#WHAT IS A MAN //THROWS WINE GLASS//

[xxplastic-cubexx]

theres also an xmen 97 variant for magneto! i'd show you but i deleted the game. anyways, erik's luscious locks in 97 reminds me of castlevania dracula

no joke On My Life when i saw 97 magneto for the first time i thought the exact same shit almost immediately 😭😭

[screampied]

PARTITION! g. satoru

ৎ୭ sum. your sugar daddy, satoru’s worst fear happened. he fears you’re too much of a spoiled rotten brat. screw riding in his expensive private limousine—you wanted to ride something else instead. (him, duh)

wc. 7.3k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy gojo! au, age gap (early twenties + thirties), car sęx, bratty reader, unprotected, getting eaten out the window, tít job, reverse cowgirl, doggy, cunnīlingus, nanami cameo, slight alcohol consumption, size kink, cęrvix kissing, possessive themes (wearing waist beads w his initials), implied multiple rounds, he’s sooo whipped, bręeding.

➤ sd! gojo masterlist

“meet my baby here, sweets. charlotte.”

“satoru, what.”

as satoru had an arm slinked around your waist, brushing a thumb across the jewels that stuck against of of the many designer blouses he’s bought you within the past week, he hums. the two of you were staring straight at a limousine. it was icy blue like his eyes with a plethora of dark-tinted windows. to even top it off, it had ‘G.S limousine service, inc.’ carved into the side of one of the doors in bright, blue cursive.

you huffed, smearing your glossed lips together. “you named your limousine?”

“heh, well she’s yours now,” he hums, guiding you toward the slid open doors. “c’mon, there’s a club i wanna take you to. if we leave now, we can beat the press.” and satoru takes a peek at his gleaming, pricey watch. he helps lifts the back of your long skirt from touching the ground before you step in. immediately, you’re hit with flashing lights inside the luxurious car and its plush red seats.

“where to, sir.” a blond chauffeur adjusts his mirror with a sigh, taking a short glance at you.

satoru throws an arm around you, tugging lightly on his tie that’s tucked neatly in his suit. “ah, kento, meet my girl. and please—drive us to my private lounge,” satoru kisses your cheek as you sit, whispering in an impish, low tone. “buckle up, sweetheart. ‘s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

the seats were oh-so-soft, a violent hot color of maroon as the entire limo was lit up with nothing but dim flashing, flashing lights.

it was bright, the size alone was probably bigger than a simple normal bathroom. satoru saw you taking in the luxurious life like you always did, craning your head from left to right before peering at the empty wine glasses in front of you both.

“it’s so pretty,” you hummed, your head resting against his shoulder.

once you’re laid against him, you’re smacked with his signature loud cologne scent. it was always a scent you’d never forget, nor could you get used to.

it’s strong, making you take the citrusy manly aroma in silence every time.

with a raised brow, you look up at the white-haired man before timidly murmuring, “wait- what do you mean this is mine? like.. the whole thing?”

“yeah, silly girl,” satoru brushes a thumb around the center of your forehead in invisible circles.

you’ve grown to get weak with his tender touch every time. cerulean-iced eyes lock against you lovingly, and that’s when that cunning grin spreads at each side of his crooked lips. “think of it as an uh- surprise gift for the new year.”

with a pout, you open your mouth to complain. “satoru- last week, you just bought me-”

“a convertible, and i’d do it again in a heartbeat,” satoru whispers, planting another kiss near your temple.

your incoming words come to an abrupt pause, and the cute speechless look you gave him always made him hum in amusement.

one of the many things satoru liked- no loved about you, was that you were always so humble.

you were forever grateful, but you couldn’t help but be hesitant sometimes at how much he’d constantly spend for you. satoru continued to shower you with compliment though—constantly reassuring you that he wanted to splurge his money on you.

you were living the dream - literally.

embodying the life of a rich girl, a type of rich girl where you’d usually see in cheesy movies or sung in iconic songs by artists like gwen stefani.

even though it’s been a full-blown year, you’ve started to grow accustomed to the sweet luxury of being a sugar baby.

satoru gojo’s sugar baby.

but he wasn’t starting to see you as just his pretty ‘lil sugar baby though, that much was apparent.

satoru didn’t expect you to not only take his money but his heart too.

and he never minded.

he couldn’t put a price on that anyway.

“besides,” he grabs a clear, empty glass and an unopened bottle from underneath the fuzzy, red seat. with a flick, satoru removes the cork that is plugged near the top with just his thumb and middle finger. as he pours a small portion of wine inside, the velvet-colored liquid stains against all sides of the glass.

“what’s mine is yours, baby,” he takes a sip before sighing at the cassis flavor hits against his tastebuds, “ ‘s what my sweet thing deserves.”

as you’re still pouting, the limo continues to drive.

the windows were tinted, but it was clear as day when you looked through them to take a quick peel. as usual, the roads were quite busy with rush hour but it was a smooth ride nonetheless.

however though, you had to admit, you were getting a bit… bored.

satoru sat man spread, both of his wide legs taking so much unnecessary space before he contemptibly sighed again. with one of his arms still wrapped around you, you took a moment to take in his suave, handsome appearance.

he always was draped in nothing but tuxedos—

after all, without the whole sugar daddy side thing, you sometimes forget how satoru was a literal well-known businessman.

he never really went into the specifics of his work, but you knew he was the CEO of some private company.

satoru was a very powerful man, a man with a big net worth … but an even bigger heart.

the shoes that satoru wore were dress shoes of his own brand, of course. in the luminous, glittery lights of the inside of the limousine—the shoes were visibly spit-shined from top to bottom. his suit’s dark black, and the handkerchief that stuck out of his front chest had the imprints of your lipstick on it.

of course he kept that.

his hair..

it’s messily ruffled but somewhat presentable, slicked back as usual with a faint side part. over time, you started to notice how he was growing facial hair too.

it’s subtle, and you’d have to squint but you saw it. you saw how specks of white hair were trying to form down near his chin.

it was attractive nonetheless, and the thought of satoru growing a stubble had you squeezing your thighs together in shame.

after all, he was in his early-thirties so he was bound to grow some facial hair at some point. he’s always been a well-shaved man, but the image forever plagued your mind.

“yeees, sweets.” he snaps you out of your little fantasm, the near-empty wine glass still in his hand. he sits the expensive bottle of ‘screaming eagle’ near the limo’s bar that was covered with dozens of tiny, pretty rhinestones.

“h.. huh?” you stammer, blinking thrice.

shit.

the way you stared at him was like a deer in headlights. caught red-handed!

that same wry grin that stretched so slyly pried at both cracks of his lips before satoru tilted his head. “you’re starin’ y’know,” and you felt his hand placed on your thigh. “is my baby bored?”

“a little,” you admitted, hearing the loud screeching of tire wheels and screaming horns of other cars in the background.

only satoru could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world..

slowly, satoru dragged his pink tongue over his upper lip which was a bit damp from the scarlet-colored wine.

you sucked in a raucous breath - your thoughts turning more ‘n more filthy by the second.

his lips.. they were so perfect, naturally glossed, and forevermore had a plump downward curve. you could stare at them all day, and your eyes widened once a drip of wine started to trickle down the right side of his lip.

“ooh- excuse me. guess ‘m a bit messy today,” he throatily chuckles, feeling the coldness of the red droplet race down his skin. “would you be a doll ‘n lick that up for me, sweetheart?”

“okay-” you comply right away, positioning yourself on his lap.

satoru titters, cocking his head lazily toward the left as you get comfortable. cute, he thinks.

he could already tell how eager you were. also, he didn’t tell you the duration of the ride but it was probably about a good hour.

like hell could you even wait that long.

it felt like time was so cruel - standing still as you inched closer and closer toward his face. satoru laid man spread the entire time, eyeing you closely with his gaze never leaving yours.

he paws a big hand near your waist, hearing your pretty airy breaths pick up.

“stop looking at me like that-”

“aw, is it a crime to stare at my gi-”

satoru’s fatally silenced with a kiss.

it’s a rough one, and you couldn’t wait to run your tongue across the remnants of cherry-flavored wine that now started to drip down his chin.

it tasted sweet - a spicy cherry flavor, and you moaned once his knee aligned itself between your thighs.

his thigh was so bulky too, even underneath the lanky, slender slacks he wore. satoru was a particularly ripped guy in general — you knew his workout routine like the back of your hand, and sometimes he’d even let you do sets with him.

(sets that mainly consisted of you sitting on his back while he did push-ups orrrr sitting on his abs while he used barbells in his private gym)

“mhm~” you moan against his lips, hearing the competitive sounds of teeth rudely smacking against each other in vigorous sync.

each tongue’s on a dangerous mission, desperately trying to dominate the other and you couldn’t help but melt.

your twisting, hot tongue started to wander, creating a slippery snail trail near the crack of his mouth before nibbling on his bottom lip. “sa- satoruu.” you’d breathe, one hand giving his tie a needy, impatient pull.

“heyyy, you know i don’t speak whine,” he whispers, breaking away from your lips for a second.

your lips were already swollen, slickly shining with saliva that could’ve been an easily replaceable substitute for lip gloss. “use those words, sweetheart,” and it was like the more he spoke, the deeper his voice seductively pitched.

the knee that still rested between your sprawled open legs didn’t make things easier either. “tell me what you want ‘n maybe i’ll give it to ya, hm?”

with a huff, you mumble a soft, “you-”

“well yeah, me silly! elaborate for me though.”

“i want- i want you.. i want all of you satoru. right now,” you go into more detail, leaning in to paint a slope of wet kisses down his neck. satoru’s collar was a bit unkempt—some exposed skin showed above his collar which you then brought upon yourself to attack with kisses. “pretty please.”

“hah- but.. you already have me,” he inhales, groaning once he feels you starting to grind against his lap.

satoru’s touch was pure static..

his fingers couldn’t help but mindlessly roam, tickling against your bare skin that protruded through the minuscule squares of your ripped fishnets.

the stare you two shared was just so intimate, and he could almost already smell your lusty, loud arousal..

“mhm- y’know, what i want too?” satoru huskily whispers against your ear, grunting as your hips slooooowly rubbed against his visible boner.

hugely, it stuck out through his jet-black slacks. leave it to you to always make him hard.

“tell me.” you reply with a chastened frown, sliding a hand up his loose button-up. your hand enters underneath his shirt and his skin is so warm that it feels like his entire body is on fire.

right away, your curious palm gets a taste of his hardened abs that were nearly akin to the texture of a damn brick.

rigid, flexing muscles of satoru’s relax at your touch before he grabs a nice chunk of your ass.

“oh, nothing! ‘m just a.. ‘lil thirsty, sweets..”

♡ ♡ ♡

“ohmygod-” you’d squeal, cupping a clammy palm over your mouth.

when satoru said he was thirsty, you surely didn’t expect him to have you hanging out the window with your ass perfectly perked out.

with a single hand, he pulled up your skirt, raising it to the brink of your waistline while dragging your pretty lace panties to the side with a single thumb.

you were partially hanging out the window - safely though, he’d never let you fall.

satoru had an arm wrapped around your waist, one hand sliding down your thigh. vehemently, his tongue swirled circles around your clit before giving it one looooong suck.

his lips puckered, and he could already feel your hips starting to stutter against his mouth.

“mng- ‘toru,” you’d heave, wriggling your ass around his face. the tip of his nose started to rub up and down your slit too, and he’s shamelessly getting a whiff of your candied mess.

he was always so nasty, proudly spitting on your pussy, lapping it up before it dripped onto the thousand-dollar seats.

“mhh- wiggle that ass a little more for me baby, dance with my.. haaah- tongue,” he whispers airily, thumbing a fat finger near your pulsing clit. satoru found it so cute how you’d pulse every time he’d smear slippery circles around your pussy.

you just couldn’t help it!

you’re sucking in each ‘n every breath, sinking the edges of your teeth into your bawled knuckle to suppress your moans.

a strong gust of wind strikes you as the car continues to move, and you’re just meekly smiling at the cars that pass by.

from their points of view… the drivers are just seeing some random girl slightly hanging out a halfway-lowered limousine window.

in reality though,

you were getting eaten out while dozens of cars speedily drove past you.

through your slightly blurred peripherals, you saw satoru’s chauffeur who you remember hearing him address as ‘kento’ earlier, giving you a peer through his side-view mirror. he had his hands firmly on his steering wheel, scoffing to himself with a head shake.

he mumbled something under his breath as he looked away, focusing his browned eyes on the talking GPS that read him the directions to the destination.

from your sweet, repetitive moans, you couldn’t exactly make out what he said but from a quick read of his lips, you’d probably guess it was something like:

“i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

as you’re still hung out the window, your legs part a bit - causing your eyes to widen.

satoru’s slurping you clean, skipping frisky plump fingers down your thigh before cupping his plump lips around your pussy. his head, it moves back and forth, ferociously shifting side to side like a damn madman.

you probably looked soo stupid. your mouth stayed open the entire time with your jaw forever dropped—dangling like an earring.

“fuh- fuuuck,” your trembling voice pitches higher, and you claw a hand near the back of your ass.

tightly gripping at a piece of your ass, it fits around your hand entirely before you turn to look back at satoru.

already, his chin’s got a pretty coat of your juices pouring down his jaw. his tongue was just hungry, wanting far more than just a few sips of his expensive screaming eagle..

you were far sweeter than any beverage, and satoru continuously took big, big gulps.

he treated his lips like a straw, pursing them to suck before slurping every single drop of you clean until you could barely hold your legs open.

“mhm- look at alllll this pretty fuckin’ ass,” he groans, removing your hand that was gripped on your rear.

with a whack! he hits it, humming at the cute ‘lil jolt of your shimmying body.

your skin jiggles in his face instantly, and you feel his curving tongue precisely slow its frantic pace down by the second.

there….

the tip of his pointed tongue stretched itself so far out that it clicked itself against your precious g-spot. “mng- spread y’rself wider, baby. ‘m not done with my.. hah- drink.”

“suh- sssatoru,” you’d drag out your whiny, pathetic words.

your brows formed into a furrow as your hands grabbed onto the edges of the rolled-down window. sweaty, perspiring fingertips imprinted the fogged glass as he licked every wet orifice thoroughly.

thankfully, some music was blasting in the background—seemingly drowning out your constant, pleading whines and whimpers..

satoru’s designer tie even gets a bit wet - you’re drip drip dripping, tears of glossy slick pouring flawlessly from both sides of your legs. he brings a thumb toward your hole, feeling your cute wriggles before spitting down your pussy.

slowly, the webby string trails a straight, sloppy line down and he licks it up — removing his thumb and starting at your hole before lapping his tongue down the bottom part of your pussy.

he’s wholeheartedly feral - animalistic, working his tongue until your brain turns into mush.

eventually, you ended up crawling back into the spacious limousine and landed on your back.

with your legs still spread, satoru lifts your thighs, continuing his feast. “mmph- get back here, sweets. ‘m not haaah- done,” he’d jibe each time he’d squint to see your cute weak pulse up close.

you’re impatient - desperate for your release so much that you could almost taste it..

it tasted sweet with a bit of tang, and the more you fantasized about your inevitable orgasm— the more more more you were starting to blank out all on his tongue.

“mnh- attaaaaa girl, let ‘toru get a nice good sip.” he’s still slurping you, a few excess juices smearing against his cheek.

satoru’s long, white lashes flutter open and close as he relishes in your treacly taste.

you just couldn’t stay still though.

with the way your hips cutely tossed ‘n turned each time his tongue delved inside of your sopping cunt, he’d think your middle name was ‘squirmer.’

time drags by for a looong time, not as long as satoru’s tongue though.. not by a long shot..

it flicked its way through each spot, munching proudly against your clit before your tummy tucked inward. your brain haywires, and with your mouth wide open — the only sounds that escaped were small, labored breaths.

you’re cumming, and your lashes frantically blinked at so many blinks per second. your muscles that were once tense relaxed as you’re finally succumbing to pleasure.

you squealed out that final, harmonic battle cry before your head plopped into the edge of the limo’s seat.

“fuck- fuck, fuuuck,” you’re whimpering, repeating the same swear like a broken record as you feel him grab ahold of your writhing hips.

his tongue’s length curved its way everywhere, creating a path to remember as it made itself known at all tender areas of your pussy.

“uh huh- that’s it, good girl. ride it out, riiiide it out, i gotcha,” he groans, laying his tongue fully flat. it’s a rose-like pink, soddened tastebuds sizzling in contempt once you’re ‘quenching’ his thirst with your sweetened arousal.

buzzing sounds went in and out of your ears as you just released huff after puff through your lungs. satoru’s lips were glossed with nothing but your slick, even more than they already were.

he gives your poor, convulsing clit its last finally smooches before reluctantly breaking away.

“hah- never a dull moment with her,” he licks his lips from top to bottom, grabbing out his lipstick-stained handkerchief before patting underneath his chin. “you okay, sweetheart?”

“ ‘m okay,” you breathe, still feeling tingles surge through every one of your veins that ran down your wobbly, numb limbs. your legs had it the worse.

you barely felt anything, and satoru helped you back to your feet.

it was a limo, so it wasn’t like you could exactly stand but you sufficed by crouching just below the fuzzy-made hood.

satoru lies slouched back - giving his lap a few playful pats before tilting his head at you. “c’mere, sweet thing,” and his voice was dripping with erotic silk.

his ocean-strong eyes zero down at your body, trailing up up up before eventually stopping just about your waistline.

your skirt was now off — pulled to the floor and so were your panties. you only had your matching blouse on. you got an idea though, and satoru watched you get on your knees. “oh..?”

“ ‘toru,” you speak in shortened puffs, still trying to get over your recent teeth-shattering orgasm. every sensitive axon and nerve located in your body was screaming at you, aching for more stimulation as time passed.

as your hands casually spread his long legs wider across the cushioned seats, you hummed. “remember those waist beads you ordered me a few weeks back?”

“mhm,” he nods, eyes never darting away from your wriggling body for a second.

satoru wondered what your game was.

as he was trying to prevent himself from smiling, he was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe you were starting to get just a liiiiitle bit spoiled.

as his legs were fully sprawled apart, you brought your hands toward the hem of the designer blouse that stuck against your skin. you honestly lost count of just how many clothes satoru’s bought you within the past year.

he watches closely - zeroing down at your figure, nipping on his lip as he stares at you leisurely pulling the piece of clothing off of you.

satoru’s seen your skin countless times, but there was just something about your body that he just couldn’t get enough of.

couldn’t get enough of you..

if he was being honest, he could stare at you all day.

“look. it fits perfectly,” you speak in a sweet tone, your thighs stuck together as you were still dripping from the inner crevices. you could feel yourself throbbing, and it took everything in you to not let out a moan.

satoru tsks, kissing his teeth once he’s now exposed to your skin.

the damn beads,

they wrapped around your waist and indeed fit your entire torso. his eyes studied the gold that went around your raised hips, whistling once he saw those two crystallized initials - his initials.

‘G.S’

the small two letters hung on one waist bead that was drooped low near your naval and an extra twin pair near the charms behind your back. “fuuuck- know that’s right,” satoru huffs, his breathing starting to get a bit heavy.

“all mine, heh- looks so damn pretty on you,” and as his eyes continued to meander down your skin, satoru’s head rests back against the softly cushioned seat. “hm- how ‘bout you model for me? show off that gorgeous body a little more f’ me.”

“say ‘please’,” you’d get on his lap, wrapping your arms around him. satoru looks up at you with a mere pouting scowl, a hand instinctively attaching itself to your hip.

“pleaaase, oh-pleaseeee sweets. don’t tease me too bad, you’re bein’ a bit of a spoiled girl right now,” he whispers, bringing wet, cold lips toward the corner of your neck. you moaned, feeling satoru’s free hand strum a few fingers down your waist beads.

they clank clank clanked, creating pretty jingle sounds at each faint movement before you started to move your hips.

“goddamn-” he holds in a breath, practically wordless as his eyes continued to rove.

briskly, you slowly turned yourself around, teasingly popping your hips to the dropping beats of the song that played through the limo’s speakers.

satoru’s suddenly short of breath, circling a thumb around the left cheek of your ass. he’s so hard, and you could feel it the more you rubbed your ass right up against thaaat particular spot.

he sucks his teeth once more, grunting as he feels the cloth knead against your skin so good..

“woman, you’re bein’ such a bratty tease right now..” and he could taste that round, large lump forming near the very back of his throat.

satoru shivers as your hands place on the crown of his knees, and you’re starting to rock rock rock back ‘n forth his throbbing boner. “hmph. the things i let ‘cha get away with, lucky ‘m not.. haah- fuck, bending ya over my lap, baby.”

“you talk a lot for a guy with a boner this hard, ‘toru.” you shrug, continuing the sensual jerking of your hips.

he’s grunting at every swift turn of your body, hearing his heart loudly thump through his ears.

the limo’s speed picks up a few miles and you could hear the grumbling from underneath the vehicle as you stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“mmh- fine, since you said please.”

as you’re still facing the other way, you reach for his buckle with your fingers brushing near the cold straps. you couldn’t see, so he grabbed your hand—guiding you where to unbuckle his slacks.

“f.. fuck, hurry up. you rubbin’ against me isn’t helping matters at all, y’know,” he tries to laugh but it comes out very dry.

satoru just wanted to be inside you, making you remember your place with a few sloppy strokes.

you giggled, hearing his pants and boxers sliiiide down to his ankles with a thud before jostling your rear way back against his leaning cock. it hung so cutely, and its tip was swollen with veins protruding at a few girthy sides.

with satoru still having a hold of your hand, he makes you touch the leaking head. “ooh,” you hum, twirling a thumb around his tender frenulum.

as you do so, he moans out the sluttiest moan, pretty white lashes squeezing shut for about three seconds to savor this moment.

“heh.. little girl,” he gutturally prowls, aligning his dick in between the crack of your fleshy mounds. it’s very hard, and you hummed at the warmth he provided. “go on then.. ride me in reverse, sweets. this the ride you wanted all along, hm?”

“yeaah,” you played along, almost seeing the weary smirk unfurl across his lips as he spoke.

you couldn’t wait any longer either.

you were throbbing persistently, every fiber of your being longing for satoru to ease his way inside of your pretty, sobbing cunt.

he was so big that your hand could barely wrap around the entity of his length. instantly, your palms met with various veins as you raised your hips moderately.

his vermillion-shaded tip carefully hovered over your dripping hole, and satoru’s just heavily breathing at your stilled body.

“mngh-” you released a rough, jagged breath once you were slowly making your way down on his cock.

like usual, you’re presented with that loving tiiiiight stretch that lasts for about a good four seconds.

satoru’s tip alone was big, and it pummeled through your insides as his inches started to leisurely disappear.

it’s such a lewd scene - a scene he wouldn’t mind replaying over ‘n over again in his head..

your pussy sings out sloshes of wet high notes in harmony, trying to take in his weighty shaft.

your mouth opens up on its own, and you’re breathing out colorful swears of ‘ohhh fuuuck’ ‘s as you continue to sink your way down.

from the both of you, countless breathy breaths were drawn from both raspy lungs as the mouthwatering penetration continued.

it felt like a squeeze pinching near your insides, tickling around you from the inside before adding pounds of pressure pressure pressure..

your hands go back to being placed on his knees, whimpering as his slick cock eases its way inside of your pussy. spongy, clamping walls hugged around him like a vice and your teeth were starting to feel that familiar chatter.

“god- always s- so fuckin’ big, ‘toru,” you moan, your bratty ‘lil façade shortly faltering once he’s finally buried balls fuckin’ deep.

the pit of your tummy was constantly heaving, cowardly sucking itself in and out at the sheer weight of his size before you eventually relaxed.

“perfect fit for my perfect… hah- girl.” he grunts, taking a quick peer down at your unbalanced thighs that struggled to move at first.

gradually, your hips started to move and greeted satoru’s lap with a sharp, rude slam. once you started to adapt to a rhythm, your hips rolled and rolled.

“agh- that’s i.. iiiiit,” he choked on his saliva, playing with the waist beads that danced against your torso as you moved.

satoru moans, feeling his fat base smush its way against your ass once you sat down. your hips were reeling, winding back into his pelvis like a wind-up toy.

with parched, hot skin amongst skin - the sounds echoed against the limo, nearly sounding over the music that played in the background.

satoru’s watching as you plop straight back into him before you sprightly wriggle your hips in a seductive circle.

“my, ain’t you a naughty girl..” he tosses his head back in overwhelming rapture, feeling his dick twitch inside you as the sloppy sounds continue.

it was hard not to hear - if it was anything satoru knew about your pussy, he knew that it was always, always vocal with him..

you’re slamming back against his lap every time, squeezing your palms against the crowns of his knees with your body twirling and falling back into his inviting lap.

if you kept riding him like that, he’d really be head over heels.

“ugh- yeah, girl. ride it, ride this dick like it’s yours because it fuckin’ is,” satoru grunts, feeling your cunt tighten for a second at his exact words. “heh- did my messy girl like that? like hearin’ that ‘m yours, sweetheart?”

“mhm,” you’d nod with your lips clamped shut.

he’s just so big, stretching through your insides with such ease. the once slow and steady beats of your heart were now thump thump thumping!

satoru’s bulbous-shaped tip had a hooked upturning curve, and fuck did you feel every sloping curve as you bounced up ‘n down on his cock.

it’s so good that your mouth’s pathetically watering from the inside, and you’re already starting to feel that burning sensation electrify through your aching, stretched muscles.

“mngh- look at this body, s… so damn-” and he pauses, clenching his jaw at the sloppy wet feeling of your barriers bear-hugging around his cock.

you’re just working your hips like it’s a full-time job, throwing them around in a circle so fast that even satoru could barely keep up.

with thighs upon thighs upon thighs, your skin sticks against his like glue. a trail of colorless slick smears down satoru’s leg and he moans at the loud slaps of zealous, clapping skin.

you’re sticky still, and he’s moaning louder once the speed of your hips quickens.

