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almostempty · 1 month ago

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FYBF (javier x f!reader)

(javier x f!reader) | wc: 4.8k | other fics |

javier takes you home to prove that he can fuck you better than your boyfriend

this pwp was inspired by me having FYBF stuck in my head and the line "I prolly wouldn't treat you better, but I'd do you better"

tags/warnings: 18+ gratuitous smut, infidelity!, no condom, no editing, no y/n, no plot

🎤 i just wanna say that this one goes out to a special baddie and i hope she likes it when she reads it (happy belated bday @gothcsz this for u)

He can’t take his eyes off of you. Every time the lights flash, illuminating your glowy skin and the fluid roll of your hips to the music, he tries to see everything all at once. Tries to map your body, plan exactly how he’d make you sing for him.

You’re a vision. Feminine and fierce in a way that calls to him. The balance to his masculinity and the tenderness that he wears on his sleeve.

You aren’t alone. Your friends are gorgeous too. The two of them surround you, smiling, twirling, and mirroring your rhythm. The three of you dance like the rest of the room is watching; like the rest of the room doesn’t exist.

You’re a playful trio, a dangerous trio. Grinding against each other. Bouncing between each other easily. Maybe you’re more than friends, he wonders, as you tease each other, tangling limbs, and winding your sweating bodies together. You all have magnetic energy. A gravity. The rest of the room orbits around the three of you.

But, Javier is drawn to you. You’re graceful, yet powerful. Devastatingly sensual. He leans against the bar, shifting his weight on his feet, and wetting his lips. He surveys the rest of the club but always comes back to you. It’s dark, loud, and hot with all of the bodies in the building.

He knows it’s a slim chance–interrupting the three of you–maybe this is your girl’s night out or something. But then, the song changes to something more melodic. You thread your arms over your head, accentuating the lines of your body, exposing your smooth skin and your curves.

You might as well have a spotlight on you like it’s your revenge dance in a romance film.

Javier’s fingers are itching to touch you. He can feel the weight of your tits in his palms, taste the soft spot at the hinge of your jaw on his tongue, and feel the swell of your ass rubbing against —

Yeah, his dick can feel it, too. Twitching in his jeans. Javier tightens the fist at his side and he slams down the last of his drink. Discarding it on the bar without a glance backward. He can’t turn away from you; he refuses to lose sight of you.

Your dress ripples, shining when the light hits you as you shift. It looks like it would be soft and slippery to the touch. Just like the rest of you. As your eyes shut and you sway, he decides you’re a fucking killer. You could take him apart moving just like that—but on his lap. You could end him with a look, fuck, he wants to see for himself.

He’s on the move now. Compelled. You see him, running your eyes over his body. It’s like a rose-colored path pulls him closer with every step. Javier knows it’s his chance to strike.

He’s on you in a second, slipping in front of you with a compliment and asking, like a gentleman, if you’d give him a song. He doesn’t miss the way you run your eyes down his body and back to meet his gaze. You like what you see, baby? It hangs on his tongue and crooked grin.

“Sorry,” you murmur into his ear, not slowing down the roll of your body. “I’ve got a boyfriend.” You grip the back of his head tightly, fingers woven into his hair. As if the strength of your grip is the only thing keeping your lips from finding each other. As if sharing the same breath with your noses nearly brushing each other isn’t intimate.

“A boyfriend,” he repeats, not backing off. The club is dark, loud, and filled with hot, sweaty bodies. But when he dips closer and his lips brush your ear, you can hear every ounce of lust and challenge behind his next words. “If you really want him, why are you apologizing?” His rich voice makes your veins buzz.

“Seems like you’re wanting me,” you retort in a silky voice, “I can’t be what you need.” He runs his wide hands down your sides, wrapping around your waist. It’s all too much, but fuck, you can’t stop. Proving your point, he guides you, and you’re pliant for him. He turns you, pulling your hips towards his until the swell of your ass rubs along the hard line of his cock. “Fuck,” you breathe out, imperceptibly.

“Just once,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making your skin prickle and your resolve falter. “Just tonight.” You almost laugh, almost scoff, but his hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements like he’s already claimed you. The thrill of it, of how badly he wants you, sends a shiver down your spine.

“Just once,” you repeat, but it doesn’t come out sharp or mocking. It sounds like surrender.

He tilts your head back, making you meet his eyes. His gaze is molten, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk that’s too knowing. “When you want more, we’ll figure it out,” he says, so confident, so sure, it makes your chest tighten.

The nerve. The arrogance. You should roll your eyes, but instead, you find yourself staring at his lips, imagining how they’d feel.

“You think you can treat me better?” you ask, your voice sharp, deflecting, desperate to push him away before you actually fall into him.

“Nah,” he admits with a small shake of his head, his honesty so casual it catches you off guard. It shouldn’t make you laugh, but it does, softly, a sound that feels dangerously like complicity.

“But I’ll fuck you better,” he adds, dead serious, the weight of his words crashing down on you.

Your breath hitches. Your cunt clenches around nothing, suddenly feeling devastatingly empty. Your body answers him before your mind can catch up. Rubbing against him, searching for more.

Your silence stretches, but it doesn’t feel like victory. It feels like a test. Javier’s smirk deepens as if he already knows how this is going to end. His thumb brushes over your jawline, a featherlight touch that juxtaposes the ferocity in his gaze.

“You know it’s true,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with amusement. “Your boyfriend,” he pauses, letting the word linger like an insult, “doesn’t even know how to make you look like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking about how fast you can get me alone,” he says, cocky and unrelenting. Javier’s fingers slide lower, skimming across your waist. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You don’t. You can’t.

“You think you’re irresistible?” you fire back, your voice sharp, trying to cut through the haze he’s wrapping around you.

“I think you want to find out,” he murmurs, his lips hovering near yours. “I think you’ll let me prove it.”

The heat in your stomach coils tighter. You want to push him away, but your body betrays you, pressing closer instead. His scent—spicy and rich—wraps around you like a trap. The club feels suffocating, the music distant. All you can focus on is him.

“Quit playing,” you mutter, though your voice lacks conviction. “You’re not that good.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression equal parts amused and predatory. “Let me show you.”

Before you can answer, or argue, he grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. His grip is firm but not forceful, the silent question in his eyes daring you to say no.

The rational part of you screams to stop this. But the rest of you? The part that’s been craving something more? That part wants to find out if he really is as good as he claims.

You part from him briefly, giving your friends a flimsy excuse. Then, turning back without a word, you let him lead you out of the club.

The car ride is quiet but electric. His hand stays on your thigh the entire time, the pressure just enough to keep your pulse racing. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t need to. The smug tilt of his mouth says it all: he knows he’s won.

When you get to his place, he steps aside to let you in first. The door closes with a soft click, sealing the tension between you.

“You want this?” he asks, leaning casually against the wall, like he’s giving you a choice but fully expecting your answer.

You should leave. Go him to your empty apartment. Call your boyfriend. But instead, you turn to Javier, arching a brow. “Your mouth only good for talking?”

His grin sharpens, all teeth and promise. "Oh, I’m gonna ruin you." He pushes off the wall, arms unfolding and drawing you right toward his broad frame. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his body like a slow-moving tide, pulling you under.

Before you can fire back, he’s on you. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, and a shiver runs through you at the contact. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every inch of you hyperaware of him, of the weight of his hands on your skin, the hardness of him pressing against your stomach.

His lips find your neck first, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your skin, his breath warm and intoxicating. Your pulse quickens. His touch is so deliberate. Knowing. His hands are everywhere—spanning your waist, sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him, holding you like he can’t get enough.

You feel the desire flooding through you, the way your body melts into his with such ease. You should stop. You should push him away, tell him you don’t need this. But then his fingers dig into you, and your body responds before your brain can catch up. His grip on you is possessive, like he owns you already. You can’t fight it. You don’t want to fight it.

He walks you backward until you’re leaning against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest. You swallow, trying to steady yourself, but you feel weak. And then, he drops to his knees in front of you and you think you might actually combust.

“You look good up there,” he teases, his voice husky, low. God, it does something to you when he speaks like that. His hands push up your skirt, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away. You don’t. You won’t. He pulls your panties down and you’re on fire, aching for him. “But you’re gonna look better after you come for me.”

The words make your cunt throb. Before you can think to respond, his mouth is on you. His tongue glides against you, the first slow, deliberate swipe making your knees buckle. You gasp, an involuntary sound that escapes your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He works you over, teasing and tasting, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Every stroke of his tongue feels like a sin, a slow burn that builds in the pit of your stomach.

His grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your flesh, and you realize he’s holding you steady, keeping you in place. His hands feel so sure, so confident, pulling you deeper into him, his lips pressing against you with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

He doesn’t rush. Of course he doesn’t. Javier never rushes. He seems determined to take his time, to savor every moment, like he’s proving a point. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his teasing strokes making you dizzy and needy.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he murmurs against you, the vibration of his voice pulling you in deeper. His breath fans across your skin, setting you alight, as he pulls back just enough to look up at you. Maddeningly confident, lips glistening from how wet he’s had you all night, his smirk is predatory. A warning. A promise.

A sight you know you won’t forget.

“Already forgetting how to talk?”

You steady yourself against the wall, trying to summon some strength, some defiance, but your body is already betraying you. The heat in your core is almost unbearable now, and every flick of his tongue only makes it worse. You bite your lip, your eyes meeting his, willing yourself not to give in completely.

“You think this is enough to ruin me? That you proved anything just by getting on your knees?” you challenge, your voice surprisingly steady, though your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t want to admit it, that you’re already close, that you’ll be getting off to the memory of his lips wrapped around your clit for weeks.

His eyes darken, a predatory glint flashing in them. He doesn’t say a word, just grins. Slow, knowing, and dangerous the curve of his lips has you swallowing hard. He presses in closer, his body a wall of heat against yours. “Oh, no,” he says, his voice low and dark with promise. “This is just the beginning.”

You’d roll your eyes at him for being cliche, but he dips his head back down and you know that he’s right. You’re already lost, and it’s too late to turn back now.

His tongue and lips work with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He alternates between broad, sweeping strokes and more focused attention that sends lightning through your veins. The slick heat of his mouth is overwhelming, and every time you think you’ve hit your limit, he finds a new way to drag you closer to the edge.

Your hands find his hair, tangling in the soft strands, holding him to you like you’d collapse if he stopped. “Fuck,” you breathe, your voice breaking as his teeth graze you lightly, just enough to make your hips jerk.

“Easy,” he chides, pulling back just enough to flash that debased smirk. His face is flushed with exertion and the sight alone nearly undoes you. “Stay with me.”

You manage a shaky laugh, tugging at his hair in retaliation. “Still right here,” you bite out, your voice laced with defiance.

His tongue works you in slow, torturous circles. He moans against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and the sheer pleasure of it has you arching into him, chasing the friction he’s so generously giving.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you impossibly closer. “I could stay here all night.”

The thought makes your knees threaten to give out, and he notices, of course he does. His hands shift, one sliding up to steady you.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you whisper, your voice a desperate plea.

He chuckles darkly, the sound muffled against you. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

And true to his word, he doesn’t let up, working you over with a skill and focus that makes you dizzy. Every flick of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, every hot, open-mouthed kiss drives you higher and higher until you’re trembling. He adds his fingers, increasing the pressure, and multiplying the intensity. He uses them expertly, fucking into you with them and working in tandem with his mouth to flood your senses.

When you hit a peak that makes your muscles spasm, and euphoric waves radiate through you, it’s not quiet. It’s a gasping, desperate sound that echoes in the room, and the satisfaction in his eyes as he watches only makes it ring deeper in your ears.

Before you can catch your breath, he rises to his feet, his lips curling into that same cocky smirk that got you here in the first place. “Told you,” he says, his voice low and rough, like he’s savoring every second.

