im.im

Contents -

⚠ One

⚠ Two

⚠ Three

⚠ Four

⚠ Five

⚠ Six

⚠ Seven

⚠ Eight

⚠ Nine

⚠ Ten

ACOTAR Masterlist

A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.

Another requested fic and I ATE this up... I had way too much fun writing it. The plotting, the tension, the characters—everything about this had me completely hooked from start to finish!!

It's 10 whole parts which is the longest fic I've written in months, so you already know I went a little feral with the ideas and let myself fully lean into the chaos xx

He’d been convinced to go to a club in Monaco by his mates, after the insistent badgering that came after a grueling race weekend when they all needed to blow off steam. The air inside pulsed with bass-heavy beats, strobe lights slicing through the haze of perfume and sweat. Lewis wasn’t in the mood, not really, nursing an alcohol free drink at the bar, his mind still revving from the track. But then, amid the swirl of bodies and laughter, he spotted you before any of his friends did. You moved like liquid fire, your two-piece ensemble clinging to your glowing skin under the neon flashes. The long, skin-tight skirt hugged your hips in a way that made his pulse quicken, accentuating every sway as if daring the world to look away. The bandeau top barely covered anything, a teasing whisper of fabric that left far too much—and yet not enough—to the imagination. He’d seen a lot of beautiful women in his time, models and actresses who turned heads for a living, but there was an instant, visceral reaction to you that he hadn’t felt in years. A pull, magnetic and unrelenting. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. And when you spun, shaking your ass to the music with effortless confidence, Lewis had to clench his jaw, force his gaze to the floor, just to stop the physical reaction stirring in his jeans. God, even now, weeks later, the memory alone had him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hand twitching toward his waistband before he caught himself. Again.

You’d taken him back to yours that night, and you’d blown his mind in ways he couldn’t shake. He remembered it in flashes. Hot, insistent fragments that haunted him during long flights or quiet hotel nights. The way your nails raked down his back, leaving trails of fire he could still feel phantom echoes of. Your breathy sighs against his ear, turning into demands that made his blood roar. How you arched beneath him, taking control even when he thought he had it, your body moving like it was made for sin, for him. The taste of your skin, salty and sweet under his tongue, and the way you clenched around him, pulling him deeper until he lost himself entirely. It wasn’t just sex; it was a revelation, addictive and raw, leaving him spent and starving for more in the same breath. He’d replayed it a hundred times since, each recollection threatening to unravel his composure, forcing him to grip the edge of the sink or bite back a groan in the shower. It was supposed to be a one night thing. But being wrapped around your finger didn’t come close to how he'd felt when he left. He was ensnared, body and soul.

But you? You didn’t want anything to do with him afterward. You actually woke up, fierce eyes narrowing at him like he’d torched your entire world, and snapped, “What the fuck are you still doing in my bed?” No morning after glow, no lingering softness. You refused to kiss him in the morning, dodging his lean-in with a smirk that was equal parts amusement and dismissal. Lewis had found it hilarious as much as it pissed him off, how you could unravel him so completely one night and treat him like an afterthought the next. He’d offered to take you out for brunch, suggested a drive along the coast in his favorite car, even floated the idea of tickets to the next Grand Prix, front-row access to his world. Fuck, he’d have flown you anywhere if you’d given him half a glance.

But no. You’d shut it all down with cool indifference, like he was just another guy, another fleeting thrill in your unapologetically busy life. He’d practically had to beg for your number in your DMs the same day, sliding in with a charm he rarely deployed so desperately. And even then, your response had been curt, almost bored.

Since then, he’d had limited contact—sporadic texts that you answered when it suited you, leaving him hanging more often than not. You posted all the time, though. Stories that popped up like temptations on his feed: you in barely-there outfits, laughing with friends, or posing with a sultry gaze that made his phone feel too hot in his hand. Always teasing, always sexy, always driving him fucking mad. He’d scroll through them in private moments, jaw tight, fighting the urge to relieve the ache you stirred without even trying. Because to you, the night meant nothing. You were a strong independent woman, owning every room, every night, while he was left obsessing over the scraps he could get from your insta feed.

Tonight, however, you’d posted a story that snapped his restraint like a frayed rope. Skin-tight dress hugging your curves like a second skin, cleavage on full, unapologetic display, hair pulled back in a sleek updo that exposed the elegant line of your neck—the very one he’d been dreaming about running his tongue along again, tasting the pulse that thrummed there. He was done with his pride, done pretending he wasn’t utterly captivated. He didn’t care that you’d left his text on read three days ago, a casual inquiry about your week that hung unanswered like a taunt. He’d sent a reply to your story between the second and third time he’d viewed it, fingers flying over the screen before he could second guess himself.

lewishamilton: Where are you? lewishamilton: I’m back in Monaco. yourusername: i’m out lewishamilton: Let me pick you up later then, beautiful. yourusername: no? i have plans, obviously. that’s why i’m dressed up. lewishamilton: So you are in Monaco then? I can pick you up from wherever your plans are. yourusername: you are relentless lewishamilton: Is that a yes then? yourusername: it's a maybe. depends on how much you're willing to beg. lewishamilton: Beg? For you? I'd do worse. Tell me where, and I'll be there.  yourusername: you're really not getting it. i'm at a bar, living my life. why should i ditch for you? lewishamilton: Because you know it'll be better than whatever's there. Because I've been thinking about that night constantly. yourusername: cute. but flattery's cheap. lewishamilton: Not flattery. Truth. Come on, beautiful. One drink. My place. Or yours. I don't care. Just say yes. yourusername: fine. pick me up from le bar américain in an hour. don't be late, or i'm gone. lewishamilton: I'll be there in 45.

True to his word, Lewis was outside in the back of a blacked-out car, idling like a predator in the shadows of the night. His driver stood sentinel, opening the door with a nod as you approached, ushering you into the plush leather sanctuary of the backseat.

His hand found its way to your thigh the minute you'd settled, a warm, possessive claim that sent a subtle thrill racing up your spine despite yourself. His other hand reached across, fingers brushing yours as he fastened your seatbelt with deliberate care. Such a gentleman, even in his desperation.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and lifted your head to glance at him. He looked gorgeous, if you were honest with yourself, devastatingly so. Black tailored trousers that hugged his frame just right, a black knitted vest that bared his sculpted arms, ink swirling across his glowing, golden-brown skin. The entire car smelled of him too, an intoxicating blend of oud and amber and something smoky, wrapping around you like an unspoken invitation. He smirked as he caught your eyes flickering over him, the knowing curve of his lips betraying how much he relished your appraisal.

His hand gently squeezed your thigh as he spoke, voice low and laced with a gravelly edge that seemed to pull at something deep inside you. “You leave me on read for days on purpose? Playing your silly little games with me, huh?”

You grinned at him, eyes defiant and sparkling under the dim interior lights. “Look who’s still here anyway. Lewis Hamilton as my Uber driver. Cute.”

“Fucking Uber driver,” he huffed, biting his lip to stop himself from grinning straight back at you, though the amusement danced in his gaze. “I’m not even the one driving.”

“Same difference.”

“I really don’t think it is, sweetie.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. “But if it gets you in my car, I’ll play along.”

The drive back to his place was swift, the Monaco streets blurring into a neon haze under the cover of night. You asked about his last few weeks and he returned the question, his voice a low rumble over the hum of the engine. All small talk, really, a thin veil over the tension coiling between you. You caught him shifting in his seat more than once, subtle adjustments to conceal the evidence of his arousal, already straining against the confines of his trousers. It made you smirk inwardly.

You stepped into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind you. You barely glanced around at the sleek lines of modern luxury, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the glittering harbor below—none of it mattered. Not when his eyes were on you like that, hungry and reverent. He dropped to one knee without a word, his fingers deft as they slipped your heels from your feet, the cool air kissing your arches in relief. When he glanced up, meeting your gaze from that knelt position, something electric sparked in the air. His dark eyes held yours, vulnerable yet fierce, and you knew exactly what you wanted from him tonight: surrender, wrapped in that intoxicating obsession of his. You cupped his jaw, your thumb grazing along the coarse line of his beard, feeling the subtle tremor beneath your touch. You could've sworn his eyes glazed over, a haze of submissive desire clouding that sharp focus he prided himself on.

He rose fluidly once your heels were set aside, his hand finding the small of your back in a guiding press that sent warmth blooming through your skin. Leading you toward the kitchen, he murmured, “Do you want anything to drink? I have—”

“I’m not here to drink.”

He froze mid-stride, his eyebrows arching just a little as he absorbed your words, a nod following like an afterthought. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

The air thickened then, a charged silence stretching as you turned to face him fully, your back against the cool marble counter. He stepped closer, crowding your space with his athletic frame, trying to reclaim the upper hand. The dominant pull he wielded so effortlessly in every other arena didn’t work on you, though. His hands braced on either side of you, trapping you in the best way, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned in, lips hovering just out of reach. “You think you can just show up and call the shots, beautiful?” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He traced a finger down your arm, slow and deliberate, as if testing the waters, asserting control with every inch. “I’ve been waiting for this. For you. Let me show you how it’s done.”

But you weren’t one to yield so easily. Your hand slid up his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart beneath the knit fabric, and you pushed back just enough to create space, your eyes locking with his in a challenge that made his smirk falter. “Oh, you think you’re in charge here?” you murmured, your voice a silken taunt, fingers trailing lower to brush the waistband of his trousers, grazing the hardness there with featherlight pressure. He sucked in a breath, his grip on the counter tightening. You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “Beg for it first. Show me how bad you want me to let you.”

He held out for barely a second longer, jaw clenched, the dominant instinct warring with the craving you’d ignited. But then his resolve cracked, a low groan escaping him as he pressed his forehead to yours, hands sliding to your hips in a plea rather than a command. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he admitted, voice rough with need. And just like that, he relented, the fight draining from him in favour of surrender.

You ran your thumb along his bottom lip, flushed and pink, parting it slightly as his eyes searched your face, desperate for the next move.

“You want kisses, baby?”

He nodded, no hesitation now, his pride scattered like confetti on the floor.

“How bad?”

“Really fucking bad, beautiful.” His words came out breathless, and you felt the thrill of victory hum through you as you finally closed the distance, claiming what was already yours.

You kissed him fiercely, all tongue and teeth, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His hands were everywhere at once—groping, squeezing, mapping every curve like he was committing you to memory all over again. He moaned into your mouth like a man starved, deep and guttural, his hips pressing up against you in soft, slow movements that dragged even more desperate sounds from his throat. He was grinding against you like a teenager, his hard length straining through his trousers, seeking friction with a need that bordered on pathetic. And you loved it, the way you could reduce him to this—Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion, reduced to whimpers and pleas just for you.

“Bedroom.”

Lewis nodded without breaking the kiss, his breath ragged as he pulled you back with him toward the dimly lit space, navigating the hallway on instinct alone, your bodies bumping against walls in their haste.

“Take this off.”

His hands flew to the hem of his knitted vest, yanking it over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the taut planes of his chest, intricate tattoos winding over sweat-slicked skin. He stood there for a second, chest heaving, eyes devouring you like you were a goddess descended. Then his fingers were on you, reverent and frantic, peeling away your dress with trembling care. “Fuck, beautiful,” he murmured, voice thick with awe as the fabric pooled at your feet. “You’re perfect—been thinking about you every day since last time. Every fucking night, replaying it all, your skin, your taste... can’t get you out of my head.” He dropped to his knees again, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your thighs, your hips, working your panties down with a worshipful slowness. His free hand wrapped around his length, stroking himself a few times through his trousers, a low groan escaping as he did, like even that brief relief was torture without you around him. “You drive me insane, you know? So fucking obsessed with you...”

He rose, guiding you to the bed with that same possessive hand on your back, but once you were sprawled beneath him, his control frayed. He groaned loud and raw when his fingers found you soaked, sliding through your folds with a reverence that made your breath hitch. His mouth latched onto your nipple, tongue swirling, teasing, as he murmured against your skin like he was the one getting pleasured. “Ohhhh my god—” The words dissolved into a hiss as he curled his fingers inside you, deliberate and deep, hooking just right to pull a gasp from your lips. He worked you like that for what felt like eternity, his thumb circling your clit, eyes locked on your face to drink in every reaction, every flutter.

But you could feel his impatience mirroring your own, the way his free hand fumbled with his belt, shedding his trousers and boxers in a hurried tangle at the foot of the bed, his length springing free—thick, veined, and already weeping at the tip. He kicked them aside without a second glance, too consumed by you to care.

You let him take the lead at first, surrendering to missionary with him above you, his body a solid weight pressing you into the mattress. He looked so pretty when you were looking up at him. He thrust slow and deep, trying to assert the dominance he craved, his hands pinning your wrists lightly, lips brushing your ear with whispered praises. “That’s it, beautiful, feel how hard I am for you?... take me...good girl.” But even then, it was futile control slipping through his fingers like sand, his rhythm faltering whenever you clenched around him, drawing out needy whimpers that only fuelled your fire.

The shift came seamlessly, you pushing him onto his back and straddling him, sinking down with a roll of your hips that made his eyes roll back. “Feels so fucking good, baby,” he gasped, hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise, his voice breaking on the words as you set the pace, riding him with unhurried confidence that left his abs tensing beneath you. You took your time, grinding down in languid circles, feeling him throb inside you, his breaths coming faster, more erratic. He was losing it already, obsession shining in his gaze as he watched you move, utterly captivated. But you wanted more, wanted to push him further, to mark this moment with the kind of raw dominance that would linger in his memories. To remind him why he craved you so badly, why he couldn't stay away.

“Open.”

“Wha—”

You tightened your grip on his jaw, not enough to hurt, but enough to silence him mid-word, your fingers digging into the sharp line of his beard. “Open your mouth, Lewis.”

Between the way your breasts bounced in his face, the obscene wet sounds of you clenching around him, filling the room like a filthy symphony, Lewis could do nothing but obey. His braids splayed across the pillow, darkened brown eyes wide and dazed with pleasure, pupils blown as he parted his lips, tongue peeking out in anticipation.

You leaned down, letting your spit fall from your mouth into his, a slow, deliberate drop that landed with precision. It was a filthy claim, an intimate power play that stripped away any last pretense of his control, making him surrender fully to you in an instant. You’d never heard a man make a sound like he did then…a choked, desperate whine that vibrated through his chest, his hips bucking up involuntarily, as if the act alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Jesus fuck— I’m gonna come…”

You froze your movements, stilling completely atop him, watching the frustration twist his features. “No you’re not, baby.”

He choked on a moan, eyes clamping shut as he fought it off, body trembling beneath you. “Uh huh… no–no I'm not.” His voice was wrecked, pleading, every muscle taut with the effort of holding back.

You started slowly again, easing into the rhythm with deliberate rolls of your hips, drawing out a low, guttural moan from deep in his chest. Your hand cupped his cheek, thumb soothing just under his eye, tracing the faint dampness there from his earlier strain. “That’s it… you hold off till I tell you to, don’t you? Doing so good for me, Lewis.”

He nodded, his breath hitching as another moan escaped him, raw and unrestrained. “Yes, gorgeous—fuck, yes. I’ll wait for you to tell me when to come. You feel so fucking good, squeezing around me like that... please, don’t stop.”

You smiled, a wicked curve of your lips, and leaned down to kiss him, your mouths crashing together in a messy tangle of tongues and shared breaths. He kissed back with desperation, his hands roaming up your back, fingers digging in as if anchoring himself to you. A soft whimper vibrated from your throat into his mouth, the pleasure building in your core with each grind, your own arousal slick and insistent. “Mmm, you taste so good baby,” you murmured against his lips, pulling back just enough to watch his face contort in bliss.

But you weren’t done toying with him. Not yet. With a fluid grace, you shifted positions, turning away from him as he propped himself up against the headboard, his legs spreading wide in silent invitation, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. You faced away, hooking your legs under his thighs for perfect leverage, leaning forward just enough to arch your back and give him the view he craved—the hypnotic bounce of your ass as you sank down onto him again, taking him deep. Your bodies locked together in a tangle that let you control every descent, every grind, the angle hitting just right to make him hit the best spot every single time.

Lewis groaned loud and long, his hands immediately finding your hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of your spine. “Oh god, beautiful—look at you... that ass, fuck, it’s perfect. Been dreaming about this view, about feeling you like this again.” His eyes flickered from the real-life spectacle to the mirror opposite his bed, where he could drink in all of you: your breasts glistening with sweat, the flush creeping over your skin, the fierce concentration in your eyes as you rode him, your own moans spilling out unrestrained. “You’re so wet, so fucking tight... driving me crazy. Please, keep going—feels too good, baby.”

You edged him relentlessly, building the pace with teasing undulations, only to slow or still at the brink, pulling back just as his moans turned frantic. His breaths came in ragged gasps, body slick with sweat, every muscle trembling under your command. “Please, beautiful—fuck, I need it so bad,” he begged, voice cracking, his hands clutching at your hips in desperation, nails biting into your skin. “You’re... so fucking good, I can’t—ahh, yes, just like that.” Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, not quite falling, but hovering there as the pleasure bordered on exquisite pain, his obsession laid bare in every whimper, every praise. “You’re everything, baby—ruining me, and I love it. Don’t know how I survived without this... without you.” He was babbling now and it was driving you insane.

Your own pleasure mounted with each denial you gave him, a coil tightening low in your belly, your moans mingling with his. “Lewis... you feel so good stretching me out. Keep talking like that—it’s so hot, baby.” You glanced at the mirror, catching his reflection behind you, the way his gaze worshiped you, and it sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

One more denial, his head thrown back against the headboard with a broken plea—“God, please, I’ll do anything—let me come, beautiful, need to fill you up”—and then you gave in, riding harder, faster, the room filling with the slap of skin and your shared gasps. You chased your own release as much as his, grinding down with abandon, your moans turning to keening cries. “Yes, Lewis—right there, fuck, you’re so deep... gonna come all over this dick.” You both shattered at the same time, his deep groan melting with your shattered cry, bodies locked in a final, shuddering wave. He spilled inside you with a reverence that felt almost holy, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close as the aftershocks rippled through, moans fading to contented sighs. “So perfect... my beautiful girl,” he whispered, nuzzling into your back, his obsession only deepening in the quiet that followed. 

