#i call this 4k words of denial

[janumun]

Painted Red (LaDS Sylus - NSFW ABCs Headcanon]

Rated: NSFW/18+

Words: ~4k

Tags: oral, vaginal and anal sex, usage of toys, fingering, enemies to lovers dynamic/passing usage of guns, bondage, semi-public sex, improper use of Evol, switching power roles, dirty talk, masturbation, mirrors, orgasm denial, praise kink

Author’s Notes: A little treat to myself right before Sylus’ release. Please take careful note of those tags and content warnings before you proceed.

I hope you enjoy your read as much I enjoyed myself writing this!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)   

With the state of indecent disarray one usually ends up in —  quivering, drenched thighs, nerveless arms useless by your sides, a flushed face and an inability to catch your breath — after a single night spent in Sylus’ bed, aftercare is a necessity post-coitus. And fortunately, the man, damn him, knows and understands so, very well.  

And so, he has a pitcher of cold water, prepared well beforehand — even on days your dalliances are not what the two of you intend when you meet — ready and at your disposal by the bedside.  

The moment he pulls out of you, another short one spared to ensure you are still there, with him and well, he’s moving off of you. A clean robe he throws on, loose, over his body before striding over to the nightstand to pour you a glass.  

A cool, pleasant palm he eases against the back of your head to raise, as he encourages you take those big, long gulps of fluid to quench your thirst and replenish your energies. “There you go, well done,” his low baritone settling deep within your belly, your core instinctively clenching in on emptiness to hear his unexpected praise for something so very mundane.  

Truly, you do not know what this man is doing to your body and mind.  

Extra 

Sylus slides into bed with you for the remainder of your night and tucks close under the covers, for your much needed repose.  

Morning afters, you greet with a fresh shower (and on days you insist, with him), a pair of clean towels and a pressed outfit, ready for you to change into and later settle in for a healthy, fulfilling breakfast, whipped up to perfection by his personal chef. All of his house-staff, professional, discrete and well-versed in handling affairs of the Onychinus scion’s household. Whatever the two of you share within the confines of your privacy — animosities or amourous rendezvous —  remains entombed, within that very space.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)   

Sylus takes pride within his dexterity, particularly that of his limbs (...particularly that of his hands, his fingers when it comes to matters of the bedroom).  

One would hardly expect a man of his body stature to possess the nimble flexibility that resides compacted within his body. An erroneous judgment that often proves fatal to foolish foes within a fight.  

And with you, he puts that lethal agility to use: within the push of thick digits up into your clenching walls, the roughened pads of them swiftly seeking and pressing up against the spot at your frontal walls that makes you wail, makes you twist. Makes that body of yours gush against his insistent palm in an orgasm vehement enough, you see dark blanket across your eyes for the scarcity of mere seconds. Truly bringing upon you, as they call it, la petite mort. A tiny death.  

Sylus is extremely fond of your face. It’s not because of the way you look, a mere pretty face in the crowd he would simply gloss over; it’s the striking catch of your facial tells that steal his gaze and keep it captive.  

The wary intensity of your eyes the first time you laid eyes on him. 

Or the way your brow knit in firm concentration when you had him tossed to the ground, once. Nearly taking him by something almost akin to surprise, the weight of your gun, incessant, against his chest. Your mouth turning sour in restless irritation when he dared try tease at your sensibilities, a harsh knee you plunged deeper into his torso.  

The quick work of your mind — a testament of its well-endowed intellect and wit, a Hunter of good repute —  channeling brilliance in crisp words uttered from rouged lips, when the two of you, on one certain occasion, found yourselves in a particularly dire situation. One you’d agreed to accompany him to, undercover, as an associate of the Onychinus’ head.   

Truly, he has been snared with your fascinating mien since the day he laid his eyes upon you, your expressions spinning — amusing — as if placed upon a carousel, the longer he spends in your company.  

And from there on, is born a desire to witness even more.  

When you drive him back into the covers with the force of your wet kiss, parting untimely before he has the proper chance to put his tongue into your mouth and taste for himself (there will be further opportunities, he holds himself). 

The way that well-coveted, devious tongue sweeps a slow path against your upper lip —just out of reach — edge to edge. The harsh dash of red, high across your cheeks, the intensity of your breaths, untamed as his. And those beautiful eyes, a riotous mix of vexation and desire so incinerating, it turns Sylus’s cock to unbearably hard stone beneath the cleft of your ass, he bucks up against you just to see that wheeling carousel within your gaze, shift forms for him, watch that mouth swear at the exhilarating stimulation of your combined symphony, he knows, you too feel. Just for him alone.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)  

Sylus enjoys the slick feeling of your skin stained by his cum; that exact moment he pulls out of your quivering walls to release himself in thick spurts down the length of your folds. Slips the head of his cock against the smears of his release, before pushing back, slow, once more into your depths.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  

There is no secrecy or shame involved with a man in possession of as poised a self-assurance as Sylus; his sexual tendencies he not only owns up to and understands but has no qualms about elucidating his wants in great... obscene detail, to his partner, you.  

He wants you to be knowing exactly what it is you are doing to arouse him and exactly how to get him up to that stage.  

His palms curving about your thighs, scaffoldings of heated flesh that climb up and slink slow beneath the cut of your dress. Covetous fingers that trace delicate patterns against the lining of your panties and yet you quiver underneath that feather touch alone. ��Such fine lace.” Garnet gaze, sharp, as it meets yours within the tight, much too confined space of his car. 

The chauffeur in front, separated a mere layer away from the two of you as Sylus wrenches you onto his spread lap, the firm muscle of his thighs unyielding beneath as they shift, subtle, to press you deeper against a broad chest.  

Index and middle scouring a hot, glancing path against your clothed slit before withdrawing, leaving you to scramble for purchase against the fine pressed collar of his shirt, creasing it within your hold.  

Your question snipped short with the soft, soughing whisper at your ear, voicing his true intentions. “I’d very much like a memento, to remember our evening by. Your panties...” Devious fingers pinching at the apex of your heat. “They will do well, sweetheart.” 

A moan tumbles past your lips before you can smother the sound —   you break it against the sweep of his mouth, welcoming —  at such a scandalous request, bold, without a lick of remorse. Just as the man himself.  

“I trust you will help me then, yes?” A long, tapered finger, pressing above underwear, right at your slit. Course thumb leisurely stroking its fire against that tight bead of pleasure. A rumbled groan he breaks free against your ear to feel the wanton slick of your arousal, soaking right through fabric. “That’s right, drench them well. I want your fragrance long on my gift, even after your departure.”  

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)  

Sylus has been out and about. He isn’t capricious enough to have changed sexual partners as frequently as the rumors around Zone N109 might paint him to have, but he is certainly no stranger to sex.  

His preference before you, usually having been for casual, short-lived, discrete dalliances, to indulge in bodily pleasures and no more beyond. With a man as committed to his goals as Sylus is, with a clear concept of how he wishes to manipulate the underworld to his liking, he does not spare much attention to subsidiary gratifications. 

With people at large, he is apathetic to that which does not catch his interest. There is very few within this world that truly does.  

And you, now, stand among those rare few treasures that have all of his attentions arrested. 

He finds himself wanting to captivate you, in turn, not just in body but mind. Truly, he finds you a fascinating being.  

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)  

Seated within his lap, cock nestled warm within clenching depths. 

Hair, a spread of wild locks across the coverlet, mirroring the writhing state of your sweat-drenched body underneath his, as he thrusts into you. 

Hungering fingers clawing at the expanse of his chest, down the strength of his shoulders as you furiously grind upon his cock, intoxicatedly chasing an orgasm just within reach. Strong fingers, he rushes down the length of your clenching abdomen, inquisitive palm digging just beneath your naval to feel for the vibrations that ripple across pliant skin with the vehemence of your thrusts onto his cock.  

Sylus relishes the privilege of your private, salacious unravelings, brought upon by him alone, by what he does to you and what you force out of him, for your singular pleasure. Desires heightened to witness you using his body to bring yourself to shattering ruin, it floods his veins with inebriating arousal so heavy, his body aches with the force of his want. 

As such any which way he takes or lets you take, which allows him privy to your raw, unfettered emotions rushing across your face [See above: B, Body Part] is what he enjoys most. Bringing him to completion the fastest when he is able to witness your mouth breaking apart in moans, watch sex mussed strands of hair stick to your temples, mixing in with the sweat of your body, tear-streaked pleasure smeared vivid across your cheeks. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)  

Your sexual escapades are hot, often times competitive and cathartic; an unfettering of strangled desires. Bursting to the surface within the fever of your intimacy. Arduous cravings that are hardly scotched in a singular session. 

Vocal and perverse though he may be in tongue when it comes to your love-making, Sylus is not one for poetic romanticisms waxed within the bedroom. A man of action rather than ornate words. 

His regard for you exhibited in the grip of sturdy arms that clutch you back against his body, feeling for each part of you pressed against his. In the tongue that laves at sweat soaked skin in soothing mercy, from the relentless assault of his hips against your ass.  

Roughened thumbs that swab at tears from red-rimmed eyes, post-coitus, a gentle towel that skates soft down the quivering length of your ruined body before tucking it clean into fresh robes.  

The manner in which he chooses to stay close and warm your bed, instead of leaving right after, even after the fire within your veins has long cooled itself. Foregoing his own personal mandate, to never spare a single trace of himself behind.  

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)  

Sylus takes exceptional care to maintain good hygiene at all times; a man who looks and smells just as good, the pleasant, sharp undertones to his cologne, having you canting your nose into the space of his neck, as you breathe. 

 Right at that tendon wrung taut with the press of your teeth into a harsh bite, to choke the scream that climbs up your throat with the hard propulsions of his cock into your depths.  

Downstairs, he is fairly clean; a shave on the regular, a mere fine dusting of ivory tracing a path from navel, downwards until it disappears beneath the stretch of his pants.  

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)  

[Also see above: G] Choosing to bury his skewed smiles against your wet moans, the bite of restive teeth you sink into his lip, pulling it wider.  The anchor he throws forwards for both your sakes in the entwining of digits, meshing tight against the other to ride out your highs.  

Sinking a bite in farewell right above your left breast before you part, so he knows how that heart bears its frenzied beats for him alone. A reminder he leaves upon your body to ache by, until the next time he finds himself buried within you.  

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)  

Sylus lies in possession of an exceedingly high sexual drive. And herculean, in-humane self-control to boot. Experienced though he may be, due to the course of his sexual history; he’s been able to keep his casual encounters to a minimum due to how well he is able to compartmentalize his needs.  

Overwhelming desires at times, he often spilled within the confines of an oiled fist. At others, tamping down the more primal parts of himself, until he felt it turn a necessity.  

After you, he allows himself release from that tight-fisted restraint more often. Finishing himself in white relief, trickling down his fingers on the days (...hours) he does not have your warm body to sheath into, does not have the symphony of your cries to help him along.  

Your visage in mind, sharp, jagged; he’s already expecting your next meeting with bated pleasure. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)  

Sylus loves the color red on you, appreciates fiercely how becoming it is on you.

Loves to buy you dresses — scarlet as his eyes, as his desires —  to put on, when you let him. Personally ensures, first-hand, they are well-fitted, within the confines of a cosy dressing room. 

When large hands reach to flit past the split of your dress, cup about your ass, fingers drifting about your waist. “A perfect fit.”He praises, to your reflection within the body-length mirror. Skating further up your body to finger the strap of the outfit, skirting it, slow, down your shoulder. Indolent digits, index and thumb, pinching at the hardened peaks of a breast. Curving a hefty palm about the clothed flesh. “You’re a sight to behold.” 

Red, when he curls a palm in between the cleft of your legs, leaves your flesh smarting with the short, pinching grinds against an increasingly swollen clit, stimulated for hours on end. Ruby, to match the flush at your cheeks. Scarlet, down the crescent of your breasts.  

Wine, when you make his color spill with the bite of harsh teeth into his lip, bursting blood in between your mouths, as you withdraw on panting breaths.  Tipping down in willing obeisance — he gifts just to you— with the violent tug of your fingers, directing him back against your mouth. Lapping at his wound, marking him for your own.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)  

Anytime, any place, any where.  

There isn’t an authority powerful enough on Earth to stay his hand, once the two of you decide you want your bodies against each other. Sylus does not shy from an opportunity presented, and if there is none, he makes one.  

In seclusion, or in public— 

Crowds melting away the moment his fingers whip about your waist, stealing you away into private silence. The weight of his Evol has barely scattered from your shoulders, before the strength of his body replaces it, driving you back against a carved pillar. Mouth pulsing against yours in a slow, heavy kiss. Wet, hot; parting from your tongue on a conjoined string of damp pleasure, that bows and breaks under the weight of gravity.  

There isn’t a moment he does not desire you and he certainly has no specious sensibilities to appeal to, when it comes to the chance to indulge you.  

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)  

Curses, nothing quite turns Sylus on than to see you flourish in the place you shine best. When you are dedicated and singular-minded, in pursuit of your target. When you are forced to contend against situations far out of your control, compelled to navigate the perilous dangers that come with your line of work, be it the Tenebrae, Wanderers or something else entirely. And rise above it all, through the sheer drive you possess, a stubborn nature unable to give up on what you believe in. Not unlike his own, a kinship he finds within you.  

A desire to obtain that fire for his own. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)  

There is little Sylus would ever deny you. Certainly, keep from you, briefly; demands he may not fulfill immediately, in the pursuit of your combined pleasures. 

Sharing you with another, however, is a stringent boundary. 

Despite that first impression he settles, of immovable composure, he’s territorial, rather like a murder of crows, over you. Your heart, your sole focus, he desires to monopolize for his own. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)  

Having your mouth on his cock is stimulating. Having your positions swapped and your ass grinding hard against the strength of his jaw, however, is what truly incinerates the blood within his veins. The leverage it bestows within his hold, to have you. Manipulate your pleasure to his liking, set the blood thrumming high within your own body.

Sturdy arms that cord about the plush of quivering thighs, garnet gaze that rolls up to capture yours, accompanying the wicked bite of teeth into the pliant flesh of your thigh. The flat of his tongue running from base to hood, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.  

Relishing his victory in the slow sweep of lids falling shut, the open grin that pulls taut, with the harsh, fluttering pull of your fingers at his hair, shoving him deeper into your pussy. Signaling your utter defeat. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)  

Sylus is in it for the long game. And no matter what it takes, no matter the cost, he sees to it that he gets what he wants.  

Oh, him fracturing from that torturous tug-and-pull you’ve got going on, is but a feverish wish on your part. Sylus lives for the pleasure of your ruination, delights in the number of times he can crest you to your climax. And when not. 

Part desire, part the necessity to have you well and utterly drenched before he even thinks to breach that soft, quivering flesh. Extended periods of torturous teasing foreplay, obligatory if he is to have penetrative sex with you. His size, he understands, not an easy burden to accommodate.  

He often starts out slow; long, deep thrusts into your body as it clenches and moulds against the shape of him. Stimulated eventually enough, you drip copious against him, pleasure over-riding any remaining scraps of  fleeting discomfort entirely until you’re clawing at the sturdy strength of his back. 

Fingernails pulsing at the firm flesh of his ass, his name tumbling incoherent from a parched mouth, until he’s driving into you with the vehemence of an untethered beast. Guttural groans and whispered sighs, splintering against the give of your neck in tandem to your mounting screams. Quenched against the bite of a breast.  

Letting your desires burn in between you until the moment they’re blanketed, hours later, into the dark of night.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)  

Sylus does not wait. When he witnesses desire pool within that provoked gaze, watches the fire that burns parched, as you seek for moisture with the slow slide of a pink tongue against your rouged lip.  

Helping you along into a dark crevice, if you’re out in public. Drawing your panties down against your thighs to reach for the place in between your legs. Roughened fingers plucking at wetness, dragging an indolent path from your slit to the apex of your sex. Curving one long, tapered digit into your clenching walls, stroking, until he brings you crashing for him.  

Proud mouth pulsing a kiss in hushed laughter against your temple, as he assists you in putting yourself back in spruced order.  

Sylus never goes the entire way, when the two of you are rushing against the clock. Ample time, he requires — and makes certain he’d have that, later — to unwrap and uncover the entirety of you, piece by piece.  

An early aperitif, however, is one he isn’t opposed to, especially when it is served, as intoxicating as you are. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)  

He’s willing and he’s game; a word from you is all he requires before granting you exactly what you desire, in spades.  

There isn’t a thing you could throw his way to turn him off you, Sylus is the kind of man to take it all in stride.  

[See also: L, N and K] 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)  

Oh, he possesses a generous, infuriating amount of discipline; immovable rock in the face of obvious temptation. That does not, however, imply there isn’t a savage beast caged, restless, underneath that cool, tempered demeanor. Sylus merely maintains inhumane control over the leash of that sexuality beneath. And he knows how well to untether it too, once he allows himself to let loose his inhibitions.  

Infinite stores of stamina (for daaays), an extremely brief refractory period and an overwhelming desire to wring you dry, entirely for himself, make for a terrifying combination.  

Your hips would long break before Sylus’ cock ever begun to lose its vigor.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)  

Sylus knows an opportunity when he sees one and the chance to have you utterly devastated, is one he never lets up on, and toys are just a welcome addition to his arsenal.  

Pretty little baubles, the two of you purchased together on one of your dates — a discrete, neat store tucked within one of N109’s infamous districts, the way he’d encouraged your fascinated survey of the store’s à la mode selection of vibrators and jeweled plugs, a vaguely amused smile plucking at his mouth. Pulling up every single toy that sparked your fancy for a detailed overview from the ever-present staff, more than happy to answer all your enthused questions.  

Rounding a firm hand about your waist to tug to his side, at the end of your purchase trip, breathing a sensual promise into the cleft of your ear, to let you try them all out in due time. 

And he fulfills it, in equal enthusiasm. 

Deft fingers that press up to slide against the insistent vibrations of the object settled snug into your wet walls. Toying, indolent, at the intensity of its stimulation with sporadic flicks of his Evol. Your stuttered moans clawing higher the longer he keeps you suspended within this torturous state of denial. Rejecting your babbles to let you come, that he’s been at it for hours.  

“Not yet,” he instructs, slipping a cool hand onto the shell of your hip to hold down your senseless bucking.  

It is only several, excruciating denied orgasms later does he tug free the plug at your ass, pressing his cock in lieu of its emptiness. And the way your hole clamps down in a vice at the base of him drags a shuddered, guttural groan from him. Your body stimulated so beyond sense, it drags an exhilarated laugh from his chest, in conjunction to your lost moans. 