“Not bad,” you manage, though your voice wavers as you lean back against the wall for support.

“Not bad?” he repeats, his grin turning wolfish. He steps closer, his body pressing against yours.

Javier doesn’t let you recover. He brings you to his bed, stripping clothes off in such a frenzy you don’t get the chance to really admire him. He’s urgent. On a mission. Pulling you on top of him and hooking his hands under your thighs.

“Come here,” he orders, his voice a low, commanding growl. “I’m not done.”

You start to protest, but he’s already moving, guiding you down onto him as he lies back against the mattress. He looks up at you, with clear desire, his hands gripping your hips like he owns you.

“Ride my face,” he murmurs, his voice so dark it’s a weapon. “Don’t get shy now.”

The challenge in his eyes leaves no room for hesitation. You settle over him, your thighs wobbly as his mouth finds you again. This time, there’s nothing gentle about it, he’s relentless. Encouraging you to move, to use him, to drown him underneath you.

The sheer intensity of it makes your head fall back, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. The way he groans against you sends vibrations through your core until you’re barely able to hold yourself upright.

“I’m close,” you gasp, your voice raw and desperate.

That spurs him on. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements, and when you finally break, it’s hot, overwhelming, and all-consuming. You collapse forward, panting, as he slowly eases you down from the high, his lips and tongue still working gently, reverently.

When you manage to lift your head, his grin is smug, his lips shining as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “How was that?” he asks, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Am I still all talk?”

You glare weakly at him, but the fire in your chest betrays you. “Shut up,” you mutter, collapsing beside him on the bed.

But Javier isn’t done. He shifts above you, his body covering yours, his weight pinning you down in a way that makes you feel deliciously trapped. His hands roam your skin like he’s memorizing every curve. He presses kisses to your shoulders, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, murmuring soft, filthy praises between each one.

He notices how sensitive you are and you can hear the delight in his discovery. “You like that,” he declares. You can only hum in agreement as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. He takes his time, testing the ways you respond to his fingers, tongue, and teeth. He’s quick, learning exactly what makes you gasp and whine.

Repeatedly working you up with soft swirls of his tongue over your hard nipples and rough pinches that make you squirm. He uses his teeth sparingly, but with finesse, keeping you on edge.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, his voice rough with awe.

Your breath stutters, his words striking something deep, but before you can respond, his mouth is on yours. His kiss is a slow burn, deliberate, his tongue darting out to taste yours.

“Not perfect,” you whisper.

Javier lifts his head, his dark eyes piercing. “Wrong,” he purrs, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “You’re perfect for me. I’ll make you believe it.”

Without another word, he’s back down between your legs, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the juncture of your thighs. His tongue is hot and insistent, dragging every ounce of pleasure from you with ruthless efficiency.

He groans against you and your back arches off the mattress, a helpless cry spilling from your lips. “There she is,” Javier murmurs, his voice muffled but dripping with smug satisfaction. “Let me hear it.”

“Please,” you gasp, your hands gripping his hair, holding him to you greedily. He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through your body. “Please, what?”

You need him to get over his oral fixation and fuck you already, but you can’t find the words and your hands can’t seem to let go. He’s relentless and tapped into some sort of self-restraint and stamina you couldn’t fathom. You strain your neck, tipping your chin to your chest to watch him work.

You can’t tell if he’s this set on getting you off on his tongue to prove his merit to you, or if it’s more for him at this point. He uses everything. Nose, lips, tongue, chin. Inundating you with all of him. With one wide, heavy hand splayed across your lower stomach, he keeps you in place. His other hand keeps your thigh spread wide for him.

What does ruin you–that you would never admit to him–has nothing to do with his mouth or his hands. It’s when you prop yourself up on your elbows, and you can see his hips rutting slowly into the mattress. It makes your eyes roll back. It confirms how badly he wants you in a way that feels more raw and vulnerable than any words he could say.

That knowledge obliterates you. Stealing your breath, and any control you have over your own muscles. You sink, body rolling and contracting with relief and satisfaction. Javier doesn’t stop. He rides out your high, his tongue and lips coaxing aftershocks that leave you breathless and whimpering.

You relax, your hazy, pleasure-drunk mind is quiet and empty for a moment. He takes advantage of your pause, his fingers stroking over your sensitive skin, making you jolt, gasping his name.

His hand slides between your thighs, fingers slick and knowing as they stroke over the spot that has you gasping, your resolve crumbling with every second. “Javier,” you choke out, louder this time, your back arching off the bed.

“I know,” he murmurs, satisfaction dripping from his voice. The sound sends a thrill through you. He kneels between your legs, his body so broad and overwhelming as his hands grip your hips, positioning you just right. His cock presses against you, teasing, demanding, too much, too soon, yet it feels like the only thing your body craves.

He shifts his hips slightly, and the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. Your breath hitches. You feel the heat of him, the weight, the promise of how he intends to ruin you.

“Going to make sure you don’t forget me,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, and your body responds to the dominance in his words, buzzing for what’s next. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch. His eyes never leave yours, dark and intense, watching you as if he can see straight into your soul.

Holy fuck. The stretch is overwhelming but it feels so right, so perfect. Every nerve is on fire, each sensation magnified as he moves deeper. God, he feels good. Sinking in so slowly, you can’t breathe, can’t think. Just the feeling of him inside you, claiming you completely.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, the vibrations of his voice reverberating through you. “I want you to remember every second of this. Every inch of me.”

You try to hold on, but it’s impossible. His voice is lethal. The heat of his body against yours, the way his cock fills you completely—it’s all you can do to stay lucid, but you want more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your head falling back as he reaches the end of you, as deep inside of you as he can get. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.

Javier groans, the sound almost painful. Hungry. His hands grip your hips like he’s holding himself back, the tension in his body taut, coiled, ready to snap. He’s holding back? The thought is enough to make you moan again.

“Perfect for me. Just like I knew you would be.”

The words make your walls clench and flutter around him. He’d use that against you if he wasn’t trying desperately to keep it together now that he knows what it feels like to be inside of you. There’s nowhere to look to steady himself. Your face glows, drunk from the orgasms and his praise, your tits glisten with sweat and his saliva–he slams his eyes shut only to see every detail of you just the same. Another deep breath and he presses on.

His pace is slow at first. Sawing into you with torturous precision. Each thrust designed to make you feel all of him.

It doesn’t stay slow for long. His pace picks up, a steady rhythm that makes you writhe. You want to beg, but you don’t know what it is you need. He gives it to you hard, hips snapping as he grunts from the effort. Knocking all of the guilt you’d been smothering right out of your mind.

His force overwhelms you, destroying you with bliss and a floaty time-warping joy. Altering your future, distantly you know you’ll be forever changed because of him.

He doesn’t stop. Oblivious to the seismic impact he’s having on your pussy and future.

He shifts his position, pulling you upright with effortless strength. Just like in the club as he rolled against you, you fit together so perfectly it’s obscene. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, mindless as he fills you with his cock again, deeper at this new angle. You’re at his mercy. Intoxicated by the way his length tortures every nerve inside of you.

His face is still steeped in concentration and satisfaction, but there’s something else that makes you study his eyes. The more of a mess you are the more his pride swells, but it’s not about proving his point to you. It’s about proving something to himself. A whisper of vulnerability hides behind his words. You’re too out of it to understand what it means. Just aware there’s something more.

“You feel that?” he growls, using his deliciously bruising grip to give you the support to bounce along his cock. His lips brush your ear as you flicker between the sensory overload and the clawing, hot need to come again. “This is what you’ve been missing. What you’ll be thinking about when you’re with him.”

You know he’s right. You can only nod your head, chanting yes in rhythm with his hips snapping into you.

You bury your face in his neck, your breath coming out in short, desperate bursts, the sweet torture of him driving you wild. His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit and rubbing, and you break again, your body shattering, surrendering to him.

Your nails rake down his back, desperate for release, as you bounce against his slick, toned body.

But he’s not done. On a warpath. If he only gets one night, he’s going to make it a guarantee.

He lays you back down with a shift of his body, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift your hips, angling you perfectly. The new position sends you into another realm, your body is his and all he wants to do is wring out every last ounce of pleasure within you. Over and over again.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice low, rough, and dangerous. You force your eyes open, your gaze meeting his, dark and hungry, and in that moment, you know there’s no turning back.

“I want to see your face when you come for me.”

Each word will be etched into your mind forever. When you dream of him, when you touch yourself, every time you close your eyes.

His thumb presses against your clit again; it’s rapturous. You come undone beneath him, your body trembling violently, your voice hoarse as you call out his name and a string of curses.

He follows seconds later with a broken groan. He buries himself deep, giving himself over to you, his cock pulsing with the same urgency to fill you as your cunt clenches in desperation to milk him dry.

He collapses onto his forearms above you, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as you both come down, the room heavy with the sound of your ragged breathing.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Breathe.”

The affection and tenderness soothe something deep within you, and for a moment, all you can do is bask in the connection and the depth of something you can’t name. Until it shifts.

The haze begins to clear, reality creeps back in.

His laugh is low and dangerous, a sound of pure victory.

Javier shifts beside you, his hand sliding possessively over your hip, but your mind is already racing.

Panic bubbles up in your chest as you sit up, reaching for your clothes. Javier watches you with a satisfied smirk, clearly unbothered by your sudden urgency.

“You don’t want to stay?” he teases, his voice lazy and smug.

You shoot him a sharp look, your hands trembling as you smooth down your dress. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but he sees through you.

“Maybe,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze raking over you with dark amusement. “But you’ll still think about me when you see him.”

His words hit like a gut punch, and you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to stop thinking about him.

“See you Monday?” he says, his tone deceptively casual, but the smirk on his face is anything but.

Your stomach flips at the reminder. Monday. At work. Where Javier works. Where your boyfriend works.

General tags in case y'all want some javi smut too 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

#javier peña smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #pwp fic #smut smut smut

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hollybell51 · 2 years ago

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Don't bet on it

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?”

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful.

“(Y/N)?”

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine.

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?”

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?”

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added.

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.”

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.”

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression.

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly.

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once.

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink.

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily.

You smiled. “Lemonade.”

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently.

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter.

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly.

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.”

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left.

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them?

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.”

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you.

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing.

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing.

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows.

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him.

“It is.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.”

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.”

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright”

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking.

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you.

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.”

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?”

“No, we’ve got two singles.”

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.”

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.”

“I know, but–”

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

“What’s that supposed to–”

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.”

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed.

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.”

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant.

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched.

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault.

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab.

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.”

“Should I keep going?”

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad.

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead.

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.”

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you.

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?”

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).”

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to.

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his.

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade.

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound.

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright.

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it.

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.”

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses.

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing.

He looked up, frowning. “What?”

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.”

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside.

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters.

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused.

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips.

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering.

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.”

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…”

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed.

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.”

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away.

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?”

He nodded.

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he murmured.

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him?

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him.

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment.

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.”

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?”

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked.

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.”

He stared. “Do you want to?”

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath…

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?”

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.”

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you.

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life.

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?”

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that.

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful.

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake.

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.”

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning.

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before.

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to.

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that.

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out.

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…”

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled.

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.”

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes.

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright?”

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip.

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat.

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?”

You smiled. “Magic word?”

“Please,” he practically growled.

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute.

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.”

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure.

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade.

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely.

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.”

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless.

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.”

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright.

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face.

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting.

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?”

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?”

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.”

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.”

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning.

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body.

“Mhm.”

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.”

“I want you to feel–”

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?”

“But I’m–”

“Cas.”

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you.

