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myfictionaldreams · 5 months

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Safety Measures // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.

Extra reading: Last Hope for background context

A/N: Happy New Year, beautiful readers! I hope everyone is well and safe.

Requested by: @theatrelove3000 thank you so so much for the request and all your support with my writing. As always, you're the best!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, polyamory, ptsd, anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, discussion of past abuse, domestic fluff, dom/sub undertones, cock warming, subspace (kinda), hurt/comfort, new member of the family (yay!), puppy

Words: 4.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Insomnia was an issue you’d never had to deal with before. Not when you have two of the most powerful men of all of the East Coast tiring you out and wrapped around your body to make you feel safe and content.

However, as the seconds ticked by on the clock position on the nightstand next to the bed, you’d found that your body was willing to do anything but sleep. As midnight struck, any hope that had been inkling in your thoughts was diminished. There you were, half sprawled over Steve’s naked chest, his warmth burning through your skin, with Bucky spooning around your back, sandwiching you thoroughly between the two of them, legs crisscrossed between one another.

Even in the safe embrace, your heart continued to palpate painfully in your chest with such powerful thumps you were worried it would wake one of your lovers.

It was always this day. This date. Every year, that sprung fear through your soul, with the memories of your past returning to haunt you. Before Bucky. Before Steve or either of their safety and love, you’d been involved with your family business, reigned by your sadistic brother, Enzo, who was both hateful and abusive, causing you to live a life that was not worth living at all.

For countless years, you’d simply been floating through life, doing anything your brother demanded to benefit his gang. There was no hope, love, or light in your life until the men whose arms you were wrapped tightly in found you, saved you, and showed you what life was about. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment, especially with the violent and bloody end to your brother, but then readjusting to the newfound freedom had taken its toll. The anxiety from your past still haunts you to this very day.

In truth, in the first few years surrounding your brother's death anniversary, you’d celebrated the beginning of your new happiness and life. However, as you grew older and had to live through the dangers of being in the most infamous mafia gang in Brooklyn, your optimistic perspective became somewhat fragile with the realities of becoming close to losing everyone and everything you loved on multiple occasions.

So now, when this dark day loomed over your head once more, your anxiety rose along with the reminder of the horrors that you’d experience throughout your lifetime. Paranoia blossomed into something that was logically not plausible, frightened that somehow, Enzo would return and take you back to the hell hole he once kept you contained within.

These fears had been discussed with both Steve and Bucky on multiple occasions, as well as your friends, who promptly reminded you that nowhere was safer on earth than with all of them. There was 24/7 surveillance within the office and your home, guards patrolling, all armed and trained, as well as having the enhanced bodies of your boyfriends always at your side.

You were safe.

Safe.

And yet, still, there you lay. Wide awake, breaths shallow, trying to remain as quiet as possible so that you may listen to any sounds of intruders walking through your home. It is an impossible feat to do either way due to the pounding of your heartbeat without your ears, the repetitive thump and drum that increased in speed over the minutes. Your palms were becoming clammy where they were resting on Steve’s chest, a faint tremble beginning to throb through your limbs as well. You closed your fingers into a tight fist, attempting to cease the shaking whilst blowing out a long breath as the clock ticked to 00:01 am.

It was no use. You couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t just simply lay there and wait to be attacked or taken.

Carefully as you could, you attempted to climb out of your fierce hold, but due to your fragile state and the firm grip of Steve and Bucky, the movements stirred them both awake.

“Baby? Everything ok? Where are you going?” Steve asked, still half asleep but attempting to rouse himself more by rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Sorry”, you whisper into the darkness, “I just needed to use the bathroom”. The lie trembled from your lips as you clumsily searched the bedroom floor for some clothing to cover your naked body. From the smell of the shirt that you were now tugging over your head, you’d found Bucky’s t-shirt in the dark. As your eyes adjusted to remain in the darkness, you could see Bucky moving closer to Steve on the bed, his face resting on the blonde's chest, replacing where you’d been.

The sight had you smiling for a split second before a rustle of the wind against the windows drew your frightened attention back to reality. Stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, there was a stalling moment where the walls seemed to close around you. Strangling. Suffocation. The fears of your past squeezing closer.

“No”, you chastise yourself in a whisper barely audible as you take a single sweeping step towards the sink, running the cold water to splash it on your face. “Enzo is dead. Stop freaking out, you’re being ridiculous!”. Yes, you were having a conversation with yourself, but only because it was a coping mechanism before you completely lost your mind and had a panic attack.

“Get a hold of yourself!”, you continue the monologue whilst staring at your distressed reflection in the mirror. “You’re safe here in your home”. For some reason, your bottom lip began quivering with the rising emotions and the overwhelming urge to cry. Giving your body a thorough head-to-body shake and angrily wiping away the traitorous tears dripping down your cheeks, you also gave yourself stern talking.

“Either you get yourself together, or you embarrass yourself and wake up Steve and Bucky”. You wouldn’t, not when it was something as irrational as being frightened that your definitely deceased deranged brother would somehow return from the dead to steal you to a life of misery. You couldn’t stomach waking them from their slumber to see the sad puppy eyes they would give you as they told you all the things you already knew. You were safe with them; they’d never let anything bad happen.

Filling your lungs with air, you blew out a long, slow breath until your lungs were completely empty. “Right. One search of the house and back to bed”, you decided, needing to check the surroundings with the hopes it would ease your battle with anxiety and insomnia.

Upon leaving the ensuite bathroom, you were thankfully greeted by the sound of two distinctively soft snores from both men still lying together in bed. Tip-toeing past them and into the hallway, you made sure to keep the lights off with your eyes having adjusted to the darkness as you approached Steve’s office.

