your torso rolled against his. You sank back against the bed with a sigh as your body relaxed, Andy still fucking into you and starting to pick up speed.

“I’m gonna move you, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you and rolled until you were on top of him, pressing you against his chest as he kissed you deeply. “Wanna watch you ride me.”

You gave him a smile as you sat up, bracing your hands against his chest as you ground yourself against him. He was seated in you deeper than anyone had ever been, his cock dragging against that secret spot inside you with each drive of your hips, making you groan. He thrust up into you and groaned at the bounce of your tits while you let out a cry at his tip hitting your cervix.

Andy dug his fingers into your hips as he took over, pistoning up into with increasing speed as your cunt clamped around him. Your head rolled loosely on your shoulders as you let go, eyes fluttering as you felt another orgasm gathering.

You gripped his hips tightly with your thighs as it hit you like a truck, sobbing with pleasure while your muscles shivered over him. Andy sat up quick and caught you before you could collapse back on the bed, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck and catching you lips with his as his hips picked up even more speed.

“Shit.” He murmured against your lips. You felt his cock twitch inside you as his hips faltered in their rhythm. “Are you on the pill honey?”

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak as Andy’s violent thrusts had knocked all the breath out of your lungs and you were gasping.

“Good. Fuck.” He nipped at your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat.

You felt warmth spread through your abdomen as he shot his release into you, his thick spend coating the slick walls inside you and leaking out over your thighs as he fucked you through it. He slowed his thrusts as you felt him soften inside you, groaning into your mouth as he came down and collapsed back against the bed, holding you close to his chest.

His chest hair scratched against your cheek as he breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate back down and rubbing his fingers over your spine as you panted on top of him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content to lie in the comfort of each other’s arms. You made Andy feel safe, and he made you feel needed, and that was all the two of required for now.

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[taeescript]

I Promise (V)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> Some people have the gifted ability of music; others of mathematics; some perhaps as persuasive argumentators. You have a “gift”, if one would like to call it that. It is the ability to know when somebody is telling a lie.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> hoseok x reader; ?? x reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> mafia!au

𝔴/𝔠 >> 3.5k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> nothing here

𝔞/𝔫 >> enjoy this chapter. sorry it’s taking a while, but here we are building up! feedback and comments always appreciated (: taglist open!

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The bell chimed from the giant clock designed to sit in the middle of the even larger room. Everything about this place was enlarged: there were large windows decorating the walls allowed for the wall to be sun-kissed and a giant American flag hung down for the ceiling. All around were people rushing and pushing each other to get to where they needed to go whether it be work or to meet up with friends or family. You had only been standing underneath the clock for a few minutes, but the amount of times you had been pushed by other people was already more than you could count with both your hands. The voices of New Yorkers and tourists created an ever growing buzz at the base of your neck in which you could not shake. This was the biggest reason you hated to be in a place with so many people. There were too many voices that you could not block out. You looked up at the clock and saw that it was 8:00pm. How was Grand Central Station still this busy when the night was clearly upon them? Where did all these people need to go that they all congregated at this one area? You shimmied a little in the cocktail dress you were currently wearing and tried to ignore the glances of strangers in your direction. You and Hoseok had been on surveillance at Ecstasie for about a week now and tonight was the big night. The two of you would make contact with Hong Jung Yee but only if Hoseok actually made it on time so that you guys could check in together to the hotel across from the club. From the small silver clutch you were holding, you felt your phone vibrate. You held the buzzing device in your hand and stared at it before holding it to your ear. “Hello?” you answered the phone tentatively. This was the first call you had received from anybody back in Seoul. There was the text from Seohyun two days ago, but your roommate had only texted to ask if she could eat the last tub of ice cream from the fridge. You doubted that Seohyun was sober enough to realize that you had disappeared for the past week and a half. “Y/N?” Namjoon’s deep voice came into your ears, “I’ve actually reached Y/N?” “Yes,” you said, still wary of why he had called you. “Where the fuck have you been?” he growled angrily. There it was. That was the reaction you had expected from Namjoon when (if) he called. “Um, somewhere,” you replied. You felt it unnecessary that he knew exactly where you were. You knew that one, he’d be angry that it was not in Seoul and two, if he found out the exact location, he’d probably try to come and find you which led to three: you couldn’t allow him to be near you for the risk of his own life. There were too many unknown factors in this plan for Hong Jung Yee. “You’re not at home. You haven’t been to work. Seohyun said she hasn’t seen you for at least a week. Can you at least give me a more concrete answer instead of ‘somewhere’?” he sounded genuinely concerned. “I’m safe,” you tried to give him comfort. So Seohyun had noticed. Seems like you gave too little credit to your roommate. “Why do you do this to me, Y/N? Am I not allowed to be worried for somebody I care about?” he said. From your periphery, you could see Hoseok walking up to you in a dazzling white suit. He grinned when he saw that you were looking at him. He had paired the outfit with a light pink shirt in which he left the buttons undone to allow his chiselled chest to peak through. There were a lot more glances in his direction than when you stood here in your champagne cocktail dress. “I’m fine,” you repeated hastily into the phone. As much as you wanted to talk to Namjoon, you did not want him to find out that you had come to New York because of BTS. “I wish you would have had at least given either myself or Seohyun a call. I know you always think that people don’t care about you but there are people who do,” he was continuing on. Hoseok slid up next to you and put a hand on your waist. You glared at him and tried to move away but he only held you tighter. “You look ravishing tonight, Mrs. Chen,” he leaned into your ear. “Y/N, is that – ” you heard Namjoon start to say into your other ear. You pushed Hoseok away and hurriedly said, “I’ll have to talk to you later. It’s getting late here and I’m tired.” You hung up as the monotonic lady from the station said over the PA system, “Welcome to Grand Central Station. It is currently 8:37. Have a good evening.” “Who were you talking to?” Hoseok asked as you started walking out of the station. “A friend,” you replied. They were late to meeting the rest of the members and if there was one thing you hated more than being lied to, it was being late. “I didn’t know you had friends,” he mocked. The air was cool around them as they walked a couple of blocks down to the hotel they had booked. Now that they were walking closer to where the rest of the clubs were and fancy hotels, the two of them blended in perfect. You did not respond to his comment. “Walk faster, would you? We’re late.” He widened his stride to match yours. “It’ll be fine. The rest of the members will be waiting for us anyways.” “They wouldn’t have to wait if you hadn’t been late,” you scowled in return. They quickly checked into their hotel room when they arrived and took an uneventful ride up to their floor. Hoseok was wrong. When they walked into the room, only two members of BTS were in the room. Yoongi sat in his corner with three laptops open and his fingers already flying over the keyboard. Jin had his back towards them, staring out the window at Ecstasie across. He turned when he heard the door being unlocked. “I’ve heard of the saying, ‘fashionably late’ but you two took it a little far this time, don’t you think?” You had never been scolded by Seokjin before and you felt uncomfortable under his piercing glare. You opened your mouth to explain but Hoseok beat you to it, “There was a pretty lady down the street who needed my help in finishing a drink. I really tried to resist but she insisted.” Seokjin turned his glare away from you and towards Hoseok instead. “I’m sure she did. You two come here and let Yoongi gear you up. The others have already gone out to their respective stations.” They followed his instructions and Yoongi patched listening devices on the two of them. He had these personally built for them so they fit perfectly and blended in with the outfit. To Hoseok, he handed a knife. “Hoseok, keep this in your pant leg. Metal detectors won’t sense this material but it’s sharp enough in case anything goes wrong.” To you, he opened your purse and dropped in two sticks of lip stick. You raised an eyebrow. “They’re pepper spray,” he explained. “You give him a knife and then me pepper spray,” you were unamused. “You can press the other end and it’ll be a taser?” he shrugged. You accepted the small token nevertheless. Seokjin was now pacing around the room, his mind clearly occupied with the immensity of everything that was happening tonight. When he saw that they were all prepared, he took out two familiar gold cards. “This is the form of currency at Ecstasie. They don’t allow you to carry cash or bring your own credit cards in case they can be traced back during transactions. I’ve got the boys working on getting money as we speak. The two of you only need to get in contact with Hong Jung Yee and get him interested. I doubt that we will have any type of transaction tonight but stay vigilant. Jimin is already there and the rest of us will meet up at the rendezvous point later on. Yoongi will be watching all of us and I’ll be in constant contact.” He handed them the cards. “Please, be careful,” he urged. Tonight, the card felt heavier than before in your hands. You slipped the card into your purse and tried to look confident. Hoseok twirled his between his fingers before putting it into his own pocket. “Don’t worry, Hyung. I’ll take care of her,” he slung his arm over your shoulder again. “Target’s arrived,” Yoongi spoke from his spot. The three of them snapped into attention. Mr. and Mrs. Chen turned and left the room, making their way towards the club across the street.

...

The club was already packed full with bodies as they swayed to the music. There was the smell of expensive cigars from VIPs and VVIPs who hung out in the upper balcony where those that were lucky enough to get into the club stayed at the bottom. Beautiful girls sashayed around tables getting tips and bringing drinks. All around them, people were dressed in their most expensive items of clothing and doing their best to act like they did belong. You and Hoseok walked past all of this and instead towards a small hidden door tucked behind the bathrooms. Nobody usually walked this far into the club but anybody who did would notice how heavily guarded the bathroom was. The largest of the guards held a hand and stopped Hoseok from entering. The two of them flashed their gold cards, and that was only when they were let through. Each time you stepped inside, your breath was knocked out of you. Gold decorated every part of this underground market. Large crystal chandeliers hung every few meters apart on the ceiling and uniformed attendants would appear and disappear with the snap of fingers. In here as well, wealthy socialites wore the newest Vera Wang or Valentino. They gathered not around the dance floor but around gambling tables. Each night, thousands upon millions of dollars were bet as the richest battled each other to show who had more worth to their name. Further down the large room, the bright decorations were less extravagant and rows of closed doors met the eye. This was where the exchange of other possessions occurred. “Mr. and Mrs. Chen, welcome,” a solemn man greeted them in English. You nodded her head in response. Although their appearances at the club were not numerous, Mr. and Mrs. Chen had been a rising name in Ecstasie. They were a couple in which nobody knew much about but brought with them an enormous amount of wealth each time they arrived. Mr. Chen was swift with his hands at the gambling table while Mrs. Chen liked to watch. The sellers were persistent in trying to interest the two of them but all of them were rejected politely. There was only one person in which they were rumoured to be interested in. Hoseok took his usual seat at the largest blackjack table. The other gentlemen there smiled politely at him but you knew what they were thinking. All of them hated when Hoseok played as he would bet millions of dollars and leave with even more. “Honey, blow on these cards for good luck,” he waved you over. You did as you were told, the only time you would not dare to object with all the eyes upon you. The man across from Hoseok’s seat cast a glance at your cleavage when you bent down. You glared back at him.

Hoseok made a show of complaining about his terrible hand before slamming down a win. The table was seen to silently groan in unison as he took his prize money. He made a hand for the dealer to go again. You had to hide a yawn. Yoongi had told them that Hong Jung Yee was here tonight and you wondered what took him so long to reach out to them. Had they not been obvious enough in trying to capture his attention?

“Mrs. Chen,” the attendant from earlier walked up to you, “I have a message for you from one Mr. Hong Jung Yee.” 

You froze and put a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. He did not move but continued on his game. “Go ahead,” you told the attendant. 