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.”

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy.

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit.

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked.

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, Cas, just like that.”

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.”

“Is this alright?�� he asked mildly.

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?”

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing.

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said.

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine.

Cas froze immediately.

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.”

“Is this not–”

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs.

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small.

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face.

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.”

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.”

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged.

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable.

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to squash you.”

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.”

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?”

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out.

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.”

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed.

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours.

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?”

He swallowed, his eyes dark.

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.”

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?”

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time.

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?”

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name.

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that.

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs.

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!”

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra.

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm.

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.”

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.”

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be.

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch.

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed.

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?”

After a moment, he nodded.

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again.

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.”

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?”

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty.

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.”

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.”

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him.

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much.

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

“Hello.”

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).”

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.”

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully.

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…”

He waited, watching you stumble over your words.

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen.

“What do you want?” you growled.

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?”

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.”

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?”

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked.

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden.

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt.

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.”

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.”

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question.

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier.

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point.

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!”

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth.

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing.

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.”

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam?

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck.

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.”

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything.

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.”

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.”

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.”

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared.

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.”

“No? Who else?”

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now.

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.”

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all.

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas.

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.”

“No, I mean–”

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.”

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?”

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug.

Cas frowned. “Told him what?”

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!”

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.”

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?”

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas.

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.”

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.”

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?”

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.”

“Mhm, back at Stanford–”

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.”

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.”

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly.

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back.

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.”

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

4K notes · View notes

melancholymetropolis · 9 months ago

Text

Exchange pt. III

plot: In which Gojo and Y/N wake up together and have morning sex

pairings: Clan Leader!Gojo Saturo x Lawyer!Reader

genre(s): Porn with Feelings

warnings: unedited (mostly). PORN PORN PORN!!!!!!!!!! (This is kinda stand-alone piece) safe sex. oral sex (f receiving). light choking. multiple positions. fingering. squirting. PIV SEX. pet names (sweetheart, sweetness, darling, etc.) multiple orgasms. LAUGHING DURING SEX. lowkey rom com vibes. play wrestling.

song association: Fetish by Selena Gomez

a/n: don't fight me! I come with smut (3k words worth)

w.c: 4.6k

part(s): Part I Part II

A head of unruly, white hair rested comfortably on my chest. Gentle breaths eased out of the owner's nostrils as he slept peacefully. Parted, pink lips were left slightly ajar and pushed out a deep breath every so often. A pool of drool fell from the mouth as well. It created a medium size spot on my tee shirt. His strong arms were wrapped around my midsection and one of his legs was resting between mine. Saturo held onto me like I was his lifeline. The very oxygen gracing his lungs. Even in his sleep, the man couldn't fake his affection for me.

My hand found his hair moments later. My fingertips caressed the thick, full locks tenderly. He was truly something of a fairy tale. His face was almost angelic in the low light. It kissed his pale skin like a lover and embraced him with a fondness I knew all too well. Wispy, white lashes graced his drowsy eyes. My hand lowered from his hair and to his cheek. My fingers brushed against the smooth, clear skin of the area.

“Keep touching me like that,” Saturo grunted, nuzzling my chest. “And I'll get the wrong idea.”

A soft smile fell onto my lips. “And what idea is that?”

“That you're falling in love with me.” Amusement dripped from his voice like a faucet.

I playfully swatted the top of his head. “Oh shut up!”

He lifted his head from my chest in one swift motion. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light and that sleepy smile stabbed me in the heart.

Holy fuck is he gorgeous, I found myself thinking.

“Admit it, sweetheart,” he teased. “You’re falling in love with me. I mean why else would you invite me to your bed.”

“Maybe because it was 3 AM when we finished eating?” I suggested, a smile falling to my lips. “And you shouldn’t be driving while exhausted?”

He paused, pretended to think for a minute, before shooting me the cockiest fucking look I had ever seen in my life. “It could be that,” he started. “Or, you were just so worried about your husband’s well being that you wanted him to sleep safely in your arms for the night.”

“Boy, bye!” I chuckled, pushing against his shoulders. “Now you’re dragging it.”

Saturo lifts his body from mine and I instantly felt a cooling sensation dance between the space.

“Come on, wifey,” he grinned. “You don’t have to hide feelings from your husband.”

I shoved at his shoulders again. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna kick you off the bed.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” he provoked.

A knowing smirk fell on my lips. “Challenge accepted.”

Before Saturo could throw a snide comment my way, both of my legs hooked around his waist. At the same time, my arms latched underneath his pits. I swung our bodies to the left, effectively switching our positions. I straddled his waist, allowing my lower half to pin his legs to the bed. I placed both hands on his T-shirt covered chest and pinned his upper half down as well. His blue eyes widened with utter astonishment, fear and a little something else I couldn’t exactly catch.

“Fuck, you’re stronger than I thought,” he gasped, eyes trailing over my body. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. “I was not expecting that. Like at all…. Shit. I think you took my breath away. Literally.”

Laughter erupted from my chest and poured from my lips. “Well, there's a first time for everything.”

His hands rested on my thighs, a look of amazement still on his face. “Seriously, sweetheart, is there something you're not telling me.”

“Like what?” I giggled.

“I don't know. . . Like maybe you have a secret second life that requires you to be as strong a fucking body builder.”

“Seriously, ‘Toru, you're being ridiculous.”

“I'm not being— wait. What did you just say?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That you're being ridiculous?”

“Before that,” a smile slowly formed on his face.

“Seriously?”

“After that.”

“I didn't say anything—”

“Don't deny it, sweetness,” the smile was so wide that it practically covered half of his face. “You called me by my first name.”

“I did no such thing!” I crossed my arms over my chest and playfully avoided his gaze.

“Not only that,” he replied, lifting his back from the bed. “You gave me a nickname.”

“No I did not—ah!”

Saturo flipped our bodies back to their original position, with him on top. His massive hand took hold of both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. His knees rested on either side of my thighs, caging my body underneath his. Saturo used his other hand to cradle my face and direct my gaze directly into his eyes. They were electric blue, once again. They shined brightly before me in a way I had only seen twice before. Once at the wedding and the other last night in the restaurant. They searched my face for something I couldn't necessarily pick up. Some truth hidden beneath the surface that I was too scared to reveal. The longer he stared, the deeper the ringing in my ear sounded.

“Say it again,” his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Say what?” I smirked, pulling at my wrists.

“Playing coy is gonna get you in trouble, sweetheart,” he replied, returning my smirk. “I'd watch it if I were you.”

“And what exactly are you gonna do, Ole husband of mine?” I replied, a lustful glint in my eye. “Spank me?”

His jaw clenched and the grip on my wrists tightened. “Please don't threaten me with a good time, sweetness.” He shivered, visibly. “I'll have you on my lap before that cute little nickname leaves your lips a second time.”

“Is that a promise?” I said, allowing my eyes to drop half lidded.

Saturo sucked in a breath and he clenched his jaw. “I am trying my best to behave. To be the gentleman you deserve. But all I can think about is burying myself in that sweet pussy and fucking you until the next sun rise. So, please, darling, don't tease me. My meager heart cannot take it.”

The desire burned in his eyes like sunshine through a magnifying glass. Point it at just the right angle and the object underneath would catch fire. The object or, more specifically, the person underneath said magnifying glass happened to be me. His gaze was beginning to set my body ablaze. Flashes of our last entanglement flickered through my mind like an old film. The heaviness of his body against mine as he pumped into me like a piston. The feeling of his tongue on my skin and how he groaned my name. I remember the way my nails scraped against the wooden headboard behind us. Remembering the rhythmic banging had sent me shivers down my spine. The look on his face made my womanhood tingle. He was remembering that night too. The evening my shins shook violently on his shoulders and he came so hard his entire body convulsed.

It was also the last night we spent together before the wedding.

The same night I left him.

A subtle pain started to throb in my chest from the memory. The guilt slowly threatened to consume me. I reassured myself that I knew better, currently. I knew that the white haired above me was more than just a vacation fling. More than just a cheap thrill to distract me from the tipsy bride-to-be and the plastered bridesmaids. He was a good guy, underneath that silly demeanor. He was thorough. Saturo weighed every option presented to him before coming to a conclusion. He was consistent. When he finally chose said option, he would try his hardest to see it through. He was passionate. There wasn’t a challenge he couldn’t overcome. A person he couldn’t charm. Myself included.

“Left nightstand,” I found myself saying, a subtle smile on my lips. “Top drawer.”

“What’s in there?” A confused look colored his face.

“Condoms.”

The confused look morphed into three different expressions as the realization of what I said hit him. The first being shock. His eyebrows rose and his grip on my wrists loosened. The words rising over in his brain several more times before it morphed into a look of adoration. Saturo’s eyes eased halfway closed and a small smile formed on his lips. His shoulders relaxed and the grip he had on my wrists was forgotten. A gentle hand cupped my cheek before the final expression took over his face: unadulterated joy. He leaned his body down and pressed his forehead to mine. I could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. Singing a song I was quickly learning the lyrics to. His hot breath fanned my face and his eyes looked deeply into mine; as if he could see my soul. See how it was opening up for him and how it searched for him after all this time.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was breathless on his lips. Almost like the moment we were having wasn’t real. Almost as if I weren’t real.

“Please.”

The softness of his lips melted the ice covering my defenses. My arms wrapped around his neck and I started to pull Saturo closer. The weight of his body broke down the walls I eradicated to keep him out of my heart. His touch pulled away the feelings of confusion and uncertainty. He moaned against my lips; his arms so tightly around my body I could barely breathe. I could barely form a thought, other than the one that we seemed to share.

I want you.

When the need of oxygen became prevalent for the both of us, I pulled away. My eyes were blurry with lust and I could hear myself panting like horny teenager after such an embrace. Saturo’s hot mouth continued to lay kisses along my neck and shoulder. His hips dropped from the levitating position and situated themselves between my open legs. Saturo arched his back, almost like a feline, and started to grind his pelvic area against mine. The clothes and blanket between us did nothing to hide the intensity of his erection. The teasing thrusts of his hips were sending shivers down my spine, the anticipation of what was to come driving me up the wall.

A warm hand wiggled between our two bodies and slid underneath my shirt. The wide palm pressed against the soft tissue of my left breasts before giving it a squeeze. At the same time, the bastard ran a hot tongue against the side of my neck. I moaned as a result. His fingers found the nipple instantly. Saturo ruled the bud between his fingers, while leaving little nips at my shoulder.

“Care to help me out, sweetness?” He asked softly.

His voice was deep with sleep, but had been coated with lust.

Saturo’s half opened blue eyes looked down at me as if I were hiding something.

The ghost of a smile on his perfect pink lips had me melting in the middle.

“Yes. . . ?” Was all I could mutter after staring at him for a noticeable amount of time.

“Take your shirt off for me, baby,” he replied, the humorous look on his face growing into a full-blown grin.

As I lifted the shirt over my head, a thought appeared in my mind. Saturo was not the kind of person to pressure me into doing things I didn't want to do. Sure, in the beginning, he was a little shit about hanging out and getting to know me— though he never forced me to do it. Nor did he guilt trip into going out with him. Saturo gave me an option. He made it known that it was always my choice to have whatever relationship I wanted with him.

My hands gripped the bottom of the T-shirt and pulled the garment from my body. The cool air in the bedroom caused me to shiver slightly. The man above me froze the moment he caught sight of my bare breasts. His eyes rolled over them like water on a leaf as his tongue ran against his bottom lip. Saturo brought his face to my chest while panting. His mouth was already ready ajar while he gripped the first mound and brought the dark brown bud to his lips. We both moaned at the action. His eyes fluttered closed as he suckled the needy nipple. After a few moments, he released it with a pop and started to swirl his tongue against it. I squirmed beneath him. I wanted nothing more.