There were a few things that you needed from this room. Firstly, to check the security camera feeds from his laptop, showing every angle possible surrounding the house and inside the many rooms of the luxury property. The baseball bat was also hiding beneath the desk. It was one of many weapons stashed throughout your home, carefully placed by both Bucky and his bodyguard Natasha and even though a gun would be a swifter finale for any intruder, there were still more consequences if you were to shoot the firearm accidentally and hit the wrong target whereas, with a bat, you could still keep someone at arm's length and also not fatally wound a friend if they came knocking at the door.

Clutching the smooth bat in both of your trembling hands, you watched the screen, flicking between rooms and areas of the exterior of your home, not spotting a single leaf out of place. In fact, the only emotion that seemed to bloom through your chest was adoration as you stared at the bedroom video feed, noticing that Bucky was now the bigger spoon, wrapped thoroughly around Steve, whose hands were stretched out to your side of the bed, like in his unconscious state, he was still searching for you.

Guilt settled heavily in your stomach at the sight, and closed the laptop with a sigh. You knew this paranoia would fade by the time tomorrow came around. Still, it was completely illogical for you to react rationally today, so with a sigh that echoed around the office, you stood and began to search the property physically.

Holding the bat at arm's length, you peeked around corners first then swung before stepping out. You'd been trained to use all the weapons scattered throughout the house with Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, even with how to strike with a baseball bat effectively.

Every shift of shadows out of the corner of your eyes and every creak of the house naturally settling or knocking with the raging winds outside had your heart racing and senses going into full alert.

One check of the house turned into four full sweeps to ensure no one was there. It was also a slow and thorough check, so by the time you were stepping carefully through the kitchen, glancing out of the back window and into the dark abyss that was your back garden. The creak of footsteps echoed from upstairs; you’d become lost and disorientated on the search, and you had neglected to check the time.

05:03 am.

A sniffle and quiet cough followed the footsteps of the man who had decided to wake earlier than most. In a rush of adrenaline and the need to not be found with a baseball bat in hand like a crazy lady in the dark, you decided to hide the weapon in one of the kitchen cupboards and quickly pretended to be preparing coffee as the sleepy steps wandered down the carpeted stairs.

Placing two cups onto the kitchen counter, you almost held your breath in anticipation for the morning grumbly welcome by whoever had woken first. Steve and Bucky both like to be awake early, much to your usual pleas for them to stay in bed.

However, as the man walked into the kitchen, not a single word was shared as he stepped up close behind you, enveloping your body in a warm and metal arm, wrapping tightly around your waist and pulling you backwards until flush against a naked chest. Stubbled cheeks nuzzled into your neck as lips gently kissed the sensitive skin as you sighed, eyes closing and all tension diminishing into the floor at the feeling of finally being safe.

The two of you swayed on the spot, wrapped in the tight embrace, listening to the water in the coffee pot. One of your hand gripped onto the metal fingers, feeling the smooth material beginning to warm and match the temperature of your skin. The other hand lifted to rest on the back of his head, scratching his buzzed hair, earning a comforting moan from Bucky as he kissed your jaw.

“It’s a rare day when you’re awake before me”, Bucky whispers into the shell of your ear before kissing it. Goosebumps lined your body with the gruff tone of his early morning voice. He didn’t pester you any more about why you were awake at this time, but he did pinch the hem of your shirt. “Is it your plan to always wear my shirts so I must be topless?”

His words pulled a giggle from your lips, shaking your head as you poured the coffee into each cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

The two of you sat at the dining room table, coffee in one hand and in the other you held onto one another, admiring the night turn into the day with dawn breaking over the fences that lined the back garden. It was blissful and a welcomed distraction from the terrors beneath your surface.

Steve eventually joined, groaning about waking up alone as he kissed you, then Bucky on the back of the head. “Who knew the big grown mafia boss could be so needy?” Bucky quipped with a teasing smirk over the rip of his cup before taking another glug of the coffee.

“That’s a lot of sass for someone who will be going without any breakfast if he keeps it up”, Steve grumbles as he looks through the refrigerator to start preparing the three of you breakfast like he did on most mornings. Before Bucky could respond, Steve asked curiously, “Why is there a baseball bat in with the plates?”

Your eyes downcast to stare into your empty cup, shrugging your shoulders at the burning stares of your boyfriends. “I don’t know. Anyway, who wants a fresh coffee?”

Thankfully, nothing more was mentioned regarding the random appearance of the baseball bat as the three of you ate and prepared to head into the office. You were thankful for the distraction working in the gang gave you, especially on a stressful day like today. Although the paranoia and anxiety that had kept you awake still bubbled away beneath the surface.

On the car journey to work, even squished between Steve and Bucky in the back seats, their hands eagerly resting on the naked skin of your thighs, having pushed the dress up to have the contact. Even your bodyguard and best friend Sam, who was driving the vehicle, couldn’t ease the panic that came from every car horn that blared, the dangerously speeding vehicles that passed or just the erratic driving that was expected with other idiots on the road.

Every single disruption had you anticipating that the car you were in would be hit or stopped, and your brother would then arrive and drag you away. Of course, this didn’t happen, and as you came to work, another heavy sigh released from your body as you walked through the extensive security to get to the office.

New shipments of discreetly stolen goods had arrived, which was a welcome distraction for you, checking the quality and organising where and to whom it would be sold. This only lasted for an hour before the coldness began to creep in, and you made excuses to return to Steve and Bucky back in the office.

“You know you can talk to us, right?” Bucky reminds you carefully whilst pulling your chair closer to his. You couldn’t meet his intense stare as you shifted your body under his awaiting arm so you were cuddled close to his side.

“Yep”, you respond casually, leaning into his warmth.

Bucky’s face lowered to your ear as he stroked his fingers down your arm. “And you also know you’re safe with me. With Steve. In this building or home. I’d do anything to keep you safe, Doll”.