“This is it, lovely. Are you enjoying yourself that much?” Mouth pulling wider at your vehement nods. “Do you desire more?” Sinking three fingers up to the knuckle into your pussy, without warning. A quick tug of them upwards, has his energy tinkering at the vibrator’s intensity, sending it buzzing higher and you wail your curses at him. “Hah.” He shudders above, pressing deeper against your back. “That’s it, I like those sounds.” 

“Sing higher, darling.” 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)  

Oh, his craving for riling you up and goading you is infinite. 

Even when you have him physically bound and at your mercy; the gorgeous, insouciant pull of that mouth into a skewed smile —  a crafted calculation — has you feeling as if he still holds the entirety of a winning deck within those trussed hands.  

Through each singular groan, every heaving breath and grunt, a disquieting, infuriating grin tugs constant at lips that demand further of your cruelty. As if a perverse beast actually enjoying the cage it belongs in.  

The ram of a harsh heel, deep into his abdomen, has his grunting a long, gravely sound, Sylus’ body driving further into the savage crush of your shoe — pleasure so intoxicating in the knot of strong brows, that parted mouth —  it stirs fiery arousal deep within your own belly.  

Traitorous wetness trailing down the length of your thighs, arousal that Sylus convulses against the binds of his shackles for. Manages to dip forwards just enough —  the brute —  to catch the trickle of wetness against an adept tongue, at your thigh, and lap. Garnet gaze seeking and capturing yours in a haze so vicious your fingers fist harsh into his hair, in an unforgiving pull. Your moans, he steals — victorious — for himself.  

“That is surely not all you can manage to do with me, can you, darling?” 

 And you can’t be too dishonest with yourself any longer; your orgasms far more fervid and ruinous when he’s had you both dancing along to his little cat-and-mouse game for hours on end, teasing you both with the pantomime of the act. Until, finally, finally, his cock plunges past aching, swollen folds and into your drenched, clenching walls.  

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)  

Sylus’ moans are low, licentious burrs; throaty whispers he secretes right against your ear, to turn your legs to quivering flesh. He doesn’t require his voice to rise above a certain octave, not when he has you gushing on his face with the vibrations that buffet deep into your pussy, when that pleasured rumble of his breaks right in between your legs. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)  

Sylus does not care much for binding or detaining you — restraining your senses — for personal pleasure.  

He allows you use of your precious fetters and restraints, for what it does for him — an opportunity to maneuver your pleasure — and for the two of you, that is... if you can manage to bring him under, to begin with.  

It merely isn’t something that works for him, in roles reversed, when he finds himself sufficient enough to draw forth the pleasure he can achieve for the two of you, with his body alone. 

He has innumerable ways within his arsenal he can bring you to mind-numbing finish with, and he doesn’t require the comfort of a rope for that.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)  

Sylus’ cock is a beautiful, symmetrical thing — rather intimidating at first glance. He teaches your body to take it well, in long, pleasurable lessons. Curving, slight. towards his abdomen. A thick shaft running up into a flared glans that burns in pleasurable penetration the first time you take him in. Numerous, undulating veins along the length, that bump perfect against the surface of your tongue when you swirl around it. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)  

[Incredibly high as detailed at great length in J and S] 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Sleep is the farthest thing from mind when the Onychinus’ head has you tucked at last, exhausted, within his bed. His body — long programmed — hardly permitting the scope of vulnerability slumber brings, in your presence.  

And so, he puts that time to other pursuits. Often nights, choosing to watch over your sleep, carding the occasional stray strand of hair back against your ear. At others, he brings work to bed, spectacled scarlet gaze scouring over lines of text and diagrammatic compilations.  

Not choosing to desert your side, even once, throughout the entire night, protective over your own vulnerability, for as long as it lasts. 

End Notes: Once my fingers actually started on this man, I could not stop even if I wanted to. Sylus has me gripped by my very throat and that worries me greatly LOL.

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[selfcarecap]

Both

✧ Logan Howlett x reader x Storm

✧ summary: Storm and Logan are both hopelessly crushing on you. When they realise that they both like you, they get into a silent competition about who can win you over first… until they realise there might not be a need to make you choose; or: You have a threesome with Logan and Storm

✧ warnings: smut 18+, threesome, oral, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, creampie, liiittle bit of ass play, use of dildo between reader and Storm, I think those are the main things, reader is sub-ish and Logan and Storm are more dominant, reader gets called baby, good girl, princess, pretty girl, bub, nothing happens between Logan and Storm btw because I’m a jealous bitch, reader is shy and a bit awkward, this is definitely mostly porn but romantic feelings are implied too, reader is bi, talking about coming out, but reader is in denial about her crush on Storm and also on Logan bc she’s oblivious and a lil insecure tbh, mention of being drunk, they’re all mutants but it doesn’t rlly come up, Logan is taller than the reader, the part leading up to the smut is a little unserious lol they’re all just whipped but yeah it’s kind of a different fic from my prev Logan ones idk it’s more just fun for the first part; also alternative title is BOAF but I didn’t know how many people would get that lol

✧ word count: oh. umm 11k (the main smut is 4k at the end if you wanna skip to that loll I’ve put a divider (stars) so you know when it starts, you don’t necessarily need to know the backstory)

✧ note: Recently watched X-Men 1 for the first time (yeah i know) and these two are literally the definition of bi panic whaaaatttttt + also I called her Storm and not Ororo(?) because I’ve only watched X Men 1 where they just call her Storm so that’s the only way I’m familiar with her, so yeah idk if anyone else wants this combination of characters but i def do so <33

-

You’re focussed as you do your daily stretches, completely oblivious to Storm and Logan watching you from the other side of the gym. 

They stare as you bend down into downward dog and you make a little exhausted noise at the stretch. Logan almost flinches with how good it feels to hear it; with his enhanced senses it’s as if you’re moaning right into his ear.

Storm’s eyes trail up your legs, over your pink gym set that clings to you in all the right places. She watches a pearl of sweat slide down your belly – she wishes she could lick it off your skin. Logan thinks about making you sweat more if he finally gets you in his bed one day.

He clears his throat after you slide down to your knees, arch your spine and let out a little contented sigh at the welcome stretch. A movement to his right catches Logan’s eye. Storm is standing right next to him, hands on her hips, mirroring his own position.

Is she here to stare at you too? Not that that’s what he’s doing. He was training here himself and was done a few minutes after you got here. Resting his eyes is part of the cooldown – you just so happen to be in his view.

“You training today?” Logan breaks the silence.

“Trained earlier this morning,” Storm answers, folding her arms, “What’re you doing here?” She sounds almost accusatory.

“Just finished my workout. Making sure she’s fine with the weights.” Their eyes drift to you, still stretching.

“She said she might use weights later,” Logan adds, averting his eyes.

The only thing Logan doesn’t like about his little crush on you – if you can even call it that – (you can definitely call it that) is that it sometimes makes him nervous, even if just a little. You’re so sweet and so shy and you’re usually oblivious to his flirting. He’s not used to that.

“Aha,” Storm nods with suspicion and slowly walks out of the gym.

Logan sighs a breath of relief and hopes you didn’t hear any of that. He stops himself from looking at your cute little gym outfit again and leaves to shower.

-

Later that day, Storm knocks at your bedroom door, “I’ve made lunch if you want some.”

Her voice is so angelic, you think, and you briefly wonder if that’s a normal opinion to have about your friend. It’s not just her voice, but those pretty lips her voice comes out of – just from woman to woman. She has nice lips. That can totally be a platonic compliment.

You realise she’s waiting for you to answer as you just stare at her gorgeous, gorgeous face – okay, maybe you do like her as more than a friend.

“That’s so sweet of you, I’ll come join you,” you put on a high-pitched platonic voice.

You’re sitting down at the table getting your plates ready – Storm made your favourite food, said she was just craving the taste today – when Logan comes in. 

“Brought my own lunch, thought I could join you?” He asks but doesn’t wait for an answer, sitting down next to you. 

“What if you can’t?” Storm says, an eyebrow raised, though playfully. 

“And what would your explanation be?”

“We need girl time.”

You’re looking between them with wide puppy eyes. You’re not sure if they’re being playful after all. Their faces soften when they look at you.

“Maybe Logan can stay for lunch and we’ll go to your room later?” you suggest, “We can have a sleepover tonight.”

Storm’s face lights up, “Good idea.” You miss the smirk she gives Logan, who then huffs. 

Logan takes off his leather jacket. You’re sure that’s just your mind playing tricks on you but it almost looks as if he’s doing it deliberately slowly, showing off his big, defined arms. You’re drooling like a dog.

He reaches across the table and your eyes stay glued to his triceps until you hear your name.

“What?”

Logan smiles down at you, “I asked if you could pass the salt.”

You swallow and nod, eyes searching for the salt, but Storm gets there before you. She firmly presses the salt shaker into his hand, and his arm is gone from in front of your face. You resist the urge to pout.

A moment later though, Logan reaches out for the pepper himself, “Sorry, just needa…” He fumbles with the shaker across the table. This time his arm is angled differently and your eyes land right on one of those delicious veins on his skin. 

Storm is kind enough to pass him the pepper too, but this time you think you audibly sigh with frustration when Logan pulls his arm back to his body. You focus on eating instead of panicking about whether either of them heard that.

Storm swallows down her jealousy after watching you mesmerised by Logan’s arms for what felt like an eternity with no idea how obvious you were being.

She finishes her glass of water and gets up to get more. She looks at Logan as she walks to the sink. Two can play this game.

With her back turned to the both of you, Storm undoes the top two buttons of her shirt and places the pendant of her necklace right between her breasts. When she sits back down, she leans her elbow on the table and pushes her forearm right against the side of her tits. Your eyes are immediately drawn to them like a honeybee to a flower.

Storm bites back a smirk. She remains silent so as not to pull your attention away from her cleavage. She wants you to get lost there as long as you need to.

Logan rolls his eyes at her and asks you to pass some food from across the table, pulling you out of your trance.

You see the next exchange of looks between the two of them – their eyes do all the talking. You look away and realise… are they flirting? You thought they were mad at each other, having a silent argument, but now you think you might have been wrong. They’re teasing each other. 

You can’t decide if you should be jealous or turned on. They’re the two people you have a crush on – again, platonic crushes, obviously. If they got together, in whatever way, at least they’d make a hot couple for you to stare at. But you’d also be devastated that it’s not you who gets to be with either of them.

A quiet sound catches your attention – Storm’s fingernail against her necklace, the necklace that’s nestled right between her breasts. You briefly wonder if she’s trying to get Logan’s attention with it, but in that moment you don’t feel jealous. You just appreciate what’s in front of you.

With your elbow perched on the table, you’re leaning your head against your hand, and you notice too late that your arm is sliding off the table. You gasp when your head loses its support and you sit up quickly, gaze pulled away from Storm.

Heat blooms on your face and you lift your glass of water to your mouth to cool yourself down. But the picture of Storm’s perfect boobs lingers in your mind and you spill half of the water. It rolls down your neck and to your chest, and before you can even consider drying off, Storm’s holding a folded up napkin to your skin, patting from your collarbones to the neckline of your low-cut top. 

“Awh, there you go,” she’s done patting you dry and gives you a reassuring smile. Your nipples get hard at the close contact. You hope she doesn’t notice.

You hear a scoff from Logan. Maybe he got something stuck in his teeth. Or maybe it’s directed at you and Storm.

“Thanks, Storm,” you smile your sweet smile and finish your meal. 

But you’re not oblivious to what’s going on between them – the looks they’re giving each other – and you don’t know if you like it yet. Not that your opinion matters, sadly.

-

You bring your own pillow to Storm’s bedroom that night for your sleepover, but she’s got her bed made up all comfy with more pillows than you could need.

“Didn’t know how many you needed,” Storm tells you from in front of her mirror, “I’m so happy we’re doing this. We haven’t had any alone time in so long. Been so busy.”

She’s braiding her hair for the night, hair pulled to one side as she curls the bottom of her strands around her finger, her beautiful neck now exposed. You think about falling to your knees and begging for just one touch. Maybe draw your finger across her skin, or better yet – your lips. The way friends do. 

It’s between the first and second film that you decide to finally say something. You were going to ask her during a boring scene of the romcom you just watched but it suddenly turned into a sex scene. You did your best to seem unbothered and tried to move naturally, scratching your head and flexing your wrist. You’re not sure if it worked.

“Soo,” you turn to your side to face Storm as the credits play, “You and Logan?”

You reach into the bag of gummy bears between you and Storm, attempting to seem nonchalant, as if her answer won’t affect you.

She looks a little panicked, and you’re afraid you know what her answer is going to be.

“What about us?” she asks.

You give her a suggestive look but she waits for you to say it.

“Well, is there something going on between you two? I felt like you were flirting during lunch.”

“No, not at all,” she says almost too quickly, “We’re just friends, if that.”

“Really? You’d make an attractive couple.”

She lowers her voice, “We’re really not into each other like that.” You believe her, and withhold your big breath of relief.

“And anyway, I prefer women,” she adds.

“Really? I mean, yeah, I thought you might. I wasn’t sure. I do too, by the way. Well, I like everyone. I mean not everyone obviously but I like all genders. Not that that’s relevant.”

Storm smiles at you sweetly and puts a soft hand on your wrist. “Of course it’s relevant. I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me.”

You giggle nervously, “Of course. I trust you more than anyone in this house.”

Storm’s heart swells in her chest.

You continue, “Well, and Logan obviously.” 

Oh.

Obvious, is it?

Well, Storm can work with that.

She picks an incredibly gay film next. She didn’t do it on purpose. She just happened to see the film on Netflix. Sure, perhaps she chose it because there were two women in the picture, but she genuinely wasn’t aware how much sex was in the film.

You’re squirming beside her, even more than during the straight romcom you just watched, and it drives her crazy. She’s just better at hiding it, but she’s turned on too. She wishes she and Logan hadn’t fought over your attention during lunch; if you hadn’t thought that there was something going on between them you might have been ready for more tonight. But she ignores her desire for you, holding her arm tightly as she presses her nails against her skin to relieve some pressure.

When the film is over, Storm tells you how she realised she likes women. When she was little, she had a crush on her babysitter, and ever since then she just knew. You grow bashful when she asks you for your story.

“Uh, Halle Berry as Catwoman? That did it for me,” you tell her as your cheeks heat up. Storm only vaguely remembers the film, but she still has in mind that all of her friends told her that the main character looked like her. 

It’s not that she didn’t know you were attracted to her before, but that solidifies it. Now she just has to get rid of Logan.

-

Storm is busy the next day and you miss her presence the entire morning. You woke up before her, your hands still intertwined from when you fell asleep like that, and – like a fucking loser idiot – you imagined what it was like to be her girlfriend and wake up next to her every day.

Now that you know she doesn’t like Logan, you can fantasise about being with her again without the jealousy looming underneath if he got her before you. And she didn’t just say she wasn’t attracted to him (which is crazy) but that they’re both not into each other (which is crazy of Logan). Both of your crushes are safe.

You decide to try out a new stretching routine to distract yourself from how much you’re missing Storm, your bestie who has no idea how much you like her. The positions are nothing you can’t do, but they’re definitely more challenging than your usual.

Logan’s not expecting to see you when he enters the gym; you’re not normally here at this time.

“Hi,” he says. Your head is between your legs as you’re bent upside down. He crouches down to smile at you from between your thighs.

You grin, standing up to turn towards him to say hello. 

“Y’need some help?” He asks. It’s more of a rhetorical question, he’s being polite.

“Actually, there’s this stretch I can’t get into. I think I should be able to do it, but I just need someone to help push me there.”

Logan huffs out a laugh. This is like the porn he plays in his head every night with you and him in the starring roles. “Of course. Where do you want me?”

-

It’s even better than he could have dreamed. He thought you’d need him to hold your hands and pull to add some resistance, but now you’re bent over in front of him and he’s pushing you into a stretch like a pervy gym instructor. 

You keep letting out these little huffs every time you ask Logan to push you further. They sound awfully close to moans. His knee is pressing into the back of yours like you asked him to but you keep asking for more.

He changes up his position, standing behind you fully. If he moved even an inch forward you’d feel his cock pushing against your ass. Logan would usually feel like he’s taking advantage with all the thoughts running through his mind about little innocent you but you’re the one arching even further into him.

He thanks himself for his level of self control and how he manages not to get hard with your pretty ass pressed up against him. It fuels the animalistic side of him and he wants nothing more than to fuck you right here, right now.

It was obvious that you were attracted to him before, but with the way you’re pushing back against his crotch makes him realise that it’s far from innocent.

“Thank you, that felt really good,” you tell him when you stand back up, losing balance after hanging your head upside down for so long. You use Logan’s chest to brace yourself, palms against the hard muscles there. His hands fly to your waist as he makes sure you’re alright. You nod shyly and, with another quick thanks, quickly make your way to your bathroom.

He’s got you. Now he just has to get rid of Storm, and she’s really good with you.

-

You check in Storm’s room after a long shower, but she’s still out. You find Logan in the kitchen; he’s looking through the almost empty cabinets. 

“Wanna go shopping?”

-

You didn’t think grocery shopping could turn you on, but everything Logan does makes you want to rip off his clothes. 

The little things fuel your crush in more heart-warming ways. Like how he picks all your favourite foods, holds the package up to you to ask for approval and places them into the cart that he’s pushing along with one hand as if it’s not full to the brim. 

He’s got it all down even to the most obscure snacks you like. It’s sweet that he remembers and it makes you as dizzy as you felt during your sleepover with Storm. It’s not like you really have a chance with either of them, if you’re being honest with yourself, so you’re fine liking them both.

But it’s his touch that drives you crazy. 

You’re trying to reach a snack on the top shelf. You’re on your tiptoes and your fingertips are only an inch or so away from it. Just when you’re about to give up, you feel two strong hands on your waist, lifting you that tiny bit with no effort at all. 

“There you go,” Logan smiles down at you, taking the package from you and putting it in the cart. Your body still buzzes with the sparks of his touch. 

You’re not very helpful for the rest of the shopping trip. All you’re doing is staring at him. You almost fall to your knees when he reaches up to the top shelf and his shirt lifts a bit. You think seeing even just a tiny sliver of his abs might be the highlight of your day, until you remember how he was pushed up against you during your stretches earlier. 