His warm hand slid down my bare belly as he switched to the other nipple. The slender fingers shimmied under the waistband and found my sticky womanhood. Two digits ran along my slit before dipping into the folds and circling my bud. A pleasurable sigh left my body from the sensation. My hips rolled against his hand. The friction was utterly delicious on the neglected area. I felt my body vibrate beneath his; the desire to be consumed by him becoming too great to ignore.

A little while later, Saturo lifted his head from my breast and started to kiss down my navel. His eyes flickering up to meet mine every so often. I nervously nipped my bottom lip as I watched his face grow closer to my cunt. His hands pulled at the legs of the sleep shorts; I raised my hips to assist in the action. The cool air on my warm cunt made me shiver. An unholy groan left Saturo’s lips as his eyes stared at the curly mound.

“No panties, huh?” His eyes snapping back to mine.

“I hardly ever sleep with them on,” I admitted with a shrug.

“Noted,” he said with a smirk.

Saturo, then, spread my legs nice and wide to get a better view. I saw his breath hitch at the sight. His thumb ran against the slick slit and I moaned from the feather-like strokes. He pushed my hips apart further and brought my body closer to the edge of the bed. With knees planted on the floor and both hands planted on the backs of my thighs, Saturo dove right in.

Long, slow licks graced my neglected folds and I shuddered beneath him. The tip of his plush tongue ran from my drenched center to the throbbing pearl. He circled said pearl with agonizingly slow movements that made me squirm.

“Stop teasing,” I purred, gently combing through his messy hair. “I thought you wanted to bury yourself in my sweet pussy, or whatever you said earlier.”

A low chuckle rumbled through him and Sauro’s eyes caught mine. “Aren’t we impatient, sweetness?” He nipped at the side of my thigh, earning a smile from me.

“Well, it has been a while since you performed your husbandly duties. . .” I trailed off with a knowing smile.

“Oh?” Saturo raised an eyebrow. “So I am your husband now?”

“I mean, you could go back to being my cheap whore,” I teased, propping myself up on my elbows. “I’ll give you a few bills before I send you away.”

“I knew you did that shit on purpose!” Saturo barked with laughter.

“It wasn’t my intention, but I am not denying the allegation.”

Saturo swatted my leg playfully before throwing me a stern look. “Just for that, I should leave you like this. Hot and bothered.”

“You could,” I nodded. “But, you won’t.”

Saturo narrowed his eyes. “. . . I won’t.”

“Good boy.”

His mouth was on my heat once more, sucking the throbbing pearl into his scorching mouth. The teasing was over and the real game began. As Saturo sucked, the tip of his tongue brushed against the underside of my clit every so often. I squirmed beneath him as the pleasure rose in my belly. He must’ve remembered our last time together. The way I creamed all over his face when did that exact movement with his tongue on my womanhood. A flash of something familiar crossed his eyes and watched an arm wrap around my right thigh, as two fingers brushed my entrance. As if to ask for permission.

“If you add those digits, darling, I’m gonna make a mess of that pretty face.” I sighed, attempting to sound unenthusiastic about the action. “I hope you’re prepared for that.”

The taller gentleman groaned against my cunt, but never removed his mouth from it. He pushed both fingers into my awaiting hole and I sucked in a breath. The digits curled in my sex and found the familiar spongy center at the roof of it. My thighs shook in his arms. Saturo massaged the area with a firm hand. He kneaded my g-spot into submission and I felt body start to vibrate underneath him.

“Oooh. . .” I cooed, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Just like that. . . Don’t stop. . .”

Saturo groaned again, his eyes half-closed as he looked up at me.

He was truly enjoying himself, more than he assumed possible.

His desire, like mine, tainted the air with its sweet music. I could hear them clearly, despite the amulet hanging from my neck. The energy he oozed was far more powerful than anything I had previously encountered. It bellowed out to me in such a way that it was hard to ignore it. The ringing in my ear was subtle, almost like a whisper from a lover. A warm pool in my stomach started to grow. One by one, my limbs grew unfeeling. I could feel absolutely nothing by Saturo’s mouth on my pussy. My eyes started to roll back as my back arched from the bed. My nails dug into the bed sheets as my mouth hung open. The climax was deep and guttural. It pulled a sound from my being that I did not recognize. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until the pressure in my chest grew too great. I had to force a giant wave of cool air to flood my lungs as I cried out Saturo’s name. I felt my legs shake against his face, as he continued to suck my clit.

“Too much!” I gasped, nudging his head away from my sensitive womanhood. “Stop! Please. . .”

Saturo removed his lips from the aching bud and pressed wet kisses on my soft stomach. He crawled up my body and took me in his arms. He held me tightly as the aftershocks of the orgasm started to wear off. With my back pressed against his chest, I felt myself relax almost instantly. His presence was certain as the sunrise and it warmed me immensely. We laid in silence for several moments, but it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

The taller gentleman pulled away for a breath moment. Moments later, I heard the familiar slide of the nightstand’s drawer open. Followed by that was a gentle crinkle of plastic and then a soft hiss fell from his lips. Saturo’s arms were around me before my body grew cold. He pressed hot kisses on my naked shoulder, before pressing his hard length on my bare ass.

“Are you still up for this, sweetness?”

“Yes,” I replied, breathless.

The throbbing member sank into my center from behind and I swore I saw stars. His strong arm hooked across my middle to steady himself. His hips rolled against my plush rear and soft moans spilled from his lips afterward. The weight of his body on mine and the feeling of his breath against my ear was indescribable. The thoughts spinning in mind were in one category: adoration. Maybe it was the dopamine and adrenaline creating a toxic cocktail on my emotions, but all I could think about was my future with Saturo. The way our mornings could be just like this one. Filled with sensual love-making and intimacy that made my head spin. The way he cradled by body as he thrusted into me was exhilarating. He held me like I was going to disappear at any moment.

After a short while, he hiked my left leg into the arm and hooked his arm around my thigh. Saturo tilted his hips backward and started to thrust into me a little bit harder. My shoulders fell into the crook of his arm as my back pressed against the soft mattress. His cock moved deeper into my cunt and pressed a pleasure point I had forgotten I had. My eyes rolled back and the air in my throat grew thick. My nails dug into his forearms as I felt my toes curl.

“There it is,” Saturo snickered. “That’s the face I am looking for.”

“ ‘Turo. . .” I moaned, my head falling back onto his shoulder.

He shuddered from the sound of the nickname and moved his hips faster against my ass.

My eyes rolled back as I felt the pressure in my belly grow once more. My nerves were buzzing and started to feel my body begin to heat all over. The sensations coursing through me were simply incredible and I didn’t want them to end. I never wanted to be separated from the feeling Saturo, my husband, was giving me.

Gradually, the thought of being married to him did not repulse me. It ignited a sort of excitement within me that I kept hidden from the public eye. To have such a biblically beautiful man on one’s as we simply lived life would greatly boost anyone’s ego. For that same man to be downright obsessed with everything about me was something entirely different. The passion he had for me was simply extraordinary. The sweet words that fell from his lips as he fucked me tenderly had made my heart sing. The heat from his body and the power that surrounded him was simply ethereal. All reasonable doubt slipped from my mind the longer the thrusted into me. All I could think about was Gojo Saturo and coming home to his girthy cock every night.

One by one, I felt my limbs go numb and my body stiffen. Keep, harsh breaths poured from my lips as my eyes squeezed shut. The feeling of his cock slipping against my walls had broken through the numbness. I could feel said walls begin to contract, squeezing his member tightly as I climaxed. A gush of cool air filled my lungs as my body melted into his.

“Don’t stop!” I screamed, gripping his arm tightly. “Please don’t stop. . . oh God. . .”

The second wave of the orgasm made my entire body shake against his. My hips bucked against his thick member and my thigh shook in grasp. The older gentleman tried everything to keep the slippery limb from his grasp, but to no avail.

Frustrated, Saturo rolled my stomach and wrapped a hand across my chest. He pressed his entire body against my back, before putting a hand on my throat. Upon pressing his hips against my ass, I realized that his cock was even deeper than it was before. Saturo started to rock his hips against my soft ass and I had never felt something so marvelous in my entire life. The pressure in which he used to fuck me was unholy. The head of his brilliant cock was hitting a pleasure point so deep in my pussy that I was sure that the other lover knew it existed. The weight of his body pushed my pelvis nearly flat against the mattress and added pressure to my stomach. Just between my thighs I felt something rather fluffy nestled right against my apex. The cushioned item slid against my throbbing clit with each thrust and I felt my entire body shiver.

I had no idea when Saturo shoved a pillow between my thighs, but I knew the move was far from a mistake.

“You are so… fucking… perfect,” He stammered, pounding into slick pussy like his life depended on it. “The best. . . person. . . for me.”

Saturo’s grip on the bedsheets tightened and I felt his hips begin to twitch against mine.

He was getting close.

“Tell me,” I said, breathless. “Tell me that you're mine.”

Soft curses fell from his lips as the fingers on my neck tightened. Jagged breaths fell from his lips as his hips moved faster against my lower half. The heaviness of the member pushed against the roof of cunt. Added with the weight of his body against mine meant that Saturo was annihilating two of my pleasure points at once. The addition of the pillow meant that he was three. I couldn’t even feel the last orgasm building as I felt with the prior two. The lovely man was simply taking me onto an ongoing wave of pleasure, equipped with peaks and valleys.

The grinding of his body against mine was mind-numbing. I could feel little dribbles of drool spill from the side of my mouth as he fucked me. Incoherent words spilled from my lips like a drunk prayer, along with a few slurred sprinkles of his name. I never wanted that moment to end, I never wanted him to stop pounding me into the mattress as the late morning sun illuminated our sweat soaked bodies. I wanted the moment to last forever. I wanted to stay with him forever; for in that moment he was truly mine.

My friend.

My lover.

My. . . husband.

The orgasm poured over me like a soothing wave. It was just as deep as the other two, but didn’t have such violent muscle tension. My eyes squeezed shut as I rode on the high. It made my entire body warm and my heart tingle. It made me thankful for the impulsive decision to invite him into my apartment and into my bed. I almost scolded myself for not doing it sooner. The heavy member still pressed against the inflated, spongy area in my cunt. Every thrust had sent electricity throughout my body. The little control that Saturo was holding onto slipped through his fingers. The power behind his thrusts grew elevated and resulted in him practically dropping his cock in my awaiting hole. The movement further stimulated my sensitive clit, since his heaviness caused my womanhood to have even more contact with the pillow. My pearl ground against the plush surface hard as Saturo fucked me deeper than before.

“I’m gonna cum again!” I screamed, pulling at the sheets. “I’m gonna cum again!”

“That’s it, baby,” Saturo grunted. “Scream for your husband.”

His fingers pressed deeper into the sides of my neck as my eyes rolled back for the millionth time. The word ‘yes’ spilled from my lips as if it were the only word in the dictionary. I could feel my legs shake violently beneath him and my mouth open wider than it ever had. A warm pool of liquid started to spill from my sticky cunt shortly after, resulting in a small puddle forming between my thighs. The scream that left my throat was so intense that it was silent. I could feel the massive man above me begin to shudder uncontrollably as his heavy member twitched within my snatch. His body fell onto mine in a sweaty heap and Saturo took a moment to catch his breath.

His hand slipped from my throat and he laced the digits with my shaky one. He pressed soft kisses onto my shoulders as I caught my breath.

“I am yours,” he replied, finally acknowledging my request. The one I nearly forgot. “As you are mine. Forever”.

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

a/n: before you come for me (pun intended), just know that the next installment may not be the happiest.