He caught his breath slowly, peppering kisses along your shoulders. The discipline he’d spent his whole life mastering was gone, shattered somewhere between your thighs and the way you’d made him beg. He knew he’d never be the same again. He was undone, and already craving more.

tags: @70srogertaylor @forzalewis44xo @mikaissance @saintslewis @liveloungeharry @knowinglewis @thegirlinblackgreensilver @palefacestudentlove @nebulastar @rem455 @vintagesoul-01 @sw33t-cupid

— user1 yn you have dressed some of the top celebrities and this is what you’re excited over??

— user2 forget that. she’s fucking LEWIS HAMILTON!!! and this is what she’s excited over???

user3 this is a v tame post for yn LMFAO

— user4 like she’s posted worse 😭

user5 she’s so unserious i’m obsessed

— user6 my fav wag

user7 i love the fact she’s dressing zendaya, showing up to her hot fiancé’s races and still finds time to shitpost

— user8 she’s so me

user9 she should be embarrassed. she’s grown

— user10 she will never see this btw

user11 i need to know lewis’ thoughts on these posts

user12 she’s the moment. i want to be her so bad.

— user13 successful in her own right AND secured the bag. #needtoBEthat

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

INSTAGRAM LIVE

yn i’m using lewis’ ninja creami to make slushies and sydney isn’t picking up her phone because she’s on set. so entertain me, my little gladiators.

user1 what flavour slushie are you making and why is it pure tequila

yn no. it’s a margarita mix. mostly anyways. all about balance babes.

user2 worst red carpet outfit request you’ve ever gotten?

yn girl some actor asked me to dress him up in head to toe camo… i wanted to be sick.

user3 yn, when’s the wedding? lewis is literally ready to propose again.

yn not until jungkook confirms he’s off the market. i need to know i’m not leaving options on the table.

user4 did you see lando’s post underneath your birthday post to lewis.

yn i did and i’m angry. how dare he be funnier than me on my own shitpost.

user5 who’s better at gift-giving, you or lewis?

yn me. obviously. lewis once got me a pen because “it looked sleek.” it was a nice pen, but still a pen.

user6 yn, if you could style anyone in history, who would it be?

yn harry styles but in 2012. imagine the chaos if he let me near those blazers.

user7 how did you guys meet?

yn via a mutual friend at a party. i thought his choice of shoes was disastrous and he thought i was funny. so obviously i went home with him that night. then i fell in love or whatever.

user8 you are literally the blueprint for chaotic but lovable. never change.

yn never will, little gladiator. never will.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by yourinstagram, thirstystan1 and 1,098,125 others.

lewishamilton: sunday best, thank you theststyle

view all 19,827 comments

yourinstagram why won’t this damn app swipe RIGHT?!?!?

— lewishamilton wrong app sweetheart

— yourinstagram oh shit 😓 can you show me how to download the right one? ever since ashley madison shut down and farmersonly.com banned me for “unsolicited flirting,” it’s been tough out here.

— lewishamilton maybe try clownsonly.com—heard they’re taking new members.

— yourinstagram wow. this from the guy who once googled “how to impress a bad bitch” and got caught.

— lewishamilton a bad bitch was impressed, wasn’t she? checkmate.

— yourinstagram yeah, well, don’t get used to it. also, happy valentine’s, loser. 💖

— lewishamilton happy valentine’s, clown. ❤️

— user1 y’all are some weirdos 😭🩷

user2 YN GIVE HIM TO MEEEEEE

user3 #NEEDTHAT

— yourinstagram #TOOBAD

— user3 YN PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

user4 need this relationship NOW

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @aliciaablueprint @theblueblub @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

DRIVER!YN BLURBS older brother/younger sister dynamic + lh44 — that dynamic where he constantly protects her from media pressure

mentor + sv5 — sebastian vettel as her mentor

protective!toto wolff — remake from this blurb

chaotic livestreams + ln4 — driver!yn and lando constantly getting caught in livestreams together

motogp!yn era — everyone wonders where the happy, smiley version of her is. then they see her past self during her motogp days

mercedes' special guest (ft. jude bellingham) — there's a good looking guest in this week's paddock, who could it be?

golden appearance (ft. harry styles) — she makes an appearance in harry styles' music video

cornered by the oldies + jb22, nr6, mw2, sv5 — driver!yn who's the retired drivers' princess

media training's worst nightmare

lh44 seeing driver!yn after signing with ferrari

keeps me grounded + lh44

redbull!yn with mv3

susie wolff's girl

playing live onstream + ln4

still number 1 + lh44 — lewis gets lowkey upset that she's getting comfy with her new teammate after he signs with ferrari

top 3 most handsome drivers

landoyn moments

first grand prix win (and an involuntary appearance at a party) — what happened after her first grand prix win

you're leaving mercedes? — her reaction to lewis leaving mercedes and finding out from the media

hot laps with Y/N L/N

an embarassing crush + sv5

deuxmoi posts about driver!yn

chicken shop date

cancelled podcast

bring back iconic podiums!

driver!yn's youtube videos

driver!yn with WAGs | part two

paparazzi shots and gossip sessions + lh44 (and roscoe)

romantic moments at the paddock — she'd never date any of them, but everyone thinks and wants her to be

crashing out + ln4

the broski report

driver!yn's own WAG — she’s never really had official public relationships during her career—while she keeps her love life private, it’s widely known that she’s had a few discrete relationships

driver!yn viral moments

driver!yn with the rookies

gossip queens + lh44

driver dynamics

driver!yn with fans

driver!yn’s relationship with her family

lando's lucky charm — how can an accidental visit to the mclaren garage lead to her being a lucky charm?

That question followed you home. The next evening, Max came up behind you in the bedroom, pressing his chest to your back and kissing your neck slowly , his silent “I need you” signal. You were needy too, and the curiosity burned hotter than usual.

You turned into his arms. "Max... about that thing my friend asked. I want to test it but let's turn it into a challenge"

His competitive grin appeared instantly. “Yeah?”

“Whoever taps out first has to be the other’s personal servant for the next two months. Whatever they want, whenever they want. No excuses.”

“Deal,” he said, eyes gleaming. “But I’m not losing, schatje.”

You both loved sabotaging each other. You had secrets to make him lose his mind. He knew your weak spots too. Game on.

You started slow, saving energy. He peeled your shirt off, you did the same to his. Clothes dropped piece by piece until you were naked. He rolled a condom on carefully, then pulled you into soft, deep kisses, hands gentle on your waist as he laid you down.

It was sweet, slow rolls of his hips, lazy making out. Until Max pulled an ace from his sleeve.

While still moving inside you with that unhurried rhythm, his thumb found your clit and started rubbing tight, perfect circles. He knew how easily you got overstimulated there. The gentle session turned electric in seconds. Your breathing grew heavy, hips jerking.

“Max— fuck...” you gasped.

He didn’t stop. He kept the slow thrusts going and rubbed your clit relentlessly until the orgasm hit you like a wave. You cried out, clenching hard around him, thighs shaking. He didn’t let your poor clit rest, drawing out every aftershock until you were panting and dizzy.

It took you a moment to recover. Then you remembered: you had to fight back if you wanted to win.

You pushed him onto his back and straddled him, sinking down onto his cock in one smooth motion. You were in control now.

“No hands,” you ordered, grabbing his wrists and pinning them beside his head.

You rode him exactly how you knew he liked: deep rolls of your hips, then faster bounces, then slowing down cruelly when he got close. Max’s eyes started rolling back, fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

“Please… please let me come,” he murmured, voice strained.

You slowed even more, teasing. “What did you say? Say it louder if you want it.”

Max was too desperate to fight his pride. “Please, Y/N… just let me come, pleasee”

“Good boy,” you whispered, riding him hard and fast until he came with a deep groan, filling the condom.

It was obvious this was only the beginning. Normally you would have stopped here, but your friend was right: pushing limits was addictive. And neither of you liked losing.

Max reached for another condom. You stopped him.

He raised an eyebrow until you slid off the bed and knelt between his legs. His cock twitched at the sight. You rarely did this ,maybe twice in five years, and he knew you weren’t a big fan. That made it even more effective.

“Don’t put it on yet.”

Max needed a bit longer to get fully hard again. You used the time to tease him with your mouth.

He hardened instantly when you kissed the tip. You teased with soft kitten licks and kisses, drawing it out. Soon his hand rested on the back of your head. You let him guide you, relaxing as he pushed deeper.

You gagged and pulled back for air. “Sorry… I’m really inexperienced with this.”

He just stroked your hair gently, breathing hard. You went back in more determined. Your eyes watered, tears slipping down your cheeks as he grew frantic. The ache between your legs became unbearable, so you slipped a hand down and rubbed your clit while sucking him.

Max groaned at the sight. You looked up at him through wet lashes and cupped his balls and that broke him. His eyes rolled back and he spilled into your mouth with a broken moan.

“You don’t have to swallow if you don’t want to,” he rasped.

But you did. You pulled off, opened your mouth to show him, then swallowed.

“Fuck… such a good girl,” he murmured, voice wrecked. His cock twitched hard at the sight.

He noticed your hand still between your legs and grinned. “Is my pretty girl horny? Want me to help?”

“Yes please,” you whispered.

He pulled you back onto the bed, spread your legs wide, and settled between them. He spread your soaked folds, admiring how your pussy clenched around nothing. He toyed with you, circling your clit, sliding fingers along your labia, dipping one finger in only to pull it out.

“Please Max, do something,” you begged, hips humping his hand.

“Naughty girl. Be patient,” he said, then gave your pussy a light slap.

Your whole body jolted and a strangled moan escaped. Max looked surprised but pleased, he’d never done that before. He did it again, a little harder. Your hips jerked and another moan tore from you.

“I see… we’re learning new things about each other,” he said, voice low. He gave one more light slap, then dove between your legs with his mouth, making you see stars.

“How about a 69 if we’re experimenting?” Max suggested with a wicked grin, still catching his breath.

The night became a blur of exploration. You tried positions you’d never bothered with before. Max took you from behind while you gripped the headboard. You rode him reverse cowgirl, grinding back against him. He fucked you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist. You switched dominance constantly : sometimes you pinned him and edged him until he begged, sometimes he held you down and made you come over and over until your voice went hoarse.

You both lay there for a minute, catching your breath, sweaty and laughing softly.

“Still good?” he asked, competitive glint still in his eyes.

“Better than you,” you shot back.

“Oh my god, Max, you and your stupid 69 jokes,” you laughed.

“Please?” He gave you the softest, subby eyes and sweet talk until you gave in.

It wasn’t a joke. He was obsessed, eating you out like a man starved while you took him back into your mouth. The mutual pleasure was overwhelming. You both came hard again.

Round… you’d lost count.

You were both exhausted, bodies covered in sweat, legs trembling. But neither would quit. You wanted to break him.

“Don’t take a condom this time,” you said, voice hoarse. “I want you raw.”

Max’s eyes darkened with surprise and lust. You were both clean and you were on birth control. He was more than happy to agree, but you could see he was fighting exhaustion too.

He slid into you bare and you both moaned at the feeling. He found your g-spot almost immediately and hammered into it relentlessly, trying to make you tap out. The raw friction felt incredible, too good. You were sore, overstimulated, and felt like it had been hours, but the pleasure kept building.

You came once more, but this time the overstimulation was bordering on too much. Your muscles were tired. Max chased his own release, thrusting deep until he spilled inside you with a guttural groan. He pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from your pussy for a moment before collapsing beside you.

You both stared at the ceiling, chests heaving.

You turned to look at each other, shocked, then started laughing weakly.

“I’m quitting,” you said at the exact same time as him.

“So… we both lose?” you asked.

“Technically yes,” Max grinned tiredly. “This time. Rematch in two days?”

You groaned but smiled. “Deal.”

He pulled you into his arms and kissed your temple. You stayed there for a while, enjoying the warmth.

“Okay, I need to go clean up,” you said eventually, trying to stand.

Max reached for you. “Sit back down, I’ll clean you up—”

Too late. Your legs gave out the second you stood. You started falling. Max tried to catch you but when he stood up, his own legs buckled too. Both of you ended up on the floor in a tangled, exhausted heap.

You burst out laughing. “I was just… searching for something on the ground.”

“Bucky!” You whined as he grabbed his keys from the counter, “You can’t do this to me, your hair is so perfect.” You leaned your upper body over the couch and pouted, although his back was to you

“Doll, I haven’t had a proper haircut in decades. I think it’s time for this ratty hair to go.” When he turned around to face you, he couldn’t help but smile ear to ear at your frown. “It will be fine.”

“You don’t know what.”

“I do,” he walked closer and kissed your forehead. “It’s just hair if you don’t like it, I’ll grow it back.” 

You huffed in protest, and he chuckled at you. “Baby, why do you even want to cut your hair?” You stretched up and wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling him closer, and your other hand went straight to his hair, running through it. 

“Because I had this hair when I was...” he paused and cleared his throat, “Well, this hair is just no longer who I am. I want everything fresh, you know.”

Your eyes soften. You couldn’t argue with him, but you still couldn’t hide your pout. “Okay.” You kissed his cheek softly, and he leaned into you. “Just promise me you will not go bald, and you will find a woman in there and ask her opinion, and you will let her know you have a girlfriend.”

“Of course,” he smiled at you. “Stop pouting,” he said, kissing your lips softly. Instinctively, you smiled, but when he pulled away, you put on a fake pout  

“You like it when I pout.”

“Not like this…and it’s too late, I saw you smile.” You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway as he kissed you gently one last time. 

You tangled your fingers into his long hair and pulled softly, and he whimpered, “Yeah, I’ll miss that.” You both chuckled and said goodbye as Bucky headed out the door to get rid of one of the sexiest parts of himself. 

…

About an hour later, you were in your bedroom folding laundry when Bucky came home. You hadn’t heard him come in over the music, but you gasped when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You gasped instantly, but relaxed when you heard his soft voice, “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled, “Hi baby,” you went to turn around to see the haircut, but his lips attached to your neck, keeping your face forward, and pinning you to his back. You chuckled, “Let me see!”  

Without answering, he pulled out flowers from behind his back and put them into your hands. They were your favorite “Shit, Bucky, is it bad?” You closed your eyes in fear that your boyfriend would be bald for the next few months, but he chuckled behind you. 

“I don’t know, actually.” Your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “Haven’t seen myself with short hair in maybe 80 years…I-I’m not sure if I look like me.”

“Can I see?” you asked softly. Suddenly, you didn’t care what it looked like. As soon as you heard the waver in his voice, you just wanted to tell him he looked handsome. 

He took a deep breath, then nodded against you, letting go. 

You turned around slowly, and as soon as your eyes landed on the new haircut…you were dripping. “Oh” was all you could manage

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and you quickly jumped to fix your words

“No, no, not oh, as in bad oh as in … oh.” Your own tone of voice made his eyebrows raise 

“So you like it?” Did you like it…you were ready to pounce any second. If he were willing, you’d let him get you pregnant just so you could pass down the luxurious hair gene 

“Yeah fuck baby, I love it. Like I really love it,” he smiled softly

“Good, good. I was worr-” he started to turn around so he could walk over to the mirror in the bathroom, but you grabbed his arm, stopping him “What?” his eyes grew worried again. 

You couldn’t even form words looking at him, so you just pulled him closer to you and kissed him roughly. It didn’t take Bucky even a second to kiss you back, his hands immediately finding your lower back. 

As the kiss grew more intense, he walked you back towards the bed, until the back of your knees hit it, causing you to fall on the mattress. Bucky was quick to get on top of you, pulling away for just a moment to look at you. 

“Bucky, you look fucking hot,” he smirked 

“Yeah?” His Brooklyn accent was strong, and you clenched around nothing. You rolled your eyes at his teasing and pulled on his hair, and he whimpred again. “Feels good when you do that, had to make sure it was still long enough for you.”

You planted yourself on your elbows and kissed him again. After a moment, his lips attached to your neck and he bit down on the spot he knew was most sensitive. “Fuck Bucky. Need you.”

He pulled away quickly and got on his knees in front of you. “Need to taste you, baby, please.” his fingers slipped under the waistband of your sweatpants, and you nodded. He practically ripped them and your underwear off in one swift motion. 

His big arms pulled your legs apart, making sure he had the perfect view of your cunt. “So pretty, baby.” 

“Bucky, please,” you whined as your hands went to his hair, trying to pull him closer, but that damn super soldier strength kept him from budging. He chuckled, close enough you could feel his breath on your pussy, and you shivered. 

“So eager, Doll. I want to have my fun,” he teased when you groaned. His hands ran up and down the sides of your thigh as his lips attached to your skin. 

He left a trail of kisses as he made his way up to your core. He paused before kissing you where you needed it most. “Need you so bad. Please, I’ll be good.”

He looked up at you, and no matter how hard he tried to play tough whenever he was looking at you, he melted, and you could always see it in his eyes. “Yeah, my good girl. Just for me?”

“Just for you, Buck.”

He hummed, content with your words, and finally put his lips on your clit. You both groaned at the same time as he began licking you slowly. “She’s so wet for me.”  His Brooklyn accent was strong whenever he was touching you.

“It’s the hair,” you teased, but it was the truth. His mouth was on you again, this time sucking faster and harder. Two fingers entered you without warning, and you cried out, encouraging Bucky to keep going.

You tried to buck your hips, but his big arms wrapped around your thighs, were keeping you in place for him. You pulled at the ends of his hair again, and he moaned against you. 