“He’s requesting the presence of both yourself and Mr. Chen. He is waiting inside the Emerald Room.” You did not recognize the name of the room. Each VVIP producer held a special room in which they could conduct their business. To keep the nature of their business secretive, the producers would rotate rooms during the week. When a room was given the name of a jewel, it meant that the room had been bought and only that particular producer was allowed to use it. You bent down and whispered into Hoseok’s ear, “Hong Jung Yee wants to meet us.” He again did not respond. You took a deep inhale and spoke in a louder volume. “Love,” you said through clenched teeth, using the pet name he had insisted on, “I’m a little bored. Shall we take a walk?” At your voice, he smiled warmly at you and took your hand. He bowed slightly to the other men at the table before tapping his gold card at the end of the table to obtain his prize money. “Sorry to leave so early gentlemen, but this one is just a little needy at times.” Nobody at the table said anything. The two of them waited for the attendant to speak again to tell them where to go but he did not. Hoseok spoke to him, “Well, do you expect us to stand here all night or are you going to tell us which direction we should walk?” The attendant looked Hoseok in the eye and shook his head. “Sorry sir. But I will be leading you there personally. I would not like for either you or Mrs. Chen to get lost in here.” There was something his voice that unnerved you. Hoseok shrugged and took your hand as you walked down the hallway with him. You bypassed the back tables and entered deep into the market. This was a place where neither of them had walked before and you were slightly glad that Hoseok was there with you, although you would never admit it. His warm hand helped calm your heart. The three of them walked through a door into which led to another long hallway. Here, there were minimal lights and the faint sound of loud yelling and thumping music reached their ears. You found it strange that you could hear the sounds of the club from so deep within. They reached a door that was literally painted an emerald green. It was here that their escort stopped. He gestured for them to walk in. At the head of the office, an older man sat at the table. He was surrounded by three guards and another smaller man was at the corner of the room, rummaging through the multitude of wires that had been strung out. In their presence, the older man stood up and opened his arms, “Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Chen! This is such a pleasure to finally put faces to the names I’ve been hearing about all week.” You were suffocated into a tight hug along with Hoseok. “I hope you don’t mind that. I hug all my potential business partners. Creates a sense of bonding right off the bat, you know what I’m saying? Mr. Chen, take a seat. And Daniel, bring a blanket for Mrs. Chen to cover her legs as they sit. I heard it’s a customary to do so in Seoul.” Hong Jung Yee was a large man. He towered over the two of them, stretching a little over 6 foot 3 and you could feel the strength of his arms in their brief encounter. He had a large booming voice that reminded you of the announcers you often found on television. When you were all seated, he clapped loudly, “I’m so glad to see the two of you. There aren’t many Korean people in this city and just the fact that the two of you want to do business with me? I am so incredibly honoured!” Hoseok looked like he wanted to say something but Hong Jung Yee continued talking, “Now, now… When I heard about the two of you, I was immediately intrigued. I mean, I’ve had dealings with many men of your status, Mr. Chen. But for you to bring the lovely Mrs. Chen to this meeting as well!” He waved his hand as if to dismiss the thought he had meant to say, “Needless to say, I am very interested in what my services could possibly offer you.” Neither Hoseok nor you knew what to say. Hong Jung Yee mistook your silence as hesitance and pointed to each of his guards. “Do not worry. Whatever you say in here only remains here. If any of these three gorillas speak of it, I’ll personally see that they have their tongues removed. As for that little one in the corner, we had a small malfunction of the air conditioner here earlier so he’s just fixing that. Hey, you won’t be speaking outside this room, right?” The small man squeaked out, “No, Mr. Hong. I would not dare.” Hong Jung Yee clapped again and the sound echoed off the walls. You turned in your seat to look at the small man. You met Jimin’s eyes. “Mr. Hong,” Hoseok started. “Call me Jung Yee. My close friends all do and I want to become your close friend, Mr. Chen.” “Jung Yee,” Hoseok started again, “I have heard much about you. And I hope you take it in no offense what I’m about to say. In my line of work, I must be extremely careful. I only work with people I trust and the way my trust can be earned is if I see the products or services you offer with my own eyes.”   As Hoseok had been speaking, you heard Yoongi’s voice in your ear whisper, “Stall for two minutes, Hoseok. Jimin doesn’t move as fast as I do.” Hong Jung Yee’s throaty laughter caused you to flinch in your seat. “Of course, Mr. Chen, of course! Please, allow me to give the both of you a tour.” He got out of his seat and extended a hand towards you. You grasped it and noticed that his hands were rough and full of scars. You shivered in thinking that whatever had caused them probably brought this man to the status of his today. Your eyes briefly met Jimin’s again as you stepped out of the Emerald Room. The guards followed behind them and you slightly in the front. You looked at the backs of both Hoseok and Jung Hong Yee as they walked through the hallways, away from the direction they had entered. The sounds of yelling and music continued to grow in your ears until it became a deafening roar. You knew that they were not from the club upstairs any more. A black curtain was parted for them and the group walked inside. Bright lights flashed all around them and the drone of electronic music filled the room. The smell of sickening perfume mixed with sweat was pungent to the senses. All around, men were gathered to the centre of a stage where red lights pointed down towards a long runway. A single man stood there at the moment with a microphone in his hand. There was the sound of a whip as a cage was lowered from the top towards the beginning of the runway. It was draped in a velvet curtain and its entrance caused all the men around the stage to hoot and holler. To the back of runway, a larger cage stood where a group of girls were pressed against. The announcer yelled, “Number 172!” At the sound of his words, the velvet curtain was removed and a glittering woman walked out of the cage. She had on a long jacket and her face revealed that she looked no more than sixteen. She was clearly inexperienced walking in the heels but she made her way across the stage until she stood in the centre with the announcer. The announcer hyped up the crowd and at the noise, she dropped her jacket and stood there in a suit that barely covered her skin.

...

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱:  @scuzmunkie , @blimpintime​

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 36

Chapter 36

Series Masterlist

Summary: With the stress of the pregnancy and planning the wedding, you and Fred get away for a couple days.

Warning: Swearing, smut

Word Count: 6500

“Mommy why can’t I come?” Oliver whines.

It’s the all-star break, and you are all in California, Fred’s parents flew out and met you 2 days ago. You had a relaxing day at the beach with them and then yesterday you all ventured to Disney Land. Oliver practically dragged Ernst and Fred around the park on every ride, and the twins spent the entire time taking in the sights and sounds, crying when you tried to get a picture of them with Mickey Mouse.

Now Fred has a two day trip planned for the two of you, leaving the boys with his parents before you all fly back to Pittsburgh. Oliver has been loving the time with everyone the past couple days and doesn’t understand why everyone can’t stay together.

Fred rejoined the Penguins shortly after Christmas and you immediately noticed a shift in Oliver’s behaviour. He had more temper tantrums and some days he cried over the most ridiculous things; one day he cried because his bath was “too wet” and another day because you didn’t let him eat jam. Not with food, just actual jam with a spoon.

You know part of it is him being a toddler, but a big part of it is because he was so used to having Fred around. Once Fred was ready to return the Penguins were leaving on a road trip, so he went from having Fred around every day to not seeing him for eight straight days. And on the second day that was when everything started.

Just as he was readjusting the all-star break came and Oliver re-attached himself to Fred and basically hasn’t let him out of sight. While you fully expected the entire break to be spent with your boys; Fred wanted to spend a couple days away just the two of you. He says you are too stressed with the kids, the pregnancy and planning the wedding and you deserve a couple days away from everything.

“No I’m sorry bud you have to stay with grandma and grandpa for a couple days” you say to your pouting toddler.

“I want to come” he stomps his foot in displeasure. As much as you know you can’t encourage his bad behaviour by smiling or laughing; sometimes it’s hard. And this is one of those times. A small smirk forms on your face as your eyes look away trying to not show him any emotion when you hear Fred’s heavy steps enter the room.

“Ollie mom said no so it means no” he scolds.

Oliver exhales heavily and stomps his feet again. Your eyes find Fred and he just shakes his head at you watching as you hold in some laughter. “Keep it up and you’re going on timeout” Fred says sternly. Oliver huffs in response and walks out of the room and you finally allow a few chuckles to fall from your lips.

“You’re unbelievable” he mumbles putting the last few items in the bag,

“I know but it’s been like this for 3 weeks and sometimes I just can’t take it seriously” you reply and Fred rolls his eyes.

You feel a slight tingling in your core; the assertiveness isn’t something you normally see from Fred. You don’t like that it’s directed towards Oliver’s bad behaviour, but when he uses that tone it gets you wet; and your pregnancy hormones don’t help either.

You take a deep breathe through your nose but as you exhale through your mouth a small moan escapes. Fred stops zipping up the bag to shoot you a questioning glance. His eyes scan over your face “you alright” he questions and you give him a slight nod before he leaves the room.

Pretty soon you and Fred are on the road driving along the coast. Fred left the rental SUV with his parents so they can fit the kids. The two of you have the windows of the car down; the warm California air blowing through your hair. Fred has one hand on the wheel the other glued to your stomach hoping to feel one of the kicks that recently started.

You stare out the window breathing in the salty air, feeling the sun kiss your shoulder. Apart from some minor traffic the drive is relatively smooth. After about two hours you pull up to a beautiful Spanish hotel. It has light coloured stucco on the outside surrounding large pillars and archways; you pull your sunglasses down your nose to scan around the grounds.

There are a few fountains, and a couple small buildings in the distance. Each building is fixed with black clay tiles and there are multiple palm trees surrounding the property. Fred doesn’t stop at the main building, instead continuing down the property road.

You see some beautiful rolling hills in the background from the Los Peñasquitos Canyon. You take in the sights when you see a tee for a golf course. You immediately turn your head to Fred with a smirk and he shifts in his seat chuckling slightly.

“Is this a vacation for us or a golf trip for you” you tease.

“I can’t help it if the best vacation spot in San Diego also has the only championship golf course” he laughs. You shake your head pushing your glasses back over your eyes as he pulls up to another building putting the car in park.

“Don’t worry I didn’t bring my clubs I’m not going to golf” he gets out of the car and walks around to open your door.

“Oh that’s a shame” you take his hand and step out of the car “could have used a couple hours alone.”

Fred gently closes your door and pushes you back against the car. You feel the warm metal on the back of your arms, Fred closing the gap between your bodies. He stares down at you, bringing his hands to either side of you. “I don’t plan on leaving you alone for a minute” he growls. He is so close you can feel his mustache on your ear, his warm breath on your neck sending goosebumps down your spine.

You moan smelling his cologne and he quickly turns away, leaving your knees to almost give out. He grabs the bag and grips your wrist pulling you inside. You expect it to be a building with a couple separate hotel rooms; instead it is a giant foyer with marble stone and a spiral staircase. Fred leaves the bag on the ground and pulls you down the hall.

You walk by a beautiful kitchen but Fred doesn’t let you stop mumbling something about how you won’t be spending any time there. Next is the massive living room with a floor to ceiling fireplace and a large bar that connect to a private terrace that overlooks the golf course and pools. Despite the proximity to the pools your area is secluded, various shrubs protecting your privacy.

There is a longue area with a small hot tub; you stand in awe of your surroundings when Fred’s large hands come up behind you. His hands gently rub over your stomach, Fred leans down his breath on your neck.

“Don’t worry I got them to turn the temp down for you” he mumbles against your jaw. Your neck tilts wrapping his arms tighter around you; leaning back into his chest. “This place is amazing babe” you say feeling his lips on your shoulder. Through his gentle kisses the straps of your dress fall down your skin “you’re amazing” he murmurs against you “let’s go see the rest.”

You pull your strap back up as he tugs you inside and up the stairs. You explore the first two doors each bedroom being large enough to be the master, before Fred opens the beautiful oversized double doors. There is a California King overlooking the deck perfect for watching sunsets. You take a few minutes exploring all the different rooms before returning to find Fred sitting on the end of the bed.

“Babe we don’t need all this” you say hands landing on his shoulder. His find the back of your thighs pushing the hem of your dress up as his thumbs dig into your skin.

It is a three bedroom private house, each room having an ensuite and walk-in closet. The master however has two closets, an office and an attached gym space. While this could be useful for an extended stay with the kids, two nights with just the two of you means most of the space will be unused.

“It’s our babymoon” he shrugs.

“Babymoon?” you ask laughing slightly, pulling his lips onto yours.

“Yeah it’s a vacation before the baby comes” he explains.

“We didn’t do one with the other two pregnancies”

“Well with Ollie I think it’s pretty obvious why we didn’t, but I did take you to Denmark. And with the twins I don’t think you would have lasted in a car that long for us to get away. Although given what happened I wish I had of planned something, maybe things would have been different” he says tailing off for a second. “But I figured since it’s our last pregnancy we should do one. And you just need some time away babe.”

“Okay but do we need all of this? It’s a big space”

“I considered getting a room in the main building” he pulls you closer to his broad shoulders one hand trailing up to your ass “but I didn’t want to get a noise complaint.”

He gives you a firm squeeze eliciting a squeal from you. He falls onto his back pulling you down on top of him. The two of you spend a few hours tangled in bed, clothes haphazardly strewn around the room. Fred switches from his mouth to his fingers to his hard cock, you’ve had so many orgasms you’ve lose count. By the end you don’t know what causes you to pull apart; the soreness of your heat or the rumbling of your stomachs.

**

It’s your last afternoon away and time has flown by. The two of you have taken a few walks around the property, and are now on a hike into the canyon to a small waterfall. Since you are on the resort during off-peak time and haven’t seen anyone since you left for your walk over a half hour ago.

You read about a nearby waterfall and wanted to check it out. Fred was concerned the walk might be too hard, even though you aren’t that pregnant yet but you managed to convince him to do the short hike through the canyon.

About twenty minutes in you could feel the sweat dripping down your back so you were very happy when you rounded the corner and found the pool. Today is abnormally hot day in California, so the refreshingly cool water was nice against your warm skin.

You spent a few minutes wading through the water before finding your way to the waterfall. You tilt your head back running your hands through your hair as the water trails down your body. You glance at Fred from the corner of your eye; his gaze locked on your body. He watches the water roll off your sun kissed skin and over your bump; and you see the fabric of his shorts begin to tent.

“The waterfall is nice” you smile walking over to him.

“Looked like it” he smirks as your hands wrap around his tanned neck.

“I brought you here because you told me the view is spectacular” he says pressing his hands into your back. “You have spent the entire time looking at me.”

“My view is very nice” you smirk up at him. His once golden brown eyes are pooling with lust as he closes the gap; pulling your lips to his. Your tongues danced in the others mouth for who know how long. Not only does his skin have the glow of the sun he tastes like it too.

The kiss starts slow and passionate but quickly turns into a fight for dominance, tongues against one another, teeth slightly clashing. Every time one of you pulls away to catch your breath the others lips would quickly find them. Your lips are swollen, your chap stick smeared on his, you can taste the sweat that has pooled on his upper lip. His fingers begin to slowly trail down your warm skin, slipping under your bikini bottoms.

A light breeze rustles the leaves of the trees; the waterfall gently crashes into the water around you. That alone is enough to take your breath away, but instead the man in front of you keeps stealing it. He spins you around; your hands landing on one of the large granite boulders surrounding the waterfall.

His knee gently spreads your legs apart, one of his large hands slinking down the front of your bathing suit. It reaches your core, gently stroking over it.

You whimper at the contact. Partially because of how much you want him, the other part because of how sensitive you are. His tongue grazes along the skin of your neck; biting and sucking love marks.

A shiver dances down your spine while his hands trail over your waist. Growling, he presses his clothed member into your back. He begins to push your bathing suit down your legs when you hear some voices coming up the trail.