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TAGLIST

@amajikisupremacy @sweetdreams-inumimi @reagan707 @wannabeotaku @hazzelle-kento @rav3nmuse @maliamaiden @@satoruontopofme

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nyxvalelovesdragonage · 25 days ago

Text

I just wanna be yours

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Nyx (Rook)/Lucanis Dellemorte

This is just PWP, enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3!

“You- how did– the whole time-” Nyx floundered to come up with the right words, his mouth refusing to cooperate. “You were doing this on purpose.” A statement of fact, because they both knew he was right. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, mi amor,” he purred in response.

Rook liked to consider himself a well-composed man, he didn’t flinch even when in the company of gods. But when it came to Lucanis… he seemed to lack that composure that he so desperately needed. He was either a clumsy fool or a horny bastard. For some reason Lucanis loved it and put up with him more often than not.

Today was not one of those days. His composure, usually so sure in the face of unruly Venatori mages, was severely lacking. A few mistakes never hurt anyone, but Rook was starting to get concerned he might get himself killed with another misstep. It was a terrible day to fight anyone, much less the venatori. Damp, drizzly, and slippery. The rain did them no favors besides dragging them down. But no Venatori would be allowed to roam Treviso anymore, not after Illario was caught.

All of his mistakes pointed to one very particular person.

Lucanis.

It was his damn mouth. Lucanis’ mouth was… too nice for its own good. The way he snarled and bared his teeth after every kill, or when his lips curled back in disgust at every venatori they spotted. The best though was when Rook slowed and lagged behind, and Lucanis would move a little ahead before turning back to him. When their eyes met, his lips would quirk just a little into the makings of a smirk. One that was dangerous, the kind that made Rook melt.

So maybe Rook was on the other end of the spectrum; far, far from a clumsy fool. It was partially due to the fact that it was just him and Lucanis fighting off stray Venatori in Treviso, mostly because Lucanis kept looking at him like that. As if he knew a secret that Rook did not. It was beyond sexy and Rook couldn’t help but slow down more often than he usually did just to have Lucanis gaze back at him.

He was getting worked up and Lucanis hadn’t really even done anything. Just being his usual charming self and giving Rook all of his attention. He probably didn’t even know what Rook was feeling right now; the Crow was more oblivious to the inner workings of desire than Rook thought possible. He’d grown better over the time they’d been together, but he still found Rook’s sexual desire an enigma.

Rook hadn’t realized he stopped walking until there was a gentle hand on his forearm that shook him from his thoughts. His eyes darted up to meet Lucanis’, who was giving him a concerned look. Why was he so close? Dammit, he wasn’t helping matters. When they were this close, all Rook could think about was when Lucanis had grown jealous and recklessly fucked him into his mattress. Rook blinked a few times to rid himself of the lustful memories.

“You’ve been stopping more than usual. Should I be worried?” Lucanis tilted his head slightly and his lips curled into a smile. That damn smile, those fucking lips. Rook’s eyes inadvertently snapped down to Lucanis’ mouth and he did his best not to make the movement too obvious.

“I think I need a minute,” Rook finally forced out as he pressed a hand to his burning cheek. He needed to calm down, he needed a splash of cold water to the face. He needed to not pop a boner in the middle of Treviso just because his boyfriend kept looking at him a certain way.

The hand on his arm tightened slightly and Lucanis tugged on it. Rook didn’t protest as he led him out of the crowded streets of Treviso and into a more secluded area. Nyx wasn’t as familiar with Treviso as Lucanis was, the twists and turns doing nothing to help his sense of direction. Finally, Lucanis stopped in what appeared to be an alleyway. Not a single person dwelled in the narrow space, and it was pretty clean for a back alley, without a scrap of trash.

Rook immediately leaned back against the brick wall of one of the buildings and blew out a long breath. The humidity was stifling and made his skin sticky with sweat. Today was a fucking awful day to be in Treviso, all it did was remind Rook of his days in Minrathous. Maker, he hated sweating.

How could Lucanis stand being in this weather with his heavy outfit on like that? Rook would be drenched in sweat if he wore something like that in the sauna that was Treviso. Nyx’s eyes idly traced over Lucanis’ body and his previous line of thinking came rushing back in a blur. Rook let his head fall back against the brick wall and he closed his eyes to focus on his breathing rather than Lucanis’ taut muscles underneath all that padding.

“Something on your mind, Rook?” Lucanis’ dulcet tone was like a melody to his ears. Rook cracked open his eyes to find Lucanis closer to him, peering up at him. He was worried, and here Rook was thinking about ripping his damn clothes off.

The words slipped from his mouth before he could even think, “there’s a lot on my mind right now.” And you’re certainly not helping things by being so close.

His regret was immediate as Lucanis cocked an eyebrow and a small smile played at his lips. Rook yearned to know what was going through the man’s mind right now, what he was thinking about when he smiled like that. Were his thoughts about Rook?

It felt like the temperature rose a few degrees as Lucanis sidled closer and braced his hand against the wall next to Nyx’s neck. Maker’s breath, why was he getting closer? His concern was endearing, but misplaced. Rook’s mind was in the gutter and Lucanis had no earthly idea.

“Pray tell,” Lucanis murmured while looking up at Rook with smoldering eyes. It was at this point that it dawned on him. It must’ve been written all over his face because Lucanis’ mouth curved into a knowing smirk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, mi amor,” he purred in response. A shiver ran through Rook’s entire body and he reached back to dig his nails into the scratchy stone brick behind him. With Lucanis in his bubble, all he could smell was coffee and Antivan leather. His scent was pleasantly overwhelming, drowning out the smell of rain and making him dizzy.

“How did you figure it out? What gave me away?” Rook asked curiously. He was fighting tooth and nail to behave himself, to keep himself from just grabbing Lucanis and smothering him in a kiss. Yet his mind was consumed with ruminations of Lucanis’ bare body against his, pinning him against the wall while his co-

“Nyx,” Lucanis chuckled lightly, snapping him out of his reverie, “you do realize I am First Talon of the Antivan Crows, yes? I am supposed to notice every change in someone’s body language,” his hand settled on Rook’s waist, fingers gently tugging on his tucked-in shirt, “read every expression on their face.” His hand slipped under his shirt, cold against his skin as he hiked the fabric up. Rook shivered against his touch.

“So basically…” Rook began as he reached out to press a hand against the man’s chest, “everything gave me away.” He could feel the flutter of Lucanis’ heart under his palm, betraying his excitement, his desire. It had been foolish to even think Lucanis didn’t notice his eyes roaming over him, or the way his desire touched every move he made while in the presence of the man he adored. Rook was a Crow too, after all. Not like the First Talon, he couldn’t read his opponent’s every move or emotion like attending to a dance partner. But he should know enough to not underestimate Lucanis. More so because he’d taken to studying Nyx, learning what his body wanted without his knowledge.

The smile that escaped Lucanis shot through Rook like lightning. He shouldn’t be able to so easily unravel him with just a scrunch of his eyes and a curl of his mouth, yet Rook found himself pressing more of his weight against the wall behind him. His knees were threatening to waver under that molten gaze, but he held strong as best he could.

“I have an unfair advantage,” Lucanis’ voice was velvet and his words only heightened his sensitivity to his touch. Rook moved his free hand to grab a hold of Lucanis’ forearm to stop him from exploring his body’s hidden depths, his hand having pushed Nyx’s shirt almost all the way up to his shoulder to gain access to his soft chest.

Lucanis’ reaction was instant and he eased his hand away with a tilt of his head. Worry painted his features and Rook was uncertain if it was real worry or he was acting it out once more. Rook’s mouth slipped open to speak, but nothing would form as Lucanis stared at him with those big, brown eyes. There was a tight knot forming in Nyx’s stomach, arousal snaking its way through him and making it hard for him to concentrate on what was going on. When he breathed in, all he could smell was Lucanis. The distinct scent of Antivan coffee and expensive leather, and a subtle taste of some kind of aftershave. Nyx had smelled it countless times before, but each time became more intoxicating than the last.

Lucanis was so close, so far in his personal space that Nyx would only have to move an inch for their lips to meet. The minute details of his face were on display for Rook to see and he took in everything from the worry lines creased on his forehead down to the way his lips pressed tightly together. Everything about him was beautiful, the only way Rook knew to describe it. Each scar, each wrinkle a story that Rook desired to know more about. His resolve was slipping away like the morning tide and Lucanis hadn’t even done anything to merit such a reaction.

“Too much?” Lucanis’ words were hesitant, much like a puppy after being scolded. It was enough to snap Rook back to the present and he focused his eyes on Lucanis’ face. If there was one thing Lucanis excelled at, it was making sure, without a doubt, that Rook was comfortable. No matter the circumstance, the Crow put aside everything for Nyx, and did so happily. He loved so fervently, so wholly that Rook had never stood a chance. Even now he stared up at Rook, practically begging for approval, for permission. It was a rare show of vulnerability, strictly reserved for Rook’s eyes only. And it wasn’t as if Nyx had any want to say no to his lover, to push him away and leave. He’d put his hunger out on the table much earlier, and yet Lucanis still had qualms. Still wanted that verbal confirmation.

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere in his throat and Nyx shook his head slightly, “I’m the one who was getting all hot and bothered, and you’re asking if you’re too much?” Fingers slid up Lucanis’ neck before settling right above his jawline. Lucanis’ eyes flicked towards Rook’s hand before he instinctually leaned into it. His eagerness was endearing, if rare to come to fruition.

While the soft touches and agile dancing of their hands across each other’s skin was equable and relaxed, Rook ached for something more. His want from earlier only escalated the longer they stood in close proximity. Lucanis’ hips were nearly pressed against Nyx’s, enough to where he felt as if he was pinned to the wall. Burning desire twisted through him like tree roots, overtaking any other emotion he felt in the moment. They pulsed and constricted and all his blood was soon flowing down south in a heated rush.

Rook, with an amazing amount of restraint against his growing hunger, leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lucanis’. His lips were chapped from months of drinking hot coffee nonstop, but they tasted like a rich, sweet cup of coffee themselves. It reminded Nyx of when Lucanis had described the coffee from Cafe Pietra during their first outing together. Like a kiss goodbye. Rook hadn’t understood the simile until he’d shared his first kiss with Lucanis. Nothing would ever compare.

Lucanis’ hand clamped down on the back of Nyx’s neck, pulling him forward so their bodies pressed flush. Rook let out a noise akin to a whimper as his own hand slipped from Lucanis’ face down to grip at his leather overcoat. They shouldn’t be so desperate to kiss, they kissed all the time in the privacy of the Lighthouse. Nyx had always been extremely affectionate and attached, which Lucanis had needed so intensely in his life. Their nights spent together, whether making love or not, were always spent with stroking hands and tangled legs. No matter where they were, Lucanis and Nyx gravitated towards one another as naturally as breathing.

Rook relished in the way Lucanis felt against him, his lean frame and wiry muscles enfolding him until his body was all he could feel. He was hazily aware of Lucanis’ free hand moving back to that familiar spot where his shirt had been untucked and icy cold fingers gripping his waist to keep him stationary. Nyx nipped at Lucanis’ bottom lip before the man dipped his tongue into Rook’s mouth. His grip tightened on Lucanis’ shirt as he sucked, earning the tiniest of noises from his lover. It was more than enough to spur Nyx on as their tongues intertwined.

“Rook,” Lucanis broke away from him first, cheeks flushed in a gorgeous shade of pink all the way to the tips of his ears. Rook wanted nothing more than to commit that erotic face to his memory, to have it forever. Lucanis looked heavenly, other-worldly when he stared at Rook like that. Like he desired nothing more in this world than Nyx himself. Half-lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips that yearned for Rook’s mouth only. It should be illegal for Lucanis to look at him like that, as the things it did to Rook were unparalleled.