God, you’re so into him. 

-

Storm finds Logan as soon as she gets home. She hasn’t had a chance to talk to him since your revelation yesterday yet.

“She’s in her bedroom,” Logan tells Storm when she comes in, assuming she’s looking for you.

“I need to talk to you,” she crosses her arms, “She told me yesterday that she thinks we’re into each other.”

Logan cringes, “What, us two? Is she blind?”

“Apparently. I told her that it’s not like that but I don’t know if she believed it. She thought we were flirting with each other at lunch the other day instead of with her.”

“Alright, we just need to stop making it so obvious we’re fighting over her. Let’s just not get in each other’s way and she’ll choose whoever she’ll choose.”

“Yeah,” Storm agrees.

Logan smiles, “I can’t believe that stunt you pulled when she spilled the water. I mean, come on, that was so unfair, I can’t just press a napkin to her tits.”

She laughs, “Okay Mister Bicep, we both have our benefits.” They smile at each other.

Storm huffs, and reluctantly admits: “I wish she looked at me the way she looks at your abs.”

“I wish she looked at me the way she looks at your chest.”

They’re standing next to each other now, staring at nothing, consumed by thoughts of you. They’re so into you.

“When did you realise you like her?” Storm asks.

“I don’t remember an exact moment but it’s just, her gorgeous fucking face. And her whole clumsy thing just does it for me, I don’t know.”

“I like it too. She’s so adorable when she gets all awkward.”

“It makes me want to fuck her so bad,” they say at the same time, then laugh quietly.

Logan clears his throat, “Not to be crude but I’d fuck all that nervousness out of her.”

“Me too. Until she’s so exhausted she can’t even begin to overthink anything.”

They exchange a look – this is getting too heated.

“May the best one win,” Logan concludes, and with a last nod at each other, they both leave the kitchen.

-

It’s a mutual friend’s birthday that week, and all three of you are going to the party.

You’re walking to your room the evening of the party, and Logan opens his bedroom door just as you’re walking past it.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Logan asks, “I need help with my outfit.”

You smile. It’s an excuse to stare at Logan, of course you’ll help.

He changes his shirt about five times – even though there are only two that he can’t decide between. But every time he changes his top, there are a few seconds in which he’s half naked – his muscular, hairy, gorgeous chest and abs exposed, with that thick happy trail reminding you why it’s called that – and you forget all about what the previous shirt looked like.

You watch him change yet another time, quietly sighing to yourself because at some point you have to decide. You watch him button up his shirt and let your eyes roam over the lower part of his body. 

His trousers are hugging his legs so deliciously, they must be tailored. And that sexy belt he always wears keeps sparkling with the reflection of the light, as if you’re not staring at his crotch enough anyway.

“So this one?” Logan asks. 

“Y-yeah,” you nod, as if he doesn’t look equally good in both shirts anyway. 

“What do you think of the material?” He asks. You smile, getting up to feel it. 

You place your hand on the side of his arm, trailing down it, feeling his muscles while you pretend to be feeling the shirt. 

“I like how it feels,” Logan says, looking down at himself and rubbing his fingers over his clothed chest. You follow, bringing your palm to his collarbone to trace his body, from his chest to his lower abs. 

“It does feel nice,” you say. It’s a normal dress shirt, made from whatever material they’re usually made of, but with the warmth of Logan’s body it’s one of the best things you’ve ever felt. 

Distracted by his body, you don’t realise Logan looking down at you, tracing your every feature with his eyes. He can practically see the water pooling in your mouth, and he doesn’t need his enhanced senses to know that you want him in this moment. 

He clears his throat and it makes you lose your balance, gripping Logan’s shirt to steady yourself as his hands fly to your waist. 

“Careful, bub,” he smiles and you feel the heat on your cheeks. How can this man make you stumble without even moving?

“Are you gonna wear a tie?” you ask quietly — you can’t trust your voice right now. 

“I’ve got one here,” Logan passes it to you. He feels like a tie might be a bit too formal for a birthday, but he won’t stop you from staying close. 

You go on your tiptoes to drape the tie around his neck, nervously fiddling with the fabric. “Actually, uh, I don’t know how to tie a tie,” you admit, giggling at your own words. 

“That’s okay, bub, I’ll show you.” 

You don’t retain any information as Logan helps you with his tie, guiding your fingers with his big, warm hands over yours. 

Your breaths intertwine from standing so close, and you don’t even realise that you’re on your tiptoes again, trying to get as close to Logan as possible. 

You know that he can hear how fast your heart is beating, but when his tie is on and you smooth it down against his chest, you feel his own heart beating wildly against his ribcage. 

Logan looks into your eyes, a soft smile on his lips, and you know what’s going to happen. You’re about to kiss. 

He gently places his hand on the side of your face, leaning in. 

Just when your lips are about to touch, you hear Storm calling out your name from the hallway. 

“Uh, Storm was gonna do my make-up,” you stutter, Logan’s hand still on your face. He silently drops it and smiles sadly, “yeah,” he says. 

He moves back to stand in front of the mirror, taking the tie off again, “Think this is too much.”

You nod, “yeah. Sure. I’ll see you later.”

You walk out of Logan’s room with a weird feeling, but as soon as you get to Storm’s room it’s like nothing just happened. 

It smells so good in her bedroom, a mix of her perfume and hair products and her clean bed sheets. She smiles at you, patting the bed for you to sit next to her. 

You close the door behind you, creating a space for just the two of you. It always feels like that when you’re with her, even when there are other people around. Except for Logan maybe; he’s the only one who can get in without even trying — but it’s still different when it’s really just the two of you. 

You’re immediately lost in the world of beautiful Storm as she presents to you her outfit for the night; it fits her every curve and contour and you briefly wonder how you could ever think of her as nothing more than a friend. It breaks your heart that she only sees you as one, but it doesn’t stop the desire you have for her and the joy you feel when you’re around her.

Storm does your make-up on her bed, both of you sitting cross-legged with your knees touching. Her hand is placed gently on your face as she does your eyeshadow.

“You’re so naturally beautiful,” she tells you in her calm voice, “Don’t really need any of this.”

You feel your heart beating wildly in your chest. She just means it as a friend, she just means it as a friend.

You gulp, “Wish I looked like you. You’re so gorgeous.”

She smiles at you softly, “Thank you, but you’re perfect like this. Lips.” You open your mouth slightly so that she can apply your lipgloss for you. Even though she’s using the applicator, it feels as intimate as if it were her finger.

She called you perfect.

Your eyes go down to her lips and you realise she hasn’t put any product on her own lips yet. You’re not sure what comes over you at your next question.

“You want some too?” you ask, breathless, staring at her lips. Even though you’re not looking into her eyes, you can see her looking down at your lips and she smiles a beautiful, sexy smile and nods.

Storm briefly presses her lips to yours, the way straight girls sometimes do at parties – except that neither of you are straight and you’re not at a party, and you doubt that straight friends feel like this after kissing each other. You pull away instinctively, you don’t want her thinking that you could ever even assume that she likes you like that. You’re just friends, and you know that.

Still, you can’t resist reaching out a finger to swipe the excess product over the top of her lip, and you let out a nervous giggle when you notice that her eyes are still on your lips.

An alarm on your phone interrupts you; you set it for 20 minutes before you have to leave to make sure you have everything. You didn’t notice how close you and Storm were until you both pulled away at the noise. 

The alert pulls you out of your Storm induced warm cloud, an uncomfortable feeling settling on your skin. Being the good friend she is, Storm realises immediately.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, a soft hand on your arm.

“Nothing, I just get nervous about these types of parties sometimes. There’ll be so many people I don’t know, and it’ll be so big and loud. I was thinking of taking a shot or something.”

Storm smiles, “Not that I’m against a little shot for courage, but d’you wanna know something natural that always helps me calm down?”

“Mhm, what is it?”

“I feel like a nice orgasm always makes me calmer. Just a quick one with my fingers or a vibrator.”

Her words knock the air out of you. Somehow, you manage to respond. “I’ve always wanted to use toys but I don’t have any. I should really get one,” you chuckle nervously.

“I’m happy to share one of mine if you don’t mind,” she looks deep into your eyes and all you can do is nod your head pathetically. There are some types of thoughts you’ve done your hardest not to let into your head – she’s your friend, she wouldn’t want you thinking about her like that – and now she’s the one putting them there on purpose.

She twists her lips, almost.. nervously? and, in a low voice, says: “You think an orgasm right now would help you?”

Again, you don’t manage to say any words but you do nod your head, biting your lip. 

“You wanna do it yourself or can I stay?” she asks, one shoulder pulled up seductively.

“S-stay,” you stutter.

“I could eat you out if you want, but no pressure. I just feel like that’s the quickest way.”

You take a deep breath. All kinds of thoughts are shooting through your head, but maybe she’s just horny. During your sleepover the other day, she told you how she hasn’t had sex in a while, and how she gets off on making her partners come, so maybe it’s just a natural desire that she wants to make someone other than herself come again for once. It’s got nothing to do with you, you know that, but you revel in the knowledge that she at least finds you attractive enough to want to make you come, even if it’s just as a friend.

You’re also confused. Your ex always took hours to make you come with his mouth, but, still, you believe every word coming from Storm’s pretty lips.

You nod, “Ye-yeah. If that’s okay with you. That’s a very uh, very nice, friendly favour.” You have to make sure she knows that you’re not delusional, thinking this is more than friendly. 

As you squirm in your seat, you miss Storm’s little sigh of frustration at your oblivion. Instead of pitying herself, she decides she’ll show you why you should be more than friends.

“Y’ready?” she asks, blessing your ears with her bedroom voice.

“Yes,” you breathe. 

Your next breath catches in your throat as Storm leans in to press the most gentle kiss you’ve ever experienced to the side of your neck. She’s warm and soft and smells like heaven.

Her lips slowly press along your pulse point, the tip of her tongue darting out as she makes her way up to your ear. Her teeth scrape along your earlobe, but she doesn’t bite. You almost whimper when her warm mouth is gone from your ear.

Storm slides her hand to your jaw, moving her thumb to your lower lip, “May I?”

You nod quickly, and she pulls your lower lip down, sliding her thumb into your mouth to wet it.

You suck on her thumb, mouth watering at having her so close. Storm takes her hand away from your face with a satisfied hum and gently folds your skirt up to your hips, pulling your panties to the side.

She giggles, “y’got such cute underwear.” You look down and remember the panties you decided to put on today – pink underwear with cherries and a red lace trim. You weren’t expecting anyone to see it, let alone Storm. Before you have time to get embarrassed, her thumb is on your clit.

You gasp at the first contact, and your knees buckle. You’re glad you’re already sitting down. She goes to kneel on her soft carpet, sitting down between your legs.

Her breath is on your pussy and you feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“What a pretty fucking pussy,” Storm whispers, more to herself, and impatiently pulls your underwear out of the way more harshly, making sure it stays there. She looks up at you from between your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest, and you bite your lip.

This doesn’t feel so friendly anymore. Unless she just gets off on making her pretty friends come.

Storm sucks her thumb into her mouth to wet it again and begins to gently rub your clit in circles. She realises how wet you already are and smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit. 

“There you go,” she says quietly, and then puts her mouth on you. She runs her tongue through your folds and she’s so gentle. You’re torn between enjoying it and wanting more.

“Feels so good,” you mumble, and Storm grips the flesh of your thigh to hold you still. 

She smiles against you, “Yeah?” and brings her middle and ring finger to your pussy. Licking your clit, she pushes two fingers into you, slowly making her way inside even though you’re more than wet enough.

Your pussy makes a squelching sound against her fingers as she begins to fuck into you, curling her fingers up to rub against your g-spot. You gasp when you first feel her there, your head dropping to the side in pleasure as you moan.

She pulls her fingers out to suck them into her mouth, tasting you with a satisfied hum, “Taste so good, baby.” You get even wetter at that name alone, squirming beneath her gaze.

“Be a good girl for me and stay still, okay?” she asks, mouth connecting with your pussy again as she looks up at you. You nod desperately, hoping she can’t feel the intense heat spreading over your face down to your chest.

She slides two fingers back into you, fucking you gently but precisely, and you already feel the excitement building up in your belly. Storm’s tongue dances over your clit, exactly how you need it to. The only thing missing now is just a liittle more friction.

It’s like she can read your mind, continuing to fuck into your wet pussy at a steady pace, as she begins to suck on your clit. You see stars immediately.

Her mouth has been on you for only a few minutes when she’s got you coming on her tongue and fingers. You whimper her name as you arch your back, hips chasing her face to prolong your orgasm as it crashes over you in waves.

She pulls her fingers out and rubs your clit for a bit longer until you’re squirming again, patting your pussy before she gets up. “Good”, she simply says, biting her lip.

“You feel better?” she smiles at you, innocently sucking your arousal off her fingers as if it’s something she’s done a million times before. As if it’s a normal thing to do with a friend.

“Yeah, much better,” you smile shyly, wondering how to ask her what that was.

She sits down right next to you, pulling your panties and skirt back in place, keeping her hand on your thigh afterwards. She smiles at you, and it feels so intimate. Storm reaches for the lipgloss again, “It’s all wiped away. Here.”

You smile and let her apply the lipgloss again. Storm places a hand on the bed next to your hip to lean in as she does so. She puts the lipgloss away but stays close. She looks at your lips. Your heart starts beating furiously in your chest – she’s about to kiss you.

This time it’s Logan who interrupts you. He calls out your name from the hallway, it’s time to leave.

Storm sits back, “you ready?”

“Yeah,” you nod. She takes your hand as you leave her room. You don’t let go even when you see Logan, his eyes immediately finding your intertwined hands.

He doesn’t know what it means. There are plenty of platonic girlfriends that hold hands. 

You don’t know what it means either, but you know you like the feeling.

-

You don’t mean to get drunk but that’s kind of what happens when you subconsciously try to keep up with mutants with healing factors that make it almost impossible for them to get drunk.

You arrived at the party still hand-in-hand with Storm and spent the first half joined at the hip with her. Logan couldn’t even get you alone for a second because every time one of you left for the bathroom the other went too without hesitation.

Logan finally finds you alone in the kitchen, looking for another drink.

“Y’sure you should have more to drink?” he smiles.

You notice him then, “Logan!” you run over to hug him.

Being drunk makes you more affectionate.

“Can you mix me a drink?” you ask Logan, his arm still around your waist. It feels good there.

“Maybe you want water for now?”

You pout at him drunkenly, taking a step back and folding your arms, “You’re just jealous you can’t get drunk. Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to.”

Logan lifts his arms in defence, “‘Course you’re allowed to, bub. Just making sure you’re up for it. What do you want?”

-

You, Logan and Storm end up in the living room at the mansion. You’ve been very entertaining in your drunk state but, more importantly, you decided to hold one of their hands each in your lap in the back of the car on the way home. They know you get like this when you drink, and they’d never try anything with you like this, of course. But they could have a bit of harmless fun.

It’s your idea to play never have I ever, but the two of them are just as happy to. You’re playing the game with water instead of alcohol, but that’s probably better for you anyway.

Storm and Logan resist the urge to make the game sexual; they’re unsure what you’d be comfortable with if you were sober. You’re the one who makes it explicit.

“Never have I ever…” you’re leaning the bottle of water against your cheek to cool yourself down, “had a threesome.”

The room is immediately struck with tension. Logan and Storm exchange a look that you miss. How have they not thought of this before? 

You look at them expectantly.

It’s a perfectly innocent statement – well, innocent in a way that you’re not implying anything to them specifically. Even in your wildest thoughts you’ve only fantasised about one of them at a time. 

Your eyes are on Storm but she shakes her head. Logan drinks. He shrugs, “Been alive for so long, you try some things.”

You’re torn between arousal and jealousy, but settle on arousal. You forget all about the game.

“I’m not that experienced,” you tell them honestly, “I’d love to experiment a bit but I get shy. Not that I’m– um, not a threesome necessarily. I’m just saying.” You clear your throat, averting your eyes.

“How many people have you been with?” Storm asks, voice soft.

You swallow, unsure whether to count her or not. Does it count if it was with a friend? “Just my ex boyfriend.”

“There’s been no one else?” Logan asks, and you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I told you I’m shy.”

“Nothing wrong with being shy,” he says, “It can be endearing. Don’t you think, Storm?”

When you turn to her, her eyes are already on you, “I agree.”

Your face feels hot and you’re suddenly nervous. They’re both flirting with you, if the alcohol isn’t deceiving you, and you don’t know who you like more. You think of some stupid ‘never have I ever’ statement to change the topic. They do you the favour of playing along.

It’s not long until you all go to bed, going your separate ways but not without a long hug from both of them.

-

The next morning, Logan and Storm meet in front of your room. She’s made breakfast for you and he’s brought you water and some aspirin.

“I should have thought of that,” they say at the same time. Logan knocks at your door.

“It’s us,” Storm says after another knock.

You’re not in your bedroom.

They look for you in the entire mansion, but you’re not there.

“Maybe she’s walking off her hangover,” Logan shrugs, starting to eat the food Storm made for you as they’re standing in the kitchen.

They don’t see you all day.

Storm’s in the kitchen in the evening, starting to worry. She knows you’re not far, and you can handle yourself, but she’s worried you’re embarrassed about what you said when you were drunk, or regretting what you did before the party yesterday.

There are footsteps coming down the hallway, and she knows it’s you before you’re there.

“Hey,” she smiles when she sees you.

“Hi.”

“Haven’t seen you all day.”

“Sorry,” you sit down next to her, a shy smile on your face, “Didn’t mean to disappear. I just needed to think.”

Storm breathes. “Yeah, that’s okay. What were you thinking about?” Her heart starts beating faster.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about what Logan said yesterday. And I don’t know if I’m misinterpreting things and I don’t want to make anything awkward between us or anything…” you look at her in worry, and she takes your hand. She’s not sure what you mean but she knows you need her encouragement to say it. 

You continue, “I don’t know but maybe… maybe Logan could show us what a threesome is like?”

All the worry on your face melts away when Storm grips your hand tighter and gets up. She grins as she pulls you upstairs.

She walks you to Logan’s room and, without knocking, pushes his door open, “My bedroom. Right now.” He follows you without question. 

“Lock the door behind you,” Storm tells Logan when you’re all in her bedroom. Your skin is on fire.

“Whats’s going on?” Logan has his arms folded, a smile playing on his lips.

His eyes are on you but you look over at Storm, who just smirks.