His eyes lifted to meet yours, which sent you over the edge. “Fuck Bucky, I’m gonna cum.” The third finger he shoved inside of you was his way of telling you to cum for him. 

You cried out as your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, and Bucky kept his tongue working as you let your orgasm take over you.

When you finally came down, Bucky took his lips off you, and you groaned, “Need to be inside you, baby.” He stood up and tried to turn you around, but you protested.

“Wanna see you.” he smiled, “Wanna see the new haircut” he smirked and moved you further up the bed. 

He worked his pants and shift off quickly as you took off your shirt and bra. 

He stood in front of you with his dick stiff in his hands. He spread your legs and pumped himself a few times before lining his tip up with your entrance. “‘m gonna fuck you so good, baby. Take good care of my girl, yeah?”

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you whined. Your whine was all he needed to push himself into you. 

It was slow and deliberate, and you needed more. He could tell by the way your face schruhced so he pulled himself out and without warning slammed back into you, causing you to cry out, “You feel so fucking good, Doll. So tight for me.”

You could only moan in agreement as he fucked into you. His hands wandered up your curves before landing on your tits, gripping them. “So fucking perfect for me,” he pulled on your nipples, and you whimpred, “Love that sound.”

You could barely form words; everything felt so good. His eyes were glued to your face. As you tightened around him, he moaned, “Fuck, just like that ‘m gonna cum.”

“Fuck me too, Bucky.”

“Cum for me, angel. Let it all go.” It didn’t take much more for your eyes to squeeze shut as your body shook beneath his. “Yeah, that's it, let me feel you.” 

He fucked you through your orgasm, his hitting soon after yours. As you both came down, his movements slowed until he was paused over you. Your chests rising and falling in sync.

Your hand made its way back to his hair, running through it. He chuckled softly, then leaned forward to place his forehead on yours, giving you a quick peck. “You really like the haircut?”

You chuckled, “Yes, Bucky, you look really good.”

A/N: I posted this last october if I'm not wrong, and honestly this is still one of my favorite one-shots lol. the reader's behavior and personality was heavily inspired by karen from mean girls and rose from the golden girls (a line in particular comes from one of the episodes 🥸). hope you'll enjoy it!

“I can already smell the weed from here. It’s only eleven, for fuck’s sake.” Sarah grimaces as she gets out of the driver’s seat of her Nissan Versa. 

“It’s a college party, were you expecting tea and cookies?” Nicole sighs, bent over as she reties the straps of her shoes for the umpteenth time. 

The huge mansion sits among the bare trees like a sore thumb. Strings of fake cobwebs dangle from the balconies in tangled clumps, lazily swaying in the cold October breeze. The projectors wash the building in a ghostly glow and pumpkins with bizarre carved faces line the porch, their flickering candles warping the jagged smiles into something unsettling.

The front steps are already crowded with masked people smoking, drinking and laughing too loudly. Sarah snorts out loud as one of the few latecomers nearly trips over a fake gravestone planted in the lawn beside a massive steaming cauldron that reeks faintly of dry ice.

“At least this year Ethan and his minions put some effort into decorating. Do you remember last Halloween?” Nicole turns towards the house with Sarah beside her, but then glances back to find you still standing by the car window, adjusting the corset of your costume.

“Jesus,” Sarah huffs exasperated, planting a hand on her hip. “Stop fussing, you look good!” 

“Just a sec…” You mumble absently, turning sideways to check your back.

This year, the three of you agreed to not pick a group costume. Last Halloween had been a disaster from start to finish, mainly because Nicole wanted to go as Cher, Tai and Dionne from Clueless, while you suggested Sam, Clover and Alex from Totally Spies. Sarah was too busy with her now ex-boyfriend to care either way, and a few days before the party she ditched both of you to dress up as Princess Peach and Super Mario with him. 

Naturally, you and Nicole still managed to clash over something as simple as matching outfits: she pushed for Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, but you barely knew who they were, so you argued for Daphne and Velma instead. Long story short, neither of you had time to buy decent costumes and ended up throwing together the easiest thing possible: a devil and an angel.

Just like at least thirty other girls at the party. 

That same night, Sarah caught her dear Super Mario kissing Princess Daisy—her cousin—in one of the upstairs bathrooms of this exact mansion, and from that moment on, she swore off group costumes forever.

One year later, in front of the Nissan, a Kim Possible looks pretty much done with life, while a Cher from Clueless sits on the curb smoking her first cigarette of the night. And you, a bunny in a very revealing outfit, tap your lips to even out the glittery gloss.

You thought the ears were a little too big when you bought them, but now, paired with the sheer corset and the short skirt, they look perfect.

“Okay,” you tug the skirt down out of instinct, though the snug fabric barely moves against your thighs. “I’m ready!”

“Fucking finally.” Nicole mumbles, lifting herself from the sidewalk with a groan.

“Hey—” 

Sarah’s warning comes too late. Your body is already colliding with something solid, hard as steel. A startled yelp escapes you as a large hand instantly clamps around your bare arm to keep you from stumbling backward. You realize your eyes have squeezed shut reflexively only when they flutter open at once, landing directly on a broad chest covered by what looks like a black tactical vest. Your gaze slowly drifts up, along a strong neck, until it catches on a pair of blue eyes staring down at you. The lower half of the stranger’s face is hidden behind a black mask, yet you are instantly fascinated.

“Oh, hi!” You beam, tilting your head slightly, fully aware of how much guys usually love it when you do that.

The bulky stranger simply looks at you, expression barely changing. There’s a faint furrow between his brows that makes it impossible to tell whether he’s assessing you or debating scolding you for nearly knocking yourself flat against him.

A beat of silence passes between you, in which you let your curious eyes roam shamelessly on his face, before dropping to his impossibly large shoulders. Heat tingles low in your stomach, before a hint of embarrassment curls through you at how obvious you must look beneath his unwavering stare.

Someone clears their throat behind you, but you can’t look away. You don’t want to.

“Honey, let the gentleman go, c’mon.” Sarah grabs your wrist while wrapping her other arm around your waist to gently steer you away.

The long fingers around your forearm jump back as if your skin burned him.

“Nice costume, man. Looks expensive.” Nicole nods at the strange guy, still standing rigidly in the same spot. Only his eyes move, tracking you carefully as your friends lead you toward the entrance at an unhurried pace.

Something about him feels off and Sarah has no interest in provoking some potentially dangerous individual. After all, nights like these are full of creeps looking to take advantage of crowded parties and drunk girls.

Still, you glance back twice.

Each time, you catch him still looking at you.

Before fully crossing the threshold and navigating the sea of intoxicated students, your head turns one last time. The stranger is now facing the house with his shoulders squared beneath his dark clothes, and a stupid little thrill runs through your veins at the thought that maybe he might be here for the party as well.

Years without being touched by anything except harsh hands and cold medical equipment, and what unravels the Winter Soldier is a sweet-looking girl wearing bunny ears and clothes so tight he could almost trace the shape of her nipples. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt such a delicate thing brush against him.

Because you are soft. Too soft. Too pretty. He could snap your bones with one twist of his wrist, yet you looked at him like you wanted to be swallowed whole.

His heartbeat has not slowed down since the moment his hand closed around your arm. And as much as he wanted to glare at your friend the moment she took you away from him, he had taken the chance to study your body properly: from the luscious curve of your hips straining against that pathetic excuse for a skirt, to the way your tits threatened to spill from the indecent corset that looked almost painted onto your torso. The fishnet stockings bit into your flesh with every step you took, the tiny bows stitched along the hems probably meant to make the costume cute, but to the Soldier, they only made it filthier.

But the thing that truly made him swallow thickly was the puffy, white cotton tail sewn to the back of your skirt, right at the top of your ass.

Fake.

Such a shame.

He could picture it so clearly: grabbing it between his fingers and tugging until you made that sweet little sound again for him.

It makes his jaw clench beneath the mask.

With a sharp shake of his head, the Soldier forces the intrusive thoughts away.

You weren’t supposed to be here. Nobody was.

The orders had been clear: break in, eliminate everyone inside, then wait at the nearest safe house for extraction. 

No witnesses.

The target is a former HYDRA scientist who’d escaped over a decade ago. He’d covered his tracks well, moving states almost yearly, changing names often enough to become little more than smoke in old files. The Soldier vaguely wonders if the man had worked on the Winter Soldier project at some point, even if there would be no way to know. The face in the mission folder had looked painfully ordinary. Like all the others.

The wife and son were to be eliminated too, if present.

HYDRA had enforced the no witness rule brutally during his earlier missions. Back when he still hesitated. Back when stray civilians had managed to survive because he’d been too uncertain.

He can almost feel the scars across his back throb faintly at the memory—a lesson carved into flesh.

However, this situation is entirely new for the Asset.

For starters, the black SUV belonging to the scientist is missing from its usual spot in the driveway. And considering the mansion now resembles a nightclub overflowing with sweaty college students in cheap costumes, the target is clearly elsewhere.

He can’t proceed with the mission.

HYDRA hasn’t contacted him with further instructions either, which means he’s expected to wait at the designated safe house until retrieval. That could mean tomorrow. Or next week.

The Soldier looks back at the house spilling laughter and obnoxious music into the cold night air, then glances down at his gloved hand, slowly flexing his fingers.

Your warmth still seems trapped against his palm.

With a quiet exhale, barely audible beneath the pounding bass, he starts walking toward the door.

Inside, it’s pure chaos.

The bass from the speakers had already been rattling the lawn outside, but in here it practically punches through your rib cage. You roll your eyes at the umpteenth awful EDM remix of some new pop song you don’t even know the lyrics to. Personally, you’d rather dance to early 2000s hits—preferably ones not butchered by a DJ with a SoundCloud account and too much confidence.

People spill through every hallway of the mansion. The improvised dance floor is packed shoulder to shoulder with students clumsily grinding against each other beneath flashing purple lights, while smaller groups cling to the walls, shouting over the music with red cups clenched in their hands.

The smell hits the second you step inside: a mix of cheap perfume, spilled beer soaked into hardwood floors, and sweat that makes your nose wrinkle—all layered beneath the sickeningly sweet scent of vape smoke. Laughter ricochets off the high ceilings, blending with shrill screams every time the DJ blasts the fog machine over the crowd.

A staggering vampire bumps hard into your shoulder, nearly sending you wobbling off your pumps, but Sarah promptly catches your elbow before you can stumble. She immediately sends his back a glare, before shooting a look of utter disgust toward a group of visibly wasted frat boys gathered around the kitchen island.

“I hate college.” She gags dramatically, scowling as they loudly dare each other to shotgun whatever neon-colored concoction the host is pouring into their plastic cups.  

You grin at her because, honestly, Sarah would rather be home wrapped in a blanket watching some obscure slasher movie marathon. But after the stunt she pulled last Halloween, you and Nicole practically dragged her here by force. Ever since her cheating ex, she’d shut men out entirely, and a small part of you hopes tonight might finally loosen her up enough to flirt with some attractive masked stranger for a few hours.

Your attention drifts toward the windows lining the far wall. Beyond the glass, the quiet street stretches through the chilly night, washed in pale streetlights.

The strange man is nowhere to be seen.

Almost immediately, your eyes flick toward the front door, scanning person after person as they wander in and out. Vampires. Cheerleaders. Devils. Witches. Cowboys.

No sign of the hot, tall man in black tactical gear.

Disappointment settles strangely heavy in your chest. With a small, dejected sigh, you turn back toward your friends, who are currently debating whether it’s worth risking the kitchen—where there’s at least a seventy percent chance of walking in on some couple making out—for drinks, or staying in the living room to dance instead.

Adjusting your bunny ears with a small smile, you vote for alcohol.

“Hey, Nic!”

All three of you turn at the sound of a familiar voice.

Jacob, captain of the basketball team, jogs toward your group, stopping directly in front of Nicole with an easy grin plastered across his face.

“Hey, girls. Nice costumes.” He grins, wiggling his fingers at you and Sarah in greeting. She gives him a flat nod in return.

“Hi, Jacob! You too!” You smile politely, before leaning closer to your friend. “Is that a... basketball uniform?” You mumble into her ear.

“Of course.” She raises both eyebrows, pressing her lips together as she fights a chuckle at the sight of your college team’s uniform.

Jacob isn’t a bad guy. Just a little painfully self-absorbed. And maybe slightly too obsessed with basketball—to the point where being team captain has somehow become his entire personality. Nicole went on one date with him last semester and came back with a migraine after listening to him talk about playoff rankings for nearly two hours straight.

She’d tried letting him down gently afterward, but he insisted on staying friends. Now he trails after her like an overgrown golden retriever.

“Which player did he dress up as?” You ask quietly.

Sarah’s face goes completely blank. She stares at you for a full second, mouth opening and closing once before she gives up entirely and decides eavesdropping on their conversation is more worthwhile.

“I need a teammate for beer pong,” he mentions offhandedly, pointing toward the long folding table at the far end of the living room, where rows of red cups are already set up beneath flashing lights.

Nicole grimaces slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe later? I’m with my friends right now.”

“Don’t worry about us, Nic.” You interrupt immediately, grabbing Sarah’s arm before she can object. “We’re getting drinks, then we’ll come find you, right?”

Sarah smirks at Jacob’s instantly hopeful expression and nods once.

“See?” He spreads his arms dramatically. “C’mon, we’re gonna crush them. Don’t you remember? You’ve got a winning streak to defend.”

Nicole laughs—a sharp, bright sound that somehow cuts through the pounding music.

“Okay, fine.” She sighs, sending you a half-smile.

As she steps beside him, someone near the table suddenly shouts her name. Then another voice joins in. Within seconds, half the group is chanting Nicole! loud enough to rival a halftime show.

Throwing her arms into the air, she pumps her fists along with the cheers like she’s entering a stadium instead of a living room.

Sarah shakes her head before nudging you toward the kitchen. “C’mon, Lola Bunny. Let’s get a drink.”

If his handlers found out about this, he isn’t sure he would get away with something as mild as hair pulling and a few lashes on his back.

“Cool outfit, dude!”

A guy dressed up as a banana—only his face visible through the costume—shouts after him. The Soldier glances at him briefly, expression unreadable, before continuing to run a silent scan of the room, re-evaluating the night’s target. His enhanced senses catch everything at once, unfortunately: from the humid press of bodies, to the sour-sweet spill of rum beside the DJ booth. Sweat and perfume and alcohol mingle into something thick and suffocating.

“Shit, man. That’s a nice costume you got there.” Someone slurs behind him. “Looks like real metal—” Before the hand can even reach his wrist, instincts detonate and his fingers clutch the guy’s forearm.

Hard.

“Ow ow ow—sorry sorry! Y—You’re crushing my bones, dude!”

The man wearing a cheap Jack Sparrow costume goes pale beneath the eyeliner, features twisting in pain as the Asset looms over him, a silent threat carved into posture alone.

At some point, he registers a small cluster of students turning towards them, whispering with curiosity blooming into something sharper.

Exhaling, the Soldier ultimately decides to release his grip. The pirate stumbles back into his friend, who immediately starts scolding him about consent and personal space.

Satisfied with the clear warning, the Soldier turns around, moving again through the crowd.

He raises an eyebrow, scanning the sea of people with his keen eyes. Finally, he catches a familiar pair of bunny ears excitedly turning left and right.

He walks to a dark corner of the living room with deliberate ease, folding his arms across his chest and leisurely resting back against the wall.

And he waits.

Nicole’s yellow and navy-blue plaid jacket is neatly draped across Sarah’s arm as she rolls up the sleeves of her shirt, a cocky grin spreading across her face. 

“Watch and learn, losers.” She snaps, reaching for a ping-pong ball.

From the sidelines, Sarah offers a shout of encouragement, her voice already a little hoarse from all the previous screaming as Nicole sank those balls one right after the other in the rival team’s cups with brutal consistency. You lean into her slightly, eyes tracking the table from one end to the other as a red cup still full of peach vodka sits loosely in your hand, mostly forgotten as you watch the game unfold.

Nicole lines up her shot with practiced ease, wrist flicking at just the right angle. The ball arcs, drops, and sinks cleanly into the last cup with a satisfying splash.

The crowd erupts, chants of her name break out from multiple directions as you and Sarah cheer, briefly pulling Nicole into a tight, celebratory hug. Jacob throws himself at her, and she shrieks as his muscled arms lift her body from the ground, parading your friend around like he would do with the player scoring at the last minute of an important game. Nicole blows a kiss at the losing team, and once her feet touch the floor again, she bows before the intoxicated crowd surrounding the table. 

You dart forward to hug her again, while Sarah claps behind you, still laughing. 

“God, you were amazing. That was a really Tour de France!” You beam excitedly, but Nicole just stares at you deadpan for a second, before bursting out laughing, too tipsy to deal with your clueless ass.

“Thank you, bunny.”

“Also, Jacob is still very much smitten with you.” Your eyebrows wriggle up and down and Nicole is already sighing half-amused, lips parting to say something, but Sarah’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Her expression tightens, focus snapping in place as she leans closer to you and Nicole, lowering her voice.

“Tactical guy is here.”

“Who?”

“The weird guy you bumped into outside. Black gear and blue eyes. Tactical guy.” She explains as if her choice of the nickname should be obvious.

He’s easy to spot because he doesn’t belong here—not in movement, not in stillness, not in anything about the way he stands. He towers above the crowd in matte black, posture too controlled and a judging frown permanently etched on his features.

The people around him are too inebriated to notice him, yet he doesn’t even spare a mere glance to anyone who isn’t you, not even the girl in a lingerie-level costume strutting up and down the room, hoping to catch the attention of his icy eyes. 

She doesn’t know he’s busy admiring a much better view that is making his pants tighter and tighter the more he studies it.

“Holy shit,” Nicole gasps. “He’s staring at you.”