“yeah? yeah, better- fuckin’-ride-me,” and even though his voice faintly cracks, satoru still manages a sort of poised, cocky persona.

multiple ‘encouraging’ swats hit against the cheeks of your ass and you’re whining, putting your all into the movements of your jerking body. satoru’s snowy brows contort before he gives your waist beads a soft tug.

“do it, fuck me, baby. ‘n while you’re at it..” and as you’re still moving your hips, you feel a bit of paper rain down your back that’s starting to perspire with sweat.

“fuck-” satoru grunts smokily, staring as hundred dollar bills fall down your bare spine. “forgot ‘ta give you your allowance, might as well give it to you now.”

“hngh- satoruuu,” you whined, his cock hitting its way through every spot. it french-kisses near your clit before passionately making out with your cervix.

it located both spots easily, and the feeling had your toes curling inside of your four-inch heels.

satoru ended up tossing those same bills down your back, staring as it prettily fell down your body before landing on his lap and the limo’s cottony carpet.

“ ‘m gonna cum i think,” you moaned, slowing your turning hips in hypnotic, carnal arcs. satoru’s hands were brought to your waist with two thumbs pressed at each side of your hips. “ ‘m cummin’ satoru.”

“me too, s.. sweets,” he swallows, hissing silently at the unsteady bucking of your bouncing ass.

your rear jiggled at each slamming thrust, ricocheting against his thighs and it was just so mesmerizing to watch.

satoru’s feeling the scorching tip of his cock grow hot, and he’s starting to feel all types of contractions arise within his muscles. “god- tell me where to tell me where.”

“inside,” you moaned, bringing your hands toward your chest to cup to bouncing tits. you squeezed them, smearing a thumb around your hardened nipples before making yourself even more aroused.

it’s just so much to process.

your rutting hips, the loud squelches of your pussy, satoru’s dick driving through you repeatedly.. oh, you were in a daze.

“f- fuuuuck. be a… hah- good girl ‘n take it all then.” he groans, elated euphoria swelling within him.

you stuck against his lap so good, slickly sliding your ass back before going forward, then back into his pelvis again.

your movements alone left such a good taste in his mouth, and once he feels himself about to burst - he fuckin’ bursts.

a massive load spurts out of satoru, shooting deeply into your fluttering womb as your hips come to a freezing still.

you’re cumming too - whimpering as you’re gushing down on his cock while being absolutely filled.

wads ‘n wads of milky, gooey cum floods inside of you, plugging you to the fullest. you’re both moaning lowly, rocking against each other in rushed unison before you arch forward.

your ass was fully bent over, and satoru stared openly as he was still shooting such deep, frothy amounts inside of you.

you looked so pretty like this that he couldn’t help but mentally take a picture, widely peering at the foamy droplets of cum that started to trickle their way down his overwhelmed base—creating a sparkling white ring.

it’s still as thick - still as veiny, and satoru makes you raise your hips ever-so-slightly.

doing so, he stares at your soddened pussy that’s lewdly spitting out a few heaps of cum before hearing that cute wet ‘plop!’

“fuckin’ dirty girl..” he huffs, one hand softly caressing your waist beads. he takes a glance at the ‘G.S.’ initials that were engraved near the back side of the many other charms, and he sighs.

right as you’re pulled up to where his creamy tip was juuuust about to slide away from your soused opening, satoru gives your stuffed pussy a soft pat.

“don’t know who’s dirtier…. herrrr,” he mumbles, swabbing a thumb around your cum-covered hole before bringing it up to his mouth.

with a wet smacking ‘ccht’ of satoru’s lips coming together—he licks his thumb clean, cooing silently at the taste of himself like the filthy, filthy man he was. “or you.”

♡ ♡ ♡

after many, many positions, you found yourself losing multiple rounds with your shallow breath as if even breathing was a mere contest. he’s had you in position after position, folding you like a freshly baked pretzel. it’s almost like the two of you weren’t literally in a limousine.

you hoped his chauffeur nanami didn’t hear. that would’ve been well, embarrassing.

the drive felt like forever.. but, you honestly didn’t want it.. this to end.

you’re a mess, stuffed to the uttermost fullest with ribbons of satoru’s freshly hot cum messily tearing down every slick crevice of your thighs.

currently, satoru had you in one of his favorite positions.

doggy.

part of the reason why he loved it so much was mainly because of the perfect, jiggling view.

your ass - he loved seeing how it would react from each rude smack, swatting his palm over and over again at your cute, tender skin. the pads of your hands pressed firmly into the limo’s seats as he’s just giving you the pound of a damn lifetime.

“mngh!” you’d whine out, drooling from the sides of your jittery, spit-slick lips that refused to stay shut.

he’s effortlessly reaching all the right areas, swiftly pumping his way past that cute taut ring of your entrance that he’s grown to love.

that brief tight stretch nearly makes him lose his mind, and satoru then brings his hands toward your waist. “right there, right fuckin’ th— mmph!”

“shhh, you’re gonna.. hah- miss the best part, sweets,” the white-haired man cups a hand over your mouth.

slow strokes - deeper thrusts..

your eyes rolled ‘n rolled back, gasping against his palm once he sneaks a hand in between your wet thighs. with your waist beads tickling against his wrist, satoru gives your pussy a soft smack.

your wetness ‘splashes’ against the center of his hand, and it even pops out a cute sound too.

“uuugh- ‘m gonna… cum agaiiin,” you’d raise your ass in the air just a bit more, your voice turning more whiny within seconds.

your words were still a bit muffled with his hand covering your mouth, but he still made out your whiny, inaudible words—just barely. .

the sounds of fierce, sharp hips brutally clashing against skin every time made him groan. it’s a booming resounding ‘pop!’ or ‘pap!’ noise every time that makes your entire body ring instead of just your ears.

his cock’s searching through your wet, gripping walls as if it had some sort of life purpose.

“hah- me t.. too, sweetheart,” and fuck, satoru’s drowning in his sweat. “phew-” satoru brings the back of his wrist to wipe some from his forehead. glancing down, he stares at your jouncing ass before giving you one, snappingly deep thrust.

“pussy’s a fuckin’ workout- oh shiiiiit.” and satoru’s feeling you clamp clamp clamp down on him, giving his dick the work of its life.

you could feel the individual staticky pulses of your clit signaling messages to you that you’re just so close and you’re nearly salivating inside of your mouth.

soooo good.. for a moment you forgot the two of you were still in the back of a limousine.

he’s fucking you so good that you could barely think straight.

satoru’s still playing with your pussy, giving it spanks in between his robust thrusts.

his rotund tip beat red, an oxblood blush of red as he continued to ram a heart-shaped sloppy kiss toward your clit.

at that moment, your legs cutely retreated and your chest collapsed forward. “feels s.. sooo good satoru, ngh- ‘toruuu!”

as your body spasmed at the onslaught of his reckless, sloppy thrusts - your hips were all the way raised against his lap.

you’re losing track of thoughts as you’re harshly creaming down his shaft, murmuring out cute little babbles of ‘ooohs’ once you feel his angle deepen.

satoru brings a hand down your fleshy back, staring at your skin that was wetly decorated with sweat while studying the goosebumps that ran down your spine.

“ ‘m gonna.. hah- cum,” he groans, a few stubby fingers thrumming down the gold waist beads that wrapped around your waist.

he brings his thumb toward the tiny ‘G.S.’ initials before pressing his honed-shaped pelvis wholly into you with just a single, barbaric thrust.

“all mine, my pretty… hah- wife.”

wife?

you heard that — you definitely heard it, but part of you wondered if maybe satoru was just overly pussy drunk as usual.

but the thought alone - the thought of actually being his wife of satoru gojo, your sugar daddy, didn’t seem too bad.

as the image of you walking down the aisle crossed your mind, your throbbing brought you straight back into orgasmic reality.

“wait.. hnng- pull out,” you’d moan, another idea popping into your head. instead of satoru usually finishing inside, you had a better idea.

“haah- ‘kay,” he pants, his snapping hips working overtime as they continually mercilessly plunge deep into your heated core.

his rhythm was far slower, but his thrusts were always in such a hurried frenzy.

he’s close - so so close.

you’re still covered with his cum from before from the legs down, and it paints such a pretty canvas on you.

a lewd, erotic canvas maybe..

quickly, satoru ends up pulling out with a hand wrapped around his cock that painfully throbbed. it scrunched up a bit at the sudden coldness, already missing your clingy warmth before you flip over.

“h.. hm?”

“ ‘toru, put ‘em between here.” you spoke in a hushed tone, sinking your knees into the limo’s velveteen-made seats.

he hungrily stares at you with nothing but lust surrounding the entirety of his rounded, dilated pupils. at your sweet, breathy word of ‘here,’ you brought two hands up to your breasts.

“naughty… temptress,” satoru clicks his tongue. aligning his swollen dick in between the crack of your sweat-dripping chest, it easily sliiiiiides its way through.

he watches intently as you squeeze your tits together, glancing up at him with those pretty, siren eyes of yours that were starting to droop.

“mmh,” and as his tip disappears between the slot of your chest, you hang your head down, flicking your tongue across the tender slit of his shaft.

“f- fuck, ‘m gonna cum. can’t- hold it anymore, sweets,” satoru groans, his words so guttural ‘n low that they sounded almost like a growl.

he knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer, not when you were on your knees—stuffing his dick right between your perked tits.

he’s sloppily starting to thrust his cock in and out between the valley of your breasts and felt himself throb at each cute jounce they created amongst each other.

so …. soft.

satoru’s achy tip was forming into an angry shade of bloodshot red, and the entirety of his shaft was smoldering from the stimulation. after a few long milliseconds though—he finds himself shooting white blanks again.

he’s fucking between your tits as you held them together, spraying a nice sum of his load onto your chest. you gasp, a bit landing on your lip and you lick it.

satoru’s moaning - no, grunting as he’s finishing against your breasts. he drags a shaky hand through his tousled, white hair before letting off a deep, heavy sigh.

“ohhh… fuck,” he grumbles, the tips of his ears burning a fiery pink.

his limp cock now remains idle, still buried between your tits before you slide your tongue across the leaking creamed tip.

it’s so glossy, dribbling from all sides with his pasty mess plastered on the upper part of your chest. “didn’t know i had.. such a dirty sweethe- fuck.”

satoru pauses for theatrics — holding his breath, thinking he was still cumming, but he wasn’t.

his mind was simply playing tricks, and his jaw clenched once you lapped up the remnants of bittersweet tasting cum that splattered on you. you used your thumb to reach the spots your tongue couldn’t, and once you were finished, satoru bent down to pull you into a fervent, deep kiss.

you moaned against his lips as the limousine still created miles upon miles. you lost track of time, but you’d guess it’s probably been well over an hour's drive.

“mng-” satoru grunts into your lips, feeling your arms wrap around him. he still had his button-up shirt on the entire time along with his suit just above his torso. he’s tasting himself on your lips, grunting once he felt your hand tug on his ruffled black tie.

your tongue was sticky, swirling a circular pattern around the inside of his mouth before you sucked on his.

satoru allowed you to make him get underneath you, and he felt your legs crawling on top of him.

as you’re both still deeply making out — fighting each other with sharp slaps of teeth smacking against each other, you gingerly pull away.

“i’m your wife now?”

“h.. hm?”

“earlier,” you lick near the corner of his lip. “you said ‘m your pretty wife.”

satoru gives you a sleazy lopsided grin. he looked so pussy drunk that he almost forgot about that tiny piece of dialogue that spouted from his lips.

“ah, i did call you my wife, didn’t i, sweets?” and as a thumb caresses around your cheek, he hoarsely whispers. “well, do you want to be?”

bringing a wet, torrid kiss toward his bottom crooked lip, you hummed. “i do.”

“wish you would’ve told me sooner though,” he sheepishly says, giving his tie a few meek pulls. “i could’ve proposed the right way but.. this is fine too, i gues-.”

“shhh-” you silence him with yet another barrage of kisses, cupping his face.

satoru grunts, hearing the little jangles of your waist brands yet again as your hips laboriously swayed against him.

your forehead is pressed against his and its hit with a bunch of sweat from satoru.

satoru moans from your ardent, vehement kisses, his lips being left all plump, reddened, and not to mention swollen all because of you.

his dick twitches—a prominent vein striking near the left side as you steadily moved your dripping pussy against it in slow, ravishing rocks. “lie back,” you whispered, playfully pushing him back against the seat.

satoru reclines back with a ‘hmph’ and he raises a silvery brow at your audacity. “lie back ‘n let your fiancé ride you again.”

“heh.. yes, mrs. gojo.”

[sticky-sugar]

try it. (matsukawa issei x reader)

tags/cw: roommates to lovers, somnophilia, fingering, mattsun sends porn as a coping mechanism, size kink if you really squint

word count: 3.1k

“i’ve always wanted to try that.” 

issei chokes on his beer when you speak. you point at the tv in explanation, as though he needs one. the scene playing has just started out with a couple in bed, spooning while they fuck. everything’s covered, but it’s easy to tell through the blanket that the woman’s leg is lifted, her back arching against the man’s chest while she cries out lewdly. 

“never been fucked in the morning?” he jokes, keeping his eyes trained on the screen so he doesn’t have to look at you. his laugh sounds awkward even to him. 

“mm-mm.” you shake your head, draining your wine glass, and he can’t tell if that’s a confirmation or a rejection of his guess. but he can tell that that wine bottle on the coffee table is empty, because you would never say these things to him sober. 

“not that part,” you explain. frowning when you realize there’s no wine left, you rise from the couch, disappearing from the room and padding down the hall. issei sighs in relief at the moment alone, running his fingers through his hair and tugging hard.

“she’s drunk,” he whispers to himself, a reminder. “she’s drunk, and she’s your friend. and you can’t afford rent anywhere else, you stupid fuck.” that’ll do it. he’s broke as shit, and you’re a good friend. he can steel his nerves with those facts. 

“she was asleep when he started,” you call from the kitchen. 

fuck. 

issei drops his head back, hitting it on the wall a few times with purpose. fuck, fuck, fuck. 

you come back in, and he straightens, yanking the throw blanket over his lap. you’re too drunk to notice. 

you’re too drunk to notice much of anything, really — including your own running mouth. 

“she was asleep,” you say again. “and he fucked her anyway—“ you rush to explain yourself, holding a hand out when his eyes find yours, wide and uncertain. “consensually, obviously.” 

that doesn’t help. he’d been assuming that, but you confirming it makes it worse.

somnophilia, his mind whispers, the word latching itself to you. 

“i dunno,” you shrug, your refilled wine glass brought to your lips. “i think it’s hot, i guess. i’d try it.” 

he really can’t afford rent anywhere else. 

—

you’re scouring roommate ads in a hungover daze the next morning. 

what is your problem?, you think, rolling over to groan into your pillow. you open your bank app, staring at the number in your checking account and wondering uselessly if it’s enough to afford a place on your own. one where you’ll never have to look mattsun in the face again. 

why did you tell him that?

your brain flashes through two bottles of wine and drunk admissions, and you switch over to uber eats, deciding that cooking is simply not an option today. standing in that kitchen for more then four seconds and risking running into him is not an option. 

you know why you told him that. you know exactly why you told him.

you told him because, despite every coping mechanism you’ve tried over the years of living with him, matsukawa issei persists in being the most attractive man you’ve ever met. 

you told him because you wanted to test the waters. why you would ever test the waters with somnophilia, of all things, and not something standard and vanilla like ‘making out with a friend just happens sometimes’ or ‘drunk hookups aren’t so bad’, you will never know. 

but you’d told him because you think about it. you think about him, doing things like that. things that aren’t standard or vanilla or easily explained or plausibly deniable. 

you think about matsukawa issei fucking you while you sleep. and maybe it’s happened one too many times. maybe now it’s all you think about, enough that it comes up in your stupid, drunk admissions. 

maybe — just maybe — you hope he might take you up on it, now that it’s out there in the open like that. 

but that’s just a maybe. so you’re looking for another apartment, on the very real chance that he’s going to call you a freak and never speak to you again. 

your phone buzzes in your hand. 

it’s a text from him.

[10:17 AM]

mattsun: [link attached]

your face crumples into a frown. “what?” you murmur, jabbing a thumb on the link and hoping it’s not a virus. 

your phone starts moaning at max volume.

you scream, slamming down on the side button to lower the volume as the video intro plays through. your eyes fly to the title.

milf fucked by son’s friend while she’s sleeping

there’s no fucking way he just did that. 

[10:19 AM]

mattsun: smth like that? 

“matsukawa!” you scream, rolling out of bed and storming out into the hall. he’s laughing loudly from his room, and you all but kick his door down. “what the fuck is your problem?!” 

he’s in bed, cackling gleefully and covering his face with his blanket — but his eyes are anything but shy when he looks at you. 

“just trying to ease the tension-“

“by sending me porn?!”

he shrugs and gestures to his phone. “im just saying, you’re not alone! at least—“ he glances down at the screen “—3.8 million other people are into it, too-“ 

you scream in frustration, turning and stomping back to your room. his laughter follows, echoing through your door even when you slam it. 

he does it for two weeks straight. every few days, you wake up to a new link, each video titled something more obnoxious than the last. 

guy takes step-sister while she takes a nap

mom wakes step-son up with a special surprise on his birthday

repairman finds sleeping beauty home alone

each one draws an irritated screech of his name and the echoing giggles of satisfaction from his room. 

you could stop it. in fact, he’s asked you more than once if you want him to. 

‘if you really want me to stop, i’ll stop, he’d said in your kitchen last week.

‘just say the word,’ he’d reminded you on his way out one morning.

‘i think you and i both know how important consent is,’ he’d murmured just two nights ago, leaning on your doorframe, his eyes hot on yours. 

you’d shivered under his gaze and pretended to be engrossed in something on your phone. you’d hoped he couldn’t see the way you’d pressed your thighs together, but when you looked up, he was already staring down at them. 

he’d met your eyes again and just hummed, flicking his dark eyebrows up at you before turning away. your phone had buzzed with a new link only seconds after his bedroom door had clicked shut.

you’re certain he knows why you haven’t told him to stop. that the truth is that you don’t want him to stop. you’re certain he’s testing the waters now, too.

because each video he sends you gets closer and closer to being about roommates. 

your phone buzzes in your hands. you wonder if he knows that you watch each one, waiting for him to pull the trigger on the one that sits unspoken in the space between you. 

he does, a week later.

— 

you’ve caught him, issei realizes belatedly. 

maybe he should have noticed after you started sitting closer to him on the couch. or maybe after you’d refused to tell him to stop sending you porn. or maybe even after he’d sent you something titled ‘roommate can’t help himself while she sleeps’ at 4 in the morning and you hadn’t called the cops on him. 

maybe he should have realized you’d caught him after any one of those. but he doesn’t. he doesn’t realize it, not until this very moment, as you’re standing from the couch and bending over to clean the table of empty beer bottles before bed. 

he doesn’t realize it until he realizes you’re not wearing any underwear. 

he glances at you shamefully when you bend at the waist, hoping you don’t look back and catch him. and then he coughs violently, choking on his own spit and drawing your attention. 

he waves you off, blushing furiously and not even bothering to stop his eyes from flying to your ass when you just shrug and bend over again. your pajama shorts have ridden up, but there’s no lacy edge on pink panties where there should be. 

yes, he’d noticed years ago that these shorts tend to ride up and not mentioned it. yes, he knows what kind of panties you wear. yes, he has a favorite pair. 

what are you gonna do if you find out, call him a pervert? he’d sent you roommate somnophilia porn and you’d made him coffee in the morning.

“‘kay, goodnight,” you mumble, and issei wonders if you’re shy about it or if he’s just hoping you are.

“g’night,” he breathes, eyes finding yours. you keep eye contact all the way out of the living room. your eyes drop to his lap at the last second, and he watches a grin stretch across your face just before you disappear from the room. 

he looks down at his lap, and then he swears under his breath. he’s visibly hard in his sweatpants. 

—

he feels like a pervert. he really feels like a pervert. 

he stands in the hall outside your bedroom, one hand on the knob, feeling like a pervert. it’s 2 in the morning, and he feels like a pervert.

he sighs to himself and turns the knob slowly — ever so slowly, because he knows how it creaks, and he doesn’t want to wake you. he pushes the door open carefully, and then he finds you in the dark, moonlight spilling over your body. 

you’re completely naked. 

you’re on your stomach, blankets draped over your lower half and one knee bent out toward the wall. issei can see the expanse of your bare skin and the swell of your breast, but you’ve got your back slightly to him, so he can’t see everything. 

but it’s enough. 

he breathes hard, stepping into the room and shutting the door silently behind him. he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging hard and giving a soft sigh as he pads over to you. 

when he lowers his knees to your mattress, it’s with his heart in his throat and his cock straining against his pants. you look so innocent, so sweet like this, even while he’s sliding the blankets off of your skin and exposing you in the moonlight. 

is he really allowed to want this as badly as he does? 

your breath is steady, only changing slightly when he braces himself behind you, propped up on one elbow. he scoots toward you, breath caught in his throat, and then slides his hand under the back of your knee. you shiver, probably because his fingers are ice cold, and he keeps his eyes locked on the side of your face. 

when you don’t give any other sign of waking, he lifts your leg and hooks it backward over his knee, opening your body up for him. 

he swears under his breath, staring down at you in the moonlight. 

you shift, adjusting to the new angle of your body with a sigh. your back presses to his chest, and issei has to press his lips together so he doesn’t moan at the sight of you. 

he keeps his eyes on your face when he slides his fingers along your inner thigh, watching you intensely as his icy fingertips dance close to the spot between your thighs that’s radiating heat. 

when he cups your bare cunt, your skin breaks out in goosebumps, but you don’t move otherwise. issei moans now, because your body knows what he’s doing, but you don’t. 

he’d had a feeling before — in the weeks between that moment on the couch and this moment right here — that he’d unlocked a new, previously untouched fantasy. that his reaction to your drunken admission might have been about more than just being attracted to you. 

he sees it now. now, as he’s sliding two fingers between your folds and watching as you remain completely unaware, he realizes that you’ve done something to him. that you’ve made him want to do this to you, tonight and every night after. 

it takes every ounce of his self-control not to shudder and moan in your ear when your pussy twitches under his fingers, reacting to him even when you don’t. 

he drops his head to your chest, eyes locked on your face as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. your lips part, and he freezes, but the sigh that falls out is nowhere near conscious, so he keeps going, sucking and licking and grazing his teeth over the bud while he massages your cunt with his now-warm fingers. 

the first sign that you’re reacting is the growing ease with which he’s able to push his fingers against you. your entrance becomes slick, and he can’t help that he pushes his hips against your ass in response, seeking relief. he drops his touch lower and swipes the pads of his fingers through the mess there, spreading it all over your cunt. 

when he circles your clit, slippery and warm now, your breathing changes, harder and rougher. the rise and fall of your chest pushes at his mouth, and he latches on with fresh fervor, watching your brows furrow and your lips twitch at the onslaught of sensations. 

it shouldn’t be as easy as it is for him to push his middle finger past your entrance. 

“fuck”, he whispers despite himself, mouth slipping off of you with a gentle pop and eyes rolling back in his head. your walls pulse around his finger, warm and velvety and wet beyond belief. his cock twitches hard in his pants as he slides his finger in and out of you, searching for that spongy spot that’ll wake you up.��

he knows you might have wanted him to fuck you like this, but he can’t help himself anymore. he doesn’t have it in him to be careful anymore. 

when his ring finger joins his middle, it’s with intent. the push is rough, bullying your cunt open with the size of his fingers, no doubt longer and fuller than you can get on your own. 

you shift under him, a quiet noise of question leaving you, and he lifts his head, attaching his lips to the crook of your neck. 

“y/n,” he whispers, more a moan than anything else. “need you.” 

he sucks on the column of your throat while you come to, his fingers curling and spreading inside of you — his sloppy attempt to prepare you for him. 

“h-huh-“ your head lifts slightly, and then you’re slamming it back against the pillow, your back arching. “oh, my god, mattsun-“ 

he almost comes in his pants when you say his name like that. 

“couldn’t help myself,“ he starts, shaking his head and pushing his body against yours almost desperately. “you were so pretty.“ your cunt tightens around his fingers in response, and he files that away for later. keeps it in mind, the things that make you react like this. “need you so bad, y/n-“ 

“yes, god yes,” you breathe, a whine trapped in your throat. you turn your head, back still pressed against his chest, and drop your still-sleepy eyes to his lips.

the coil under issei’s navel tugs hard when he realizes how well he can read you. 

he pushes his mouth against yours eagerly, moan unrestrained when your tongue slides against his. he wonders if you know how often he’s thought of this moment, years of wanting you and craving the feeling of you coming undone under his fingers. 

“please,” you whisper against his lips, back arching when he pushes the pads of his fingers against that spongy spot that makes you whine. “more, mattsun.” 

he groans, shivering when you pull his bottom lip between your teeth. “not yet — it’ll hurt,” he murmurs, leaning on every molecule of self-control.

“i can take it,” you just say, pushing your ass back against his aching cock. “promise.” 

he never had that much self-control to begin with.

his moan comes out in a shuddered breath, overpowered by the sound of you whining when he slips his fingers out of you. he shoves his sweats down to his knees, meeting your eyes and seeing the urgency he feels reflected in your eyes. 

when he slides his cock between your folds, it’s with a choked groan and a heaving pant in your ear. 

“can i- are you sure-“ he stutters, already lining himself up at your entrance.

“please, please, please,” you babble, arching your back to make the angle easier on him. 

you come around his cock before he’s even halfway in. 

there are stars in his eyes by the time you’re done. 

you cry out for him, shaking and clenching down hard, and he can’t do anything except bury his face in your hair and keep your leg lifted high with a trembling hand. 

“fuck,” he breathes, voice tight. “fuck, y/n-“ 

“more, mattsun,” you sob. he thinks you might be the girl of his dreams. 

pushing the rest of the way in, he shoves down his own orgasm, fighting and kicking and forcing it away so he can last more than thirty seconds inside of you. 

he only manages a minute before he’s spilling into you with a stuttered moan of your name, face buried in your neck and head full of static.

you’re just slumped against him by the time he comes to his senses, breathing hard and synced with his.

“sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, ears burning with embarrassment. “i swear i usually last longer than that-“

you laugh, tired and still weak but bright all the same. “yeah — so do i.” 

he snorts, pulling out slowly and letting your leg drop closed, trying his best not to moan at the feeling. 

“are you sure that was okay?” he asks, a tiny inkling of doubt still seeded in his veins. you just giggle, whispering his name in fond exasperation.

“sorry, which part of me sleeping naked was a warning sign?” 

“shut up,” he mutters, curling himself around you and feeling the beginnings of exhaustion start to drain his energy. “i’m staying here tonight. i don’t do one-night stands.” 

you just turn in his arms and wrap your arms around his neck. “was i that good, mattsun? i was asleep for half of it.” 

you’re gonna be the thing that kills him, he just knows it. 

[shotmrmiller]

since Simon isn't one to celebrate much, whether it's a holiday or his own birth, it comes as a complete surprise that one day, he's lugging in a stuffed teddy bear the same height as him through the front door.

did you forget your anniversary? no, that was last month. you dog-ear the page of your book, paper folding neatly beneath your fingers before setting it down on the foot table. oh no. what did he do?

"nothin'," he scoffs, "can't bring my girl nothin' nice every once in a while?"

no, actually, he can't. this looks like a 6-foot apology. you ought to keep an eye on the news tonight, in case that young man from the cafe down the street coincidentally ends up missing after asking for your number in the presence of simon last weekend.

"well it isn't. i can take it back if ya like." the rich, chocolate brown fur feels incredibly soft as you thread your fingers through it.

"no, no. thank you for the oversized bear, i'll be sure to throw out the mattress so we can make it fit in the bedroom." you're no big fan of plushies, but you're no ingrate and if he thought of you when he saw this beast well, then you'll just have to accept it.

it sits in a corner of the room after that, beady eyes pointed your way even when you're on all fours with your sweat-slick face pushed into the bedsheets as Simon pistons into you from behind, or when he stuffs his fingers into your sleepy cunt before he goes to work in the morning.

(maybe it's his exhibitionist kink raging full force. who knows.)

until he decides to bring it into play when your mind is fuzzy from the glasses of wine you had for dinner that night. Simon, with your express permission, ties you up with a sturdy, coarse rope, the kind that feels like you've got tiny little claws digging into your calves and wrists when you try to move. he ties face down, legs and arms to the bear's, cheek flat on its chest, the bow on its neck sitting prettily at the crown of your head.

a doll, he says, roughened palms smoothing over the expanse of your bare skin, raising gooseflesh when he glides a hand along your folds, tip of his finger catching on your clit. lookin' pretty as a peach.

he takes you as if he's trying to fuck you right through the bear, the bed, the fucking floor and you're left to muffle your own cries on the stuffed animal itself, occasionally coming up for air when Simon claims a fistful of hair, breath warming the side of your throat.

you come the first time when he pushes a thumb against the furl of your arse, tight ring of muscle burning with the threat of him sinking into it.

(you stopped counting after the third climax, quietly cursing yourself for bagging a military man who's been so deprived of pussy he keeps fucking you even after his own orgasm.)

when you move it to clean up one day and leave it facing whichever way, by night it's facing the bed again.

definitely an exhibitionist kink.

you'll just ask him nicely to face him another way, the eerie red glow you sometimes catch in its eyes are starting to creep you out.

[eddies-ashtray]

white hot forever

Pairing: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Most days exhaustion plagues him. But tonight, with his last dregs of energy, Logan cooks for you. Though he’s hungry for something far more enticing.

WC: 5.6k

Category: Smut (18+ ONLY, minors dni)

Content: Implied (non-specified) age gap, kissing, Logan throws reader over his shoulder/carries her, cunnilingus, unprotected pnv, reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, petnames (baby, old man, etc), beard burn, 1 single spank, some light nipple play, spitting, kinda dom logan/sub reader, light teasing/mocking, a dash of humiliation kink, lots of manhandling, an inordinate amount of animal metaphor/simile, mentions of logan’s exhaustion/aging due to the adamantium poisoning.

His biceps strain against the thin cotton of his white button-down–the sleeves rolled up–as he finely chops a red pepper. His heavy hand lends to the particularly booming sound of the knife landing on the wood cutting board. But you don’t mind, content to observe from your ideal spot on the countertop of the island. 

A half empty wine glass sits in your palm as your gaze lingers on the smattering of dark hair beneath the low-cut tank he wears under the button-down. 

The kitchen smells of the sweetness of the cooking oil he used and the warmth of nostalgia. Faint memories from childhood of your mother bustling around the kitchen as she prepared dinner linger at the edges of your mind, brought on by familiar scents. When you breathe it in, you also catch lingering traces of Logan’s shampoo and, faintly, sweat. 

“You ever…Ya know,” you pause, swirling the white liquid around. “Use the claws to chop an onion or something?”

Doing your best to suppress a smirk when Logan looks up at you from beneath his brows and pins you with a stern gaze, you hold his eyes. 

You quirk a brow, waiting for his response as a snort threatens to bubble up. 

A smirk cracks through his intense facade, crows feet deepening slightly. With an endearing shake of his head, he huffs a laugh through his nose. Logan’s a bit of a grump—even more so now that his hair has greyed and he’s let his beard grow somewhat unruly—but he’s not without a sense of humour. 

“No,” his voice, though signed with a note of playfulness, is as gruff as always when he rests the knife on the cutting board. “But as you know, they’ve been useful for…other things.” 

The word ‘other’ is loaded with intensity as the hand that previously gripped the knife handle lands deceptively gently on your right knee. It skates roughly up your thigh to thumb at the edge of your skirt. 

You only hum in response. Despite the warmth of the kitchen, a chill runs up your spine and you shiver involuntarily. You’re not sure how he does that. Dial things up to 100 before you can even blink. It keeps you on your toes, even a few years in.  

Now it’s his turn to quirk a brow–ever expressive–when his heavy gaze finally lifts from your legs.

Warmth begins to seep into your chest and stoke a small fire in your belly.

But the growing tension vanishes the moment a timer dings, shrill and intrusive. 

Pulling himself away from your skin to tend to the sound, Logan bends at the knees to pull a steaming dish from the oven. 

The crack of his joints is a quiet popping sound compared to the low grunt he releases when he stands back up to his full height to place the dish on the stovetop. 

He tosses a worn out dish towel over his shoulder–the same one he’d used to pull the food from the oven. 

Watching him carefully as he spins around in search of his whiskey glass, you remark, “You look handsome like this.” 

You pass him the liquor, his large hand wrapping around the glass. 

“Handsome like what?” he asks, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. 

It’s not often Logan has the energy for this. Long days drain him now. Like sweet syrup from a tapped tree, a slow drip that takes and takes.

“Just–in the kitchen with me. Cooking…Taking care of me,” you say. 

Another soft smile graces his lips and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek, a hand at your hip, and your face warms. 

Gulping down a healthy sip of his drink, his throat bobs as he swallows the auburn liquid. When the glass clinks against the marble as he puts it down, you notice droplets linger in his beard. Once you’ve placed your own glass down you reach to thumb away the beaded liquid.

“Hm?” he hums, though it’s more of a growl when he does it, the sound rumbling up from deep in his broad chest. 

“Just got some…” you trail off, expecting him to come to the natural conclusion himself when you lean in and cup his jaw. Feel the roughness of his beard against your palm as you swipe away the small droplet. “There.” 

Logan leans briefly into your touch to kiss the soft skin of your palm in thanks. The gesture makes your heart ache. 

You’re about to pull away, but Logan grasps your wrist in one strong hand, savouring your touch. He’s looking at you with an unexpected hunger behind his eyes as he feels the skin of your wrist beneath his rough palm. You can’t deny the way it revives the searing heat in the pit of your stomach. 

“What?” The word comes out more breathy than you’d intended. 

“Nothin’.” Logan shakes his head, holding your gaze. He releases your hand gently. 

The word lingers in the air between you. 

The way he says it–like it’s not really nothing–wires you right up again. You know he knows it too–his overly keen senses able to pick up the rhythm of your heart hammering against your ribcage. 

You need to expel the energy or let the tension snap but can only think of the intoxicating scent of whiskey on his breath. “You know, I’ve never tried whiskey.”

He’s quick to respond. “No? You want to?” 

“Okay.” It comes out in a whisper. The atmosphere feels too fragile for any other tone.

Logan grabs the crystal glass, just another sip or two remaining. He steals another as he steps in front of you, his left palm falling to your knee to push your legs apart so he has room to stand between them. 

He lingers above you and you lick your lips in anticipation, catching the way hazel eyes darken beneath furrowed brows. 

Then, Logan looks away and you watch as he places the glass down on the counter and his palms flat beside your thighs, effectively caging you in so you’re trapped in his space. Logan is all you can breathe, all you can see, all you can smell as your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. 

Eyes finally returning to yours, his head tilts to the side–cocky, challenging. “Then give your old man a kiss.” 

A whimper nearly escapes you before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and hungrily pressing your lips to his like it’s an order. It may as well have been, gruff as he is. 

Logan grunts in response to your quick action, pulling your leg around his waist so your heel digs into the small of his back. 

The roughness of his beard rubs your chin and cheeks, a pleasant sting against sensitive skin. Though you’re soon distracted when his hand leaves your calf in favour of greedily running up your thigh. They leave heat and tingling skin in their wake, and you gasp into the kiss when he gives the meat of your thigh a generous squeeze. 

His desperation for you is matched only by yours for him as you wind your other leg around his hips to tug him closer. Grunting at your forcefulness, Logan finally slips his tongue into your warm mouth.  

The whiskey on his tongue is overpowering as he kisses you like he’s starving for it–the meal he was making long forgotten. Warm hands brush up the length of your spine, eliciting a subtle shiver, before one of his large palms cradles your skull like you’ll shatter without the support. 

His nose bumps yours as he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth with fervour now. When his spare hand coasts over your chest to grab at your tits over your top, you arch into his touch with a moan like he demands it. 

When you bite his bottom lip he growls, long and deep. A renewed sense of desperation claws at your skin as your kisses become increasingly wanton and sloppy. Tangling tongues generate sounds bordering on obscenity. 

His claws may as well be dragging down your body, leaving bloody marks in their wake with the way his touch makes your skin sing. You hope he leaves bruises when he grasps at the flesh of your hips, pulling your lower-half flush against his pelvis. 

You can feel him, hard and straining against his black slacks. It’s impossible not to moan, lips leaving his as your mouth falls open to release the breathy sound. 

For a moment, you grind against his cock with your forehead pressed to his, using your hands wrapped around his neck as leverage. Feeling back muscles flex under your warm palms. The delicious slide of your soaked panties against his hardness is enough to drive you wild. 

A gasp is pulled out of you when your clit catches briefly on his tip beneath clean slacks. Logan growls through clenched teeth, pressing you into him harder, fervently rolling his hips. The sound makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Logan,” you whimper, aching for him as you pant into each other’s mouths. “Please.” 

“Fuck,” he rasps before he’s scooping you up off the counter, hoisting you up over his shoulder. Squealing at the surprise demonstration of his great strength, Logan strides through the kitchen and towards the living room. 

Desire burns deep in your belly as he carries you across the house like it’s nothing. He’s all broad chest, bulging biceps, and thick thighs. It makes you dizzy. You can’t help but reach out and pinch the meat of his thigh. 

“Hey!” He barks. 

Unsurprisingly quickly, Logan delivers a sharp smack to your ass and you yelp in shock, jolting against him. “So fuckin’ naughty.” 

The lingering sting coupled with his gruff tone has you squirming in his hold, whining low in your throat. 

In a single sudden motion, Logan manoeuvers you off his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch. And suddenly you feel deliciously small pinned beneath his hooded gaze. He towers over you. His staggering height emphasized from your perspective where you lay against the cushions. 

He’s assumed that authoritative stance that has every atom in your body buzzing–his arms crossed over his chest. This paired with his hard gaze is a lethal combination. He’s got that look in his eyes, like what am I gonna do with you? 

“Sorry.” Insincerity bleeds through your tone. You like to get him like this. To rile him up until he is more animal than man. 

Hazel eyes narrow as he grunts, disbelieving your weak apology. 

“You wanna be sorry?” He asks with a quick flick of his chin in your direction.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nod. His chest rumbles with a deep sigh.

Unable to avert your gaze from his face, you bear witness to the glorious sight of Logan shedding his button-down. Your hips wiggle subtly in anticipation–though Logan would call it impatience. The cotton article is tossed carelessly over the chair by the couch.

He crouches down with a soft grunt, nods. “Okay.” 

Swiftly, you are tugged to the edge of the couch by Logan’s hands on your hips. Your skirt gets rucked up your waist, exposing you to the warm air of the house. Though it feels far more jarringly cool between your legs where you’re hot and wanting, pussy weeping for the older man before you.

“So fuckin’ soaked already,” He mutters, more to himself than to you. The comment has pleasure boiling low in your belly. 

“Logan.” He glances up at you briefly then returns his eyes to your cunt.  

You watch with rapture as his nostrils flare, no doubt overwhelmed by your scent this close to your centre. A predator ready to devour its prey. 

For the briefest of moments, Logan admires the wetness seeping through your panties, presses his thumb against the clothed, leaking well just to see your hips jump. Biting back a pathetic whine is far more difficult when his lips twitch into a faint smirk. 

There’s a change in his eyes in a split second where brows lower and pupils dilate. It’s then that he rips your panties down your legs and you swear you hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing. Gasping, you toss your head back between your shoulders, panting and warm all over. 

His chest rumbles with a guttural sound, savouring the sight of you spread open wide and dripping for him. 

Logan’s rough hands rub up and down your thighs, hungry. When they pause you swear you can feel his gaze burning a hole into the column of your throat. 

“Eyes,” He demands.

You obey, catching a glimpse of him stuffing your panties into his back pocket from where he kneels on the floor between your legs. 

The anticipation eats you alive, hips flexing, unable to remain still. Logan pins them down in an instant. 

Everything quiets. Tunnel vision casts out any and all sound or sight besides him. 

“Don’t move,” Is all he says before he’s diving in and devouring you, tongue hot on your sensitive skin. 

“Fuck!” you cry, hands plunging into his hair. 

He’s groaning the second his tongue licks up your cunt, dining on your taste. He gorges on you like he’s been deprived of your taste for far too long and he’s hollow without it. 

You’re drunk and dizzy on the way his beard scratches against your skin. The way the thick hair rubs against your cunt and sensitive inner thighs. A carnal craving satisfied. He’ll pull away after and be covered in you, unable to kiss you without smearing your desire across your own chin. 

The rough tug you give his hair causes him to grunt into you. He eats you out with zeal, an energy that so often eludes him these days. 

“Feels so good…Shit…So-” you babble on, only half aware of the praise spilling from your mouth.

For now, you are not sorry about his overzealous approach. But you will be. After, when the burn becomes a sting. When you are unable to walk for a week straight without feeling the roughness of his beard between your thighs. When he’ll reach over while he’s driving and squeeze your thigh meanly as a reminder. 

For now, you moan unabashedly as he nips at your clit harshly. Free roaming hands find warm skin, grabbing fistfulls of you. Rubbing your thighs, grabbing at your hips, spreading possessively over your stomach. Soon, his hand snakes under your top to squeeze at your tits, and you gasp sharply when he pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger. 

The fire in your belly rages on, burning bright, spitting ash. 

“Logan,” You whine, long and drawn out, when he shakes his head back and forth animalistically, coating more of his beard in your wetness, your scent. He grunts against your pussy at the sound of his name hot on your tongue, the vibrations it causes driving you mad. 

His roughness makes your cunt throb. You derive as much pleasure from the sensation of his tongue licking up your slit and circling your clit as you do from simply watching him like this. His eyes shut in concentration, locked in as he laps up your juices like it sustains him. Like he is taking his fill of you before he hibernates for the winter. 

Just the obscene sounds of his hunger, the slurping and the groans emanating from deep within his chest are enough to prompt your hips to grind up into the pleasure his mouth provides. And he accepts all of it enthusiastically. 

You get lost in it, his wet muscle prodding at your entrance, licking up your slit to spread the wetness he’d collected over your clit. He sucks it between his lips, causing you to groan. 

Briefly, Logan pulls away, and you whine in protest. But his pause allows you to glimpse the parts of his beard that are now matted down with wetness. The sight causes warmth to spread across your chest, equal parts humiliation and pleasure. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he pants against your thigh, warm breath fanning over your puffy cunt. “Look at you,” he slurs, thumb rubbing over your pussy, spreading the wetness all over. 

Your hips jump and you whine again. Logan growls a quiet, desperate sound before diving back in, practically making out with your pussy and inserting two of his thick fingers into your heat. 

“Shit! Lo-” his name gets cut off with a girlish moan, a high sound only he could pull out of you, body completely overwhelmed by the excess of pleasure. 

“There she is,” he drawls, voice muffled and thick with lust before enveloping your clit in the warmth of his mouth and sucking. Your grip in his hair tightens as your hips grind into his mouth and down onto his fingers. Fingers which curl up into the gummy walls of your cunt, languidly brushing that sensitive spot inside over and over. 

Soon, slow movements evolve into quicker, but still consistent and deliberate, pumps into your weeping hole. It is precisely then that the ever-growing fire in your belly begins to consume you entirely. The moment Logan’s jaw goes slack and he begins to desperately lap at your cunt with a near entire loss of coordination, your vision goes white. 

Your orgasm crashes over you, an all-consuming force as Logan continues to fuck you with his fingers. It’s like you are bursting at the seams, coming apart in his hands. Every cell in your body catches fire as you roll your hips into his hand, riding out the waves of your climax. 

You’re panting as you come down, hips slowing to a stop as your body becomes over-sensitive to his touch. You twitch as Logan slowly pulls his fingers from you, his head falling to rest on your trembling thigh. 

“You know…For an old man, that was-” 

You suck in a sharp breath, hips jumping at the harsh sensation of Logan intentionally rubbing his beard over your already burning inner thighs. He chuckles lowly at your reaction, but is quick to soothe you, laying tender kisses across heated skin. 

Your hands trail down from his hair, and stroke a thumb softly over his cheek. He allows the sweet touches to continue for several moments before he pushes off his knees with a grunt. Logan falls onto the couch next to you, legs spread wide. Eyeing him in your periphery, you can tell he’s just as exhausted as you; his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.  

You’re still panting softly as you watch him, your limbs like Jell-O, skirt hastily pushed up past your waist, and top askew. The sight of him licking his fingers clean of you makes your clit twitch despite its sensitivity. 

Finally, he finds your eyes. 

“C’mere,” Logan rasps, patting his thigh. 

It takes great effort for you to crawl into his lap, and you don’t do it without some assistance. Logan’s hands grip your waist, pull you so you’re seated sideways over his thighs so as not to further irritate the burn. 

You wind an arm around his neck, tenderly stroking the hair at his nape. 

Logan rubs over the dough of your thighs, thumbs caressing between the split of them. Later, he’ll help you gently rub soothing lotion into them, but for now he’s all desire as he gazes down at where his hands press lightly into your legs. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks quietly. 

You can’t help but squirm in his lap a little, feeling him hot and hard beneath your thighs.

“Mmh,” you muse, staring down at his hands on you, legs raw and tingling. “Good.” 

You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, the warmth of his body beneath yours. “Yeah?”

You nod, meeting his eyes before cupping his jaw and scratching softly at his beard, feeling the lingering wetness there. Briefly, his eyes drift shut and he groans quietly. 

“How’s that feel?” you repeat his question back at him, teasing. 

Logan growls, grabs the back of your head, and desperately presses his lips to yours in answer. 

You moan softly into the kiss, holding his face in your hands as you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue more than the whiskey now. 

Then you’re trailing your hands down his chest and pulling away only briefly to tug his white tank off before your fingers deftly begin to undo his belt. The metallic clink it makes, the sound of leather sliding against cotton as it comes off, only makes your pussy clench around nothing as you whine into his mouth. 

Your ardour makes Logan chuckle, breaking away from your lips in favour of kissing roughly down your neck. His hands now cup your jaw, allowing him to tilt your head back as his lips leave a trail of wet kisses across heated skin. You sigh as his beard tickles your neck. 

“So needy,” he mumbles into your skin. 

You groan and feel his smirk against the skin of your chest before he’s pulling your skirt and top off over your head and tossing them aside. 

Wanting hands find their way into his hair again when he pulls away from your skin momentarily. He enjoys having you completely naked in his lap while he’s still mostly clothed. You can tell from the way his nostrils flare when he drags in a deep breath, the way his tongue wets his mouth before he pulls you close and latches onto your nipple. 

He greedily licks and sucks and bites at one while palming the other in one large hand. 

“Logan,” you breathe his name like a prayer, pulling him closer with hands locked in his hair. 

His teeth graze your nipple, tugging it gently. Gasping in shock, your face twists up at the intense mix of pleasure-pain that swirls around in your gut. He releases your breast, breathing harshly over your now damp skin. 

Impatient and needy, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, rubbing yourself over his hardness. Surely, you’ll leave a damp patch on his clean slacks. The thought only spurs you on, movements becoming desperate. 

His cock twitches beneath you, tip probably an angry red and leaking sticky precum you selfishly wish to lick up. “Fuck, need to feel you, sweetheart.” 

The whine his proclamation elicits borders on pathetic, and in a rush you’re helping him tug his slacks down just enough that his cock can spring free. 

“So pretty,” you whisper, dragging your middle finger across prominent veins that run down his length, prompting him to twitch and hiss through his teeth.

Saliva begins to pool in your mouth, but you’re tugged back to Earth when Logan grabs your waist, ordering you to ‘turn around’. 

Body buzzing in anticipation, you allow him to manhandle you into the right position, savouring the feel of his hands manipulating your movements. 

“There ya go,” He praises, pulling your back flush against his chest. His hand sneaks up your chest. When it reaches your neck, he presses gently so your head falls against his shoulder. 

Your eyes meet as your chest heaves. 

“Open.” 

Eyes remaining on his, you part your lips. 

“Don’t swallow,” Logan instructs gruffly, brow quirked. He may as well have pointed a finger in your face, stern as he is. 

You nod quickly, and he leans forward slightly to spit thickly onto your tongue. It’s so obscene a tremor wracks through your body as heat spills into your gut. 

Hand below your chin, Logan closes your jaw for you, allowing his saliva to mix with your own before putting his hand in front of you, saying, “Spit.” 

You obey a little messily, some ending up dribbling down your chin. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he says, smearing the sticky mess over your already messy cunt. You whine, all high and breathy. Still slightly sensitive. 

Finally, he adjusts you, shoving you forward in his lap so he’s at the right angle to thrust into your wet heat. 

Tandem groans are released into the air the moment he fills you. A millisecond to adjust. To savour how deeply he fills you before his hands are at your waist to help guide your movements.

Using your own hands on his legs as leverage allows for slow, deep thrusts that make your body quake. Those first sweet drags of his cock against your slick walls are enough to make you shudder. 

Reaching a steady rhythm, you begin to pant, the exertion it takes to ride him like this tiring you out quickly. Though Logan is quick to help, supporting you with strong hands as he guides you up and down. Still, you’ve yet to lose your vigour. Entranced by the slow roll of your hips, the way his cock reaches the deepest parts of you in this position. His strong thighs bracketing your body. 

“That’s it…That’s it.” Logan grunts lowly, nearly delirious and wholly mesmerized by how your body takes all of him. How you stretch around him to accommodate his size. Hypnotized briefly as he hungrily watches the place where you connect. 

A gasp evolves into a moan as one of his hands leaves your waist in favour of seeking out the sensitive button at the top of your cunt. Clumsy fingers toy with your clit, slipping around messily. Flames lick at your nerve endings. On occasion he loses his place, unable to maintain a perfect rhythm from behind you, but just as quickly returns to circle the bud.  

Another hand moves to your belly, pulling your body backwards, his sweat-slick chest now pressed up against your back. You wish you could drag your nails down his broad chest, watch as he loses himself in the feeling. But the closeness this position allows is worth the sacrifice. 

Being nearly immobilized pressed up against him like this, giving him full control of your body, it feeds some deep desire. It’s the reason your head has gone a little fuzzy. He knows it too. He knows it when you let a whine slip past your lips. When you begin to grind back against him needily. 

“Feel good, baby?” he rasps. At the same time, he rubs his middle finger over your clit in time with a deliciously deep thrust. All you can do is throw your head back against his shoulder, another wanton moan clawing its way up your throat, directly into his ear. That’s all the answer he needs. 

Logan grunts in response. Pistoning hips setting a rhythm that is both intimate and punishing, making you dizzy. His closeness makes you dizzy. Those low grunts in your ear are enough to drop pearls of pleasure into the pit of your stomach. All of it contributing to the growing fog in your mind. 

You writhe against him, an arm wrapping around the back of his head, keeping him close with a hand buried in his hair. Your other hand remains locked onto his forearm as it flexes with each rub of your sensitive clit. 

Logan begins to grunt animalistically into your ear, unabashed about his desire for you. You feel it in the way his strong arms grip your body, ensuring your security. In the way he lets moans and grunts and groans rumble up from his chest, unafraid to let you hear what you do to him. 

His hands all over your body, the deep strokes of his cock that reach the deepest parts of you, his soft grunts in your ear–it all feeds the flames in your belly. 

“Fuck. S-so full,” you mewl, overwhelmed tears springing to your eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he placates, tone edging on mockery. His voice sends shockwaves through your body. The sweet humiliation it brings presses into your skin like a brand, leaving it white-hot. 

More. You need more of him. 

Desperately, clumsily, you grind back into him enthusiastically, writhing in his grasp. The rhythm turns staccato and messy as a result. But it doesn’t matter. You just need more.

You whine, turning your head towards him and he gets the hint, meets you halfway and licks hotly into your mouth the moment your lips meet. Your hands twist in his hair. 