“Are you gonna make me say it again?” you ask, horrified.

“You got this, baby,” she tells you, and hearing her call you that again gives you courage.

You look at the floor, “Uh, I don’t know if you two want to do that with me but. I was thinking maybe we could, like, have, um, a threesome?” You were a lot smoother in your head.

Logan raises his eyebrows, “You don’t know if we want to do that with you? You tellin’ me you haven’t noticed what’s been goin’ on, bub?” He’s right in front of you now, hands holding your face.

“Uh…” you know he can feel your skin heating up under his fingers.

“Want you so fucking bad. Both of us,” Logan nods towards Storm.

“Oh.”

(Logan decides this isn’t the time to tell you that his threesome was with two guys.)

They both grin at each other and Logan walks you to Storm’s bed. They sit down on either side of you – you don’t even know where to look. You don’t know who to kiss first.

Storm makes the decision for you, gently turning your head towards her. You lean in without another word.

This time you get more than a peck. Her mouth is hungry and wet against yours, her lips soft. You’re kissing messily and loudly, and you do your best not getting on top of her yet. You pull away only because Logan’s there too.

“Been dying to do that since last night,” you smile.

“I know,” Storm giggles, “Knew you appreciated my friendly favour.” You hide your face in her neck at her teasing. You’re not sure how you could be so stupid. Now you know it’s more than friendship.

“What’s that?” Logan asks, an eyebrow raised.

You bite your lip, “We’ll tell you later.”

Before he can question it, you pull Logan closer by his shirt. His kisses are rougher, but not in a bad way. His beard scratches against your cheek with the desperation in his kisses, and he’s pulling you closer. You moan into his mouth as his tongue slips between your lips, and you grab a fistful of his shirt.

Storm starts kissing the side of your neck, the way she did last night, and you’re so lost in pleasure that you stop kissing Logan.

“Too hot,” you mumble, pulling off your top absentmindedly. They both stop what they’re doing.

“You wear stuff like this all the time?” Logan smirks, finger slipping under your bra strap. You forgot about the lingerie you put on for them.

You shake your head, “Thought we might do this tonight.”

Logan grins and starts kissing your shoulder, pulling one of your bra straps down with his teeth. Storm turns your head back to her and kisses you again – gentle, teasing pecks from her soft lips to yours. She kisses over your cheek and your jaw, begins to gently nibble on your earlobe.

Logan pauses when his mouth is at your wrist, “You know, bub, the problem with pretty lingerie like this is that it ends up coming off again real quick.”

You’re already so horny from two pairs of lips on you that you can barely speak. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me at all,” you mumble. 

“Can we take it off, baby?” Storm asks.

“Please.”

You feel Storm’s fingers at your back, opening your bra, and Logan is the one who pulls it off. 

They both sigh when they see your tits for the first time, moving to the breast closest to them. Logan thumbs over your nipple, gently playing with it while Storm wraps her lips around your other nipple. You feel yourself getting so wet. 

“H-how about—” you take a deep breath to calm yourself down, “how about you take your clothes off too.”

“How about you take them off?” Storm bites her lip. 

You nod quickly, lifting her top over her head to find her bare underneath. You trace your hands over her perfect tits, cupping them as your thumbs rub over her nipples and she lets out the sweetest moan. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan moving to take off his shirt so you quickly turn to him, grabbing hold of his shirt to do it yourself while Storm stands up to take off her trousers. 

You pull off Logan’s shirt and, even though you’ve seen him shirtless before, you’re mesmerised by the muscles and the hair and how good he looks. 

“Y’like what you see, bub?” He smirks and you bite your lip, resisting kissing him. You move on to his belt, trying to ignore how Logan gropes your tits as you get him naked except for his boxers. 

Storm sits between your legs, helping you out of your trousers and you all move to the middle of the bed. You’re panting before anything has even started, “Sorry, it’s just cause I’m excited,” you breathe, grinning with anticipation. 

“It’s okay,” Storm kisses you behind your ear. 

“So are we, bub,” Logan tells you, moving to press his lips to the side of your neck. He kisses further up, to your jaw, while Storm’s lips ghost over your collarbone on your other side. 

Excitement builds up in your belly, your skin tingling all over. You kiss whoever is closer to you – it’s Logan – and start making out with him. The only way to accurately describe the kiss is to say that it’s sloppy. Logan’s devouring you, licking your lips and into your mouth. 

You carefully feel for Storm’s face and don’t stop kissing Logan until she’s right next to you too so you can kiss her instead. She puts a hand behind your neck to pull you in, and you lean your hand on Logan’s leg to steady yourself. 

When your hand moves just an inch, you feel how hard he is, and how big. You force yourself to pull away from Storm, your lips already kissed raw.

Logan’s thigh tenses under your hand, “How are we gonna do this?”

“Don’t know, just wanna cum,” you say. You don’t want to seem petulant, but you’ve never been this turned on in your life. Your underwear is soaked through and it almost hurts how badly you need to be fucked right now.

“We got you, baby,” Logan says, “Can I take these off?” He starts to pull at the waistband of your panties where they hug your hip, and you nod quickly.

Storm gets up to walk to her nightstand, but you can’t focus on her too. Your mind is on Logan all but ripping your panties down your legs, discarding them somewhere on the carpet. 

He takes your knees to push your thighs up to your chest as you lie down, your head supported by a pillow.

“God, look at you. So fucking pretty. Look at her, Storm,” Logan says, spreading you open for him to take all of you in.

Storm smirks at Logan, “I know.”

You feel Logan’s eyes going between you and her, but she’s leaning down to kiss you so all of your senses are taken over by her.

“Got this just for you, baby,” Storm stops kissing you, pulling something out of the drawer of her nightstand. She’s holding a pink, soft silk bag, “Had a feeling you might want to play.” She pulls out a pink dildo, and you bite your lip as she kisses you again.

Logan asks you something twice before you register what he’s saying, lightly squeezing your ankle to get your attention.

“Huh?” you pull away from the kiss.

“Can I eat your pussy?”

You nod, “But I want you inside me.”

Logan smiles, “Alright, just let me get a taste first. Been dying to know how you taste.”

Storm lies down next to you on her stomach to kiss you some more. Her lips trail over your shoulders and move up to your neck.

Logan bends down so his face is between your legs, and he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re so wet already, bub. So fucking pretty,” he smiles, moving to lick all the way up your pussy once. 

“Here,” he pulls your legs over his shoulders as he settles between them. He pushes two of his thick fingers into your pussy and puts his mouth on you. His tongue on you is fast and skilled, but you still need more.

“‘S not enough,” you whine, and Logan looks up, smiling.

“Need me inside?” he asks, wiping his mouth that’s smeared with you with the back of his hand. You nod, staring in awe as he finally takes off his boxers and you get to see his hard cock in all its glory.

“Y’gonna be okay, bub? It’s kinda big,” he teases. You can see that. But all you can do is keep staring with an open mouth and nod. Storm wipes some spit from the corner of your mouth and gives you a quick kiss.

“You got this, baby,” she tells you, cupping one of your tits while she strokes over your hair with her other hand.

“Yeah,” you say, eyes not leaving Logan’s cock.

“You ready?” he asks, bending down to give you a long, wet kiss.

“Mhmm, need it so bad.”

He chuckles as he spreads your legs for him again, rubbing the tip of his cock along your pussy. It’s so wet you can hear it.

Logan slowly pushes inside you, and you gasp when he fills you up. He’s big, but the pleasure outweighs the pain.

“Theeere you go, bub. So fucking tight f’me. Taking me so well,” he starts to thrust into you in a gentle rhythm, fucking you deep but pacing himself.

It takes you a few moments to get used to his size, but Storm’s kisses at your neck help you ease into it. You can’t believe this is happening – you never would have thought you’d be with either of them, especially not with both and at the same time.

“Feels so good,” you moan weakly, pulling Storm to kiss you again. You whine when she lets go, but she’s sitting up at your side again soon, holding the dildo. You nod before she’s even said anything.

“Let me,” she leans over to Logan, who pulls out of you. Storm fucks your pussy with the cool silicone for just a moment, and it’s wet with your arousal when she brings it up to your chest. 

She teases you first, rubbing the wet tip of the dildo over your nipples, trailing it up your chest and over your cheek, smearing your own arousal over your face. You bite your lip in frustration, and look down to see Logan jerking off to the sight of you spread out for him. You can’t decide who of them you need more.

You’re salivating just at the thought of Storm fucking your mouth with the toy, and you hum when she rubs it across your lips.

“Close your mouth, baby,” Storm says when you’re about to take it in your mouth. She leans over you and lets her spit drop onto your mouth, smiling as she trails the tip of the dildo around your mouth, your lips desperately parting for it.

“Here, baby,” she says finally, pushing the dildo past your lips. You moan around it, taking the silicone as deep as you can. 

Storm fucks your mouth with it and all it’s doing is making you even more horny. The sound of Logan’s slicked hand on his cock stops, and he’s grabbing your thighs to spread them more, finally fucking you again. This time his pace is rougher, and it’s exactly what you need.

Storm’s wet lips are on your jaw as she continues to push the toy in and out of your mouth as you suck on it eagerly. She bites her lip as she leans over you to watch you, pushing the dildo in just a bit more.

“Doing such a good job, baby,” she hums, holding your chin.

“Yeah, being such a good girl for us,” Logan rasps, voice hoarse as he fucks you, “Look so fucking sexy with your lips wrapped around a cock.” You know he can feel your pussy clench around him at his words and he smirks, rubbing your clit with his thumb.

As you focus back on the cock in your mouth, you notice that Storm’s free hand is down her panties, and you can see her getting worked up too, a bead of sweat rolling down the valley of her tits.

You hum around the dildo and she pulls it out. “Wanna eat your pussy,” you tell her, voice almost whiny.

She smiles, sitting up to pull down her underwear. You reach out to touch the flesh of her thigh, and all you want to do is taste her.

You get up, disregarding how Logan slips out of you as you turn around to get on all fours. Storm sits down in front of you, leaning against the headboard.

“I’ve never done this,” you tell her, leaning down with your ass in the air. Logan positions your hips so he can rub the tip of his cock through your folds, and you take a moment to close your eyes and focus back on Storm.

“That’s okay, baby,” she tells you, “I know you’ll do well.”

You nod eagerly as you spread her legs, leaning in to press a kiss to her clit. You’re addicted as soon as you taste her. You open your mouth wider to lick up all of her that you can, attaching your mouth to Storm’s pussy like you never want to let go.

Her hand goes to the top of your head, careful not to mess up your hair as she spreads her knees wider to accommodate you between them.

You lick at Storm’s clit, tongue trailing down to taste her some more. You revel in the sounds she makes when you start to make out with her pussy, all but putting your face in it.

It’s then that Logan begins to fuck you again, pushing his dick all the way inside your wet pussy. He’s rocking into you so much that it makes your whole body move forwards and backwards with his thrusts, and you can barely focus on Storm’s pussy.

“Sorry, bub”, Logan says from behind you when he notices that you’ve stopped, but you can hear from his voice that he’s not sorry at all. You and Storm smile at each other as you grip her thigh to hold yourself in place and go down on her again.

You get the hang of eating pussy quickly, paying attention to the sounds Storm makes and what makes her knees tremble around your head.

She comes against your lips when you suck her clit into your mouth. Her hand is at the back of your head, hips chasing your face as you play with her clit through her orgasm. 

Being between Storm’s thighs as she comes ignites a fire in your core, and Logan’s fucking you so good, getting messy from how close he is.

You push yourself up on your arms to kiss Storm, smearing her wetness over her lips as you make out. She has to hold your face so that you don’t move too much with Logan’s thrusts, but you’re too weak to keep kissing her as you get closer to your orgasm.

“You close, bub? Gonna cum inside you,” Logan grunts from behind you.

“Mhmm, don’t stop, please.”

“I got you, baby, I got you. Doin’ so well,” he grabs your hips to fuck you even deeper as you arch your back. He hits that sweet spot inside you, and one of his hands sneaks down over your belly to rub your clit. 

Even though you can hear him starting to lose his breath, trying hard not to come yet, he plays with your clit in a way that’s perfect, and your orgasm has you biting back your moans because you’re scared of how loud they’d be.

Logan blows his load in you before you’re done coming, and it prolongs your own orgasm as he fills you with his cum, somehow even deeper inside you than he was before.

You almost collapse when he’s done with you, smiling as you roll over to lie on your back.

Storm lies down next to you and kisses you while Logan gets the bottle of water from her nightstand. She drinks a sip first and then passes it to you.

Logan chugs the rest of the water when you’re done, his adam’s apple bobbing as a drop of sweat slides down his neck. You follow it all the way over his glistening abs and down into his happy trail. You notice then that he’s hard again – or still hard – and you’ve finally got the answer to that question you’ve spent nights thinking about, wondering if his healing factor also applies to his sex drive.

“You want more, bub?” Logan asks as Storm starts kissing your neck in that way she knows how to do so well.

You nod as you sit up, Storm getting the dildo as she gets behind you, Logan sitting in front of you.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Storm asks, hand trailing down the back of your spine and over your ass as you get on all fours again.

“Yeah,” you tell her, looking back at her with a smile, a new desire forming deep in you.

You get between Logan’s legs, leaning in to kiss him again. Every time his mouth is on you, it feels like he’s devouring you, and it’s one of the best feelings you’ve ever had. He’s all tongue and teeth.

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask against his lips, your mouth squished up with his hand grabbing your face.

“Been waiting for this since I saw you for the first time, bub. Don’t know if I’ll last long.” You never thought you’d hear Logan of all people say those words, but it turns you on that you could reduce even a man like Logan to nothing but his most primal needs.

You grin as you wetly kiss down his chest, arching your back so your ass is in the air for Storm.

“So pretty,” she mumbles, lost in her own world as she runs the tip of the dildo through your folds, and you almost lose balance.

Logan’s cock leans against the side of your face as you kiss all the way down to his happy trail, and without further thought, you take him into your mouth. You can still taste a bit of yourself on him. 

Storm starts fucking you with the dildo just as you’re getting into going down on Logan, and you pull your mouth off his cock. Somehow the dildo feels bigger in your pussy than it did with your mouth. Storm knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Didn’t realise how big it was,” you say, steadying your hands against Logan’s big thighs as you fuck back against the toy.

“Not bigger than me, bub” Logan grumbles, and you giggle.

“We know, big boy. It’s not a competition,” Storm tells him, and even though you can’t see their faces you know this just became a competition for them. And you really don’t mind the two people you have a crush on competing on who can make you come more often.

“Can I play with your ass, baby?” Storm asks you when you’ve adjusted to the toy in you and you’re back to trying to stuff all of Logan’s cock in your mouth. You moan around his dick.

“What was that, princess?” it’s Logan who asks.

“Yeah, you can,” you turn to face Storm, “But I’ve never done that before.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be gentle. Logan, can you pass me the lube from over there?” Logan ignores her – it’s not on purpose, but you’ve gone back to putting your wet mouth on him and you’re sucking his cock, and it’s hard to focus on anything but your wet mouth.

You pull away and look up at Logan, and he passes the lube after seeing the pretty smile you give him.

“Fuck, bub, so fucking gorgeous,” he says, bringing your face up to his to give you a kiss and then getting up to sit next to Storm.

“Just relax for us, baby,” Storm says, and you’ll never get tired of hearing her call you that.

Logan rubs a hand across your ass cheek, kneading your flesh. He finds his discarded shirt at the edge of the bed, wiping down your inner thighs that are dripping with his cum to try and stop Storm’s sheets from getting too messy. 

He runs his hand softly up your spine as Storm squeezes drops of lube onto your ass. Logan’s hand goes back down, settling between your legs to gently play with your clit, not to make you cum but to relax you.

“So pretty,” Storm says absentmindedly as she rubs her thumb over your tight hole.

“Can you come over here?” you ask Logan, feeling weird with both of them at your back. You like having one at each side.

“I’m here, bub,” he sits down in front of you again, lifting your head to rest your cheek on his meaty thigh instead. He gently runs the back of his hand over your other cheek as you sink down into the bed with your upper body.

Storm gently pushes the tip of her finger into your ass, “That feel okay?”

“Feels good,” you hum, letting her go deeper as she simultaneously starts to fuck your pussy with the dildo.

“Such a good girl, hmm?” Logan coos from above you and you sigh in pleasure.

“Doing so well,” Storm tells you, thumb hooked in your ass as she begins to fuck your pussy more roughly. You instinctively start fucking back, your hips moving on their own as you get up on all fours again.

Logan’s biting his lip as he watches you take Storm, hand reaching down to jerk off again, but you shove his hand away. “I wanna,” you pout, wrapping your hand around him.

“‘M not stopping you,” he tells you, sitting back as you make him feel good with your hand.

“I’m close,” you say, suddenly feeling the pleasant pressure between your thighs, looking back at Storm who smirks at your words.

She fucks into you more roughly, the added stimulation by your ass making you tip over the edge. You let go of Logan and grab his thigh to keep your balance as your orgasm flows through you, even better than the previous one.

She pulls out of you slowly, rubbing a hand over your ass cheek.

“Wanna make you cum again,” you turn to Storm.

“Later, baby, come sit on my face,” she says, and how are you meant to resist that?

She lies down on the bed and you straddle her, careful to balance your weight out on your knees rather than on her, “you sure?”

“C’mere,” she says, pulling you down onto her face, and you’re lost in the pleasure of her tongue on your clit for a few moments before you can even open your eyes again. You take Logan by his wrist and make him stand up in front of you so you can keep sucking his cock.

You suck on Logan’s dick as eagerly as Storm’s tongue is on your pussy, spit running down to his balls like it’s running down the side of Storm’s mouth. You hover over her to let her breathe but she pulls you back down.

“Don’t worry about me, I can handle you.”

She sucks on your clit with a new intensity, and you forget all about Logan’s cock as it slips out of your mouth and slides wetly across your cheek. You clumsily stick out your tongue, and Logan chuckles, “So fucked out already, hm?” He jerks off in front of your face, holding you in place. He begins to fuck against the inside of your cheek, filling your mouth with his cock.

You hum, not really listening but simply taking his cock in your mouth as the pleasure builds up inside you when Storm pushes her tongue into you. Her hands are on your ass and she sucks on your clit harder. 

Your back arches as you suddenly cum again, cheeks hollowing around Logan’s cock in the process as you suck him in deeper. Storm plays with your clit for a few more moments, lifting you to roll to the side, and your knees sink into the mattress.