Your stomach does a weird flip at her confirmation. At least you aren’t imagining it. 

“Yeah, and it’s creepy as hell. He hasn’t blinked once in the past five minutes.” Sarah frowns, goosebumps running up and down her arms. Nicole just smirks, eyes flicking between him and your parted lips. 

“Go talk to him!”

“What? No way!” Sarah retorts, her head snapping towards the other. “He looks like he eats people like her for breakfast.”

“Duh, that’s exactly her type!” Nicole chuckles, nudging you forward as she gently takes the cup of vodka from your hand. “C’mon, put on that pretty smile of yours and he’ll be asking you to go upstairs before the next song starts.”

Across the room, his steady gaze still hasn’t moved.

Sarah grabs your right arm again. “Seriously, something’s off about him.”

“Boring!” Nicole says in a singsong voice, rolling her eyes to the sky. “We’re literally right here if anything happens.” She touches your left elbow, subtly pushing you forward.

If this were a cartoon, they’d be the angel and devil arguing over your shoulders.

You grin as usual, even if your heart is pounding so fast you are sure it’s going to come out of your chest any moment now.

With a small nod, you leave your two bickering friends behind and slowly make your way through the bodies swaying to the beat of Candy Shop. Your heels click against the sticky floor, until they stop short in front of the brooding man. 

“Hey.” You smile, shouting over the music. “You look kinda lonely. It’s okay if you don’t know anyone, first parties are totally the worst. At my first college party, I ended up throwing up on my crush’s shoes after kissing him.” He doesn’t answer, but a deep line forms between his eyebrows.

“You’re very quiet, but that’s fine. My friend Sarah says I talk enough for two people. Or a whole group, depends on how much caffeine I’ve had.” You shrug.

Still nothing. 

“So, um… what’s your name?” You tilt your head, this time expecting at least a reluctant answer, but the guy just keeps staring down at you with an unreadable expression.

“You’re the silent type, hm?” You muse, your amused chuckle soft. “That’s okay. You’re like those spy movie protagonists who never smile until the very end, and then make everyone swoon the second they do.”

He blinks once. Slowly. Maybe a little confused?

“Anyway,” your manicured fingers adjust your bunny headband as you introduce yourself. “I don’t know if you remember but I actually ran into you earlier outside. Sorry again about that. I’m a little clumsy.” You clear your throat, taking a step forward.

“You really are a good listener, by the way!” You sigh dreamily. “Most guys just check their phones halfway through our conversation.”

“So,” You lean closer, slightly standing on the tip of your toes. “Do you want to dance? You look like you need to loosen up a little.” Your eyes immediately fall down to his torso, following the sculpted muscles hidden under those heavy clothes. It’s honestly a miracle slick doesn’t start running down your thighs the moment you realize he could literally pin you to the ground and have his wicked way with you right here in the middle of the party.

Well, you spoke too fast. 

The flimsy pair of panties you chose tonight to avoid the outline to be seen through the fit skirt, is getting damper. The thought of this beefy man fucking you until you pass out tickles the back of your brain for a second too long, and suddenly your thighs are clenching against each other in a way you are certain went unnoticed.

It didn’t. But you couldn’t know that the man in front of you is an enhanced individual who could probably track you from a single sniff of your pussy.

The pungent scent of something inherently you teases his nostrils even through the thick black mask. Yet he hesitates, as though he’s trying to determine whether ignoring you would make this conversation end faster. The problem is, he isn’t entirely sure he wants it to end. On one hand, he doubts he can keep himself together much longer if you continue speaking to him in that sweet voice, especially while standing this close to his starved body.

On the other… he doesn’t want to leave you.

But then you slip your hand into his left one, and his body stiffens.

“Wow, your hands are freezing!” You mention casually, squeezing his palm once. It’s indeed cold and weirdly smooth. Before his brain can fully process the alarming ease with which you’ve intertwined your fingers with the most dangerous weapon he possesses, you are unknowingly leading the fucking Winter Soldier straight onto a dance floor packed with sweaty college students—him silent and tense behind you, you practically glowing with excitement.

Yet, he doesn’t dare to stop you. 

Why would he do that? A gorgeous girl with soft hands and even softer eyes has been watching him like he embodies all her prohibited wet fantasies. He would be a cruel bastard to deny this pretty thing anything.

The dance floor is a chaos of flashing lights and flailing arms that makes the Soldier’s breath hitch, but you don’t give up, and lead him right into the middle of it. 

“Okay!” You yell over the music—far too close—and raise a finger. “Rule number one: just move! Don’t think too much about it or you’ll get self-conscious. I’m talking from experience.” Then raise a second one. “Rule number two: have fun!”

He just stands there—stiff as a marble statue—blue eyes darting back and forth, as if he can’t decide whether to scan the crowd like he’s on guard duty or watch the angel swaying her sinful hips right in front of him.

“See? It’s easy! Just let the music guide you.”

You smile anyway at his lack of response, peering up at him through your eyelashes. “You know, you look so cool. You’ve got this very brooding bodyguard vibe going on, like I’m some rich, dangerous man’s daughter and you’re protecting me from his enemies trying to harm me.”

Another confused blink. 

“Maybe I read too many fanfics.” You ponder under your breath, before you reprise your little tantalizing moves, giggling as your fingers barely wrap around both of his wrists to coax him to move with you.

Somewhere at the edge of the improvised dance floor, Nicole is whooping, bouncing on her feet like an overexcited puppy as she takes a sip of your drink. Beside her, Sarah observes the scene appalled.

“Shit.” She mutters, tiredly dragging a hand down her face.

“I like your company. You don’t talk much, but that’s okay. Also, you’re kind of scary—but like, in a cute way.” You chuckle, twirling once and nearly bumping into him again.

That’s when it happens.

A slow, careful shift of his shoulders, but it still is something. His movements are stiff, precise, like his body is negotiating with itself about whether it’s allowed to respond at all. But it’s enough to make you smile satisfied.

The heavy bass pulses hard through your bones, and for a moment, it’s easy to forget he isn’t even really dancing, yet his presence feels like gravity: solid, unshakable, dragging attention toward him without trying.

You turn once again, this time giving him your back. His hand accidentally brushes your hip, causing you to shiver at the faintest twitch of his fingers. They jump back at his side, flexing once like he’s fighting the urge to touch you.

You tilt your head up at him, eyelashes lowered just enough to make it feel deliberate. “Are you having fun, big guy?”

You don’t expect an answer, obviously, but the way his gaze sharpens, intensely following the movement of your lips, is enough for you. It’s not unsettling. On the contrary, it feels… focused. And you already love being the centre of his undivided attention. 

The music slows into a deeper beat, couples around you melting closer together, so you get bolder. Initially it’s your back simply brushing against his chest. And then, you unexpectedly find yourself gasping as his right arm circles your waist, keeping you firmly to his front. His jaw locks as you rub yourself against his solid body, your ass inevitably grinding against his bulge. For a second, you really think he might actually say something. Instead, his chest moves behind you with a slow exhale.

“You are so beautiful.” He murmurs against your neck, almost too quiet to hear. As a matter of fact, you don’t catch that, the words being swallowed by the loud song and the thick mask.

“Not so bad, right?” You bite your bottom lip, turning your face back enough to glance at him.

But your lips accidentally brush his mask and the last thread keeping his brain anchored to sanity rips in half.

“Oh!” A loud squeal erupts from your lips as the man spins you around and takes you into his arms. Suddenly, the world is hanging upside down.

Well, no. You are.

He throws your squirming body on his shoulder with an ease that should scare you, yet your stomach twists in excitement as you are kept completely still into his strong arms. You can feel several eyes burn through you as he struts towards the front door, an abrupt gust of cold wind sending a shiver down your spine as you realize he’s taking you somewhere outside.

“Oh my Gosh!” You giggle, feeling the urge to kick your legs like a teenage girl gushing about her crush. 

He’s taking you to the woods. This is really happening!

Inside, Nicole freezes mid-sip. “What the—is he taking her away?”

“I told you! Fuck, Nicole! I told you!” Sarah shrieks, running to the door with her friend in tow. They both stop on the porch, eyes frantically searching into the darkness, until they see you waving at them from his shoulder, grinning ear to ear. 

“Don’t wait up!” Nicole bursts out laughing, astonished.

“Holy shit, look at her, she’s loving it!”

Sarah groans in response, pressing a hand to her forehead, her chest heaving with quick, short breaths. “She’s giggling. She’s actually giggling. Why is she giggling?”

Nicole simply shrugs. “If a quiet, huge masked man with those gorgeous eyes picked me up like that to fuck me in the woods, I’d giggle too.”

They observe in silence as you get smaller and smaller, until you completely disappear amongst the dense trees. Nicole sighs, placing her hands on her hips.

“Well, you heard her, don’t need to wait up.” She claps once, skipping down the front steps.

“Where the fuck are you going? Of course we’re gonna wait for her to come back.” Nicole stops at the bottom of the stoop, throwing Sarah a deadpan look.

“You really think she’s coming back here? They will probably go at it like bunnies—pun not intended—all night, and then he’s going to take her home tomorrow morning.” She climbs two steps, grasping her friend’s wrist. “Like any adult having fun on Halloween.” She tugs at it, until Sarah reluctantly complies, hesitatingly following her to the Nissan.

“I don’t know, Nic. There’s something wrong about him—” 

“So what if the guy is quiet? Maybe he just wants to stay in character.” She huffs, raising both her eyebrows expectantly. 

“Mmh... that makes sense.” Sarah mutters, frowning at the trees. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Home. And we are watching the new The Conjuring. You look miserable here.”

“Well thanks, you asshole.”

“You still haven’t told me your name.” You breathe out, yet to be released. After a few seconds of silence, you huff out a laugh. “You really don’t talk much, do you? By the way, that exit was so dramatic. I loved it!” He grunts in reply, shaking his head. It’s a deep sound that makes your legs shake a little, and you hope you’ll hear it again when he pounds you against a tree.

The walk feels endless as you dangle upside down, forced to watch the ground without anyone to talk to. Finally, he stops in a rather secluded place, and from the looks of it, you must be quite far from Ethan’s house.

Good. You don’t need some wandering drunk couple ruining your night.

As soon as your heels touch the crouching leaves scattered on the damp land, you shriek in surprise, finding yourself pinned to a tree as the man’s hands eagerly explore the sides of your body.

“O—oh! That—that feels nice.” You gasp when his palms squeeze your tits, his thumbs roughly stroking your nipples. The Asset’s eyes don’t know where to focus, torn between your hazy eyes staring up at him pleadingly and the outline of your turgid nubs pressing insistently against the fabric of your top.

“I need to kiss you.” He mumbles, the tip of your nose brushing against his mask. The hoarseness in his voice makes you flinch. It feels like he hasn’t spoken in a while... A long while.

“I don’t understand you.” You complain, clinging onto his vest to keep him close. He sighs, abruptly leaving your chest to cradle your face with a certain rudeness that twists your insides with arousal.

“Kiss. But you close… eyes…” He utters tentatively, staring right into your sparkling eyes. “Don’t look.” 

The implications of seeing his face are several and dire. First and foremost, he doesn’t even remember the last time he saw his reflection, and his heart wouldn’t bear a potential rejection. What HYDRA forces him to do is repulsive, but of course you don’t know who he is—and you don’t need to. His face could reflect that repulsiveness though, and be in the worst conditions known to mankind. At that point, why would someone as lovely as you allow him to taint your body with his touch? 

Plus, recognizing him would mean putting a target as large as a skyscraper on your back. If anyone were to ever find out about this, you would be in serious danger with both legal and illegal organizations. 

The less you know, the better.

Your eager nod momentarily sets his worries, your hands immediately shooting up to cover your face. The Soldier’s mouth twists into what should be a small smile, but probably looks more like a grimace after years of his features knowing only pain and anger. His trembling fingers reach for the side of the mask, stopping there briefly to take you in. He waits, just enough to make sure you are actually following his order. Then, the device is tossed to the side with an uncaring flick of his hand, falling on the ground with a dull thud.

His fingers shake as they wrap around each of your wrists, waiting. 

“Kiss, but… don’t look.” He repeats, his voice coming out in a rough, agitated whisper.

“My eyes are closed.” You swear, giving him a resolute nod. The Soldier lowers your hands with great care, until he can see your pinched expression as you keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

And then, your lips finally meet. From the way he was treating you a second ago, you would think he was going to kiss you just as softly, like a doll made of glass.

Wrong.

The kiss is feral. His teeth clash against yours, biting and tasting you as if he has been waiting for you his whole life, his tongue frantically searching yours as his hands keep your jaw firmly open, allowing him to do whatever he wants with you. 

And you can’t help a needy whimper from clawing out of your throat.

The Soldier pulls you closer to his chest, his metal arm now wrapping around your waist as the other hand traces a slow path down your body, from the side of your breast to your exposed thigh, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. 

He knows he just crossed an inviolable line he won’t easily come back from. He was ruined the moment he decided to look for you inside that chaotic mansion instead of following HYDRA’s orders. Yet, that stinging guilt rapidly crumbles the more he kisses this sweet creature.

He has yearned for something warm for so long. Something soft, and pretty, and nice. Something that is completely and utterly his. And now, it is time to finally collect what he is owed.

The sloppy kiss is met with eagerness from your part, your hands urgently tugging at his vest to keep him pressed against your squirming form. You need more. You need to feel him too. 

He reaches for the corset first, pulling both cups down until your breasts spill free from their confines. Once his lips leave yours to focus on your neck, you let out a gasp at how dizzy you feel—your head has been spinning all along because of the intensity radiating off him.

Your moans are still pretty restrained, and the Asset doesn’t like that at all. He wants to hear you whimper for him, beg him to paint your insides white, scream his name over and over again in that sweet voice of yours.

His name. 

He doesn’t own a name.

Maybe you could give him one. You sound like a creative girl, with all your silly little anecdotes.

When his mouth finally reaches the swell of your chest, the sight of your soft, bare tits makes him grunt appreciatively. His lips immediately latch onto one of your nipples, while his capable fingers flick and tug at the other. Your whimpers echo through the small clearing as he uses his teeth to lightly pull at your sensitive nub, moaning as he feels it hardening in his mouth. The way he kneads and sucks at your soft skin reminds you of a starving man being offered food after a week without eating.

The Soldier has never seen a more beautiful pair of breasts in his entire life. Well, he doesn’t remember ever looking at a woman’s chest before, but if he did, he is sure it wouldn’t even get close to yours. 

The hickeys that now mark the tender skin of your tits are burning, causing you to flinch each time the Soldier’s tongue worships them softly. 

“What—oh shit—what’s your name?” You utter between your own wanton noises, eyes still closed as your head falls back against the bark of the tree. Your bare back keeps brushing against it as your body jerks in time with his tongue stroking your nipples. They are so sore, tingling whenever he leaves one exposed to the chilly October air to give the other some love. Still, the scratches on your back are already burning as the coarse surface cruelly scrapes your skin, and you’re certain they are going to hurt so bad in the following days.

The Asset momentarily leaves your nub with a wet pop, frowning up at your parted lips. He grips your jaw with one hand, keeping your mouth open while rising to his full height. He gathers a bit of saliva, before letting it fall gently onto your tongue. Your breath hitches at the unexpected, lewd act.

“Swallow.” His cock twitches at the way you obey at once.

“Soldat.” His voice is authoritative, leaving no space for questions and doubts, before going back to lavish your nipples. Your eyebrows momentarily knit in confusion, not understanding what it means.

Is it a video game character? Is that why he’s all geared up like some sort of spy?

Your brain doesn’t have the time to elaborate a sensible question, as a twist of your poor, abused peaks draws a loud cry out of your throat. 

The scent coming from between your legs is now too much for his straining cock. He needs to taste all of you: your mouth is sweet, your breasts are sweet... but the Soldier is certain your pussy is even sweeter.

With an annoyed huff at the realization he has to leave your tits, he makes quick work of removing his tactical vest, tossing it on the ground. You squeal as you are once again lifted in the air; still, you keep your eyes firmly shut and that makes his expression soften a little. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, sweetheart.” With a small peck, he takes you away from the poor tree that has already witnessed enough for one night, manhandling you down on your knees and guiding your hands on the ground to make you understand he wants you on all four.

“Stay.” The order growled right into your ear, along with his hands squeezing your hips, makes you whimper and nod quickly as a reflex.

Now that he’s behind you, you deem the situation safe enough for you to slowly open your eyes. Black spots soon materialize out of nowhere, yet you notice immediately the rough fabric underneath you. 

“Oh,” you blink at it. “Thank you, Soldat.” 

There might be a feral beast clawing at his chest, challenging him to take you right there right now, over and over again, but he doesn’t want the rough ground to scratch your knees and palms. The softness in your voice makes him tense up, enough to feel an unfamiliar sting behind his eyes. His name—his title—said with so much gentleness stokes the flames in his lower belly until he feels a damn blaze licking at his insides.

You barely catch the black glove being discarded to the side as his calloused hands grope your hips, pushing you back against his crotch. You gasp at the ferocity he puts into his thrusts as he starts rutting your ass, grunting and panting with the effort of not coming in his pants like a fucking virgin seeing a pretty girl half-naked for the first time.

“This is what you’ve done to me.” He groans under his breath.

“Soldat…” You hum, one arm reaching behind to caress a strong thigh. “Don’t tell me you’re going to come like this, humping me like an animal.” The little airy giggle you let out makes him swallow, a shiver running down his back at those mocking words that should make him recoil. Instead, the fire grows, and before he can regain control of his body, his hips stop abruptly. 

His nimble fingers don’t waste any more time, lifting the hem of your skirt until your ass is completely at his mercy.

