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foxgloveprincess · 3 months

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Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader, Lance Tucker x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Summary: After your night with Ransom, you’re moving on—really.

Word Count: 2,818

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: UnBeta’d, Dark, Stalking, Fear/Paranoia, Unreliable Narrator, Yandere Vibes, BDSM (Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Rope Bondage, Suspension, Aftercare), brief Smut (Vaginal Penetration, Unsatisfying), Pet Names (baby, pidge, etc). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Here’s some more Ransom, being patient as he can be. Let me know what you think!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. However, I give no permission to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work on any third party website or app. Seeing my work posted anywhere beside my blog, my library blog, or my AO3 account (FoxglovePrincess) means it’s been stolen/plagiarized.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

Breathe. In. Out. Your body relaxes into the cradle of ropes. You catch a glimpse of Chase, his smile shining for his audience. You keep your thoughts on him, too scared to let them drift.

Though, another eye catches yours from the crowd. Your lips twitch and your teeth worry over them. Hunger, deep and dark, glinting. Pride radiating in waves. The eyes of a man who looks at you as though you’re a pristinely polished trophy. And you’re happy to be that for Lance Tucker. Just for him. God, what you’d let that man do to you. Never imagining the man who might do it better—never.

You try to blink away thoughts of that rich asshole and let your eyes drift closed. A hand binding your wrists, around your throat. That smug smirk of his as he took you apart piece by piece.

No. There’s no room for Ransom. He didn’t write you a check, but a week later you’d gotten a direct deposit—more than he’d promised. And you hadn’t heard from him since. Good riddance.

You find Lance in the crowd again and let his proud smile satisfy you. You don’t need some pompous, entitled, egotistical brat hanging around being a creep. You’re glad Ransom got you out of his system. Really. You are.

You breathe a moment, centering yourself back in the present. There’s no need to think about Ransom Drysdale. None at all.

“Are you alright?” Chase asks in a quiet tone. His hand reaches out to steady you, grounding you to the conversation with him.

“I’m fine,” you reply before assessing the state of your body. “But a little sore? Maybe? I think I might need to come down soonish.”

“Alright,” Chase says. He turns back to the crowd announcing the end of his presentation, explaining the aftercare and begins to lower the rig.

Your belly finds the mats, hands still wrapped behind your back. You turn your head and rest it on the cushion while you wait. Chase approaches and kneels by your waist.

A laugh huffs from your chest when you look up at him. “I could have stayed up longer.”

Chase quirks a brow. “I’m sure you could have. But I didn’t think you should.”

You make an accepting sound in your throat and let him do his work. A minute passes before your limbs are all free. Chase wraps the rope from his palm to his elbow, winding it to put away.

Slowly, you begin to move. First legs, stretching into the air and bending, then arms. When you finally push up from the mat, Chase stands ready to help guide you back to your room.

“You did good today,” you remark as you both walk down the hallway. “They were eating up every word. Saw a bunch heading toward your photography table.” He smiles at you. “I think they really like the pose, too.”

The door opens to your room and you find your futon. Chase hands you your snack and drink.

“What do you think about going vertical next week?” he asks, brushing his fingers over your forehead while you lay comfortably on your bed.

“As long as I’m not upside down,” you reply with closed eyes and a yawn.

“I’ll let Lance know you’re ready for him.” Chase leaves you drifting off to sleep to get your boyfriend—the newest addition to your aftercare routine.

The door opens and you feel the tender touch of Lance’s hand. He leans down to kiss your lips.

“Hey, baby,” you murmur, half asleep. But when you turn over and open your eyes, no one’s there. You sit up and glance around.

The door sits in its frame, shut and undisturbed, just like the rest of your room. Must have been your imagination, but you could’ve sworn…

The door opens and Lance struts in. You catch his eye and his smile beams.

“God, you were fantastic!” he enthuses. Taking his hands from his track pants pockets, he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. They taste of cherry chapstick, how could you have forgotten that—the lips that kissed yours before him didn’t.

“You waiting up for me?”

You nod without a word, unsure as to what to say. Part of you wants to mention that moment before he came in. But why would he want to hear about your dream? Instead, you pull back your blanket, inviting him to warm you up.

“As soon as we get back to your place, I’ll get your epsom salt bath going,” he starts, liking the sound of his own voice as much as you do. It grounds you, especially after a strange encounter with a figment of your imagination. “Gotta make sure you aren’t sore in the morning. Then we can get you in your…”

He keeps talking and it lulls you to sleep. Knowing that when you wake up, he’ll take you back to your place and sleep over. And everything will go like it always does.

Which is why you’re unsurprised when Saturday morning dawns and Lance has slotted himself between your thighs.

His hips curve into yours, his cock stretching you wide. Your fingers dig into his spine, clutching him close. Moans spill from your lips. His heavy breaths brush across your cheeks. Sweat beads on his brow as he readjusts you, stretching one of your legs closer to your chest while keeping the other wrapped around his hips.

Your lips press together. It all feels good—always has. Even when you were finding your groove together, with his athleticism and your need for intimacy.

He makes noises of pleasure. His hips accelerating in a signal of his imminent release. Your eyes close, focusing on your own. Lance’s hips stutter. He paints your insides with his cum and sighs.

A sunny smile spreads his lips. How his hair remains coiffed after all the sweat and exertion, you don’t know, but it’s endearing. A quirk you quite adore.

He flops to the side, running his hand along his abdomen, tickling the tattoo of the gold ribbon he has leading down his pelvis. Another uniquely Lance thing. So proud of his accomplishments, and you don’t blame him. He’s incredible.

But your pulse thrums with the dissipating arousal of your unsatisfied lust. Your arms reach over your head, stretching sore muscles. Without meaning to, you let your mind wander. How Ransom made you sore in the best way. How he fit inside you. How he made you cum until you ached for nothing but pleasure.

Your boyfriend’s hand reaches over, smoothing over your tummy and flicking at one of your nipples.

“Where’re you going?” he asks.

You look over and smile. Eyes trace over his pouty lips and bright blue eyes. You tilt your head and brush your lips to his.

“I’m right here,” you reply.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?” Harlan asks. He leans back in his chair and you lift your head from your research.

“The toxicology of plant-based poisons,” you reply, immersed in your work. Though, you know it won’t satisfy your boss.

He says nothing more for a moment. Letting you turn your full attention back to the research at hand. He probably didn’t need much help in the subject with how long he’s been writing murder mysteries. Still, he always likes to be accurate. As few creative liberties as possible—at least where it counts.

“Alright,” he says with as little enthusiasm as he can bestow on such an acceptance. “You will tell me eventually, mind.”

“Will I?” you mumble distractedly.

“You’re not a very good liar.”

You snort and turn the page, picking up a highlighter and sticky note to jot down a thought on a passage about cyanide.

“It isn’t something Walt did, is it?” he prods, the weight of his observant gaze heavy on your shoulders.

“No, Harlan,” you reply, recapping the pen in your hand.

“What about Ransom? He gave you some trouble a little while ago.”

You swallow and push aside the embarrassment and panic that spikes through you, replying, “No, Harlan.”

“Huh,” he says.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” you ask with a huff of mild frustration.

“I’m quite stuck on what should happen next,” he says with a flick to the corner of the page.

“Right,” you drone with the skeptical quirk of your eyebrow sent in his direction.

He smiles that enigmatic smile of his and reaches up a hand to cup his chin. “You know I’m just concerned.”

With a sigh, you give up on your work. Your boss won’t let you focus on it anyway. Folding your arms over your chest, you lean back and contemplate how best to word your explanation. One tiny slip and the jig is up. How could you possibly tell him his grandson paid to fuck you better than anyone ever has?

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you admit, pursing your lips around the word. “Don’t need to tell you all the gory details, though.”

“That’s the best part of a story,” he refutes with a twinkle in his eye. His full attention remains on you, waiting for the final crack before the flood.

“Let’s just say,” you pause for the right wording. “My boyfriend is amazing, but doesn’t always…” You trail off with a hand gesture to imply the rest.

“You mean in the boudoir?” Harlan twines his fingers and tilts his head in interest.

You snort and nod. “Yeah.” You lean back in your chair until your eyes meet the ceiling. “Got me thinking about the last prick. He was an asshole, but he...” You trail off, uncertain as to how you might finish the thought.

Harlan looks at you a long while. When your head turns to meet his gaze, he says, “May I offer advice in the form of an old adage?”

You sit upright and nod. “Lay it on me.” Complete with a grabbing motion of your hands.

“Comparison is the thief of joy.”

It sits in the air, letting you soak it in. Harlan returns to his manuscript in silence. Yet you’re stuck on the words. He’s right. Ransom is your past—a blip, if anything—and Lance is your future—a real, solid one at that.

You turn back to your research with determination. Refusing to let Ransom occupy a second more of your thoughts. You start back on your note about cyanide.

“I know that’s not all, by the by,” your boss intones right as your pen meets paper. “But it’s enough for now.”

You swallow and glance over your shoulder to him. “Thanks.”

Harlan nods with a hum and places his glasses on his nose.

The sounds of the typewriter fill the empty space of the room and the two of you continue your work. You lose yourself to the facts and let the hours tick by. Thoughts wavering on your future.

“Seriously, this tastes like shit.”

You hear his voice before you see him. Your heart drops to your stomach. All you can think is ‘Oh, God, no.’ Your feet find the final step and you freeze. Unsure of the best course of action.

You might be able to completely skirt by unnoticed through the front door. Or the back patio. As long as Ransom stays in the kitchen.

It was coming back inside that posed the problem. Harlan sending you on an errand to the local public library to pick up a book he placed on hold. If Ransom were still here, how could you avoid him without knowing his position in the mansion?

“It’s a good thing I didn’t make it for you, Hugh,” Fran replies.

You blink out of your momentary panic. As if Ransom ever stayed so long with his grandfather. He’d be long gone by the time you got back. You scurry out the door, closing it with the softest click.

The breeze bites through the air. It stings your face with its crisp coolness. You wrap your scarf tighter around your neck and bundle your hands deeper into your sleeves. On the threshold of winter, you dread the thought of the first snow.

You wait a moment for your car to warm before driving down the road to town. Thoughts mull in your mind, but music tunes them out. The radio already blasting holiday songs on repeat, prompting another train of thought to occupy you. Your first holiday not alone. Gifts for Lance. Holiday plans and the small, hopeful feeling warm in your chest.

You find a parking spot at the library and exit your car. The cold wind bustles you inside and you walk to the front counter. Used to your face, the librarians move quickly to check-out Harlan’s book to you. You smile and thank them, and then you’re on your way back, with little time to get your head on straight when thoughts of Ransom resurface.

Parking the car, you linger a moment in the quickly dissipating heat. The car door slams behind you. A few quick strides take you back up the steps and into the house. You shiver as you undress your outerwear, hanging each piece up on your hook—coat, hat, scarf, mittens.

You pause to listen. Straining to see if you can hear Ransom’s voice anywhere in the house. Knowing how much he likes to hear himself speak. Nothing. A sigh of relief blows past your lips.

The stairs creak on your ascent. Marta greets you on her way down, a furrow between her brow. You almost ask her about it, but she slips away in a quick descent.

You make it to the second landing and stop. He’s standing right there. Staring at a painting on the wall—one you’d admired before, reminiscent of Artemisia Gentileschi. One you pass multiple times a day on your way up to Harlan’s study. One of your favorite pieces in the house, really.