“Such a good girl. Y’gonna make me cum again?” Logan says from above, and you look at him with puppy eyes as you take as much of him as you can.

“Been doin’ such a good job all night, baby. You can take him deeper,” Storm says, watching you. You’re going down on Logan but you want her praise too, so you take as much as you can of Logan under both their gazes.

“Fuuuck, baby” Logan groans, his cum spilling down your throat as you swallow him eagerly and he fucks your mouth until he’s finished, the wet sound of his cock in your mouth echoing through the room.

When he’s done coming, Logan lifts you to kiss him, and you know you still taste like him. Storm is on your other side, and you turn to kiss her, both their hands on you as you keep kissing.

-

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve each had by the time you collapse in a tired heap of sweat and lust and endorphins. 

You’re sandwiched between them, your pussy feeling as warm as your heart.

“Not that it’s a competition but I think I made her come more times than you did,” Logan tells Storm over you. 

She props herself up on one elbow, smirking at you, “You wanna tell him?”

You shake your head shyly, looking over to smile at Logan. You’re close to falling asleep, only half registering what they’re saying anyway.

“Helped our beautiful girl calm down before the party last night. Tasted better than the birthday cake.”

Logan smiles, “Can’t even be mad at you, I would’ve done the same.”

They notice you drifting off, pressing gentle kisses to your lips one after the other. You feel Storm’s hand on your face.

“Look how gorgeous our girl is,” Logan says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Those are the last words you hear before you fall asleep.

Our girl. You like it. 

-

P.S. reblog to get a kiss from Logan and let me know your fav moment/line/whatever to get an even sloppier kiss from Storm 😳🤭  (no but seriously skhksjhg😭, I appreciate every single reblog and comment a lotttt, even if they’re just short <333)

[jamminvroomvroom]

hi babe i’m here from the dms but. speaking of brain rot, thinking abt fwb lando again where u stay the night after and wake up in the morning expecting him to be gone already for smth work related or what not but he’s still in bed absolutely clinging to u. and then more soft sleepy morning sex 🫠🫠

play pretend.

ln x fem!reader

in which it’s time to stop pretending…

just a little blurb to say…. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lavenderlando !! sorry i made you wait like 6 months for this lmfao i love u girl, u mean the world to me and i hope this hits the spot 💖💖 lemme know what y’all think, more 4k requests will be worked on asap (it’s exam szn ew)

songs to set the mood: denial by james marriott, real love baby by father john misty, can i call you rose? by thee sacred souls

warnings: 18+!! minors go away! smut, morning sex, friends to lovers, best friend!reader, friends with benefits type relationship, fluff, unprotected sex (don’t be silly…)

1k words

cool air casts goosebumps over your bare skin, the open window letting in the morning breeze. you tug at the grey bedsheets, dragging them higher over your frame where you lay. you eyes are cracked open, hazily taking in the sight before you.

he’s still here.

you often expect lando to be gone when you wake up. sometimes it’s because of work, sometimes it’s because you’d promised not to do this again but alcohol had then rendered the both of you irresistible to the other, and it was too awkward to have yet another jarring conversation about how you’re such good friends.

but he’s there. and he’s looking at you.

“hi.” he croaks, soft and low. you revel in his morning voice on the rare occasions you get to hear it.

“hey.” you mumble, leaning in closer to him.

he pushes the duvet up and away, inviting you into his arms, and you wriggle towards him. he’s a human heater, and you’re cold, that’s the only reason you snuggle up, tucked between his arms.

“you’re still here.” you whisper into his chest, purposefully quiet, almost as if you don’t actually want him to hear you.

“couldn’t leave you.” he mutters quietly.

you crane your head to look up at him, eyes blown wide at the admission.

“why?”

“i hate leaving after.”

the ‘after’ hangs heavy in the air between you for a second. he’s eyeing up your lips and you’re returning the gesture, sleepy eyes flitting between his and his plush lips.

this never happens. usually, the night starts with too many drinks too quickly, progresses to his hands dropping dangerously low on your waist, leads to the pair of you mentally scarring an innocent taxi driver, and ends with you underneath him. or, on top of him. and then, he’s gone.

“for the record, i hate it when you go.” you reply, and the space between you dissipates. there are so many unsaid words being traded between you, an intense charge of energy. you’re anxiously sliding your hands up his sides, itching to feel impossibly closer.

“maybe i should stop going then, hm?” two of lando’s fingers grasp your chin, tilting it up to bump his.

“yeah.” you breathe.

it’s like he’s tugged an invisible string, and you’re melting into him, his lips slotting immaculately over yours, as if they were sculpted by god to rest against yours. he tastes familiar, it’s rare you get to kiss him sober and in the light of day. you bask in it, finding the messy, loose curls tickling the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the thick, brown strands. he groans, parting his mouth just enough for you to slide your tongue over his.

“want you. now.” you gasp urgently into the space where your lips part, your body rolling hungrily against his.

“i always want you, drives me crazy.” lando grunts, grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you even closer.

lando slots his thigh between your legs, and you search for friction, rutting against him. you’re both naked from the blurry night before so you can feel everything, each part of him so ready for you. you’re slick for him already, can feel the way it’s painting your inner thighs. you hate how easy it is to lose yourself in him.

“take me then.” you whine, your forehead collapsing against his shoulder.

lando smirks, flipping you over so that your back is to his chest, like you’re nothing. he hooks your top leg over his, sliding himself closer to where you’re aching for him.

“can’t keep pretending.” lando whispers against the shell of your ear.

he slides deep, then, filling you to the hilt. it knocks the air out of you, your back arching at the sensation of him hitting every single spot that mattered.

“then let’s not pretend anymore.” you choke out, your head rolling back against his shoulder.

“yeah, baby? wanna be all mine?” he teases, thrusting deep and slow, the slide of him shooting pleasure over your body like the slow, satisfying drip of warm honey.

“already am, all yours.” you sigh, totally and utterly content as your nerve endings pulsed with pleasure.

“good girl.” lando praises, his voice fucked out and lovestruck.

as if he’s rewarding you for your admission, the pad of his finger slips down your navel, finding your clit. you’re soaked for him, wet and warm, and he traces circles into the bundle of nerves, each touch sending you keening back into him.

“so close.” you sound like you’re begging, pleading for him to let you finish all over him.

“gotta say please.” he nips the skin of your shoulder and you squirm, toes curling.

“please, lando.” you writhe, canting your hips back against him.

“sound so pretty for me.” he coos, peppering kisses down your neck.

his fingers speed up against your folds, working you perfectly to a sweet release. everything is still blurred by sleep, your body overly sensitive from the cool air pouring in through the window and the slumber still lodged in your bones.

“cum with me.” you slur, your eyes squeezing shut. you almost turn into him, convulsing in his arms to the point where you’d be staring into his stormy eyes if you could manage to pry yours open.

“let me see those eyes.” he commands, your entire body shuddering. you blink, staring up at him, and you both fold, meeting your ends. he looks fierce, starved, completely enamoured with every single way your face moves.

your jaw hangs agape, a choked cry stifled in the back of your throat. it’s all too much, and just about enough, huge, calloused hands roaming your body as your shake, spilling all over him.

“god.” you breathe, flopping limply against him. he stays buried inside of you, his face lost to the damp skin of the crook of your neck.

“i never would of left all those mornings if i knew this is the good morning i’d get.” lando laughs, the sound deep and wholesome. you cosy yourself up even closer to him.

“not letting you leave from now on.” you murmur, smiling to yourself when you feel his lips press against the back of your head.

“you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

-

sorry this is soooo bad lmao i felt the urge to write something short n sweet xoxo

-

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[thef1diary]

Edged | C. Leclerc

Summary: Despite Charles' warning, you couldn't help but continue to test his patience. True to his words, he edges you until you lose your mind.

Part 1: piano punishment

warnings: 18+, smut, dom!charles, bratty!reader, orgasm denial, edging, slight pain play, spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), blowjob, use of vibrator, degrading words, dirty talk, praise kink, nipple tease, mention of squirting, slight dacryphilia

wc: 4k

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You were solely to blame for the situation you were about to put yourself in, especially since Charles had warned you about it beforehand. But the thought of testing his patience was too tempting to resist.

It started subtly. You began wearing shorter clothes around the house, barely-there shorts and tops that left little to the imagination. Every moment was calculated, every bend and stretch designed to catch his eye.

One evening, you found Charles lounging in the living room. His eyes followed you as you moved around, pretending to be oblivious to his attention. This time, you were wearing nothing but one of his old shirts, barely buttoned.

You sauntered over to the bookshelf next to the couch he was on, your movements slow and deliberate. Reaching for a book on the lower shelf, you arched your back, the shirt rising to reveal the curve of your ass. You could feel his gaze burning into you and a small grin made its way to your face knowing your plan was working.

Straightening up, you let one shoulder of the shirt slip down, exposing the soft mound of your breast. The edge of the fabric rested just above your hardened nipple, clearly visible through the thin material.

Charles' eyes darkened with desire as he called you over. "Que faites-vous?" [what are you doing?] he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and lust.

You smiled innocently, holding up the book. "I'm about to read," you replied, making no effort to adjust the shirt.

His gaze lingered on the exposed skin, a spark of something more mischievous forming in his mind. He nodded while he reached out and gently grabbed your free hand, pulling you closer until you were straddling him, your knees sinking into the leather couch.

His hand flicked the edge of the fabric covering your nipple, exposing it fully to his heated gaze. Using his other hand, he revealing your other nipple as well before circling around the sensitive buds with his thumbs, sending shivers down your spine.

"Just reading?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So if I unbutton what's left of this shirt and drag my fingers down, I won't find your pussy wet and desperate for my attention?"

His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, your breath hitching as he unbuttoned the remaining buttons of the shirt with deliberate slowness. He looked into your eyes waiting for your response as his fingers lingered on the fabric.

Resting your arms on his shoulders, hooking your fingers together behind him, you shrugged, a coy smile making its way to your face. "Why don't you find out?"

A knowing smirk played on his lips as his hand travelled down your body, finally reaching the wetness between your legs since you'd forgone panties yet again.

His fingers brushed against your slick folds, eliciting a gasp from you. "Just as I thought," he whispered, his voice low and teasing. "Absolutely soaked." He teased your clit lightly, rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves, making you writhe against him.

"Charles," you moaned, your hips moving of their own accord, seeking more of his touch.

His free hand moved to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him as his other hand worked its magic between your legs. Your shirt had fallen completely open now, leaving you fully exposed to him. His lips found your neck, pressing kisses along your skin as his fingers dipped inside of you, curling to hit that sweet spot.

Your moans grew louder, your body trembling with the need to cum. "Charles— 'm close," you stuttered out, rocking your hips against his palm for added stimulation.

"No," he firmly stated, moving his fingers away right as you were about to reach the edge.

Confused and frustrated, you looked at him, your eyes pleading for an explanation. His fingers grazed over your clit before pinching it harshly. The sudden sharp sensation made you arch in painful pleasure, a cry escaping your lips.

"Don't you remember what I told you?" he asked, his tone firm.

You shook your head, your mind too clouded with need to recall his words. "I don't remember," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He faked pity, pulling his fingers away from your clit before his hand rounded to your ass, smacking it lightly. "Think, mon amour," he said, his tone both mocking and commanding. "What did I say I would do if you acted out again?"

Your eyes widened as the memory flooded back, realization dawning on you. "Behave, and it won't happen. Act out, and I swear, this was the last orgasm you'll experience for a long, long time."

Already shaking your head in silent protest, you tried to plead with him, but the words were stuck in your throat. He chuckled, noticing the expression of dawning comprehension on your face. "Ah, you remember now," he murmured, satisfaction lacing his voice.

Desperate to convince him otherwise, you ground down on him, your hips moving in a frantic rhythm. "Charles, baby, please," you begged, your voice breathless. "I'll be good, I promise."

His hands moved to grip your thighs, holding you still. "No," he said firmly, lifting you slightly off him so you couldn't grind on him anymore.

Before you could say anything else, his hand came down sharply on your pussy, the sting making you gasp and fall silent. "You've had your chance to behave, but you couldn't help but still try to tease me hmm?" he asked rhetorically, his fingers now slipping between your folds, pressing against your clit with just enough pressure to keep you on edge but not enough to let you cum.

You whimpered, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. "Please Charles," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I need it."

He smirked, his fingers never stopping their teasing. "Oh I know you do," he said, his tone almost sympathetic. "But you're gonna have to wait until I think you're a good girl. This is your punishment remember?"

You could only nod, biting your lip to stifle your cries as his fingers continued their relentless torment. His other hand came up to your tits, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you arch your back.

"You're gonna learn your lesson, mon amour," he murmured, his voice commanding. "And by the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging to behave."

He pressed a firm kiss to your lips, his touch both reassuring and dominent. Pulling back, he looked into your eyes. "Go get your favourite toy from the bedroom," he instructed.

You hesitated for a moment, the heat of his gaze making you feel both excited yet nervous knowing that no matter which toy you choose, you won't be allowed to cum. His shirt still hung loosely off your frame, barely covering anything as you walked to the bedroom, your legs shaky from his earlier teasing.

You made your way to the bedroom, opening the bottom drawer of the dresser where you and Charles kept your growing collection. Neither of you were shy about adding toys to your bedroom activities since it only heightened both of your pleasures.

You scanned the neatly arranged toys: a variety of vibrators, dildos, and plugs in different sizes and shapes. Among them, you spotted the remote-controlled vibrator that Charles could connect to his phone.

With a deep breath, you picked up the vibrator, its smooth, curved design fitting perfectly in your hand. You knew this choice would please him, giving him the ability to edge you to his heart's content.

Returning to the living room, you handed the toy to Charles, who smirked approvingly. "Good girl," he praised. "See, it's really not that hard to behave. But you," he continued, connecting the vibrator to his phone through the app, "are such a slut for me that you can't even think straight when you're needy."

You were still standing in front of him, clenching your thighs together as you thought of how the rest of the night would go.

Charles nudged your feet apart, spreading your legs wide to prepare you for the vibrator. His fingers returned to your pussy, sliding his fingers back and forth, separating your folds as his palm pressed against your clit. Sitting on the edge of the couch, he was at eye level with your sweet pussy, and he couldn't resist the urge to taste you.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, and placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh. Slowly, his tongue traced a path along your sensitive flesh, making you shiver in anticipation. His fingers continued their gentle teasing, but it was his mouth that drove you wild.

Charles' tongue flicked over your clit, sending electric jolts of pleasure through your body. He alternated between gentle licks and firm pleasure, his mouth working in tandem with his fingers. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as your knees threatened to buckle from the intense sensations.

He groaned against your pussy, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure. His tongue dipped into your entrance, tasting your arousal before moving back to your clit. You could feel yourself getting wetter, coating his fingers, mouth, and even dripping down your thighs.

With one hand, Charles reached for the vibrator, its smooth surface cool against your heated skin. He spread your lips with his fingers, using the vibrator to gather your wetness before slowly sliding it inside you. The sensation of the toy filling you, combined with his tongue on your clit, made you cry out in pleasure.

Your hand made its way to his hair, tugging on the strands as you neared the edge. Charles responded with a playful slap to your ass, making you gasp. He then turned the vibrator on to the highest setting, causing your knees to buckle, a moan leaving your lips as intense pleasure surged through you. He chuckled casually, as if he made a mistake, before turning it down to the lowest setting before you could cum, ripping away your orgasm at the last moment.

"No! Please," you begged, gripping onto his shoulder as you bucked up your hips in a poor attempt to keep the pleasure flowing through your body.

"Oops," he said, a sly grin on his face. "Looks like you'll have to be patient, mon amour."

You whimpered in frustration, your body trembling with need. "Please, Charles," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Not yet," he replied, his fingers teasing your clit once more. "You'll have to earn it."

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but then you realized he was mocking what you had told him when you made him play the piano for you. A playful smile tugged at your lips despite your frustration. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be?" you murmured, your voice breathy.

Charles' smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "That's right. You told me to earn it, and I did, let's see if you can."

The vibrator hummed steadily inside you, just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over. You squirmed, trying to find some relief, but Charles held you steady, his grip firm on your hips.

"Do you remember how you made me play for you, teasing me by playing with your pussy right in front of me?" He asked, and you whimpered in response. "I would've let that go, but you've truly tested my patience, walking around almost naked."

He leaned closer, his lips grazing your inner thigh. "You love being a little tease, don't you? Showing off your body, knowing I can't resist you," he said, his voice dripping with lust and a hint of anger. "You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you? Always needing attention, always needing my cock."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the degradation only adding to your arousal, and based on your expressions, he knew it too. "Baby, please..." you begged, not even sure what you were asking for anymore.

"Please what?" He mocked, his fingers nudging the vibrator set on your clit, gently pressing it into you. "You think you deserve to cum? After all the teasing, all the games?"

You shook your head, tears of frustration staining your cheeks. "I'm sorry, Charles, I'll be good, I promise."

"On your knees," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for an argument.

You dropped to your knees in front of him, the vibrator still pulsing inside of you, keeping you on the edge of madness. Charles leaned back, unzipping his pants and freeing his hardened cock. "You know what to do," he said, gesturing to his lap.

With eager hands, you reached for him, taking him into your mouth, inch by inch. As you drooled on his cock, spreading your spit all over, he played with the controls of the vibrator on his phone. The settings changing erratically from low to high, driving you to the brink and back repeatedly.

His hand found its way to your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed up and down. The sensation of him in your mouth, combined with the relentless teasing of the vibrator, was nearly too much to bear. Every time you thought you were close to release, Charles would change the setting, pulling you back from the edge and making you whimper around his cock.

"Just like that, mon amour," he groaned, his hips thrusting gently as you took him deeper. "You look so beautiful like this, desperate and eager to please."

You moaned around him, the vibrations of your sounds sending shivers down his spine. His grip in your hair tightened, urging you to take him faster. The vibrator still buzzed between your legs, its low, steady hum a constant reminder of your denied release. The sensation was maddening, like an itch you couldn't scratch, leaving you feeling like your orgasm was close, yet miles away.

Each thrust of his hips pushed him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around him as you struggled to take him all. Your hands gripped his thighs for support, nails digging into his skin. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him harder, your tongue swirling around his tip.

Charles groaned, his pleasure evident in the way his body tensed. He controlled your movements, guiding you with firm but gentle pressure. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, a telltale sign that he was close.