“Yes, yes!” You encourage him, gently rocking back. The heady scent is stronger now, but it’s still not enough. The flimsy panties leave you with a sad ripping noise and a feral growl rumbling in his chest. A gasp falls from your lips at the sudden bareness of your core, giggling when you hear him inhale deeply. Is he smelling your underwear? Fuck, you want to turn around so bad and enjoy the show.

The Soldier almost drools when your scent clings to his nose, along with your slick soiling the delicate fabric. He clumsily stuffs your panties into his pocket, shifting around until he’s lying right beneath the lower half of your body.

“C’mere, bunny.” His digits sink into the skin of your thighs, forcing you down until you are fully sitting on his face. “It’s time to eat.”

“Wait! Oh, fuck!” Your lips part pathetically around a breathy moan as his tongue looks for your clit, pulling your knees apart until you’re completely spread open for him. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as your hips uncontrollably buckle down, clawing at the vest when the tip of his tongue leisurely flicks your throbbing nub.

A loud moan escapes your lips when he finally breaches your hole, eating and sucking as if he’s savoring the most exquisite delicacy he’s ever had the chance to taste. Your body squirms at the unforgiving stimulation, still, you’re covering his face like a fucking oxygen mask and you’re far too worried he’s not breathing at all. 

“S—Soldat, wait! You can’t brea—AH!” A smacking sound echoes through the air as his palm leaves his mark on your asscheek. “Fuck, please! Do it again.” You beg, hips grinding down without restraint as slick shamelessly falls into his waiting mouth.

Finally.

The Asset internally preens at your enthusiastic reaction to something he did so spontaneously. Unprompted. Human.

Because you are not treating him like a ruthless weapon. A lethal killer that acts in the shadow. An ugly experiment with no dignity left. 

But like a man.

So he does it again. And again. 

“Taste so good, my pretty bunny.” He rasps out, returning to your clit, two of his fingers curling inside you in the meantime. You yelp, the knot in your belly getting closer and closer to snapping. Your asscheeks are burning, yet you don’t stop his punishing palm, instead arching up into his hand every time it comes down on your tender skin. 

“I’m gonna come.” You mumble deliriously, sobbing when in response his metal palm smacks your ass before meanly grabbing the tender flesh, and a third finger joins the other two, pounding against that sweet spot of yours before your orgasm hits you out of nowhere.

“Fuck fuck—Soldat!”

He wonders what he’s going to do from now on when he hears that word. It would be impossible to not get hard as your delightful whines resound through his mind. 

Your hole clenches desperately as he nurses on your throbbing clit one last time, panting heavily once he lifts your shaky thighs up. 

“Holy shit.” He whispers surprised, licking his lips clean. His lower face is completely damp with your arousal, and in that moment he decides he’s not going to wash his face until the scent disappears on its own. 

The Soldier takes a good, long look at your trembling body, now back on his knees behind you. His palms gently caress your raw skin, pulling a shiver out of you as one of his two palms is colder than the other, yet the sensation is soothing against your burning cheeks. 

He would really love to kiss the sensitive spots until you fall asleep, but he can’t stop now, not when his cock is painfully craving to be inside you, his imposing bulge pushing forcefully against his pants.

The rustling sounds behind you are loud but you can’t find it in yourself to focus, still dizzy after the violent orgasm Soldat drew out of you mercilessly. You are not inexperienced by any means, yet you’ve never come this hard and fast in your life. You wonder if it’s the whole situation influencing you—being half-naked in the woods while a feral, beefy stranger eats your pussy as if it’s his last day on Earth—or if he’s just that good.

Maybe it’s a mix of both, maybe it’s something else. You don’t care. You just want him to rearrange your insides. Now.

You seem to share the same sentiment as your eyes widen at his cock obstinate at your wet folds. Your gasp soon morphs into a startled moan when the tip slides inside. The way he feeds you his length is far from careful, and without warning, your hole is tightening around all of him.

The Soldier needs to take a deep breath, the muscles in his abdomen clenching to prevent himself from disappointing you by spilling his cum at once.

When was the last time he was intimate with someone? When was the last time he felt something other than fear? 

He doesn’t hold back, gradually pulling back, before lust takes over him and your trembling arms give up under you. You fall forward with a whimper, resting your cheek on his vest as his grip on your hips becomes brutal, and barely catching the foreign words being muttered under his breath.

You are delirious with pleasure, the stretch of his thick girth burning so good you can’t breath—for a second you truly fear your hole is going to tear apart.

It’s almost humiliating how it takes only a big cock and a pair of broad shoulders to reduce you to a shaky mess of moans and whimpers. 

“Beautiful, sweet creature... you’re so lovely.” The obscene, sloppy noises of your pussy swallowing every inch of him drives him insane. You’re like heaven incarnate wrapped around him, and he refuses to leave, his hips barely pulling back as he clumsily humps you from behind. 

“Mine, mine, mine.” You whisper the name he gave you, lying helpless with your eyes rolled into oblivion and drool soaking the dark fabric under you. It’s a miracle how the bunny headband still survives on your head as his harsh thrusts push your body back and forth, your fingers weakly holding onto the same ruined vest that your nipples brush against, now rubbed raw and sensitive.

“That’s a good girl. She’s squeezing me so tight, baby. I can’t let you go now that I found you, need to keep you forever here around my cock.” He grits out, head falling back as he feels his orgasm dangerously close, yet he’s ready to deny himself over and over again until he can feel you come around him again.

“Bet you’d like that... be my little cumdump until you are too full it starts spilling down your thighs. But I’ll just fuck more into you and then everyone will know you are fucking mine.” That’s when, with his mind clouded by pure pleasure, he reaches between your wet thighs, experimentally spanking your clit.

“Fuck!” Your squeal pulls a smirk on his lips, prompting him to do that again, his thrusts still frantic and erratic. 

“Take it, my sweet little bunny. That’s it.”

Your nub throbs as the man fucking you like an animal smacks it repeatedly, and you’re certain he’s enjoying himself so much watching you jolt each time, panting like a dog the louder you whimper. His tip relentlessly taps your sweet spot, and it’s just a matter of time before you let out a delirious moan, walls tightening as your second climax washes over you—this time leaving you stiff and crying as wave after wave of bliss settle deep in your bones. 

 “Got… you.” The Asset grits out breathless as he buries his cock deep into you with a hard, final thrust, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of your hole squeezing him. He falls over the edge with a guttural groan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flood your insides at once—there’s so much of it you almost choke at the unfamiliar yet pleasant sensation of being stuffed full.

You shiver under him, exhausted but sated, yet the Soldier doesn’t seem to want to budge, still hugging you tight as his thighs shakes at every little twitch of his cock. 

It feels too much.

His dick snug inside your tight heat, your body held with care by the same hands soiled with innocents’ blood, the sudden emptiness in his chest after such a heavenly experience... Should he cry? He feels like crying. He’s almost certain of it, though he doesn’t understand why. He just had the best night of his entire life with the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. 

Still, the weird sensation sits somewhere deep in his chest, heavy and unfamiliar, pressing against ribs that only know obedience and survival.

He knows he’ll have to move eventually, reality catching up to him the moment he steps too far from this strange warmth you keep offering so freely.

But he doesn’t want to let you go yet.

Honestly, he isn’t sure he can.

“Soldat, my back hurts.” Your voice is feeble yet tinted with amusement. Still, he scrambles on his knees, pulling out carefully in fear of hurting you. You wheeze softly at the sudden loss, your weak arms barely moving at your sides as you try to get yourself into an upright position, but the man behind you has other plans. You find yourself facing him at once, gently led down until your back is touching the vest.

With your mind too foggy with exhaustion, it is hard to remember the only rule he gave you. And shock flashes across your face the moment you can finally see Soldat’s handsome features clearly.

Your lips part, a compliment already rising to the surface, but it never makes it out. His hands come up instead, cradling your face with surprising tenderness before guiding you into a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no urgency in his actions this time, no hunger sharpened by desperation. Just some deep and achingly careful adoration that makes your heart clench painfully all the same. The kind of kiss that feels dangerously close to a goodbye. Like he’s trying to memorize you through touch alone.

He kisses you until your lungs are begging for oxygen, and when he finally pulls away, neither of you can move. His blue eyes simply observe you, urgently tracing your features with a spark of veneration glinting in his gaze.

You look like the personification of debauchery with your smudged mascara and lips swollen from kissing and biting, the poor bunny ears hanging crookedly from your hair after being fucked so crudely.

Yet, the Winter Soldier thinks he has never seen anything prettier.

“I looked at you.” You whisper softly, your dazed eyes dancing over his face with sleepy fascination, utterly devoid of remorse.

His right thumb lovingly strokes your cheek, and somewhere beneath the Soldier, beneath HYDRA’s cruelty, something human finally smiles back at you.

That is until you had the brilliant idea to try out for the cheerleading team. Being a cheerleader had its perks, immediate popularity, catching the attention of the football team.. oh and of course getting ruined by your hot older coach basically every other day.

You’re not quite sure how it first started. The first time you attended cheer practice your eyes immediately zeroed in on the much older man blowing a whistle. He was devilishly handsome and you were immediately hooked. That tight shirt was basically a second skin that hugged his broad shoulders and muscles, god those pecs were basically greeting you as he walked towards you with a polite smile 

“Hello, you’re the new recruit right? I’m Coach Barnes.. nice to meet you sweetheart, go put your stuff by the bench and start warming up.” That deep voice caused a sliver of heat to crawl down your stomach. The two of you shook hands and you, his big ones engulfed yours. Your thoughts drifted to imagine how they would look all over your body, those thick fingers could do so much– no– stop– that’s literally your coach! You shouldn’t have these untamed fantasies... although, your thighs seem to betray you, rubbing against each other - which he noticed, of course.

There seemed to be a crackling tension every time during practice, the way coach Barnes would help you stretch. His hands hold your waist with a firm grip whenever you seem to be off balance; you could feel the warmth of his palms even through your uniform. The first few times you thought you were simply imagining it, how his fingers linger on your legs longer than necessary, how his hands trail up your thighs and even dip under the edge of your mini cheerleading skirt that was borderline inappropriate. 

You were sure it was one-sided. There was no way in hell your cheerleading coach would reciprocate the same dirty desires whenever he was in the same room as you. That all changed one afternoon. During warm up, you were up and bending over to stretch your legs and back - what you didn’t expect was a hand giving your waist a small squeeze.

Tilting your head back, you found your coach standing right behind you, and before any words could escape your lips he pulled your body back. You felt it. 

Everyone else was too distracted to notice; it seemed innocent enough for a coach to help someone stretch, if it wasn't for the thick bulge pressing against your ass. “Just keep stretching..” he murmured loud enough for the two of you to hear, maybe it was the way he said it, or because of how inappropriate this was with everyone around, but it had your pussy clenching around nothing as you stayed still.

Slowly he began rocking back and forth, causing very slight friction between the two of you. You could feel it throb even through the layers of fabric. You tried to push your hips back for more. He wasn’t letting you. Coach Barnes held onto your waist still, preventing you from moving an inch. This made you whine softly, careful not to attract unwanted attention - Your little fit made him preen to having this control over you. 

Once it was time to actually start cheer practice, the both of you had to pull away. You immediately straightened up knowing your panties were soaked and clinging to your pussy lips. However, you were more focused on the string of precum that seemed to connect the wet spot coating coach Barnes’ shorts and your skirt, which settled right on top of his obvious erection.

Thankfully his shorts today were black, so no one would notice if they didn’t pay close attention. Watching him adjust his pants made you chuckle. He raised an eyebrow seeing your reaction. “You think it's funny? Fuckin’ brat,” he muttered out, his jaw clenched as he walked away to go rally up the other girls.

From that moment on, you decided to make it your personal mission to mess with your dear ol’ coach, walking into the practice room with your skirt pulled higher than usual. Everytime you bend down just a little it would expose your plump ass, paired with your lacy panties just to rile him up even more. At the corner of your eye you could catch his stare; hungry eyes that trace the curves of your body from bottom to top.

Teasing him did come with its consequences. Turns out it was fairly easy getting coach Barnes to snap. While everyone was practicing their flips and poses, you were on the side doing a scale pose. You effortlessly pulled your leg up, hitting that ‘High-V’ motion. Whilst balancing, you were counting every second until you hit your limit, legs trembling and breath laboured.

The countdown was interrupted when you felt a steady hand holding your thigh, pushing your legs further apart to form a straighter split. 

Coach Barnes stood behind you, his wide solid chest pressed against your back as he leaned his head close to your neck. His salt and pepper beard scratched against your neck as he whispered into your ear. “Focus, look straight and hold the pose.” He knew what he was doing and he could see the effect it had on you, the stimulation from his hand sliding closer to your core, giving small squeezes, the overall warmth of his body pressed up behind you… god you were struggling to keep it together. 

After a few moments he moved his hand up, hooking his finger under the waistband and gently stretching it, testing the elastic. He grinned, pulling on the band back far enough before letting go. The fabric snapped back, hit your skin with a smack. The sudden feeling made your knees buckle - thankfully your coach was there to keep your balance. 

“Tsk tsk tsk.. seems like you’re not concentrating today… and why is that sweetheart?” he purrs, not letting you have a breather as his fingers glide against your clothed pussy.

“Already so wet, fuck-  look at you… Better stay quiet, you hear me? Wouldn’t want any of the other girls to catch you like this, hm?” You let out a soft whimper before nodding, biting your bottom lip to keep the noises from escaping. 

The pleasure you felt from the simple friction was enough to get you close. You let out a shaky breath, panting. “Coach.. I’m close–  god– please don’t stop”. Here's where the consequences came. 

“You think this is a game? All this time you’ve been giving me a show, prancing around basically half naked...I had to go home and fuck my fist everytime cause of you. I think you need a little punishment, brat,” he snarls. His finger pushed down, prodding at your entrance through your underwear before completely pulling away.

You were at the very edge and the sudden loss of contact had your pussy throbbing for more, letting out a small whine as you tried to look like you weren’t about to cum in front of everyone a few seconds ago. He grinned in satisfaction seeing how distraught you were before walking to the center to start the cheer session as usual. 

In a hazy blur, practice was finally over. You were packing your things, already thinking about how you were going to go home and imagine your hands were his, gently sliding across the sensitive parts of your cunt.. Suddenly, coach Barnes blew his whistle, gaining everyone’s attention. The team gathered around him to listen to his announcements. “Good job everyone, I will see you for the game this Friday. But I do have to speak with you,” he points at you, before continuing. “Stay back, we have things to discuss.. everyone else is dismissed.”

Once everyone had left, coach Barnes gestured for you to follow him. You entered the room and closed the door behind you. Now it was just the two of you.. there was a heat that coiled below your stomach at the possible things that could happen right now. He beckoned you with his finger. You immediately obeyed, now standing right in front of him. He leaned down and hooked your chin up,your lips  inches from touching. 

“You seemed distracted today.. that won’t do. I think a little punishment is needed.” You tried to catch his lips for a kiss. He immediately pulled away, just for you to be out of reach. “Use your words, what does the little slut want?” His words had sent a jolt of pleasure straight down to your core. Your eyes flickered down to the massive bulge straining his shorts, and you salivated. 

Your hand rested on the bulge, rubbing it slightly. “This.. I want this, coach please– I need it- I need it so bad- I need you.” Your words satisfied him. He placed a hand on the waistband of his shorts. 

“On your knees.” The command immediately had you kneeling, positioning yourself face level with his throbbing erection. 

He pulled down his shorts and boxers, his cock now resting on your face. God it was so heavy. You could smell the precum leaking from his tip– how was he this big… Your shaky breath fanned his cock, making it twitch. Instinctually you reach out, wanting to touch his girth- but he gently swatted your hand away. Wrapping his hand around his thick cock, he slapped it against your face a few times before rubbing it all over your face. 

 You began pleading “Please, please–” 

He cuts you off by shoving his cock into your mouth. “There we go.. is that better? This is what you wanted, right?” He coos, holding your head still. Hearing your muffled replies he started to push it all the way in, until your lips were touching his base. Coach Barnes let out a groan, “Shit– you’re so warm..I knew this pretty little mouth would feel good” You gagged, his tip was hitting the very back of your throat.

One of his hands was on your face while the other fisted your hair, he roughly began rocking his cock into your mouth, using your mouth like a toy– not that you mind. You preferred being manhandled, having them do the work for you. Your whole body felt hot with need as he continued to use your mouth and all you could do was let out muffled moans. The vibrations sent pleasure down his length. 

Drool and saliva was dripping down your chin, but you were too busy being dizzy from your coach’s cock to care. You could feel it twitching inside. He was close. Your tongue started lapping at the underside of him. His thrusts became sloppy as he mumbled curses. You could see coach Barnes’ face morphing into one of intense pleasure. With a final thrust he plunged his cock all the way in. His cock pulsed as hot spurts of cum filled your mouth which you happily swallowed. 

Slowly he pulled out of your mouth, taking a moment to look at your tear-streaked, ruined makeup. He pulled you upright and cupped your face. 

“You swallowed it all? Good girl,” he smiled. You nod, as his hand moved down to your waist, gently curled around it. Right as you were coming down from your high, leaning into his touch, his hand left you again to lay a firm smack against your ass.

“Seems like you’ve learned your lesson for today, better be in top shape for friday yeah? You’re dismissed.”

You’ve been distracted for the past few days, whenever you tried to focus on anything the scent, feel and taste of his cock would cloud your mind. The girls locker room was busy with everyone touching up their makeup and rehearsing the cheer routine that they were performing soon.

Maybe after tonight's game you could get rewarded by coach Barnes, the thought had you thrumming with excitement as you all got onto the field.

The cheer performance went just as planned, perfect flips and formation. You haven’t missed a beat– well until you caught a glance of him by the bleachers with a proud smile, your chest squeezed at the sight and maybe it made you a bit distracted because you stumbled the last turn. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you quickly recovered with the ending pose, fortunately it couldn’t have been that noticeable as the crowd cheered. 