Wishing to turn invisible just for a moment, you clutch the book close to your chest and close your eyes. With determination, you open them and march past Ransom, ignoring his presence. Yet, in your periphery, his head turns.

“Oh,” he says—is there a tinge of affection in his tone? He cocks his head to the side and takes a long perusal of your body. His eyes narrow. “Where have you been?” Any question of tenderness vanishes with the question. Replaced by his usual derision.

You hold up the book in explanation. He squints at the cover and his lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. He seems to think better of a comment and looks back to the painting.

“If you’ll excuse me then, Mr. Drysdale.”

His jaw ticks in irritation. Eyes flashing toward you, he grits, “Call me Ransom, pidge.”

You step sideways toward the stairs up to Harlan’s personal study. “Right,” you mutter under your breath. “I just thought—” You shake your head. A buzz in your pocket catches your attention. You pull the screen halfway out to check. The preview of a text from Lance shines up at you. Your lips twitch toward a smile as you tuck it away. “Nevermind.” You make it up two steps before you hear his voice again.

“Is Lance treating you right?”

You might have thought the question just a figment of your imagination—prone as you are to those. But turning around, he watches you curiously. Your lips part, stunned.

“How did you know about him?” you ask with a glance over your shoulder to the upstairs door, drawn but not closed. Praying that Harlan won’t be privy to this unexpected conversation.

“Friend of a friend,” Ransom replies with a shrug. But his eyes do not leave yours. It unsettles you, the steadiness of his focus.

You swallow down your unease. “Why do you care?” you prod. Your face scrunches in an expression of dubiousness.

Ransom blinks and looks away to the painting again. “I don’t.” The words rasp between his teeth.

“Right,” you mutter under your breath. “Well, Ransom.” Your fingers tap on the book cover. “I, uh, hope you have a nice rest of your day.”

You retreat up the rest of the stairs and enter Harlan’s study. With a great huff of air releasing your nerves and pent-up frustration, you glance at your boss. A curious expression adorns his features. Your stomach flips, but you ignore it and hand over his book, ready to get back to work. You’re sure he’ll ask his questions later.

As for you, you’ve got some answered. Like the fantasy of whether Ransom would really be such a horrible option. The answer is yes. No matter how well he fucked you or how he sent you reeling in your throes of passion, he is not the man for you. Of that, you’re now absolutely certain.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #dark #dark fic #lance tucker fanfic #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x reader #smut #yandere vibes #tw stalking #stalking #18+#minors dni

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022, Day 15: Objectification

God of Olympics

Summary: Lance just wants you to know your place, because you are his.

Pairings: Lance Tucker X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, degradation, slapping, showing you off to an audience, glory hole, gang bang, rough sex, creampie, a bit of a praise kink, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.4K

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Lance slaps his hand over your tit, making you yelp out, but his smug face just smiles at you. Stalking around your body, he gives your ass a slap, and leans tight into your body, “Get on your knees.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond quickly. Blinking at your guests, as you get to your knees.

“Hands behind your head, and keep your legs spread.”

“Yes, sir,” placing your hands behind your head, Lance walks back in front of you, and starts ripping at your clothing, pushing aside your shirt until your tits are exposed to everyone in the room, and a few of the men adjust their pants. Looking at you like they were going to devour you, but you have behave. He was counting on you.

Squatting down, he rips off your panties, leaving the majority of your body for their viewing pleasure. Lance gives your face a few smacks, before grabbing at your cheeks and lifting your head to look at him. “What are you?”

“A worthless cumdump,” you whimper as his finger rubs along your puffy lips.

“Whose worthless cumdump are you?”

“Yours, sir.”

He slides two fingers past your lips, and runs the appendage over your flattened tongue. As he slides out, you suck on them gently. Your eyes shining up at him. The next push through, he goes all the way to the back of your throat, causing you to gag. The movement of your body, makes your weeping cunt even more visible to the men, and Tyler Rake leans forward to get a closer look, getting his arm slapped by Jax. Marshall just grunts out his approval.

“Whose whore mouth is this?”

“Yours, sir.”

He wipes his fingers soaked in your saliva on your face, because slapping at your tits again. Moving back and forth between your nipples, before he gazes down at you, “Whose tits are these?”

“Yours, sir.”

Traveling down your body, he slaps at your folds, until you squeal out in pleasure. “And whose pretty hole is this?”

“Yours, sir.”

“And I can do whatever it is that I want with it?” You nod your up at him, and he pushes his fingers back into your mouth. You suck on them, tasting your tangy arousal, and he gives you a nod. “I can let whoever I want fuck this worthless, pathetic, whore, cum bucket, can’t I?”

You look over to the men, and suddenly realize why there is an audience, “Yes, sir. Whatever you want.”

“Get in the fucking box,” his finger points behind you to the glory hole wall, and you start to shake you head no, but he tsks you. “Babydoll, you said whatever I want. And I want your body, and your holes to be shared. You are nothing but a cum dump, but you’re my cum dump. Don’t you want to be filled to the brim with cum? Have all these cocks just for you? I’m giving you a gift.”

“Maybe she can’t handle it,” Jax smirks at you. “Can you handle three cocks fucking into, and you have no idea whose it is? Such a needy little cunt, and we’re just willing to help you out.”

“You’ll stay with me?” You look up at Lance, begging him to say with you.

“Of course, Babydoll, now get in the box, and show them how pretty your cunt is spread,” grabbing your hand, he guides you to the box. Letting you get comfortable on your back, he gives your tits a jiggle, and your spread your legs, hearing all the other men lick their lips as they walk closer. Hands smooth along your legs, over your sex, even under the hole, grabbing at your tits. Rolling your soft peaks in between their fingers.

A soft petaly lips kiss up your legs, and a tongue licks up your slit. The hand on your tit searches for your mouth, before he presses in a thick finger. “Giving you something to suck on, Babydoll,” Tyler. You could recognize that voice. The only one with an accent.

Someone’s face presses into your cunt while he kitten licks your clit. Diving in to suck the pearl into his mouth. His teeth giving the bean a little nibble, making you whimper, grabbing tightly to Lance. “They’re only getting started, baby.”

When his fingers push into your cunt, you know right away by the ringed digits that this is Jax, getting his face soaked in your juices. Laving up your arousal like a decadent dessert.

Crying out when you feel a thumb press into your ass. It could only Marshall. Him and Jax work in tandem, fingering both your holes, while Tyler fucks your face with his own fingers. Jax was relentless. Every lewd moan, makes him roll your clit in between his teeth. Curling his fingers, the pads of them stimulate your g spot. Your body lifts up off the platform, and you moan out Lance’s name.

Just before you get to cum, they all stop. Hands back off of you, and you sob at the absence of them. Two large hands slide down your legs, before placing your body just where he wants it. “Oh!” You sing as his thick cock breaks the barrier. No comfort is given to you when he starts jabbing into you. Grunting out how good you feel.

“Pinch her nipples,” Marshall. His hands hold you gently, but his cock drives into you with such force you see stars. Lance pinches down on your nipples, leaning forward a bit to kiss on your sticky skin. “God, you’re such a fucking whore. Got you giving up this pussy to whoever wants it. It feels good though doesn’t it?”

His pace turns into slow methodical thrusts into you. His tip playfully becoming acquainted with your cervix, and you scratch down your legs.

“Damn, save some for the rest of us.”

“Gotta make her…cum,” at the deep timbre of his voice, your walls clean his around him, and he struggles to pull out. Letting the next one step up to the plate.

Jax’s ringed fingers come under the hole, and grab harshly at your tits when he pushes into your warmth. There was a madness to him. A need for him to get off before you. Letting you know just how much you were just a fucktoy to them.

Lance’s hands caress your face, and he gives you a warm smile. “You’re doing so good my little cum baby. You love your thick cream cum don’t you?”

“Uh huh,” you moan as Jax slams into you. “Yeah, right there.”

“Oh, right there, Babydoll? That feel good, hmm? My god, she’s fucking adorable. Willing to let us use these whore holes,” he jams into you one more time, before he’s being yanked away.

“Time to flip it over, Babydoll,” is the only warning Tyler gives you before he’s turning you to your belly. kicking your legs to the side before pummeling into you. Holding onto your hips gruffly, and even Lance backs away. Your fingers reach towards him, before, he’s pulling his cock out.

Sliding it past your lips, and watching you gag on his length. Tyler pulls and tugs your body onto him, adding in the few odd slaps to your ass. Pulling apart your cheeks to see where the two of you connect. “Fuuck! She’s so sensitive. So tight, and got me in a vice grip. Let go, just let go, and I’ll fill you up. Jax and Marshall are over hear stroking their cocks and getting ready to watch all our cum drip out of this abused whore hole.”

The way they talk to you, ugh, it was sinful, but you loved it. Lance pulls out, so everyone can hear your labored breathing and pitiful whines. And the sounds alone were enough to have Tyler’s cum paint the inside of you. Pulling out, he’s replaced quickly by another cock. Not shy in using his friends jizz as more lube. “We like it messy,” Marshall growls, before releasing his own seed.

Followed by Jax’s hard slams into you with a fervent need.

“Gotta hear you scream out my name. Your husband is going to watch his cum dump dripping. Uh!” His spunk shoots into your womb, but he just fucks it deeper. Jax loved overstimulating himself. Pulling himself out, just so the three can watch your abused hole drip their cum out. “Push it out,” he says, as Lance walks out to watch as well.

“Or, I can fuck it back into her, and you guys can watch. You always gotta finish with your God of Olympics don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Masterlist

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#Kinktober 2022 #kinktober #lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x fem!reader #lance tucker x y/n #lance tucker x you #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker fic #lance tucker smut #sebastian stan

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chasingmidnights · 6 months

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13 Nights of Halloween: Campfire Stories; Story Five

Title: Three Nights of the Blood Moon

Storyteller: Bucky Barnes

Summary: A werewolf story.

Warnings: First of all, 18+, minor DNI! In this one, you should look out for mentions of blood; death; story features a werewolf; mild cursing; Bucky Barnes and Lance Tucker (both are warnings, okay?); mentions of beheading (werewolf); angst; and I believe that’s everything. I apologize if I missed anything but you are responsible for what you read. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you agree to these warnings and any potential ones that I may have missed. I do not claim to be a professional writer, any and all mistakes are my own; nothing is beta read. I hope you enjoy it and if you do please feel free to give it a like, comment, or share!

Wordcount: 1,426

“Oh, I bet this is gonna be good.” Nick said as he prodded at the logs in the fire with a metal poker stick.

“I didn’t think you were much of a storyteller.” Wanda commented as she snuggled closer to Johnny.

Bucky glanced up at the bright, full moon that was now shining above them, before he returned his attention to his friends. “Well, I feel like stepping out of my comfort zone tonight. Besides, I’ve done quite a bit of traveling and have a few stories to tell.”

“Go on babe, share with us your story.” Natasha encouraged him with a small smile.

Bucky nodded at her in appreciation before he got started with his story. Just as he was about to get started on his story, a howl sounded from somewhere in the distance, giving the perfect mood for his story.