You smile politely at him, trying to ignore the guilt that, for some reason, passed over you as you reached to take his hand that was draped over your shoulders. “I know”.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bbcky checking his phone for the 15th time in an hour. Not that you’d been counting.

Finally, he seemed to receive the notification he’d been waiting for as he suddenly sprung up from his seat, pulling his leather jacket swiftly.

A frown settled over your features as you sat forward, “where are you going?”

Bucky glanced towards Steve first before addressing your question. “I’ve just got some errands to run, nothing special. I won’t be long, Sweetheart”.

He was leaving you. On a day when you needed him most so that you felt safe, he for some reason had to go.

You stood abruptly, pushing back your chair and taking urgent steps towards him whilst nervously playing with your fingers. “You’re going to leave me on my own!”

“Who am I? The milkman?” Sam joked from where he was standing near the door, and you instantly regretted the words, having not meant them that way. What’s worse is that Steve muttered something under his breath from his desk and now you were riddled with more guilt as Bucky’s sad eyes turned to you, his hands resting heavily on your shoulders.

“I won’t be long, and maybe you’ll get a surprise later.” He tried to bring a smile to your lips, but it was worthless as you were caught between staring at Sam and Steve, trying to find the words to apologise. Bucky breathed heavily through his nose at seeing you distraught, but then his phone pinged again, so with one last kiss to your temple, he made his way to the exit.

Turning to Sam whilst awkwardly rubbing your cheek to ease the burning of embarrassment under your skin, you attempted to apologise, but Steve cut off your sentence. “I’m sorr-”.

“Baby, come here”.

Turning towards the comforting voice, you saw that Steve’s full attention was now on you. He’d moved his seat away from his desk and opened his arm, a clear sign for you to approach, which you did with rushed steps before climbing into his warm, sturdy lap. Your knees rested on either side of his thighs as your fingers caded through the curling blonde hair at the nape of his neck which you were quick to bury your face into, breathing in his calming cologne.

“I’m sorry about the comment; I didn’t mean it like that. I know I’m not alone. My head is just all over the place and-”.

“Shh, I know, baby, you don’t need to explain yourself. I know you’d rather us both be around for you today”. There it was. The one small mention and reference made by someone else that this was a day that you hated. It’s not that it needed to be spoken about as it had been clear that both of your boyfriends had been trying their hardest to be there for you today by being at your side as much as possible, constantly checking in with your emotions and making sure you ate and drank enough.

But Steve saying it out loud seemed to make it all the more real, so as you clung to him with more desperation, his arms did just the same until it felt as if there wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t currently being touched by his giant frame.

“I love you, Steve, so much”, you plead to him in a tired daze, finally feeling somewhat safe now that you were crowded into his body.

“I’d do anything for you, baby girl, you know that. I love you too. Try and get some sleep; it’ll make the day go faster”.

You wanted to and knew you could if you’d let your eyes drop close, but something still wasn’t sitting right like an itch that needed to be scratched.

“Could I please make one request… sir?” you say, nerves beginning to flicker through your chest at the intimacy of the request, already starting to switch into the role of the submissive mind, especially after the fragile state you’d been in all day.

Steve seemed to straighten his posture at using the name, and his lips kissed the top of your head a few times before he responded, “Anything”.

Lifting your head away from his neck and gazing into the endlessly intense blue eyes that always looked so kindly down at you, you asked, “Please can we touch everywhere? I just want to sit and be close”.

Steve tried not to smile at the innocence and the way you couldn’t even say the words, ‘Please can I cock warm you?’ which he knew was what you were asking. Reaching between your bodies, he began to undo his belt and zipper, “You know you don’t need to ask, Sweetheart. I want you to feel comfortable”.

You could never explain to someone why you loved the thought of cock warming so much. It seemed to settle both your nerves and put you into a relaxing state. Not at all times, though. Half the time, it would just turn you into a horny, wet mess that ended with you riding the cock until at least three orgasms. But other times, such as now, you just needed to be stretched and feel as close to Steve as possible.

Lifting higher onto your knees, you moved aside your underwear and lifted the front of your dress as you manoeuvred yourself to accommodate the toe-curling length that was Steve Rogers. Through your groaning sigh, you couldn’t hear Steve’s matching noise as he made sure you were comfortable with a steading arm around your hips before shuffling his seat closer to the desk and continuing with his work and talking to Sam about an email he’d just received.

You were asleep before hearing the end of the email being read out. Your head is resting on his shoulder, hands loosely holding onto the material of his crisp navy blue shirt. You were warm, full and safe.

Hours later, as the sun began to set and the day passed, you were still drowsy, much more relaxed than you had been in the morning. You’d wake up to Steve packing his belongings and Sam saying he’d warm the car for you and Steve.

As you gathered your disorientated thoughts and tried to sit up, you noticed that Steve was very much still thoroughly hard inside of your soaked cunt. Silently, you thanked whatever super serum had been injected into him during his time in the army. You clenched at the realisation, and Steve hummed in contentment at realising you were waking up.

“Let’s get you home. Bucky’s waiting there for us”, Steve informed quietly whilst cupping your cheek tenderly.

With the position you’d been sitting in, your legs were sore and tense, but Steve was more than happy to carry you down, even with his cock still inside. However, with the movements of his steps, it caused his length to ease in and out of your already sensitive cunt that by the time you’d made it to the car, you were clinging desperately to his shoulders as an orgasm rushed through you, pulsing between your legs.

Steve’s knees nearly buckled as he rested your frame against the side of the car, his face dropping to your neck as he breathed you in deeply. Your cunt continued to clench around his cock until he, too, joined you in euphoria with a deep grunt and a snap of his hips; warmth flooded your hole and began dripping out and onto the floor. Neither of you or his employees batted an eyelid as both of you came.