Soon all of you settled back to the bleachers to let the football teams continue their match. Coach Barnes praised the girls for their hard work tonight. He gave each of the girls either a high five or a ruffle on the head, however when it was your turn he instead patted your back before sliding his hand down and giving that ass a firm squeeze, which caused you to let out a soft gasp.

It seems like a bad night for the rival football team as they lost, the college students all cheered but the opposing players started to falter and never recovered. You were confident the reason was due to getting distracted by the cleavage shown from the low cut of your cheer tops, why else did they start staggering after half time which was coincidentally right after the routine. 

Post-game celebrations were the best part of the night, the gymnasium was prepped with food and drinks. These were exclusive to the jocks and cheerleaders, hosted by both coaches.

While sipping on some drink, you saw Elliot who was the co captain talking with his friends. Without thinking much you walked up to him, “Hey Elliot! I haven’t seen you since that party, congrats on the win tonight!” you congratulated him.

Elliot was delighted to see you, he immediately grabbed you by the waist and picked you up; With ease, he spun you around while smiling, “Thank you.. I’m sure it's because of the killer routine you guys did today. It had them tripping over themselves on the field. Which I mean– c'mon who wouldn’t be?” 

Elliot’s words were just  harmless flirting in your head, you giggled as he finally set you back down. His hands lingered around your waist for a moment longer than needed before letting go, sometimes sneaking back as the two of you caught up.

You were oblivious to the specific someone that had eavesdropped and watched the whole interaction from the side. Coach Barnes was being chatted up by the other football coach about how well his boys played tonight or something– he wasn’t paying attention. 

Seeing how the jock had his hands on your body, it made a surge of irritation go through coach Barnes’ chest, his grip tightening on the plastic cup in his hand. The nerve of Elliot to touch you so freely… Not that you seemed to mind. The conversation between the two coaches soon ended as he excused himself, discarding the half crushed cup before walking towards you.

“Sorry to cut in, Harding, but I need this little missy to help me with something.” Coach Barnes spoke, giving Elliot a firm look and interrupting the conversation between the two of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Elliot was too much of a coward to say no, so begrudgingly all he could do was nod and walk away.

Your stomach did a small swirl as coach Barnes had dragged you out of the gymnasium, already imagining where things were leading to. He took a turn heading for the girls locker room, once inside he made sure that it was just the two of you, alone. 

“You needed me for something, coach..? I’d love to help in any way I can..” you lowered your voice, hands trailing up his chest feeling his hard pecs. Instead of teasing back, he clicked his tongue and grabbed both your wrists before backing you up against the lockers, pinning your hands by the sides of your head.

“So.. Harding eh? You let anyone put their hands on you?” he growled, eyes narrowing at you in jealousy. You hadn't expected such a reaction from coach Barnes, you opened your mouth wanting to explain the misunderstanding that had formed however you paused… Why not have some fun? 

You let out an amused huff and tilted your head to the side, “Is there a problem coach? Don’t tell me you’re jealous… aw.” a retort escaped your lips, the thrill of testing the older man’s limit sent a jolt of pleasure down to your cunt. 

The way his face scrunched up in annoyance was satisfying, as expected, the result of poking the bear would be thrilling. Coach Barnes smashed his lips against yours, “He would never be able to satisfy this pretty little thing.” He murmured while his hands let go of yours, one of them trailing down and going under your skirt, a finger pressing against the clothed clit.

The little gasp you let out was practically a plea to keep going, “You need a more experienced man, not some flimsy college boy… or do I need to prove it to you?” pulling your underwear to the side he played with your bare pussy.

All you could do was whimper as your hips bucked to get his fingers closer to the heat that's building in you, “Oh? What’s this… dripping already? Tsk tsk tsk… Who’s this pussy wet for huh?” He chides, shaking his head in mock disappointment, your usual bratty self unraveled and what was left was a begging mess of nerves want and need.

“Y-you…” your voice was no louder than a breath, embarrassed to admit how wet you were for him. Coach Barnes heard your response and his lips curled into a wolfish grin, “I couldn’t catch that, one more time… you know the things I wanna hear.” His tease had your cheeks flushing as you bit your bottom lip. 

“You made me wet, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear god!–” You cut yourself off with a moan as his fingers pinched your little button. He could feel your sweet juices soak his hand, slowly he slipped two fingers in breaching that tight dripping hole. Your walls immediately clenched around his thick digits making coach Barnes groan at the feeling, god you were so warm and wet… not to mention the loud squelching noises had unraveled something in him. 

His thumb started to rub circles around your clit while the other two fingers kept pumping in and out. You let out little moans and whines, trying to swallow it down so no one passing by outside could hear how good your own coach was making you feel. He noticed and pushed the two fingers deeper inside before curling them, his fingers reaching that spongy area which made you cry out his name seeing stars. 

“God!– Coach Barnes!–” 

“So fucking needy, does my little slut want to come?” You nod desperately for him, his fingers began pumping faster helping you to chase that high. He could feel you trembling against him, drenching his whole hand. “Come for me, c’mon.” Those three words had pushed her over the edge, your eyes rolled back and your mouth formed an O shape. Your whole body was shaking, pussy clenching hard on his fingers as you came. 

As he pulled out his slick covered fingers out of your pussy, some of your cum had leaked down and dripped onto the floor. He brought his fingers up to his lips, licking them clean. The sight was intoxicating, your coach who was knuckles deep inside you just moments ago, was now sucking his fingers while groaning. “Fuck, I knew this pussy would be sweet.”

There was no snapping back, no retorts or teasing, what was left of you now was a pliant and leaking mess who’s in need of a cock to fill that pussy up.

Impatiently, he started pulling his shorts down as if the fabric was burning him. His cock sprang free, the head red with how hard he had been precum leaking from his tip. Seeing his cock again after being deprived of it these few days was like a drug. You were ready to drop down and please him but he reached out and kept a firm grip on your waist while his other hand began stroking his hard length.

“No baby, my cock wants a taste of that little pussy too.” He turned you around, making you bend over with your cheek and hands pressing against the lockers for support. Coach Barnes’ rubbed his cock against your wet folds, it would have been embarrassing how fast your slick coated his cock if it wasn’t for the feverish feeling overtaking you.

“Fuck… look at you,” the way he said it, he wasn’t talking to you but your pussy. He pressed his swollen tip against your entrance, the feeling of just how thick his head was made you squirm with excitement. As his cock breached your tight heat, you could feel every ridge and vein stretching out your walls.

Holy shit, he was huge. 

The burn from the stretch was both painful and delicious, you gasped as he kept thrusting deeper not letting you accommodate his long and girthy size. Coach Barnes stilled and groaned once his full length was inside of you, allowing you to finally breathe. You felt his balls slap against your already sensitive clit making you squirm and push back your hips needing to feel more.

“Oh God!– Coach Barnes, you're so big!” 

Your desperate little act and whine turned him on even more, not wasting anymore time he started to rock his hips into you relentlessly. “No other college boy can fuck you this good huh? You’re such a fucking slut.” He slammed his hips harder making you whimper, “I know what this pussy needs, a thick experienced cock from a real man. How does it feel to actually be filled up hm?”  

You couldn’t think straight, your body trembling from being pounded by coach Barnes however you knew better than to not respond when he was talking to you. “Good– feel good– oh!”, though it seemed like your words weren’t enough for him as his hand leaned down to pinch your hot and raw clit. “What? Didn’t catch that, use your words slut.” he snarled, pausing his thrusts to get your attention.

The sudden lack of pleasure made you whine, he squished both your cheeks with one hand tilting your head back to look at him. His eyes bored into yours waiting, “Please coach Barnes… your cock is my favourite!– I need it so bad fuck– it’s so good, so fucking big!” Satisfied he let go of your face and pulled his hips back until only the tip was inside before slamming the whole length inside in one rough thrust, burying himself to the hilt of your warmth. 

“Thats right, I’m glad you know your place baby.” 

The locker room was filled with sounds of skin slapping bouncing off the thin walls, your loud moans was a dead giveaway that someone's pussy was getting ruined inside there. Not to mention the room completely smelled like sex and sweat. 

His thrusts were getting sloppy, your walls were clenching tighter, not wanting to let go as the two of you were chasing the high that was so close. At the very peak of ecstasy suddenly coach Barnes heard footsteps walking down the hallway, getting closer to the locker room. He covered your mouth with his hand, suddenly well aware the two of them would be the first thing anyone walking in sees. 

Coach Barnes stilled and whispered into your ear in a hushed tone, "someone's coming, we have to move.” which made you huff and whine, not wanting to stop fucking. “Relax, I bet they’re just walking past… no one would come in here– just continue pleasee!” you arched your back to get some friction going. Not dealing with your whining he quickly pulled out and hauled you over his shoulder like a potato sack, the only available area to hide in is the showers. 

The footsteps were getting louder, and so was your heartbeat as he made sure nothing was left behind and went into one of the shower cubicles locking the door once inside. You were squirming and throwing a fit while he did all this, ready to tell coach Barnes he was being paranoid but you went silent the moment you heard the doors open. 

“Hello? Is someone there?”

You recognised this voice, it was the cheer captain Alice. Oh fuck. The panic was rising up but your coach knew how to handle it, he motioned for you to answer as he turned the shower head water on. Fortunately the cubicle was big enough that the water didn't hit either of you. Taking a deep breath you gulped, “Uh..– yes! It's me sorry I was just taking a shower you know how it is, I didn't wanna go back all sweaty.” 

Alice calmed down hearing a familiar voice and chatted up a conversation with you, thinking you were taking a shower. For a while coach Barnes’ shoulders relaxed knowing they weren’t caught, but as you continued the conversation with the cheer captain he couldn’t help but admire you. Skirt hitched up showing that pretty ass, panties shoved down and slick leaking down your inner thighs.

God what a sight, his half hard cock began to throb and get rock hard for you once more. Deciding to have a little fun after the things you put him through, he positioned himself behind you again, hands on your waist and gave you a little heads up by nudging his aching tip against your hole. 

Tilting your head back you looked terrified, wide eyed and shook your head no at him even if a tiny part loved the thrill and possibility of getting caught. Even if your face hid that fact, your body definitely didn’t because you were already gripping onto his tip. Seeing how your pussy practically was begging for his cock, coach Barnes’ lips curled up into a grin making you bend over properly before sliding his length inside with ease while you were in the middle of responding to Alice. 

“Yeah I think we did great to– NIGHT!” You tried covering up the moan with clearing your throat after. 

“Look at you… she could catch us any moment but that’s what fun isn’t it?– Oh you definitely like that, look at her sucking me in, god– you’re such a whore.” he whispered, leaning forward and sucking on your neck. 

It was honestly a miracle for Alice to not notice the subtle sound of skin against skin, how you were failing to even pay attention and answer with how distracted coach Barnes had you. Thank god Alice was called by her friends, she got her bag and quickly ended the conversation leaving the locker room. The moment you heard the door open and shut, all the moans and whimpers that you pushed down escaped.

Your true self unraveled fully, some bratty cheerleader who turned into nothing but a filthy slut at the sight of your coach’s cock. As he rocked his hips into you at a merciless pace, the water couldn’t hide the sounds anymore. He used his free hand to pull your top up showing your tits at full display bouncing back and forth. 

No bra, of course. 

“You always walk around like this? They’re begging for attention.” He clicked his tongue in a mock scolding tone as his pointer finger began playing with your hardened nipples, flicking at them, pinching and twisting. The unexpected touches caused jolts of pleasure straight down to your throbbing core, at this point all you were babbling nonsense as the heat was getting closer to exploding. 

“I’m gonna cum!– oh my god yes yes yes– please don’t stop!”

It seemed like you learned who you belonged to so he continued to drill into you giving you that release you longed for, as your body spasmed multiple times your thighs were trembling from the immense pleasure. He watched as you came for the second time today, your release making your walls grip around his cock even tighter. You were barely hanging on to sentience as coach Barnes continued to pump into you, after a few thrusts he grunted and buried himself to the brim. 

“Take it all– gonna fill you up fuck!–” He cummed inside of you, hot and thick white spurts filling you up completely. Both of you were a panting mess, you could barely stand without his hands holding you upright. After catching his breath, coach Barnes slowly pulled out of you. 

“My little slut made such a mess hm? Now what should you say?”

“Thank… thank you, coach.” 

“I’m hoping to see you every week after practice?” He chuckled, pulling your panties up and fixing your top. You could only afford to nod dumbly, knowing your cheerleading coach had ruined your pussy and got you addicted to his cock. No other guy could ever compete, you’d forever come running back to coach Barnes to satisfy your needs and he was happy to do so.

taglist : @superbassbuck @charlottemart @epiphanyrogers @sheriff-bodecker let me know if you would like to be added :)

jace walked back towards the bed with evident cockiness in his expression, you were sure that he couldn't shake it even if he wanted to. "just putting the silencing rune on the door." placing his mouth against your neck and his hands against your waist, unable to think of anything other than you.

your voice was above a whisper, hands roaming towards his neck. "promise?" because though he was a shadowhunter, he could still lie. a disadvantage you were seemingly always caught up in.

he parted his mouth from your neck, cocking his head to the side with a playful smile on his lips. "don't you trust me?" as if the question had been one that didn't need an answer, he'd press anyway.

your mind danced to the flashback when jace had told you he'd put the silencing rune on the door and yet as you walked out of the room the next day, you earned many stares and glances. jace had smirked at that, once confronted stating that you were his and everyone in the institute should know so. "not really." you answered honestly, voice low as a mouse.

a low chuckle fell from the blonde's lips, eyes tracing your face. "i love that you can't lie."

you, not so much.

there were many things you could have went your entire life without telling jace but when presented with the right questions, you had no choice but to answer with the truth, unable to will a lie to stain your tongue.

your own eyes traced his face. you could feel the gentleness of his fingers against your thighs, they'd moved from your waist to the nakedness of your skin, inching just below the shirt that he'd drawn up more than he'd care to admit. from earlier activities, he knew that nothing lay beneath the shirt, it only egged him on more.

his eyes bored into yours, a grin against his lips. "you really love me, don't you?" it was more of a statement, not a question. he could see it in the way your eyes couldn't leave his, the way they traced his skin so gently. you two weren't exactly 'exclusive' just yet but he was yours and you were his, it was all that mattered to the both of you.

his fingers gently moved upwards causing air to trap in your throat. "you already know the answer to that." stating the truth but unable to admit what so desperately scratched at your tongue.

around him, you couldn't be held accountable for the tales you would tell.

"no lies there." he answered, lips attaching and detaching from your neck again. "but i want to hear you say it."

his hot breath against the nape of your neck along with the tone of voice he spoke in, one of certain demand, as if he were giving you straight obligations. it was enough to have your face hot and your hands clawing at his arms.

you didn't have to be inexperienced to get so flustered around jace, it simply happened. your voice was strained, holing in a mewl at the edge of your tongue. "i can't." voice broken and shattered.

it was hard to keep a steady breath when his fingers travelled further up your skin, lips sucking on the skin of your neck, creating what he'd soon assure you was simply a 'love bite' and assure you that it was nothing to be embarrassed about, convincing you to wear it about in the institute and have people look at you funny.

"yes, you can, angel." his voice reassuring and soft, his fingers gently squeezed at your thigh. however, you answered with only a shattered gasp leading his fingers to trail further and beneath the cotton shirt over your frame. "come on, baby, say it." voice a breathless whisper against your exposed skin. "lemme hear you say it, come on."

being a seelie, you were bound by the truth, unable to lie.

however, jace herondale was the reason your mouth would spew so many words.

he couldn't force the words out of you, that wasn't how being a seelie worked, he could make you talk. but he had such a good way at making you do it, manipulating your lips into moving.

perhaps it was the gentle hand that moved upwards to your pussy, collecting the wetness of your core and causing you to whine, the feeling of his thumb sinking down on your clit and gently circling it. "say it." he teased, smirking close to your cheek.

"i love you."

and jace wore a look of satisfaction, knowing you couldn't lie, knowing it had been the truth.

"good girl." left his lips, sinking back onto your neck and allowing the first finger to enter your core. you shook, your face pushing into his shoulder and muffling your noises. "wanna hear you." is all he mumbled back. "silencing rune is on the door, baby, no one will hear you but me."

and didn't that sound like an offer you simply couldn't give up.

once again, jace herondale managed to put you in a position where you couldn't so much as fight it. a whine left your lips, feeling him add a finger into your core and pump them in and out without grace, rapidly.

you had this thing about you, beautiful soft and slow. jace would like to add that he was quite the opposite. and he relished in it. he relished in using his fingers to ram inside your hole, the palm of his hand hitting against your clit and causing enough stimulation to have your back arching from the bed, hands pawing at him like a kitten, trying to hold onto whatever sense was left in your head, using him to ground you.

however, the more you grasped at his big arms, caging you, the deeper you fell.

it was almost impossible to will your mind back to reality and jace didn't bother to help. on the contrary, he pushed you even further.

"good girl, good girl." smiling gently as he repeated the words to himself. his free hand came down on your face, thumb swiping across your bottom lip and watching as your face scrunched up in emotions you couldn't quite string together. "such a good girl f'me, huh?" words as much of a tease as they were a praise. "my pretty girl, yeah? you my pretty girl?"

and you were so far gone that you couldn't register the words that moved from his mouth to your ears, nodding and babbling incoherent words, whines and whimpers stretching from your mouth.

finally, you felt the familiar knot inside your stomach and the boy did nothing to stop his movements, willing you over the edge until finally he felt your juices on his fingers. he brought his hand up to lick them off, watching as your eyes shut and your pawing hands pulled him closer.

this time, he moved with your hands, coming closer to your body and letting you grasp onto him, the only reality left.

and the words seemed metallic on your tongue, unable to string anything else together. "i love you." you whispered, hopelessly. "i love you." like a prayer on one's dying tongue.

there was something eerily comforting to jace, knowing you couldn't lie to him, bound only by the truth.

i love you too repeated in his own head, willing it to move to his tongue. jace wasn't like you, he had the option to lie, though he'd never do such a thing.

yet he found the words harder to lift onto his tongue, unknowing if you'd ever believe him in the assuredness that he believed you. perhaps it was everything he was afraid of.

which is why he said nothing.