“Alright, this was during my gap year, I had taken some time off before heading into college, so roughly two and a half years ago. I wasn’t ready for more classroom settings and I needed a break, so I ended up doing some traveling, backpacking mainly. I enjoyed every minute of my travels, even when I met a fellow backpacker and ended up in a small town in Romania. He had introduced himself as Lance Tucker and as we checked into a small inn, we heard chatter and we could tell that the people were clearly frightened about something. When we asked the manager, she said that the whole town was plagued with a werewolf and that the whole town was buzzing with anxiety about the upcoming full moon.

“This caught both of our attention and we wanted to know more about this supposed werewolf. After we checked into our room, we decided to see what the townspeople were so scared about. Lance and I thought maybe it was just a regular wolf, but we couldn’t have been more wrong. On the first night of the full moon, we waited for the sun to set to go after the wolf. The town’s people thought we were stupid for trying to do this. We waited in the church clock tower for this werewolf to arrive and as we waited, we talked about what we were going to do since we weren’t really experts on the matter. But this town needed help and I was determined to help them in any way that I could. I peeked out the clock tower window and noticed how full and round the moon was, not to mention the shade of red that it seemed to be giving off. That’s when we heard it, the howling of a large animal.

“The animal, well, more like creature was like nothing I had ever seen before, it was gruesome. When it was on all four legs, it was about the height of a large wolf on steroids with its back arched. It had dark, black skin and charcoal black fur along with giant, four paws with long claws. Its head and snout resembled that of a dog. The werewolf had dark soulless eyes and instead of a long tail, like most normal wolves have, this one had a bobbed tail. Just by looking at the creature, I could see why the town’s people were so terrified. My eyes grew wide when it stood on its hind legs, becoming the height of a grizzly bear. It let out another ear shattering howl and I was both amazing and scared out of my wits. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as I glanced over at Lance. Just by the look on his face, I could tell he was feeling the same thing as me.

“We watched from the clock tower as the werewolf started to come further into town, sniffing the air as it did. As we watched, I noticed movement down on the ground below us and a group of men were trying to sneak attack the werewolf. However, their plan failed miserably and one by one, the men were picked off. I couldn’t just watch as the werewolf slaughtered the townspeople, so I sprinted down the steps of the clock tower and took them two at a time. But, by the time that I got down there, it was too late. The monster was gone. I heard one of the injured men groan as he laid on the ground, bleeding out. I walked over to him, not really sure why but I did and I crouched down beside him. His dying wish was for the wolf to be defeated so that his town would be safe again. The following day, Lance and I helped the townspeople with moving the injured and dead. As we helped, we heard them talking about how it would be back on tonight’s full moon. Lance and I agreed that we would help in any way that we could.

“That night, it was another bloody mess with another unsuccessful plan to kill the beast. In fact, the werewolf seemed to be twice as strong from the previous night. It also seemed to be unbothered by any time that I managed to wound it with my sword that I had been given. The battle against the werewolf had only just started and everyone was already losing their strength, including myself. I carried on though, adrenaline pumped through my body as I wielded my sword and fought against the creature. The beast got the better of me though and flung me halfway across the town center. The impact of the landing knocked the breath out of me. By the time that I got up though, a gut wrenching scream came from Lance and I watched in horror as the werewolf dragged Lance away, disappearing into the woods once more. I looked around me and the smell of blood filled my nostrils, causing me to nearly gag. I was determined now more than ever to kill this creature.

“When the blood moon was full and high in the night sky on the third night, I stood alone in the town square as I waited for the werewolf. The townspeople were kind enough to give me armor in order to help protect me and I held the same sword in my hand from the previous night. Goosebumps formed all over my body as I felt heavy breathing down my neck, I didn’t have to turn around to know that the werewolf was now standing behind me. Before I could even make my first move, it had swung me around and I scrambled to my feet, picking up my sword as I did and lunged at the wolf. It easily dodged my attack with ease as it jumped onto the roof of one of the buildings. I held tightly onto the helm of the sword, waiting for it to strike. ‘Come on!’ I yelled, spit flying from my mouth as I did. That seemed to have done the trick and as the werewolf lunged for me, I quickly climbed on top of a nearby porch, ascending the stairs at a high speed and as the creature was back on the ground, I took my opportunity of having the high ground. I jumped from the high porch and as I did, I raised my sword, ready to strike the creature down. ‘Off with your head,’ I remember saying as the sword sliced through the werewolf’s neck, beheading the creature. A sense of pride came over me as I had defeated the creature. The people slowly started to come out of their homes and started to celebrate when they realized I had killed the creature.”

Bucky stared into the fire as he finished his story, jumping slightly when the sound of a far away howl broke the tense silence.

“You’re full of shit, Barnes.” Ransom said bluntly, narrowing his eyes at Bucky.

Bucky scoffed before he started to take off his flannel. “Want proof?” Bucky lifted up the sleeve of his under armor shirt, revealing four scars on his left bicep. “Received a little souvenir from it.”

You couldn’t help it as your jaw dropped at the sight of the scars, they looked exactly like claw marks.

“Holy shit.” Jake whispers. “Werewolves are real, I knew it.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I can top Bucky’s story tonight, but I have dibs on tomorrow night’s story.” Natasha spoke up after a moment of silence.

Everyone just sat there for a while before they slowly trickled away from the fire and to their tents.

#13 nights of halloween #campfire stories #story five #october 2023 #courtney writes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #lance tucker #lance tucker imagine #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker fandom #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan #bucky barnes storyteller #a werewolf story

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jobean12-blog · 2 years

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Your Boys in Bed with Books gives me so much life! How about that arrogant bastard, Lance Tucker? I can't help how much I love him 🥇

Boys in Bed with Books (17)- Lance Tucker

Pairing: Lance Tucker x reader

Word Count: 756

Summary: You distract Lance while he's reading in bed.

Author's Note: I love Lance and I especially love writing him a bit softer but still with that Lance edge haha this was a fun one. Thank you so very much for this request my sweet @rebel-stardust I hope you enjoy! Have a lovely day! HUGS💕 Thank you all so much for reading and for the amazing support for this series! Much love to you all always ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics thank you my friend 💕

Warnings: teasing, flirting, typical Lance, a curse here or there, smut (18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Boys in Bed with Books Masterlist

“Lance.”

You call his name, turning back to the mirror to check your lip gloss.

“Lance.”

This time a little louder but the only response you get is the turning of a page.

“TUCKER!” you shout as you stomp over to the bed.

“What the fuck buttercup? WHAT?” he yells.

Your smile is saccharine as you lean over him. “I called your name three times before you answered.”

His gaze instantly drops to your cleavage and he lifts his hand to cop a feel.

“So?” he replies, smiling back with his signature head tilt.

You smack his hand away with a grumble and roll your eyes before pushing away from him and sauntering back to the dresser.

“I need your help,” you tell him. “Can you come here please?”

You search for your necklace, sifting through your jewelry until you find the one you want. You lift your eyes to the mirror and see Lance still sprawled out on the messy bed with his focus back on the book.

Your hands land on your hips and you curse under your breath. You walk back to the bed and pull the book from his hands.

“Break the Fall…” you read. “Isn’t this my book?”

He makes grabby hands but you keep it out of his reach, raising an expectant eyebrow. With a sigh he shifts his attention and let’s his eyes wander down the length of you.

“You look amazing,” he murmurs.

“Lance don’t change the subject,” you chide. “Are you reading my young adult romance novel?”

His mouth opens and closes but no words pass his lips until you start to giggle and he finally finds his voice.

“It’s about gymnastics!” he whines defensively.

“Looks like you’re enjoying it,” you tease as you hand it back to him.

He grabs your waist when you start to walk away, spinning you back into his arms.

“Why don’t you stay home with me beautiful?”

“And what? Read?” you giggle.

His plump lips lift into a sideways smirk. “Hell fucking no.”

You give him a soft kiss and throw him a wink.

“You know it’s girls night. Now, come help me with my necklace, I can’t get it closed,” you say as you wiggle out of his arms.

“You bring it here,” he says, patting his thigh.

“Lance,” you whine.

“I’ve got the perfect seat,” he croons.

Your lips form a thin line and your eyebrows lower.

“You’re such a pain in my ass Tucker,” you huff.

“You love my ass!” he states proudly.

“This has nothing to do with your ass. Now shut up and help me.”

“Please,” he says.

You walk back to him, necklace in hand and crawl into his lap, settling your thighs on either side of his. The hem of your dress rides up, exposing your bare skin. His eyes automatically drop between your legs and he licks his lips.

“Lance my love, will you please help me with my necklace?”

You bat your lashes and press your breasts against his chest before taking his chin and lifting his eyes to yours.

“Where are your panties?” he hisses.

You give him a nonchalant shrug and kiss his cheek, feeling his jaw tighten just as his cock throbs beneath you.

“Thank you so much Lance,” you gush as you turn in his arms and make a kissy face. “You’re my hero.”

You shiver when his fingertips ghost over your skin to close the clasp and when you try to stand he stops you, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips and holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he hums.

“Out with the girls?” you answer, already feeling your resolve slipping away.

“Is that really what you want to do?” he says, his tone haughty.

“Aren’t you going to be busy reading all night?” you counter.

“Don’t change the subject,” he mocks, throwing your words from earlier back at you.

His thumbs hook under your dress and he slides the material up and over your hips before he dips a finger between your thighs and glides it through your arousal.

He flashes you his best cocky grin as he drags his teeth over his bottom lip.

“I think you’d rather stay here and sit on my face baby,” he hums, teasing your clit.

“Lance,” you gasp, doing your best to suppress your body’s instinctive reaction to his touch.

“Come on baby girl. You know you want to. I’ll even let you suck my cock while I eat you out.”

@book-dragon-13 @christywantspizza @dreamlessinparis @goldylions @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @justile @loricamebackyetagain @lookiamtrying @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @loki-laufeyson-1054 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @seitmai @turbolisedcomet @breakablebarnes @weekendgothgirl

#lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x you #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan characters #the bronze #boys in bed with books

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littlelioncub43 · 2 years

Note

Hi!🧸I saw your recent post about a boxer going feral after a match and was thinking of Lance Tucker 🫣If you’re okay with it I was wondering if you could write something with the concept. Thank you for putting so much effort into your blog, and sorry to bother you! Have a good day 🫶🏻

*gasp* Lance, you say??? I haven't written about that bratty puppy in sooooo long 🥺 this was a good thot, I had to drabble it 😄 and you were so polite when asking, I really couldn't say no💖🫂

I still hate him 🥰 NSFW below the cut.

"This was all I could fucking think about," Lance growls in your ear between savage grunts, "every fucking day, I'd wake up hard as a fucking rock knowing that I couldn't have you, couldn't touch you, couldn't taste you— fuck it nearly drove me crazy, baby."

You try to form a response but all the comes out of your mouth is a cry of what is supposed to be Lance's name. He groans with you, your pussy was suffocating him. Plush, hot walls of your tender flesh surrounding his cock— fucking hell he was going to cum.

He bites his lip and tightens his grip on you, the crushing hold was firm enough to make your bones ache. You feel his sweaty chest heave against your equally sweaty back as he takes you from behind. His pace changing ever so slightly as he loses all semblance of technique.

When you scream for him this time, it's followed by the delicious unfolding of your high. Your pussy flutters around him crazily, a rush of your sweet juice coating his balls as they clap against your flesh. The sounds of your animalistic fucking would make the devil blush; wet smacks of your skin meeting, the squeaking of the mattress beneath you, the headboard slamming harshly into the wall in perfect time with Lance's punishing thrusts.