It’s messy and uncoordinated and your neck hurts twisted to kiss him like this. But then there’s the fiery taste of whiskey. And you. And him, his cigars. And the pain–it’s worth it. It’s necessary. 

When you break away, only a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths now, it’s to gasp. Your brows furrow, pleasure twisting your insides. 

You go cross-eyed trying to hold his gaze, and he grins. It’s a wolfish thing. A flash of his teeth, lips kissed red and puffy. The sight makes your pussy clench around him. 

A smile tugs at your own mouth, probably fucked out and hazy with pupils blown wide. It only grows when the hand gripping your waist skims over your hot skin. On its journey, he grabs at your tits, pinches your nipple. Every sensation now blends together, overwhelming you with pleasure.

His hand pauses at the base of your neck where it grazes over the stretched expanse of skin. 

A teasing squeeze. Once. Your brows knitting together. Twice. Your mouth dropping open. His grip not quite tight enough to cut off airflow and elicit that floaty feeling. But enough to make you whine low in your throat. You are at his mercy.

Eyes drifting shut, you cry out, feeling your climax building at the pit of your stomach. Breathy moans escape you with each rub of his finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves, edging on overstimulating. Each sharp thrust drives you closer to that edge, setting your body alight. 

“Y’gonna come, honey?” Logan pants, voice hoarse. 

These escapades exhaust him now. You’ve witnessed the way it sinks into his bones after. But there’s also the hint of a grin in his voice. Along with desperation. Desperation to feel you fall apart. An indication that the pleasure he provides, the pleasure he receives, is worth the exhaustion. It’s rewarding for him. 

Your answer is the most pathetic whine, high and wanton as overwhelmed tears blur your vision, threatening to spill over. “Uhuh.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, and you swear his fingers were made to make you come apart at the seams when he rubs over your clit like that. Like it gives him pleasure too.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless, barely moving over his cock as he pounds into you from below, his strong legs beginning to tremble. 

“Yeah,” Logan repeats. Mockery is thick on his tongue, a faux pout playing at his mouth. You lose it. 

Everything else falls away. Tingling heat spreads beneath your skin as you finally let go. Your body thrums with your release, the feel of his damp skin at your back, his hands on your body, how full of him you are. 

 Logan has little room to be cocky. Because the moment you begin to clench around him–cunt pulsing with each wave of your orgasm washing over you–he’s grunting curses into your shoulder, leaving bite marks on the tender flesh as his warm seed spurts into you. 

He shudders with his release. 

“Fuck,” he growls, grinding up into you, his grasp on your body tightening. 

In a flash, he removes his hand from your throat. And, distantly, past your post-coital fog, you hear the sound of metal unsheathing rapidly. You glance to your right.

Retracting claws reveal three deep holes pierced into the faux leather, showcasing thick wire springs and white stuffing. 

Blearily, you drag your hand down his arm, running over hair and slowly aging skin. Reaching his wrist, you bring his hand up to your mouth, cup it in both of yours. You smooth your thumb gently over the edges of his knuckles, watch for moments as the holes very slowly begin to close. 

You kiss his knuckles thrice. Once over each slowly healing wound. 

Eventually, the skin will mend. The wounds will be nonexistent. They will heal in time. But his body is exhausted. And every time the claws come out, the cracks in his skin take longer and longer to repair themselves. 

He collapses beneath you, rugged breaths pulled from tired lungs. 

Carefully, he slides out of you and you help him tuck himself back into his boxers. Press a kiss to his forehead. 

A whisper of, “Be right back.” against heated skin before leaving on unsteady legs to clean yourself up. His desire is a slow leak down your thighs now. 

If he were a younger man, still full of strength and agility, he’d have done this part for you. You know he wishes he could. Part of you wishes he could too. But you like to take care of him too. 

When you return, he’s still sunken into the couch, chest bare and sweaty. He accepts the glass of water you bring him, gulps it down thirstily. 

Cuddling up next to him now, you brush the sweat-damp hair back from his face. You’ll allow him to pull you close. You’ll hold each other, stroke the skin beneath his eyes tenderly. The fresh dark circles there. And he’ll press soft kisses against the lingering bite marks on your shoulder, whisper praise into your ear. 

When his honeyed eyes catch yours, you know he longs to spoil you. To scoop you up in his arms and take you to bed. 

But this takes a lot out of him now. It will be days–maybe more–before you’ll be able to do something like that again. 

So, you’ll take care of him. He’ll insist on having you underneath him. Begrudge the fact that the exhaustion will have yet to be leached from his bones. But acquiesce the moment your hands reach beneath his belt. 

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Treat You Better - Lando x Fem reader

Summary: Y/n broke up with Lando a while ago. One night she overhears a conversation that makes her want to protect him.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, bad words, alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 16K

Notes: Nosey me really wants to know what happened at that nightclub. I hope you like it, and as always, feedback and requests are very welcome.

____________________________________

You hated this situation, you felt so bad for Lando. You couldn't shake away the memory of the model walking in that bathroom with her friend talking about how Lando was going to be the best way to help her career, and that she just had to deal with all the F1 bullshit, his and his friends' childish behavior for a couple of months to get enough contracts, and then she'll try to find true love. Honestly, you couldn't believe someone like her could love anyone but herself.

“I think you should warn him”

“I don’t know. If he still hates me as much as he did when I left, he’s going to think I’m doing it out of spite, or that I want him back”

“And you don’t?” Your bff looked at you with a knowing look.

“Off topic” You took a sip from your wine glass.

“Fine. But don't you think it is super weird? What were the odds of you and her being in London, at the same restaurant, inside the same bathroom as she decided to spill her stupid plan?"

"I must be paying some freaking karma" You sighted drifting into your own thoughts,

"Ok, enough about this, are you ready for tomorrow?"

"Are you seriously making me go?"

"Of course! Y/N, you need something to keep your mind off things and I don't want to go on my own, I barely know the guy"

Ellie had met a DJ through Tinder and he had invited her to a private party he was playing at, in one of the Monaco nightclubs.

As much as you wanted to stay back and melt into the anxiety the situation had put you in for the last month, you agreed because that was the best friend thing to do.

_________________________

You got to the nightclub, it was a launch party for a cosmetic brand. As you were led to the DJ booth, memories rushed back. You had joined Lando for a couple of nights during his DJ era. Fuck, you had missed this, and you missed him. You needed to keep those thoughts away and an open bar seemed like a good solution... or so you thought.

It had been a few hours and a considerable number of drinks when Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled you to talk to your ear, a strange choice since the music wasn't even that loud, it was one of those parties where influencers and models try to get contracts and to get known by PRs.

"Please, promise me we're not leaving"

"What?"

"Please, promise me. I'm having a good time" She pulled the puppy eyes trick, but what was she talking about?

"Ellie, how drunk are you?"

"Look over there" she discretely signaled to a table towards the exit.

What was she doing there? Was Lando there too? You almost panicked, but he couldn't be. He had raced in Baku that same day. Yes, you still knew his calendar by heart. Usually, he would fly back home the next day. This explained why she was throwing herself at some guy on her table.

"Fuck"

"You promised"

"I didn't"

"Please"

You knew this was a bad idea, you already dreaded the girl, and seeing her hump all over some guy, as Lando was away, made your blood boil. You tried to stay and keep her off your mind but it was impossible, there was no amount of alcohol in this world that could make this situation bearable.

"I'm going home"

"Y/n, please"

"If I have to see her dry-hump another guy for two more seconds I might actually punch her"

"Don't go! C'mon"

"Elle..."

"Fine, let me know when you're home"

You hugged your friend goodbye and rushed towards the exit. On your way out her voice caught your ear, that voice you couldn't keep out of your head. Clearly, you had offended the gods.

"Oh no! I'm single at the moment. I'm sooo tired of dating man-childs, like, they're fun but it's so exhausting trying to have a conversation when all they can talk about is themselves and how cool their little toys are"

Before your brain could catch up with your body, you were already making a beeline toward her.

"Hi, sorry, can I steal her for a second?" You faked a smile to the PR as you grabbed Mila by the arm and pulled her toward a dark corner of the club.

"What the fuck? Let me go!" She tried to shake your hand away when she recognized you. You finally let go of her and stood cornering her against the dark wall.

"Listen to me, you're going to stop this nonsense about Lando"

"Why? Does your career need a boost and you want him back?"

"At least I have a career people can talk about, and not just who's going between my legs"

"Fuck you" She tried walking away but you blocked her path.

"No, you're going to listen to me, you little shit. You and your stupid friends can think whatever you want about Lando, but I won't let you damage his image just so you can have your five minutes"

"I don't know what you're talking about" Her shit-eating grin seemed even worse to your alcohol intoxicated eyes.

"Really? So it wasn't you who told one of your friends that you just had to deal with this F1 bullshit for a little while to get enough contracts?" Her breath hitched for a second but then the smug face returned.

"Please" she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. You wanted to punch her stupid grin away.

"Last warning, either you stop this nonsense, or everybody will know what a shitty person you are"

"Honey, no one's going to believe you, they will just think you're a jealous, bitter, ex-girlfriend"

"Are you sure? Have you seen the comments?" You pulled your phone from your bag waving it in her face " You don't seem to have the crowd on your side. So, listen, "honey", you want to date him, be my guest, but stop talking shit about him, he doesn't deserve it"

"Fuck you" She pushed you to the side and walked back to her table. You turned around and people were staring at you, also a few phones were pointing your way. Fuck, this was going to be all over the place.

_____________________________

You were still shaking when you got home. You hadn't been this angry at someone in a long time.

You took a cold shower to ease the heat inside you, took a sweatshirt from your closet, and went to bed.

_____________________________

"I'm surprised you didn't punch her in the face, you're such a grown-up" Ellie sat by your side on the couch.

"I wanted to, bad. But I'm not jail material. What about you? I was expecting Mr. Dj to be here this morning"

"We went to his house"

"And?"

"It was nice and all but you know I don't sleep out-"

A hard knock on the door caused a stinging pain in your head. Stupid open bar.

"I'll get that" Ellie walked to the door as you laid your head back on the couch and closed your eyes trying to ease the hangover pain.

"Please tell me Mr. Dj sent coffee"

"I guess you're in for disappointment" His voice made your heart stop.

You took a deep breath before opening your eyes and leaning back up to look at him.

"Can you give us a minute, Ellie?" He spoke before you could say a word. Your best friend who looked as shocked as you, turned your way. You nodded yes.

"I'll be over there. Nice to see you Lan" She walked to her bedroom and mouthed "Tell him" as she passed you.

"Care to explain?" You could hear a slight hint of anger in his voice, and like the psycho you were, it was making your heart rush. You were always playfully pushing his buttons to anger him enough that it would lead to rough sex, but sex was not the final outcome this time. So you had to take another deep breath to ease the heat inside.

"Y/n?" His saying your name did not make things easier. The space around you started to feel smaller by the second. You stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

"Coffee?" Your voice hoarse, as if you had been screaming for hours.

For a second his mind drifted off topic, your outfit being nothing but an oversized sweatshirt caught him off balance, even more when he realized it was one of his. A buzzing on his phone brought him back to reality and the name on the screen back to the topic.

Mila Where are you, baby?

"No thanks, I'm not here for coffee, I'm here to find out what the heck happened last night?" He followed you but kept a safe distance.

You started working the coffee machine, a cheap way to escape his presence, as a fight took place in your mind, should you tell him? Was he going to believe you?

"Y/N, I don't have all day, why did you attack Mila?"

"I didn't attack her" You finally spoke.

"That's not what the media says, and what the video shows"

"There's a video? You can't be safe anywhere" You joked.

"I'm being serious" He finally walked up to you taking the empty mug from your hand. "What the fuck was that? just because you don't have anyone in your life, it doesn't mean you have to ruin my relationship with Mila"

Low blow, Norris.

"Relationship?! Please, Lando" You spat before you could process the words.

"What? Just because you didn't want a relationship with me it doesn't mean other people won't want it either"

"What made you think I didn't want a relationship with you?"

"Umm, the fact that you ran away in the middle of the fucking night after ONE fight, ghosted me for two weeks, and just sent an "I can't do this anymore" text before blocking me from every single place? I'm not stupid"

"It wasn't just one fight. We had been fighting so much for the last month, and that last time the only difference was the volume"

"But that happens, just because we love each other it doesn't mean everything is going to be sweets and roses"

The word love sent lighting throughout your body.

"Lan, I didn't leave because of those fights. I left because you weren't happy with me, with us" Your eyes started watering, leaving him had been one of the toughest decisions.

"What?"

"You were lying to me, you were hiding. Does that seem like a happy relationship?" He stared at you confused "I knew about your nightclub and dinner escapades when I wasn't going to the GP's. I never minded you going to those things without me, I don't know why you started lying about them?" You could see it on his face he knew he had screwed up.

"But I never cheated or anything, I promise"

"I know, but it felt as if I was keeping you from doing stuff you wanted and that you felt the need to hide from me" You felt like he was being forced to be with you, like you were keeping him from things he liked.

"Y/n, I was so fucking happy with you, I just...I wasn't thinking. I saw how others got in trouble for going out alone and thought, I... I fucked up" He walked closer toward you and shily played with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Lan -" His phone rang in his hand, Mila's name on the screen shattering the moment completely. You sighed and stepped back "Just be careful, ok?"

"Careful?"

"She might not be what you think she is"

"What are you talking about?"

You bit your lip still unsure about spilling it all out.

"Y/N"

"I heard her at Scully's a month ago. She was with some friends, I was in the restroom when she got in and I heard her tell her friend that she just needed to deal with F1 for a while to get enough contracts" You kept the details to yourself, they felt unnecessary.

He looked hurt but not surprised.

"I'm sorry" You whispered.

"Is that why you were fighting yesterday?"

"Yeah, basically" You weren't sure if telling him the "attack" had also been fueled by seeing her dry-hump two different guys was good, it seemed he had received the message.

"Why would you care?" He softly asked, his green eyes fixed on yours.

"Lan" You turned back to the coffee machine, the noise grounding you and keeping your mind from drifting into the romantic scenarios it was dying to go to.

"Tell me" He took a step closer. You could feel his body heat radiate towards you.

"Just" You knew where this was leading, what he wanted to hear, but you weren't sure you wanted to say those words.

"Bull" His hand landed on your hip. The electricity from his touch made you jump.

"Lando, stop it please" You stepped to the side escaping his touch.

"No" He took you firmly by the waist and turned you around, trapping you against the counter. "Why would you do that?"

"What do you want to hear?"

"Just tell me why did you do that?"

"Please just leave it" You closed your eyes and threw your head back, this situation and the awful hangover were killing you physically and mentally. But all Lando could see was your neck, it was almost begging him to kiss it, but he fought the urge, he needed you to accept you wanted him too.

"No, I don't want to" His voice was almost childlike.

"God Lando, damn it! I did it because I couldn't stand her talking shit about you. Yes, you can be stubborn, annoying, and sometimes such a child that I want to kill you, but you're also a loving, caring, responsible, smart and such a wonderful human being you don't deserve someone treating you like that. Happy?!"

"Yes" He pulled you from your waist and joined your lips.

His flesh touching yours felt like a breath of fresh air. You couldn't fight it anymore, and as much as you wanted to deny it, you loved him, you loved him deeply.

Your hands found their place behind his neck, softly playing with his curls.

His hands traveled down from your waist to your thighs, caressing them and indulging in the warmth of your skin. He then squeezed your ass and pulled you to carry you to the sofa.

He sat on it as you straddle him. He gave one last peck to your lips and started kissing down your chin, reaching that sensitive spot on your neck right below your ear as his arms pressed you harder against his body. Making you moan at the feeling of the bulging sweats under you.

"I've missed you, don't leave me, please" He whispered softly against your skin.

His phone buzzed again inside his pocket.

"Lan, wait" You pushed his head away from your body.

"What?"

"You're with Mila"

A breathy laugh made his chest bounce.

"C'mon, we were just fooling around"

"Does she know that?"

"Now you care about her?"

"It's not her. But I can't be a hypocrite. I don't want the bad karma"

"Fine" He took the phone from his pocket and dialed. After a couple of rings, you heard that damn voice coming from the speaker.

"Baby, I've been calling you for hours, where are you? Lucia and I are waiting for you to go to the marina, I promised her we would tan on the yacht today"

"Mila, we're done"

The line went silent for a few seconds. You could almost picture the shocked face on the other side of the phone.

"What?" Her voice was a thousand octaves higher.

"What you heard. Go find someone else to leach from. See ya" He hung up with the biggest grin.

"Happy?" He said as he turned off his phone and placed it to the side.

"She's going to kill you"

"Good thing I have my own personal bodyguard" He buried his face on your chest, inhaling your scent, he had missed so much.

"Oh, now I'm your bodyguard?"

"Yup, fuck Jlo's bodyguard, now I have the hottest one"

"You're such an idiot"

"As long as I'm your idiot I don't care about anything else"

You pulled him to kiss again. His hands sneaked under the sweatshirt, caressing the soft skin inside it.

"Nice outfit by the way" Hi said against your lips.

You turned to look down at it and then realized you were wearing one of the sweatshirts you had stolen from him. You had worn it nonstop for weeks after the breakup until his scent had faded.

"I'm sorry I stole it"

"It looks way better on you"

He pulled you back to resume your makeout, as your hands played with the curls at the back of his head.

"You've been awfully quiet over here..." Ellie said out loud walking the hallway. "I just want to make sure you've not killed each oth-" She stared at the scene with a terrified look on her face.

"Please tell me you weren't having sex on the sofa"

"You're about a year too late"

"Ew, please tell me that's a lie. I really, really like that sofa and I don't want to have to burn it" She stared at you, disgust all over her face.

"He's joking" You punched his side playfully.

"Promise?" she asked

"Promise"

"Ok. And, as much as I'm happy you two are back together, please take it to the bedroom and give me five so I can be far far away before you start your unholy activities"

"Three is the most we can give you" Lando stood from the sofa carrying you.

"Two" he said kissing your neck and walking toward your bedroom.

"Nooo, c'mon, stop it" Ellie rushed to her room "Just let me get dressed and I'll be out of here, please!"

"You're mean" You smiled against his lips.

"And you're mine" Hi bit your lower lip closing your door with his foot.

"Send me a message when you're done and I can return"

"See you next week!" Lando yelled back. He returned his lips to your neck, removing the only piece of clothing covering you.

"Very funny!" Was the last thing you heard before the front door slammed.

As much as it sounded like a joke, Lando was determined to make up for lost time.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Imperator

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 6.7k words

Summary: Once, you only had the memory of the curious barbarian poet, entertaining guests at a party with both violence and verse. But it's not until you see him again, now as emperor, that you get to know the man underneath the titles.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, power imbalance (emperor/servant to freedwoman), mutual pining, slow-ish burn, sort of forbidden love?, lots and lots of fluff good lord, some jealousy, some angst, lovey dovey smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), maybe some historical inaccuracies lol (I care a lot okay), and iii think that's it but lmk if anything else!

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

"Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name."

– Ovid.

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

“The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth the descent, and easy is the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.”

That was the first time you had ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice riddled with contempt. Moments before, he had killed another gladiator, his blood spattered on him like a gruesome adornment. But there was no savagery in his fierce eyes, no mere bloodthirst in the sneer directed at Emperor Geta, your Dominus. His glare was even, like a cold, blue flame that promised not just violence, but retribution as well.

You’d recognized the poem immediately, just as taken aback as everyone else. Nobody moved, the room’s collective breath held in anticipation of the inevitable repercussions of such an offense. Emperor Geta made the slightest move to raise his sword and you gripped the decanter of wine tighter, but your face remained impassive.

“Virgil,” supplied Macrinus, trying to placate him with a broad smile. “He was taught poetry just to amuse you, Imperators.”

There was another momentary pause in which neither twin was sure if they should believe him. But then, Caracalla snorted, standing up to clap the taller man’s shoulder.

“A poet,” He said, laughing. “That’s genius, Macrinus.”

“Yes, certainly very amusing,” Geta said begrudgingly, his jaw clenched. 

He and the gladiator had not stopped staring at each other for one moment, like two vipers poised to strike. 

“Good, I thought you’d like that,” Macrinus said, approaching his fighter to grasp his shoulder, perhaps in warning. “We live to serve you both.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing your poet at the upcoming games in the Colosseum,” he spits out, throwing the sword aside with a loud clatter. “Let’s see how his verses work for him then.”

Macrinus nodded at his steward to take the gladiator away. He was smiling, seemingly amused, as the steward approached him. As he was being shoved back to the atrium, his eyes took one last baleful look around the room. For the briefest second, you thought his eyes met yours, striking you like a piercing arrow, but then he was gone. 

You had no time to dwell on it though, as Emperor Geta returned to his seat and raised his glass to be refilled. But that didn’t mean you would forget so easily, even if your paths might never cross again. All you could do was offer a prayer to the Gods for him. 

—--------------------------

The next time you saw him, he was no longer a barbarian gladiator hailed from a distant land, but the new – and rightful – Emperor of Rome. His name was not Hanno, but Lucius Verus Aurelius, and he was the son of the recently passed Queen Lucilla, whom Rome still mourned. 

He was not cruel like the twins had been, rarely raising his voice, much less his hand. His demeanor was usually calm, but sometimes he stalked the halls restlessly, as if unsure what he should be doing. He still rose with the sun and trained for a couple of hours in the morning, already used to the routine he’d had as a gladiator, but after that, it was all politics. Endless scrolls of parchment to pore over, meetings to hold with the senate, and lending a patient ear to the populace’s needs. The weight of an empire was on his shoulders, and yet he didn’t bow under it. 

During the day, you served his wine and silently hovered around for anything else he might need. At night, you drew his baths, kept his torches lit, and prepared his bed. You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally. 

There were times when you caught him looking at you as if you seemed vaguely familiar, a furrow in his brow when he couldn’t place you. You couldn’t fault him for not remembering you from Senator Thraex’s party, but there was a certain thrill at having piqued his curiosity regardless. Still, you kept your head down and offered no hints, as was your place. 

Until one night, while he watched you add aromatic oils and test the bath’s temperature, he finally asked the question that had been on his mind for days.

“What is your name?”

You were startled at first, not having expected him to address you at all. You told him your given Roman name, Domicia, and bowed your head respectfully. He pushed himself off the doorway and stepped into the bathroom, humming thoughtfully.

“Of the home,” he said, referring to the name’s meaning. “Are you Roman? Is that your real name?”

You shook your head in answer to both questions. “I have been in Rome for many years now, though.”

“I have not,” he said, a note of melancholy in his voice. “Yet I grew up here, in these very halls…”

He trailed off, looking around absently, lost in his memories. You could not begin to imagine what he had been through, what he had seen. You had heard of his being sent away as a child, with absolutely no choice in the matter, and could empathize with him. 

All you had ever known was a humble life in your native country, until you were stripped of your freedom and brought to the capital of Rome. Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again. 

“We are honored and grateful to have you back, Dominus,” you said. “I hope things have been to your satisfaction.”

“I have no complaints,” he said, yet he sighed. “Though becoming accustomed to being here, in my current position, is going to take some more time.”

“If there is anything I can do to make it easier for you, please let me know.”

He inclined his head gratefully, your eyes meeting for a moment. “Thank you, Domicia.”

He had the barest of smiles on his handsome face, but you could tell it was genuine. You felt one corner of your lips tugging upwards, but you looked away out of propriety. Even if you were in the same room, you were leagues apart, and it would do you no good to try to imagine otherwise.

You stood up, grabbing the decanter from a nearby table to have it refilled. “Your bath is ready now. Would you like refreshments other than wine?”

He nodded and you bowed, making your way out. By the time you returned with more wine and a platter of olives, bread, and cheese, he was already in the bathtub, leaning back with his eyes closed. Your feet padded softly on the mosaic floor to avoid  disturbing him, and you left his refreshments on the table near the tub.

You settled at one side of the room just in case he might need anything, staring off into the middle distance and letting your mind drift. He glanced at you sidelong, his curiosity having only grown after your brief conversation. He still had that nagging feeling that he had seen you somewhere before, but he didn’t want to ask outright.

You felt his gaze on you but pretended not to, keeping your eyes averted. You thought again of the poem he’d recited, how different his demeanor had been then. You wondered what other verses he’d been taught, and if you might ever hear him recite anything again. He had a voice for poetry, somehow turning the words into a sort of enchantment, keeping one entranced.

“Doesn’t it feel… strange sometimes?” he said suddenly, staring up at the ceiling. “When things settle and you realize how far you have come? How much you’ve had to sacrifice for it?”

You hummed in agreement, waiting for him to say more. 

“Sometimes, I even wonder if it was all worth it.”

Still lost in a haze of verses, you spoke before you could even think it through.

“Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.”

He sat up, surprised. “You know Virgil.” Recognition finally dawned on him. “You were at that party, weren’t you?”

You nodded. “Your words then were just as sharp as your blade.”

He huffed, leaning against the edge of the tub as he remembered his barely contained hatred. “Were you taught poetry to amuse, as well?”

“No, I used to read it with my mother when I was younger.”

“Who else have you read?”

“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.”

“And you?”

It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”

The truth was that in a place such as Rome, love was quite hard to come by. You didn’t actively search for it, its ephemeral nature making you less inclined to, but you were no complete stranger to it. You’d never let it take root, though, for it was not something you could afford to have. 

“What about you, Dominus?”

“Me?” he said. “I suppose… I’m not entirely sure anymore. I used to be, at one point.”

His haunted expression told you not to press him for details, so you just nodded sympathetically. The two of you lapsed into silence, the weight of tragedy hanging between you. You’d had a lot more time to become numb to your circumstances, but it was clear the pain he was experiencing was still fresh. 

“I will be forced to remarry eventually.” He sighed heavily. “Produce heirs to carry out the lineage, show Rome a unified front.”

“Well, whoever you marry shall be the most fortunate woman in the empire.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking over at you. “You really believe so? You’re not just flattering me?”

“Of course,” you said, giving him a cryptic smile that made him laugh again. “I’m perfectly serious.”

“Oh, I am sure you are.”