Once in the car, you were so distracted with cleaning each other up that the idiots in other vehicles that had panicked you on the way in, didn’t remotely phase you.

Wishing Sam a good night, you and Steve walked up to your front door, hand in hand. Steve opened the front door for you, letting you walk into the living room first, where you abruptly stopped, causing the blonde to nearly knock into you.

“I promise I tried to stop him, but he’s a feral little beast!” Bucky exclaimed from where he sat on the floor, surrounded by something that could only be described as chaos.

It seemed all of the decorative pillows had been utterly destroyed as the contents of the fluff covered all of the surfaces. Not only this, but there were half-eaten shoes, and the corners of the couches and coffee table seemed to have tiny bite marks gnawed into them.

“Bucky?! What did you do?” You couldn’t even comprehend where the mess began and ended as you looked at your dishevelled boyfriend sitting on the floor. Well, he was more lying down, reaching beneath one of the couches as he began to sit up and plastered a wide, toothy grin towards you.

“Surprise!” Bucky shouts with exhausted joy as Steve sighs with a shaky laugh from behind you.

“Surprise? What kind of a surprise is my home being destroyed?” you say, gobsmacked, staring longingly at your favourite cushions ripped to shreds.

As Bucky opened his mouth to explain, a tiny yap sounded from beneath the furniture where he’d just been reaching, and suddenly, a bundle of black fur was pounding for your ankles. It took you a second to drop to your knees and gasp, reaching for the puppy.

“Careful! His teeth are viscous”, Bucky warns, trying to reach forward to grab the animal, but you beat him to it and pull the pup into your lap.

“Oh my god, look at you! Aren’t you just the most beautiful little thing! Was it you that destroyed my lovely cushions? It was, wasn’t it? That’s okay. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you for everything. You're just so damn cute!” you couldn’t help but talk in a childishly high voice as you spoke to the adorable little puppy.

Thankfully, he didn’t bite you with his tiny sharp teeth and instead rolled onto his back on your legs, his paws resting in the air as he waited for a belly rub you happily gave him with carefully placed head kisses.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting a new guard dog! And what happened to the rule of not letting them into the house?” you asked Bucky as you continued to pet the pup.

Steve squatted down next to you, reaching to stroke the puppy behind his ears but then quickly retreating as the tiny sharp teeth nearly nipped his fingers. “He’s not going to be a guard dog; he’s going to be your dog”.

Your head spun with how fast you looked between your boyfriends as you screamed, “What?!”

“Yep! He’s all yours. He’s a Rottweiler and is eight weeks old. They’re known to be a protective breed and great guard dogs, so we will have him properly trained a couple of times a week for this, but we also want him to be yours”. As Bucky explained he knelt closer which earned the attention of your new puppy who watched him closely but continued to lick your fingers in between as you scratched the top of his head.

Steve rested a firm hand on your lower back as he continued, “We know how difficult today is, even with our reassurance that you are safe from Enzo”. Even just hearing his name, your whole body tightens and locks, almost forgetting to breathe until a certain puppy begins to wiggle and try and jump up your body to attempt to lick your face, having noticed the change in demeanour. “We wanted there to be someone around for you all the time, just with the chance that you could still feel safe if Bucky or I weren’t by your side. So, we are hoping this little rascal will be able to do this”, Steve says playfully, stroking along the puppy's back but quickly withdrawing when he nearly nipped again.

“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t even know where to begin with telling you how amazing this gift is”, you say brightly, glancing between the two men you loved most in the world.

“Don’t thank us; it’s the least we could do”, Steve mutters whilst leaning in to kiss your cheek and then standing up, beginning to grab handfuls of fluff from all the surfaces with an attempt at cleaning up the mess.

“I just want you to be happy”, Bucky whispers whilst kissing your other cheek, but then his gaze moves to the puppy, and a line forms between his brows as he frowns. “There will be some ground rules, though. No dog on the couch or in bed. We need boundaries”.

You nod your head in understanding but lean closer to whisper to the pup loud enough that Steve and Bucky could still hear. “Don’t listen to the grumpy old man. You can stay wherever you’d like!”

Bucky sighs whilst rolling his eyes and begins to help Steve with cleaning.

The three of you were sat in front of the TV watching a late-night film. The four of you were sitting on the couch as the puppy was resting in your lap, exhausted from all the playing you’d been doing and now resting as you tried to think of a name for the little guy.

“What about Winchester? That’s a good dog name, right?” you ask the boys, but mostly the dog, hoping he would react to one of the suggestions, but he hasn’t succeeded so far. You pondered some more whilst petting his little black ears. “Oh, what about Sargeant?! No… what about Rogers? No…”. You gave up trying to think of a name off the top of your head and began to scroll for suggestions online.

“Max? Brutus? Thor? Um, nope, these aren’t good. Chase? Ari? Bullet? Dodger? Bli-” Your suggestions stop as the puppy’s head tilts to look at you, seeming more awake. “What is it? Is it one of the names? Ari?” No response, “Bullet?” still no response. “Dodger?” his precious little tail began to wag as he yapped.

“Dodger? You like that name?” he barked again, attempting to climb higher up your body to lick your face as you laughed fondly.

“Dodger it is”, Steve announced from your side with a smile.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky #stucky #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #marvel smut #mafia au #mafia stucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky #mine*

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head. (3.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ A/N: Thank you to my numerous beta readers, including but not limited to @the-unforgivenn, @lofaewrites, @lokis-army-77, and @corroded-hellfire, and to @hellfire--cult for the divider. I am forever indebted to y'all.

chapter one: room for one more

It was always the quiet nights, wasn't it? The ones where the only sounds came from cars barreling down Queens Boulevard and splashing through puddles left by an earlier rainstorm, or from the clock ticking on the wall.