Oh, the noises coming out of the two of you. Deep grunts, growls, and groans pour freely from Lance's smirking lips, they were harmonized perfectly by your screams and moans. Words were lost on you both as you indulged in the carnal joys of your relationship.

3 months he'd been training for the fight against Sam "The Falcon" Wilson. For 3 months he couldn't touch you, hell, he wasn't even allowed to kiss you. So the moment he won, Lance was stalking towards you, throwing you over his shoulder and driving you both back to his apartment.

The telltale signs of his high were amplified by the waiting. He earned this, he deserved this. And by God he was going to have it. His back archd deeply as he got closer and closer, his face changing from the pinched, painful wince to a euphoric blissed out gasp. A loud groan belows out from deep in his chest as he plants himself as deep inside you as humanly possible. His hips twitch as he milks himself into your waiting cunt, you cant help but moan at the feeling. With each rope that pours into you, he trembles and whimpers loudly in your ear. It sends shivers up your spine.

Finally after what feels like an eternity, Lance relaxes with a sigh, his muscles slowly unwinding. He collapses on top of you, not bothering to pull out, both of you lying on your stomachs. You both gasp for breath, collecting your thoughts in silence as your souls return to your body. Lance buries his face in your hair and breathes deeply, groaning softly at the smell of your shampoo.

"Fuck, I missed you," he whispers under his breath. He's always soft after intense moments like that, but you also know he's not done with you. You moan his name when he begins to rut into you again, slower this time but still intense. "Won that match for you, Princess," he whispers again, pressing a smoldering kiss to your shoulder, "now, let me collect my prize."

I no longer have a taglist! If you wish to stay up-to-date on when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library 💖

#lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker smut #lance tucker x y/n #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #little lion literature

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nocturne-pisces · 2 years

Note

I didn't see him on your masterlist, but a dark!Lance tucker 👀👀👀

mmmmmmm, bestie i’ve been waiting for someone to throw this in my inbox.

Dark!Lance Tucker x Reader

You gulped in a breath, the edges of your vision returning with your intake of the oxygen you were deprived of.

“If you want gold, you’re gonna have to have more endurance than that, bronze.” Lance held you upright by your hair, his sharp jawline set as his gaze is cast down at you. “I expected better.”

You’d done a full into a step out and it ended sloppy, dropping you from gold to silver, and then an exposed bra strap had dropped you to bronze. They were stupid mistakes, things you’d trained out of yourself- but you woke up this morning feeling off and it had snowballed.

Lance’s blue track pants are pushed down just enough for his saliva slick cock to bob in your face, his office door locked and the blinds dropped. “You’re the best one on the team. You’re the one the other college girls look up to, and this is the example you set for them?”

Your chest still heaving, you try to interject. “Coach, please, it was just a bad day, I-“ Before you can finish your sentence he shoves himself past your lips, tutting above you as you retch. “Olympic Gold Medalists don’t have bad days,” he replies, wrapping his fist around your ponytail to push you further down his length.

“You’re lucky this mouth of yours is so fucking hot, or I’d send you packing back to whatever buttfuck hick town you came from.” He pushes against your head harder, the crown of his cock pressing against the entrance to your esophagus. “But you suck dick like a champ, so I’ll give you another shot.”

He lets go of your hair and you pull back to heave in breath, looking up at him. Lance sneers down at you, his fingers smearing your own saliva across your face making your mascara trail black. He uses the same fingers to trace black against the tattoo on his pelvis. “You show me you can work for the gold, and I’ll let you go back out and practice your routine.”

He doesn’t have to tell you what he means, you already know. You take one last steadying breath before you flatten your tongue and take him down again. You push against the resistance harder and harder until a pop in the back of your throat makes you sputter your victory around him. Your nose brushes against the gold medal tattooed in his skin and his hand comes back down to the back of your head to keep you in place. “See? I knew you could do it, bronze. Just a little determination and some hard work.”

He swipes tears off your cheeks, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste them before thrusting into your throat. “Mmm, victory never tasted so sweet.”

#lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #dark!lance tucker x reader #dark!lance tucker #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker fic #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagine #the bronze #the bronze fanfic

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onceuponastory · 2 years

Text

want your bad romance - lance tucker x reader

Plot: Lance likes Y/N’s fire...but he also likes to tease, and show who’s really in control. Pairing: Lance Tucker x Female!Reader (if you squint) Warnings: There’s some light smut, so 18+ Please! Just a few mentions of masturbation and the reader being h*rny over Lance, but even so. Also, reader is of age in this, but Lance is her coach, so there’s a power imbalance between them. Please use your own discretion if that kinda thing makes you uncomfortable. There’s also a few mentions of violence (nothing actually happens though). Finally, Lance Tucker being the cocky asshole he is, because he’s a warning all on his own. If I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: Lance Tucker is one of my fave Sebastian characters (mostly because he’s such an arse), so I knew I had to write something for him. And here we are! Not beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

“Come on Y/N! This isn’t good enough! Again.” Lance shouts across the gym to her. Huffing, Y/N climbs back up, working her way through her routine once more. As she does so, she curses Lance under her breath, hoping he won’t hear her.

When the Olympic medallist Lance Tucker agreed to take her under his wing as one of his students, Y/N Y/L/N was so excited. After all, as a gold and silver Olympic medallist, she was sure that Lance knew all there was to know about gymnastics. So training under him would be a surefire way to ensure success, and some medals of her own. However, the bubble burst pretty soon after she started training with him. Or actually…as soon as she met him.

Because despite all his accomplishments and his fucking gorgeous, sculpted from marble body… Lance Tucker is just an arrogant arsehole who hides behind his bravado and his medals, using them as a justification to treat people like shit. And Y/N is no different. Of course, as someone who’s been in gymnastics training for most of her life, she’s well aware of how mean and demanding gymnastic coaches can be, especially ones training potential Olympic hopefuls. She’s already had enough to last her a lifetime. But Lance…Lance is different. He seems to pick on her for every little thing she does, judging everything from his ivory tower, yet doing nothing to help her actually correct her mistakes.

“Back straighter!”

“That landing was shit! Do it again.”

“Goddammit, point with your fucking toes, too! Come on Y/N, this is basic stuff!”

Sometimes Y/N swears Lance just likes public humiliation. Especially when it’s against her. Maybe it’s his kink or something. And most frustratingly, there’s nothing she can do about it. She just has to climb back up onto the bars or the vault and try again…whilst making a few comments under her breath, of course. If Lance can do it, so can she. She would say them to his face. It’s just that she’s too scared to, because she’d rather not attract his ire any more than she already is.

And yet, despite how cruel Lance is to her, he is really fucking attractive, and Y/N would be lying if she said that she hasn’t ever thought about seeing just how flexible he can be outside of their training sessions, feeling his hot breath against her-

“Come ON! I know a girl who could do this routine in her sleep when she was five!” He shouts across the gym at her as soon as her feet touch the matt, interrupting her thoughts. “Again.” He angrily gestures to the bars. “I shouldn’t have to expect to tell you to keep doing this routine, Y/N! You should know it.” Grumbling, Y/N powders her hands again, ready to tackle the bars once more.

Mostly though, she wants to wring his neck.

“Sure you do. Why don’t you get her to do it then, instead of fucking bitching to me?” She mutters under her breath. “And I do know it. I’ve practised it enough times. Dickhead.” When she’s sure she’s ready, Y/N jumps, catching the bars and pulling herself up into the air. She performs the routine once again, twisting and moving her body throughout the air. As she finishes, she lands on the mat, not even stumbling. The adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Y/N throws her hands up in the air in a triumphant pose…to be greeted by pure silence from Lance for once. Y/N grins. Maybe she’s finally stunned him into silence? She looks over at Lance, expecting to see him watching her, with his mouth open and his eyes wide. To her shock, he’s on his phone, absorbed in scrolling through it. Rage fills her body, and she storms over to him.

“Hey! I just aced my landing, and you weren’t even looking!” She shouts, causing him to look up from his phone.

“What, you nailed one landing out of two hundred shitty ones? That’s nothing special, sweetheart.” He scoffs. The angry and perplexed look on her face makes him roll his eyes. “I don’t want you nailing your landings, I want you to win a gold fucking medal, like I did-”

“Oh my god, I KNOW!” Y/N snaps as the pressure Lance has put her under for the past few weeks reaches a pressure point. “We’ve all heard the story about how you won the gold, and how pissed off you are that nobody is giving you any recognition for it anymore. It’s because nobody cares, Lance! You know what? Maybe the reason none of your students are doing well is because you’re too obsessed with your career and your medals to help us win some.” Lance doesn’t reply, and Y/N steps closer, continuing her verbal onslaught. “Is that it, Lance? Are you so pathetic, so unwilling to admit that you’re washed up and don’t want someone to be better than you? So desperate to cling to your crown?” She demands. “You need to realise that you aren't as good as you think you are.” When she’s finished shouting at him, she pants a little, trying to calm herself down.

And as she does, the realisation of what she just did begins to sink in. “Oh god.” She murmurs. Lance may be a total asshole, but he is the Olympic Team Coordinator. There goes her chances of even making it to the opening ceremony, let alone being an Olympic hopeful. Bracing herself for Lance’s inevitable outburst, she gulps. Lance does not help alleviate her worries either, as he keeps staring at her in silence, his eyes wandering low as he bites his lip ever so slightly. Even though she’s still worried about what’s going to happen, the sight of Lance looking at her like that makes her heart rate rise, and a familiar warm feeling begins to grow within her. Surprisingly though, Lance simply smirks.

“Oh, you have some fire in you, don’t you?” He grins. “I like that in a woman.”

“You-you do?” She squeaks, immediately embarrassed at the tone of her voice. Lance nods, a smug grin displayed on his face. With Lance Tucker, a smile like that always means trouble.

“Yep.” He nods, popping the p. She never noticed how pink Lance’s lips were. Her mind soon fills with ideas on what he could do with them, only causing the warm feeling to spread even further, this time going between her thighs. Shit. This can’t be happening. Of course, there were plenty of times she’d thought about her coach and had to relieve herself, but that was always at home in bed. Not here, and not now. And especially not right in front of Lance. She has to get out of here quickly.

“You know, despite how much of a pain in my ass you are, I actually like a lot of things about you, Y/N.” He winks, and Y/N suppresses a moan. Thankfully, though, Lance doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t mention it. “And you can use that fire in your routines. Make everyone believe you want to win, that you want it.” He steps ever so slightly forward, and Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat. If he comes any closer to her, she might explode. “You do want it, don’t you Y/N?” He whispers, his voice ever so slightly deeper. Y/N has a funny feeling that he’s not talking about gymnastics anymore. She nods quickly, biting her tongue to prevent whatever unholy thoughts or sayings she has from escaping. As her pussy starts to tingle, Y/N tries not to squirm. Lance opens his mouth again, and she hopes he’s going to let her have a break. That way, she can run to the bathrooms and get this over with before she loses it. Instead, though, Lance only makes it worse.

“See, I don’t believe you. I think I need more convincing.” Y/N tries desperately to think of something, anything to say. But she can’t think of anything. “Cat got your tongue? That’s funny, because you had no issue talking shit about me a few minutes ago.” Lance watches her as she starts to fidget. With the smirk rapidly growing on his face, she can tell that Lance knows how she’s feeling, and that he’s enjoying teasing her until she reaches her breaking point. After this, she’s definitely going to kill him. First, though, she needs to get the hell out of here and deal with this problem. Lance keeps a trained eye on her the whole time, staring as she writhes and winces as the pleasure continues to build, close to reaching a breaking point.