After some time, he rose with a small splash, prompting you to immediately approach with an outstretched towel. His nudity barely registered in your mind, having already glimpsed him a few times. You wouldn’t dare to look at him directly, even if you were more than a little curious. You tensed as his fingers barely brushed yours in the exchange, but you quickly stepped back to give him more room.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, water dripping down his sculpted arms and chest. You went to start tidying up, studiously keeping your eyes on your task. He watched as you picked up the refreshments to take to the main chamber, a part of him wishing you would look at him instead. 

“One more thing,” he said and you immediately turned around. “Please, I want you to call me Lucius.”

Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…”

“I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.”

“I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

—-----------------

Weeks passed, and while Lucius still hadn’t managed to get you to call him by name, he had certainly gotten you to open up more. In the evenings, the two of you swapped more poetry, often sharing your own interpretations of the verses. At some point, he even had scrolls fetched from the library for you to read to him. He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating,  but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.

During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape. You still held yourself at a certain distance, though, always aware of the chasm between you. Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you were getting attached, for that would be too unrealistic of a fantasy, but you could not deny the butterflies in your stomach that often appeared while around him. His easy, handsome smile, the kindness in his eyes, his patient indulgence when listening to you, and the effort he put into making you laugh…

But the spell was abruptly broken the day he received a visit from his friend Ravi, who had brought someone for him to meet – a respectable Roman lady. A widow, as it happened, just like Lucius. Her hair was perfectly styled, falling in ringlets that framed her lovely face. She wore a lavender-colored dress with a matching veil, much fancier than anything you’d ever owned, and was adorned with golden jewelry. More importantly, she was freeborn, and thus a perfectly good candidate for marriage.

You swallowed hard, otherwise keeping your expression neutral. You hadn’t thought he would start meeting potential brides so soon, and you certainly hadn’t expected how it would make you feel. At least, Lucius also seemed surprised, not expecting his friend to try to set him up without consulting him first. Still, he assumed the role of gracious host and welcomed them warmly, leading them out to the gardens. He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

The three of them reclined on the couches of the outdoor dining area, shaded by a wooden pergola. It was a beautiful sunny day, the birds singing accompanied by the gurgle of the large fountain at the center of the garden. A gentle breeze stirred the foliage, carrying the faint, sweet smell of a dozen different flowers. 

You served them wine and hovered close by as another servant brought them food to snack on. Lucius had deliberately sat across from where you stood just so he could keep an eye on you. You’d withdrawn into yourself, trying your hardest to remain indifferent instead of worrying about whether the meeting went well or not. If it did, then you had to be happy for him, but if it didn’t… Well, at least that would buy you a little more time, if nothing else.

“Such a lovely garden,” the lady, Ilaria, said as she looked around. “One could never tire of such a view.”

Lucius nodded absently but said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I could see you fitting in perfectly with all the other flowers here,” Ravi cut in, smiling with as much charm as he could muster to make up for it.

Ilaria inclined her head, modestly waving off the compliment. “Oh, you flatter me, Ravi.”

He gave Lucius a subtle, pointed look to encourage him to follow his lead. Lucius sat up and cleared his throat, only just focusing on the conversation. He had been trying to get your attention as subtly as possible, but he hadn’t been successful. 

“Er, yes, it’s always a treat to spend time out here. Certainly helps to clear the mind.”

Ravi shook his head a little and tried not to snort with amusement, thinking he was a lost case. Ilaria smiled, unbothered, taking a handful of grapes from a platter and popping one into her mouth. 

“I’d wager there is much on your plate, Imperator,” she said. “And having to manage the household staff on top of everything else… Must be a little overwhelming for you, no?”

“Well, I am a very busy man, yes, but it hasn’t been all that bad,” Lucius said. “I’ve certainly had a great deal of support to see me through.”

His words managed to reach you, softening you up infinitesimally. This time, when he glanced at you, you finally looked back. The ghost of a smile was on your face, but you quickly looked away before it could actually manifest.

“I see. Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ilaria said, sharing a curious glance with Ravi, who looked slightly apologetic. “Though perhaps you have considered that having someone run the house for you would take a big burden off your shoulders. I would be more than happy to lend a hand if you’d consider it.”

His eyebrows raised slightly at her boldness, not missing the eagerness in her gaze, poorly concealed behind her innocently helpful demeanor. He certainly did not want to get her hopes up, but he smiled graciously to soften the blow.

“Ah, perhaps in the future, when I have more time to worry about such things,” he said, politely noncommittal. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Her smile wavered and then froze, not wanting to seem too disappointed. “Of course, Imperator.”

For the remainder of their visit, Lucius let them do most of the talking, any remarks he made were studiously polite and yet still a little aloof. Finally, after a few hours, he excused himself, needing to return to his duties. Ravi seemed hesitant, like he wanted to stay behind and speak to him privately, but he would have to wait for another day. He escorted them both out, thanking them for visiting, but he did not exactly invite Ilaria to return to the palace. Her disappointment was more palpable then, but she hid it with as much grace as she could muster.

When they were gone, he turned to you with a shake of his head and a sigh, grinning with bewilderment.

“I do not enjoy being ambushed,” he said as if he felt the need to explain himself. “Decent enough as she seemed.”

You bowed your head in agreement, more relieved than you would like to admit. You had no real reason to have been upset earlier, given that there was nothing between you except for a certain kinship. Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

He inclined his head towards the eastern hallway leading to his study. “Come, I would like you to read some documents to me. I can get work done faster that way.”

The tablinum was spacious but cozy, with a door to one side that led to a smaller patio. Before, the twin emperors had never used the room, but now it seemed well lived in. There was a mess of scrolls and wax tablets all over his desk that he still hadn’t let you organize. On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.

You lit the oil lamps in their alcoves, bathing the room in warm light. Lucius sat at his desk with a heavy exhale and scanned his notes to remember where he had left off the previous day. You sat on a stool beside him, unfurling the scroll he handed you and resting it on your knees. The texts you read didn’t always make sense to you, but you understood their importance. The fact that he was entrusting you with such work was an honor you did not take for granted.

“Start in that middle section. There is some stuff I would like to revisit,” he said, taking up his stylus. 

You nodded, finding what he was referring to and starting right away. You read to him for the next couple of hours, only stopping if he needed you to repeat something or in case he needed more time to make his notes. A few times during the latter, you glanced up to take in the focused furrow of his brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pondered. You wondered what he might be thinking about, wishing he would impart some more knowledge on you. 

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, shadows deepening in the corners of the room. Another servant brought him dinner, but he didn’t seem too hungry yet. He handed you his cup of water when he heard you clear your throat a few times, insisting when you were reluctant to take it. 

When he was done for the day, he stretched his arms over his head with a groan and slumped in his seat. You neatly rolled the parchment back up and stood so you could stretch your legs. 

“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.”

“Well, I still need to draw your bath and…”

“Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied.

You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?”

“Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that said it was not up for discussion. You pursed your lips, uncomfortable at the idea of being idle, especially while taking up his seat. Still, you obeyed and sat down, hands folded on your lap. Feeling a little bold, you looked at him as if to say ‘satisfied?’ and he huffed in amusement.

“Wait, stay still,” he murmured suddenly, leaning down.

You froze as his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. Delicately, he removed a stray eyelash that had been resting on your cheekbone, and he pulled back a little so you could see it on the pad of his finger.

“Make a wish,” he said.

All you could do was stare at him for another breathless moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. You licked your lips nervously, drawing his eyes there before they returned to hold your gaze. Your heart was like a nervous bird fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Your mind was mostly blank, but the one thought that popped up was ‘I wish he would close the distance right now.’

You gently blew the eyelash away, your wish scattering into the air alongside it. The Gods must have decided to grant it immediately, for he did not pull away, instead slowly leaning in. His lips brushed yours tentatively and you closed your eyes, rejoicing for the barest second before you forced your face to turn away.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmured, the words hard to utter when a desperate want clung to your throat like honey.

“Why not?” He whispered.

“It’s not– I’m not…” You vaguely gestured towards yourself, unsure of what the right words were. 

He pulled back to look at you better. “Was I too presumptuous?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed.

“Dominus, please.”

“Lucius,” he pleaded, loathing the title. “Say it, please.”

“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.”

“I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

“Surely you understand where I am coming from, though.” You sniffed, keeping tears at bay. “I am not wife material, like the lady Ilaria. I have nothing to offer, no dowry, no family name, or even an inkling of Patrician blood. ”

“I do not care for such things. I would never demand them of you. Even if we cannot marry, I will not marry anyone else that isn’t you,” he said with a firm, determined shake of his head. “But I can still give you my name, along with your freedom. That’s all that matters to me.”

You gasped, the shock of his words akin to a bucket of ice water being dumped over you. Now you let the tears spill over, like a dam had finally burst. He kissed them away, his hands cupping your face gently.

“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”

“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.”

You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.

“Pairs rather well with Lucia Veria, if I do say so myself,” he said with a proud chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you’ll have it, that is.”

You knew by the disarming earnestness in his eyes he wasn’t just offering the name, but himself, as well. His whole heart in the palm of your hand, should you choose to care for it. You felt as if you had already made that choice a while ago, when you first recited Virgil back to him.

“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.”

He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”

More tears flowed as a result of an overwhelming rush of both gratitude and love. You had tried to ignore your feelings, not uprooting them but instead silently letting them grow unacknowledged. For once, it had seemed worth the risk of heartbreak. After all, the love hadn’t stemmed from something as fleeting as lust, but a mutual understanding and respect. It was more than you could ever ask for, and yet everything you desired.

You leaned your forehead against his, your noses brushing as he tilted his head back. This time, it was you who brought your lips to his with a tentative sort of tenderness, propriety still at the back of your mind. He responded in kind, letting you set the pace so as not to scare you off. If you weren’t shaking so much, you might have noticed he was shaking, too. 

In that kiss, there was the promise of mutual devotion, sweet and sincere. You were still holding each other’s hands, as if afraid you might drift apart if you let go. You understood then why odes were written about this feeling, as all-consuming as the churning waves of the sea. All those verses had never resonated with you more. 

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all. 

—------------------

The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, the fresh sweetness of it bringing you a sense of tranquility. You leaned against the windowsill, looking up at the stars and trying to piece together constellations. The world seemed drastically different now that you had your freedom, so vivid, so open, so alive. You even noticed it in your posture and the lightness with which you walked, as if you were floating. Lucius had said you were radiant with it.

He’d insisted on taking care of you the same way you’d cared for him, eager to show you his gratitude. You had been hesitant at first, but at his unwavering conviction, you relented, curious how it might feel to be spoiled. All that day, he had served you reverently, taking time off from his duties to focus solely on you.

You couldn’t help getting flustered at all the attention, his ardent gaze like a caress every time it met yours. His touch had so far been entirely chaste, but even the smallest, most innocuous contact was heightened with anticipation. The brush of his fingers over yours when he handed you something, a guiding hand on your lower back, even a touch on your shoulder to make you aware of his presence.

There were a few sneaked kisses in both the garden and the tablinum, each one of them leaving an undercurrent of warmth under your skin that promised more. It was like a slow, drawn-out game of chase, neither of you in a rush to reach its conclusion. If anything, it only made you want each other more. 

After the sun had set, when the two of you drifted along as if in a drunken stupor, Lucius went to prepare a bath for you in his chambers. You were nervous and exhilarated, every moment spent waiting for him to be done an exquisite agony. Until finally, he poked his head around the bathroom door.

“It’s ready now,” he said, beckoning you with a smile.

You followed him into the bathroom, hands wringing anxiously. Flower petals were scattered on the mosaic floor, leading towards the steaming tub. Flickering candles bathed the room in a warm glow, making your shadows dance on the wall. You looked at each other, both knowing what the next step was but hesitant to initiate it. He averted his gaze first, gesturing towards the door.

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?”

You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.”

His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”

He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“The evening star is the most beautiful of all stars,”  he said in a low voice, quoting Sappho.

Warmth spread from your chest to your face, and you smiled coyly as another verse came to mind. “Come to me once more, and abate my torment…”

You offered him your hand, which he took, and he led you to the tub. You daintily stepped in, sighing contentedly as you sank into the water’s enveloping warmth. He knelt next to the tub, leaning against it with one arm propped on the edge. 

“Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”

You huffed with amusement, looking down as you fought a geeky grin. “Well, about a hundred times with just your eyes. A few times out loud, though.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to show you in other ways, too… If I may.”

You nodded, silently granting him permission. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up. He took it upon himself to bathe you, starting out by scrubbing your scalp. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. He smiled at your soft, pleasured hum, and vowed to elicit as many more as he could. 

Things took on an almost ritualistic quality, with him focused entirely on his task. You were loose limbed, letting him move you about as he used a cloth to scrub your skin. He didn’t try anything that might be deemed unsavory, though you let his tender, reverential touch reach places no one had touched in a very, very long time. But he didn’t linger, to your slight frustration, not wanting to jump into things too quickly. The flames of your desire were stoked slowly, warmth running through you like sweet wine. 

When he was done, he helped you step out of the tub and immediately got to drying you off with a towel. You caught his eye for a moment, his pupils blown wide with equally fervent desire. You stopped yourself from clutching his arm, wanting to anchor yourself to him, but he could still tell you were growing restless. He kissed your shoulder, tapping the tip of your nose playfully with his finger.

“Not done quite yet,” he murmured, not missing the way you involuntarily pressed your thighs together. “You’ve always been very patient.”

“For the first time, I fear it might be running thin…” you said, to which he smiled. 

He grabbed a small glass bottle of rose oil and lathered some in his hands. He anointed your body with it, the heady scent of one of Venus’s favorite flowers permeating the air. As he reached your chest, you took hold of his wrist and brought his palm to rest over your heart. He felt it beating rapidly, your chest rising and falling with each panting breath.

His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”

You clutched his wrist tighter, his thoughtfulness only making you want him more. All those hours he must have spent yearning, unaware that you were stuck thinking of him too. As emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted, but having previously been a gladiator, he understood the monumental importance of bodily autonomy. Very few people in Rome had such a privilege and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to rob you of it. 

You kissed him in response, much fiercer, hungrier, than all the other kisses you had shared so far. A desperate sound escaped his throat and he clasped you against him tightly. Swiftly, he scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you out to the bedchamber as he would a bride.

Gently, he set you down on the bed and pulled away to remove his tunic. This time, you were not meek about his nakedness. You brazenly stared at him, eyes mapping out the lines of his muscles, the pink, raised skin of his scars, and the soft trail of hair on his abdomen that seemed to suggestively point downwards. 

His shoulders were squared with pride at your ogling, a sly smile on his face. He’d had an inkling before of your attraction, but to see it on full display was narcotic, and he felt himself pulse with an aching need.

“Come closer,” you said softly.

He did, climbing over you, his warmth immediately enveloping you. You hid your face on the junction between his neck and shoulder, embarrassed at all the thoughts rushing through your mind.

“What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement.

“Nothing,” you said, voice muffled against his skin. “I just… I do not think you realize how badly I wanted this, too. I-I don’t want to ever stop.”

He chuckled indulgently, nudging your head so you’d look at him. “Neither do I.”

He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Your knees hiked up to his hips in a silent plea, but he did not give in quite yet, wanting to prolong things for as long as he could.

Still, unable to resist a little bit of mutual torment, he slid upwards until his hips were aligned with yours. You gasped as you felt the velvety underside of his erection against your slick folds, each small movement making you tremble. Your brows furrowed and your lips parted in a wanton expression, your eyes shiny and half lidded as you looked at him.

“Lucius,” you whimpered. 

“I know,” he murmured soothingly, kissing your neck. “I know.”

Neither of you were willing to break apart from your embrace, so there wasn’t actually much of a preamble. Feverish, he sank into you slowly, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you open. That first round was frantic, almost animalistic, all the pent up longing finally being released. His body rolled over yours with the power of the sea’s waves, leaving you awash in ecstasy.

Neither of you lasted very long, but it didn’t matter, as you were nowhere near spent. Lucius, still in the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily began to kiss you all over, wanting to discover every mole and freckle, every tender spot that made you squirm, and every other little detail that made you you. 

He settled between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, but he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer. 

“What are you– Oh,” you gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the entirely new sensation disarming you. 

He tasted his essence mixed with yours, a groan rumbling in his chest. You tightly grasped the sheets under you, arching against his face. You bit your lip to stop yourself from making the most undignified sounds, but it was hard to focus, especially as his fingers were added into the mix. Your body burned brighter than any brazier, his arms pinning you down as he conquered you with his mouth. You shattered once more, crying out as he helped you ride it all the way through. 

After, you lied side by side, facing each other. You’d still not had your fill of him, but you needed to gather your strength for the long night ahead. You shared a breathy chuckle, as if still in disbelief it had finally happened, and he kissed your sweat-slick forehead.

“Now that was poetry,” you said jokingly, making him laugh again. 

“You put every verse to shame, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You kissed his palm, adoring, and tangled your legs with his. A swell of emotion unlike anything you had ever felt rose within you. It was as if he had awakened a new part of you that you hadn’t known was dormant, bringing you back from an existence that consisted solely of drifting through days that blended into one another.

He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours. You drew closer to him, like a moth to flame, and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your hips and your eyes were full of mirth as you held his gaze.

“As it happens, I find myself compelled to compose some more with you.” You grinned playfully, hands sliding up his chest. 

He mirrored your grin, not minding the idea one bit. “Relentless, just like the great muse Calliope.”

“Well, when inspiration strikes… It can’t be helped, can it?”

“No,” he said. “Not when it comes to you.”

------

[ddejavvu]

JAMES POTTER THE MAN THAT HE IS i wholeheartedly believe would spoil you so much and you’d make sugar daddy joke about him CONSTANTLY even if you were the same age

"Why has your aunt just told me I look too young to be your boyfriend?" James leans over to murmur against your ear, throwing a glance at your aunt who's currently indulging in another glass of wine that she doesn't need.

"I dunno," You shrug, "Older ladies are always saying things about the way people look for their ages."

"Your grandma frowned at me when I came in," James recalls with a groan, "Not necessarily angry, I don't think. Just confused."

"She's always confused," You scoff, "Don't worry James; no one else thinks I've robbed the cradle."

"Y/N," It's a cousin of yours this time, elbowing you hard in the shoulder and sitting down beside you like you're not huddled up privately with your boyfriend, "I thought the wallet you snagged was halfway to the grave already. 'This his son?"

"Wallet?" Your eyes narrow, nose crinkling at the accusation, "What are you talking about?"

"You said you had a sugar daddy," Your cousin scoffs, and realization hooks your stomach, dragging it down towards your feet through an ocean of blood, "We all thought you were gonna bring some war veteran tonight, this kid looks like he just graduated high school."

"I'm twenty-two," James rambles, scandalized, "Y/N, you told them I was your sugar daddy?"

"No! No, I told them ages ago - when we started dating, that I had a boyfriend but- I mean, I dunno, I've thrown around the term sugar daddy while showing off some of your more... extravagant purchases."

"Like the cruise," Your cousin helpfully supplies, "And the tennis bracelet, and the summer home."

"That was a rental," You hiss, "Jamie, I swear I've used boyfriend 90% of the time."

"We thought she was just being optimistic," Your cousin admits, a wrinkled grimace on their face as they rush to free themselves from the awkward conversation, "But- uh, good for you two, remember me in the will."

"Oh my god," James buries his face in his hands, "They thought I was ancient. They thought I was some pervert chasing after girls, throwing money at the ones who'd pity me enough to look my way."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Jamie," You croon, taking his face into your hands and shooing his own away. He leans in desperately to the soothing kisses that you stick to his face, looking for all the world like he might die of embarrassment right here right now. For all that he moans and groans, he's tucked himself into your hold like a helpless infant, and you're happy to oblige his neediness.

"No more using the word daddy." James instructs, though he's not in a position to make orders while nestled securely in your protective grip, "Not unless we decide to take a leap of faith in the bedroom. God, no wonder your grandma was so disappointed when she saw me- I don't have enough wrinkles for her."

[thinkinonsense]

for more logan angst, would you consider doing a "one year later" or something like that follow-up to dbf!logan and the i love you fight?

i miss you, i'm sorry-dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part one

456 days after

everyday your words haunted logan. he could picture you with tears in your eyes so clearly. he still went down to your fathers bar; needing something to cope. you left shortly after the fight, using the money you had saved up from working at the bar to get an apartment a couple towns over. there needed to be distance between you and logan but it seemed that no where was far enough.

logan knew every tiny detail about your life since you left. your father shows him pictures of how you decorated your apartment and tells him about the new boyfriend you've got. he should be happy; you got out before logan could get you hurt. instead, he's been drinking himself to sleep most night. your favorite bra and sleeping shorts still sat in his bedroom dresser, untouched but they still smelled like you.

"she comes home next week." your father says, pouring logan another glass of whiskey. "her mom and i are throwing her a small welcome home party, you should come by."

as if logan wouldn't feel more like a dick, he had also drove you away from your parents. always coming up with an excuse for why you can't come visit.

"i'm not sure–"

logan was cut off by your father again.

"c'mon, bud. i don't wanna be the only guy there." he jokes, excited to see you but just maybe not your friends that your mom invited.

"uh, sure." logan sighs, taking another swig from the glass. he desperately hoped that your father would forget or that logan could come up with some excuse.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

your thumbs drum anxiously at the steering wheel as you drive down your old street. the nerves were finally hitting, too late to turn back like you had many times before. all of your friends cars sat in the driveway, you can't cancel on them again.

logan could smell you before you even got out of your car. he's down in the basement with your dad and a few of the guys from the bar. his mind was anywhere except present as he focused solely on you.

"that should be her, fellas." your dad smiles, getting up to greet you upstairs with the others. "i'll be back."

logan finished his beer and wondered if he should sneak out or fake some emergency. was he even ready to you again? how would you react?

"hey, logan? could you come help bring in some bags?" your father yells down the stairs.

"logan?" your voice was shaking at the mention of the man who shattered your heart.

this isn't the time to be crying. just get through dinner and then you can drive home; tell them you can't stay the night. fuck, what were you going to do?

"welcome home, sweetheart." logan mumbles with a slight nod, walking past you and out the door.

it was hard to mask your anger. one of your friends pours you a glass of wine and brings you to the living room, away from logan. your dad and him bring in your suitcases and sit them in your old bedroom. all of it felt like when you step off a roller coaster; dizzy, slightly confused, wanting to go again.

at the table, your mom asks about your new boyfriend. logan couldn't stand you going on and on about how great this guy was. so great that he's too busy to come home with you.

"so, do you think he's 'the one'?" one of your friends asks.

"um... i'm not sure." you shrug, catching logan's eye. "but i know he loves me and that's all that matters."

you might as well shot logan in the chest with that one.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

one too many glasses of wine and two beers later, almost everyone was starting to clear out. everyone except for logan. he's not sure why he didn't leave sooner. perhaps it was your presence that made him stay. even if you were pissed at him still, you were still here, still near him.

"i'm gonna go get more beer from the garage." you tell your friends, stumbling a little to your feet.

the truth was that you needed some air. too consumed by logan's heated gaze. you made it down the porch steps before you heard the screen door open and close.

"i don't need any help." you call out over your shoulder.

the foot steps sounded much closer by the time you flicked on the light switch.

"don't you think you've had enough to drink tonight?" logan asks, shutting the garage door behind him.

"i can drink however much i want." you slur slightly. "i am an adult after all ."

"i know, you're an adult."

"are you sure? because wasn't it just a little over a year ago that you were still treating me like a child?"

"if you don't want to be seen as a child, then don't act like one."

"fuck you, logan." you hiss, slamming the fridge door.

"oh sure, it's fuck me for sayin' the truth." logan rolls his eyes.

"it's fuck you for breaking my heart."

"do you think that you didn't break my heart by leaving?"

"i left because you told me to go!" you cried, finally letting the tears flow. "i said i loved you and you got scared like a little kid."

"i got scared because you shouldn't love someone as fucked up as me." he snaps, voice becoming strained.

"did you serious think i didn't know?"

logan looks at you stunned. how did you...?

"you talk in your sleep. it wasn't hard to piece together after that." you answer with sigh. "your mutation doesn't scare me."

there's a moment of silence between the two of you. logan steps forward, touching a lock of your hair; vanilla body wash flooding his senses. he's missed you so much.

"your stuff is still in my drawers." logan whispers. you know what he means; he's never been good with expressing his emotions but you always could tell what he meant. "want ya' to come home, sweetheart."

logan's rough palm moves up to cup the side of your face. your torn between shoving him away or pulling him closer. without a second thought, you nuzzle into his touch. old habits die hard.

"i can't." you tell him.

"yes, you can–"

"no. you don't love me, lo."

"i do, i want to be with you." logan begs, fighting off his tears.

"you love when i'm in bed with you or when we listen to records and do cross word puzzles together, but you are not in love with me." you tell him, lightly removing his hand from your face. "i can't be with someone who hides from me, someone who can't even say out loud that they love me. i'm sorry, logan."

you grab the case of beer and walk past him one last time. it was hell to leave him there but even logan knew he deserved it. he wasn't worthy of your love then and he defintely wasn't worthy of it now. you dodged the bullet that would leave him here to bleed out.

[luna0713hunter]

Lover,Please stay

CEO!Sukuna is a big shot,every women and men's dream. Sometimes you wonder why he settled for someone like you.

The wine tastes bitter on your tongue as you take your first sip; wincing slightly. You've never been a fan of drinking,but when your rich boyfriend invites you out for some, who're you to say no? So you suck it up,and try to swing the drink around your glass instead of actually drinking it.

And it doesn't help that the liquor is bringing out all your doubts you've been having recently.

Instead,you try to focus on the man beside you; Sukuna is busy downing his third whiskey cause he's an absolute freak when it comes to drinking. His pink hair is out of its usually neat shape, probably because of the rough day he had at work; and you watch with careful eyes as he reaches his nibble fingers toward his tie and loses it while he throws back the last of his drink.

"you're staring."