The ones where your mind wandered until you’d thought yourself in circles, overanalyzing every last decision you had ever made.

The ones where you allowed your guard just down enough that the slightest oddity threw you off-balance—something or someone out of place.

It was during the quiet nights like that night where you should have expected the unexpected, because New York City never stayed still for long.

The evening’s sluggishness was normal; tourism always slowed in the springtime. The newest shows on Broadway were already months old, not to mention the warmer weather brought both an uptick in crime and pollen count. If out-of-towners were going to schlep to the East Coast, they’d prefer to see the cherry blossoms hours south in Washington, DC than to get mugged on the 1 train.

Business picked up in the winter months when people flocked from around the world to witness the Thanksgiving Day Parade, the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, or Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, even though they were several bus and subway transfers away. Outsiders to the tri-state area struggled to differentiate between boroughs; it was unfortunate for them, but you counted on it to keep business alive.

The only guests who consistently frequented your family’s motel were junkies looking for a place to shoot up away from the NYPD’s watchful gaze or affair-havers who were considerate enough not to sully their marriage beds—just their vows. You were in no position to judge; their money was what kept the lights on, but it was impossible not to compare your clientele to the suits who stayed at the Marriott down the street. They wouldn‘t even allow homeless folks to sit within twenty-five feet of the building, let alone stay under their roof.

You leaned on the desk, wood grain pinching your elbows. You tapped your pencil against your textbook as you read, its margins cluttered with notes about different types of parent-child attachment styles.

Sleep prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the words on the page in front of you. Focus.

Secure attachment occurs when—no, you’d already read this line. Twice.

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath, gently slapping your cheeks in a futile attempt to stay awake. Taking a full course load instead of your usual part-time was your academic advisor’s ill-conceived idea, bolstered by the prospect of an earlier graduation. In your haste, you’d neglected to consider two important factors: all of your studying now had to be done during your night shifts, and graduating meant telling your parents a truth they were unready to hear.

They were so proud of the motel, regardless of its reputation. It might as well have been The Plaza from the way your dad boasted about it. The three of you shared an unspoken understanding that you worked the front desk because paying an actual employee would put them under. Maybe if finances weren’t so tight, you could have freely admitted that your future plans didn’t involve taking over the business.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your head rested on your book, a small puddle of drool pooling atop Bowlby’s theories.

Ping ping ping ping!

Time slowly stretched out before you, your conscious brain clawing its way out of its hazy fog. It took a beat for you to recognize that the incessant noise came from someone repeatedly smacking the tiny bell that sat on the desk.

“Hey, hello?” an impatient voice called out, jolting you from your impromptu nap. You blinked away the residual sleepiness and took in the sight in front of you: a curly-haired man, likely not much older than you were, a cigarette that had been nearly smoked down to the filter tucked between his lips. He had a patched guitar case strapped to his back and clutched a black garbage bag filled with what you hoped was clothing.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, wiping the moisture from your chin. “Need a room?”

“Mhm.” You could practically hear his eye roll: no, I just stopped by in the middle of the night for a quick chat. Fancy a cup of tea and a scone?

He plopped the garbage bag on the ground; its soft landing and the way it wrinkled told you that whatever was inside was, thankfully, not a body.

You nodded and turned around to the wall of keys behind you. There was no shortage of rooms; the only occupied one was being rented by Phyllis, a sixty-year-old self-described ‘entertainer of gentleman’ who paid double her bill in exchange for your silence.

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on the countertop, grinding it into the base for good measure. “How much per night?” he asked, digging into his pants pocket and pulling out a wallet held together with duct tape.

“Fifteen.”

The man breathed out, his bangs fanning over his forehead. “Jesus.” He fished two twenties and a five from the billfold and placed them in front of you. “This should cover me until Friday, yeah?”

Nodding, you folded the bills and tucked them into the register kept under the desk, only accessible by key because of a series of break-ins during the late ‘70s.

The man lit another cigarette as you pulled out the ledger and a pen. “Name and date here,” you said, pointing to the ‘check in’ column. He took a drag before scrawling his name on the line: Eddie Munson, 5-4-93.

“All right, you’ll be in…” you scanned the assortment of keys dangling from their hooks. The walls were thin, and this guy seemed decent enough, so you decided to spare him the theatrical sound effects of Phyllis’s room 10 endeavors. “…room 4. Make a right down the hallway, and it’ll be the second door. Can’t miss it if you try.”

Your attempt at humor fell flat, both of you too exhausted to laugh. You strode past it, clearing your throat as if dispelling the tension. When you placed the key in his calloused palm, you couldn’t help but notice that the base of each fingertip is a half-shade paler than the rest of his skin.

“Thanks.” Eddie mumbled. He tapped the cigarette above the ashtray, the gray flakes falling into a neat pile. His right bicep flexed underneath his denim jacket as he heaved the garbage bag over his shoulder, careful not to bang it against the guitar.

He scuttled out of the tiny room masquerading as a lobby, shoulders hunched from the weight of the bag and of the burdens he inevitably carried. No one shows up to a motel in the middle of the night without a story or two.

After years of greeting guests at the front desk, you liked to think you had a decent read on them. Eddie was quiet, maybe even introspective, but not necessarily shy. He was tired; no, more than that: he was worn down, like so many other people who had come through these doors.

Most importantly, Eddie didn’t seem like he'd be much trouble. He didn’t stumble in wasted and reeking of booze or fidgeting as he awaited a fix. He wasn’t shouting or poorly concealing a wandering eye or making lewd comments. He’d made pretty much no impression at all besides being a bit gruff, which was just fine with you. Your personality wasn't composed of rainbows and sunshine at this hour either.