His hand dove into the folds of his robe, withdrawing a dull knife. You caught her smile before she dodged Meryl’s swift kick, sword arching down in a swing that cut cleanly through his back leg.

You didn’t stay to watch the second swing that nearly separated Meryl’s head from his shoulders. The street was still eerily silent.

Meryl hadn’t gotten the chance to raise the alarms. 

You ran to the other side of your apartment, knocking one of the windows open. The smell of smoke, acrid and bitter, flooded your nose. Your stomach turned, nearly emptying itself of your dinner. 

A blanket of haze covered the bottom floor, the flickering of flames beginning to lick up the outer edges of the massive room. 

The Alcove - your home - was on fire.

Your apartment was built separately from The Alcove with no direct path linking the two together. Normally you would simply walk down the stairs and enter through one of The Alcove’s main entrances with its hand-carved archways and stone pegasuses. But with the murderous female lurking outside, that was simply not an option.

You pulled the neck of your sweater up and over the lower half of your face, ignoring the stinging of your eyes. You steeled your nerves and slid your foot out, finding purchase on the decorative molding that lined the walls. Many times you’d thought about scaling the walls instead of trekking down dozens of flights of stairs. You’d never actually done it. 

The soft skin of your palms protested as you shimmied your way down and then jumped the last ten feet onto the walkway. There was no grace in your movements, and no time to dwell on the rough landing before you began flying down the stairs, begging the Mother and Meryl to give you time to cross the expanse of the library. 

Meryl’s apartment lay on the opposite side of The Alcove on the first floor, and unlike your apartment, had a door leading directly to the stacks. The white rune, carved into Meryl’s door, stared at you like the eye of a god. 

Some vague myths about ancient giants crossed your mind. They’d been worshiped in these lands before the rise of the High Lords with brains so vast you could climb in through their ears and walk amongst the grooves like a child in a corn maze. You felt like that child now, the familiar turns and patterns of the atheneum slipping away into mist.

You had no patience to walk the last flights of stairs. You threw yourself off the lower walkway, ankle twisted painfully beneath you as you crumpled onto the floor. 

Just make it to the door. Just make it to the door. 

The first duty of a Librarian was to save the atheneum. Always. 

Again that white rune stared at you from across the floor, winking with the flashes of firelight as the flames gorged themselves on book pages. 

Save the Alcove.

You ignored the pain in your leg, running towards the door with gritted teeth. Three bodies littered the floor, blood blossoming around colorful robes like roses in springtime. 

Save the Alcove.

You wrenched the knife from the sliver in the wall, slicing your palm open with a sharp intake of breath. Warm blood spilled out, dripping onto the floor and then down the wall as you pressed your palm against the rune, muttering the words all Librarians knew by heart - words that would seal The Alcove from the outside world and draw all oxygen from within.

“Beali tchnemonon aschzernai belar-” The rune began to glow, rivers of white light tracing the carving on the door. The doors began to groan as threads of magic shot outward, weaving through the stone and preparing to seal it shut.

“Stop. Say nothing.” A voice said, soft as velvet and hard as scales. 

Your tongue froze up, the rune dimming as teeth sank into the soft flesh of your mind and began to tear through your mental shields.

___________

Azriel chewed carefully, washing down the meat with a swig of sweet wine. All throughout dinner Helion had been glowering at him, one hand gripping the golden hilt of his steak knife like he was prepared to aim it between Azriel’s eyes. 

“Did you spend the whole day with her?” Feyre had asked him when he’d finally arrived for dinner twenty minutes late. 

Everyone else was dressed in their court attire. Even Cassian had changed out of his leathers and was currently pulling at the high collar of his shirt. But not Azriel. He’d arrived late in plain clothes, hair disheveled and face impassive. He gave a nod in response to Feyre’s silent question before settling down beside Cassian. His brother threw him a knowing wink. 

Rhysand looked pleased with himself. Feyre looked pleased. Everyone was pleased… everyone but Helion. 

“Finally! The Shadowsinger arrives!” The comment rolled off his tongue and fell flat, “Now we can eat.”

“I apologize, Helion. I lost track of time.” Azriel said truthfully. He had lost track of time. He wished he’d lost track of it for longer. Then he might still be in your living room, dreaming about kissing you. 

Dinner was a business affair. Theories about Koschei’s next plans punctuated by the appearance of roasted chestnuts, soft-boiled quail eggs, honey rolls, and stuffed duck on the table. 

“He can’t escape the lake.” Rhysand said, “Though the gods know he’s trying.” 

“He can’t escape yet.” Helion countered, brows furrowed in concern, “There’s a piece we’re missing to this.”

“The Cauldron.” Feyre ran a lazy finger over the lip of her wineglass to disguise the unease settling in her stomach, “He’s searching for it.” She tilted her head towards Azriel, “Az found evidence that some of Koschei’s followers have been breaking into the temples further up north.”

Helion shook his head, “It wouldn’t do them any good to search an old hiding place. And it’s not like the legs of the Cauldron are with the priestesses anymore. They must be looking for something else.”

“What else is in the temples except old books and ceremonial artifacts?” Cassian asked. 

“Old books can sometimes be the most powerful objects in the world.” Helion said with a small smirk, “I wouldn’t look down on them so much.” 

“Tell that to a sword.”

“Tell that to a two-thousand page text thrown at your head.” 

Cassian grinned, “I would dodge it. Easy.”

“With that inflated head of yours, I’d hardly be able to miss.”

Azriel smiled inwardly. That sounded like something you might say. Not even four hours since he’d last seen you and he was missing your gentle smile, the crease in your brows when you read, the occasional jangle of your bracelets when you shook out the cramps in your wrist. 

Feyre thought long and hard, staring at the surface of her wine like the answers might materialize there. She couldn’t get her mind off the Cauldron. The most important events that had taken place in the last fifty years could be tied back to its magic. The magic that currently flooded through Nesta and Elain’s veins. 

With its power anything seemed possible - even separating a deity like Koschei from the lake where he’d been confined for centuries.

“What if they’re not looking for the Cauldron itself?” Everyone looked at her, waiting to hear the High Lady’s next words. “What if they’re just looking for something tied to it?”

Cassian dropped his knife to the table with a clang.

“Nesta.” He breathed. He immediately reached out across the bond, feeling Nesta stir on the other side. She was still safe in Velaris, although he pitied any poor soul that tried to go after her.

“Or Elain.” Feyre continued.

It’s no secret they were Made. They wouldn’t need to break into a temple to figure that out or to find out where they’re staying. Rhysand sent his bonds down the bond, one hand reaching out to rub her thigh. 

Nesta and Elain could handle themselves, but that didn’t mean Feyre could shed the protective nature she’d developed through her formative human years. 

Who else then? Who else has taken power from the Cauldron? 

Jurian.

He’s human. He has no magic that Koschei could want. And the human queen has been long dead too. 

Helion glanced at Cassian who only waved him off. Rhys and Feyre did this often - getting lost in their private conversations and only sharing their thoughts at the very end. 

Meanwhile, Azriel was having his own private thoughts. 

Immunity, the innate biological process of recognizing and protecting against foreign entities, is a phenomenon that can be extended and applied to magic.

“How does it apply to mating bonds?” Azriel asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room. 

The fire crackled steadily, warming your back as you sat hunched over a volume titled “An Exegesis on the Works of Bhenaui The Stone Giant”. 

“Hmmm?” You mumbled.

He pointed to the last page of your paper where an introductory sentence on mating bonds had ended abruptly. 

“You didn’t finish your thought.” 

“Well, that’s because I’m not completely sure what my thoughts are… at least not yet.” 

“Would you tell me your thoughts? Even if you’re not sure?”

You motioned for him to hand it over, the papers floating over to you on a phantom hand made of shadows. You flipped through the pages absentmindedly, your previous thoughts coming to mind as you held your work. 

“Parents, children, siblings - they all tend to have similar forms of magic. Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.” 

Azriel nodded. He’d already read that section of your paper. Although the thought of sharing some magical connection with his half-brothers and father made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny your logic. 

“I always thought that mating bonds must be some special extension of that. Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

“Like the difference between two sets of keys, versus a key and a lock.”

“Maybe? I suppose that’s not a terrible analogy to make, but I’m not sure.” You shot him a smile, “You’re beginning to think like a Librarian, Azriel.” 

His heart sang in his chest, shadows flurrying around him. You’d quickly learned that his shadows gave away more than his face ever would. 

“What an insult to Librarians.” He quipped.

You snorted and shook your head, tossing a pen at his head. He caught it easily, just as you knew he would.

A faint flutter of panic grew in the background of his mind, unprompted and unexpected. He pushed it to the side, focusing his attention back on what you’d told him back at your apartment. 

“Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.” 

Koschei had been brother to The Weaver and The Bone Carver - both dead after centuries, if not more, of confinement to The Prison and The Cottage. It didn’t make sense for him to be searching for them. Perhaps he wanted the Cauldron to bring them back from the dead, but even that seemed like the stretch. Koschei didn’t strike Azriel as the kind of being to care for the safety and life of his siblings. 

If Azriel were in Koschei’s position, he wouldn’t be after the Cauldron. Not necessarily. The thing he’d really be dying to know was who had separated him from his power, and how.

“Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.” 

Like a lock and a key.

“Uh… Azriel?” Cassian gently grabbed Azriel’s shoulder, shaking him. 

Inky shadows climbed up his hand, the light of his red siphons swallowed up by the darkness that had begun to pour off of Azriel. 

That panic was steadily growing into something he couldn’t ignore and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. You with your brilliant ideas and a theory that he still couldn’t quite grasp, like he was trying to hold salt water in his hands. 

“Something-something feels wrong.” Azriel gasped out, a scarred hand clutching at his chest. “Cass, something’s not right. Something’s not right.” He repeated the words until he finally recognized what was wrong. 

It wasn’t his panic that he was feeling. It was yours.

___________

You screamed, thrashing about on the floor as you gripped your head between your hands. 

Get out. Get out. Get out. 

You pulled at your hair, slapped your skull like that would be what it took for the female to relinquish her hold on your mind. 

She was buried inside like a parasite - a virus slowly taking over the cellular machinery, copying it all down as she rifled through your memories as easily as a picture book. 

You shrank away from her as she lingered on one memory in particular. 

It was your fortieth birthday, although you didn’t look any older than eight. Helion sat on the floor, long legs extending beyond the cramped space between the fireplace and the couch. It was a small apartment you shared with your mother with its pale green walls and yellow daisy curtains. 

He filled every inch of it with light. His smile was so dazzling you thought he must have been one of the fairytale knights you’d spent every night obsessing over. He certainly played the part, gifting you a wooden pegasus with wings that hovered a foot above the ground when you asked it to. 

“You can’t keep doing this, Helion.” You’d stayed hidden at the top of the stairs, your pegasus nuzzling into your side and then going still.

“She’s my daughter, Leda. What am I meant to do?”

“You’re meant to leave us alone.” 

“Leda-”

“She’s growing too slowly. You saw her today, she should be fully grown by now.” 

“...I know.”  

“If anyone finds out who she is… the power she possesses. Mother help us…”

“I know. I’m-I’m sorry, Leda.” 

“You can’t keep doing this.” 

That was the last childhood memory you’d had of him, and when the pegasus’s magic had worn off, leaving him stiff and immoble, the novelty of having a knight for a father had worn off too.

You were crying now, tears streaming down your ash-stained cheeks as the female above you clicked her forked tongue. Her eyes were two chips of moonstone split by wide, rectangular pupils. 

“A High Lord’s bastard.” She sang with pleasure. “How fun.” She leaned down and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it up so forcefully you had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming. “No. No.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment, “Don’t stop. I want to hear you scream. Scream.” 

With a roar of anger you latched onto her arm, immediately feeling a flood of memories and emotion pour into your mind. 

Sick, twisted satisfaction. Pleasure. Meryl’s decapitated body hastily hidden behind a pillar. When she’d gone down into the lower levels of The Alcove, searching for the diary, she hadn’t expected to see him there. Hadn’t expected him to give her a hard time. Hadn’t expected him to fight back.

The three other fae, slaughtered in haste. Koschei would not be pleased. He would not let her join him on the lake. But she had the book. She had the book. 

The female hissed, the disorienting motion of being in your mind while you were in hers causing panic. She’d been trained to keep others out of her mind. She’d endured far more training than you had. So why couldn’t she kick you out? 

More memories. More emotions. Rising fear. You soothed it using the training she’d received. She wasn’t the virus. You were. You felt all her memories. The terrible aftermath of war on the continent. The feeling of being burned alive.

The female was trying to break away from you now, but you wouldn’t let her, not even as the smoke grew so thick it clogged your lungs. You felt her memories as if they were your own, and so long as she was in your mind, she was forced to experience it all as well.

His power is beneath the lake. Trapped. Buried. He can’t leave his soul behind. Can’t diminish himself any further. He can’t leave the lake. 

Koschei.

Koschei.

Koschei.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake? 

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!! 

Get the key. Get the key. Get the key.

The scream of her brother’s voice as Koschei splits his head in two. 

When your eyes burst open they’re so bright the female turns her face away, sobbing. Your blood soaked hand searches the floor for the knife you dropped, the knife you can see is less than a foot away. But you’re not looking at it. She is. 

She registers what you plan to do. Every thought of hers reflected in your mind like a ghostly afterimage. But it’s too late. 

You grip the knife in your hand. 

Slam it through her eye and out the back of her skull.

It’s a strange feeling to be in someone’s mind when they die. To feel like it’s your body slowly fading from existence with one final breath. 

The female’s body slumps motionless over yours, and her final memories of her brother play out one last time. 

…Then it’s just silence and the crackling of the ever approaching flames. 

When Azriel reaches The Alcove, the windows have all burst, angry tongues of fire licking the sky and gasping for breath. 

“Y/N!” Azriel roars, shooting off towards the door so hard the cobblestones crack beneath his feet. “Y/N!” 

White lights begin to splinter up the stone walls, filling invisible cracks that begin to take the shape of ancient runes. Swirls, symbols, repeating lines trace their way over the windows, sealing them shut as the flames start to hiss in protest, eating up the oxygen faster than they can draw breath. 

The door has been blown apart, the inside of The Alcove nothing more than a hurricane of ash and smoke. But when Azriel reaches them, he slams into an impenetrable wall of magic. 

“NO!” He crashes against the barrier. Light scatters outward, but holds against the shadows that burst forth from Azriel’s body. Power explodes from his siphons, but still the magic holds. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” He flies up to the windows and tries again to no avail.

The bond is still there, burning away in his chest with a passion. 

He will not lose you. Not like this. Not today. 

He touches back down on the ground, legs braced on the street as blue light begins to wrap around his chest and arms. His shadows mix in with them like ink in a tumultuous sea. 

He’s about to let his power flood out when he sees it - two dim pinpricks of light that pass through the barrier as easily as sparrows diving through the air.

You’re nothing more than a gray shadow, your knees and hands coated in a mixture of ash and blood, as you emerge from the roaring flames. Your eyes gleam a pale yellow, seeing and unseeing at the same time. You make it to the front steps and when you stumble, Azriel is there to catch you, one arm looping around your waist and you’re immediately thrust into another memory.

It’s dark and cold in the cellar. So dark that even after two days the most Azriel can do to prove he still exists is to slap his legs, then his arms, then his face. Then he knows he’s still alive. It’s the pain that helps him remember. 

“Y/n. Y/n. I need you to look at me.” Your eyes are unfocused, still glowing as Azriel helps you walk forward, one hand clasping yours close to his chest. “Y/n. Y/n. Please. Darling, please.” 

His mother sings to him, a gentle, sweet melody that’s filled with more sorrow than words. His hands are heavy with gauze and ointment, the lingering pain magnifying and shooting through his small body whenever he moves them to touch his mother’s face or to wrap his arms around her neck. 

But this is the only hour he’ll get with her this week. So he ignores the pain. He savors only the feeling of his mother’s arms around his weak back and the song she sings, hanging onto every word and committing them to memory. 

You’re vaguely aware of Helion’s deep voice shouting your name. When he touches you, you can feel his relief as acutely as the rumble of thunder before rain. The emotion rolls over you, calming your heart. 

For a brief moment you’re still the little girl he placed on top of the pegasus on your fortieth birthday. For a brief moment your mother is still alive, suppressing the smile on her lips as she watches the creature wobble to life, shake its wings, and begin to fly.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

We're getting into the action/plot now folks! Hold on tight because I have IDEAS! It's going to take time for me to explain it all in the story, but I promise you I have a plan

You lay in the generous king-size bed in the tent you shared with your mates on the Autumn Court grounds.

You and Azriel were already snuggled up in bed, waiting for Rhysand to join you once he was done with his ‘High Lords Only’ meeting in Kallias’ tent. 

Azriel lay behind you, spooning you into his body like the perfect cocoon. You felt his warm breath on your neck as he gave you gentle kisses and whispered ‘I love you’s’ in your ear.

One of his arms was extended for you to use his bicep as a pillow, despite the luxurious, plush pillows you had on the bed. His other arm was wrapped around your waist, squeezing you with reassurance now and again. Your legs were a tangle of long vines. 

The breeze of the Autumn Court drifted through the tent, and you felt an overwhelming amount of love and gratitude for your life; that you had found not one but two mates who would give anything to keep you safe and smiling. 