“Lance…I really need the-” she gasps, but Lance cuts her off by pressing his arms against the wall, trapping her.

“What? Oh, you need to go to the bathroom, don’t you?” He hisses. “Because even though you like to pretend that you hate me, I know how you really feel about me. And that you’re desperately close to coming over me once again.” He laughs at the confused look on her face. “Yeah, sweetheart, I know. You’re not exactly subtle.” He still doesn’t let her go, continuing to watch as she writhes between his arms. “God, your pussy is practically dripping through that leotard.” When she doesn’t reply, he smirks. “Now who’s pathetic?” He whispers, the sensation of his hot breath on her skin making things even worse.

“Fuck you.”

“Nope. That’s not going to cut it. Try again.” God, one of these days, she really is going to punch his stupid, beautiful face. But now, though, she’s choosing to survive.

“Lance, please.” She begs. “I’m sorry, alright? Please, just let me go now.” Lance gives her one last look, grinning.

“That’s better. On you go.” He smirks. Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. As she heads towards the bathroom, Lance calls after her.

“Hopefully this is a lesson to you, Y/N. Don’t cause anymore trouble, because next time…I won’t be so nice.” Y/N suppresses the urge to flip him off, and instead hurries off to the bathrooms.

“Bastard.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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#lance tucker x reader #lance tucker #lance tucker x y/n #lance tucker x you #lance tucker the bronze #the bronze #lance tucker fanfiction #the bronze fanfiction

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

Note

What if...in Looking For Fun, Lance was the escort. A specifically hired escort to spice up your boredom and lacklustre sex life. Just a thot 🥲

Thanks Lau!

Looking for Fun AU

CW: Cheating, Sexual content

You hated accompanying Alexander to these functions, but as wife number 3, you knew you had to put on your fake smile and play your part as the pretty trophy you knew you were.

Your only reprieve were the chats with the other wives (and the illicit girlfriends you all pretended not to know about) in the washroom and at the bar.

Excusing yourself from Alexander's moist octopus grip, on the pretext of getting a drink, you retreated to the marble refuge.

Entering the washroom, you could feel the electricity in the air. Your friend Kayla pulled you to the side immediately.

"We did it." She exclaimed. "The plan came together. Here's the room key. You're expected in 5 mins."

The metal was cold in your palm. You expected to be more nervous about this than you were. You were about to cheat on your husband. But you knew he wasn't faithful, far from it. You'd been his mistress before you were his wife...and let's face it, if the old man could get it up any more it was a miracle. He preferred to watch you pleasure yourself and then cum into his hand. Which was fine by you.

You slipped down the corridor from the washrooms and got into the elevator, tapping your foot as it whisked you upwards.

A few steps down from the sliding doors was the room that matched your key. You slotted the tooth-edged metal into the lock and walked in.

His name was Lance, tall, lean and athletic and he greeted you with a cocky smile. He was wearing a suit, but had the tie and top shirt button undone, and held two chrystal tumblers of whisky. He offered one, which you gladly accepted.

He sensed your nervousness, and led to slowly by the hand over to the side of the bed. You perched next to him and sipped your whisky. Lance did the same, but without taking his eyes of you. When his tongue snuck out to trap an errant drop your thought you'd pass out.

Glasses empty, he removed it from your grip and placed both down on the side table. Cupping your face he took your lips in a bruising kiss. All your retiscence disappeared, and your fingers flew to his hair, returning his kiss with fevour.

The next half hour was a blur of feral coupling, Lance bending you into positions you didn't think you could ever manage again. And the man had stamina. He gave you two orgasms with his fingers and mouth before he even slid his cock into you.

And his dirty talk - full of filthy, degrading praise. Telling you how well you were taking it, what a gorgeous, needy slut you were for him. He made you cum on his cock over and over before he finally emptied himself into the condom.

He grinned at you as you both got your breath back, laying on the bed, covered in sweat and chests heaving.

You were surprised when he helped you wash up, although maybe it was part of the service. He made sure that your make-up, dress and hair were all pristine as well.

You fished out a bundle of notes from your purse and smiled when he passed you his card in return.

Re-entering the function room, you ordered two drinks from the bar before returning to Alexander's side.

"Hey , Daddy. Sorry I was so long. I got chatting and lost track of time. Here's your drink." You passed him the tumbler, and he drew you to his side.

"No problem, Sugar. As long as you were having a good time."

"Oh, I had lots of fun."

#asks answered #what if #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker x reader #the slumber party #Lau 🍬

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bubblessunshinehoney · 1 year

Text

Day 18- Handcuffes with Lance Tucker

364 words

18 + only! NO MINOR INTERACT

Kinktober masterlist

A/N: hey guys, i have to repost all of my 18 days of Kinktober for now. Because my account got suspended last night. Many of you might have read them already, and maybe many more of you might read it for the first time. I'm not someone who asks for reblogs, likes are find by me. But for this one time...i would be very grateful if you could reblog it. To help me go back in the game. I'm sad that i lost all my works. But so grateful i wrote them on Word... Or i would have lost literally months of prepration.

So yeah, Hi again, i'm back, hopping to get back my first account.

Enjoy,

Cloudy

Don't be shy to comment, reblog or like! :)

TW: kind of dom!mean reader, uses of vibrator

not beta read, english is not my first language, all mistakes are my own

Oh he was in for a long night of blue balls.

You had one rule, if he was handcuffs with his medals, he couldn’t touch you or move. And the proud man he was, couldn’t imagine break them.

“Come one, sweets, don’t be so mean with me?” he whines dramatically. You’re doing a lap dance, making some pose he taught you years ago. You’re spreading your leg on top of me, letting him see your wet folds, you caress his naked body with yours, nipples teasing his aching cock.

Oh yes, he is for a long night, and you are thrilled. Thrilled, because he was the biggest jerk to you the past few weeks, so you were going to make him suffer.

He’s looking at his handcuffs, growling when he sees you take your favourite vibrator, whimpers when you sit across from him and put the object of all his desire on your clit. You moan, arching your back like he loves. You let him see your pussy clenches and unclenches around nothing, your arousal sipping out of it.

“Let me taste it.” You shake your head, giving him the silence treatment too. He deserves it. He knows it, but fuck his cock hurts him right now. He needs relief.

“Babe, please, touch me. I’m dying”. You shrug and he whines, squirming without making harsh movement on the medals.

You push the fake vibrating cock in your pussy, moaning a bit more than you would do normally, but Lance he’s too fuck out to realise, his cock throbs at it and you smile. You make a show out of it, Lance whining and whimpering at the lack of touch and attention from you, but fuck why does that turn him on more?

When you cum, he moans loudly, loving to see you let go, see that face you do, crossed eyes, cute frown and the noises that come out of you…he could cum only by that. And he almost does, but you’re quick to hold the base of his cock and to ruin his orgasm.

“BABE”.

“Don’t ignore me, Lance, I could do even worse next time.” You kiss him and leave the room.

taglist :

@navybrat817 @christywantspizza @buckyalpine @iloveprettyboysblog @ethreal-love @nailedbymandy

@captainsimagines @buckybarnesandmarvel @rogersandlightwood @sparkledfirecracker @barneswinterraven @hansensgirl @blades-and-heartbreak @runa-falls @chrisdrysdale

#cloudy&bella kinktober #cloudy&bellaskinktober #kinktober22 #kinktober 2022 #lance tucker #sebastian stan characters #the bronze #lance tucker smut #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker x y/n #lance tucker fic #lance tucker x dom!reader #repost #signal boost

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤 ♡

summary - being the obsession of six men isn’t so bad.

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

#imyourbratzdollwork #imyourbratzdollmasterlist #lance tucker fluff #lance tucker x y/n #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x you #lance tucker #lance tucker imagine #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker imagines #lance tucker oneshot #lance tucker fic #lance tucker one shot #sebastian stan characters

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

Text

Rumplestiltskin, Epilogue

Summary: ...a few years later

Pairings: Andy Barber X Walter X Chase Collins, Lance Tucker X Branwen Barber

Rating: 🥺🥺

Warnings: a bit of gaslighting and manipulation, sad!Andy, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.2K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Walter, how long has it been?” Andy tiredly asks the horse as they wander around the forest. Every day. All day. Nothing ever changes and he didn’t feel as if he was getting any closer. The forest seemed oddly bigger than he recalled.

“It feels as if it’s been hundreds of years with you,” the horse deadpans, and stops abruptly in the woods. Andy lets out an annoyed groan, “He’s coming,” Walter whispers. The horse backs the two of them up, while he and Andy wait with bated breath for Chase to make his monthly visit.

Chase dramatically lands in a crouch, and stands up slowly looking at Andy, “Care to guess?”

“Go over your rules again, trickster.”

“I don’t get anything past you anymore, old man. Should you give me my brother’s name that he told your precious queen, you get your family back. Should you give me his birth name, this all becomes a dream, and you have your baby back in your arms..”

“And I walk around on two legs again,” Walter blows out a puff of air, letting his hoof pound the ground.

“Yes, of course. How long has it been Andy? Your daughter won’t even remember you, would she?” Andy’s nostrils flare as he glares at the faerie. “Oh, that’s right, ten years. No doubt you’ve heard the rumblings in the forest.”

“You sack of shit! You’ve cursed the entire forest for what reason? So your baby brother could have a fantasy with my wife and child. They’ll never belong to him.”

“Hmm, doesn’t matter to me. I thrive and feed off of chaos. Your mistake has made these woods even more interesting. Had you had kept that tree standing, there never would have been the green apples. You did that Andy. Now you rush to the edge of the forest and hope some maiden won’t enter. They always do. The creatures in these woods are too enticing. Prey on the world outside without lifting a finger. Their very essence beckons those weak women in,” Chase throws his head back with a maniacal laugh. His eyes now as black as the feathers on his back and the heart in his chest.

“Bernard.”

“Wrong.”

“Steven.”

“Very wrong.”

“Theodore.”

“Oh, not close at all. Two more guesses, and I’ll see you in a month.”

Walter snorts, wiggling his back. Andy didn’t know any direction to go with these names. Didn’t have a clue what to say. It was always wrong. “Tick tock goes the clock.”

“Azriel.”

“One more guess, King Andrew.”

“Lancelot.”

Chase’s eye twitches for half a second, but then that devil turns his mouth up into an evil grin. “I’ll see you in a month.”

“Ahh!” Andy screams, letting his head collapse on Walter’s neck. “Keep going.”

“Andy, maybe it’s time…”

“Keep going. You’re under this curse until she gets her happily ever after. This is her fate and it was always destined to happen this way, which is why you’re still a horse,” a raven caws in this distance, and Walter backs up a moment.

Looking where the bird had come from, but it was already gone, and he was definitely dreaming.

Lance stands over your body, using a cloth to clean you. A new fresh vase of roses beside your bed. His thumb traces over the features on your face, and he wonders if this was even worth it. He had you, but only in part. You were just a memory now. And he’d forgotten the sound of your voice. Or the way you never hesitated to touch him or show him kindness.