Your body screamed, every nerve ending trembling for release that never came. The frustration only heightened your arousal, making you whimper around him as he played with the vibrator controls again.

"Fuck, you're such a good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Taking me so well."

His praises spurred you on, making you bob your head faster, taking him deeper until he touched the back of your throat. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn't stop, desperate to please him.

With a strangled moan, Charles pulled out, quickly telling you to open your mouth. His cock twitched as he came, hot spurts landing on your tits and tongue, catching his cum and savouring the taste. Your fingers trailed down your body, gathering his cum before bringing them to your mouth and licking them clean. The act so erotic, plus the high vibrations pulsing in your pussy, it instinctively made you begin humping the air, desperate for release.

But just as you were about to have an earth-shattering orgasm, Charles turned the vibrator off completely. "No!" you cried out, the denial only making you sob louder. "Please, please, please, need it," you pleaded, words coming out a mumbled mess.

He picked you up off the floor, placing you back in his lap but this time he made you lean your back against his chest, hooking your legs over his so you couldn't close them.

"You still have a long way to go before I let you cum," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "But that doesn't mean I'll stop playing with your pretty pussy."

He took out the vibrator and replaced it with his fingers,  sliding them into you with ease. "After all, it belongs to me no?"

You whimpered in response, the sensation of his fingers filling you both soothing and maddening. As soon as he lightly touched your overstimulated clit, you arched your back, caught between wanting to pull away from his touch and needing more. Your body made the decision faster than your mind, pressing closer to him despite the overwhelming pleasure.

"You played with it right in front of me, telling me I can't touch you," he continued, his tone a mix of reproach and possessiveness. "Now it's my turn."

You hooked your arm around his neck, reaching up to press kisses to it while crying softly. His fingers began moving inside you, slow and deliberate, curling just enough to brush against your sweet spot.

"Now you're going to remember who this belongs to," he murmured, cupping your pussy with his palm. "You're going to learn your lesson, mon amour."

He set a punishing rhythm, his fingers thrusting in and out of you while his thumb circled your clit. You could feel your orgasm building again, but you knew he wouldn't let you have it. Your eyes dried out due to the amount of frustrated tears that spilled down your cheeks, but he still pushed you closer and closer, only to pull back before you could tip over the edge.

"Does that feel good hmm?" he asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Do you like it when I play with your pussy like this?"

"Yes, yes," you moaned, your body trembling. "It feels so good, baby."

With his other hand, Charles began to tease your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers. You moaned, distracted by the dual stimulation, your mind hazy with pleasure. Just as he allowed your orgasm to build again, he suddenly removed his fingers from your pussy.

Before you could process the loss, the sharp pain of his hand landing directly on your puffy clit made you cry out. The stinging slap ruined the building orgasm, tearing you away from the edge brutally. You trembled in his hold while he gripped onto your thighs, holding them open while you desperately wanted to clench them together.

"Don't hide it from me, what did I say? It belongs to me." Charles words were punctuated with another slap to your sensitive clit.

You gasped, the sharp pain mingling with a strange pleasure. He didn't give you time to recover before his hand came down again, and again, each one aimed at different points. Your hips bucked, trying to escape the onslaught, but his grip on your thigh was unyielding.

To your surprise, the slaps began to bring a different kind of pleasure to your body, one you didn't know you would like. But Charles knew your body better than you did. Each sharp sting sent electric jolts through you, mingling pain with a deep, intense pleasure that had you trembling in his hold.

This time, the growing release felt different, an intense pressure building in your core as if you were going to squirt. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body quivering with anticipation and need. But once again, Charles knew your telltale signs.

Just as you were on the brink, he brought his hand down one last time, the slap harder than before. He then cupped your pussy, the constant pleasure turning into stable pressure on your pussy making you squirm.

"Charles," you whimpered, your tone raw and desperate.

"Shh, mon cœur," he soothed, his hand holding firm against your swollen, sensitive flesh. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of mockery. "You almost got off just from me slapping your pretty pussy. You're such a little slut aren't you?"

You moaned, the mix of his degrading words and the pressure on your clit sending conflicting sensations through your body. "Yes, Charles," you breathed, the admission making your cheeks flush with shame and arousal.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers teasing your folds. "I knew you were desperate, but this? Getting off on a few slaps? I knew you'd enjoy it, such a dirty little thing, always craving more."

His words made you shiver, your body reacting despite your attempts to hold back. "You're my slut, aren't you?" he asked, pressing lingering kisses down your neck.

"Yes," you replied, the heat in your core intensifying with each degrading word. "I'm your slut, Charles."

He smirked, his palm still applying firm pressure to your clit. "You'll do anything to cum, won't you?" he taunted. "But you don't deserve it, not yet."

You squirmed against him, the ache between your legs growing unbearable. "Please," you begged, "please, baby."

He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "No, mon cœur. You haven't earned it, you'll have to wait." He lifted his palm, fingers grazing your clit lightly, and the brief contact sent a jolt through you.

"Look at you, so wet and needy," he said, his tone almost pitying. "You can't even think straight when you're this desperate, but that's what you like, isn't it? Being at my mercy, waiting for me to decide if you get to cum or not."

His words were a torment and a thrill, and you nodded, a fresh set of tears welling in your eyes. "Please," you whispered again, barely able to form the word.

"This is your punishment, mon amour," he stated firmly.

By the end, you were a trembling, moaning mess, completely at Charles' mercy. He pulled a his fingers away from you, leaving you panting and desperate. Slowly, he began buttoning up your shirt, scattering soft kisses on your cheeks and neck.

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you, your mind still hazy from the overwhelming sensations. Slowly you began to realize that he wasn't going to let you cum tonight, no matter how well you behaved. Desperation welled up inside of you, and you tried to form the words to convince him otherwise, but they came out a mumbling mess.

"Charles—please," you managed to speak, your voice shaky and broken. "I need to..."

"Shh, mon cœur," he interrupted, his tone soothing as he continued to button up your shirt. His fingers worked deftly, securing each button with care. "You've done so well tonight."

You whimpered, your body still humming with arousal but Charles' calm demeanour and gentle praise started to seep into your mind, soothing the frantic need. He gently turned you around in his grasp, making you face him. His lips brushed against your forehead, then your cheeks, placing light kisses to calm you down.

"You're such a good girl," he whispered between kisses, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Taking everything I give you, enduring it all for me."

Your protests turned into soft whimpers, your body slowly relaxing as he continued his tender ministrations. His hands moved with practiced ease, tracing patterns on your back while his voice wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

"Just relax," he said softly, his lips grazing your ear. "You did so good today. If you keep behaving, maybe one day, I'll let you cum as many times as you want."

You sighed, the frustration replaced by a sense of acceptance settling over you. His lips pressed against yours in a tender kiss, sealing his promise. As the gaze of desire began to fade, you knew that despite the torment, you craved his touch, his control, and the sweet release only he could give.

Pulling away, you rested your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a calming rhythm that helped ease your racing thoughts. Charles continued to hold you close, his hands gently stroking your back as he whispered soothing words, promising that you'll be rewarded soon.

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[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 3

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Hey, I hit 4k followers! That's pretty cool, thank you everyone!

Part 1 // Part 2

A snip taken from Le Printemps, by Eugène Bidau

.

It takes you too long to pick a dress the next morning. There was an issue with all of them, one was too tight around your chest that you could barely breathe, the other had a hole in the sleeve that you hadn’t noticed before.

You'd ended up picking something you hadn't worn in a while- sage green with little flowers on it. 

Halfway to the museum, you'd noticed a small stain on the skirt, that had made you frown.

It wouldn't lift with the wet wipe you'd pulled from your bag, and you'd have to settle for hoping he wouldn't see it.

Your stomach flips at the thought of him.

You'd worn a dress in hopes that this was a date- you didn't understand why you wanted it to be a date so badly.

Okay, that wasn't true, you knew you liked him, even though you shouldn't.

It probably wasn't a date, why would he be interested in dating you?

I haven't had a clear thought since, he'd said, you knew the sentiment, wondering, if he was just like every other Alpha, nice at first and then demanding later.

The other Alphas you'd been with- you try not to shudder- they'd been awful, love bombing until you let your guard down, and then getting angry when you tried to deny them something.

The last one had gotten upset that after only knowing him for two weeks, you didn't want to share your heat with him. 

The scorn he'd shown you when you reinforced your denial instead of caving, it had made you curl up and never want to see another Alpha again.

This Alpha could be worse, he could be cruel, waiting to get you alone to trick you into something you didn't want because you'd stolen his coat. The thought sent an uncomfortable wave of nausea over you.

You see your seedy reflection in the window, everything moving too fast for you to focus on except your own gaze.

You would not be taken advantage of.

.

There’s that too much feeling again, everyone is so busy around you as you stand outside the art museum waiting. You see children running past, and dogs, a delighted scream in the distance that makes your chest feel like it’s on fire with the too much of it all. 

Why did the world have to be so chaotic? Why couldn’t it be warm and quiet and peaceful with hints of cracked pepper and bergamot-

You blink, realising you’d been thinking about the Alpha again.

Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. To get involved with someone that made you feel this way, like you wanted to give in to his demands. At which point would he ask for too much?

Your shoulders drop, you check the time, quarter to twelve.

You turn to leave.

Someone says your name.

You raise your head to find the Alpha approaching. He’s wearing a beige shirt, with large threads that look almost knitted, paired with black pants and another coat that definitely costs more than you can afford. 

Too late, your stomach twists.

You nod your head in greeting.

“Hi,” You acknowledge shyly, “You’re early.”

“Hello, I thought I told you to call me when you got here?”

Your chest squeezes in fright. Was he already making demands?

You keep his gaze, trying to show him a braver you than you were.

“I only just got here.” You challenge, wondering why it was such a big deal.

He nods, raising a hand to push his hair back. You watch him scan the area before letting out a soft breath.

“Sorry, I just didn’t like the idea of you waiting all alone here.”

Was he worried about you?

“I can manage,” You inform him, “I come here all the time.”

He studies you for a moment, looks as though he wants to say something, but decides against it.

“My apologies,” He turns to stand beside you, “Shall we?”

Your stomach flips at his words and you try not to focus on it, or him, and definitely not his smell.

You begin walking.

You try not to touch him, keeping a respectful distance, not wanting to take any part of him he might not be willing to give.

As you walk through the museum’s outdoor park, a lot of people glance your way. Men and women alike, want to steal a look at the man standing beside you. It makes you feel incredibly conscious of yourself, and you feel like the stain on your skirt grows ten times its size in that time.

You wonder if any of their staring has to do with the assumption that you were a mated pair- the thought makes you shiver- the idea that you would be mated to a person that looks like him.

“Cold? Want my coat?” He offers.

You shake your head, not wanting to touch this Alpha’s coats ever again.

“I’m alright, I’m overheating anyway.” You reply, hoping he didn’t ask any follow up questions. Your period would be upon you soon.

“Poor thing.” He soothes.

It almost makes you stumble.

Your eyes widen and you feel a sharp pang in your stomach, his easy comfort swirling in your hindbrain, begging you to curl up with this man in a cozy nest- not a man, you correct yourself, an Alpha.

You’d only walked a few minutes beside him and already you were thinking about bringing him into your nest? Had you gone insane?

You refuse to think about it, focusing on the trees, and the people passing by with dogs on harnesses leading the way-

“Did you grow up in New York?” He asks, his voice breaking into the whirlwind in your head.

You swallow, shaking your head before looking over at him.

Damn- looking at him was a mistake.

You tell him where you grew up on a shaky breath, asking him to reciprocate.

He smiles, calmly responds that he grew up here, bounced around the city a bit. Something about his response, the tone of his voice, tells you that there’s a key part of the story missing.

You don’t pry, knowing better than to ask intrusive questions.

You swallow, smiling at him politely when he looks at you, still trapped in the moment when he offered you his coat.

You catch a group of women with their eyes on William, and when their gaze falls on you, you watch their collective expressions switch from interest to disdain.

You drop your head, finding that maybe the floor is safer to gaze at than your environment.

What were you doing here with him? Why had you done this? You should have just stayed home where you were safer.

“What do you do for work?” He asks next, breaking into the din in your head. 

You turn to look at him with wide eyes, unsure as to why he was so interested in you.

“Uh- I’m- I work in customer service… somehow. I have no idea how I ended up there.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, the tone of his voice sounds genuinely curious.

You glance his way, giving him a smile.

“I’m not exactly a person that’s comfortable around people. I like… being alone.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not really, but it’s better than nothing.” You let out a breath, “Can’t complain.” You finish with a mutter.

“Something else you want to do?”

You shake your head sadly. You couldn’t very well say that you’d rather not work at all- it would look like you were after his money.

You think for a moment, trying to make something up, and falling short.

“Honestly, I don’t know, I guess I haven’t found my calling yet.”

He nods in understanding, and it gives you the opportunity to ask about his line of work.

“What about you? What do you do?”

“I'm in security,” he answers, “I handle asset and individual protection, and I even get contracted by the government occasionally.”

You listen intently, nodding along to his words. You'd already looked him up and had some idea of what he did, but it was interesting to hear it from him.

“That sounds really cool. Is there a lot of danger?”

He grins, and abjectly, you feel as though you've asked something stupid.

“It can get dicey sometimes, yeah, especially with protecting people.”

“Right, yeah, sorry, dumb question.” You mutter, looking down.

“I like your questions.” He says lowly, angling his head in your direction so that you hear him.

Like a fledgling omega, your heart skips a damn beat.

His eyes are very dark, you try not to trip as you get caught up in them, pools of obsidian, pulling you into him.

He gazes right back, the soft look in his eyes fills your head with delight, makes you forget about breathing for a few moments.

It's something so primal inside of you, a whisper in your head that this… this alpha, might be special. 

You breathe out a short sigh, inching closer, until you're close enough to breathe him in. You close your eyes, taking a deep, slow breath, bergamot and citrus chasing your anxieties away.

You lean in more, hindbrain in control, desperate for more of his scent, his hand is rough on the back of your neck. 

Your nose almost brushes the scent gland on the side of his neck when someone walking past clears their throat loudly.

You jerk, pulling back, brain restarting as absolute horror fills you.

No way did you almost scent a stranger in a public place.

You make a sound of regret, stepping back, his hand slips from your neck, you glance up at him, the scent of desire heavy in the air.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You vocalise, turning away for a second to catch your breath and calm yourself.

“I wasn't stopping you.” He admits, as you continue to breathe.

This was too much, he had too much of an influence on you. His words make your stomach flip.

It was a very good thing, you decided, that you'd chosen a public place. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what would have happened if you'd been alone. You weren't sure if you had the capacity to stop yourself around him.

He had the hidden ability to somehow switch your brain from rationality to instinct. And that, was the most dangerous thing of all.

“I'm sorry,” you say again, trying not to cry from how overwhelming it is to resist him, “If you- if you want to leave I'll understand.”

“Not at all, omega.” He replies almost instantly, “I want this, don't be sorry.” He reaches out to take your hand in his, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on.” He guides, taking a step forward to prompt you into walking again.

He doesn't let go of your hand.

.

The sandwich shop has an old feel to it, sitting at the center of the park with lots of seating both indoors and out for dining, the little building looks like it was built at least a decade or two ago. The roof is partially made of glass to allow natural light to spill in, blocked by trees all around except in the direct centre where a large amount of light spills in.

When Billy asks to be seated in the coolest spot, you turn to look at him in surprise, your stomach twisting, heart accelerating as you take in his casual dominance of his environment.

Like other Alphas, he knew how to command a room, though, with him, the assertion was more subtext. He was polite, and yet he always seemed to get what he wanted. It was a dangerous mix, and the implications of what that meant for you scared you a little.

“Is here okay?” He asks, turning to you when the woman at the front guides you to a table.

You blink in surprise. No one had ever-

You study the booth with a little frown, finding it a little too bright for your senses and then your eyes drift two tables down to a darker booth before looking back at him shyly.

“That one?” He asks, already moving.

“Yes please.” You say nicely, following him.

It's nice, you never sit in the booths because it's usually just you when you come here, but the seats are soft, and you can tell the velvety upholstery is clean and has recently been redone.

He slides into the seat opposite to you, his knees bumping yours for a second as he gets settled.

You giggle when they bump you again and he mutters an apology.

“Sorry, it's a little small,” you say, “And you're kind of… not.”

He laughs quietly.

“I'm okay, getting in was the hardest part, and it's not too bad.” You feel his legs extend out on either side of yours, taking up space to get comfortable. 

You can feel your heart beating forcefully as you watch him scan the little paper menu that had been placed on the table before you'd been seated. Finding difficulty in figuring out why exactly he'd taken an interest in you.

“S-so,” you murmur, getting his attention, “You didn't have the coat cleaned?”

His eyes darken, a smile pulling on his lips as he recounts the memory in his head.

“I was curious. I'd deleted the video of you taking it- didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble for you- plus I know that omegas occasionally do things on instinct- so when I got it back, wrapped so tightly, I was… just wondering about you a little.”

You swallow nervously.

“And then?”

You feel the molten heat in his gaze as his eyes roam over you.

“And then I smelled the most delicious scent. It made me desperate, made me lose control of my own thoughts for a couple of minutes. The smell of your heat was wonderful, omega. I knew I had to find you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but your eyes catch movement of a waitress coming your way.

“Hello, my name is Teresa, I'll be your waitress this evening. Are you ready to order?” She rushes out, smiling politely though you notice that her eyes linger on William for a few moments more.

“We're not ready to order yet,” he says, eyes still locked on you, “Can you come back in five minutes?” 

She nods easily, stepping away with a ‘sure thing.’

There's a beat of silence, where you stare down at your menu and read none of the words, head racing with what you know.

“What are you thinking about getting?”

You blink, glancing up at him and then back down to the menu.

“Um, I usually get the turkey on rye, so maybe that.”

“Got any suggestions for me?”

You hum, deep in thought.

“The grilled chicken pesto always smells so delicious, there's some fresh mozzarella in it too. I've never had it, but it's a popular one.”

“You should try it. Mix things up.”

You smile sadly, glancing at the price of the sandwich in question, the fresh mozzarella near triples the price.

“That's okay, I'll stick with my turkey.”

“Don't worry about anything else. If you really want the pesto, get it.”

His eyes are earnest, and you know there's another conversation happening in the subtext of this one. That he was willing to cover the cost, that it was obvious that it was the source of your hesitation.

You swallow, glancing down at the price once again, figuring that one sandwich wouldn't throw him into debt.