“We should head back,” he said against his mouth before Nyx kissed him once more. They shared another heated kiss for a few precious moments and then Lucanis once more pulled back. “Rook. Mierda, I can’t stand here like this with you. The things–” he let out a low growl as his hand tightened on the back of his neck. He lowered his voice an octave, earning a pleasurable shiver from Nyx, “The things I want to do to you right now. We need to go to the Lighthouse.”

No, Nyx wouldn’t make it that far. Not with how unbelievably hot he’d grown in the past couple of minutes. He needed to be satiated now, lest he lose his current desires. He knew why Lucanis was so insistent, the reasoning wasn’t good enough in his mind though. Public displays of affection were frowned upon in the Dellemorte household, much more so sexual acts with the same gender. Many times that issue had cropped up in their relationship already, with Lucanis tentative with any sort of touching, down to holding his hand out in the public eye.

To be caught having sex in a back alley? Especially with someone like Rook? It would ruin House Dellemorte, not to mention ruin Lucanis’ reputation. Elves weren’t as criticized in Antiva as they were in Minrathous, but the racism still existed. That, coupled with the fact Rook was a man… It spelled disaster.

But disaster never stopped Rook.

“Amatus,” he purred, snaking his fingers through Lucanis’ hair and cradling the back of his head. He wasted no time in guiding Lucanis around and swapping their positions so his lover was the one pressed against the wall. The Crow didn’t protest, his lips slightly ajar as he watched Rook with desire written all over his face. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Lucanis tilted his head once more, just slightly, and gave Rook a puzzled expression in response. It would be much easier to show him rather than tell him what he planned on doing. Even though his own cock was starting to fill out from the idea playing out in his head, he ignored it in favor of concentrating on unhooking Lucanis’ belt.

It would be simple to just pull his pants down to his ankles, to take what he wanted. Lucanis wouldn’t complain, he seemed to enjoy a more dominant side of Rook. But such behaviors were not in Nyx’s nature, especially when it came to someone he truly cared about. So once Lucanis’ belt was undone and his pants unbuttoned to reveal his briefs underneath, Rook’s eyes darted up to meet his lover’s. No matter how pent up he felt, he would stop if Lucanis gave the word.

“Is this okay?” Rook breathed out with an earnest look.

It seemed Rook wasn’t the only one with a crumbling resolve. Lucanis’ face shifted, his expression practically unreadable as he regarded Nyx. He only did something like that when the gears in his brain were turning. Refusing to show emotion while he parsed through his own thoughts. Simply put, it was interesting yet maddening to watch. Rook had never nailed down that look, even during his Crow training. Such a look fit Lucanis much more than it did Nyx.

“Yes,” the word left his mouth in reverence, a blessing given directly to Rook. It comforted him to know that Lucanis wanted this as much as he did. The thought of pressuring the man into doing something he was uncomfortable with… such a thing did not sit well with him at all. But he pushed that thought out of his mind for the time being as he sank to his knees. The cobblestone under his knees scraped and pulled at the fabric of his pants, and his boots squeaked when he settled. The position wasn’t the most comfortable, the stone already digging hard into his knees, but his attention was fully captured by Lucanis. Lucanis, who, at the moment, looked much like a hala about to bolt.

Rook gently took a hold of Lucanis’ waistband and eased his pants down along with his briefs. He paused halfway down his legs and glanced around, half-expecting someone to just randomly show up. When nothing of the sort happened, Rook dropped his pants and dragged his eyes up to look at Lucanis in all his glory.

What he saw stole the breath from his lungs. Desperate want was etched across every feature on Lucanis’ face as he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. His cock was already at full length, as if anticipating this exact moment. The fine, dark, downy hair around his length stretched up, up, up and disappeared tantalizingly underneath his shirt. Rook’s mouth watered at the sight and his own cock pressed against the tight fabric of his pants incessantly. Rook’s tongue darted out to lick at his lips as he drank in the sight above him. He would never ever tire of seeing Lucanis like this for as long as he lived.

Nyx leaned forward almost eagerly and kissed the tip of his cock before he took the entire head in his mouth. The response was immediate as Rook pressed one hand against Lucanis’ taut thigh and the other gripped the base of his length. There was no noise, nothing spilled from Lucanis’ mouth but his eyes were drilling into Rook, smoldering like dying embers. The elf’s eyes flicked up to meet Lucanis’ as he lowered his mouth further down on his erection.

Lucanis’ face was utterly distracting in the best way possible. Nyx had looked up to make sure Lucanis was doing okay and instead all he could see was how aroused Lucanis appeared. How could the First Talon go from calm, composed, and teasing to this within a few minutes? What kind of spell did Nyx have up his sleeve to alter the Demon of Vyrantium’s composure this drastically?

Yet, it wasn’t enough. It was only fair that Rook got his payback after Lucanis teased him as he did earlier. Pretending he didn’t notice that Rook was staring, thinking about all the ways Lucanis could pin him down and fuck him relentlessly. Nyx popped his mouth off Lucanis’ cock and stared up at him with an ardent expression.

“Good?” He drawled out in a low voice, squeezing his hand around his length a little. His lips curved upwards into a lazy smirk, “Or should I stop?”

Lucanis’ thigh tensed up under Rook’s touch and he moved his hand away from his mouth. His mouth was hanging wide open while he tried to control his growing pants. Rook flicked his tongue out to wet his lips and he knew that Lucanis was watching every single movement with those beautiful brown eyes. It was almost too easy to work Lucanis up, sometimes Nyx wondered if Spite had something to do with it. It wasn’t the most outlandish theory, given previous interactions.

A low growl escaped Lucanis’ throat and a flicker of purple passed over his eyes. It gave enough of an indication that Spite was indeed in there still and aware of what was going on. Rook leaned forward and teasingly lapped at the head of Lucanis’ cock once more, regarding him with muted enthusiasm. There was a certain thrill to doing something so intimate in public, especially with the knowledge they could most certainly be caught. Antiva wasn’t a reserved nation, per say, but for someone to witness a blowjob in an alley? Highly unlikely, very scandalous.

“Use your words,” Nyx urged, “both of you.”

A deep groan resounded from Lucanis and Rook knew he hit the mark with his specific word choice. He was all too eager to just swallow Lucanis whole right now, taste him in the back of his throat while those calloused fingers gripped his hair roughly. But he tasted so much sweeter after fanning the flames a little.

Though it was clear that Lucanis was fighting tooth and nail not to let Spite show through. To not show how much Rook’s word affected him and probably Spite along with him. He reminded Nyx of an unruly puppy, refusing to be trained.

“Don’t-” Lucanis’ voice caught and Rook raised his eyebrows in response. “Don’t. Encourage him, Rook.” Certain what Rook expected, but it was something he could work with. He purposefully blew out a sigh against Lucanis’ cock, breath hot as he sat back on his calves a little. Lucanis offered nothing else in response, his body wound tight like a bowstring.

“Then tell me what you want, amatus,” he purred with gentle encouragement. “I’m all yours.”

If Lucanis’ face could grow any more red than it already had, it had hit that point. Each little minute movement in the man’s face revealed more and more of his inner dialogue. While his eyes were trained on Nyx’s face, he was somewhere else almost entirely. His lips were pursed and his eyebrows furrowed as he seemingly spoke to some invisible force. What was Spite saying to him? Even as a mage, Rook could not hear their conversations like Emmrich could. Such a talent would be a blessing to him, as Lucanis didn’t always tell him exactly what Spite said. And he rarely offered the demon control willingly.

“I want…” Lucanis finally spoke and Rook’s ears pricked, “I want you. Nyx, please, don’t stop.”

Nyx listened to that quiet plea in utter rapture, a soft little moan escaping his mouth. Rook fluttered his eyelashes up at his lover and nodded in satisfaction. With another lick of his lips, Nyx sunk his mouth back down on Lucanis’ straining erection. Rook carefully took more of his length until he reached his own hand wrapped around the base. He could feel the tip brushing the back of his throat so he took in a few more inches with a noise reminiscent of a groan.

Fingers threaded through his hair as soon as he pulled his mouth back all the way to the head and Nyx was quick to steal a look up at Lucanis. His free hand had moved back to his mouth to cover it and he was watching Nyx with a hazy expression. Rook needed no further incentive than that as he took his cock all the way back into his mouth.

The feeling of fullness in his mouth was indescribable, Nyx unable to form a coherent thought as he ravished Lucanis’ length with his mouth. With each pull back, Lucanis’ hand would tangle deeper into Nyx’s hair and urge him to move faster. Rook could feel himself starting to drool every time he sunk down and he couldn’t help but dig his nails into Lucanis’ thigh. His eyes fluttered closed and he slicked his tongue over the underside of his cock, tasting his precum coating the inside of his mouth.

“Mierda, Nyx. Fuck-” his words were muffled through his hand, but Nyx could hear him loud and clear, even through his own daze. His own desire was mounting, his erection straining painfully against his slacks, weeping to be touched. With no free hands, Rook couldn’t give himself the attention he so desperately needed. So he instead redoubled his efforts on Lucanis.

As if reading his mind, or perhaps catching a peek at his erection through his clothes, Lucanis shifted his weight and reached out his foot. The sole of his boot pressed insistently against Nyx’s cock and his fluid ministrations stuttered. Nyx nearly keened right then and there while that boot pinned down his erection just right.

“Nyx, Nyx,” Lucanis groaned his name, “I’m�� fuck, I’m close. Please, please– I can’t-” he choked out another moan, louder this time. Loud enough to where Rook nearly paused to scan their surroundings. A moan like that… could be mistaken for a moan of pain. If any nearby Crow heard that-

All thoughts were cut off as the hand fisted in his hair physically, roughly forced him to swallow his entire length in one swift motion. Tears sprung forth in his eyes and he nearly gagged at the intrusion, catching himself barely in time as a sinful moan reverberated around Lucanis’ cock. He greedily swallowed around his length, deep throating him while clawing at his thigh to keep himself grounded in some sense. The foot on his own dick was pressing down harder and rubbing against him, distracting him from the uncomfortableness of the disturbance deep in his throat.

“Want. More,” the growl reached his ears and Nyx blinked a few times before he stared up at Spite with half-lidded eyes. The demon wasn’t in full control, but he had enough to get to the front. The shift in eye color was mesmerizing and Rook couldn’t take his eyes off his lover even with his cock stuffed deep inside his mouth. His shaft twitched in Rook’s throat, the only indication that he was close to his orgasm. “Want. More. Nyx.”

With a deep breath in through his nose, Nyx took him all and the noise that left Lucanis’ mouth was beyond ecstasy, beyond anything Nyx had ever heard leave his lips. His grip on his hair was very painful but in the best way possible, and he kept Rook’s face pressed against his pelvis as his cock pulsated in his throat. Rook slid his hand up off Lucanis’ thigh and settled it against his hip, guiding him through his orgasm as best he could. The taste of him, salty as he swallowed it down, was downright bliss. He kept still until Lucanis was spent and those fingers in his hair loosened and finally released him.

Rook was light-headed from the rough treatment he endured, so he slowly and carefully pulled himself off Lucanis’ softening cock. His calves slid out from underneath him and he sunk his ass to the ground as he panted raggedly. Rook clamped a hand over the front of his shirt, noting the mess of spit and precum he’d left behind in his wake. That whole interaction… fuck. His heart was still racing, and his erection remained.