A black raven lands on the window, trying to get Lance’s attention, and he looks over at her, “Come on, princess. Come see your mother,” a ten-year-old Branwen transforms back into a little girl, and she straightens out her dress, walking over to you.

She was getting so big. Changing nearly daily. She gets next to you and leans over, pressing a kiss onto your forehead, before sitting on the bed beside you, “Have you drank your apple juice today,” she turns and scowls at Lance, and he throws his hands up in surrender.

“Let me see your eyes,” with a quick caress on your hand, she goes to sit in his lap, while he examines her golden eyes, “Still the same.”

“Why do you make me drink that juice everyday?”

“Because, princess. The apple is what gives you your power. I’m afraid that should you eat the golden apple, you’d…”

“Be like you and Chase?” Lance nods his head, but his eyes move back over to you. “I saw him today,” she grimaces as she looks up at him, “I’m sorry. He was guessing.”

“I told you to avoid that man,” he looks back at her. His eyes flit around her face as he tries to figure out what she knows.

“Chase went to him first. He wanted to know your name. What’s he looking for,” Lance holds up his hand pointing at you, “Why does he want my mother? Can he fix her?”

“No, let’s not worry about that.”

“But I want her, Papa. It’s not fair that I don’t have her awake. What can we do to wake her?”

“Only one thing, my beautiful little raven,” Branwen sighs, assuming that Lance will never tell her, “True love’s kiss.”

“Then it’s my dad?”

“I suppose.”

“So I need to find him. And he can wake her up, and we can live happily ever after?” She smiles up at Lance. Her cheeks dent in with her dimples. “What does he look like?”

“We shouldn’t worry about that. Should your dad want to find your mom, here she is. And if you, her, and your father live happily ever after, where does that leave me? Have I not been good to you? I make sure you have time with her.”

“It’s not the same. That…that child in the forest. She has seven dads. Why can’t I find mine? Would one of them be mine? Can I ask them? Papa, I want my mama,” she pouts up at him while her eyes fill with tears. “It isn’t fair. Princess Orla has all these dads and her mom, and I have neither. And she said her mother is having another.”

“Am I not enough?” She shakes her head, before laying down on Lance’s chest. Her fingers wipe away the tears that just won’t stop, and Lance has to look up at the ceiling.

It wasn’t fair what he was doing. But he couldn’t lose his little raven. The thought of showing up at the tower with you gone, just didn’t feel right. So instead he fights the need to reunite your family. “Orla said her father is Beck. He’s a doctor. Can I bring him here to my mother? Maybe there’s another way.”

“Shh, you need rest. You’ve been flying all over the forest, and you're such a small Raven. But a beautiful and fierce one, my darling Branwen. Go to sleep, child. We’ll go home in the morning.”

Branwen doesn’t want to close her eyes, but when Lance starts singing to her softly, her eyes become heavier, before she drifts asleep on his heart. He looks down at his wings at the bottom feathers turn white, “I won’t give her back,” he says to himself, as the white feathers drift to the floor.

“I can’t. She makes me feel normal again,” he knows this back and forth game he was playing with his soul couldn’t be good. Gain his humanity back, only for him to prove he was in fact a cruel faerie. But he had raised Branwen. She was his daughter now. And Andy could search the forest for a hundred years, and he would never give you back. You and her belonged to him.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @whimsyplaty92 @xcaptain-winterx @bambamwolf87 @lavender-annd-lilac @thedarkplume @duuhrayliegh @rebekahdawkins @johndeaconshands @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @feyfantome @athena-penrose @smile1318 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @andydrysdalerogers

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tharros-auris-black-asimi · 2 years

Text

I am his, he is mine

Pairing: Dark Mafia Lance Tucker x Nera Yang (OFC)

Summary: Between a marriage with a mafia boss and the upcoming funeral Nera has to involve herself in, it's always nice to find a bit of downtime.

Even if that said "downtime" is getting fucked in a dressing room by her husband on a shopping trip.

Warnings: Mafia AU, Dark!Lance, Possessive!Lance, interracial relationship, cultural differences, mentions of funeral planning, past toxic relationship, past mention of cheating, semi-public sex, mirror sex, mild body issues, daddy kink, pet names (bunny), rough kissing, vaginal sex, rough sex, mentions of bodily fluids, mild choking

Additional Notes: This was written for Bea, aka @extremelyblackandwhite's special day! I hope you enjoy babes! Happy late birthday!

Also, I'll be posting this onto my AO3 too. If you wanna read it on the AO3, you can do so here.

Word Count: 6226

“Bunny, let’s go shopping.”

“Huh?”

It had caught his wife’s attention. The petite, but chubby Hmong woman looked up from her book. A bewildered expression graced her face as she secured her place with a bookmark before putting the book down.

“Come again?” She asked, still confused. It certainly showed on her face. Her dark eyebrows were scrunched together.

Her brown eyes searched up and down, looking up at Lance’s face, in his blue eyes, before her eyes trailed down his body, even seeing the tattoos he had on his hands. The crime boss of all of Seattle was still staring at her. Waiting for an answer.

“Oh.”

“Oh!”

He was being serious.

Like, real serious.

Hopping up to her feet, the dark-haired man watched as his little wife strode over to him, the golden necklace with the medal hanging on the small chain bouncing against the fabric of her cropped mint colored sweater. Nera smoothed down her purple skirt that looked a little faded because he knew those were her favorite pair. Grey slippers with bunny ears on the top graced her feet. And he also knew for a fact that she didn’t wear shoes in the house. When they first started going out, his little bunny told him straight up that in Asian households, they did not wear shoes.

Point blank period.

And Lance definitely agreed on the no-shoe-in-the-house rule. It was just so tacky. Any dirt or muddy footprints drove him nuts. Plus, they were always such a bitch to mop off of the floor. He wasn’t about to waste his time on that shit.

“Uh… why are we going shopping?” Nera asked him, only a little bit confused now. “Don’t you remember? We gotta go to your grandpa’s funeral from your dad’s side that’s in a few months. I already pre-packed our bags and shit. You told me a month ago that we had to be there for the funeral planning. And because you threw the biggest fit when you put in ten thousand for the funeral price.”

A scowl suddenly appeared on Nera’s face. “Because my uncle started bitching about it!” She snapped, looking irritated now. “He was all, ‘Oh, you must put in a sizable amount of money,’ and then when I put in ten-thousand, he wanted to act like I didn’t put in enough! I gave them ten thousand! Ten! Thousand! What more could they want from me? I’m a part of the immediate family! I’m the granddaughter! Of course I’d give them some money!” She exclaimed. Really, she looked about ready to grab a shotgun off the wall and put a bullet through her uncle’s head.

Not that Lance really blamed her. He had met her dad’s side of the family once, and boy oh boy. They had enough drama to have a reality TV show on TLC, or like the fucking Kardashians and shit.

Come to think of it, weren’t they getting another reality TV show on Hulu?

Lance knew that Hope Ann Gregory, his second-in-command would eat that shit up. She lived for the messy drama. The blonde woman had even been there for the Dramageddon One with that one celebrity dude that Maggie Townsend, one of Lance’s employee's kids lovingly dubbed “Jafar Starfish” had been in. That one older dude with pink hair and no eyebrows.

Whatever.

He didn’t keep up with that shit. That was something Hope, Maggie, and Nera clearly kept up with. Whatever made them happy, he supposed.

But anyway.

Getting back on track with the whole funeral thing.

“He's still on that payment bullshit, huh?” Lance mused. Nera just scoffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “No. It’s considered an “unspoken topic” because everyone got mad at each other and now they aren’t fucking speaking to each other. It’s so fucking stupid.”

Not that Lance was one to talk.

Not really.

His parents had gotten divorced when he had been eight because his dad had been a misogynistic piece of utter shit. It all had started when Lance had been young, wanting to do gymnastics, only for his deadbeat dad to tell him that he couldn’t do it because “you’re a man and men only do manly sports like boxing or wrestling.”

What a fucking little bitch.

Now Lance had a Silver and a Gold medal from the Olympics, on top of being the regional mafia boss of all of Seattle.

His dear old dad could go and fuck himself.

So really, the whole we-have-a-fucked-up-family-history was just one of the things Lance and Nera shared in common.

“… but—” Nera was continuing to talk again. “When we get there, my uncle’s gonna make such a huge show of apologizing to all of us. Bitch, please. I’m not accepting any of his fucking apologies. Not when he called me a gold digger when we got engaged. Remember that?”

Oh yes.

Oh yes, Lance did indeed remember the Unfortunate Events of their Engagement. Or, as everyone around their personal family circles gossiped and had called it, The Mafia Scandal. Lance and Nera had gotten engaged after four years of dating after Lance had overheard Nera’s mother asking why she and Lance hadn’t tied the knot yet. According to Nera’s mother, she thought that if two people were still dating after two years and hadn’t tied the knot yet, then they weren’t destined to be together, or some weird thought process like that.

Sadly for his mother-in-law, Lance had heard everything. So, to the surprise of Nera’s mom, after catching her daughter’s boyfriend absolutely banging her in a closet, he had announced that they were getting married.

… and then Nera’s uncle had thrown a fit and called her a gold digger, leading to Nera spilling the tea on his past marriage and causing chaos for the entire household.

Really, the entire household was in a chokehold for an entire week.

To make matters even worse for Nera’s mom, she and Lance had decided to just get married at the courthouse, with her older sister Gina and Gina’s boyfriend and Lance’s personal bodyguard/driver Curtis Everett being the only two people in attendance.

So, Lance had a sneaking suspicion that her mother was going to try and bring it up when they would get back to her hometown during the funeral.

Possibly.

Maybe.

“Uh-huh, yeah I remember bunny.” He was nodding along. Letting out an annoyed noise, Nera stretched her hands in an effort to calm herself down. It allowed Lance to see the newly manicured nails that she had gotten. Unlike some women who had their nails bedazzled and were longer than his temper sometimes with dumbass clients, her nails were a French tip. Her nails were short, too.

They were simple. He liked that. Maybe he’d try and convince her to get those stiletto nails that Hope had been blabbing to him about earlier this morning.

Feeling her temper slowly simmer down, Nera let out a soft sigh.

“Okay. When and where are we going?”

A couple of minutes later, Nera found herself in a car, sitting in the shotgun seat with Lance who was driving. Curtis had informed his boss that he was heading to be with his girlfriend early, so Lance was free to drive his own car in bliss.

The roaring sound of the engine and the flying scenery of Seattle out the window were all Nera acknowledged as she nervously fiddled her thumbs.

When they reached their destination, Nera watched with a horrified expression on her face once she saw the certain store Lance had decided to take her to come into view.

Panic started to settle in her throat.

Nonononono.

Oh fuck her Jesus.

With the most careful, articulated mask of calmness she could muster onto her face to conceal her inner panic, hastily accepted her husband’s hand to help her out of the car.

She hadn’t felt this nervous, this horrified to her stomach since she had found out that some dude from a rival gang had been stalking her for months. Apparently from what Hope had told her, the weirdo dude in question was someone not of high standing, so if he randomly disappeared one day, nobody would really bat an eyelash. After that, Nera made sure to carry a gun in her purse whenever she could.

Unlike that time though, she didn’t want to puke or vomit because she was terrified someone was going to possibly kidnap her or rape her.

Nope.

She was terrified because this store, this goddamn Dior store was expensive as shit.

Yes.