You hear some Danish fall from his lips as he pulls your bathing suit back up your body “If we had of stayed in our room nobody would have interrupted us” he groans pulling himself out of the water.

“Yeah but we wouldn’t have seen the waterfall in our room” you tease taking his hand. He helps you out with ease, carefully guiding you away from the slick surface.

“You barely looked at the waterfall. You practically mauled me once we got here” he laughs handing you your clothes. You scoff in response, but you know it’s true. Your mouth clamps shut while a devilish grin spreads across his face.

“It’s the hormones” you mumble pulling your dress up your body. You hear the other group’s voices getting louder as they approach the waterfall.

“I don’t care what it is I like it” he gently lifts your chin and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You hear the sound of a camera shutter and pull away, seeing Fred captured a picture with the waterfall in the background.

“Figured we should get one picture together people like to see vacation pictures” he gently kisses your temple. “I mean the ones I took last night cannot be shared.”

Your eyes go wide and heat reaches your cheeks, but a smile crosses your face. He pulls you into his chest, hiding your embarrassment in his shirt. “Should let me take more pictures, maybe a video…be useful on the road.”

“Frederik” you scold as the group walks by; they are too engaged in their own conversation to hear you.

“Definitely say that in the video” he smirks.

Before you have a chance to respond he gives you a soft smack on the ass and walks away. You stand stunned for a few seconds before catching up to him, his arm wrapping over your shoulder while you begin the short hike back.

“What should I wear tonight?” you ask standing in your bathrobe. You just washed off the sunscreen and sweat from your body and are preparing for your final dinner tonight. You are leaning against the door frame brushing your teeth while Fred grips his shirt.

You watch as the fabric moist with sweat is clinging to his body. He pulls it up revealing his stomach followed by his chest. Your eyes however don’t follow the trail of exposed skin, instead they linger an inch above his hiking shorts that are hanging a little too low, waiting to be dropped.

“(Y/N)” he snaps his fingers and your eyes meet his. He has a smirk on his face but ignores what you are doing. “I said we’re ordering room service and staying in so wear whatever.”

“Okay” you smile.

You hear the sound of his shorts hitting the floor and you stop listening; your eyes following the sound. You stare over his body, your eyes flutter closed as his boxers land on the floor. When you finally open them you see Fred’s ass as he walks towards the shower. You aren’t sure if it’s the steam from the shower or your core being ignited by his naked body, but you feel your hands get clammy and your entire body gets hot.

“Hey babe” you moan wrapping your arms around Fred; your face is pressed into his back breathing in his cologne and body wash, your hand resting low on his stomach. He adjusts to pull you in front of him placing a soft kiss on your head.

“Hey beautiful” he mumbles against your skin. You shake your head slightly rolling your eyes but before you can say anything his lips find yours. You are wearing a pair of sweat shorts and a loose t-shirt; no make-up and after drying your hair you pulled it into a messy bun on top of your head. Fred must have sensed your energy level, because he is wearing a simple grey t-shirt with some loose track pants.

“Dinner’s here” he says leading you out to the back deck. He takes you to the table placing a fleece blanket over your lap. While the temperature during the day gets pretty warm; at night it can get fairly cool. Fred knowing you get cold pretty easily is always one step ahead, doing anything he can to keep you comfortable.

He sets a plate in front of you, pulling off the lid to reveal your favourite meal, one you haven’t had in ages. It can take a bit of time to prepare and with three young children you haven’t had the time.

“How did you manage this? It’s not on the room service menu” you say. Fred’s hand gently rubs your back “I have my ways” he responds.

You fall into easy conversation; you try to bring up the wedding but Fred immediately shuts down your attempts telling you this trip is supposed to help you forget about all that stress. But planning a wedding in a foreign country has proven difficult; especially with the language barrier.

While you speak some Danish, you struggle when people speak too fast for you to process what they are saying. And the planner speaks some English but there are definitely some gaps between the two of you. Charlotte has been helping meeting with the planner on occasion and some of the vendors to help give you a better idea of how things will look.

But she showed up with a list of topics, pictures and videos of place settings and décor ideas the planner has been working on. She hoped the videos would help you visualize how everything will appear on your wedding day; but it also meant an extensive list of items to tackle in a short period of time.

A part of you wishes you took Fred’s offer to postpone the wedding until the following summer; or to do it in North America. But you know everything will fall into place and be worth it in the end.

Fred finishes his dinner first, pulling the white cotton napkin up to his lips. He gently runs the fabric through his fingers, you watch as the fabric dances through his digits. You get lost watching him fold the fabric and drop it on his lap. As his fingers dip out of view you wish it was your folds his fingers would be dipping inside of.

Fred puts his plate back on the tray and stares out at the golf course watching the sun begin to disappear out of view. The wind from earlier has died down, the only sound is the occasional bird and the faint sprinklers running in the distance. You finish your dinner; the sound of your cutlery on the plate catches Fred’s attention.

“You like your dinner” he asks turning his head to yours.

“It was amazing” you respond as he takes your plate setting it on the tray. He grabs two other plates bringing them over, and pulling the lid off to reveal a small white cake and another that has larger chocolate cake, that is more than enough for the two of you.

“I think one cake is enough” you laugh. While you have had some cravings you haven’t been craving many sweets; let alone two cakes. He sets the knife and two plates on the table and sits down. He taps on his leg, indicating for you to join. You sit on his lap pulling the blanket over yourself your legs.

“This one” he runs his finger through the chocolate icing and brings it to your mouth. You open your mouth and he slips his finger in. Your mouth closes around him; your tongue licks up the side cleaning the icing off. A light moan leaves your lips your eyes staying locked on his. He pulls it out with a grin “is just a normal chocolate cake.”

His index finger reaches over to gather some of the icing from the other cake. “And this one” he brings it to your mouth again. Your smile and open your mouth again; bringing your tongue out to lick the icing off. You almost see Fred shudder under you, a groan leaving him when your lips wrap around his finger.

“This one” he repeats through a shaky exhale “is a special cake.” He slowly pulls his finger from you and you quirk and eye brow at him.

“See at that ultrasound a few days ago the doctor determined the gender. I called and got them to send the results to the hotel and this cake can tell us what’s going on in here” his hand rubs over your stomach. Your head falls back with a groan and you laugh lightly. While you have found out during the last two pregnancies a part of you doesn’t want to find out for this one.

“We don’t have to, that’s why I got the second cake. We can not eat the vanilla one, leave it and not find out” he says. “Instead of a crazy party I thought maybe we could go simple, like with Ollie.”

You smile remembering Canada Day almost four years ago, showing up at his apartment with a little white box. You were worried with the humid Toronto air the icing might melt off and you had no idea if he wanted to know the gender, and in all honestly you barely remember the actual eating of the cupcake. You remember the excitement finding out you were going to have a son, and what happened after.

“I thought maybe this one could be a surprise.”

“A surprise” his body shakes with laughter. “You want a surprise? You who plans every detail wants this to be a surprise? You plan our dinners out the week before.”

You laugh slightly and curl up more into his lap, your hand falling onto his chest. “I mean we have three kids, and we know this one will grow out of clothes before it has a chance to wear them all. Apart from picking a name why does it matter to find out? And we can pick two names.”

You stare into his dark brown eyes, glistening under the light of the moon. He brings his lips to yours, his mustache tickling your upper lip, his hand tangling in your hair. His tongue slips inside your mouth, moaning as your tongue does to his what it did his finger. Your tongues swirl in each other’s mouths; your hands gently raking through his beard.

He pulls away; sucking on your lower lip. He grins at you “we don’t have to find out babe.” He leans forward putting the lid back on the one cake “that’s why I got two.”

“Do you want to find out?” you ask with a sigh because if he is committed to the idea you would do it for him.

“Like you said it doesn’t really matter and even if we pick out a name we’ll probably change it. Ollie didn’t have a name for an entire day”

“That’s not what I asked” you respond.

“We both have to be 100% because there is no going back. So if you aren’t 100% sure we won’t.”

He grabs a fork and dives into the cake, not even bothering to cut a piece. He brings it to your mouth your lips closing around it. He slowly pulls the fork out eyes never leaving yours as he grabs another bite, this time for himself.

You continue to sit on his lap while he feeds you cake. Every two or three bites you get he gives one to himself. After eating more than a third of the cake Fred sets the fork down. He wipes away some icing that is clinging to the edge of your lip, sucking it off his thumb.

Without saying anything you pull yourself from his lap and put the plates of cake back on the tray. You begin to make your way inside. Looking over your shoulder with a smirk you see Fred following behind you, setting the tray on the kitchen table. You continue to walk down the hall barely making it a few feet when catches up to you.

He quickly picks you up, eliciting a squeal from you. Your arms wrap around his neck while carried you bridal style up the stairs. Your mouth finds his neck and begins to suck a few centimetres from his ear. You hear a soft groan as you shift slightly get closer and suck harder.

“Baby” he groans but you don’t let up, teeth grazing along his skin. “(Y/N) we have to see my mom tomorrow you really want to do that in such an obvious spot?”

You pull your head away eyes narrowing as you smirk at him. He places you on the bed and pulls his shirt off revealing his toned chest. Your eyes go wide and you take a gulp taking in his body, a sight you have yet to get used to.

The bed dips and Fred’s mouth finds your neck his hand pushing the fabric up your stomach grazing over your bump. His teeth find your ear lobe as your back arches; your head falling onto the pillow.

A light moan leaves your lips; Fred’s mouth only leaves momentarily to pull your shirt over your head. He groans when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra, before long Fred’s mouth is back on you. He mumbles praises in between kissing your breast; you are so caught up in your pleasure you can barely focus on his voice. His hand finds your other one and begins to roll your nipple through his calloused fingers.

“You look so beautiful” he gently places some soft kisses on your stomach. Your back arches and your breathing increases, trying to focus on Fred’s voice. His mouth trails up your body gently sucking on your collarbone “so beautiful with my baby in your belly.”

“Fred” you croak. You feel him smile against your skin but he just presses his mouth in harder to your shoulder sucking a spot against your skin. His entire hand cups your breast beginning to massage it; your neck tilting to allow him more access.

“You’re gonna look so good with my dick in you soon” he mumbles in your ear.

“Fred” you groan finding the strength to push his shoulders “yeah baby” he smirks his head popping up.

“Remember years ago when we found out we were having a boy with Ollie” you ask getting your breath back.

“Mhm” he responds. He lifts higher to look down into your eyes, his brown eyes glazed with arousal staring down at you as his hand running through your hair.

“Remember how after you took me back to your room”

“Mhm” he hums. You pull his face closer, lips hovering an inch from yours. His chain dangles down hitting your chin his warm breath blowing on you.

“Remember when…”

“I pinned you against the door” he smirks bringing his mouth back to your neck

“Yeah…” you trail off. “I was thinking after that.”

“When I fucked your throat” he purrs against your skin.

“Before that” you groan “you tied me up and…blindfolded me.”

You feel his mouth curl up against your neck, his dick twitching against your hip. Mumbled curse words spill from his neck; as he slowly rises from the bed. He walks over to the dresser and begins rummaging through the drawers; you quickly pull your shorts down your legs throwing them into the growing pile of discarded clothes.

Fred walks out of the closet and seeing you naked splayed on the bed for him he quickly shimmies out of his pants. A gasp leaves you as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. In a few long strides Fred is straddling your chest, while he pulls your hands above your head.

Cool leather rubs against your wrists, as he fastens them to the headboard. After he tightens the belt you give your wrists a tug; Fred grins looking at his work.

You feel your mouth water knowing his hard cock is centimetres from your lips oozing with precum. You lick your lips and raise your head attempting to take him in. The last thing you see is Fred’s grin before the silk tie is wrapped around your eyes.

“You good elskede?” he asks.

“Yes” you hiss in response. The anticipation has your heat inflamed and dripping but Fred takes his time. He begins to slowly shift down the bed, leaving warm open mouth kisses on your body. You clench your thighs in search of friction and swear you hear him mumbling against your skin.

The weight around you shifts while he trails down your body, soon your legs are hooked over Fred’s shoulders. He blows on your folds sending a shiver coursing through your body. His tongue gently licks up your folds as you squirm under him.

“You taste so good” he mumbles his beard rubbing on the inside of your legs. One of his hands grip your thighs, nails digging into them as the other attaches to your clit. His thumb presses soft circles into your clit as his tongue flicks into your pussy. Two fingers slip inside you and scissor you open slowly thrusting inside you.

“Fuck” you gasp as his long fingers pump in and out of your folds. You try to reach down to grip his red locks but instead the leather snaps your wrists back down causing you to groan.

“You wanted to be tied up babygirl” he chuckles softly sucking on the inside of your thigh. His fingers increase in speed, his thumb pressing harder into your bundle of nerves.

Your moans turn to whimpers as your orgasm begins to approach. Fred sensing you’re getting close and replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking hard. His fingers hit deep and hard with each thrust while your legs tighten around his head.

You roll your hips, pressing your clit into his mouth. Fred groans into your pussy, his lips vibrating against your core. Fred continues his pace; sucking on your clit. Deep groans and slews of curse words are filling the room. You are thankful Fred got you a private house; any neighbours would for sure file a noise complaint due to the sounds you are making.

Again you try to move your arms and the belt snaps pulling you back down to the mattress. You feel your orgasm rip through you, Fred working you through it. His fingers pump in and out of your walls groaning as your warm cum spills down his fingers. You bite your bottom lip drawing blood, your breath temporarily getting caught in your chest.