“Nyx,” Lucanis’ soft voice snapped him back to the present and Nyx focused on Lucanis as he crouched down in front of him. The man reached out and gently wiped his thumb over the corners of Rook’s mouth. The look on his face said it all, he didn’t even need to speak. Lucanis had guilt written out all over his face, most likely for letting Spite take over at the last moment and giving Nyx a run for his money. It had been a definite shock, but not a terrible one. Dazed as he was, Rook did his best to recover from the overwhelming events that just transpired. Nyx shook his head and with a little help from Lucanis, stood up on shaky legs. His knees protested after being pressed against the ground for so long and his back creaked and popped when he straightened up. He dug his hands into the back of his hips and arched his back in a stretch.

“You are maddening, mi amor,” Lucanis told him as he surveyed the surrounding area. Nothing was out of the ordinary, no one had stumbled across them during their little escapade. A miracle in its own right given how noisy Lucanis had grown. Undoubtedly, Nyx wasn’t the only one with a mouth on him.

A grin spread across his face and Nyx sidled closer to Lucanis. “In the best way possible, right?” He couldn’t help the slight desire that tinged his voice.

“It’s why I love you.”

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olrinarts · 2 months ago

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Stuck inside during an unanticipated snowstorm, Narinder and the Lamb resort to playing Knucklebones, and it goes... weird. Then the Lamb gets melodramatic. Thankfully, not everyone is content to leave it at that. (narilamb, explicit, 8k.)

#cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #cult of the lamb fanfic #pwp fic #sorta #i don't think i've ever written smut without SOME plot #but the point is the smut #olrin writes

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anothersigh · 10 months ago

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I saw a Sterek post about mating season and Derek having big balls, and it reminded me an old tweet of mine. Thought to share here too

Been thinking this ridiculous Sterek Omegaverse idea.

You know how omega produce slick when they're in heat? What about something similar with alphas.

When they are close to their rut, male alpha start to produce a heavy amount of cum to ensure the breeding of their partner. So their balls get big and heavy, full of cum to the point sometimes it hurts. Imagen they can't go out because there no clothes for it and also the pain.

And Derek, as an alpha werewolf, he has it worse. Those big breeding balls, full of cum to keep stuffed a beautiful omega.

He always suffered his rut. Because never find a correct partner. Or they wanted something from him or never felt right. Also his balls get bigger that mostly other alphas, even after his rut. So has to stay in his house for days. His body aching for a mate.

Until he finds Stiles.

And @sinqueen69 wrote a fic about it too. Especially with God!Derek, love that trope❤️‍🔥

The wolf god

#derek hale #stiles stilinski #alpha derek hale #derek is hung #and has big balls #omega stiles #omegaverse au #omegaverse ideas #derek being hung is my head #add size difference #and thats even perfect #sterek #my Sterek ideas #fic rec #fic recommendation #pwp fic #god derek hale #derek is big

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96crewlove · 5 months ago

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lesbians rahhh 🤲🏾🩷 link to the series below ⬇️

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godtier · 4 months ago

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henlo, megamans ppl, i come bearing two fanfics that tie into my overarching storyline that i started like 4 years ago sobs

(tho no... unfortunately neither of them are the second part because i'm still strugglin thru writing that one out... i'm gomen for anyone who cares)

first fic:

Title: Wherever That Wind Blows, the Destination Is the Same Canon: Megaman X Pairing: none, technically... pre-VAVA/Zero if u squint Summary: Set during the first Sigma-led Maverick Riot and part of the Rekindled fic series, VAVA contemplates the situation he's found himself in while Storm Eagle provides his own observations. They're not exactly wanted. This is basically picking up from where VAVA escapes from Zero's surprise attack at the very beginning of X1. It does tie into my main fic series, but it should be vague/general enough to be readable on its own!

Read it on Archive of Our Own!

second fic:

Title: Down the Beaten Path Canon: Megaman X Pairing: VAVA/Zero Summary: To put it bluntly, this is a "What-If" scenario I wrote as a PWP that takes place during the forest scenes in my fic Unsaid. It's basically just smut for the sake of smut and not canon to the series, so take it or leave it!! I'm not your mom!!

Read it on Archive of Our Own!

lmk what you think! feel free to reblog or w/e! it's been a hot min since i've made content for the fandom (even tho this is just OTP brainrot.....) so i hope someone out there likes it!

#fanfiction #fanfic #megaman x #rockman x #zero #vava #vava/zero #vile/zero #vile megaman x #zero megaman x #pwp fic #gen fic #archive of our own #ao3 #text post #my writing

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pleathewrites · 9 months ago

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bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 2 excerpt — dabihawks first time read full story here

The second the door shuts with Shouto and Natsuo’s leave, Touya pushes the hero towards his bedroom and pounces on him, causing Keigo to fall back onto his bed with an, “oof!”

Touya swallows Keigo’s laughter and pulls at the hem of the hero’s shirt, rucking it up to mouth at the tanned skin of his sternum. Keigo moans and arches his back, quickly taking off his shirt and pressing his feathers along the healthy skin his hands don’t reach, talons slightly biting into the flesh of Touya’s thighs.

Keigo’s hands slide up to squeeze Touya’s ass, appreciating the fat that’s accumulated on the scarred man’s body from eating regularly this past month. Keigo groans at the give and moves one hand to grip at Touya’s waist — the soft squish of Touya’s belly makes heat tingle at the base of Keigo’s spine.

Touya pulls back to fully look at Keigo. The way Keigo’s chest shines with his spit, glints in the dim light around the darker marks made by his own teeth, makes Touya bite his lip.

“Touya, c’mere,” Keigo mumbles, the hands at Touya’s thighs and waist pulling him over to meet Keigo’s open mouth, the hero's tongue sliding inside and lighting the kerosene that sits behind Touya’s teeth.

Touya grinds down with purpose, slow and heavy for the hero to feel his consuming desire. Keigo’s moan vibrates against Touya’s mouth, down his throat, and he works his hips again, desperate for Keigo’s sound.

"Feels like someone's happy to see me, hm?" When Keigo smiles, his golden eyes molt into the only heat that Touya feels will never hurt him.

Touya wants Keigo to want him, to need him, just as badly as he does.

He grips golden locks between scarred palms and licks a stripe from the edge of Keigo's jaw up his stubbled cheek.

Keigo’s sharp inhale against Touya’s ear makes his skin hot, and it has nothing to do with his quirk. When Touya feels a taloned hand start to creep inside the bottom of his borrowed shorts and feels cool air graze the bared skin of his ass before the almost burning heat of Keigo’s palm grabbing one of his cheeks fully, a moan spills from his lips and his head falls to the crook of Keigo’s neck.

Keigo’s hand fondles his asscheek, jiggling the meat of it before giving it a light spank, and it makes Touya laugh, “You're ridiculous, Birdy.”

Keigo turns his head to smirk at Touya, “You’ve got a really cute ass,” punctuating his statement with another firm squeeze.

Touya groans at the tease of Keigo's talons scraping at his most secret parts, “Then do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

He bites down at the juncture between Keigo’s neck and shoulder and feels the shudder that wracks through the hero’s body. He presses his smile into the skin before sucking hard.

He feels a soft and fringed pressure start to trail under his shirt and up to his chest, “Hm?” the hero playfully muses as two red feathers firmly press down against Touya’s nipples and cause the man to gasp at the pleasure that zings through his spine, “Do something… Like what?”

The feathers start to move, light circles at first before alternating to firm sweeps, causing Touya’s hips to shake into Keigo’s hard length and unrelenting grip.

Touya’s cock starts to weep, a few spots of damp stickiness stamped into the front fabric of his shorts.

His spine arched, belly sliding against the hero’s tight core. He stretches his neck to run his tongue along Keigo’s earlobe, nipping just a bit under the hero’s black stud, “Fuck me.”

Keigo’s cock twitches under Touya’s own, and they both moan.

When Touya looks at Keigo’s flushed face, he sees those molten honey eyes have widened into wonder. Keigo’s hand leaves his ass to cup his face, “You sure?” Keigo asks against his mouth.

Touya bites his scarred lip and moves back to sit on Keigo’s thighs as he takes off his shirt.

Keigo’s heart blooms in his chest. Touya never takes his shirt off.

Keigo surges up to kiss the scarred man hard.

He sends his feathers to fetch necessary supplies, his own hands cupping Touya’s bare tits, thumbing over puffy nipples, and drinking in every single sound that leaves Touya’s lips. He trails his mouth down Touya’s neck, kissing every staple within sight and whispering utter devotion into stitched skin — ‘so good, so fuckin' beautiful, baby, you're gonna look so fuckin’ good on my cock, so fucking pretty in my hands, Touya, fuck, thank you, thank you, Touya…’

His teeth scrape a pebbled nipple, and there’s no hesitation before he takes it into his mouth, savoring the velvet feel against his tongue, the pliant give between his bite.

Touya starts to shake all over. His trembles feel glorious under Keigo’s hands, the vibrations against clinging feathers making the hero borderline delirious.

There’s absolute filth spilling out of Keigo’s mouth, dirty promises to take Touya higher than anything he could ever shoot up his veins, and it makes Touya so fucking hot.

No one has ever made Touya feel this way, like he’s about to be pulled apart by his very own seams — so utterly worshiped, so deliciously lewd.

It’s not until he hears the unmistakable sound of something ripping that he registers that Keigo’s talons have shredded Touya’s shorts to tatters.

He's so sensitive, even just the air against his hole brings him to the edge.

“Fuck,” Touya sighs helplessly as Keigo’s mouth bites a trail to his other nipple. “Kei,” He grips onto blond hair tightly and squeezes the man’s shoulder, needing something to occupy his hands just to deal with the tension.

A soft pressure nudges at the hand Touya grips Keigo’s shoulder with. When Touya focuses on looking in that direction, he sees a curled feather carrying a bottle of lube. He opens his hand to engulf both the feather and bottle before maneuvering the objects around a bit until the feather is held between his thumb and middle finger, the lube secure within the cup of his palm.

Touya slips his fingers free from blond locks and slides them down until they curve around Keigo’s strong jaw, urging the hero’s attention away from Touya's chest. Mischievous gold eyes hold slow contact with Touya’s own as Keigo bites down, sending another zing of hot pleasure down Touya's spine, before slowly easing back and pulling Touya’s nipple taut between his teeth. Touya moans and sucks in a gasp when Keigo lets go, feeling a blurt of his precome smear onto Keigo’s stomach.

Keigo smirks.

Touya's eyes narrowed before giving his own slow, devious smile, “How sensitive are your feathers?”

Keigo’s eyes flicker to the feather held between Touya’s two fingers before looking back at him, “Why?”

Touya gathers a pool of heated saliva on his tongue before bringing the feather to his lips and opening his mouth wide, sticking out his tongue, and giving the feather a full and languid lick.

Keigo’s pupils dilate and his spine goes ramrod straight, hands squeezing Touya’s waist so tightly, “Shit.”

Keigo feels every single hot centimeter of Touya's tongue, every slick groove and soft ridge slithering up the hero’s spine and tingling down to his toes.

The reaction causes Touya to smile so fully — pearly whites and pink tongue and glinting stud. Keigo momentarily blanks with how fucking pretty Touya is when he smiles like that.

That pretty smile closes, both rows of blinding teeth disappearing behind two-toned lips closing over the top half of Keigo’s feather, staple-lined cheeks hollowing out with a firm suck.

Keigo’s head falls in a groan, forehead pressing into Touya’s collarbone, “Fuck, you're so hot,” and he means that both figuratively and literally because he can feel the heat of Touya’s mouth, how wet it is and how soft the man’s tongue is around that fucking piercing.

Touya moans around the feather, and the sensation overwhelms Keigo — the feeling of being physically inside Touya makes Keigo feel absolutely wild.

Keigo looks up to memorize the scene, thumbing Touya’s plump bottom lip, "One day, I'm gonna push my cock between this gorgeous mouth of yours," He promises.