You looked at the clock and sighed when it only read 2:17. It’s already tomorrow, you thought grimly. Just under four hours until you could walk ten feet to your room, curl up in your bed, and sleep until it was time for your afternoon class. After years of balancing school and work, you were in the last two weeks of your final semester, and then…what? You casually inform your parents that you were leaving the family business–essentially forcing them to close it–to pursue a career in social work?

That was sure to go over well.

To their knowledge, you were studying hotel management and hospitality in order to “improve the business.” That was why they’d relented when you’d asked to start taking classes, switching you over to the night shift to avoid having to hire a new employee.

What they didn’t know is that your school didn’t even offer that as a major. Nor were they aware of the acceptance letter into NYU’s Masters of Social Work program that was stashed inside your dresser drawer, hidden from sight. That was a conversation for another day when you found the strength to face their disappointment.

Chaos waited to strike until the end of your shift.

Just as you packed your book back into your bag, a familiar, skunky odor wafted past your nostrils.

Ignore it, you thought. Let it be Dad’s problem when he takes over in five minutes. But if you could smell it, so could any of the cops patrolling the boulevard. One more citation and the motel was in jeopardy of being permanently shut down, and you couldn’t take that risk.

With a frustrated sigh, you yanked open the desk drawer and reached in for a pen, instead pulling out an unopened box of crayons. A twenty-four pack of Crayola—the good kind. You plucked a waxy cornflower blue from its spot and scribbled Be back soon on a Post-It note, sticking it on the front of the desk. Grabbing the pepper spray canister from its spot next to the register, just in case, you started down the hall. Marijuana wasn’t Phyllis’s drug of choice, though it might have been one of her various gentleman suitors’, but the scent was too strong to be coming all the way from room 10.

Maybe this Eddie Munson was trouble, afterall.

You knocked on his door, firmly but without aggression. It certainly wasn’t the first time you interrupted someone’s buzz, and it wouldn’t be the last. You knew better than to go in guns a-blazing; it’s easier to catch flies with sugar than vinegar.

Eddie opened it after a moment, cracking it halfway and revealing a lit joint pinched between his plush lips. One forearm was perched on the doorframe, showing off faded ink of a litter of flying bats and a dragon-esque creature. He was clad in only navy blue boxer briefs, but his lack of attire was no surprise. Many guests were shameless, not bothering to cover the holes in their Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities and showcasing faded yellow stains on the crotch. What confused you was the elastic waistband proudly proclaiming ‘Calvin Klein’ that cut off the soft hair trailing from his belly button. It seemed absurd that he would have been lugging around any designer clothes in that trash bag, but there was no other possibility.

“Can I help you?” he asked, shaking his curly bangs out of his face. Half-lidded brown eyes scanned your form, trying to determine whether you were a narc or trying to bum some bud off of him. His window was cracked open enough to let in fresh air, which also meant that the acrid smell could easily be let out.

“You can’t smoke that here,” you reported matter-of-factly, just as you had a million times before. When he cocked a challenging brow, you continued. “Cigarettes are fine, but no weed. The police will come after us and you.”

He looked around the room, unbothered, and absentmindedly scratched at his bare chest. A demon’s head was sketched just above a sparse patch of hair. Under different circumstances, or maybe in another life altogether, you would’ve asked him about his tattoos; if they had some philosophical meaning or were the products of spur-of-the-moment decisions. You could have blathered on about the ideas you had for your own future tattoos, if you ever worked up the nerve to actually get one.

“You mean to tell me that with all of the skeevy shit that goes on around here, the cops are gonna waste their time on a little pot?” He scoffed and took another defiant pull, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling away from you.

I guess chivalry isn’t dead, you mused, stifling an eye roll. “No, but they’re always looking for an excuse to ‘investigate,’’' you threw air-quotes around the last word, “so they can bust us for more serious things, and that is the perfect one.” You gestured to the joint only to be met with an eye roll. “Look, you can either put it out, smoke it somewhere else, or you can leave. Full refund, but you can’t stay here.”

His stare locked onto your steely eyes and clenched jaw, only breaking when you’d straightened your posture to stand your ground. “Whatever,” he huffed, but he snuffed it out. A glimmer of a smile danced on his lips, disappearing nearly as quickly as it arrived. Despite its fleeting nature, it managed to thaw you enough so that your arms weren’t held quite so tight to your body, your expression less rigid. “Just trying to relax and get some sleep, like you were while you were supposed to be ‘working.’” It’s his turn to supply the air-quotes, both in mockery and as a gotcha. A teasing lilt elevated his voice, smoothing out the edge he’d greeted you with earlier.

“I wasn’t sleeping, just…resting my eyes,” you volleyed back, your smirk betraying any semblance of the tough façade you’d worn.

Eddie crossed his arms and walked over to the garbage bag of clothes. He rummaged through it for a moment before procuring a pair of gray sweatpants, stepping into them hurriedly as though he just remembered his minimal attire.

“Maybe if you chose more interesting reading material, you wouldn’t be sl—resting your eyes on the job,” he amended, gesturing to the textbook in your canvas tote bag. “Ever heard of Stephen King?”

“I live in a motel, not under a rock.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You live here?”

Shit. That wasn’t information you regularly divulged. Sure, this guy seemed harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Prime example: wearing designer underwear while using a trash bag in lieu of a suitcase.

It was too late to double back, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. The sole of your sneaker dug into the old carpet.

Eddie looked like he wanted to say more, lips parted and eyes wide like there was a follow-up question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Before he could ask it, your gaze landed on the clock radio: six AM on the dot.

“I need to go,” you said hurriedly. Shame at your sudden shyness burned a hole in your belly. Eddie Munson was a guest; for all intents and purposes, he was a total stranger. There was no reason to be intimidated by him. “Good luck falling asleep,” you added with a weak smile.