His fingers slow as your orgasm tapers off before finally pulling them out of you. His tongue gently finds your folds, lapping up your juices. Finally his mouth pulls away and he sets your legs down crawling up your body.

“You okay?” he mumbles into your neck. You can feel his hard member poking at your entrance and you nod in response.

“Need words elskede” his member gently stroking over your folds coating itself in your juice.

“Yes” you pant out “so good.”

Your hips arch up trying to get some more contact but Fred pulls away slightly with a deep seeded chuckle. “Blindfold okay? Want your hands undone?” he asks.

You smile slightly, even though you can’t see his face you can feel the concern and love radiating from his voice. “I’m good babe, promise.”

That’s all Fred needs to hear. Gentle, but intentional; he slides in, agonizingly slow. He pulls back painfully slow and your legs wrap around his back. Your warm heat welcomes him, pulling further inside. You feel one of his large hands reach the back of your thigh lifting your ass to give him a deeper angle.

“More” you groan after a few slow thrusts. Fred chuckles and snaps his hips increasing his speed. His hands roam up the underside of your thigh and give your ass a firm squeeze. His mouth dips down kissing the space between your breasts. Your back arches in response, his beard tickling your chest.

Fred hits your cervix with every thrust at a feverish pace. His large hand rubs over your stomach before finding your breast, engulfing the whole thing with his hand. He pinches your nipple and you roll your hips up on him.

You try to move your hands once more groaning with the restrictions. You make a fist, nails digging into your palms; likely leaving crescent shaped marks. His hand drags lightly up your skin before finding your neck. His thumb strokes over your skin a few times, lightly gripping you.

“Fre…eddd…ie” you moan punctuated by every one of his thrusts, the headboard rattling against the wall.

You can feel the familiar bubbling deep in your core, your second orgasm of the night developing. You feel him stutter chasing his own release. His hand around your neck begins to tighten; your airway being restricted.

You feel beads of sweat land on your chest as curse words fall from his lips. His hand tightens and he gives you a few more deep thrusts before your orgasm washes over you. Your walls clench around him, legs tightening around his back as your heels dig into his back,

Fred works you through your high as you scream his name. You feel Fred’s dick twitch and he spills deep inside of you with a loud groan. Warm ribbons coats your walls white and Fred collapses on top of you He releases your throat and you take a few gasps, your lungs refilling with oxygen.

His head lands in the crook of your neck and you feel his chest heaving as he catches his breath. You both lie in post orgasmic bliss, Fred murmuring incoherent praises against your shoulder.

After a few minutes you feel Fred tug on the end of his tie, releasing it from your face. You blink a few times your eyes adjusting to the light. Fred reaches above you and undoes the belt, the buckle clanging as he throws it on the wood floor.

“Hey” Fred whispers.

“Hi” you smile.

“That okay?” he asks pulling your hands down; gently rubbing over the red marks on your wrists where some bruises will likely be tomorrow.

You hum in response, Fred’s lips gently press against yours. He slowly pulls out; some of his cum leaking down your thighs as you groan from the emptiness. He crawls off the bed and you roll over grabbing your water from the bedside table.

Fred returns with some clothes setting them on the bed beside you as he brings a damp towel to your folds. You whimper at the contact while he gently wipes you up and throws the towel on the floor. He pulls a clean pair of boxers up his broad thighs and a t-shirt over your shoulders.

A large yawn falls from your lips and Fred helps you under the duvet and you curl up beside him. His hand lands on your stomach his thumb rubbing soft circles as you quickly fall asleep.

The next morning you crawl into back into bed, Fred still asleep. You prop the pillows against the headboard and sit upright looking over to the man beside you. He is lying on his stomach arms stretched under his pillows. Messy red locks have fallen into his eyes and are splayed over the pillow.

You bring the steaming mug up to your lips, lemon and honey filling the air. You take a few sips before setting the cup down bringing over the plate. You take a mouthful of food and the sound of your fork hitting the plate causes Fred to stir.

“Morning” you say softly brushing his hair back.

“Morning” he says through a raspy voice, eyes fluttering open.

“Are you eating cake?” he mumbles and you just laugh in response bringing another bite to your lips.

“You can’t eat cake for breakfast” he scolds.

“Says who; I’m an adult” you retort eating another bite.

He shakes his head and crawls up beside you. You set the fork down and brush a few stray hairs away from his eyes. Fred turns his attention to your stomach, talking to your growing bump as his hand soothes over it. You set the plate on the bedside table and grab your mug. You close your eyes, running your hands through his hair listening to his calming voice.

“Babe, why are both the cakes here?” he asks.

“I was thinking maybe we could find out” you say and Fred crawls up your body slightly.

“Yeah?” he asks. You nod in response and are immediately met by a soft kiss. You reach over and grab the vanilla cake but before you can dig in Fred stops you.

“So this cake is a little different” he explains. “I know you hate the colours that go along with the gender stereotypes. So instead of pink and blue there is banana for a boy or grape for a girl.”

“So the cake is flavoured?” you ask.

“No cake is vanilla but the icing inside is flavoured to match one of the fruits” he says.

“And why banana and grape?” you ask.

“Well banana starts with B like boy and grape starts with”

“G” you cut him off.

Fred grabs the second fork “ready” he raises his eyebrow at you “close your eyes.”

You give him a sideways glance “they told me the flavours are better when faint. That they can become overpowering, so they also recommended dying the icing” he explains. “But let’s see if we can tell from the taste first.”

“Okay” you say closing your eyes “ready.”

Next Chapter

[peachyteabuck]

♡ calm after the storm ♡

summary: post-wedding day bliss, a commission for @bravevesperia01​

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 5,010

trigger warnings: sickening fluff, strap ons, vaginal fingering, light allusions to carolnat, overstimulation

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The wedding was perfect, everything you had imagined. You had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect guests, the perfect catering, the perfect venue, the perfect wife.

But, even as you celebrated and beamed and cried happy tears and held hands and kissed and exchanged vows, the best-day-of-your-life was completely and utterly exhausting – all the dancing and smiling and photos and pure unadulterated happiness left you stumbling to the hotel room Nat and you were going to share for a few days before you left for your honeymoon – scheduled for a rest Mexico where the sun promised to shine and your phones were to be turned off for the longest in either of your careers.

“You okay, babe?” she asks once you’re both in the elevator, watching you closely as you use her for balance while you take off your painful heels.

You groan in pain as your feet – now able to flatten and breathe and finally not stuck in stuffy plastic – hit the cold material of the floor fancy, dark marble flooring. “Define ‘okay,’ would you please?”

Natasha just snorts, holding you close as your eyes droop and your legs threaten to give out. “Oh, darling. We’re almost there, I promise.”

Natasha isn’t lying – you’re only forced to travel about five more floors and a short walk to get to your grand suite before you can collapse into the giant bed, something you had thought about all day with its obnoxiously high thread count sheets and mountain of beautiful, plush pillows.

Each of you had both been in there, in what now sounds like paradise, that morning. You both needed to drop off your luggage and whatever else you’d think you’d need for the Honeymoon (the visits were perfectly timed, though, so that you avoided seeing one another). Despite this, you yourself had no idea how long and treacherous the journey would be.

(In reality, was it fifty feet? Probably. But does that mean you’re not going to complain about it? Absolutely not.)

You nearly scream with relief when you step into the room, allowing yourself to slouch and burp and groan in pain.

Natasha puts the two bottles of champagne she’d taken from the reception on one of the end tables by the door, never letting go of your hand.

When she turns back to you she sees you, struggling uncomfortably in your dress as if you were one of the small children that attended the ceremony – stuffed into fancy clothes for hours as their parents mingled.

Natasha opted to wear a well-tailored suit, something you became incredibly jealous of about ten seconds after you were stuffed into the wedding dress.

“C’mere,” Natasha murmurs into your skin, hands rubbing into your shoulders. “Let me help you out of this thing.”

You don’t deny the help, moving your perfectly done hair to the side so she can access the complicated lace-up back that held your strapless dress to your body.

“You looked so beautiful tonight,” Natasha tells you, assassin hands making quick work of the expensive, intricately woven ribbon. “Like a goddess in a dream.”

If you had more energy you’d blush wildly, stutter through a “thank you” and do your best to compliment her back. Now, though, all you can seem to manage is a small smile and an equally tiny “thanks” as the dress falls to your feet, Natasha helping you step out of it – leaving you in the fancy lingerie that costs spent God knows how from some fancy designer you .

It’s pretty, a deep orange that compliments your skin exceptionally well – a pre-wedding gift from Carol.

“I know she likes,” she says with a wink, handing you the bag as you got your hair done that morning. You know she’s referring the numerous threesomes you and Natasha had had with her and it makes you bark out a laugh.

The hairdresser glares at you for messing up her flow, and you apologize meekly before giggling once more.

“Wow,” Nat mumbles, eyeing you up and down. “That looks fucking amazing on you.”

You smile, weak but genuine as you let out a small yawn. “Thanks, Carol of all people thought you would like it.”

Your wife barks out a loud laugh, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Oh, of course she did.”

Natasha gives you another once-over, another lingering glance, before she grabs your hand - leading you to the table where she had your make up mirror set up, along with your large collection of post-make up necessitates. Next to the several large make up bag’s worth of stuff is the fluffiest robe you’ve ever seen, and as you press your hand to it to pinch the cloth between your fingers, you can feel it had been warmed.

God, you love your wife so much – almost as much as you want to wrap yourself in that robe for the next one thousand years and never, ever take it off.  

“Now,” Natasha tells you, coming behind you to leave a kiss at the base of your neck. “Get comfortable while I run us a nice, hot bath so the both of us can properly destress from the day. Got it?”

You nod as you sit down, taking it all in as Natasha eases herself away.

“I love you so much!” you call out to her. “You’re the best wife ever!”

A beat passes before you hear a response. “I know!”

After pulling the robe on and nearly crying at how good it feels, you work on taking your thick make up off while Natasha does her thing in the bathroom – faint music playing from a Bluetooth speaker she had remembered to pack.

Natasha, your wife. The woman you’ve loved for years, the woman you’ve known was the one since you saw her at that fashion show Tony made her go to because Bruce (the one most susceptible to Tony’s extroverted nonsense) bowed at to deal with some “nuclear-fission” related stuff.

You were a model, another person stepping in for a friend when another friend had more important things to do. Natasha was taken with you when you first stepped out of the runway, insisting that she meet you backstage.

Luckily, Tony allowed to use her connection to him to get there, flashing the Stark Industries part of her invite in front of anyone who tried to step in her way. You were there, undoing the tight ponytail at a well-lit mirror while wearing sweatpants and a crop top and flip flops – a fantastical contrast to the deep maroon ballgown you were stuffed inside for the show.

She was awestruck, as were you, and while you both stared at each other, wordless, the designer you were doing a favor for had the good sense to step in and introduce you.

It was horrible awkward for you and Natasha, exchanging numbers and introducing yourself like dumbstruck preschoolers meeting new friends on the first day of school. Eventually you had to leave, torn from her gaze by another model insisting you get drinks.

Natasha was pulled in the other direction by Tony, who wanted to go clubbing like his life depending on it.

Needless to say, you were texting the entire night, next morning, and the day after…plus the week after that…

The rest, of course, is history.

You smile as you rub the last of your professionally applied eyeliner off, taking out your serums and creams to be used next.

You’re on a moisturizing thing for your under-eyes when Natasha calls for you.

“The bath is ready!” she yells, suddenly appearing in the doorway. You smile at her in your mirror before joining her in the-

“Holy shit, this bathroom is fucking huge!”

Natasha laughs, stripping you before she replies. “Well, we sure are paying enough for it.”

You snort. “Actually, Tony’s paying for it.”

Natasha rolls her eyes as she guides you to the tub, pushing your clothes aside with her foot. “Of course, how could I forget?”

Tony – a man who was likely more excited about the wedding than anything else – had insisted from day one that he should be the one to pay for the honeymoon and anything else one would call “expensive.”

Once you mumbled something about the container store being a possibility of where you would register, and after a rough draft list he bought everything you desired.

(How he got that list, you don’t know, since the only people you sent it to was Natasha and Wanda. In all honesty, you try not to think about it, as you had much more pertinent things to worry about when it came to your wedding.)

Natasha steadies you climb into the bath and you sink into the hot water with a deep moan, already beginning to rub into your sore muscles.

“Baby, don’t do that yet,” Natasha tuts, throwing another handful of bath salts into the large tub. Too tired to disagree, you watch her with hooded eyes while she undresses before pushing you forward to make room for her behind you. “Let me help you.”

Your head falls back to lean against her shoulder as she massages you with nimble, callous fingers.

“You’re really good at this,” you whisper, kissing what little skin you can reach.

She starts at your feet, easily working her way up your ankles, calves, knees, thighs.

Your breath hitches when she moves to your hips – but it calms when she brushes over them and moves to your shoulders.

“Better?” she asks as she works out knots the size of Thor from between your shoulder blades.

You nod, leaning back against her. “Yeah, much better.”

You can feel her smile turn a little wicked as she speaks. “Then this should be amazing.”

Before you can question her, both hands move to your chest, massaging your breasts – sore from the corset of the dress and the beautiful (but uncomfortable) lace lingerie.

It feels so good; a breath of fresh hair after being choked (both literally and metaphorically), stepping into the sun after weeks of rain, touching the skin of another after being kept alone for so long.

“God,” you whisper, leaning into her hands. “Fuck this is the best.”