Nera Yang was terrified of the Dior store.

Hahurr was what Maya Hart from that one Disney Channel show liked to say. It worked well in this situation.

Growing up, her family didn’t have a lot of money. They weren’t dirt poor, but they weren’t upper-middle either. Hell, they probably didn’t even count as just middle-class either. They were more of a poor middle class, to be honest. So while Lance had been dripping with wealth due to his background, Nera did not. She always had a budget she followed, and whenever she had gone out with her friends, she wouldn’t spend a lot of money. Hell, she had spent around thirty dollars hanging out with them and once she got home, she felt like absolute shit.

So when she married Lance, she tended to be more laid-back when she spent. Unlike her husband, who wore Armani or Gucci suits— she was usually in causal clothing or her mini dresses.

However, upon gazing up at the Dior sign, she couldn’t help but nervously swallow. She started to nervously play with her fingers again as she walked with Lance into the store. A brunette woman greeted them once they stepped inside.

Every step she took into the store made her feel as if she was walking on eggshells.

“What are we doing here?” she whispered to her husband. “Why are you whispering?’ Was his response.

Again, she nervously swallowed as she gazed around. “I-I,” she stuttered, “I just— I just thought that, well, maybe you’d take me to Target or something. Or… I dunno… let me walk around the mall.”

“Do you guys need some help? Lance heard the brunette stylist ask. “No, not yet.” His baritone voice filled the room. He quickly leaned in close.

“Bunny. I’m not taking you to fuckin’ Target. And I sure as hell aren’t gonna let you wander off into the mall by yourself. Besides, I’m not gonna get fucking caught dead in the public mall. Who fucking knows who could be watching. Your fucking ex could be out to arrest me again. And then he could try and get you back once my ass is in jail. No way.” Lance hissed.

Nera just glared at him. She even scoffed lightly, keeping her voice down. “As if I’d let him fuck me. I’m not into cheating dick bags. He lost the privilege to fuck me when I caught him having a goddamn threesome on my bed with his two other girlfriends. I had to beg my mom to replace it with a new one cause it made me sick.”

It actually had made her sick. For three months, she resisted the urge to sleep in her old bed because all she could remember was seeing her ex-boyfriend go at it with his two other side chicks simultaneously at the same time. As if she didn’t even matter. Like she was nothing. Like she hadn’t been good enough to fuck. Nera had bit down the feeling of physically vomiting in the bathroom until her mom had finally gone out with her to purchase a new bed.

After calling it off with the douche canoe, she had found out years later that he had moved to Seattle and had become a Defense Attorney. It had been a hilarious moment when she had been in one of the interrogation rooms and he had walked in.

The entire room reminded her of one of those Law and Order episodes. Honestly, Nera wasn’t really creeped out. She was totally ready to bail her husband’s ass out of jail. But, she doubted that he needed all the help. After all, he had the best lawyers and defense attorneys.

It didn’t hurt to speed up the process though. Dressed in a sage green mini dress with the golden necklace with the medal hanging on the chain with a pair of mouse flats, and her hair braided, she waited.

And then, the door opened.

“Nera?”

She watched with a cold expression on her face as her ex from literal hell walked into the room.

The dude that had been sitting across from her looked surprised. If she had been the meek little mouse that she had been back when they had been dating, she probably would have wished to sink into the floor.

But not this time.

"Son of a bitch," she greeted coldly. Her phone began to ring in her pocket. Pulling out her iPhone SI Model Two, she pressed the green call button and answered.

“Don’t fucking move. I’m coming.” Andy Barber, Curtis’s cousin, and their personal Defense Attorney spoke through the phone. “Okay. I’ll be waiting here for you. Thanks for letting me know.” Nera replied kindly. After hanging up her phone, she slipped it back into her purse. Before looking up good-naturedly.

“White, get out.” All Nera did was lean back into her seat as her ex barked at the other dude to get out. After watching them squabble for a few seconds, the White dude left, the door closing behind them.

Occupying the same space that White had just been in, she watched as her ex nervously cleared his throat, the Hispanic man looking almost nervous.

It made her eyes narrow.

“Speak asshole, or forever hold your peace.” she snapped at him.

“So… u-um… how have you been doing?” She saw him nervously chuckle. He even rubbed the side of his neck, a thing he used to do back when they used to date back in high school.

She stared at him. Dead on. Right in the face. He was briefly reminded of the current pain in his ass that he was dealing with, also known as the regional crime boss, Lance Tucker.

Nera didn’t even have it in her to be surprised. Or sympathetic towards this dude, this piece of shit.

It surprised no one when she snapped, “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me? ‘How have you been doing?’ Fuck you! You lost the right for me to be nice to you when I caught you fucking your side chicks in my bed! In my childhood bedroom! So no, I’m not telling you how my life’s been! I’m here for my husband.”

Still seething, Nera realized, maybe this was how her husband felt when someone got under his nerves. Granted, she would never have the burning urge to beat the shit out of someone, or worse— possibly even beat the shit out of them until they were near collaspation or death, but she did have an urge to bitch slap the asshole across his face.

“Will you keep your voice down? I know it might be hard for you to— wait, you’re married? To who?” If possible, the douche canoe looked horrified. It was at that moment, that his gaze quickly darted to her left hand, proudly showcasing a gold band on her ring finger. Signifying that yes, she was a married woman.

Nera didn’t answer him. “Like I said, I’m here for my husband. I would like to at least see him,” she spoke, an icy tone in her voice.

Quickly grabbing a hold of his manners, he hurried, “Ms. Yang—“

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” she snapped at him harshly. “I would like to see my husband after our lawyer arrives.”

Just in the nick of time, Andy came through the doors. Nera caught the beard that the brunet man was growing out, and she thought it looked quite nice on him. The beard matched him. Not every man could pull off the beard. She respected that.

Andy Barber strolled in with a hard look in his eyes. Dressed impeccably in his dark navy suit, he looked like a vision. And just like her husband, he commanded the room just as he walked in. He always had that certain air about him. But, Andy always was nice to her. It was nice to see him.

Usually, not in these circumstances, but hey— life was weird.

He made sure to shut the door for privacy as Nera pulled out the chair next to her so he could sit.

“You’re Tucker’s lawyer.” The ex was glaring at him. “Yes, thank you for remembering.” Andy’s crisp tone nearly made Nera snicker into her hand, but she remained poised.

She saw his eyes dart back to her wedding ring. And then back to Andy. He did this a few times before he started blinking rapidly. Andy leaned close to her, whispering in her ear.

“This is the famous ex, huh?” mused Andy playfully. Nera resisted the urge to snort. “Unfortunately.” She watched with pure amusement as a nearly comical look overtook her ex’s face.

“You’re married to Tucker?!” he exclaimed. Shrieked, almost too.

“I’m a very lucky woman.” Nera nodded as Andy was the one to openly snicker.

She watched his horrified face, and then, for the first time that day— she smiled.

Nera couldn’t help but look around the store still.

She didn’t like flexing her money. It always was a fact pushed to the back of her mind that her husband was loaded.

Literally and figuratively.

“I know, I know,” her soft mutters didn’t ease Lance’s storming mood. “I just— I don’t like to…” she swallowed again, “I just… I didn’t marry you for your money.”

“I know that bunny,” Lance told her. “But quite frankly, I don't give a fuck. I like spoiling you. I like seeing you dripping with my wealth. It’s hot.”

Her cheeks flushed. Her lips darted out so she could lick them, something Lance noticed. Shyly, she nodded, clearly conceded.

After watching Nera go aisle to aisle, picking off clothes that she liked, eventually, he found himself sitting on a bench in one of the dressing rooms.

Nera did a quick run-through of all the clothes she had picked out. Dresses, blouses, jeans, skirts— mostly dresses though.

Lance had been in the middle of a call with Hope when Nera’s voice suddenly rang out.

“Lance? Can you help me with this dress?”

“Hope, I gotta call you back. Yes, I’ll bring you food,” Nera could picture her husband openly rolling his eyes in exasperation before he pushed the door handle and opened the door.

He hadn’t been ready for what he was about to see.

The clothes that she had picked out were in two different spots on the two different hangers. Lance suspected one was for good and bad matches. And, in the middle hung a single hanger, which he presumed was for the current dress that Nera was trying on.

The door closed behind him and he made sure to lock it. Nera watched as Lance came from behind her, his hands finding the zipper. The sound of Lance pulling up the zipper was the only noise that filled the room.

“Does it look okay?” Came Nera’s soft voice. The black dress was snug and had a v-neck. It fell just below her knees. Lance’s fingers brushed over the mesh material, making a shudder run down Nera’s spine.

“It looks great on you bunny,” Lance’s low raspy voice sounded in her ear. His breath tickled against the shell of her ear, and this time she visibly shuddered.

“Are you sure it looks okay? I don’t… look fat in it?” Uncertainty laced her voice as Nera herself gazed in the mirror, seeing her reflection. She could see all of her rolls and pudginess. Poking at her own muffin top, Nera frowned at her reflection.

“You don’t look fat in it. You look very fuckable.” Lance deduced. A deep noise came from her in embarrassment. “Lance!” she cried out. Undeterred, Lance went on. “It makes your tits look good too. But I always thought you had great tits.”

At the mention of her aforementioned titties, Nera’s arms reached up to push them up, making them even bigger than they already were. Nera’s tits had been small and she had liked them just fine until her sophomore year had hit. Then boom; suddenly they were freaking huge.

Ever since then, she always had a love/hate relationship with them. Along with the rest of her body.

She had so many rolls that were noticeable by the mini dresses she wore. Despite trying her best to not think about her horrible body insecurities, they always seemed to pop up in the most inconvenient times.

Like right now.

“… thank… you?” Nera tried to thank him, but it came out awkward.

Then all of a sudden, she was suddenly bent over. She scrambled to secure her hands against the mirror so she wouldn’t fall or lose her balance.

Yelping gently, her yelp turned into a little noise of surprise when Lance roughly grabbed a hold of the cotton fabric of her purple skirt and yanked it up.

“Lance, what are you—“ She was cut off by him grabbing a hold of her panties and pulling them to the side. The sudden cool air made her nearly shiver. A deep shudder ran down her spine as she eyed herself in the mirror, a sharp contrast with the man standing behind her. Despite being chubby, she was petite. Small. Hilariously small compared to her husband. Other than having tattoos almost nearly everywhere on his body, he was massive. Even though he had done gymnastics which made him have a leaner body type, after getting in jail a few times, he had worked out. The lean body type he had soon changed into a bulkier, almost beefy stature.

Simply put, she probably looked like a cinnamon twist compared to his beefcake of a self.

“You’re not fat bunny. I don’t ever wanna hear that shit come out of your mouth ever again, you got that?” Lance’s voice had a low edge to it. Like it was a personal attack against him.

When he saw his bunny nervously lick her lips in response, that deep homicidal urge crept back again. That deep urge to just get rid of whoever, whatever was hurting his girl burnt through him like he was a man deeply possessed. His jaw tightened.

“But… I’m…” she protested gently. “You’re what, bunny?” Lance’s hard response had her thighs quivering.

“I-I’m… I’m too big. Everywhere.” Nera’s voice trembled and shook as she visibly swallowed, her eyes transfixed on her body from the mirror. Every roll and pudge of her body was sticking out. Hell, her muffin top was even showing itself too. Proudly showcasing itself all like; sup bitches I am here.