The easy banter that had been building between you dissipated in an instant, taking his good mood with it. His goodbye was a sardonic salute, the mattress springs creaking wearily as soon as you closed the door behind you.

Sure enough, your dad was in the tiny lobby, assessing some peeling wallpaper. “Gotta fix that,” he mumbled to himself, thumbnail picking at it aimlessly. He turned around when he heard the door open and smiled when he saw you.

“Sorry, I was helping out a guest,” you rushed to explain, hoping he wasn't too anxious to find the desk left unattended.

The wrinkles in your dad’s forehead became more pronounced. “Is everything alright?” The phrase ‘helping out a guest’ could range from unclogging a toilet to calling the police for a domestic dispute.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reassured him quickly, flashing an exaggerated thumbs-up. “No law enforcement necessary. Didn’t even need to use the pepper spray.” You waved the canister in your palm before placing it back.

He beamed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your scalp. “It’s times like this where I just know I’ll be leaving this place in good hands.”

You swallowed the bile that crept up your throat and feigned a smile when he pulled you in for a tight hug. The mingled scents of Irish Spring soap and drugstore aftershave tickled your nose, and tears stung along your lash line.

If only you knew, you thought, giving him one last squeeze before you headed to your room. Disappointed wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

Your parents would never say the word aloud; they’d look at each other and heave identical weighted sighs. Their lifelong goal of a long-standing family business would vanish in the blink of an eye. Dad would pretend there was a chance that they could afford a new hire, even going so far as to fumble through the years of financial statements before inevitably throwing in the towel; Mom would force a pained smile and hoarsely encourage you to follow your dreams, even at the expense of theirs.

You shook the thought away as you trudged towards your room, sneakered feet like sandbags below you. Dwelling on this scenario had you teetering on the brink of insanity, so you’d willed yourself to focus on something else. Anything else.

Like the motel’s newest guest and his smile. The way it softened the hard lines on his face, offering you a glimpse of how he wore happiness. Something about it made you want to see him happy again.

You can’t even figure out how to make yourself happy, you thought, peeling back the starchy sheets and finally crawling into bed, much less a stranger. For all you knew, he was just relaxed because his high was starting to kick in, and not from some warming presence you’d supplied.

The sun cracked pink through the sky, visible through the paper-thin curtains hanging on the window. You had become accustomed to this backwards routine, able to fall asleep while daylight broke. It took a few extra moments this time; you were anticipating marijuana-tinged fumes to float through the vents when Eddie ignored your instructions.

It was that flicker of a smile that had you almost certain he would spark up once you’d left. The smile of someone who so naturally flouted authority that he no longer bragged about it. Yet time ticked by without a hint of evidence that he was smoking again.

Which begged the question: if the smile didn’t signify defiance, what did it mean?

Eddie Munson is definitely trouble, you surmised just before you drifted off, but nothing you can’t handle.

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xiakato · 3 months

Text

GISELLE- The Bitch In The Red Dress (M)

A/n: I've been playing too much resident evil lately

September 1998, you'll never forget it. The grizzly murders in the Arkley Mountains to the zombie outbreak in Raccoon city, her. She strung you along with little to no effort. Her beauty was something else, something not of this world. You and her got along per se, a kiss to stop your overthinking while you were in the thick of it. The hive was when everything went south. Her lies came out in the open due to the person you have been chasing with her. The explosions destroy the bridge and they are desperate to hold her from falling. The slipping of her hand from yours. The sinking heart as you watch her fall with the metal bridge. You had to get out, the city was forfeit.

Years later

You got hit by an assignment, the president's daughter was kidnapped by a cult in Spain's countryside. Ever since Raccoon city, you've tried to get away from the fight with the B.O.Ws that Umbrella left behind and the ones that are hidden away from greedy eyes. The cult leader, Saddler, is an extremist. Possibly due to the influence of the plaga or perhaps he always had these ideals and beliefs and the discovery of the plaga allowed him to act on it. The countless lives of the villagers, those part of the cult and those who were experimented on were lost. You fought through the village, Castle De Salazar, the place where you ran into her, The one that stole your heart amidst chaos. The red dress is reminiscent of the one she wore all those years ago. The knife shines in the moonlight as it is pressed against her neck, her porcelain skin reflecting in the polished finish.

“Use knives next time, they’re better for close encounters,” You take the handgun from her hand tossing it to the side sheathing your knife.

“Y/n,” You look at the woman as she takes off her sunglasses, you thought she was dead.

“What are you doing here Giselle?” You ask her, keeping your feelings in check. You’re on a mission, you have to be on guard at all times.

“Don’t worry about it, handsome,” She walks towards the window, “So cold to me after all these years apart.”

“After your lies, you’re lucky I don’t shoot you here and now,” You stare at her, fighting the urge to soak in her moon kissed beauty.

“Oh honey, I didn’t mean to lie to you, we both had a job to do that day,” You shake your head at her as she smirks,” Well see you around handsome,” She tosses her glasses causing a flash bang to go off blinding you as she takes off out of the window. You stare out of the window she left from,shaking your head leaving to the maze below. The castle was something else, the castellan was an interesting character to say the least. Ningning got taken to an island off the coast. Chasing after the man that took her, he’s quick perhaps beyond human limits. Getting to the dock, seeing a boat with a woman inside. She looks at you, “Need a ride handsome?”

The rough waters did little to deter you from looking at her, her hair neatly done despite the situation. You shake your head, getting rid of the excess thoughts. “Why Giselle?”

“All these years and that’s all you can ask Y/n?” She quirks an eyebrow, “You disappoint me.”

“I have something to ask you, but I won’t get a straight answer,” She chuckles as you sigh,”Raccoon City, after the incident. You try to save one, a hundred more die. The world changed and so have I. So the question is have you changed Giselle? or are you just trying to use me again?”