You can feel Natasha smile into the skin of your shoulder. “Yeah? You like that?”

You giggle as you reply. “Very much so.”

Only then does she stop, moving to grab at the basket of nice-smelling objects you can’t identity until Natasha brings it in front of you, holding it above the water and close to your face. You can see bathe bombs and salts, essential oils, bubble bath.

“Pick one,” Natasha tells you, whispering.

You take one shaky hand from the water and dry it as best you can, grabbing a pale pink sphere that smells vaguely of peaches and a summer breeze.

Natasha nudges you and you drop it into the water, watching silently as it fizzled and dissolved into the hot water.

Behind you, you can hear her grabbing something else – popping what you think is a lid open and squirting its contents into her hands.

You suck in a breath, hoping her hands will go back to your chest, but to your dismay she simply goes back to your shoulders.

“You carry a lot of tense energy here,” she teases playfully. You can’t tell if she’s mocking you or the massage you two had gotten a few weeks back when Wanda noticed how much wedding planning had taken a toll on the both of you.

They were good, the massage therapists that she had hired were well trained and knew what they were doing, but one of them had this stereotypical voice and vocabulary and both you and Natasha had turned her into some sort of inside joke.

“Now,” she told Natasha as her elbow was inches-deep in the woman’s spine. “You carry a lot of stress around your spine, so you need to be mindful of that…”

Natasha nodded along, as did you, despite not a single clue what that meant. You both quoted when the other got stressed again, reminding the other person to relax that furrow in your brow just a little.

Regardless of intent, you giggle and let her work out the knots that have made homes along your shoulder blades and spine, your hands resting on her knees that rest near your sides in the hot water.

“What was the favorite part?” you ask, wanting to hear the voice of your wife instead of the sleep-inducing silence. You wanted to be awake, wanted to experience this with her.

You can somehow feel Natasha smiling softly. “Oh god, you were – obviously, but it was just so nice to see everyone there, everyone I love being there and celebrating with us…”

The feeling of her fingers digging into your muscles lulls you into a semi-unconscious state, listening to her stories from the best day of her and your life.

“I think Thor bringing that ale was only a good idea, because seeing Steve and Bucky drunk was…” she laughs, and if you could live in that melodic sound, you would. “It was fucking hilarious. Who knew Bucky was a giggley drunk and Steve was a horny one – I don’t think I’ve ever seen two men grind on each other so hard for so long in one night in my life!”

You let out a soft laugh with her, hoping she continues.

Luckily, she does.

“Your mom was horrified! But everyone else thought it was hysterical. Even your Dad was a little into it…”

You snort a little, as does she.

“It was also so good to see Pepper let go for a minute, too she’s been so busy with Stark Industries shit, and watching her dance with Morgan after that adorable little thing ‘caught’ that stupid thing at the bouquet throwing.

“And I hope you know everyone was crying with us when we finally said, ‘I do.’ Even your Dad, but Thor especially…I had no idea that man could so sob so loud…”

It all lulled together after that, white noise as you found yourself floating on air and caught in an indefinable cloud of contentless.

Natasha brings you back to reality, eventually, easily turning you around and leaving kisses along your eyes, nose, cheeks, then your lips.

“You good?” she asks, watching as your eyes flitter open.

You nod, voice weak. “Yeah, yeah. I’m…good.”

Natasha gets out first, drying off while keeping an eye on you in the tub. With your blurry vision from just waking up and the bright lights that line the large mirror behind her, she looks angelic, like she just fell straight from Heaven into your Honeymoon Suite.

As you watch her, you expect large, heavy wings to sprout from her back – eclipse the LED lights and burn your eyes, blinding you for all eternity.

But, if the last thing you ever saw your beautiful wife naked…you wouldn’t mind, all that much, never being able to see her again. This image, now, would be enough.

Luckily, though, you aren’t going blind, and you’re able to see as she pulls her hair into a loose bun before grabbing two large towels and previously discarded robe.

Natasha helps you out of the tub, making you stand as she dries off you off – paying special attention to your center and chest and ass.

“Stop teasing me,” you mumble as she works your way to your spine.

She just smirks. “My dear, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You just roll your eyes as she wraps up your hair and pulls you into the robe – silent as she carries you bridal style to the large bed where she leaves you, sitting, before going back to the bathroom.

You stay there, positioned with a towel around your body and wrapped in your hair, listening Natasha drain the tub, turn on the faucet, and do other things you don’t have the brain power to listen to.

She returns with your hairbrush and a glass of water, pulling you into her lap facing away from her.

You sip at the cool water as she undoes the towel in your hair, carefully undoing the tangles and leaving occasional light kisses across your exposed shoulders.

“Do you want your hair up or down, babe?” she asks, pulling a hair tie from the end of the brush.

You blush as you respond. “Could you, uh, do those braids I like?”

Natasha just smiles, grabbing a small, opaque, black matte box you hadn’t noticed before.

“Of course,” she says, opening it with a small click and pulling out a few bobby pins. “Of course, I can, my love. I’d do anything you asked of me.”

You sit there, patient as the youngest girl at a sleepover desperate for the acceptance of her older sister’s friends, as she makes two braids and wraps them around your head, letting small tendrils frame your face.

Natasha grabs a small compact from the spot bed where the box was, holding it in front of you to show off her precise work.

You sigh deeply, happily, tucking a bit behind your ear as you admire it. Your wife has beautiful, precise handiwork in all she does, in all she touches – especially when it comes to your hair.

Each morning you’ve had the privilege to wake up next to each other, Natasha had taken the time to do your hair – even if it meant propping you up in your sleep. It was a silent, artful way that she told you that she loved you, an easier way for her to express her feelings without having to voice them directly.

Seeing her to this now, while you’re awake, without the sleep in your eyes or the impending stress of the day…it all nearly brings you to tears.

You turn to face her, pulling her in for a deep kiss. “I love you so much,” you tell her, a few tears falling down your face – the taste of salt spreading on your tongue.

Natasha smiles, waiting to break away until your lungs scream for air and she gives you a moment to grant them the oxygen they desire.

(Sometimes you forget she’s learned how to hold her breath for a simply ridiculous amount of time – great for some things, bad for others).

Once you’re back to breathing like the normal ole civilian you are, Natasha pushes you back into place in her lap, the only thing separating you being the slightly-damp but still-quite-fluffy towel.

With your hair dealt with, though, Natasha makes the decision to pull it off.

You hiss slightly as your skin becomes exposed to the cool air of the spacious suite, pressing yourself further against Natasha’s steadfastly heated skin.

“Oh, baby,” Natasha coos. “Let me warm you up…”

For a minute you think she means she’ll put you in a sweatshirt, but as her hand trails between your breasts and down your stomach you – you understand what she means.

Her fingers spread your folds easily, other hand teasing at your sensitive inner thighs. You moan unabashedly and press your back more firmly against her chest, digging your heels into the bed for purchase as a single finger enters you.

“You’re so pretty when you’re like shit,” Natasha murmurs in your ear, leaving a kiss on the shell of it. You can feel her smile as you tighten momentarily around her fingers. “So beautiful when you let me have all this power over you.”

You swallow the thick lust in your throat, trying to clear path for a coherent answer.

It never comes.

“You looked so beautiful when you walked down the aisle,” Natasha says, pushing another finger inside of you while the hand at your thigh moves to your breasts, just like in the bath. “I didn’t know what to think – whether I should be the sobbing bride to-be or if I should pick you up and find the nearest bathroom and just take you there.”

She crooks her fingers just so, eliciting a deep, guttural moan from you.

“God, and then the reception,” she says into your throat, leaving bruising kisses there. “You looked so happy, and I was so happy, and-“

You grab onto the wrist of the hand that’s driving into you, keeping her close as her free hand palms harder at your tender breasts, groping at them as she continues.

“Then it hit me,” she tells you, bringing you closer and closer to your release as each second passes. “It’s you, you make me happy, my beautiful wife.”

A third is added, coaxing you to release.

“That’s right,” Natasha moans into your ear. “Come for me, my beautiful wife.”

And, God, you do – reaching your peak with a shout, your legs shaking and hands gripping whatever skin you can reach.

Natasha works you through it, fucking her fingers in and out of you in time with the bucking of your hips. Even as your legs shake and you throw yourself against her, she doesn’t let up until you beg for her to cease her actions.

“Are you sure, love?” Natasha coos into your ear. “Are you sure you don’t want me to your peak over and over and over again? You don’t want me to bring you pleasure until you can’t take it anymore?”

You scream something unintelligible – hoping the expensive wallpaper and rich fellow hotel goers can’t hear you as you babble, mind frying as the coil in your abdomen tightens again.

More less more less stop don’t stop please I want you I want everything Natasha I love you I love you Natasha I’ll do anything you want me to Natasha-

Your brain short-circuits as you come once more, vision going to nothing but bright white for what feels like eternity.

Eventually Natasha lets you go, allows you to slump against her as you pant and attempt to regain a foothold in reality.

“Good?” Natasha asks once your eyes have recovered their focus, glaze receding.

You sigh happily. “Very much so.”

“You tired?” she asks.

You shrug, letting out a light yawn. “A little.”

Natasha just laughs. “You too tired for more?”

You shake your head, beaming. “Never.”

She lays you gently onto the bed, and leaves a kiss to the side of your mouth before retrieving her (and your) favorite strap on, putting it on and adjusting it with ease.

It’s average-sized, glossy, and black, showing off Natasha’s expertise. You sigh happily when she comes into view, climbing on top of you with ease.

You’re pliant under her rough hands, allowing her to push your knees to your chest and bend you in half to give her easier access to your pussy, still soaked and desperate from before.

“So wet for me,” Natasha murmurs as she aligns herself with your center. “Always ready for me, aren’t you?”

Your nod is cut short when you slam your head against the pillow, skin on fire as she fucks in and out of you.

Wait, scratch that.

This isn’t fucking, there’s no way something this beautiful can be qualified as something as crude “fucking.” No, no – this is making love; you wife is making love to you.

The realization hits you like a train, wiping your lungs of their capacity and making your blood ring loudly in your ears. It’s enough to make you feel too far from her – from the woman currently on top of you. In a heartbeat it’s like she’s a million miles away and a few lightyears away, and no – that simply will not do.

You tangle your fingers in Natasha’s hair, messy bun long dissolved into a field of her beautiful red hair as you pull at her roots, making her moan as you wrap your legs around her waist to pull her impossibly closer to you. For a second you hope her skin becomes yours and vice versa, soldering you together like two pieces of a sculpture. Maybe then she’ll feel close enough, like she isn’t back in space and saving the world for the thousandth time.

“God, I’m gonna come,” you moan, “Fuck don’t stop! Please, God, don’t fucking stop!”

Natasha smiles as she watches your blissed-out face, reaching between you to rub at the most sensitive part of you, using your slick to rub sharp, tight circles there.

You come with her skin pressed harshly to yours, her murmuring sweet nothings into your hairline as your fingernails nearly draw blood.

Natasha doesn’t stop fucking the strap in and out of you, chasing her own high. She reaches her peak just as the waves of pleasure are subsiding – allowing you clear vision of her cursing out of her breath and screwing her eyes shut and her jaw tensing then going slack.

Just as she never ceases, you continue to fuck yourself on the toy as she grinds her clit into its base, soon making her twitch as it becomes too much for her.

After a minute she stills for just a moment, coming down from the last of her high as you pull her down for a heated, sloppy kiss.

Her lips taste like you and you moan as it hits your tongue, kissing anywhere you can reach as she pulls out of you – leaving you feeling empty.

You’re about to whine but she shushes you with another kiss, silencing you.

“Just a moment, love,” she whispers. “Wait just a moment.”

She hastily lays down next to you, pulling you on top of her effortlessly.

That’s when you begin to understand – being to instinctively grinding down onto her strap as her hands form a death grip on your hips.

“Fuck yeah,” she moans. “Grind down on me just like that.”

You align her with your center once more as you begin to ride her, one hand on the headboard and the other planted in the sheets next to her head.

One hand moves to your ass, digging her nails into the supple flesh while the other goes to your hip – guiding you forward and back.

She watches you closely, watches as your eyes roll back and head falls to the side; watches as your muscles tenses in your stomach and feels it in your back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” she tells you. “Look so fucking beautiful on top of me, fucking yourself on my cock.”

The hand on your hip moves to brush lightly against your clit, making you nearly scream once more from how oversensitive you are.

“F-fuck, Nat!” You’re almost there, so fucking close, all you need is a little more-

“Stop,” Natasha commands.

Regretfully, caught under the spell that is Natasha fucking Romanoff, you do. You still and you stay there – inert  as you wait for whatever it is she wants you to do that requires you to resist every carnal impulse that’s telling you to keep going don’t stop please don’t stop it feels so good I never want to stop please don’t stop!

Silently, she readjusts, keeping you close to her as she moves, smirking as you gasp when she not-so-subtly “accidentally” bucks her hips.

She pulls you with her as she leans against the lush pillows, folding her hands behind her head as she makes herself comfortable.

You’re confused, almost mad, not understanding what’s going on until Natasha tsks. “Come one, babygirl. Give me a show, won’t you? Don’t you want to give me something good to watch?”

You nod furiously and gulp, suddenly feeling very small and needy as you plant your hands on her sternum, using her for balance once more as you fuck your hips down onto her strap.

You’re still close, so close, and carefully you remove one hand to rub at your clit, desperate to find your high once again as your eyes flit between watching the toy slide in and out of you and watching her intently – determined to commit this moment to memory.