You hum absentmindedly; hating how lightweight you are unlike your boyfriend. You've barely had a few sips for god's sake.

"and what if i am?"

But now, you're staring at the reddish liquid in your glass; your thoughts running wild in your mind. Because even if you want to; even if you desperately wish to, you cant ignore the whispers and giggles you hear from the tables near you. You cant pretend to not see the lustful gazes of the women all around you as soon as your boyfriend had stepped inside the bar.

And you surely cant not hear them giggling among themselves with nothing but vemon in their tone.

"oh my gosh,look at that hottie!!"

"hold on- is that...his partner?!"

"that cant be- i mean- look at HIM!"

"i know right?maybe he's just doing it out of pity or something?"

And you dont know if its the alcohol, or you own mind, but suddenly the bar feels too suffocating.

Too crowded. Too loud.

And its not really your fault; you've been having a shitty week, and you just wished to spend some quality time with you boyfriend. You didn't want to spend your Saturday night in a shitty bar,with some rich ass girls talking shit about you and your relationship.

And its the last straw when you hear their next words.

"oh screw it; I'm gonna hit on him! I'm sure he'd bored out his mind and need a break from his lame ass partner!"

"obviously they're not doing well; they haven't talked much since they walked in!"

So without a word,you suddenly stand up from your sit; slamming you glass hard on the wooden surface of the bar. Sukuna immediately looks your way, lips parting to say something, but you dont wait to hear what it is.

You just grab your purse and rush out of the door, almost stumbling to tables on your way out.

You think they might be laughing at you, but honestly you dont care. You just need some fresh air to cool your head.

And to stop the tears from falling on your burning cheeks.

You turn sharply in the alley just next to the bar; pressing your back to the cold wall behind as you slide down on the ground below. You hug your knees close to your chest as the first sob breaks through your lips.

God,you hate crying; specially because of what others say.

And you know; you know Sukuna's way out of your league. You know a hotshot like him can have anyone he wants,yet he settles for someone like you. You know all this, but that doesn't make it easier to hear it from others.

When you hear heavy footsteps inside the alley,you immensely start to brush your cheeks and eyes harshly; but your hands are immediately stopped midway by a pair of rough ones grabbing onto your wrists.

When you look up through teary eyes,Sukuna sighs at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blushed cheeks.

"you're such a lightweight. How much did you even drink?"

"it's not because of the drink," you mumble, pulling at your hands to which Sukuna doesn't let you, "i didnt even finish my wine."

"then why are you crying,huh?" He sighs again, raising rough fingers to brush your tears away with such care that has you tearing up again. Sukuna 'tsks' and wipes your cheeks once more, ”tell me what's wrong."

You bury your face in your knees to avoid looking at him.

"you must've heard what those women said,Ryo. Dont play dumb."

"so what?"

You snap you head up.

"so what?! doesn't that bother you??"

Sukuna scoffs, shifting slightly. His dark eyes shine even in the barely lit alleyway,and you swallow upon seeing the look on his face.

He looks utterly pissed.

"why the fuck would it bother me what a bunch of good for nothing losers say?" He hold your chin and lowers his face until you can feel the his hot breath on your lips, "nothing in this world matters. Nothing. Except you,me,and us."

When your eyes water again,Sukuna sighs presses his forehead against yours.

"the world's gonna talk shit anyways; whether we like it or not. And i dont give a shit what other's think, because nothing will change the fact that i love you."

When you look up at him with wide, bleary eyes,Sukuna scoffs and pinches your cheek rather roughly.

"dont give me that look; I've said it before."

"Well!" You grumbled through pinched cheek, "you dont say it enough!"

An evil smirk makes way on his pink lips,and your face heats up when his fingers dance across your hips.

"then," you shiver as he pushes at the hem of your dress; taking hold on your upper thigh with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "guess I'll have to show it to you, don't you think doll?"

Your eyes flutter close when he finally presses his lips to yours; and right there and then,you know Sukuna never lies about loving you. After all, he's been always a man to show his love through his actions rather than words.

[notafunkiller]

out of style

Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 7.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.

You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.

You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.

“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.

“Vodka so early?”

You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.

“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.

He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.

God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.

“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!

“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.

“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.

“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”

“Huh?” You choke.

“Vodka lovers.”

Alright, time to get out of here!

You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?

And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.

“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.

You can’t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern.  “Do you feel okay?”

“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.

“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”

His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.

He must be looking for a ring.

God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.

You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.

Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”

You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.

You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.

And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.

“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”

He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”

“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”

“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”

Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”

“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”

You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”

“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”

“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”

You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.

You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.

“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”

“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.

“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”

You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”

You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.

“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.

“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.

“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”

He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”

His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.

“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.

“Aww, what happened?”

It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”

“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”

“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!

“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”

“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”

“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.

“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”

“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”

“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”

“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”

“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”

“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.

“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”

“Stop. It.”

“Why? You didn’t stop!”

He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”

You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.

“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”

“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”

“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”

“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”

“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.

His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”

You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.

“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“With my small dick?”

You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”

He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.

“Why would I let go of my wife?”

You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”

He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?

“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”

“What are you, a fucking stalker?”

“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”

“W-what?”

He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”

“How?”

He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”

You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You  watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”

“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”

You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.

“Why would I notice, James?”

“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”

Fair point...

“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!

You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.

Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.

“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.

“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”

“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...

“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”

He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.

“What?”

“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.

“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”

You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...

“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”

You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.

“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.

When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...

“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”

That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.

“But the wedding… They would kill us.”

“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”

You can’t hold back your laughter.

“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”

“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”

You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”

Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”

“I know.”

*

You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.

“Hurry up!”

“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.

“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.

“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.

“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”

You snort. “My boobs?”

“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.

“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”

“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”

As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”

He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”

You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”

“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”

“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”

“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”

“Then why does it keep coming back?”

He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”

“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”

“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”

“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”

“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”

“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.

“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”

You  take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.”

“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.

“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”

Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”

“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”

He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.

“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”

The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.

“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”

“Dick!”

“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.

Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!

“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”

“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”

He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”

“Eww, what the fuck.”

He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”

Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!”

His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.

You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.

So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.

When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.

There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.

Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…

You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.

As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.

“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”

You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”

“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”

“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”

You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...

“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”

“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”

“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.

“Out of love.”

You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.

“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”

He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.

The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.

He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”

“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.

“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.

“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”

You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“No one for me, either.”

You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”

You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.

Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.

He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.

“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”

You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.

“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”

“I told you I never gave up on us.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Even when you were with other girls?”

Your heart is racing.

“Never took it off.”

You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.

“No wonder why nothing worked.”

“I had no intention to make it work.”

You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.

“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”

You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”

He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.

“I hate you so much!’

He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”

“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”

“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”

“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”

“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.

You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.

“Ass in the air, come on.”

You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.

The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.

You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.

“Mine.”

You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”

And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.

“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”

You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”

“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”

He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”

“James...”

He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.

“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.

You smirk.

“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”

“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”

His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.

“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”

“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.

“We... we have to apply first.”

He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.

“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”

“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.

You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.

“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”

You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.

“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”

He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.

“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”

He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.

“I love you.”

You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”

Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.

“Bucky!”

“What? We need new rings.”

You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”

“We need...”

“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”

“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”

He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”

“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.

“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t want to or can’t?”

You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.

“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”

“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”

“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”

“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”

“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.

“Table. God... Do you think they know?”

“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pill?”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”

“I assume you are still on the pill, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.

Ass...

“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”

“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”

“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.

“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”

“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”

He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”

You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.

“I know. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”

“Do you plan on staying there?”

He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”

“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”

“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.

“Why? Is this all you could give me?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.

“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”

“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”

“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”

You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”

“What snack?”

“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”

“I told you she is not-”

“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.

“You’re so jealous.”

“Lock the door!”

You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.

[red-phantom-0]

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Neglected Reader pt. 3

-> continuation of these aus 🍁 , 🍁🍁 , 🍁🍁🍁🍁

- fast forward and 3 weeks have passed, and readers blissfully living out their best life.

- currently they're chilling out in their hot tub , sipping on an oreo milkshake on a casual Tuesday . They're enjoying life when they can hear some very familiar voices comming from inside their penthouse.

- cue their so called adopted siblings walking out into their patio . " Holy fuck guys they got a whole back yard out here " exclaimed Duke as he looked around eye wide .

- " they're giving Bruce some competition " Jason mumbled as he opened up reader's outdoor fridge and took a swig of their orange juice .

- reader just looks at them with a ' are you serious ' expression because like why are these people in their house ????.

- " I've seen better " complained Damian as he made himself home on one of reader's expensive plush chairs in the patio. Reader let out an offended scoff. " first off you idiots break in my house and y'all are complaining ?"

- everyone stills in their movement - they hadn't seen reader in their hot tub and was fully expected them to be at work . Reader takes a dramatic sip out of their milkshake and gives them all a death glare .

- " Get out before I tell your grandpa " reader threatens . The bat siblings look at each other confusingly . " Wait grandpa ? Do You mean Bruce?" Dick questions and reader just nods .

- " Bro Bruce is our adopted dad and yours too-" Tim says with a horrified look . Reader's eyes bulge open in disbelief . " Tch he ain't my dad because he looks like he's old and can't pull any " reader says confidently.

- bat siblings all let out a shocked gasp . " Dude Bruce literally pulls " Dick says defensively. " Yeah my father has immaculate , amazing , perfect taste in women an example would be my mother " Damian says as he propped up his feet with a confident smirk. Everyone just stares at him.

- " WHAT ?!" He exclaims defensively . " Bro your mom is like - probably one of his worst relationships " Jason says matter of factly. Damian scowls , " y'all just jealous that as the blood son I was the product of one of his best decisions "

- bat siblings all scoff and started arguing and readers just there like 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ because they're just tryna have a good night and these idiots are ruining it .

- bored out of their mind reader slips away to put on decent clothes and goes to their kitchen to get a glass of much needed wine only to find the man of the hour sitting on one of their kitchen stools drinking their wine.

- reader has to hold themselves back from throwing him out their penthouse . " Monseiur Bruce " reader hums out as they opened their fridge .

- Bruce smiles at them " good evening my beloved daughter /son what a lovely family dinner we are having " he says with a smile . Reader shoots him a glare as they pop a cherry in their mouth . " I didn't know breaking and entering a stranger's house is considered a family dinner- well that's another charge to go along with your tax evasion " reader says nonchantly.

- Bruce's eye twitches because what do you mean reader thinks they're strangers - yeah maybe they haven't acted like family to you but that doesn't mean they couldn't start now -

- in walks in bat siblings - still debating and arguing over readers statement . Bruce raised his eyebrow at the sight , " what are you guys arguing about ?" . " Reader thought you were our grandpa and says you can't pull " tim says exhausted.

- Bruce froze - his son/daughter thought he was a grandpa - he's not - he's not that old right ?? He immediately whips over to reader . "You think I'm old ???" He asks them seriously.

- reader looks at him with a poker face , " Yeah bro, you look 67 " . Bruce then literally crumbles in his seat like a child . " Bro I think we broke him - " dick says with concern while Jason laughs hysterically. " Father why does it matter what age reader thinks you are " Damian says confused.

- Bruce just looks at them and then back at reader , " because I always thought everyone considered me fairly young " . Reader just shrugs. " You might think you're young but I'm sure your back pain screams otherwise " .

- Bat siblings just ' ooooo ' at Bruce . " They got a point Bruce " Jason pointed out, and Bruce sent him a glare . " Listen guys we came to get to know our amazing sister/brother not argue " Duke says .

- reader let out a sarcatic cough and is fustrated with everyone's bullshit . " first off like hell i wanna know you and secondly get out of my house before I throw yall out " reader threatens , throughly done because their night was ruined by some delusional family.

- everyone began arguing and begging to stay but reader threw a butter knife at dick which made the boy fall to the floor and scream . " OKAY WE WILL LEAVE " exclaimed Tim and he grabbed Dick once again and hauled everyone outside .

- reader follows them out their front door and watches them all haul into their limbo not before screaming , " AND STAY THE FUCK OUT " and slamming the door shut .

- reader leans against the door , relief washes over them and they return to the comfort of their bed and began to get ready to sleep . Reader scrolls through their socials for a while until they stumble upon a post by Bruce Wayne himself.

- ' spending quality time with the ones that matters ' and it's a post with the boys and him in their house with a picture of them scowling in the background . Reader can feel their jaw clenching in rage . The post had already one million likes in the span of only thirty minutes .

- reader then gets several notifications- it was the batfam following them on their official social accounts . Reader scowls as their inbox is practically filled with persons commenting about them and questioning them.

- reader just turns off their phone and goes to bed because that's a future them problem .

[veltana]

No one as sweet as you - Mafia!Stucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Reader ✦ Word count: ~9,4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Mafia AU, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective!stucky, TW: reader is verbally and physically abused by john walker, idiots in love, sharing a bed, poly relationship, piv sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, praise kink, pet names (Sweets), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: When you’re hurt by your boyfriend you go to the two people you can depend on for anything, Steve and Bucky, your best friends. ✦ Note: This is a fic that was previously posted on AO3, at the beginning of the year. But since I'm stuck in writer's block right now I thought I would post this in case you haven't read it. It's one of my favorites. There are some short prequel fics to this also posted on AO3, about when they were living together in college. I'll post those too in the following weeks.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The bouncer gives you one glance before he opens the door for you and the line of people you pass shout angrily but you don’t even spare them a glance, your thoughts elsewhere. The music in the club usually invigorates you but tonight it passes through without leaving a trace.

Making your way to Monica at the bar, the people you pass shoot you weird glances and you know you must look a mess. When she sees you she comes right over, the music is too loud to talk so you share a squeeze of the forearm in place of a hug before she pours you your favorite wine, with a pitying smile at your smeared mascara. You throw a kiss at her before making your way to the back and once again the big man at the door opens it for you after a quick look.

The music is muted as you make your way to the stairs at the back that take you up to their private room. When your heels land at the top and you meet Bucky's eyes he lifts the girl currently on his lap off and declares "Everyone out."

Steve shoots him an irritated look before his eyes follow Bucky's and sees you. You stand perfectly still while the women and men who were enjoying a private party with two of the biggest mobsters in New York mill past you down the stairs, some even shoot you dirty looks.

When the last person has passed, you take a step towards them, but before you're two steps in, Bucky has taken the glass from your hand and Steve has lifted you into his arms. You cling to him, hands grasping his shirts, and finally, you know you’re safe.

Steve sits down with you in his lap, cradling your head to lean it against him, the other arm holding you tight at your waist. Bucky's palms are gentle when he rubs your back soothingly. None of them say anything at first but the tears running down your face speak for themselves. You made it all the way without breaking down but with them, you can be vulnerable. For the last seven years, they’ve been the rock, the shelter, and your haven.

"Talk to us, Sweets," Bucky's voice is only that soft with you, maybe sometimes with Steve too, “What’s going on?” You try to take a deep breath, but it just stutters. After a few more tries it’s better but you’re not sure where to begin. They give you time, and don't press you on information, like they otherwise do in their line of work.

Finally, you release Steve's shirt and instead, you find the hand he has wrapped around your waist, twisting the rings on his fingers as you try to speak. You don't want to look at them, the shame and the anxiety is running high in your body but you want to tell them, you just have to find the right words.

"You know the guy I've been seeing," you start and feel Steve's arms tighten around you. Before you can say more Bucky mutters "I'm gonna kill him." Steve is calmer and asks, "What about John, Sweets?" He speaks into your hair, his voice is gentle but it has a hard edge. "He's been so sweet since we started going out, but he's been having a rough time at work lately," you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to remember, your heart beating like crazy. The memories bring forth the panic and the fear again and your breath gets shallow.

"It's alright Sweets, you're here with us, nothing can hurt you," Bucky's low voice is comforting, together with their touch, and you know he’s telling you the truth. It’s the reason you came here instead of going home.

You take a few more breaths and continue "So I thought I'd do something nice for him. We had a spa day and while he soaked in the tub I made dinner and dressed up for him." Frowning hard, your fingers spin the rings on Steve's hand faster and faster the more your anxiety builds, knowing what’s coming.

"And everything was great until I poured the wine and spilled some on the tablecloth." Your mouth opens and closes a few times and the tears start to fall again but Bucky is there with his thumbs, cradling your face and brushing them away, while Steve rocks you gently in his embrace.

"He was furious," you cry. "Said I ruined everything! He threw the wine in my face, then the bottle across the room. He tried to grab me but I ran out of there." There is a long silence when you finish, it’s just your sobs and the music from the other side of the wall. Then Steve says "I'm gonna fucking kill him," his voice laced with rage, and he hugs you even closer.

"I took a cab here, I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t wanna go home." With the last words out you feel a small relief. You’ve told them. You’ve told someone. The scene still plays in your head, seeing John's eyes turn black with rage when the drops of rosé landed on the white linen, feeling the fear when he started screaming.

"Thank you for telling us, Sweets. You’re an incredible person," Steve says and moves you out of his lap and over to Bucky's. They treat you with the utmost care, moving slowly, giving you time to protest if you want, or detangle yourself if that's what you desire. But you let them manipulate your body how they like because sometimes they know what you need more than you do.

"You did nothing wrong," he goes on to say, holding onto your hands, letting his thumbs caress the skin. "John is an absolute fucking asshole and no one should be treated like that.” You meet his green-blue eyes that are only soft for you, and Bucky. Right now, Steve isn’t the feared mobster that people avert their eyes from when he enters a room, scared they’re going to end up in a ditch because they looked at him wrong. No, this Steve is your best friend.

"I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to go home in case he comes there," you confess. "You'll stay with us," Bucky decides, voice finite. "Let’s go home so you can take a shower and change clothes." You nod and are about to stand up but Bucky is quicker, changing his grip and holding you close as he gets up. He carries you to the car and doesn't let go of you until you're in their mansion, in the room you have there.

When he puts you down your feet are a little unsteady and they both look at you with concern, but you give them a weak smile “It’s okay.” "We'll be right outside, shout if you need anything," Steve tells you and when you nod they both step out and close the door softly behind them.

For a moment you stand still, trying to make sense of the last hours, wondering how everything went to shit. Then you finally get a good look at yourself in the tall mirror and see the black rivulets of mascara and eyeliner smudged down your cheeks, the foundation almost gone.

The dress is ruined by the wine and even if it was expensive and you can get it dry cleaned you don’t want it anymore. You pull it off and throw it into the trash can, quickly followed by the heels. The lingerie is one of your favorite sets but you're unsure if you will ever be able to enjoy it again without remembering how you chose it especially for John. After a moment it goes into the trash, and the earrings too, feeling like you need everything from the night to be gone.

The only thing you keep on your body is the necklace that was a gift from Bucky and Steve years ago and you haven’t taken it off since. It's custom-made with three delicate chains in gold, silver, and black twisted together. You loved it the moment you saw it, knowing that the chains were the three of you, twisted together through the rest of your lives. When you touch it with your fingers it makes you feel better, because you can feel them with you.

The shower feels more than just bodily cleansing and when you remove the last pieces of your smeared makeup, smoothing eye cream over your puffy eyes, the feeling of fear and panic is distant.

In the closet are a bunch of your clothes, probably more than you like to admit, but the best part is the drawer with their old t-shirts. You pull one out, not sure which of them it used to belong to, but it’s worn and soft against your skin. For a moment you press it against your nose, breathing in the detergent that reminds you of this place and all the wonderful memories that you have with them, before you find your pajama pants.

Out in your room you sit on the bed and look around at the muted colors. Bucky and Steve insisted that the room was yours, not just a guest room, and it makes you smile a little when you think about how much fun you had decorating it.

After taking a deep breath you open the door and find them just a few steps away. The look in Bucky's eyes is murderous and Steve's fists are clenched by his side, but when they turn to you they go back to being your best friends that you met in college all those years ago. "How are you feeling?" Bucky steps up to you and pulls you into a soft hug, tucking your head underneath his chin as you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of him. Steve comes up behind you, placing his palms on your shoulders, rubbing the muscles carefully. "Better now," you answer. "But I never had dinner so I'm a bit hungry."

Bucky pulls away from you, cradling your face, tilting it up until you're looking right into his light blue eyes. "Let's go raid the kitchen," he smiles and holds your gaze for a few seconds more and there is so much love in those eyes it's almost scary. You know he would burn down the city if it made you happy, they both would, and that intensity is one of the many things that have kept you from finding out what it would be like to be theirs. You're not sure you'd be able to handle it.

When Bucky lets go of you, Steve's arm goes around your waist and he pulls you into him, Bucky takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you walk to the kitchen. You sit down at the kitchen island while they open the fridge.

"The chef made mac'n’cheese," Steve says and pulls out an oven pan, covered in tin foil with a post-it note on top with instructions for heating it. Bucky turns on the oven and says, "Want something to drink Sweets?"

"Soda?" you ask and Steve pulls a can out of the fridge before settling down beside you, handing it to you. You hand it right back "Please? I don't wanna fuck up my nails." That makes him chuckle as he opens it and the sound makes you warm on the inside so you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you sigh. "For always being here for me. I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin shit," Bucky spits out, glaring at you from where he is standing by the oven. Steve and you chuckle at his harsh tone but then he leans forward, over the counter towards you, resting his large arms against the surface.

"I mean it, Sweets, don't you ever think you ruin anything by showing up, for any reason," his voice is stern but you know it comes from a place of love. "Thank you, Bucky, it means a lot," you smile.

When the oven is warm Bucky puts the tray in and pulls out plates. It only takes a few minutes and your tummy rumbles as the kitchen fills with the smell of cheese. Bucky and Steve make small talk about work things and you're grateful for them filling the silence while you finally get some food.

But it isn't the nice chicken that you cooked for John that you looked forward to eating and your eyes begin to burn. Even though you try to force the tears back they come anyway and run down your cheeks as you eat. Neither Bucky nor Steve notice until you reach for a paper towel and sniffle loudly. Not a second later you're wrapped up in Steve's embrace, crying into his shirt again while Bucky caresses your hair and nape. They mumble sweet things to you and tell you that you're safe and that nothing is ever going to hurt you again.

After a few minutes, the tears run dry. "I'm okay," you say and Steve loosens his hold, his eyes filled with concern for you. "You sure?" "Yeah, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Should probably try to get some sleep.” "We're sleeping in my room," Bucky decides and you nod, Steve too.

It's not unusual for the three of you to share a bed when one of you has had a rough time. The first time it happened was after finals and you all fell asleep in Steve's bed, totally exhausted, and slept better than you'd had in weeks.

Then it was after break-ups, yours, Steve's, Bucky's, somehow you all ended up in a bed together every time and it wasn't sexual at any point, just friends being there for each other and it continued through the years. The only time it was out of the question was when one of you was in a relationship, then it just felt weird, and from previous experience, it wasn't something that partners were all that accepting of.

You retrieve your pillows and cover from your room before settling in Bucky’s huge bed, your feet twisted up with Steve's, and Bucky is holding your hand. It's nice, it's familiar and you drift off knowing you're safe with them.

The room is dark when their soft voices wake you, but that might be because of the black-out curtains and not because it's still night. They’ve moved close enough to you that you can feel the warmth from their bodies on either side of you, and Bucky’s chest is right in front of your eyes when you open them slightly to peek. They don't notice you're awake and you don't feel like announcing it either, curious what they’re talking about.

"We let her decide." Even if Steve's tone is hushed it's still hard. "She is too sweet, you know she would never hurt a fly, she's going to say no," Bucky protests harshly in a whisper. This is interesting, you think.

"Even if you and I are fine with getting blood on our hands, maybe she doesn't want to live with that, maybe she wants to press charges." Steve has always been the more level-headed of the two, good with looking at things from all angles and keeping his cool. Bucky huffs and you want to giggle. His emotions always get him in trouble, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When Bucky is angry he sees red and when he loves he does it with his whole soul and being. One time you asked Steve how he isn’t dead yet since his poker face seems to suck, but Steve explained that when they’re doing business he is usually calm and collected. When his emotions finally break through, people know they should probably run.

"Fine.” You can tell Bucky is not happy but he lowers his voice even more, and now it’s tinged with something else. “But I'm never letting her go again." His words together with his gentle tone make your heart skip. There was a time when you seriously thought about asking them to see if the three of you could work it out, and be more than just friends. But what you have with them is so precious that if it fails in the end, and you lose your best friends, you're not sure how you're going to go on.

"And you think I will?" Steve mutters. "We should have said something a long time ago." "Well, we can't go back in time. All I know is that I love her and I can't see her with anyone else ever again," Bucky's voice sounds like it's going to crack. He never cries but that is as close as it gets.

Steve reaches over you towards him, you can't see what he does but you know how Steve's comforting hands look on Bucky, you've seen it before. Sometimes they're even sweeter with each other than they are with you, when they think no one can see them, not even you. It's so clear that they love each other deeply, honestly it's surprising that they don't just date each other.

You hear Bucky hum in contentment and Steve gives a small soft laugh. It feels like a good time as any to pretend to wake up. You file away their words for another day, not ready to deal with them now in the wake of what’s happened. First, you need to heal the broken heart you're already nursing before thinking about giving it away again.

With a groan you turn from your side to your back, stretching and blinking your eyes open. They're lying on their sides, both resting their heads on their hands. "What time is it?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Just past nine," Bucky informs you and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. "And you two are still here?" "Just for you," Steve says softly and finds your hand, twisting your fingers together.

Both of them are early risers and you hate mornings, something they tease you for endlessly. "Honestly though, have you already, like, gone for a run, had breakfast, and then sealed some important deal?" "Nope." Bucky slides his arm in under your neck, placing the other hand on your hip, and pulls you closer to him. "We didn't want to leave in case you woke up." Steve shuffles closer, his chest pressing into your shoulder. "Didn't want you to think we left you all by yourself."

You hum and decide to ask "Would it be okay if I stay here a few days?" "Sweets, stay as long as you want. It's your home as much as ours,” Steve answers. "No,” you correct. “My name is definitely not on any papers for this house." "We can fix that if that's what you want. Just move here." Bucky is serious but you decide to laugh it off. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" "Like old times." he smiles.