It was quite disheartening in her opinion.

“No. I don’t think so.” Lance’s tone was firm as his free hand crept up and slipped into the fabric of her mint sweater, sneaking in between her bra and roughly grabbing her breast, rolling the gold bars that went across her nipples in his hand.

A small whimper filled the empty room.

“We’re— we’re in public, Lance!” Nera’s hiss didn’t deter him from his mission. Far from it.

“Then you’d better keep your voice down,” Lance’s clap back made her silently glare at him. Not that he really cared. He didn’t. He never had been, nor would he ever be that type of person. Ever.

Shoving three thick fingers inside of her, a low squishing noise filled the room. Nera bit on her tongue, so she could resist the urge to whimper out loud.

“Would you look at that, bunny. Look how wet you are for me. Didn’t know you needed Daddy all that badly.” Lance’s crooning made her flush. Like she was just some awkward teenage girl who was having sex for the first time.

She never usually felt like a blushing virgin, but she felt like it this time.

“Daddy,” the title fell from her lips in a breathless tone as she begged. She even wiggled her ass against him, sucking his fingers deeper into her pussy.

“Needy little bunny. Dripping all over Daddy’s fingers so nicely.” Lance hummed as he slowly pushed his fingers out, watching with a pleased, satisfied look as Nera tried to control herself. He saw the expression on her face change as she chewed on her lip, nearly biting it as her eyes were pleading with him.

“Gotta use your words, bunny. You’re a smart bunny. Tell Daddy what you want.” The gruffness in his voice made the fire that was burning in her belly burn all that much brighter. Hotter. Deeper.

Never had she ever felt this humiliated by him in her entire life. Ever! It was a nuisance! Wordlessly, maybe even, she desperately tried to roll her hips down to create some friction. Anything.

A deep little whimper of frustration came from his little bunny when he pushed more of his body weight onto her, trapping her. Keeping her there.

“No. Don’t move.” His voice was low and the undertone of his voice threatened punishment if she ever dared to make any type of movement. From where she was, bent over with him slotting himself on top of her, her eyes found their reflections in the mirror.

For a second, he looked like the terrifying, fearsome crime boss that everyone whispered about. His eyes were cold and calculating as he watched her look at him.

“Be good, bunny. You’re Daddy’s good little bunny, aren’t you?” His words washed over her like honey.

“Yes.” Her voice was meek. Small.

“Yes, Daddy.”

She heard him crooning. Cooing about what a good bunny she was.

“That’s my good bunny. You’re such an obedient bunny.” His praise made her clench her thighs together. Nearly shuddering, as if she was burned.

When he started to move his fingers in and out of her weeping core, she wasn’t ready. She had not been prepared for the wet, sucking noises. That feeling of her cum just oozing out of her and coating his fingers, making them all slippery. All the while his thumb had found her clit, and he was rubbing it like it was going out of style.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

She was gasping. Or was she mewling? She really didn’t know. Although she did try and keep her voice down, all the while she realized that yes, she was still struggling with keeping her voice down then—

Three fingers shoved themselves into her mouth, silencing her breathy noises of pleasure.

She might have choked a little.

“Needy bunny,” Lance was mocking her. “Can’t even follow simple instructions, can you? How you can take Daddy’s cock in every one of your slutty holes when you can’t even shut that pretty little mouth of yours?”

All he got in response was a muffled, yet slightly gurgled noise. It distinctively sounded like a muffled moan of protest.

However, it did not skirt him off of his current mission.

It truly did not.

Wet, pumping noises continued to squelch out of her as his fingers pumped in and out in earnest. Nera was clearly struggling, as Lance could see through the mirror’s reflection as her eyes brimmed with tears, the feeling of her drool dripping down his fingers, but he didn’t give two shits.

Continuing with his torturous ministrations, his thumb rubbed against her clit every time his fingers managed to find her g-spot. With one last thrust, he curled fingers right up against the spongy spot, making her eyes roll back in pleasure.

Pleasure erupted in her belly as she barely realized her climax. Her thighs shook and trembled tremulously, her entire body shuddering and shaking. The barely acknowledged wet, sucking noises of Lance prolonging her orgasm hardly reached her ears as he helped her ride it out.

Even when he took his fingers out of her and put them in his mouth to taste, she was still shaking. Trembling. Quaking in her boots, as the young Maggie Townsend would say.

"There you go, bunny. Now you're being the best little bunny."

Drool dripped down the corners of her mouth as Nera was reduced to a blabbing, drooling mess. Taking his fingers out of his mouth, he licked his lips before he leaned in towards her ear.

"What do we say to Daddy, sweet thing?" Lance crooned in her ear.

"Thank you, Daddy." was all Nera managed to mumble shyly. Lance pressed a soft kiss against her sweaty forehead.

"You're welcome, bunny." His praise made her thighs clench again. Surveying her in the black dress with a raised eyebrow, he hummed. “It looks good on you, bunny. Let’s buy that.”

“This one?” Nera managed to stutter in shock. She finally turned back to him, a complete look of surprise overwriting her features.

There was his bunny.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “It’s ruined!” Nera’s shrill clap back made him smirk. “Okay? And?” Was his counter.

Hastily wiping her mouth with a tissue she got out of her purse, Nera glared at him. It was cute. There she was, the light of his life, his treasure, his little wife, his bunny— in her five-foot-one chubby stature glaring at him. As if he was going to be intimidated. As if she really thought he could make her comply with his wishes.

He could.

But it was cute that she was putting in the effort.

“Don’t worry bunny, I’ll get one in your size. Change. I’ll meet you up at the cashier.”

After Nera had gotten dressed, she met up with Lance who was already standing at the cashier. She put the black dress, along with some other clothes that had been in the good to buy pile down.

The beeping sounds of your clothes being scanned through the scanner were all she heard. As the price grew more expensive with every beep, Nera started to chew on her bottom lip in nervousness.

“Okay, your total will be—“

“Wait. I forgot to add one.”

Lance threw in the ruined dress. Nera swore she never wanted the ground to swallow her whole than in this moment.

“A-Alright then,” Lance saw the stylist chuckle, probably out of surprise. With one final beep, the total flashed onto the screen.

Once they finished getting the clothes, Nera finally stepped out into the open air, deeply inhaling.

Lance came next to her, absolutely wearing the proudest smirk on his face. Like the damn little shit that he was.

“Come on, bunny. You didn’t think we’d stop at just Dior, did you?”

Later that night…

If Nera was going to be honest with herself, she had no fucking idea what time it was.

Did she know that the sun had gone down?

Yup.

Did she know if she had managed to eat dinner?

… Somewhat.

But what she did know was that she was draped over the kitchen counter in the luxurious apartment that she shared with Lance. Bent over all the way till her feet dangled, her elbows were on the counter as Lance was pounding her ass like it was his last day on this godforsaken green earth.

Really, what had her life come to at this point?

Hell if she fucking knew.

She probably couldn’t remember what her name was at this point. Forget knowing how to write it. Ancestors help her if she even remembered her Hmong name at this point either. She just knew deep in her gut that was currently getting rearranged that she would probably not be walking solidly for the next couple of days.

Weeks, maybe? Maybe one week? Or two?

Who knew, and who really fucking cared.

Nera was gasping. Crying out. Becoming a blabbering mess, because not only was Lance going to fucking town on her ass, this little fucker also had a hand in her slopping mess of a pussy, rubbing circle after circle on her abused clit.

She was totally going to go to the spa after this. She deserved to have her back massaged and turned into a slinky before she delved into joys of the flesh with her husband for the next three months.

The marbled countertop felt cool against her body, and her nipple piercings were pressed down too.

Oh yeah.

She was heading to the fucking spa after this shit.

Feeling his sweat mix with hers, Nera grunted and her eyes rolled into the back of her head when the piercing on the head of his cock hit her g-spot just right. It was like scratching that particularly good itch.

And with that, she was suddenly coming. White exploded in her vision, and a ringing echoed in her ears as her orgasm overtook her. Nera’s body jerked and twisted, a euphoric feeling flooding her veins. Lance groaned, even grunted against the side of her neck as his body inwardly shuddered at the feeling of being able to feel his wife’s orgasm. Her pussy still was clamped down on his erection, but it was still throbbing. His teeth nearly sank into her neck when his balls tightened, expelling all of his cum inside of her. Emptying until he had nothing else to give, whatever he had put in her ass leaked out of her pussy and was trickling down her legs.

For a couple of moments, all they did was try and catch their breath.

“Fuck’s sake…” breathed Nera as her vision finally stopped spinning. Catching her breath, she deeply inhaled and exhaled. To her surprise, when she got off of the counter, her legs were still in working order.

Just when they had got their clothes back on, there was frantic banging on the door.

The front door.

“Are one of your dudes coming by?” Nera was bewildered. “No,” replied Lance, suddenly looking confused. Her feet smack smacking against the hardwood floors, the Hmong woman made her way to the front door.

Flipping the locks, the door swung open.

“Oh thank freaking God!” A young, Hmong woman cried out. She looked panicked. “I had to run around town asking for your address! Thank goodness Gina gave me your address before he caught onto me.”

Nera looked gobsmacked.

“What are you talking about?” Was all she managed to say. Pulling her cousin by her arm, Lance watched in utter confusion as Nera tugged the brunette woman inside. Poking her head out, she looked both ways before slamming the door shut. Making sure to lock the top and bottom, her voice rang out.

“Lance, can you get my cousin a bottle of water?’

Looking like he had been slapped back to reality, Lance made a beeline to the pantry to get the bottle of water. Nera’s cousin took off her comfy converses at the door, led to the couch by her older cousin.

“What brings you to Seattle?” Nera asked kindly. Trying to desperately ignore the combined semen and arousal that was trailing down her thighs.

“I moved here recently. Six months ago, for my new job. I work at a tech company,” her cousin explained. Nodding along, her cousin continued to speak her tale. “But a month ago, I was set up on this blind date with this dude. He said he worked at the Defense Attorney's Office or something?”

There was a loud crash in the pantry. Both women turned to find the source of the noise.

“Sorry! That was an accident!” Lance’s voice shouted out.

“Anyway…” her cousin had an awkward look on her face. “It was okay. Dinner, I mean. It was okay. But then he… started acting all weird. Like a total weirdo. He asked me if I knew you, and then when I told him you were my cousin, he flipped out on me. Then, and then, I found out the asshole was pleasuring himself under the table. So I threw my tea in his face and now I’m forever banned from that restaurant,” your cousin sighed mournfully.

Nera’s face had gone white as a sheet.

“Nera? Hey, are you okay?” her cousin’s voice had tuned out to become white noise as a ringing noise echoed in her ears.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck…” were the only words she could utter, a look of pure horror on her face.

“Nera?” Her cousin tried again. Lance had gotten out of the pantry, a murderous look on his face as he tossed the water bottle in her cousin’s direction. Thanks to her quick reflexes, she caught it pretty easily. But she was still concerned for her older cousin. “Nera? Are you okay? Do you need water, or…”

Nera quickly grabbed her cousin by the shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes. “The douche canoe’s name. What was his name?”

Her cousin’s face dropped to a scowl.

Then, she uttered the name that Nera loathed in every bone in her body.

“That dude you had a blind date with, that was unfortunately the ex douche canoe. And I don’t think he’s done shitting on my life. I think I’m going to need to go to war.”

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