It drives you, nearly makes you choke as your lungs and heart and stomach contract and constrict and your muscles scream for air as they throw you off the proverbial cliff, throwing your head back and clawing at Natasha’s skin once more as you’re lost in an ocean of fire, of electricity that jumps across your skin as you fall to the deep sea below, tumbling and dropping into a vat of the best fucking thing you’ve ever felt into your entire life.

You shake, oh do you shake and bare your teeth and arch your back and think is this what Heaven feels like? Is this what angels all become harpists for? If you fell at the hands of the instrument, could you feel the same way forever?

You scream louder than a banshee as you come, falling on top of Natasha as you do so, panting and sweaty as Natasha leaves kisses wherever she can.

Eventually you roll to the side, allowing her to remove the toy and toss it in the open drawer of the side table to be cleaned and used later as you reach for a $7 bottle of water that had been strategically placed by housekeeping.

You cap it once you’ve downed half of it, placed it back gingerly as Natasha speaks once more.

“Another round, wife?” she asks, smiling ear to ear.

You give her a small laugh before turning over to curl up into her chest, thumbing at your new ring as you speak. You and Natasha had elected not to get engagement rings, and you knew this small act would become a newfound habit of yours.  “Maybe after some rest.”

She smiles, kissing the top of your head as a large menu across the room catches her eye. “And some room service?”

You look up, grinning wickedly. “How about a lot of room service?”

Natasha laughs as she imagines Tony’s face when he gets the bill from the hotel, sighing and rubbing his face and asking one of his robots to make him a drink.

“Oh yeah, a lot of room service.”

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Partners in Crime

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3!

Just a silly little scenario I had rattling around in my head! Huge thanks to @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short for always being amazing betas!

tw: mentions of drinking, hangovers

Juno Steel opened his eye and immediately wanted to strangle the person who had designed this hotel room. Any interior decorator who knew they were putting together a hotel room in Nueva Vegas, the prime place on Neptune where people went to get blackout drunk and collect the finest hangover symptoms in the galaxy, yet still insisted on neon wallpaper deserved death.

He inhaled, feeling an ache in his ribs that came from too much raucous laughter and tasting stale alcohol, taking a mental catalogue of his body as his nerves came back online. His eyelashes felt heavy with mascara that had curdled overnight, his throat felt rough with overuse, his stomach only had a slight roil to it, a sea on a choppy day rather than in the middle of a storm. He was wearing the pyjama bottoms he’d actually packed but he couldn’t speak for the shirt- his top half was still wearing last night’s spangled bralet.

And he had Nureyev’s arm thrown bonelessly over his chest, his sharp chin digging a little painfully into his shoulder, his soft snores in one ear and his dark flyaways ticking his nose. His breath smelled pretty strongly of gin but Juno could put up with that, he wasn’t one to throw stones.

Overall, Juno Steel had suffered far worse mornings. In fact, this one would probably still make it into the top twenty.

Smiling, he gently nudged Nureyev to one side, making sure he fell back against the lavish pillows and settled again before sliding out from under the silky sheets. The hotel room’s crisp air conditioning raised goosebumps across his skin as he padded across the room, stockinged feet sinking considerably into the thick, bright pink carpets. They really had made an ungodly mess of one of the most expensive hotel rooms on Neptune, he was pretty impressed with just how many empty plastic glasses, dregs of champagne clinging to their sides, were scattered around the hot tub, just how much glitter had shed from their clothes onto the floor, the probably very incriminating blueprints and files and notes that were scattered like confetti. Not incriminating for the job they’d just pulled off, of course, just several they were considering in the future.

There was no sign of the rest of their family, no Rita singing almost incomprehensible karaoke into a can of chips, no Jet sitting in a chair by the window with his arms folded and head nodding as he slept like an old dad though a whisper of any threat would snap him up and ready. No Buddy and Vespa slow dancing to music only they seemed able to hear while the neon flashes from the signs outside the window bathed them in candy coloured light.

They must have staggered back to their own rooms, just before the celebrations of a job well done would have wound down into a sleepover. Juno frowned as he scratched tiredly at where his hair was matted down, trying to remember. Buddy’s usual habit of making them all drink as much water before bed as she could had saved him from vomiting and a splitting head but memories were still fuzzy. Very fuzzy actually, now he tried to grab hold of them. No wonder his tongue tasted of about half the bottles behind the bar and his bladder felt fit to burst.

By the time he’d gone into the bathroom, wincing at the colour of lime green it had all been done up in, and dealt with that problem he could hear Nureyev stirring.

Coming back into the room, now dressed a little more appropriately in a soft bathrobe, he saw him stretching like a cat, his own wince playing across his sleepy face.

“Good morning,” he rasped, “Feeling rough too, huh?”

“Fairly,” Nureyev croaked, not making it very far before slumping back against the pillows, “What time did Buddy say we had to be back on board?”

“Not till three. It’s only eleven right now.”

“Ugh...I might not make it.”

Juno snorted, rolling his eye, “God, you’re such a lightweight, you whine so much when you’re hungover. Look, I’ll pack the bags, you focus on getting your shoes on. I think one of them’s in the hot tub.”

Nureyev groaned, bringing his hands up to bury his face in them as Juno pulled the curtains wide and flooded the room with pale sunlight. So little actual sunlight could reach this distant gas giant, what fell across Nureyev’s face was actually simulated from a massive rig of translucent spotlights that covered the city much like Mars’ domes. Rita had told him all about it around their third glasses of champagne, before her speech started collapsing into inhuman giggles and nonesene and his memories got cloudy.

He certainly couldn’t remember quite how they’d gotten the room into such a state. It hadn’t even really been that big of a job, a fairly run of the mill casino heist to fund some bigger projects that Buddy had percolating in her brain. But, from the lingering carnage of their celebration, you’d think they’d stolen a goddamn planet rather than a few measly hundred thousands of creds.

And there was a lot of confetti. All over the damn place, where had that all come from?

“Babe?” Juno frowned as he started pulling their papers together, “Do you remember much about last night?”

Nureyev gave a sleep mumble and Juno heard the sound of the silken sheets running over each other as he turned, “I remember us pulling off a job so seamless it deserves to be in some kind of textbook on thieving. I remember everyone coming into our room. I remember Buddy ordering champagne...and that’s it.”

Juno suppressed a snort of amusement. He was sure if it was his husband’s small frame or his lack of experience with the stuff but about two swallows of anything alcoholic had him absolutely useless. Adorable but useless.

“Just seems like we really tore it up for some reason,” Juno shrugged as he moved further along, now gathering up scraps of their disguises- the velour blazer he’d been wearing over that bralet, the other one of Nureyev’s stiletto heels, a diamond ring he couldn’t remember which one of them had worn.

He paused, something about that ring making him stop. It was lying in the midst of some other jewels he’d been wearing yesterday in his role as a ridiculously wealthy outer rim socialite. So it must have been his, he didn’t exactly need his years of experience as a detective to realise that. So why didn’t he remember it? Why did it look so brand new, so out of place with everything else lying in that modest dragon’s horde of luxury?

“My love?”

Juno turned, taking the ring with him, “Yeah?”

Nureyev was still lying in bed, though he was holding his left hand a little ways from his face, frowning curiously up at it as he turned it this way and that. As he watched the fake morning sun catch in the gem on a ring that sat there, a ring identical to the one Juno held.

“Did...did we get married?” Nureyev said slowly, an expression on his face not dissimilar to the one he wore when he was doing one of the many puzzle boxes Juno got him as gifts, after he’d realised a year ago that he loved them.

“Yes, about a year and a half ago. You were there, remember?”

Nureyev shot him a look across the room, “I mean last night, my love.”

Juno sucked in a long, slow breath before answering, throwing the ring up in the air and catching it, “Yeah, that would really explain a lot, huh?”

They caught each other’s eye then and after that there was nothing they could do but laugh, hard and helpless until Juno was having to brace himself on his knees to stay upright and Nureyev was curled on one side and trembling.

Once he could see and breathe clearly again, Juno found it, lying amongst a sheaf of floor plans for the casino they’d robbed yesterday. A wedding certificate, one corner of it crinkled and soaked where some spilled champagne had caught it, a little rumbled from being shoved into the pocket of a velour blazer on the car ride back to the hotel but fairly unmistakeable. The signatures were certainly theirs, even if the names weren’t.

“Yep,” Juno’s face still ached from grinning as he climbed back into bed next to his husband-twice-over, “Apparently once Rigel Fortescue and Jack Antares were done being complete strangers while the Orion’s Palace Casino had half it’s funds drained, they went off and got married.”

“Congratulations to us, I suppose,” Nureyev wiped his streaming eyes, giggles still pressing up against his words, “Oh god help us, is there any way we can keep this from the rest of the crew?”

“Well, looks like they all signed as our witnesses so I don’t think that’s an option, babe,” Juno snorted, showing him the band of signatures clustered along the bottom of the certificate, each one a ridiculous pseudonym but the handwriting was all familiar, even with how drunk their friends had clearly been.

Nureyev gave a groan of dismay that he didn’t really seem to feel, cuddling up against Juno, “Does this make us a little trashy?”

“Yeah well, you knew who I was when you married me,” Juno nudged him teasingly, “Both times.”

“Hush!” Nureyev kissed his shoulder, moving slightly so he could hitch one leg over Juno’s hip. He was still wearing his suit trousers from last night, Juno noticed, if last night really had been their wedding night then they’d neglected a pretty significant part of it.

So he turned to meet Nureyev’s body with his own, wrapping an arm around his slim waist to close what little gap there still was between them, “Maybe this could be our thing? We wear a new name pretty much every week anyhow, why don’t we get married as many times as we feel like? I know personally I’d be willing to go...well, at least another three times. Maybe four, for the money.”

He felt a light nip through the shoulder of the robe as Nureyev admonished him with his teeth. Though his hands were saying something different as they slid down Juno’s back, squeezing lightly.

“I suppose it could be quite a fun tradition…” he murmured softly, “But I would like to remember the next one. Perhaps a beach wedding on Saturn…”

Juno grinned and kissed the top of his head, “Whatever you want, babe. I’ll make sure the next one is perfect.”

“Our first one already was. But there were parts of my moodboards I didn’t get to use…”

Juno nudged him lightly until he was on his back, starting to kiss his way down his neck, tasting his perfume on his lips, “And?”

“And I love you,” Nureyev amended, smiling as innocently as someone very obviously moving his wife’s legs apart with his own could, “And marrying you a thousand times wouldn’t be enough to show you how much.”

“I love you too,” Juno murmured against his collarbone, “Happy honeymoon, baby.”

And, as much of a surprise as it had been, as much as their heads still ached and they could still taste cocktails on each other’s tongues, as much as they had a ship to catch in a few hours, it was. It really, really was.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Winter prompt fill 67 for sternclay? Doesn’t have to be a wedding I just love the 2nd half of this prompt. nsfw would be great

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW

67. you were supposed to have a beautiful winter wedding but you were ditched during the vows and my idiot sibling/best friend just cracked a joke about how maybe I’d finally tell you how I feel about you and you h e a r d

“She’s not coming.” Joseph whispers over his shoulder. 

“Joe, for all we know she got hung up in a dress emergency or something?” Lily, the best woman and Joseph’s sister, squeezes his shoulder.

When the groom turns his blue eyes on Barclay, the groomsman does his best impression of someone who thinks things will be fine.

“It’s only been five minutes.”

“Her entire wedding party is here without her. And they look as confused as we do.”

Barclay spots a member of the event staff slip in a side door and hand a piece of paper to Indrid, their friend who’s acting as an usher. 

“I, ah, have some bad news.” The pale-haired man joins them at the front of the church, “it seems the bride has had a serious change of mind and will not be joining us.”

Joseph grabs the paper, reading it over as the bridal party crowds around him. The upshot of all the commotion, and the arguing that follows the commotion, is that the bride has indeed called off the wedding and is en route to an airport. 

As the family confirms she’s alright, Joseph picks up the microphone.

“Obviously this is a, um, unexpected turn of events. It’s safe to say no one is getting married today, but everything is still in order for the reception and we’re all dressed up so, um, if people want to stay and take advantage of that, you’re welcome to. You’re also welcome to leave if you want.”

Several groups break off towards the reception hall, and Barclay pulls Joseph aside. 

“Joe,  are you sure? I mean, yeah, we’re all here, but I don’t think anyone is gonna hold it against you if you want to send everyone home.”

“It’s important to be flexible.” Joseph replies blithely. Barclay knows his best friend hates when plans change and is unlikely to suddenly lose that piece of his personality at the same moment he lost his fiancee. 

“Besides, I’d hate for that menu you helped us pick out to go to waste.” There it is, the Joseph Stern Professional smile ™, a sign that Barclay’s hunch is right.

“Screw the menu, man, I’m worried about you.” Barclay sets a hand on either of his shoulders. Joseph’s gaze snaps all the way onto him, and he knows he is losing this argument. 

“It’s still my wedding, Barclay. That means I get to run it in whatever way I think best.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” He steps back, brushes lint from his arm, “you go on ahead. I join you in a sec.”

Joseph nods, turning to stride though the room in his dark suit, while Barclay watches the love of his life walk away.

-------------------------------------

“Uh, hi, I’m Barclay. You must be Joseph?” Barclay stands in the door of the dorm room, his backpack in his arms. 

“Yes. Um, nice to meet you.” The other guy stands, black hair and well-fitting X-Files shirt making him look like Agent Mulder on his day off.

“I didn’t choose a side yet, it seemed fair to wait until we were both here. I’m partial to the left but that’s more habit than anything else.”