A little lump swells in your throat, you wonder if he would expect anything because of this like alphas before. You figure one sandwich did not give him that much leverage over you. You'd done more damage with his coat and he'd overlooked that.

“Okay, I'll have it. What will you get?”

“Steak sandwich.” He answers, with a smile, just as Teresa appears again.

“Ready?” She asks eagerly.

.

“Why did you pick this table?” He asks, studying you.

You glance over at him, having been distracted by some people walking in.

You're beautiful, he squeezes his fists, fighting himself. He wants to provide for you so badly that it tears at him. He can see how defensive you are, how cautious you act sometimes. He knows that you must have had bad encounters with Alphas to be this wary. He wants to learn you, know you better than he knows himself.

“I have a little sensitivity to light.” You respond, absentmindedly, “I can barely see in direct sunlight.”

He inclines his head, noting for later, to avoid anything that would overwhelm you.

“I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart, it must be so hard to deal with.”

He feels delight fill his body as you give him a wide eyed look, your omega nature appreciating his sympathy to your plights. 

He bites the inside corner of his lip, wanting this sweet, timid omega to be his, very badly.

The urge to have you scent him sharpens, to press your nose to his neck, to have you breathe him in, mix your scents together so that no one would question whether or not you were a mated pair. You'd almost done it earlier, and he hadn't realized how eager he was for it until the moment you'd pulled away.

He had to play his cards right. If he scared you away, he would not get another chance.

.

You talk a lot, about where you grew up, and the schools you went to, and when he tells you about his childhood, you try not to give him any looks of pity, nodding along, eager to listen to everything he has to tell you.

You want to comfort him though, your hands clenching into fists in your lap because you want to reach over and squeeze his hand and tell him you’re sorry but logically you know that you barely know him.

Except that you feel like you’ve known him a very long time. Your face hurts with the amount you’ve smiled, the unfamiliar expression printed onto your face, where you’re usually shy or frightened.

When he asks about you, you feel a little more comfortable revealing personal information. Describing the details of your job so that he understands your day to day work.

“Does it pay well?”

“You know it doesn't.” You grumble sadly, “I would take up a second job if I could, but companies have this rule about how many hours an omega is allowed to work weekly.” You stop talking, waiting to see what stance he was going to take on this. The entire job market was designed to push omegas into the arms of alphas or betas rich enough to take care of them. 

His mouth turns down into a frown.

“They should just pay people liveable wages to begin with. Having a second job would be too much for anyone. At least tell me you get health insurance.”

You make an unsure face.

“For the most part, but there are… big gaps.”

His eyebrows crush together in sympathy.

“You get heat days?”

You nod, taking a few sips of your drink.

“Yeah, they give us three, and I usually have to take two extra sick days because I have longer heats.”

“Wait, they don’t give you days specific to your heat requirements?”

You let out a little awkward laugh.

“No, three heat days, giving more days to some people would be unfair according to them.”

He clicks his tongue, “That must be so hard.” He hums, and something primal sparks inside of you.

Yes, your mind screamed at him, yes alpha, I’m a poor little thing, please soothe me and take care of me and keep me warm and safe and full-

You clear your throat.

“I get by.” You reply.

He shakes his head, deep in thought.

“It’s still not fair.”

.

You let out a slow sigh when you take your first bite of the sandwich.

Eyes closed, you can't believe what you're tasting, that it could be so delicious.

You do your hardest not to take a second bite before finishing the first, determined to savour it.

Across from you, he makes a low hum when he bites into his, and you fight a smile, stomach fluttering, happy that he likes it.

“Maybe you can find another job?” He suggests between bites.

You blink, shoulders dropping.

“I've been trying, it's just not that easy,” You look down at your sandwich, a touch of sadness fills your chest, “Sorry, I don’t mean to complain.”

“It's okay, I want to hear about it.”

You let out a harsh breath, your stomach turning over.

“Why? Because you smelled my heat and decided I was going to be your omega?” You blink, regretting the words as soon as they come out, drawing back into yourself and waiting for him to get angry.

“I'm sorry,” you say when he doesn't immediately speak, “I shouldn’t have- I'm sorry.” You take a shallow breath, feeling the panic grip you tightly.

“Don't apologize, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong.”

You don't meet his eyes, still trying to get control of your fears.

You hear movement, and in your peripherals, you watch him slide out of the booth and to a stand. Oh god, was he leaving? You feel your eyes begin to swell with tears. 

You'd done it, successfully chased him away.

Your breath stutters when his plated sandwich slides in beside yours, and finally, you glance up at him.

“May I?” He asks softly, and you automatically comply without thinking, sliding deeper into the booth to give him more space.

He fits himself in, while you grab a napkin to blot at your tears, a little embarrassed now that you realize he wasn't actually leaving.

“S-sorry.” You whisper, trying to apologize for this abundance of emotion. For sure, it would definitely annoy him.

Your breath stutters when you feel the warm press of his palm to your shoulder blade.

“Breathe, omega, everything's alright.”

You suck in a shaky breath, his scent wrapping around you.

He moves slowly in your peripheral, moving his hand to brush the backs of his fingers over your cheek.

You finally look at him when he touches you, the sensation leaving tingles behind.

“One more big breath for me.” He guides, and you obey, feeling your brain respond to his gentleness.

His eyes are warm, chocolate, a feeling of ease settles into the base of your spine.

“When I smelled you on my coat for the first time, I knew I had to find you. But, finally meeting you, and slowly getting to know you, is what makes me want to stay. You're not my omega, and I'm not your alpha… But I'd like to be.”

My alpha?

Your lips part in disbelief, looking into his eyes, feeling hope swell inside of you.

Maybe he would make a good alpha, maybe he would hold you when you were scared, and kiss your cheek every night before falling asleep, maybe he would hold you tightly and talk to you after sex, and not make you feel like a used item to be discarded-

You shudder out a breath.

“I-I'm not interested in finding an alpha right now.” You stutter out, afraid of his response. 

His eyes remain kind, though there's something in them that makes you think that he's sad.

“I understand, sweetheart. I won't bring it up again.” He turns, bringing his sandwich up to his mouth to take another bite.

You follow his lead with wide eyes, surprised that this was all he had to say on the subject.

After a few bites, shoulder brushing his arm every now and again, you can't hold back.

“You're not… mad?”

You hear him exhale slowly.

“I don't think I could ever be mad at you, little one. I like you a lot, and I'm willing to… be as patient as you need me to be.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And what if it never happens? I don't want to give you false hope.”

To your surprise, he laughs, low and sweet. It brings a smile to your face though you don't know the joke.

“I'm going to have hope whether I want to or not. That's the consequence of wanting.”

Want.

“You want… me?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Well, yes, I guess it was, but…” You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head, “I'm sorry, this is so crazy.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why is it crazy?”

“Bec-” You couldn’t say it out loud.

He turns to you, studying you intently for a moment.

“I mean, well, look at me.” You say softly.

He raises his eyebrows.

“You're lovely.” He murmurs.

You can't help the shy smile that it brings to your face.

.

To no one's surprise, he pays.

You let him, because you were in no position to offer any kind of payment, and he was willing to lose a three thousand dollar coat on a whim. 

When he offers you a ride home, you feel comfortable enough with him to accept, looping your arm around his bicep when he extends his elbow for you to take.

The muscle below is firm, and you simmer with delight at the privilege he gives you.

You look around as you walk together, taking in the scenery around, watching as someone throws a frisbee, and a dalmatian runs to catch it.

“I take it you don’t like me, then.” He says, interrupting your thoughts.

“I do.” You blurt so quickly that your brain doesn’t have time to catch up. There’s something aching in your chest at the thought that he was unlikeable to you.

You take a deep breath, smiling sadly.

“That’s the problem. I like you, and that will cloud my judgement. My past experience has made following my heart almost impossible… and alphas…” You swallow, “Alphas can be scary, and they flip so suddenly sometimes,” you let out a sigh, shaking your head, “It's dangerous to trust an alpha.”

“It hurts me to hear you say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry, and angry that you've had so many bad experiences with alphas. I'm sorry that they made you feel unsafe. I know it doesn't hold much weight right now, but I'd never hurt you.”

You're almost inclined to believe him.

“I guess we'll see.” You say, giving him a meaningful look.

He grins down at you.

“I like the sound of that.”

.

His car is heavy with his scent. You close your eyes, heart racing, breathing in deep lungfuls, feeling your brain go hazy with it.

Your skin gets hypersensitive, the feel of his leather seats brushing your thighs, the way it feels on your fingertips, makes you drunk in a way you've never felt before.

You don't give him your real address, but one that's a block over so that he doesn't see the hovel you really live in. 

It's hard to focus on anything outside of the vehicle, when his engine purrs to life and the sound vibrates your eardrums gently, he makes sure you're buckled in, before starting off.

He doesn't race, takes his time, moves reasonably. It makes you feel safe, settles you. You'd been a little worried he was an aggressive driver, but you had nothing to worry about.

You blink in surprise when he extends his phone to you, unlocked, his hands catching your eye, a work of art you could stare at for hours.

“Pick some music?” He offers.

You nod, fingers brushing his, and you select something soothing, lo-fi, to enjoy.

You get hypnotised by it, the bergamot and notes of citrus, cracked pepper that makes you hum, delighted. If this was what being in his presence was always like, how would you ever leave?

You wanted to press your nose to his neck, breathe him in right from the source, you wanted this scent soaked into your pores until it followed you everywhere. You wanted this smell in your nest, clinging to your things.

You're so needy by the time he pulls over, eyes glassy with want, you notice his hands are gripping his steering tightly.

“Omega,” he says, a slight tremble to his voice, “Do you want to scent me? It'll help you relax.” 

It wouldn't. You knew it from the bottom of your heart, scenting him would only make you want him more. But your hindbrain's in control now, and all you do is nod shakily, fumbling to unbuckle your seat belt.

He covers your hands calmly, doing it for you when you struggle too many times. You look at him shyly when you're both free.

He gives you a warm smile, before tilting his head up, exposing his gland to you.

Your heart pounds in your ears, a thrumming that fills your head, almost too loud as you lean forward, pressing your face to his neck.

He groans, and you reach to fist his shirt tightly in your hands, taking in a deep breath.

This was your alpha, there was no denying it, no other scent had ever took hold of you the way his did, everything else was rotten in comparison, and you were losing grip of your sanity with each passing moment.

You breathe him in, memorizing it, the extra kick, straight from the source, your hindbrain takes full control in these moments, and you're completely helpless to it.

“Alpha.” You sigh into his neck, and you feel him shudder beneath you.

You tilt your head up, lips brushing his gland, he groans loudly, the sound echoing in your ears, drowning out the thrumming of your heart for just a moment.

“That's it, omega," He guides, "Take what you need.”

You whine, if you really took what you needed, he'd already be at home in your nest, ready to make you his.

You tilt your head higher, and he turns to look at you with heated eyes, your noses brush in the quiet of his car.

Someone walking past catches in your peripheral, and you gasp, reeling back, realising where you were.

“S- sorry.” You say, scrambling away, reaching to unlock the door, stepping out and bolting as fast as your legs can carry you, too afraid to look back at him.

It takes you three orgasms in your bed before you begin thinking again.

.

.

.

[bossbtch1]

Against All Odds

The GIF is not mine; credit goes to the respective artist/creator.

Summary : You recently joined the Avengers, and everyone has accepted you except for Bucky. Now, the challenge lies in proving him wrong, but can you succeed changing his mind and earn his trust? Or do you have to do more to earn it? (geez, I’m suck at this)

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (No mentions of body type or ethnicity other than the reader being female)

TW: SMUT, 18+, strong language, enemies-to-lovers-ish, oral (m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, degradation (slut calling), slight choking, orgasm denial

Word Count: Around 10k (I know it's a bit long, I got carried away. Sorry) → smut is like 4k hehe

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing a story, and it’s a smut one at that. English isn't my first language, so apologies for any mistakes or bad grammar. I hope you still enjoy the story!

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

If you like my story, please go check out my other stories here

These are the aesthetic for part 1 (solely for visual representation of what going to happen on the story, this meant no representation for body type or ethnicity)

You've always been a dependable agent ever since you were young, someone who could handle the toughest missions without letting your emotions get in the way. Nick Fury spotted your potential when you were just a kid, taking you under his wing. It was his belief in you that kept you going, and it all led to the thrilling moment when he thought it was time for you to join the Avengers. After all those years of hard work, it felt like a dream come true.

Then came your first day with the team. You'd just joined, and they wanted to see how good you were in a fight. You almost beat Natasha in a really intense battle, proving to everyone that you totally belonged with the Avengers. Your determination to show your worth never wavered. But there was this one guy, Bucky Barnes, who just couldn't seem to trust you no matter what.

On your first day with the Avengers, the training room buzzed with anticipation as you faced off against Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow. It was a test of your combat skills, a way to see if you had what it took to be part of Earth's mightiest heroes. The desire to become one of them, although it might sound cliché and cringey, burned within you.

The Avengers, including Nick Fury, Captain America, Iron Man, Winter Soldier, Hawkeye and Thor, watched from up above, all curious and eager to see how you'd do. Their faces showed they were rooting for you.

However, as you glanced upward to catch your breath, your eyes locked onto Bucky Barnes. He stood there, solitary and stern, arms crossed over his chest. His intense gaze bore into you, but unlike the other Avengers, his expression was far from encouraging. There was a deep skepticism in his eyes, a doubt that seemed unshakable, and it cast a shadow over your determination to prove yourself to the team.

Natasha, dressed in her familiar black outfit, gave you a serious look that made you stop staring up. When she spoke, you turned your attention to her. "Think you've got this, newbie?" she teased, a touch of amusement in her voice.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. This was your moment to prove yourself, and there was no turning back. The weight of your new Avengers uniform felt both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. "I'm ready, Natasha.", you responded with determination. You weren't going to back down now.

Natasha grinned. "We'll see about that."

The two of you circled each other, and then, without warning, Natasha lunged at you with lightning speed. Her attack was quick and precise, but you were able to block it, thanks to your training. As the two of you sparred, the crowd cheered and shouted their support. It was a battle of wits and willpower, and neither of you was willing to give up.

"You're good," Natasha admitted, her voice dripping with genuine admiration. "But let's see how you handle this." With a fluid motion, she unleashed a series of acrobatic moves, flipping and twisting through the air before landing gracefully behind you.

You spun around to face her, sweat beading on your forehead. "Impressive, but I'm not done yet."

The fight continued, and you pushed yourself to keep up with Natasha's relentless assault. Your training and instincts kicked in, and you began to hold your own. It was a back-and-forth battle, each of you landing hits and dodging the other's attacks.

But Natasha was more experienced than you, and eventually, she managed to overpower you. She had you pinned to the ground, her face inches away from yours. You struggled against her grip, but she held you firmly in place. "Had enough?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gritting your teeth, you mustered all the determination you had left. "Not a chance," you replied, refusing to admit defeat.

The crowd went wild as Natasha delivered the final blow, knocking you out. She stood there, victorious, a small smile playing on her lips acknowledging your impressive performance. "Good fight," she said, extending a hand to help you up.

You accepted her hand, "Thanks, Natasha. You're incredible."

The room erupted in applause, and everyone from the observation deck descended to congratulate you. Fury, wearing a proud smile, gave you a warm hug. "Well done, Y/N. You're officially part of the team," he declared, his words filled with pride. He whispered, "I'm proud of you, Y/N," and it meant the world to you.

But amid the celebration with your new teammates, there was one person who didn't seem as thrilled. James "Bucky" Barnes, the Winter Soldier, stood in a quiet corner of the room, his expression inscrutable.

You had felt his presence throughout the entire match, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine. Bucky's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then he turned and left the room, leaving you feeling more confused than ever.

Bucky went out of his way to undermine your confidence, pushing you to the brink of quitting time and time again. His words still fresh in your mind. "I don't think you're cut out for this, kid. This isn't a game. It's a matter of life and death. You’re not ready for this."

It hurt. You didn't understand why he was so determined to bring you down. What had you done to make him dislike you so much? Despite Bucky's relentless doubts, you refused to back down. You were determined to earn his respect, just as you had with the rest of the team.

So, every day, you trained harder, pushed yourself further, and proved your worth on every mission. Your hope was that one day, Bucky would finally see you for the capable agent you truly were and put his doubts to rest once and for all.

One day, as you were making your way to the gym, the sound of voices caught your attention. It was Bucky and Steve, engaged in a hushed conversation that seemed to revolve around you. Curiosity piqued, you tried to maintain a discreet distance, keen on hearing what they were saying. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but you couldn't help yourself.

"Buck, I think you're being too hard on her. She's a good fighter and she's eager to learn," Steve argued.

Bucky's skepticism remained unshaken. "I'm just trying to watch out for the team. She's a liability, not ready for this kind of responsibility."

Steve being the optimist pushed back gently, his support for you evident in his tone. "I think you're the only one who feels that way."

Bucky's voice grew firmer as he explained his perspective. "She's only here 'cause Nick Fury vouched for her. There are others who deserve this chance more. I could name a couple who'd fit better on this team than her."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, casting doubt on your worthiness. It was difficult to hear that the person you looked up to and wanted to prove yourself to was actually against you, even though Bucky's argument was valid.

You couldn't help but question if your acceptance into the Avengers was indeed solely because of Fury. You had always believed that your spot on the Avengers was earned through your skills and dedication. Bucky's doubts made you second-guess if you had truly earned your place.

"Buck, there's more to it than that," Steve replied, his voice steady. "Just be patient with her."

Unable to endure the conversation any longer, your heart felt heavy as you turned away, doing your best to conceal the hurt that washed over your face. With resolve, you changed your course and headed towards the field track, hoping a run would help clear your mind.

Later, as the sun set on the horizon, you were still out running laps. Your thoughts were racing, and your body was aching, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

"You're gonna wear yourself out if you keep pushing like that."

You jumped, startled by the sudden voice. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Bucky standing a few feet away, his arms crossed.

Caught off guard, you tried to put on a brave face. "I'm okay," you lied, attempting to hide the pain that was clearly etched on your face. Stopping abruptly had caused your feet to throb with discomfort.

Bucky, however, wasn't buying your façade. He narrowed his eyes, his concern deepening. "You're not. You're hurt."

In response, you shook your head stubbornly, your pride urging you to push through the pain. "I'll manage," you insisted, even though every step sent a sharp twinge through your feet.