“You? Changed? You only think you have, what do you think? Do you think I’ve changed?” She looks over as she pulls the boat over to the side off the cliff aiming her grapple gun, “Don’t think too hard, handsome,” She takes off rocking the boat, you react quickly, steadying the boat before leaning back in the chair and sighing.

“Story of my life.”

The island was just as you expected to be, until you ran into him, Krauser. The man that trained you, the sparks from the knives slashing against each other. He knocks you onto your back diving his knife for your neck, a gunshot rings out making Krauser jump back and look over where it came from.

“Well if it isn’t The Bitch In The Red Dress,” He smirks as she starts firing down at them, with his enhancements, he can run faster than humanly possible. Dodging the bullets and jumping towards her, she grapples out of the way with him still chasing.

“What the fuck is happening here?”

The island of horrors, abdominations, fucking lasers, a comfy throne. You are pretty sure you’ve seen it all on this island alone. Finding Ningning again, you managed to find a machine that can get rid of your plaga after Giselle saved your ass again. Sending electric currents into a certain spot at a single spot, for one fucking hurt, and two killed the plaga so You are free from the plagas control and Saddler has another thing coming. Rushing outside to see Giselle tied by her wrists hanging in the ai.

“Y/n isn’t that?” Ning asks, as you nod.

“Stay here,” You tell her as you get into the elevator heading up, meeting Saddler as you ignore him tossing your knife cutting down Giselle. His form changed into a spider-like form with eyeballs on his legs. The fight felt like it took forever, Until you spot Giselle running over, “Y/n use this~” She yells out tossing a RPG towards you, you rush picking it up. Shooting it at Saddler as he recoils from the blast, his body sizzles away, you spot the vial, you grab it as you feel a gun press against your head.

“Hand it over,” Giselle says as you hand it behind you, she takes as she runs off the side getting an helicopter, “The island is set to blow,” She tosses a key ring, “Better hurry up Prince Charming.”

The helicopter takes off as you run back to the elevator, grabbing Ning by the hand, “We have to go,” You rush towards the underground water way, seeing a jet ski waiting for you, you hop on with her and speed away dodging the falling rocks, you get out of the waterway with Ning holding on tightly.

“Wow that was close,” She says resting her head on your back, “So um.. what do you think about some over time?”

“I’m good,” You chuckle, “I have some one else in my mind.”

“Is it her?” She asks and you merely nod as you drive off, “I figured,” She mutters leaning her head down on your shoulder.

You get a nice vacation after getting the president's daughter back to the states. You take in a breath of fresh air standing in front of your house, getting to the front door, you notice it's slightly opened. Immediately drawing your 9mm, turning the safety off you make your way through the living room. Clearing every room in the bottom floor before moving up. Clearing rooms up to yours. Opening the door, your laser lands in the middle of the forehead of the intruder.

"Oh my, what a welcome," she's says as she crosses her legs in her trademarked red dress.

"What are you doing here Giselle?" you ask her holstering your gun, sighing.

"just thought I'll see you again," her eyes trailing your body in suit. "You look good like you always do, perhaps the president's daughter flirting with you did you some good."

“Don’t even talk about that,” You place your gun onto the dresser by the wall before looking back at her as she stands walking over to you, her hands trailing down your shirt undoing button by button. She pulls off your shirt and suit jacket in one swoop. She kisses your scars soflty, her eyes lock onto the gunshot on your shoulder.

“I remember when this happen,” Her fingers softly glazes over the gunshot, “I was scared to be honest.”

“Even though you say that, were you really?” You question her as you feel her fingers quiver against your skin

“I’m telling the truth for once, Y/n. I didn’t want to lose you even though I only just met you a few hours prior,” She kisses the scar, her kisses trail down your body as she gets to her knees undoing your belt. Pulling your cock out, she smiles licking her lips, “I missed this,” She pushes you towards the bed, taking off your boxers and slacks. She strokes your cock slowly as she spits on it, “I feel you throbbing already~” She kisses up your shaft, “Already needy for Mommy?” She takes your tip into her mouth, you feel her tongue swirl around it sending shivers throughout your body.She pushes herself deeper as your cock reaches her throat.

“Fuck,” You mutter as your hand reaches the back of her head pushing your cock deeper. She pulls back, her saliva cascades down onto your cock as she strokes it faster and faster, her other hand caressing your body, her hand going over your abs and scars as she sucks your cock.She pulls your cock out with a pop as she stands up, dropping her red dress onto the floor, her naked poreclain body on perfect display for you as she straddles you, her thighs covered in her juices as she slides your cock into her, hearing her breath hitch as you feel her up. Your arms wrap around her waist, as she starts to ride you. Her ass bouncing on your cock, her tightness squeezing every inch of you. She wraps her arms around your neck as she rides your cock faster and faster.

“Fuck me babyboy, Use me fucking use me baby,” She pleads with you as you thrust upwards, hitting her womb as you ravage her, her moans fill your ears. You hear nothing else other than her, she is in every one of your senses. Her juices dripping down your balls creating a puddle on the bed, “Give me that dick baby,” She moans out as her hands grip onto your hair as her hips meet your thrusts. You feel her walls tighten around you as she cums over your cock, her body shaking as you don’t stop chasing your own orgasm, “Fucking cum in me, fill me the fuck up with your cum babyboy,” She urges you as you feel it coming you fuck her faster and faster and you feel the first shot, you push yourself as deep as you could. You see her bright smile as she feels you fill her up, “So so much~” She giggles as she sits up, your cock still in her, “You filled up Mommy so well,” She moves her hips slowly, milking the rest out of you, “Surely you have more for me~?”

#Aespa #giselle #kpop smut #Kpop #male reader

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