“I’m cool with that. I, uh, I don’t have a ton of stuff to unpack so, uh if you need help let me know.”

“Thank you.” Joseph smiles, taking his face from cute to heart-stoppingly handsome, and Barclay decides he hit the roommate jackpot.

Barclay didn’t fall for Joe so much as cliffdive, throwing himself after the feeling he got whenever Joe laughed at a joke or told him a secret or talked for fifteen minutes about the methodology flaws in Ghost Hunters. Yes, Joe was hotter than convection oven and Barclay wanted to fuck him on the floor of every space they ever lived in, but more than that Barclay was so happy with him, and his friend felt the same way. 

The problem was, Barclay had a shy streak and was far from the only person to see Joe as a catch. And so they dated other people, sometimes happily and sometimes not, but never each other. By the time Joe met Iris, Barclay’s unrequited love had been thrumming in him so long it was no more than background noise. So when Joe ran proposal ideas by him, announced the weddings, asked Barclay to stand up with him, Barclay felt genuine happiness for him and the woman he loved. There’s no rule that says one cannot feel joy and knife-in-the-gut sorrow at the same time.

He’s only gotten better with age he thinks as Joe works the room, fielding condolences with ease. Barclay helped him choose the suit, black with blue lines in the stitching, because it flattered  but did not flaunt the well-maintained figure beneath. The last time Barclay saw him in just his underwear was when they lived together after college, and he fumbled his phone when he saw him at the beach last summer. He can picture it so clearly, what that body looks like under those clothes, and it makes him want to scream

“This whole day has been full of surprises.” Indrid sits down next to him, glass of soda in hand. 

“Kinda figured you and Duck would head home.”

“Most of  our friends are here, and the food looks good. Not to mention we’re both worried about-” Indrid nods towards Joseph.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I admire his holding it together but, like, what if Duck had left you at the altar?”

“I’d have turned into a hideous red-eyed monster and flapped screeching into the night.”

“......”

“That was a joke.” Indrid grins. 

“Right. Man, hard to tell with you sometimes.”

“While this is an upsetting situation, there is a bright side; maybe now you will finally tell Joseph how you feel.”

A crash makes them both turn in their seats; Joseph is wiping his dropped (plastic) cup up with a nearby napkin, well within earshot. 

“Indrid I swear if he heard-”

“Oh, I am certain he did.”

“Dude” Barclay hisses as Joseph steals an unreadable glance at him. 

“For goodness sake, you two are a good pair. A pair you’ve been dreaming about for years. Tell him.” With that the other man stands, leaving Barclay alone with his thoughts. His thoughts are no help, so he joins Indrid, Duck, Aubrey, and Dani for some cake.

As the venue finally empties, he realizes he hasn’t seen Joe in an hour and panics until he finds him standing (swaying, really) in the staging room. 

“You, hic, know, hic, this explains, hic, why she didn’t want to move until hic, after the wedding.”

“Seems like it’s for the best, going home to a place where all her stuff is would fucking suck.” Barclay puts an arm around him only for the shorter man to slump most of his weight into his chest.

“The hotel’s paid for, and I have a week hic of vacation and a packed car.”

“You’re not driving anywhere. I can and will lock you in a closet if you try.”

“Or you could, hic, come with me.”

“On your honeymoon?” Thank god Joe is too drunk to notice his voice creeping up.

“On my it’s this or be miserable t home trip. Please, Barclay? We can hic, swing by your place to get your stuff.”

Barclay says yes. Purely to help a friend in need and not because of how said friend feels pressed up against him.

They’re an hour out of the city when Joseph fumbles with his phone, “Change of plans, were going here instead of the hotel?”

“I thought the whole point was the hotel was paid for?”

“It is, by her family, so fuck it. I’ve always wanted to go here and it’s the kind of place she’d never let us stay.”

They take the next exit and find the highway North rather than East. By the time they reach the massive pink building with an airplane in the field out front, snow is falling and Joe is half-asleep, mumbling “okay” when Barclay says he’ll go get them a room. The clerk welcomes him, shows him a list of available rooms, and he notices a high number of them have heart-shaped bed, “tubs for two,” and the word “fantasy” in the name. 

Just as he’s wondering what the fuck Joe’s gotten them into, he spots the perfect room at the bottom of the list. 

“Got a surprise for you.” He helps Joe from the car and unlocks the door. His friend takes in the silver and green decor, the posters, and the UFO-shaped bed. 

“This is the exact one I was hoping for.”

“I know, you giant nerd.”

“Be nice, big guy, or you’re sleeping on the couch.” Joe stumbles to the bed and starts stripping, at which point Barclay zips back outside to get their bags. By the time he’s back, Joe is under the covers and out cold. The king bed does look comfy…

Barclay sleeps on the couch. 

-------------------------------------------------

Joe remains dead to the world until almost noon the next day, so Barclay works on his cookbook edits and sends yet another thank-you email to Mama for letting him take his vacation with such little notice. He grabs breakfast, including a sandwich for when Joe wakes up and some aspirin to go with his coffee. 

“I hate myself.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Joe rolls over, dragging the pillow atop his head, “I didn’t mean to get so drunk, it’s just the only way I could get through all those conversations yesterday was to take a drink every time I felt like crumbling.”

Barclay sits on the bed, petting his head, “It’s okay, man, getting me to drive you to a weird sex hotel is not the worst thing you’ve done drunk.”

“I threw up in a mixer one time.”

“And I’ll never forgive you for it.” He laughs when Joe whacks him with a pillow. In the silence that follows, he remembers Indrid’s comment, and wonders if Joe does too. 

“...Is this really a sex hotel? I just thought it was kitsch aimed at couples”

“Go look at the tub.”

Joe groans, stepping out of bed in just his--god help him--silk boxer briefs. They must have been under the suit. 

“Are these...they are, there are handcuffs hanging by the tub. Well, weird as that is, I’m taking a bath.”

The day goes in an oddly non-awkward direction after that. They’ve lived together often enough that getting dressed and clean in close quarters is nothing new. Joe votes for hiding from the world  bit longer, so they settle in on the very squishy bed and watch a silver plated T.V, Joe laughing whenever Barclay yells at cooking shows they way other people yell at football games. 

He still sleeps on the couch that night. 

The next day Joe is up bright and early, suggesting they drive to a nearby tourist trap, using his phone to pick out a breakfast place that serves Barclays favorite local coffee blend. They follow that same process the next two days; find some strange roadside attraction or nearby bookstore, eat, and return back to the motel to lay side by side on the bed and to read or watch T.V.

It’s as they’re wandering around a strange, knock-off Carhenge that Joe sighs, “I sort of saw it coming, you know? Iris leaving. I proposed because I cared about her, but she was the one who brought it up, and every time we were visiting her family or she got off the phone with them, she’d bring it up more forcefully. I think she was under more pressure to settle down than I grasped. If our places were switched, I might have run too. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to marry me.”

Barclay crunches to a stop in the snow “Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m exactly the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to your family but not spend your life with. My job has weird hours and travel, my non-work clothes have cryptids on them, I can be too particular, and I’m not that exciting for someone whose job is special agent-”

“No, fuck that, you’re a catch.”

“You’re just used to me, big guy. Your objectivity is in question.”

“Yeah, well, you’re even more used to you, so I’m really the more objective one here.” 

“Maybe you’re right.” Joe stares at his footprints, then elbows the cook, “come on, lets go get lunch.”

Barclay is still full and happy, having warmed up via a soak in the tub (where he thought of four different ways to use the cuffs and then had to calm down his cock enough to get out), when he comes into the main room and finds Joe staring at his phone. 

“Oh shit, did she get in touch?”

“Yes. Iris, um, is on a cruise ship. As a yoga instructor. She says it’s something she’s dreamed of for years, that she’s sorry for hurting me, but that marrying me would have been a step in a life she did not want to lead. So. That’s that.” He puts the phone face down, cards his fingers through his hair, “Lord almighty I wish she’d just said no when I asked.”

“Me too.” Barclay imagines a different past, where Joe asked him instead, where he said yes because it’s what he’s been dreaming of since he was twenty-two. Where Joe is sitting in front of him, not sad-eyed and tired, but happy as can be. 

---------------------------------------------

This hangover is somehow worse than the one the morning after his non-wedding. Then again, he drank more in a shorter period, hoping to drown out the memory of the words on the screen. 

Or the words he overheard at the reception.

“Tell him how you really feel”

He’s had his suspicions about Barclay from time to time, most frequently when they were younger and he felt those deep brown eyes on his ass every time he turned around. But Barclay never took a chance; there were times after break-ups when Joe is certain anyone who was interested would have taken advantage of him being vulnerable and available, but instead Barclay cheered him up, the same way Joe did when Barclay’s relationships ended. Stern concluded neither of them wanted more. 

He would have taken more in an instant. His love for Barclay walked the line between romantic and platonic, and he would have crossed it the moment Barclay asked him to.

Now, he’s bathing with his eyes shut because any light is murder on his skull, his best friend waking up on the couch where he’s insisted on staying because clearly Joe’s lost his appeal. Who’d want to sleep with someone who got roaring drunk and needed babysitting?

He pops aspirin, drinks water, and lays down with his sleep mask over his eyes. Barclay moves around the room, talking softly in that gentle baritone that, not for the first time, makes Stern wonder what he sounds like when he cums. 

“You want me to run and grab breakfast?”

“No, I can get it for both of us. Lord knows you’ve done enough for me this week.”

“You gonna go downstairs blindfolded?”

“For you, I’ll risk a headache OW, owow.” His back locks up just as he tries to sit upright.

The bed sags, “Holy shit man, you’ve got a huge knot right here.”

“My back always does that when I’m stressed, it’ll be fine.”

“Nuhuh, lay down and let me see if I can get it out.” Barclay nudges him onto his stomach and he flops willingly, mask still on. 

“You don’t need to Ohhhhhhhhhnnn, I forget about those bakers hands.”

“Gonna knead you like dough, babe.”

Stern blushes at the name; he was always a little jealous when his friend called his boyfriends that. 

When thumbs pass below his shoulder-blades he moans, arches at the second of pain, “That’s it, that’s the epicenter.”

He can’t stop sighing as Barclay runs his hands over him, can’t stop wiggling his hips at every burst of relief. He pushes his ass up without meaning too, and a bitten-back whine reaches him. 

Fuck it. Even if he’s about to make a huge mistake, he wont have to look Barclay in the eyes.

“What did Indrid mean? At the reception.”

“Uh.” Barclay’s hands still, “uh. That I was worried about you.”

“Try again.” He grinds his ass back deliberately. 

“Joe, please, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread here. You’re underneath me shirtless and I am not gonna do this a dumb way.”

“Do what?”

“Tell you that, that I, no nope, I’m gonna do this back home, at the Lodge or something, make you dinner first and be all romantic so that you don’t think I’m talking with my dick when I say I love you.”

Barclay’s whole body tenses. Joe flips onto his back, regrets the sudden movement, and lifts his sleep mask. He takes one of his frozen hands from the air.

“I love you too.”

“Really?” Barclay sounds like a teenager whose crush just said yes to prom.

“Really. And I don’t think it’s just your dick talking. Although if you wanted to bring it into the equation I wouldn’t mind.” He sends a pointed stare at the half-hard shape under worn denim.

Barclay’s breathing is picking up, his posture trapped between movements. 

“Do you, um, do you want to kiss?”

His friend drops down in reply, smashing their lips together and parting his own imploringly until Stern slips his tongue between them. His big hands cup Stern’s face and his hips grind like he thinks his parents will be home any minute. 

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, Joe, ohgod, babe, please, please let me be good to you” the kisses on his face and neck are messy and the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt. 

“Barclay, you’ve always been good to me.”

“I meant this” he drags their dicks together, “kind of good.”

“Ohlord, yes okay, good point. Get your clothes off and bring me the purple bag that’s in my suitcase.”

Barclay grabs the bag, upends it and sends several sex toys, his strap-on underwear, and lots of condoms onto the bed, undresses as Stern sets one of the toys into the harness. 

“I need to put this back on.” He lowers the mask and hears a soft whine.

“I like seeing your eyes.”

“You’ll see them plenty, big guy, I promise. Now, open yourself up, please.”

“Oh hell yes.” A rip of foil, a pop of lube, and then Barclay straddles him, grunting delightfully. 

“Tell me when you get to three, that should be enough for this toy.”

Pre-cum drips just above the waistband of the underwear, and he gets a thrill remembering the few times he’d caught an accidental glimpse of Barclay’s dick. It’s big, that much he knows, and he’s going to have a lot of fun with it once he’s done reducing the man above him to tears. 

“T-three, babe.”

“Get my dick wet and then get to it.”

When he gets the gasp that tells him the toy is in, he smile and reaches to the underside of the base, “Remember that new dick I was excited about?”

“The vibrating one? OHFUCK, fuckyeahbabe” Barclay jerks and moans, his movements erratic even as he sinks all the way down. Stern echoes him, the pressure of the other man’s body makes the vibrations hit all the right spots. 

“Here’s how this is going to work, big guy; I’m going to get off while I fuck you, and if you can hold off on coming until I’m done, I’ll let you fuck me.”

“God yeah, Joe, fuck me, please.” 

He thrusts up and there’s a thud of Barclay’s hands hitting the headboard. The movement is rough on his stomach but he doesn’t care, grabs hold of thick thighs and fucks him, the other man working his hips in an attempt at rhythm.