In desperation, his hands slide down to Touya’s ass and squeeze the cheeks tightly, pulling them out to welcome Touya's tight heat to the home they've built these past two months within Keigo's safehouse. He uses his grip to bring the scarred man down and grind their cocks together.

He wills the feather in Touya's mouth to press down against the man's tongue and rub against the muscle the way his own tongue would.

The feeling of the feather moving against Touya’s tongue is extremely foreign to him but it feels so good. Touya moans again, making out with Keigo's feather to get blond’s spine to twitch like before.

Keigo groans and once again pulls Touya’s asscheeks apart, wider this time, before letting go and reveling in the smack they make when the flesh collides back together. When he does it again, he doesn’t let go, keeping one globe of flesh in each hand. “Touch yourself,” He begs, running a light and careful fingerpad across Touya’s bare hole, reveling in the flutter of puckered flesh when his talon dangerously grazes just underneath, “Please.”

Touya frantically nods, his chest heaving and hands fumbling to open the bottle and coat his fingers before reaching back and spreading the lube. He exhales a sigh at the feeling, and the feather on his tongue wiggles.

As Touya works his fingers in and sucks on the feather, Keigo takes to hooking his chin over Touya’s shoulder to watch, keeping the scarred man's cheeks apart and using his hold to grind against him.

It all feels so good, Touya wonders if he’ll be able to hold out. From the two fingers he's now thrusting in and out of his hole, to Keigo’s warm body and length grinding up into his own, his feather fucking his tongue, Touya feels the tell-tale pressure building quickly at the base of his spine and spread throughout his groin.

Keigo moves back to watch it all.

Seeing the way Touya moves above him, the circles Touya’s hips make, and the way his neck dangles back and to the side in pleasure makes something inside Keigo release, and he wants to be a part of everything that makes Touya feel good.

Touya feels Keigo’s left hand slightly pinch the flesh of his asscheek, causing him to yelp in surprise. He looks at the man to say something, but when Keigo brings that hand to his mouth and fucking bites the talons of his index and middle finger clean off, he can only gape.

Keigo takes advantage of Touya’s open mouth to rise up and thrust his own tongue down Touya's throat, alongside the feather, and both feather and tongue move against Touya’s own. Touya's whining keen is such a delight to be felt by both.

Touya feels Keigo’s arm wiggle between their bodies, under his spread legs, and when two wet fingers thicker than his own start to trace around his rim and touch his own thrusting fingers, he gasps and Keigo removes the feather from Touya’s mouth to the head of his weeping cock.

Keigo’s middle finger slides in alongside Touya’s own two and the wet feather rubs against the piercing that goes around Touya’s cockhead through his frenulum.

‘Of fucking course he’s pierced there,’ Sometimes, Keigo can’t even believe Touya is real.

Touya moans so loudly — his mouth opens wide and his voice cracks with the pitch of his throat. The staples at his cheeks strain.

Keigo smiles against those open lips, sucks the bottom in his own mouth, “Mmm,” and he bites at the scarred lip as he crooks his finger, feeling the way Touya’s mouth moves around pleasured whines, “That’s it, baby. Ride my fingers, just like that.”

Touya can’t help but pull Keigo in for another kiss, his body being wound up so tightly by this wonderful, wonderful man that he needs to express it, somehow, in any way he can. He sucks on Keigo’s tongue, presses the thumb of his free hand into Keigo's jaw, and curls his fingers into the short blond hair at the nape of Keigo’s neck — the way Keigo likes it, the way that makes him whine and groan into Touya’s working mouth.

Touya pulls back slightly and starts to tug at the waistband of Keigo’s sweats, “I can’t believe you did that,” He marvels, referring to the way Keigo had bit off two of his talons just so he could finger Touya open, “Fuck, doesn’t it hurt?”

“Worth it,” Keigo grins, a little smug as he uses his strength to slightly lift both him and Touya up in assistance to finally push down his sweats enough for his hard cock to literally bob out and smack his stomach. Touya sighs at the sight of it, and Keigo uses that moment to push his second finger in, causing Touya’s sigh to pitch up into a mewl.

Keigo curls his two fingers, and Touya’s back goes taut as a bowstring, “Keigo — !”

Keigo begins to fuck his fingers roughly into Touya’s wet hole, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over again, feeling the bumps and ridges of Touya’s own lax and slender fingers. The sounds that spill out of Touya’s pretty two-toned lips make the sweetest melody Keigo has ever heard.

Keigo wants to hear this song for the rest of his life.

The sight of Touya’s quivering body and heaving chest makes Keigo groan into Touya’s puffy nipple, taking it into his mouth with an audible suck before grabbing Touya’s waist with the hand that was clutching his ass. Keigo stretches and tilts his neck to speak straight into Touya’s ear, “D’you wanna cum?”

Touya shakes his head, and Keigo feels his slender fingers move out his hole, “No, n-not yet.”

Touya wipes off his fingers somewhere along the duvet before pushing Keigo’s shoulder until the hero’s back hits the mattress.

Touya hums as he crowds over Keigo, the change in angle pushing Keigo’s fingers even deeper against his spot. He sighs so lovely when he lolls his head back as his hips swivel and grind into them.

Keigo is so gone for him, "You're fuckin' stunnin’, love."

Touya props a hand on Keigo's chest, his heavy-lidded stare making Keigo dizzy.

Touya drags his hand down Keigo’s chest, his abdomen, scratches at the tuft of blond hair over Keigo’s pelvis before his thumb starts to circle the wet head of Keigo’s cock, watching the way Keigo’s pretty platinum lashes flutter at direct stimulation after so long, “Gods, how do you even look like that.” Touya uses the precum that’s already gathered and dripped down Keigo’s shaft to slide his fingers around it firmly, varying pressure and heat. He watches the hero’s expression at every touch and spits a thick wad of heated saliva onto the tip.

“Shit, Touya,” He loves Touya’s hands but he didn’t know their heat could be used to make him feel so good, twisting at the base and squeezing his cockhead. His mind goes fuzzy with what Touya will feel like inside, “You’re killin’ me here,” because Keigo doesn’t know how long he’ll last with those heavily lidded eyes, half-blazing blue framed by snow-white lashes, glued to him like that.

Touya smiles, and Keigo’s heart skips a beat before he crooks his fingers meanly, making those beautiful blue eyes widen with a gasp. Touya bends down to bite at Keigo’s jaw, “Want you to fuck me,” and digs a nail into the slit of Keigo’s cock as he pants, “Right now.”

Keigo groans, gently pulling his fingers out of Touya’s hole, cleaning them off in the similar manner Touya had, and fumbling with his feathers to scramble a condom on.

He smooths his hands down Touya’s body and pulls until the villain lies directly on top of him, wrapping his arms around Touya’s frame fully and kissing those two-toned lips with a tenderness he feels they’ve skipped out on this whole time.

The reverent slide of Keigo’s lips against his own simmers the boiling need that had been threatening to spill over within Touya. The warm press brings him back from the haze of seemingly insatiable lust and makes Touya feel like he has all the time in the world to learn the man under him.

Keigo pulls back, “How do you want me?” and he smooths his hand over Touya’s back in soothing motions, and Touya has an urge to stretch out like a cat.

Touya bites his lip and thinks about it, thinking about what he wants to feel and what he wants Keigo to feel. He has a feeling Keigo really wants to see his face, but Touya is starting to feel a little bit too exposed and needs a safe space. On the other hand, he wants to feel the hero completely surround him, go as deep as he can go, and touch wherever taloned hands covet in the moment.

He moves off of Keigo to lie on his side with his elbow hoisting his upper body up and uses his free hand to grab Keigo’s arm and pull it over his waist, the heat of Keigo’s skin immediately warming his own, “Like this?” He looks over his shoulder and raises his eyebrow.

Keigo lets out a satisfied hum and begins to get comfortable, reaching behind him to grab a pillow and stuff it where Touya’s head would lay before sliding his own arm under Touya’s neck and curling it around his shoulders. This way, Touya’s lower half remains sideways whereas his upper body has the mobility of either resting on his back to face Keigo or turning on his side to face the wall.

Touya likes the versatility.

Keigo pressed a kiss to Touya’s cheek, “Anything you don’t want, love?”

Touya’s aquamarine eyes meet Keigo’s with a trust that makes Keigo’s heart flutter tenfold, “Just don’t pull my hair. You can touch it, play with it, whatever, but not… like the way I do it to you.”

Keigo pushes Touya’s hips slightly forward, his large wing coming around to surround their bodies in an open cocoon, the feathers at the end dancing around the twinkling jewelry of Touya’s pierced navel, “Got it, Hot Stuff.”

He grabs the meat at the back of Touya’s inner thigh to spread him wide, pulling Touya's leg over his hip, and slides right in.

Keigo’s pelvis presses against the tops of Touya’s asscheeks and his cock is nestled so deep.

They both groan.

The all-encompassing heat around Keigo is absolutely maddening, and Keigo’s cock hits all of Touya’s right places.

Touya encouragingly moves his hips back with a whimper, and Keigo sighs in his ear, “Oh, Touya. You’re so fuckin’ lovely like this.”

The dam breaks.

Keigo’s hands are everywhere; squeezing Touya's tits, pressing into his belly, smoothing over his balls, and touching where they both connect, occasionally slipping a finger alongside Keigo's cock to hear Touya whine and feel the hitch of his breath through devoted feathers. Keigo uses the hand under Touya’s neck to smooth back his dampened bangs and kiss his smooth forehead, turn his jaw to capture his mouth and suck on his tongue. Keigo clasps his hand gently around Touya’s delicate throat — not choking but just enough pressure to remind Touya that Keigo is here, with him, around him, on him, in him.

When Touya comes, it’s with Keigo’s name on his lips, Keigo’s spit in his mouth, and feathers wrung tight around his thighs. It’s the look of Touya’s expression when he orgasms, his upturned brows and open mouth, that tips Keigo over the edge, too.

They stay like that for a moment, connected and dazed in the afterglow, with Touya’s hand buried in Keigo’s hair and Keigo's talons pressing into the meat of Touya’s chest.

When the haze finally clears, Keigo gently pulls out and rolls to collapse on his back, breathing heavily, “Wow. Fuck.”

Touya snorts, he can’t help but agree, “Yeah.”

He rolls to his other side and curls up against Keigo, folding an arm over the blond’s sweaty chest while red feathers scoop as much of the mess off Touya’s stomach before they float off to the sink.

“Rest, Kei. Put your feathers down and relax.”

Keigo winds an arm around Touya’s shoulders, “This is the most relaxed I’ve been in years,” before he uses a hand to press taloned fingers against Touya’s jaw and angle his head up, “We’re definitely doing that again. Gimme, like, ten minutes.”

Keigo catches Touya’s laugh in his mouth, and as he slowly kisses the hero, Touya thinks that if this is his last night of freedom, then he’s okay with it.

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almostempty · 1 month ago

Text

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3!

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls!

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.”

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest.

“Anymore?”

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point?

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you.

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor.

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you.

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized.

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you?

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing.

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead.

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock.

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his.

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat.

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath.

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time.

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk.

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure.

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave.

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan.

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating.

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath.

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives.

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure.

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn.

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing.

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him.

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.”

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once.

“Then don’t.”

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?”

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth.

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.”

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy.

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.”

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled.

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes.

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.”

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name.

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length.

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless.

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him.

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself.

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight.

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking.

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?”

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move.

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer.

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you.

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore.

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now.

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip.

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next.

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.”

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly.

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness.

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.”

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre.

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you.

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void.

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you.

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word.

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track.

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath.

Maybe he does know.

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

#lucien de leon x f!reader #pedro pascal character smut #lucien de leon x reader #lucien de leon x you #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfic #pwp fic #the uninvited #lucien flores #but not #lucien x f!reader

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