"Except I have no desire to listen to the people you bring home scream and moan, got enough of that in college,” tumbles out of your mouth without really thinking of it. They exchange a look but before they can say anything you hastily continue. "Do you think I need to break up with John, or do you think he got the message when I left?"

An uneasy silence falls and Bucky breaks it. "I'm gonna be honest with you Sweets, I really wanna fucking kill him, and make it as painful and as horrifying for him as possible. Death will feel like a blessing in the end." Steve speaks next. "But it's your decision, and if you wanna press charges against him, we'll make our lawyers available."

It’s a lot to take in at that moment. "I don't know,” you answer truthfully. “It still hurts, I'm still scared but I'm not sure what will make it better." "When you've decided you let us know and we'll do whatever you want." Steve bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"If I see him on the street or something though I'm gonna punch him," Bucky says casually before letting go of you and getting out of bed. When his warmth leaves you, you whine and that makes him chuckle. He kneels on the bed and kisses your forehead. "Steve will keep you company while I make breakfast." "You mean go get what the chef has already prepared?" you joke. Bucky shoots you a look before leaving the bedroom.

"We should be glad he isn't actually cooking. Remember when he tried to make pancakes for his girlfriend and almost burned down the apartment," Steve notes. "That's because he got distracted. I mean, I'm glad I came out of my room when I did but the image of Bucky and her on the kitchen table still haunts me," you chuckle.

"You weren't exactly innocent back in those days either," Steve points out with a laugh. "But I never did it on the communal surfaces," you defend with a huff. "No, all we got was listening to you trying to stifle every sound and failing miserably." "Well, at least I didn't break a wall while fucking someone." "It was a shitty wall, never have that problem here." "See that's why I don't wanna move here." "We can soundproof your room?" "Or I can just live in my apartment?"

Bucky comes back with a breakfast tray and places it on the bedside table before pulling out your phone from his pants. "It's been buzzing nonstop since I got down," he explains and hands it to you right as the screen lights up with an incoming call.

"It's John," you tell them, and your chest floods with anxiety as you stare at the screen and sit up against the headboard. "Answer it," Steve sits up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. Bucky is pressed against you much the same on your other side. "On speaker," he instructs and takes out his own phone to record the call.

Your hands shake as you swipe to answer. "H-hello." Your voice is wavering. "Baby! I'm sorry for yesterday, I'm sorry I got mad. I've been calling since you left, I've been so worried. I checked your place but you weren't home. Where are you?" John says in a worried voice. "I'm at a friend's house," you reply.

The feelings in your chest are conflicted, on one hand you never want to see him again but hearing his voice makes you remember that when he is good he is great, amazing even, and you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him. For the last few months, you gave it your all and you were even prepared to tell him you love him.

"I'll come and pick you up and let me apologize properly," he sounds pained like he is actually sorry for what he did. Fuck, it's so tempting to go back but you know better. You know that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and getting wine thrown in your face is probably not the worst that can happen.

"No, John." You try to sound confident but you're not sure it comes across. "I don't think it's going to work out between us." The moment you say the words the tears well up and Steve starts rubbing your shoulder." You're doing great," he whispers right by your ear so John doesn't hear.

"Are you-" John sounds shocked. "Are you breaking up with me… over the phone?" "Yeah, sorry." You cringe, you shouldn't be sorry. "You scared me yesterday and I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Babe you don't need to be scared of me, I would never hurt you I swear," he sounds like he is about to cry and a part of you wants to comfort him. "You threw wine in my face and said some really mean things," you point out.

"I didn't mean any of that, I promise. You know I've had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you." There is some part of you that desperately wants to believe him. "That's not an excuse," you go on. "I'm not an object for you to take out your frustration on. It's not going to work John."

There is a long silence before he speaks again and now his voice is laced with rage instead. "Then you can come get your fucking things right now." "John, please don't-" you start but he cuts you off.

"You fucking bitch, you lead me on for months and then you break up with me over the phone, because what? You think I’m gonna hit you or something?" "Yeah, maybe," you answer truthfully. "You're such a dumb bitch, I would never lay a hand on a woman I care about."

Both Steve and Bucky stir beside you. When you shoot them a glance they are both staring at the screen with murder in their eyes. "Calling me names won't change my mind, John," it hurts when he says them, like an actual stab in the heart and it brings out more tears.

Bucky leans over and taps the mute button. "There is no way you're going over there, we'll send Sam and Vis." You nod and unmute while John is raging on about how dumb and useless you are and how he wishes he'd never wasted his time on you. "I'm going to send some friends to pick up my things."

"Oh, so you won't even face me yourself?” his voice is unrecognizable now. “You know what? I'm glad for what I did, I'm not sorry anymore, you're obviously a fucking coward and not worth a second of my time." Every ounce of fight is gone from you, you're just tired and want it to be over. You don’t want to listen to the hurtful words anymore so you simply say "Goodbye John," and don't even wait for a response before hanging up. You drop the phone into the sheets and bury your face in your hands, your body jerking with sobs.

Steve and Bucky’s arms go around you but you hardly notice, everything is just excruciating pain, your heart smashed into a million pieces. Twenty-four hours ago you were happy with a man you thought you knew, and loved, but now everything is broken and you're not sure what you’re going to do next.

It takes a long time for you to stop crying and when it finally ends you're exhausted, again. The coffee Bucky brought has gone cold but Steve holds a glass of juice to your lips and makes you take a few sips before coaxing some yogurt into your mouth. "Steve is going to stay with you while I take care of a few things. If you need me, you tell him and I'll be right back," Bucky promises when he leaves the bed again, taking the tray with him out of the bedroom.

"Is he going to kill him?" you ask softly as you sink down under the covers. Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest until your face is squished against it. "No," his voice is soft. "Not without me." "Steve…" "Can you blame us, Sweets? John was lucky it was over the phone or else we would have beaten him into a pulp for saying those things."

"He never acted like that before," you whisper. "I'm just happy you got out before he put his hands on you," Steve whispers back. "If you had shown up with bruises yesterday I might have lost it." "I love you," you tell him and he kisses the top of your head. "I love you too, Sweets, and I know Bucky feels just the same." You hum and let the exhaustion take over.

They have switched when you wake the next time, you're in Bucky's arms and he is carding his fingers through your hair speaking quietly to you. "Wake up Sweets, it's time for dinner."

Even if you’ve slept right through lunch you shake your head and swing your leg over his hip, clinging to him. "Don't wanna get up," you whine. "If you eat dinner, we can watch a movie on the couch afterward." He knows just how to tempt you and you need something to try and take your mind off everything.

"Candy?" you pull back. Even if the light in the room is dim you can still see the blue in his eyes, and the crinkles at the corners when he smiles. "You know we keep stock of everything you like, there is always something sweet for our Sweets."

You hug him hard. "I love you Bucky, you know that right?" "I love you too, Sweets." He kisses the top of your head, much like Steve did earlier. "And I know Steve feels just the same." That makes you giggle "Steve said the same thing." "Well he is a smart man," he shrugs.

Bucky all but pulls you out of bed but he doesn't force you to change out of your pajamas. He leads you to the kitchen where Steve is plating the food and your stomach grumbles when you smell it. They have set the table with candles and it looks lovely but it also reminds you of your last candle-lit dinner. Bucky sees the look on your face turns you away from it and tilts your chin up with his fingertips, "It’s…” he begins, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “We want to replace every bad memory, but if it’s too much too soon we’ll throw it all out.”

The scary thing is that he is serious. If you said the word they would throw everything out, but you don't want that, you want a nice dinner with them and try to get past what happened. Maybe it will help, maybe it won’t but you won’t know until you’ve tried. And if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that you are safe with them.

“It’s fine, I’ll try,” you promise with a smile before turning around to sit down at the table. Steve serves the food and Bucky pours you a glass of wine. After a few bites, Bucky brings up some stupid shit the three of you did a long time ago and through dinner, you reminisce about old times.

Since meeting John you haven't seen them as much because you learned early on that partners were weirded out or even jealous of what you had with them. Right now you can’t fathom why you would ever do that, because these two people are the best thing in your life.

You fold your napkin into your lap and look at them. "I'm sorry for, like, ghosting you the last few months," you swallow hard. "I've been a shitty friend but you always take care of me when I need you, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise I’ll do better."

"It's okay sweets," Steve smiles and reaches over the table to grasp your hand. Bucky takes the other and his thumb caresses your knuckles. "Don't apologize, there is no need." The lump in your throat is from love and not from sadness this time and you don't try to speak, just nod, squeezing their hands back.

Afterward, you cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie but ten minutes in you're already nodding off. When Steve and Bucky notice you're asleep they turn the TV off and Steve carries you up to Bucky's bedroom. "She has work tomorrow," Bucky whispers and pulls the cover up over your body. "Fuck, should we wake her?" Steve asks back. "No, let her sleep, she starts at nine so if we let her sleep til seven it should be fine."

Fortunately, the alarm on your phone goes off as usual but when you turn to snooze it, you instead roll into a warm chest. Steve grumbles and reaches for your phone, handing it to you before seizing you around the waist, and burying his face in your neck.

“Hey, I have to get up,” you mutter. It feels like your eyes are filled with sand and your head is pounding but you have to go to work nonetheless. “You don’t have to work,” he speaks into your skin and it makes a tingling feeling travel through you.

“Don’t be silly, let go of me,” you chuckle and detangle yourself. The other side of the bed is empty, Bucky already up. You drag yourself over to your room to shower before getting ready and eating breakfast. Steve insists on driving you to work and Bucky comes and sees you off with a long hug and a kiss on your hair. “I’ve put Clint and Peter to watch your apartment and Sam and Vis are going to be outside your work all day, Sweets.” “Thank you, Bucky.”

When Steve drops you off he points out the car. "If you see John or you for any other reason feel unsafe you can go to them right away, or call us,” he tucks a strand of hair in behind your ear. “Don’t hesitate. You mean everything to us and we want to keep you safe, Sweets,” You nod. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek before heading to work.

What you told yourself would only be a few days, turns into a few weeks and now it’s almost two months. Despite your initial refusal, you’re enjoying living with them again. A few times after the break-up, John tried to contact you and every time the phone started buzzing and your anxiety spiked you found one of them and they helped you through it.

You haven’t slept in your room once and neither has Steve, it's always the three of you sleeping in Bucky's bed. It could be because Bucky has an expensive bed that you sleep so soundly, but in the back of your head, you know it’s because their presence calms you.

If Bucky or Steve can't drive you to work, someone else does, your own car is still parked on the street by your apartment and you don’t have any desire to go get it. But you do miss some of your clothes, and toiletries, so maybe you should take it as a sign that you need to go back.

After getting home from work that day you walk up to their office, a little apprehensive. Both of them are leaning over the desk when you poke your head in, their cuffs rolled up, exposing their underarms. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, they look too good. Steve sees you first and a smile splits his face. “Hey Sweets, have a good day at work?”

Bucky turns and opens his arms towards you when you step into the room. His hug is warm and comforting and you answer Steve’s question with a yes, before taking a step back from them. "I know I said I was only going to stay a few days but it's been way more than that now, so I think I'll go back to my place after work tomorrow." You try to sound as neutral as possible, neither sad nor happy, just stating a fact.

"No," Bucky breathes, fists tightening at his sides. "I agree with Bucky, don't leave," Steve's voice is calm and his face doesn’t give much away but his eyes are betraying him, they’re too glossy, too wide, and too filled with fear to miss.

The other reason you need to go back home is the way they are treating you and touching you. It’s making your feelings run wild and you can't have that, you can’t risk losing them too. And if that wasn't enough they've invaded your dreams with their touches and words, making you wake up aching for them in a way that is totally inappropriate.

"I can't stay, you know that," you sigh. "No, I don't." Bucky is frustrated, staring at you. "I really fucking don't know why you can't stay. We love having you here and you seem to love being here. Just stay."

His mood is making you defensive, you don't want to explain that you're obviously catching feelings soon after getting out of something traumatic. You need to think, and every time you wake up drenched, tucked in between them you are seconds away from ruining everything by confessing or honestly just taking one of their hands and pushing it in between your legs, hoping they will help you get off.

"I need my own space, Bucky," you cross your arms and glare at him. "You have your own room," he states and takes a step closer. "That I don't use anyway," you reply and take a step back. "Because you don't want to!" His raised voice silences you not because you're scared but because he's right. Bucky isn’t stupid and he's not the type to sugarcoat things when he's upset.

Your heart is hammering. "No I don't want to," you confess with a breath. "But I need to." Then you turn to go but only get a step from the desk before Steve grabs your wrist. He spins you into his chest, Bucky coming up behind you, boxing you in between them. Bucky's head falls on your shoulder. "I can't let you go again, Sweets, I can't do it."

Your mind flashes back to the morning when you pretended to sleep and heard them talking. The breath in your chest hitches as you look up into Steve's blue-green eyes. “I’m with him, Sweets,” he says in a low voice and cups your cheek with his large hand. “You belong here, with us.”

Your mouth opens and you try to protest but it dies on your tongue and Steve takes the opportunity to continue. "We love you, more than anything, we want you to be ours, more than just our best friend. Live with us, be with us in every sense of the word. All three of us, together," his voice wavers at the end.

The words sink in slowly. Be with them. Be theirs. Stay. Your body is aching to say yes and your heart is about to beat its way out of your chest. “But…” “All I know is that I feel incomplete without you, like a part of my soul is somewhere else, and the only time I'm at peace is when I'm with you two. I can't keep living like a part of me is missing. So I'm asking you, please stay, please help us figure this out and be with us." Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. "Every time I see you with someone else my heart gets ripped out of my chest and I've tried to be with other people, we both have, but in the end, they’re not you."

Their confessions break down your defenses as their words ring true. In all your relationships over the years, there's always been something missing but you've never been able to figure out what. There's been passion and there's been love but it's always lacking something and now you think you get it. It has lacked them and the deep connection you share through years and years of friendship. Feeling stupid about wanting to leave and thinking you weren’t ready to be with them makes tears well in your eyes. Whatever it is you three can figure it out, it may not be traditional but it beats being unhappy.

"Don't cry, Sweets." Steve runs his thumb over your cheek. You lean your head into his chest, nodding against it. "I'll stay," you sniffle. The arms around your waist tighten and Bucky speaks into your shoulder. "Really Sweets?" he sounds like he’s worried that maybe you're joking.

"Really Bucky," you promise, wrapping your arms around Steve and hugging him close. For a moment it’s just the three of you enveloped in your shared love but then Bucky rights himself and you look up at him over your shoulder, matching his silly smile.

He leans in like he is about to kiss you but he stops himself, his eyes searching yours for something, and it's scary. If you take the plunge everything will change, or maybe it won't, but it feels like an earthquake is rolling through your life, upsetting everything and if you let him kiss you it will be real. But that's what you want.

"Please?" you ask him and his whole face lights up before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. It could be described as fireworks, an erupting volcano, or maybe feeling the first rays of sunlight on your skin after years in darkness, but nothing will come close to the feeling of being kissed by Bucky.

It's a chaste kiss with just his lips moving carefully against yours. It's over quicker than you want but in his place is Steve, turning your head back towards him and descending on you. His fingers run through your hair and he opens your mouth to let his tongue play with yours, the feeling once again indescribable, it's just the feeling of right. Everything about it feels right.

Even if the kiss is slow when he pulls back your breathing is labored and you're clutching his shirt. "I-" you begin but can’t find any words. That kiss ignited something inside you, it's like you're seeing color for the first time, everything is clearer and sharper. What even was your life before?

"Are doing okay Sweets?" Bucky asks next to your ear and you nod in response. When his soft lips caress the side of your neck you whimper and lean your head to give him better access, he chuckles against your skin, nipping it and making you gasp. "I wanna eat you up, find out what you taste like everywhere."

It’s a badly kept secret that Bucky has a marking kink. You’ve seen his exes, you know he's possessive and likes to leave marks. You can't wait to have them on you so you whisper, "Mark me.”

Steve chuckles above you. "She knows you, Bucky," he says with a smile. "You too, Steve, please?" You’re almost begging, but not quite, just asking nicely. "You want me to give you a hickey?" he asks with a crooked smile but those eyes are too easy to read. He craves you. "Or a bruise, or a bite mark, something, anything," "Fuck…" His face changes to match his dark eyes. "You want everyone to know you belong to us, Sweets?" he asks with a hoarse voice and you feel the large bulge in his pants press against your stomach.

You nod, biting your lip. "Show me how you do it, Bucky.” They spin you around and Bucky grabs at the collar of your blouse, pulling harshly, sending the buttons flying over the office. “Hey-” you begin but he pulls the fabric aside exposing the juncture between your shoulder and neck. First, he sinks his teeth in, hard enough for you to hiss but not breaking the skin, then he closes his lips and sucks.

It's painful but the act in itself makes you throb. When he pulls back you release your breath but Steve is quick to pull the neckline on the other side and do the exact same thing. He is gentler but when he's done there is still a purple bruise on your skin. "Fuck me," you whimper against Bucky.

"Yes, Sweets, we will. Long and hard until you can't take it anymore. We're going to ruin you." Steve promises before he grabs you and lifts you up, spinning you so you can wrap your legs around him as he starts walking to the bedroom, Bucky right behind you. You reach your hand out towards him and he grabs it, kissing your palm and knuckles. "We're going to take care of you Sweets, you'll never want for anything," he promises with a wicked smirk.

Steve places you on the edge of the bed and stands up, looking down at you. Bucky comes up beside him, resting his forearm on Steve's shoulder. "Look at our sweets, can you believe it?" Bucky asks. Steve turns to him with a smile. "Yes." Then he places two fingers under Bucky's chin, turning his head before kissing him. It's heated, filthy and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. You squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure you're feeling in your cunt. Their kiss shows that it's nothing new, they've obviously done it before and you're a little mad that they have withheld this from you.

When Steve starts pulling on Bucky's clothes you can't keep the moan from slipping out. They both break away and turn to you and you feel small in the best way possible. "Did you like that?" Bucky asks before leaning down and kissing you.

The knowledge that his tongue was just in Steve's mouth and is now sliding against yours makes you moan again. You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and he pulls on your top. When you separate, he pulls it off and you’re left in just your bralette. Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat at the sight and starts taking off his own clothes.

Bucky kneels in front of you on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off, while you stare at Steve as more and more skin is revealed. He holds your gaze the whole time and you bite your lip when he starts at his pants. His chest and forearms are huge, covered in tattoos but in no way hiding the muscle underneath. It makes your mouth water and your cunt clench.

Bucky starts kissing up your bare leg, beginning at your ankles and slowly working his way up your calve and the inside of your thigh. When you're still staring at Steve he nips your skin. "I know he's gorgeous but when I eat your pussy I want your eyes on me, Sweets." He tries to look offended but his pupils are blown wide with lust.

Just the thought of him between your legs makes a shiver run through you and your cunt impossibly wetter. Nodding at him you caress the side of his face and watch him, the closer he gets, the more you start to tremble with need. No one had ever made you feel so needy and horny.

Bucky kisses your cunt through your underwear, making you gasp. "Please Bucky, I need you." "I know, I can smell how fucking wet you are Sweets." He twists your panties out of the way. "Fuck, Steve, look at her, she's dripping."

Steve, in just his underwear now, slides his fingers gently through the mess, making you tremble and moan, before bringing the fingers to his mouth and holding your gaze as he licks them clean. Then Bucky's mouth is on you, his tongue licking from your core up to your clit.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-" you cry and grab the sheets under you, bucking up into his touch. Steve chuckles and gets behind you on the bed. "He looks like he's in heaven, Sweets. He has wanted you for so long." You feel his fingers undo the clasp of your bra and then slide it off. His hands cup your tits a second later, making more sounds spill out of your mouth. His fingers rub, caress, and pull on your nipples while Bucky is hurdling you toward your climax.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Your legs shake and you grab Steve's arm with one hand, the other going to Bucky's head, grabbing his short hair. Every muscle in your body tenses right before the coil snaps, making you scream out your release, riding Bucky's face and feeling the pleasure-filled waves travel through your body.

You slump against Steve's and he holds you. Bucky pulls back with a shit-eating grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand, saying "Fuck Sweets," before he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

You already feel amazing, high off your orgasm but you want more and Steve's hard-on is pressing into your back. You turn around on the bed. "Move up," you tell him and his smirk is knowing but he does as you say and moves to sit against the headboard.

You rid yourself of your drenched panties before grabbing his boxers and pulling them off. "Eager Sweets?" he chuckles and fists his cock as soon as it's free. It's thick and long as him and you can't fucking wait. You bite your lip before asking "Condom?"

"I know we should but I want to feel you raw Sweets,” he confesses. “Are you on birth control?" "Sure, and I got tested the week after…" you trail off not wanting the bad memories to ruin the moment. Bucky's heat is suddenly behind you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back to kiss you deeply. When he lets go he says, "Steve and I got tested like a week before you moved in and I've not even looked another person's way since then." Steve laughs "And I haven't fucked anyone either so get over here and ride my cock Sweets."

To say you scramble is an accurate description, quickly shuffling over to him and straddling his hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he swipes the head of his cock through your mess, holding it still for you to sink down on.

All three of you moan in unison as his dick disappears into your tight hot channel. The grip Steve has on your hips is almost bruising and the look on his face is painful. “F-fuck. Sweets. Damn.” Is all he gets out. You lean in, kissing his cheeks and chin and lips, and start to move, slowly, the feeling is amazing, he's filling you up to the brim perfectly.

"Feels so good," you stutter and then drop down hard. "I'm never watching porn again," Bucky says from behind you and you watch him over your shoulder, kneeling on the bed and jerking his cock. You whine in the back of your throat, you want him too, so you reach for him as you bounce on Steve's cock, making him spill the most delicious sounds.

Bucky shuffles over and you grab his dick in your hand, he's big enough that it doesn't fit all the way around. His hand lands on Steve's shoulder to steady himself and Steve reaches out to place a hand on his hip.

The sounds the three of you make fill the room. It's moans, groans, and whimpers, the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness. Your clit is steadily rubbing against Steve, getting you closer and closer. Bucky is panting heavily, Steve is too.

"Sweets, I can feel you. Are you gonna come on my cock?" Steve is trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably, but he continues to spill filth that rushes you toward the edge. "When I've filled you up, Bucky is gonna fuck my cum right back into you, aren't you Buck?" "Fuck yes," he groans before leaning in and kissing you deeply. “I wanna see you come on his cock Sweets.”

"Next time I wanna feel both of you come in me at the same time," you whimper. "Sweets, you goddamn slut." Steve groans with a laugh and bucks up into you harder. "Tell us more! Please! I want to hear every filthy little thought hidden inside that mind."

You turn to look at Bucky. "I want both of you in every hole. I want you to use me like I'm a toy and worship me like a queen," you tell him, then turn to Steve. "Put my name on the house and celebrate it by fucking in every room, on every surface, show me all of your kinks, give me everything."

Steve's eyes are screwed shut and he's let go of Bucky to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his big cock. "Keep going," you urge him, your release just a few thrusts away. But he's too close and before you can get there he suddenly sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest, thrusting up hard, and comes with a loud moan of your name.

You feel wild, right on the edge of ecstasy but left dangling in mid-air. With pleading eyes and a whine you look at Bucky who smirks at you before pulling you away from Steve and laying you on your back. A second later he fills you up, the sound of his cock pushing through Steve's mess is as sweet as it's nasty.

"Please, Bucky, please," you beg. "Yeah I know, don't worry, not gonna blow my load early," he taunts over his shoulder at Steve who just gives him the finger. "Understand him though, you’re so tight and warm Sweets. Makes me a bit crazy. I just want to fill you up over and over again," he confesses.

"I need to-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Rub your clit for me. Come on my cock," he demands but you know something that is even better than your own fingers and you reach out your arm.

"Steve," you plead and he crawls over to you and lays down beside you, pushing his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit. You arch off the bed with his touch, hands clutching Bucky's arms as he rams into you. The dual sensation is amazing and with how close you were seconds ago the end approaches quickly. Your moans get louder the closer you get and both Bucky and Steve praise you the whole way through.

"You sound so fucking pretty."

"I can barely move you gripping me so tight."

"You're so good at taking cock, Sweets. First mine and now Bucky's, it's like you were made for us."

You nod at the last thing and the pressure in your body is breaking, making your muscles convulse, almost pushing Bucky out with how hard you're coming, screaming their names as you do.

"Fuck! Yes, Sweets!" Bucky’s laugh is a little manic as he works you through it. "I'm going to fill our sweet little cunt with more cum." His hips stutter against you before he groans out your name and collapses on top of you. You run your fingers over his sweaty back and kiss his cheek. Then you turn to Steve, smiling at him beside you. "He's heavy," you complain.

Both of them laugh and Bucky rolls off before they move until you're squeezed in between them, their cum running down your legs, making a mess on the bed. Fortunately, you have at least two other beds to sleep in.

For a few months, you're walking on air. In a throuple with your two best friends, amazing sex, luxury beyond what you could have ever imagined. They constantly spoil you and they've tried to convince you to quit your job since you don't need to work when you're with them.

Tonight you're in another fancy restaurant. Bucky is trying to feed you chocolate cake because it's romantic but you tell him over and over again that you can eat by yourself. Suddenly Steve stiffens beside you and since he isn't known to have tells, you immediately get worried and follow his gaze.

John is standing at the door with a pretty girl on his arm, talking to the waiter and then being shown to a table. Next to yours.

When your eyes meet he stops for a second and his date shoots confused looks between the two of you, before you nod and he nods back, then moves again and sits down.

Steve asks for the check and you're out of your seat and outside the restaurant in no time. Bucky holds your coat as you put it on and a moment later Steve comes out too. His eyes are black with hate and when you're finally in the car you realize that you can't live like this.

"I think-" you begin, swallowing then clearing your throat, "I think I'm going to need those lawyers."