The mask catches on a pillow, letting him see Barclay from the neck down. Lord, he looks good like this, big (Stern’s always loved how big he is), letting out the most appealing grunts and growls, dark hair covering most of his softly muscled body…

Wait a minute. 

He claps a hand over his mouth, laughing. 

“Whats, aAAhnnn, what’s so funny babe?”

“Remember when you found that Sasquatch dildo and bigfoot romance novel in my stuff?”

“Hard to forget.”

“I just discovered the source of the fantasy.”

“Are, are you saying I look like bigfoot when I fuck?” Barclay is shaking with laughter. 

“Kind of?”

“I’m putting that on a sign in my den.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late AHHhhnnnfuck, fuck, baby, pleasepleaseplease say you’re close.”

“Why? In a hurry to fuck me?”

“After ten fucking years? Yes.”

He focuses on rubbing off on the toy, holding Barclay in place to keep it at the right angle, orgasm building sudden and swift when he works his hips just right and Barclay starts whimpering.

“Shit” he bites out as it ripples through him, aftershocks jerking his hips and making them both groan. 

Barclay climbs off and he wiggles the underwear off and kicks them off the bed. 

“Okay, big guy, now you can fuck meSHIT, lordalmighty you  feel good.”

“Fucking knew it would, knew you were fucking made for me Joe, fuck you’re incredible.” The hand that’s not balancing him on the mattress is shoving Sterns left out and up so he can drive deeper, shaking the walls on each thrust. Stern wonders if there’s a way recreate ten years of pent up desire so that Barclay will fuck him with this same furious affection every night of his life.

He’s limp post-orgasm, happy to let Barclay manhandle him to his hearts content. When the other man sits up, dragging his hips into his lap, he moans louder than he had in years. 

“That’s it babe, lemme hear how good it is, fuck, no one’s ever looked this good taking my dick, c’mon, take it all the way, take me all the way while I cum in you.”

“Ohlord.” his toes curl weakly as bucks into him faster and faster.

“Fucking years, years I’ve wanted cum in whatever hole you’d give me, now I’m gonna and you’re gonna feel it for weeks, fuck, babe, that’s it, ohhhnn Joe, Joe” there’s a final growl as Barclay holds his legs open, the last jolts of his orgasm making his fingers dig into his skin. 

As he’s coming down and pulling out, Stern slips off the mask, blinking at the sight before him. Barclay, flushed and slick with sweat, staring at him like he’s a prize he’d never thought he’d see.

“Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” He winces at how childish it sounds. A week ago he had a fiancee, for gods sake. 

“Yeah, hell yes, wait, Joe, you just got out of an engagement. You, you sure you don’t want some time alone or to, like, explore other options?”

Stern crawls over to him, beard scratching his palm when he turns his cheek, “Barclay, I’ve always been one step away from falling in love with you, and it turns out this was the step. I trust you, I get along better with you than anyone else, and apparently we work well in bed. If, um, if you don’t want this, if it’s too late, I understand. But if you want to be together, I want that too.”

Barclay blinks. Then he blinks again. And then he’s crying and Stern pulls him into the hug.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Joe, don’t apologize. I’m so fucking happy, I’ve wanted to hear this for so long it’s just” a shaky breath, “just didn’t expect it to hit so hard. I love you, Joseph, and nothing would make me happier than being your boyfriend.”

They stay like that for awhile, talking in confessions and professions of feelings. Then Joe kisses him, and pulls him towards the bathroom to clean up (and maybe use those cuffs) before heading out to lunch.

----------------------------------------

Indrid opens the message on his phone, smiles, and texts four words in reply. 

I told you so

[shotsbyshae]

Devil’s Playground

Warnings: Language, Murder, Bloody, Smutty (18+)

Words: 2.1k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Song: Devil’s Playground by The Rigs

A/N: Monster of the Week. The second part of Kill of The Night.

 You can tread where demons play.

3 Months Earlier

Silver. Iron. Salt. Holy water.

You had prepped Steve on the more basic monsters: ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves, and demons. Ever the perfect student, writing in his notebook, as he asked follow up questions. This wouldn’t last long once you had America’s golden boy in the field though. Captain America wasn’t a killer and to be a hunter usually meant kill or be killed. This guy wouldn’t stand a chance and you could still hear the sound of Dean’s laughter on the phone at the idea of it. He was nothing like you, it takes a special breed to be a hunter and Steve Rogers wasn’t cut out for it.

“Here’s the address,” you handed him a slip of paper. “Meet me there around nine tonight. Don’t wear the suit.” You punctuated the last sentence, pointing your index finger at him.

“I’ll be there.”

And he was.

Early in fact, dressed in boots, jeans, and a long-sleeve blue Henley, which clung to every serum enhanced muscle a man shouldn’t even possess.

It was ridiculous.

You wish he’d worn the fucking suit instead.

“Ready?” he questioned you, which snapped your thoughts back to the task at hand.

“Yea,” you passed him a machete. “Remember, off with the head. That’s the only way.”

“Got it.”

The two of you had made your way into the rundown facility slowly, home to a small nest of vamps, four to six. Enough to be a challenge for you, but not enough to get Captain America killed.

What happened next you weren’t prepared for.

You had moved quickly, blade slicing easily through the first vamp who lunged for you, all while keeping an eye on Rogers. Two women rushed toward him while guttural snarls ripped from their chests as they revealed their fangs. Without hesitation Steve moved with more finesse than a hunter with twice your experience.

You hesitated.

He twirled the machete in his hand as two separate heads bounced off the concrete around him, bodies dropping where they stood. Another vamp was making its way towards him and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as Steve went toe to toe with that one. Why was he fighting it instead of killing it right off and you realized he wasn’t fighting, he was playing with it.

Like a cat with a mouse.

You stood there slack-jawed even as one lunged for you. A quick back handed swing and you had decapitated your attacker without even looking – perks of vamp hearing. Steve kicked the next guy, knocking him back, and you had saw the expression on his face.

He was enjoying it.

Captain America wasn’t a killer.

But is wasn’t Captain America, it was Steve Rogers.

His jaw clenched as he swung the machete with his right hand like a baseball bat. An almost primal sound escaped his lips, and you knew it was him, because there were no more vampires in the building.

Blood was splattered across his face, staining his shirt in small splotches of dark red. The muscles in his arm rippled underneath the material as he gripped the machete tighter in his hand. A slight rise and fall of his shoulders as his breaths came slow and shallow. He scanned the room slowly for anymore vamps, before his gaze landed on you.

The look in his eyes was cold – dark.

You had underestimated him.

For a moment you wondered if he’d kill you too.

“What?” he questioned you as you stared at him in bewilderment.

You shook your head, “Nothing.”

“You know,” he began as he pointed the machete at you, barely able to contain the morbid excitement in his voice. “I read a newspaper article earlier. I think there might be a werewolf two towns over.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him, “Easy tiger. One hunt at a time.”

Now

The ping of your phone alerts you to a text message and pick it up from your desk to read it.

Steve: Road trip? I have us a case.

You let out a sigh and quickly type in your response.

I can’t. I’m busy.

There’s an immediate knock on your door and you glance over in annoyance before standing up and moving over to open it.

“No, you’re not,” Steve states as soon as you pull open the door, brushing his way past you into your room.

“Really?”

“Tony’s out of the country. Everything’s quiet,” he says, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Let’s get out of here.”

He acts as if he didn’t have his tongue down your throat almost a month ago. Neither of you have brought it up, spent more time doing damage control on Tony finding out you’re a vampire. It was purely an adrenaline rush – blood rush. That’s why you stick to blood bags, less emotion that way.

“I don’t know Steve.”

“Please,” he says it softly.

It’s not like he can go to anyone else, no one else knows what you and he do in the shadows. A secret only the two of you share and you sigh because Steve Rogers is going to be the death of you.

“Fine.”

***

“No,” you stomp your foot like a hormonal teenager. “I’m done. I need a drink. A bed. A real shower. Preferably not in that order.” Steve stares at you, there’s blood splattered across your cheek and a chunk of something bloody and gooey in your hair. He reaches to pull it out gently, tossing it to the side before you can see it. “It’s been three days. First the ghost, then a wraith, now a ghoul. I need a break.”

The two of you have been going non-stop since you left the compound. He’d been going non-stop. You were only along for the ride. There’s a freedom in hunting, unlike anything he’s found before. The stress of being the strait-laced leader. The one everyone looks to for guidance. It can take a toll on even the strongest of men.

“Okay, I saw a hotel on the way in,” he comments.

“It better have a bar.”

It does, as well as large suites with king size beds and giant jacuzzi tubs, much nicer than the rundown fleabag motels you’re used to staying in. Being an Avenger has its advantages. Unfortunately, being a vampire has its disadvantages. You’re hungry. You hadn’t planned on being gone so long and now your out of blood bags. Having used your last one to heal the damage when the wraith had slammed it’s spike into your chest.

After a long, scorching hot shower, you get dressed and head down to the bar. Intent on drinking idly while searching for someone you can use. You don’t like it, but you won’t take much, and they won’t remember a thing.

 Steve stops as he enters the room, seeing you at the bar. The black dress you’re wearing is Romanoff’s, he recognizes it, wondering if you found it on the quinjet. Your legs on full display, shimmering in the blue glow of the bar lighting. Hair falls down around your face and your eyeshadow is dark, a contrast to the almost red tint to your lips.

It’s obvious you’re hunting a different prey.

Beautiful, breathtakingly so, is how anyone else would describe you, but they don’t know you like he does. Those manicured fingers can rip out hearts, he’s witnessed it.

He loved it.

You’re fucking dangerous, gorgeously so.

“Any luck?” he questions, moving to sit beside you at the bar.

“No,” your tone sounds irritated, “and I won’t as long as you’re sitting there.”

“So,” he remarks with that cocky grin you’ve grown to despise.

“Really? That’s low. I’m hungry,” you shake your head at him. “I would never stand between you and a cheeseburger.”

“Who said I’m standing in the way?” he leans back, raising an eyebrow as his hands subtly turn inward towards himself.

“Not a good idea,” you say, picking up your glass.

“You’ve done it before.”

Now he wants to talk about it, you think to yourself as you take a sip of your Crown and Coke.

“That was different,” you finally say.

“How so?”

“It was an emergency.”

“Bull shit.”

“What?” you cut your eyes over to him incredulously at his tone, the smug smile playing at his lips angering you.

“I think you liked it,” he says smoothly, “and I think that scares you.”

Steve watches your jaw clench, his words striking a nerve, causing a rage to boil just under the surface of your façade.

Madness contained.

You stand calmly and turn sharply on your heel, walking away from the bar without so much as a word to him.

He catches up to you on the elevator, sliding inside before the doors close and you roll your eyes as he leans against the opposite wall from you, arms folded across his chest.

“I didn’t – that came out wrong,” he stumbles over the words. “I’m sorry.”

You stare straight ahead, refusing to look at him, urging the elevator to move faster. Desperately needing to be away from him.

  “I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t ask me?” his words are soft.

You glance up at him as the doors open. How he can be so rough and cocky, yet soft and innocent at the same time still astounds and agitates you. He follows you off the elevator, walking past the door you stop at to his.

“I won’t ever ask,” you state as you open the door, glancing over at him. He’s swiping his keycard into the lock as he looks back you. “I don’t like who I am when I feed.” You begin to walk into your room, his next words stopping you for a moment.

“You should, because everything about you is amazing.”

There’s a moment of silence before you close the door to your room, leaving Steve to enter his alone. He tosses the keycard on the small table by the door before moving to sit in the desk chair beside the bed. Grabbing the remote from the desk he presses the power button, bringing the flat screen across the room to life and discards the controller haphazardly on top of the duvet cover next to him. He pulls the boots from his feet, staring blankly at the TV screen as a black and white film plays quietly.

The turn of the lock on the door which separates your room from his draws his attention away from the TV and he leans back in the chair. The door jerks open revealing you, still in the black dress, but your feet are bare, and you stride purposefully towards him. Steve locks his eyes with yours as you lower yourself onto his lap, a little roll of your hips making him shift under your weight. His hands are still at his sides, still unsure of what’s happening, and he feels you grab his right wrist in your hand. Watching as you pull his arm up between the two of you, keeping your eyes locked on his as you place your lips on his pulse point.

A soft, tender kiss.

The pure rawness of the moment twists something deep within him.  His free hand moves to the side of your face, thumb sweeping gently across your cheekbone as your lips part revealing your fangs. Strikingly white against the red tint of your plush lips. The slight pinch as you puncture the vein causes him to twitch against the fabric of his pants and you feel it, grinding your hips against him again. Desire pulsing through him as you draw him in. Watching your face soften from the ecstasy of it, your eyes full of need – for him.

When your lips pull away from his wrist, his hand drags your face to his, pressing his lips to yours gently. You taste like cherries and copper and it’s heaven. He tries to hold back, fighting the urge to devour you, but you don’t as you force your tongue roughly into his mouth. His hands tangle in your hair as yours tear at his pants. A wet, hot, need radiating from your core as you free him and moan against his tongue as you slide down around him. His fingers claw into your hips as he fills and stretches you with each rise and fall of your hips. He peppers kisses down your neck until he reaches the pulse point there, scraping his teeth against your skin until he bites down on your flesh, feeling you clench around him. The small cries that slip past your lips against his ear are raw and so intimate as he shatters you, that it’s enough to do him in.

He’s spent a lot of time fighting his demons. Not embracing his dark side.

Then you happened. Hunting and monsters.

You freed him.

He finally stopped fighting his demons.

Because your demons play well with his.