You started shifting in your mate's grasp, wanting to snuggle even closer into his body, even though you were already pressed against each other in your undergarments. It wasn’t enough. You needed his body to absorb yours, and then you’d finally be close enough.

“Stop wiggling,” Azriel mumbled groggily in your ear, sleep clearly creeping up on him.

“Sorry, I just wanna snuggle all close.”

“Your hips.”

“What?”

“Stop moving your hips.”

You realized you’d been wiggling your hips back and forth against his crotch in an effort to scoot into him more, and now, when you pressed back against him, you could feel the consequences of what you’d done.

It only made you want him more.

Azriel immediately noticed the shift in your scent and picked up on the arousal in your panties.

“Now look at what you’ve done,” he sighed.

“It’s not my fault!”

“It’s quite literally your fault.”

“Whatever…I want you,” you pouted.

“No. Not during missions. You know the rules.” He wouldn’t even open his eyes to look at you when you craned your head back to meet his gaze.

You started moving your hips in slow circles again.

“Pleaaaase, Az, I need you. Don’t you wanna feel me?” You reached an arm back and snaked it around his head, running your fingers through his black hair, then tugging it gently.

Azriel’s hips bucked forward slightly in response, and you suppressed a smile. He finally opened his hazel eyes to look at you.

“Of course I do. I always do. It’s just that now is not the time. There are fae I don’t fully trust surrounding us, and I have what you call my ‘Scary Spymaster’ reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, c’mon, Az, I’m sure the other High Lords and their emissaries will understand that everyone, even the Spymaster of the Night Court, needs to get laid.”

You heard him smile in your ear, then his demeanour hardened again. 

“Sweetheart, I love you, but if you don’t stop moving your hips, I’m gonna have to ask you as the Spymaster, not as your mate.”

Joke's on him, that little ‘threat’ only made your panties soaked, and his throaty groan meant he knew it.

“Azriel,” you whined, not giving up on your desperate horniness, “please just fuck me.”

But he didn’t respond. You noticed his breathing still, so you stilled yours as well, and finally stopped moving your hips. 

Darkness slid over the tent. You propped yourself up on one elbow and scanned the room as Azriel lightly chuckled.

“Maybe you’ll listen to him then.”

Rhysand stepped out of the shadows, looking directly at you with darkened, purple eyes. 

“Do you know that I can smell how wet you are from Kallias’ tent?”

Your cheeks heated in slight embarrassment.

“Sorry, Rhys,” you knew how much he hated it when you teased him during meetings. At least this time it wasn’t your fault, right? It was unintentional. Maybe he’d understand that.

“And you,” he shifted his gaze to Az, who raised a furrowed brow, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants?”

Azriel huffed out a laugh and relaxed his face, leaning into the pillow.

“I told her, brother. I told her to stop grinding her ass into me, and our mate didn’t seem to want to listen.”

You were slightly intimidated, but also somehow getting more turned on. As much as you didn’t want your mates to be genuinely angry with you, you did want them to punish you in ways you’d all enjoy.

You tucked your elbow down to your side and leaned back into the nook between Azriel’s neck and shoulder, pulling the blanket up higher to your chin.

He turned his head to kiss your temple, as if sensing you needed to know they weren’t genuinely angry with you. 

Rhysand began stalking towards the bed.

“Don’t cower now, darling, you weren’t afraid to disobey Azriel’s orders a moment ago.”

You gathered your confidence.

“I don’t have to take orders from him or you just because you’re my mates.”

“Of course not, darling, your mates can never tell you what to do,” he lowered his voice an octave, “but your High Lord sure can.”

You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation. Az moved his hand from your waist up to your stomach and stopped just beneath your breasts, which were covered by nothing but your thin, white tank top.

Once again, your hips began moving, but this time it was on instinct. You always shifted your hips around when your mates were getting you all hot and bothered. 

Rhysand’s eyes went right down to the moving blanket.

“Cauldron. You won’t listen to your mate or your High Lord when they tell you to stop teasing? Darling, you know we can’t have that. If you can't keep still…we’ll have to make you.” 

With that, he reached the foot of the bed and earned a yelp from you when he grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him. 

Everything happened so quickly with his fae abilities: the blanket was gone, your undergarments were gone, and you were flipped onto your hands and knees on the edge of the bed, looking at Azriel, who began shifting to the middle of the mattress, still lying on his back. 

Your High Lord spoke from behind you:

“I know how much you love to fuck yourself on my dick,” it was true. Whenever your mates took you in doggy style, you loved moving your hips back to meet theirs, which is definitely why Rhys is punishing you like this, by not letting you move your hips like you so clearly loved to.

You heard him unbuttoning his pants behind you and rested your chin all the way down on the mattress.

“Look at you, so excited for your punishment. You’ve really turned into a proper whore haven’t you?” 

You looked into Azriel’s eyes as you made an ‘mhm’ sound at Rhysand. 

Azriel met your stare with intensity, then started inching towards you until your face was positioned over his dick. Then, his shadows swooshed around his underwear and took them off in a second. 

He cupped your face in his rough hands and tilted your chin up at him. You felt Rhysand put his big hands on your hips, the tip of his dick sliding against your pussy.

Azriel said, “You’re gonna take everything we give you, and you’d better not move a fucking muscle.”

Rhysand slid into you, and you gasped for breath as he started fucking you at a steady pace, gripping your hips roughly to make sure you wouldn’t move them back onto him. 

You weren’t fucking each other tonight. He was fucking you. 

Azriel still held your face in his hands. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he said lovingly, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted dick so bad, and now you’re getting it, so I don’t know why you’re not saying ‘thank you’ to your High Lord.”

“Th-thank you, High L-Lord,” you panted out.

Rhysand slapped your ass, and as you opened your mouth to squeal, Azriel moved your face down to his lengthy dick and stuck it inside your gaping mouth. 

You moaned around his dick as you sucked it, trying to look up at Azriel as he leaned back on both hands and let your mouth work on him. 

“Good girl,” he rasped.

You felt overwhelmed with arousal and excitement. You knew your mates would never hurt you or make you uncomfortable, so it made you feel safe enough to indulge in things like this with them. 

You moaned again as you felt your pussy getting wetter at the realization you were taking both of your mates’ dicks at once. 

Rhysand slapped your ass again. 

“You’re squeezing my dick so good, darling, keep staying still for me.”

You slid your mouth off Azriel’s dick to jerk him off, but Rhysand leaned forward and grabbed your wrists, crossing them behind your back and using them as leverage to rail himself into you even harder.

“Fuck Rhys, fuck!”

“Take it, you slut, fucking take it.”

Your eyes rolled in pleasure, and Azriel grabbed your face again.

“I didn’t say you could stop.” He moved your mouth back onto him, and you sucked him as hard and as fast as Rhysand was fucking you. 

You saw Rhysand’s wing twitch in your peripheral vision, meaning he was close. 

You wanted so desperately to push your hips back onto him, but you knew if you did, he wouldn’t let you cum for days, so you took what he gave you and kept lapping at Azriel’s dick, enjoying that you could at least move your head up and down on him. 

Azriel leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes.

“What do you think, brother? Does she deserve our cum in her?” 

Rhysand’s pace didn’t falter as he kept snapping his hips into you.

“She deserves to be filled up like the slut she is,” Rhys growled and slapped your ass again, making you moan. 

Your moan sent Azriel over the edge, and he gripped your hair tightly as he spilled into your mouth, your tongue licking at every warm drop and swallowing it. 

You came undone next, in unison with Rhysand, as you both moaned and rolled your eyes through your orgasm.

Rhys groaned as he filled you, leaning forward to brace his hands beside yours. His body swallowed you whole with love and lust.

The three of you caught your breath for a moment, then Azriel was pulling you off Rhysand’s dick towards him. 

You slid right out from underneath Rhys; Azriel turned you around so you were on your back looking at Rhys, who still had his hands braced on the bed, and was looking at you like he wasn’t done with you. 

It seemed like Azriel wasn’t done either.

He sat up against the headboard and pulled you between his legs and into his chest.

You sighed at the warm feeling of his body and leaned your head back on his broad chest.

He kissed the top of your head, then placed his long legs around yours and pried them apart. Rhysand’s cum was dripping out of you, and your pussy was sticky with it.

Rhysand growled deep and low. His purple eyes turned a navy violet. He brought his knees up to the bed and crawled towards you. 

The entire world and the rest of the fae on the battlegrounds seemed to disappear. It didn’t even feel like you were in a tent anymore.

It felt like you were in some third space; in some secret pocket of the world where only you and your mates existed when you were intimate like this. 

Azriel spoke and pulled you away from your thoughts. 

“Sometimes I pray that you never learn to listen to instructions,” he said quietly.

You huffed out a laugh as Azriel brought hands to your breasts, squeezing and massaging them. 

Rhysand still hadn’t said anything since he came. It was like he was in a trance, watching you restrained between Azriel’s legs with your pussy on display and leaking with the proof of his need for you.

He lowered himself between your thighs and placed his broad hands on them as he buried his gorgeous face into your pussy.

You moaned loud and raw, and your hands flew to his hair. Before you could grab it, Azriel’s shadows bound your wrists together.

You whimpered, and Azriel chuckled.

“Did you forget you weren’t allowed to move?” He taunted.

It was practically torture. Having Rhysand lick and suck and spit at your cunt and not being able to buck and circle your hips, not being able to grab and pull at his hair. 

It was also practically torture having Azriel palm and pull at your breasts, and not being able to let your hands fly back into his hair, too. 

He dipped his head and planted open-mouthed kisses and bites on your neck and behind your ear.

All you could do was moan and groan and whine and whimper repeatedly as your mates worked on you like this.

You could cum just looking at Rhysand like this. The High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful High Lord in history, was enamoured with your pussy. 

He was your mate, and the simplest things had him literally crawling towards you, sucking on you like it was his only mission in life.

You watched his back muscles and wings as they moved and twitched with the movements of his head in your heat and his arms running up and down your thighs. 

He moaned against your pussy, and you moaned in response, remembering he was also tasting his own cum spilling out of you. 

“Please,” you whimpered, “please, Rhys. I wanna cum.”

He ignored your request entirely and kept working on your pussy. You needed more.

“Please,” you tried again, “please put your tongue in me, Rhys.”

But it was Azriel who answered with a simple, “No.”

Azriel moved his hands to your hips and lifted you like you were just another pillow on the bed. 

Rhysand shot him a glare, like he was angry at him for taking your sweet cunt away from his lips.

Azriel held you up as he leaned his hips forward ever so slightly and lowered you right onto his long, hard dick. 

Both you and Azriel let out a throaty moan the entire way down.

Now you were back in the same position as you were seconds before, this time with Azriel filling you. 

He returned his hands to your breasts, which left you confused: if you weren’t allowed to move your hips up and down on him, and he wasn’t going to pull your hips up and down on him, then how was he going to fuck you?

You got your answer when Rhysand nuzzled his face back into your cunt, and hooked his hands beneath your thighs. He started lifting you up and down on Azriel’s dick, his mouth latched firmly onto your clit.

Azriel moved one hand around your throat and pulled your head back to look at him.

“Are you enjoying this, sweet girl?”

You were so far gone in your pleasure that you struggled to answer coherently. 

“Y-yes, Az.”

“What’s that baby? I can’t understand you when you mumble like that. Speak up.” He asserted.

You took a shaky breath and pushed out more coherent words.

“Yes, Az, I love it.”

“You love what?”

“I love being punished by my mates.”

He pulled your head up even further and leaned down to place sloppy kisses on your lips.

“Yes, you do, you little slut. What do you say to your High Lord for treating you so nicely?”

You moved your eyes towards Rhys who was so pussy-drunk you didn’t even know if he could hear you. 

His eyes were glossy, and his tongue was licking desperate circles around your clit as his toned arms never slowed their pace while he fucked you on Azriel’s dick. 

“Th-thank you, High Lord.”

Azriel squeezed your throat tighter.

“Thank you for what?”

“F-fuck, thank you for t-treating me s-so nice, High Lord.”

It turns out Rhysand could, in fact, still hear you. He moved his tongue off your pussy and brought his face to yours.

“You needed it, darling. You needed to be treated like the desperate whore you are, so you’ll finally fucking sit still in here and let your High Lord do what needs to be done out there.”

He grabbed your face out of Azriel’s grasp and pulled you towards him. 

He sat back on his knees, and you were now leaning forwards on yours, sliding slightly off of Azriel’s dick, but he gripped your hips to keep you from moving completely off him. 

You could smell and see the wetness from your cunt all over Rhysand’s mouth and chin. 

“Are you ready to cum again?” Rhysand asked.

“Yes.”

He slapped you lightly on the cheek.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, High Lord, I’m ready to cum again.”

“Good slut,” he finished before smashing his mouth onto yours and shoving his tongue so far in your mouth it was nearly touching the back of your throat. 

You tasted yourself and him on his tongue and in his mouth as Azriel started roughly pulling your hips up and down on his dick.

You yelped out a moan, and Rhysand took your gaping mouth as an opportunity to spit inside it. You swallowed his spit and stuck your tongue out in invitation for more.

“Cauldron, you’re fucking insatiable,” he said as he held your face tightly between his hands and spit in your mouth two more times before moving his thumbs under your jaw to shut your mouth and make you swallow once more.

Azriel was gripping and slapping your ass as he bounced it up and down on him. He groaned at the sound of your wet pussy sliding up and down on him, and the clapping noise it made whenever your ass met his hips. 

“Please, can I please cum?” You asked none of your mates in particular. 

Azriel responded first. 

“Cum on my dick like the slut you are, baby. I’m gonna get you all nice and full of my cum.”

He snapped your hips down onto him with unapologetic roughness a few more times before you felt him spill inside you with a loud groan. 

You met his orgasm with your own and shuddered on his dick as Rhysand held eye contact with you through your orgasm. 

Your body felt limp and drained. Azriel slid himself out of you, and you immediately felt his cum slide down your thighs. 

You let yourself fall forward against Rhys, who scooped you up bridal style. 

He moved towards the headboard beside Azriel, and they both leaned against it while you were still in Rhysand’s arms, cradled against his chest and stretching your long legs across Rhys and onto Azriel’s lap. He lovingly ran his hand up and down them.

“Shhh,” Rhysand whispered as he kissed your forehead. Azriel kissed your ankles.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked.

You smiled and nodded sleepily. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you told me to stop moving Az.”

Rhysand’s chest moved with quiet laughter, and your upper body moved with it.

“No, you’re not, darling,” he said softly and squeezed you a little tighter in his arms.

It was your turn to laugh now, and you said, “No, no, I’m not.”

Azriel started giggling too, and you fought the urge to kick your feet and squeal in excitement at how much you loved these males.

“I love you both. More than anything.”

“We love you too, sweet girl,” Azriel said.

“We really do, darling,” Rhysand added and kissed your forehead again.

After a few moments of silence, you felt yourself falling asleep on your High Lord's chest. 

You were half-asleep when Rhysand scooped you up gently and placed you in Azriel’s lap. He kissed your cheek and whispered something about having to return to his meeting.

Azriel held you close in his arms and gently rocked you back and forth.  

“No shenanigans when we go to sleep this time, understand?”

You nodded your head.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes, Az, no shenanigans, I promise.” 

“Good girl,” he whispered, and kissed your nose.

You were too fucked-out to even think about going another round. So you absorbed Azriel’s warmth and kept your eyes shut, falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

You woke up to a bright, warm, quiet tent. The first thing you noticed was that you weren’t in Azriel’s arms anymore. 

You rolled over, hoping to find him sleeping peacefully beside you, but you were equally pleased to be met with Rhysand instead.

You admired how beautiful he looked while resting. It made him look soft and boyish. 

His lips parted slightly.

“You’re staring,” he said groggily, without opening his eyes.

“I’m gazing,” you countered.

“It’s creepy.”

“It’s romantic.”

He smiled and opened his eyes, which were a completely different shade of purple than they were last night. 

“Where’s Az?” You questioned. 

Rhys stretched an arm out, inviting you into his chest. You happily accepted and scooted into him, draping an arm and a leg over his body.

“I sent him out to do some Spymaster work.”

You made a ‘hmph’ sound and pouted. Maybe it was greedy, but you wanted to fall asleep and wake up with both mates each day and night, and with all the wars on the brink of Prythian, things were getting messy and disorganized. 

Rhysand sensed your discomfort and moved the free hand that was behind his head, wrapping it around you instead and pulling you right atop him. 

“Darling, it’s okay. It’ll all be over soon, and we’ll go back to Velaris and never leave.”

You really hoped that was true.

You lifted your head and looked at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he placed a long, slow kiss on your lips that conveyed everything words couldn’t.

“You want to sleep in a bit more before Az gets back?” He asked.

You nodded eagerly and rolled off his chest and onto your side. A silent invitation for him to spoon you.

He happily accepted the invitation and nuzzled his frontside against your backside.

You sighed in contentness and Rhysand did the same, his warm breath sending shivers down your body, and right to your pussy. 

Not again, you thought. You couldn’t help it. Literally everything Rhys did turned you on. 

You decided to be bold and moved your hips around slowly.

“More already?” Rhysand asked.

You nodded shyly.

“Alright, darling, but you know…I’m exhausted from all the hard work I put into making you cum last night.”

You waited to see where he was going with this. 

He rolled you both over, and you sat up, now in the reverse cowgirl position.

You wanted to turn around, but he held your hips in place and started rocking them back and forth. His already hard dick pressing against your clit perfectly.

Then he put his hands behind his head, watching your plump ass rub and roll against him.

You kept moving, and then you realized what he wanted this time.

You craned your head back to look at him. A cheeky smirk was already planted on his face.

“You want me to do all the work this time, don’t you?”

He nodded; the same smug expression on his face.

“This time, I’ll be the one staying still.”

You matched his smirk with one of your own and started rolling your hips again.

❀࿐ ahhhh thanks for reading!