[radiant-reid]

Reunion

Summary: JJ never knew you were dating one of her teammates and that you broke up because of her, but seeing him at JJ's wedding years later changes things.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst then smutttt)

Content Warning: 18+ Smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of a breeding kink)

Word Count: 2.1k

"So, how's mystery boy?"

After skipping your usual Tuesday night plans twice, thanks to JJ being away on cases, you're finally back in your best friend's living room having a glass of wine and a cheese platter.

It's been an abnormal amount of time to go without seeing each other since you both ended up in DC after moving out of East Allegheny to different colleges. Even with men in the mix now, you both make it a priority to see each other as often as possible. However, her busy schedule and frequent flights to New Orleans have meant you've spent some time apart.

Unknown to her, she knows the so-called mystery boy. Very well, in fact. "He's well." You say slyly, unable not to grin widely.

JJ throws her head back dramatically. "Come on, Y/n! Some detail would be nice."

"It's good." You try again. "He's the sweetest. I'm very happy."

She smirks, letting you know an interesting question is coming your way. "How's the sex?"

It never takes more than a glass of wine for her to be that loose. You don't miss a beat in your answer. "Fabulous."

"Okay, so can I meet him soon?" She pushes like she has been for quite some time.

You wonder what she would think. What would her expression do if you were to say his name out loud right here? Maybe it's not that deep but getting with JJ's closest colleague is dangerous. It was a concern at the start, a reason not to start, but you fell in love with Spencer Reid quicker than you could ever imagine.

"Sure, JJ." You agree, trying to look positively about it. You can only assume she's thinking about the worst possible scenario about your mystery man. He's a criminal or he's far too old for you or he's an ex you promised not to get back with. There are too many options.

She looks triumphant. "Yes!"

You just smile, sending the conversation in a different direction by asking about her boyfriend. He sounds like a great guy and you can tell she's happier than ever before.

Three months ago you met Spencer Reid. It was JJ's birthday and your duty as her best friend to throw her a fun surprise party. That took some coordination with a friend from work. Firstly, that was Penelope, but in order to lure JJ, you needed Spencer Reid. He was a little slow with replying to your texts, but lovely. And after you met him, you were hooked.

Spencer was perfect. Gorgeous, funny, intelligent. His incredible shyness had you confused when he asked you out for dinner the next morning.

Too many espresso martinis provide an explanation for why JJ has no recollection of you flirting with him all night.

You see Spencer as much as you can, but similar to JJ's, his schedule often doesn't allow for consistent visits. So whatever time you do have, you make the most of it. He's still the most amazing boyfriend you've had. Kind, caring, witty, fun, and playful.

He gets whisked away on a case to Miami not long after being home. You didn't know things would be so different the next time you saw him.

He goes quiet on you. You know their cases are intense but you haven't heard from him in an entire week and that's not right.

Can I come over? He finally texts you and you're guessing he's back in DC.

It sounds a little ominous and the message sends a chill down your spine. Sure. I can't wait to see you. There isn't a reply and you sit in limbo in your apartment for almost an hour before he knocks at the door.

You smile when you open it, although you're slightly annoyed there was zero communication or ETA from him. "Hey, Spence, how was it?"

"You knew." He says in a cold, accusatory tone. It's nothing you've ever heard from him.

"Sorry?" You repeat, moving to the side so he can come into your apartment.

He steps in, barely looking at you. "About JJ and Will." He explains.

A little frown takes over your expression. Surely he's not angry that he only just found out. An awkward laugh leaves your lips. "Sorry, Spence. She didn't want anyone knowing."

"I'm your boyfriend!" He exclaims. "You're not supposed to lie to me."

"I didn't." You join the offensive, crossing your arms. You're not enthused about what he's accusing you of. It wasn't even your secret to tell him.

He looks disappointed, face dropping. "Come on." He sighs. "How am I meant to be with you if you don't trust me enough to tell me who our friend is dating?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell." You try to talk some reason into him, pushing down that sick feeling in your stomach telling you that he's breaking up with you.

Spencer shakes his head, his decision- as much as it's killing him- completely made. "I can't do this."

His words make your world come crashing down and you almost can't believe it. You slump to the couch while he makes his way to the door with sad, slow footsteps.

He's looking at you, waiting for you to ask him to say. "Can we not tell JJ?" You ask softly.

"Fine." That's the last thing he tells you before walking out the door, shutting it firmly.

That's it.

The last thing Spencer tells you.

Then he's gone from your life. You talk about him less to JJ and she picks up on what happened and stops asking about him.

You expect to see him when Henry's born, or even at a point in his life. Somehow, you don't. Your schedules never line up and then JJ switches jobs. There's a myriad of reasons but it doesn't happen. You both go on with separate lives.

And then JJ and Will are getting married. You get a frantic call from your best friend's soon-to-be-husband who whispers secret plans to you over the phone. It's perfect, you know JJ will adore the simplicity and elegance of a backyard wedding.

You're there as soon as you can be, helping set up Rossi's backyard so it's gorgeous for the most gorgeous person you know.

You're the maid of honor, of sorts. And you don't get a chance to ask who the best man is before JJ arrives and the ceremony begins.

You strike out as soon as you spot a tall brunette. A tall brunette who made you the happiest you've ever been with a man. And he's still just as handsome.

His eyes bulge when he sees you but he keeps a straight face and clenches his teeth while the ceremony continues. You're mostly focused on how beautiful JJ looks and how sweet their wedding is, but you can't help your mind drifting to Spencer.

You hadn't seen him dressed up like this when you were dating and the tuxedo is a perfect look on him.

"Y/n." He comes up to you when you're getting yourself a glass of champagne.

"Spencer." You reply. His tone doesn't let much about how he's feeling on. All you get is a glimmer of shock.

He stands against the table. "Maid of honor?"

You shrug, a little confused at his question. "You know, I'm surprised I haven't seen you all these years." You admit, letting some honesty slip.

"It was slightly intentional." He offers.

You don't let it offend you. "Best man?"

"I think that means we're supposed to sleep together."

You nearly spit out your sip of wine. There's no way the shy Spencer Reid you once knew just said that.

"We've done that." You reply, trying to keep a straight face after the out-of-pocket comment.

Spencer tilts his head to the side. "You're right."

You really don't know how it happens. Maybe it's a few too many drinks. There's definitely not enough alcohol in your bloodstream to solely blame that. Spencer Reid is as hot as they get. And it's been... longer than you're willing to admit since you've had sex. Even longer since it was good sex.

So there isn't anything telling you to stop when Spencer pushes you up against the door of a room in Rossi's house, lips firmly against yours.

Your dress is hiked up around your waist while his fingers trace up and down your thigh before he even thinks about locking the door. Both of you are far too wrapped up in the moment to think securely.

His hands are quick to the zip of your dress, sliding it down effortlessly and letting it pool at your feet. He takes a moment to look at you and you have to admit, you're a little worried about his reaction. You don't doubt Spencer Reid can pull beautiful women.

"God, you're gorgeous." He says softly, juxtaposing the way he's practically clawing your clothes off you.

"Are you going to compliment me or fuck me like you promised you would?" You ask him, waltzing over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Spencer smirks at your smart mouth. "You asked for it."

He's kneeling on the floor in front of the bed in seconds, with no regard for his suit pants being wrinkled, just on his knees. There's a sense of urgency that doesn't allow for the time for him to take your panties off so he opts for shifting them to the side.

There's also no time to waste as his tongue melds with your folds, tracing patterns. No one has ever come close to giving head like Spencer does. It's truly mindblowing, the pressure of his tongue and the suction method he uses. You're instantly in bliss, head thrown back against the covers as you moan.

You've lost it when his fingers enter you, pushing past with little resistance. "Holy shit, Spencer. You're incredible."

"Sing my praises." He says against your pussy.

You do. Not even possessing the ability to be embarrassed about it.

And you don't stop. You're withering and moaning on the bed, tugging his curls while he continues pleasing you. Eventually, it's too much. His fingers pumping in and out of you combined with his tongue wrapped around your clit have you finishing in no time.

"Still as good as I remember." As if he couldn't get any hotter, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Spencer rises from his knees, now much taller than you. You tug your underwear off before unclipping your bra. "Fuck me, Spencer." You reach out for his belt buckle, toying with it. "Please."

Spencer has lost the shy, timid nature he had the first few times you had sex and he quickly takes off his belt and pants. Once his suit jacket is tossed across the room, Spencer pulls your legs to the end of the bed, making sure you wrap your ankles around his waist. His hands rest on either side of your head and you're precisely where you want to be.

"You're so hot." You tell him with a smirk.

He grins, spreading your legs and inching inside you. The look on his face is an instant confidence boost. Clearly, he's a man in bliss, head thrown back and tongue parting his lips.

"Fuck." He pants.

You agree, barely able to speak from how hard he's pounding you and how good it feels. Although it's annoying to admit, you've never had as good sex as with Spencer.

Your hands wrap around his forearms, noticeably bigger than last time. "Spencer." You moan. "Please. So good."

He caresses your chest, paying attention to your boobs like he hadn't before. "Y/n." He groans, not slowing his pace up. His hips snap against yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. "Can I?" He asks.

It's unlike you to have even let him start without protection but you're not thinking straight enough. All you know is you need Spencer. "Please."

He finishes as deep inside you as he can get, leaning down to kiss you softly. You're breathless like he is when he flops down next to you.

One of Spencer's palms touches your cheek, forcing you to look at him rather than the ceiling. "Hey, pretty girl." He says softly and it makes your heart flip in a way it shouldn't. "Can I take you on a date, Y/n?"

The smile creeping onto your face can't be helped. "Yes. Please."

[fictionalsweethearts]

DOMESTIC!SEVIKA HEADCANONS

Let's agree that Sevika doesn't spend much time at home, as she has to attend to business matters all day and night, and she spends her breaks at the betting shops or in some seedy pub where she feeds her fondness (perhaps addiction) to gambling.

However, Sevika must live in the vicinity of the centre of Zaun where she works. Probably in some austere apartment with one bathroom and a narrow kitchen (not that she uses it much either).

She tends to leave the terrace open to air out the smell of tobacco, already permeating the curtains and the carpet.

Her room is at the end of the hallway, it is not very big but it is comfortable, and its window faces the same avenue. At night, the neon color of the signs enters and draws silhouettes on the double bed, which is provided with a wine-colored bedspread and brown pillows. The dresser is usually tidy, and most of Sevika's clothes hang from the coat rack, including her poncho. There is an ashtray on the nightstand, a stained glass lamp, somewhat blackened by tobacco smoke, and in the drawer another pack of cigarettes and a Shimmer dial (which she has needed to use more frequently, being forced to work with only two hours of sleep in her body.).

Sevika is pragmatic, not much for keeping knickknacks or ornaments, however she keeps a deck of cards that her old man had given her a few decades ago, on her fourteenth birthday.

The apartment is quiet, Sevika appreciates the silence after dealing with noises of all kinds on a daily basis.

Since she doesn't spend much time at home, she doesn't tend to clean the apartment very often. She keeps the essentials clean, that is, the bathroom and her room, but the kitchen sink usually has unwashed glasses and cups and there is a thin layer of dust on the coffee table. It doesn't bother her much.

The bathroom is as austere as the rest of the apartment, with a shower and toilet, a mirror that says good morning and she answers with a "what a haggard bitch." There is a small first aid kit under the sink, next to a toolbox that allows her to repair her prosthetic arm. In the upper compartment, there is a woody perfume that she puts on her neck and on the fabric of her poncho.

She usually leaves the mechanical arm on top of the dresser before going to sleep, being the first thing she reaches for in the morning, of course, after her morning cigarette.

Sevika's breakfast: a black coffee and a cigarette. If the day promises to be unbearable, she adds a shot of whiskey to her coffee. Sometimes she buys a fruit at the market.

Sevika is not an avid cook, she does it when necessary, as she usually has almost all her meals at the Last Drop or a market stall. She usually feeds herself with whatever she can throw into the pot, adding spices, wine and water.

Her signature dish is beef stew with wine (she drinks the wine while she cooks).

Of course, she has a liquor cabinet in her living room. She usually keeps it filled with bottles of bourbon, red wine, and other stronger herbal liquors.

She's not a morning person, her first sounds in the morning are usually grunts and monosyllables, until her breakfast cigarette and a shower improves her mood (a little).

Sevika is good at math. Not just because of her gambling hobby, but because of taking care of Silco's collections and other deals involving transactions, negotiations and money. She usually keeps an accounting book in her closet, which she has to take a look on more than once when the numbers don't add up (perfectionism at its finest).

Sevika takes great care of her dental health. She appreciates clean teeth and keeps mints or candy handy to keep her breath fresh (so she can kiss her girls better).

When she's in the mood and the night allows it, she likes to take a bubble bath at home. She accompanies it with a cigarette and a nice glass of whiskey.

Yes, she has fallen asleep in said bath more than once (she is an exhausted woman, don't be mean).

Sevika usually keeps the lights low, preferring darkness.

She wears comfortable clothes at home like tank tops and sweatpants, but avoids going barefoot.

Her home may look unkempt, but she knows where everything is. If something moves without her permission, she'll notice.

She avoids having pets, as they seem like an unnecessary responsibility to add to her life. But if a stray cat wanders around her home, she leaves leftovers by the window.

She likes to plays a game of solitaire when she's free (rarely).

Sevika has nightmares. No matter how much rest she tries to get, her brain replays past mistakes or portrays possible tragedies that she is unable to stop.

She doesn't like wall clocks or alarm clocks, but she always knows the time (let's call it a busy butch superpower).

In the mornings she takes cold showers.

She doesn't tend to look at herself in the mirror for long. While she maintains her self-esteem, she is not vain by any means. She also avoids paying too much attention to her missing arm, as her mind wanders to unpleasant places.

She has a little training corner in her apartment, where she spends part of her time maintaining her body strong and fit.

Yes, she smokes between sets.

In the privacy of her room, Sevika sometimes resorts to self-pleasure to relax. Her hand and a good imagination are more than enough.

DOMESTIC!SEVIKA & PARTNER

If she has a girlfriend, inviting her over is the ultimate proof that she trusts her. No one who doesn't deserve it enters her safe space.

Her nightmares are reduced if she sleeps with her, and she often pulls her close during the night and buries her nose in her hair.

She doesn't say good morning, preferring to stare at her partner in silence until she wakes up.

She makes sure she's comfortable. She may seem disinterested, but she's bought shampoo and conditioner for her, always keeps the bed clean and the air fresh when she invites her to stay the night, and often cooks something more elaborate for dinner.

Sevika avoids smoking in her presence if she doesn't smoke, so she goes out onto the balcony several times.

She likes comfortable silences, sharing a cigarette or each minding their own business without having to start unnecessary conversations.

She is good at listening and providing advice with effective solutions. She usually sits on the couch and gives her girlfriend all the time she needs to vent.

She's not good at comforting, but she tries.

She is very receptive. It is a matter of noticing a change in her girlfriend's mood or reading her expression to know that something is going on.

If she falls asleep on the couch, Sevika takes her to her bed, if she cuts herself while cooking, Sevika, instead of worrying, simply bandages her hand. She's practical.

She really enjoys her girlfriend's company even if she doesn't say it. She looks at her, sits close to her or brushes her waist or her butt with her hand if she passes by her.

If her partner is away for a long time, Sevika gets worried. She express it with a simple "you took long" when she arrives.

Her way of asking her partner to stay the night is to simply say, "If you're sleepy, the bed is clean."

When Sevika has her partner over, she makes sure to reduce the smell of tobacco with air fresheners she bought at the market. She sprays the whole apartment and walks around sniffing to make sure it's not obvious that she smokes a pack a day.

She likes to cook if she has her over, she usually prepares more elaborate meals and uncorks her best liquor.

Sevika snores. Years of smoking, sleepless nights and punches in the nose have taken their toll on her and she snores like a truck.

When her bed partner chides her for it, she simply raises her eyebrows and asks, "Do I really snore?" (She will never admit that she snores).

[whateverloomis]

🖤 Dilf!Billy Loomis x Dilf!Stu Macher x AFAB reader (Stepcest)

Here it is cuties, part two (part one) <33 The thirst for dilf!Billy and Stu is intense with this one. Hope y'all enjoy ;)

Important: The image of the dress is only to show what I described in the fic. It's not intended to set a specific body type for the reader.

Tag list: @toxicanonymity @lyl1pad @elmoispookie

Warnings: Stepfather!Billy Loomis, age gap (middle aged Billy and Stu. Reader in their 20s,) AFAB reader (they/them used,) predetermined outfit, cheating, alcohol consumption, weed use, fingering, p in v, oral (both receiving, masturbation, rough sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of teasing, revised: January'25

Word count: 2.1k

After two weeks of nearly getting caught fucking your stepfather on your mothers bed you thought it would serve as a lesson and it totally wasn't.

You hadn’t gotten the chance to have sex with Billy again but that didn’t stop you from brushing your hand over his crotch whenever you walked past him, and it sure didn’t stop him from hugging you from behind and giving your tits a few squeezes while you cooked before your mother walked in the kitchen. Also, why would you waste an opportunity to makeout with him on the couch during movie night while your mother was in the bathroom? You were playing with fire. Getting caught was a stone's throw away but neither of you cared..

The third week after your little adventure you found yourself annoyed as you set up the whole house for a work party your mother was hosting. It was her boss's birthday and since she’s the manager and employee with the biggest house it was basically a default that most activities happened at your place.

That’s also how you met Stu Macher…

It was around the time Billy and your mother started living together. There was a small get together out by the pool and you were inside serving yourself a much needed glass of wine. As you poured the drink Stu walked in to get himself a beer from the mini fridge.

You made brief eye contact with the man and didn’t make much of it until he walked over to the kitchen counter to grab a red solo cup.

“Aren’t you too young to be drinking?” he asked you jokingly, but you could tell it was more than a casual comment.

“I’m legal if that’s what you’re asking” you answered, sassy as ever.

Stu found your little attitude amusing and held the conversation a bit longer than intended.

“You’re a feisty one, huh?” he countered and chuckled.

You couldn’t help but smirk. The dimple that his smile revealed, his natural flirtiness and his goddamn height was a mixture that excited and peaked your interest.

“And that seems to interest you” you continued and he leaned against the counter.

“You caught me there” Stu said and took a swing of his beer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be outside with your work buddies?” you asked before taking a sip of your wine. The cool and tart taste soothed your body.

“To be honest with you, I’d rather be at my house but y’know, gotta pretend that I like these people to keep a good appearance at work” he answered and you nodded.

“Cheers to that” you said and clicked your glass with his beer bottle.

“You wanna get out of here?” Stu asked jokingly and hell, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he was dead serious about it.

“Why would I leave with a stranger?” you flirted and he smiled wide, those goddamn dimples on full display again.

“It’s Stu. Stu Macher” he said and looked out to the backyard as someone calling him.

“See you around, Stu” you closed the conversation and walked past him towards your room.

The man stared as you walked all the way to the hallway, raking his eyes all over your body. He would’ve taken you right then and there had it been another situation, and you sure as hell would’ve given in without hesitating. You even had a wet dream that same night about him fucking you on top of that kitchen counter…

As you arranged the bottles of liquor on that same counter, you remembered that moment and bit your lip at the memory. You even got wet at the thought and it enhanced as you felt Billy wrap his strong arms around your middle.

“I better not catch you drinking any of that tonight” he whispered in your ear and you pressed your ass against his crotch.

“Why? Am I getting in trouble if I do, Daddy?” you asked innocently and the man hissed.

“You’re getting fucked tonight if you keep teasing me like this” Billy replied while squeezing your waist.

“Can’t wait” you said and pushed your back against his chest, enough to move him and give you space to escape his grasp and walk to the backyard.

•

It was 11pm and everyone was tipsy enough to talk freely and be loud. You would be cooped up in your room having a solo smoking sesh if you didn't have entertainment. Two men to play around with. Billy and Stu, to be exact.

You decided to wear something provocative enough to get both of their attention throughout the night. A silk, olive green dress with thin straps and lower back cut.

You decided to go braless as well, your buds visible in an almost classy way. Underwear was out of the question too, easy access was your fun little secret. Even if you didn't get your way with any of the men of interest, at least you could fuck yourself with your favorite toy without the hassle of taking your clothes off.

Outside, you were leaning against the rail of the porch, just enough for your dress to hike up below your ass cheeks. A glass of wine in one hand and a vape in the other. You had a nice buzz coursing through your body and the cool air felt like a wave washing over you.

“Mind if I join?”

Behind you Stu was standing closer than expected. His button shirt had the sleeves rolled up and you couldn't help but look at his strong arms.

“Not at all” you answered, voice soft and inviting.

The man smirked and stood next to you; “Nicotine?” he asked, pointing at your vape.

You chuckled and shook your head no, “Weed. Want a hit?” you offered, which you rarely did but this was a special occasion.

“Sure,” he answered and took a hit from the device, releasing the smoke slowly.

You bit your lip at the sight, it looked hotter than it should've and you were already starting to grow wet between your legs. His proximity was enough to do so, but that sight really did it for you.

Little did you know, Billy was observing you from inside the house pretending to be involved in a conversation between 3 people. You caught his eyes and thought it would be fun to get him a little jealous and rile him up a bit.

As you made small talk with Stu, you got touchy with him on purpose as well as purposely bubbly and flirty, giggling and laughing loud enough for Billy to hear.

“You have the cutest laugh” Stu pointed out and you blushed, covering your mouth while you gasped, hitting his arm playfully.

“Having a good time?” Billy approached Stu and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing tightly.

Stu glared at him subtly before catching your stare. Both men were scanning your body, looking from head to toe shamelessly.

“A great time now that you joined us,” you said boldly and he chuckled.

Stu took note of your flirtiness, confirming what Billy shared about you two earlier that night…

“Wait, on your wife's bed?” Stu asked, laughing. Definitely interested in the whole situation.

“Yeah, that little cunt is to die for. Nearly ended up knocking them up.” Billy continued, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Damn, I'd do anything to get a piece of that.” Stu said while staring at you from a distance. Billy enjoyed the view as well and he definitely had to fuck you that night or else he'd go insane.

“We could tag team for sure. A little more alcohol and weed will do the trick.” Billy confirmed and the men were both set on fucking your brains out…

Which is exactly what happened.

You don't know how you ended up in your room with your stepfather and his best friend, but there you were, on your bed straddling Billy's lap, making out furiously while he groped your ass.

Stu was sitting on your office chair enjoying the view of your now hiked up dress. Booty on full display for him.

You moaned into Billy's mouth as you started to grind against his clothes cock, desperate to have him inside you.

“Fuck, you look so good for us.” Stu said while unbuttoning his jeans, his hard cock finally being released from being trapped in his pants. Of course he didn't wear underwear.

You shook your ass to tease him and Billy spanked you. A warning from his part.

“You save that little attitude for me” he said and you smirked, loving how possessive your stepdad behaved with you.

“I was just playing around, Daddy” you teased further and he pushed you off his lap, pinning you against the bed, his large hand reaching between your legs.

Billy used his middle and ring finger to rub your clit in circular motions. Ring finger decorated with its rightful marriage ring, of course. A sinful display.

He collected your slick from your entrance, dipping his fingers just enough before sliding them back up to your clit.

You were sensitive at the start of the night, but after the alcohol, weed, the teasing… fuck, you could cum just by Billy rubbing your most sensitive spot between your legs. He was borderline torturing you with his slow, methodical movements between your legs.

You ended up grinding against his fingers, trying to feel them deeper inside you but the man wasn't going to please you. No. He needed you to be desperate for him, and that you were.

Finally breaking, you grabbed Billy's hand and pushed his fingers inside you. The long, pathetic, whiny moan you released made both Billy and Stus cocks twitch. Your cute noises affected them the same way and that did it for the man above you. He turned you around and unbuckled his belt quickly, followed by the zipper. He didn't bother to lower his pants much and released his cock enough to bury himself inside your cunt. You were soaked and the stretch felt incredibly good, especially when he bottomed out.

Thank Gods he positioned you on all fours because Stu was right in front of you. He was pumping his cock at the same speed Billy thrust inside you. He imagined how good your cunt must feel around his 8 incher, and you shared the same thought.

“You're such a slut” Billy grunted and pushed your head against the mattress, “Fucking your stepfather again and letting his friend join?” he continued and this time he pulled your hair back, your head facing forward to meet Stus gaze once again, “Pathetic” Billy finished and you bit your lip before sticking your tongue out for Stu. You needed to feel him inside you too and the man understood your message clearly. He walked towards you, cock in hand and rested the tip on your tongue. You purposely drooled and felt him harden further at the sight. You knew exactly what you were doing and he did too.

In a second Stu slid his cock inside your mouth and thrust in unison with Billy. You were stuffed and it felt incredible from both ends. Your eyes rolled back on their own as you felt your orgasm building. You needed to cum and that night you sure as hell didn't want Billy to pull out, so you made sure you squeezed him good when you came.

Reaching under your pillow, you pulled out the vibrator you were using the night prior and placed it on your clit, hitting the perfect spot and combining both pleasure points. The way you squeezed Billy's cock while you were reaching your high made it impossible for him to hold back.

“Fuck baby, keep that up and I'll fill you up real good,” Billy moaned and you whined around Stus cock. The vibration of your voice nearly pushing him over the edge.

After a few more minutes you came around your stepfather's cock, moaning around Stus cock again as he came inside your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the rest dripping all over your bed.

Finally, Billy came and he didn't care about pulling out, much to your liking. He thrust hard enough for the skin on skin contact to echo around the room as he filled you up with his seed, both of you moaning and groaning non stop.

When he pulled out his cum dripped out of your cunt and he spread your thighs to get a good look, chuckling at the sight

•

“You're leaving?” You asked Stu, pouting.

“My wife is waiting for me, don't wanna get home too late.” He said while buckling his belt.

When the man looked up, Billy was crawling between your legs ready to clean his mess with his skilled tongue. Stu chuckled while fixing his hair with his large hands.

“Don't have too much fun without me” he said.

“Get out” Billy said, half serious, half playful before licking a stripe along your slit.

Stu was already getting hard and had to hide his half boner before walking out of your room.