Bucky's gaze remained sharp and unwavering. "You're not fooling anyone with that."

Deep down, you knew he was right. The pain was becoming harder to ignore, and your stubbornness could only take you so far. But in that moment, you weren't quite ready to admit defeat or show weakness, especially not to someone like Bucky.

Bucky took a step closer, his expression resolute. "Come on, we're heading inside," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I'm okay, I can-." You began to protest, but he interrupted you firmly, "Y/N, enough. This is an order. You're only making my job more difficult by trying to tough it out. Let's go, and I don't want to hear another word from you."

Reluctantly, you fell silent and went along with Bucky, allowing him to guide you back to the facility. As you walked, you couldn't help but mull over his earlier words, "You're making my job harder by trying to tough it out." It left you wondering why he cared or felt responsible for you, especially when you believed he disliked you.

Once inside, Bucky seated you and fetched a glass of water. Taking a sip, you felt a wave of relief as it helped ease some of your fatigue. Then, without uttering a word, Bucky briefly stepped away, returning in less than a minute with bandages and medicine in hand.

Your curiosity got the best of you, and you couldn't resist asking, "What's all that for?" Your eyes were drawn to the medical supplies.

"Take off your shoes and socks," Bucky directed, his tone brooking no dissent.

"I don't think I need..." You began to protest, but a quick glance at Bucky's determined face made it clear that there was no room for discussion.

Letting out a sigh, you gave in and removed your shoes and socks. What you saw shocked you: your feet were in a terrible state, bleeding and covered with painful blisters, a clear result of your overly enthusiastic run.

You heard Bucky mutter a curse under his breath as he knelt down in front of you. "Bucky, seriously, I can handle it," you tried to protest, but he wasn't having any of it.

"Just stay put and let me take care of this." His voice was firm, and he got to work tending to your battered feet. Gently, he placed your feet on his lap, starting to clean the cuts on your soles. You winced slightly as the sting of the alcohol met the open wounds.

While he busied himself tending to your injuries, you found your gaze drifting to him. Bucky was undeniably handsome and hot, you couldn't help but appreciate his appearance. As your eyes met his, he suddenly looked up at you.

"Got something on your mind?" he asked, his expression as enigmatic as ever.

You blinked, realizing that you'd been staring. Heat crept into your cheeks as you stammered, "I, uh, have an issue with my shoes." You finally managed to say, though it wasn't exactly the eloquent response you'd hoped for.

Bucky, his expression unamused, retorted, "Well, that's clear." After he finished bandaging your wounds, he added, "But there's more to it than just your shoes."

"You can't be out here, pushing yourself so hard if you're going to injure yourself. This isn't a game. You must take care of yourself. You can't expect to get the full experience if you're going to hurt yourself." His words were harsh, but they were true.

"I know," you admitted with a sigh, guilt gnawing at you. "I just got caught up and lost track of time. It's not that bad."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Not that bad?" He challenged you. "Then stand up. Let's see how not that bad it really is."

Your cheeks burned. You could already feel the ache in your legs and the throbbing pain in your feet. But you refused to show any weakness. Not now. Not in front of him.

"Fine." With a determined look, you pushed yourself up from the chair, wincing as you put weight on your injured soles. Your feet stung, and your muscles were sore, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through it.

Bucky couldn't help but scoff, clearly frustrated with your stubbornness and tendency to challenge him.  "You want to be part of this team, right?"

You nodded, your determination unwavering despite the discomfort. "Yeah, I do.”

"Then you need to stop being reckless and start acting like an Avenger. We can't afford to have someone on our team who's too stubborn to admit when they're injured. It's only gonna make things worse." he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "Maybe you could start by, I don't know, following orders and not talking back every chance you get."

The harshness in his words took you by surprise, but they also cut deep. Because you knew he was right.

With that he left the room, leaving you behind to wallow in shame. You knew he was right. But it hurt, especially coming from him.

Weeks later, you received the news that you'd be joining the team on your very first mission. The excitement bubbled up inside you as you geared up for the assignment. But as the mission unfolded, things took a turn for the worse.

You spotted a group of enemies heading for a crowded area and impulsively decided to engage them without waiting for the team's signal or support. Your intentions were to protect the civilians, but your recklessness got the best of you. Your impulsive move led to a chaotic firefight, and in the midst of the chaos, a civilian stumbled into the line of fire, narrowly escaping harm.

Bucky, who had been keeping an eye on you, witnessed the entire sequence of events unfold. His anger and frustration boiled over as he watched you put not only yourself but also innocent bystanders in danger.

Inside the quinjet, as the mission concluded, he couldn't contain his fury any longer. "What the fuck was that, Y/N?!" he erupted, his voice echoing in the confined space.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame and regret.

"Sorry isn't good enough!" Bucky snapped, his intense gaze burning into you. You couldn't bear to meet his eyes, and instead, you cast your gaze downward, your hands trembling with the weight of your mistake.

"If you're gonna keep making mistakes like that, then maybe you don't belong on this team. You could've gotten someone killed back there." His words stung, but he was right.

Natasha stepped in to defend you, "Bucky, it was an accident, and it was her first mission. Everyone makes mistake.”

Bucky didn't back down. "Yeah, and accidents can cost lives, Nat. She need to be more careful," he retorted, glaring back at you. "You can't afford to be an idiot like that out there. What the fuck is wrong with you?" He yelled, his anger getting the best of him.

Clint said, "Hey! Enough. She's done enough of a beating already, I know she can do better next time."

"There might not be a next time," Bucky grumbled.

Confusion and worry welled up inside you. 'What do you mean by that?' you wondered silently, unable to find your voice.

Bucky's frustration boiled over as he remarked, "Maybe she should think twice about putting others at risk if she can't handle it."

You turned your gaze away, determined not to let the tears fall. Tony took charge of the situation, his voice steady and reassuring. "Alright, that's enough," Tony declared firmly. "We're all on edge right now after what happened. We all know she can do better, and we'll address it later. For now, let's just concentrate on getting back home."

The rest of the ride was filled with tension, Bucky's glare never leaving you as you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Wanda noticed your discomfort and moved over to sit next to you. She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and asked gently, "How are you holding up?"

You appreciated Wanda's concern and gave her a small, grateful smile. "I'll be okay," you replied softly. "Just need some time to process everything. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed."

Wanda patted your shoulder again, offering more comfort. "Mistakes are part of learning, especially on your first mission. Remember, the key is to learn from them and get better. Don't let Bucky's words get to you too much."

You let out a weary sigh, realizing the truth in her words. "Yeah, I know.”

The quinjet touched down on the landing pad, and a sense of relief washed over you as you realized you were finally back home. This was it. You were finally home. "We'll talk later, okay?" Wanda asked, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You nodded appreciatively at her and quickly made your way to your room. You wanted nothing more than to lock yourself away and forget the whole thing ever happened. But the guilt and shame were too much to bear.

About a month after the incident, news of another mission started to circulate rapidly around the Avengers' headquarters. The buzz of excitement and anticipation filled the air, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions—both excitement and anxiety. This mission was your chance to redeem yourself after the missteps on your first assignment.

Determined to discuss your readiness for this new mission, you sought out Steve. As you approached his office, you noticed him engrossed in reading some files. You gently knocked on the open door.

"Hi Steve, may I come in?" you asked politely.

Steve looked up from the files and offered you a welcoming smile. He promptly closed the documents and gestured for you to enter. "Of course, come in Y/N." You stepped into his office, and he continued, "How are you doing, by the way?" Steve motioned for you to take a seat, showing genuine concern.

You settled into the chair across from him and fidgeted with your fingers, trying to find the right words. "I'm good, better than what happened last time..." You paused, your voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry about last time..."

Steve's warm smile remained reassuring. "Hey, Y/N, that's okay. We all make mistakes," he said with a reassuring tone, "Don't beat yourself up too much about it, okay?" His kindness and understanding were a comfort, making you feel grateful for his leadership and support.

"So, what brings you here?" Steve asked with a welcoming smile.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "I heard there's another mission in 2 days..." After a pause, you continued, "But I haven't received the assignment or briefing for it..."

Steve's friendly expression faltered, and he sighed. "Y/N, about that..." He looked genuinely conflicted. "We already have teams assigned to cover that mission. You don't need to worry about it."

Your heart sank, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It was becoming increasingly clear that you were being sidelined. "Is this because of what happened on the last mission?" You finally voiced your concern, your tone a mix of frustration and hurt.

Steve must've noticed the change in your tone. "Y/N, there'll be plenty of missions, and you'll definitely join the next one, okay?"

You took a deep breath and forced a smile, masking the pain that was gnawing at you. "Ah, okay, Steve." You chuckled, though it felt forced. "That's alright, I was just curious.”

Steve smiled weakly, but you could tell he understood your disappointment. "Y/N..."

You got up from the seat, disappointment heavy in your chest. You knew this was likely Bucky's doing. "Thank you, Captain, for the information. Good luck on the mission!" With that, you turned and left the room, trying to hide your frustration and disappointment.

As everyone prepared to leave for the mission, they bid you farewell, their expressions filled with sympathy. You knew they felt sorry for leaving you behind in the tower. Watching them depart filled you with a profound sense of sadness, knowing you couldn't join them.

You returned to your room, aimlessly flipping through the channels on the TV, but nothing captured your interest. Your mind kept wandering back to the missed opportunity, and the guilt and frustration gnawed at you.

After a futile attempt at watching TV, you tried to occupy yourself with a book, but the words on the pages blurred together as your thoughts remained fixated on the mission. With a sigh, you put the book down, realizing you were too distracted to read.

Restlessly, you paced around your room, contemplating various ways to improve your skills and prove that you were a valuable member of the team. Maybe you could spend some time in the training room or review combat strategies. You knew you had to keep pushing yourself to become better.

Eventually, you settled on the idea of practicing your marksmanship in the training room. Grabbing your gear, you headed there with determination in your step, determined to make the most of your time while the team was away on the mission.

Inside the gym, you started with some intense punching and kicking exercises. It felt great to release your anger, sadness, and disappointment through physical exertion. As you pummeled the sandbag, you couldn't help but imagine it as Bucky's face, channeling your frustration and resentment into each punch and kick. You unleashed your emotions on the inanimate object, giving it your all to cope with the overwhelming mix of feelings inside you.

Sweat dripped down your face, mixing with the occasional tear, but you didn't let up. You wiped away the sweat and tears from your face. "What" punch "Do" punch "I" kick "Have" punch "To" kick "Do" punch "To" punch "Prove" punch "To" punch "You" kick "That" kick "I'm" punch "Just" kick "As" kick "Good" kick "As" punch "Them" punch kick punch kick.

Why were you treated this way? What had you done to earn Bucky's disdain? How could you prove your worth to him? Frustration boiled inside you, reaching its peak as you let out a guttural scream, causing the sandbag to plummet from the force of your final blow.

Panting, you collapsed on the gym floor, you were exhausted and emotionally drained, but you felt a strange sense of relief. You clenched and unclenching your fists. You flexed your fingers and winced as the pain shot through them.

You chose to ignore the pain and you slowly got up from the gym floor. You knew you had pushed yourself too hard, but it was the only way you could vent your frustration and anger.

Limping, you made your way towards the bench where you had left your belongings. The room felt heavy with the echo of your pounding. Your trembling hand found the familiar coolness of your water bottle, and you clutched it tightly, taking a long, refreshing gulp. The cool liquid soothed your parched throat.

Just as you were catching your breath, Bucky unexpectedly strolled into the room. His presence surprised you, you hadn't expected anyone else to be there, especially not him.

His gaze, sharp and perceptive, honed in on your movements, "Still trying to prove yourself, huh?" he remarked, his words hanging in the air like a challenge, his tone laced with doubt.

You met his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down even in the face of his skepticism. "I don't need to prove anything to anyone, including you," you replied, your voice steady despite the ache in your body. "I'm just making sure I'm ready for whatever comes our way. Maybe you should worry less about what I'm doing and more about why you're not on the mission with the rest of the team."

Bucky's expression remained inscrutable, his indifference a stark contrast to your determination. He nonchalantly shrugged, an aloof response to your pointed words.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you couldn't help but roll your eyes, your frustration with him boiling over. "Whatever, Barnes. Keep your doubts to yourself."

You began packing up your belongings, a clear signal that you were ready to depart from his presence. You suspected he was still watching you, his intense gaze never wavering, but you wanted nothing more than to distance yourself from him. It felt like he was deliberately keeping you from the mission, and the resentment simmered within you.

After finishing packing, you headed towards the exit, but Bucky halted you by grabbing your hand. You turned around, irritation clear in your eyes. "What do you want, Barnes?" you snapped, trying to pull your hand away. “What the hell? Let me go!”

Ignoring your protest, he led you back to the training area, placing you in front of him. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach. Did he intend to spar with you? The uncertainty hung heavily in the air, making the atmosphere tense.

You stood your ground, your nervousness growing with every passing second. "What? Scared?" Bucky teased, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, refusing to let his taunts unnerve you. You managed a fake smile and replied, "Of you? No. Why would I be?" Determined not to show any fear.

Bucky's smirk widened as he said, "Well, you should be." He locked eyes with you and asked, "Ready?" The challenge in his tone was clear.

You took another deep breath, squared your shoulders, and met his gaze head-on. "Alright, Bucky. I'm game. What's the plan?" Your voice remained steady, even as your nerves continued to buzz beneath the surface.

Bucky's lips curved into a smirk. He motioned towards the training mats, his movements smooth and practiced. "Just try to land a hit on me."

Without a moment's warning, he lunged at you, his attack swift and precise. You barely managed to block it in time, the impact sending a jolt through your arms.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you felt a sting to your pride. "Just one hit?" you questioned, a mixture of disbelief and defiance in your voice. Did he genuinely doubt your abilities? Determination flared in your eyes as you prepared to prove him wrong.

He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Don't get ahead of yourself, doll. Come on, you're starting to bore me." You gritted your teeth and launched into your counterattack.

The atmosphere in the training room grew tense as you continued your attempts to land a hit on Bucky. Each time you launched an attack, he seemed to anticipate your every move, effortlessly blocking your punches and kicks. It was as if he had an innate ability to read your intentions, and it left you feeling frustrated and somewhat helpless.

With each failed attempt, Bucky's smirk grew wider, and he let out a low chuckle. "Come on, Y/N," he taunted, his tone dripping with playful mockery. "You've got to do better than that if you want to stand a chance."

His words stung, and they fueled your determination. You were well aware that Bucky was pushing your buttons, trying to rile you up, but you refused to let it show. You had a point to prove, not only to him but to yourself as well.

You decided to take another shot, launching into a new round of attacks, hoping to catch Bucky off guard. But just like before, he expertly caught your wrist each time, preventing your strikes from connecting. Frustration gnawed at you, and you let out an audible groan each time he effortlessly pinned your arms behind your back and pushed you back.

Bucky didn't hold back with his taunts either. "Is that the best you've got, doll?" he prodded, his gaze locked onto yours. "I've seen other recruits do better. What happened to all those praises they were singing about you?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried to surprise him with a sudden kick, but Bucky saw through your move. He even managed to catch your legs mid-kick, causing you to lose your balance and tumble to the ground.

His voice dripped with mock disappointment as he quipped, "Doll, I expected better than that. That was just plain bad."

You took a deep breath, frustration fueling your determination. This time, you decided to go all out. You lunged at him with full force, no holding back, hoping to land a solid hit. His dodge and blocks were frustratingly precise, but you didn't give in.

Finally, you managed to back him into a wall, and you saw an opening. You went for a powerful kick, but he swiftly caught your leg, pulling it towards him. Before you knew it, you were pinned against the wall, your front pressed firmly against the hard surface.

"Doll, nice try," Bucky said, his tone edged with approval, "but you've still got long ways to go."

You groaned as he pinned you to the wall, frustrated since you couldn't beat him. "Fuck!"

He chuckled lowly, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his face mere inches from yours. "Language, sweetheart."

The feeling of his body pressed against yours sent tingles down your spine, and you tried to keep your breathing under control, your cheeks flushing.

Bucky seemed to notice your blush and couldn't resist a teasing remark. He leaned in even closer, his voice dripping with playful mischief. “What's the matter, doll? Is it too hot in here?" he teased, pressing himself closer to you.

Your blush deepened as he teased you, and you turned your head away from him, not able to meet his gaze. "You know what? You're seriously annoying."

Bucky's smile only grew wider, and he didn't let up. "Aw, come on, doll. Getting all worked up because you can't keep up?" he goaded, his warm breath tickling your neck. His face was even closer now, his eyes dark with a look you'd never seen before.

You huffed in exasperation, determined not to let his teasing get the best of you. "I can keep up just fine, thank you very much," you shot back, your competitive spirit coming to the forefront.

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. "Well then," he challenged, his tone inviting. "Prove it. Try to break free from my hold."

Your breath caught in your throat at the suggestion, a rush of adrenaline surging through your veins. "Okay," you agreed, your tone confident. You decided to take Bucky's challenge head-on.

With a swift and calculated move, you attempted to break free from his hold, using all the skills you had acquired during your training with the Avengers. Bucky, ever the skilled fighter, didn't make it easy, but you were determined not to give in.

You tried and tried, but you couldn't seem to break free from his strong hold. You were both sweating, the effort causing the air around you to grow thicker and heavier. You could feel his chest pressed against your body, muscles flexing as he maintained the firm grip he had on you.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you were both breathing heavily, neither of you willing to give in. In that moment, with your bodies pressed together and the heat between you almost unbearable, something changed. You felt his hold on you loosen slightly, and you took the opportunity to spin around, pinning him to the wall.

A surprised chuckle escaped his lips, clearly caught off guard by your sudden move. His eyes, filled with desire, locked onto yours, and the tension between you seemed to reach a boiling point.

You couldn't help but smirk as you managed to gain the upper hand, "Huh, I wi-" But before you could finish, he swiftly turned the tables, pinning you back against the wall.

He chuckled, his voice low and husky. "Not quite, doll." He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Never let your guard down until you know your opponent is truly defeated," he whispered, his voice low.

You gasped, feeling the cool metal of his arm pressing against your skin. "You were saying?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear.

You bit your lip, feeling the tension between you reach a fever pitch. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Never let your guard down until you know your opponent is truly defeated," he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

Your frustration bubbled up, and you couldn't help but shake your head in response. "That's not fair!" you protested, your voice tinged with exasperation. "I managed to break free from your hold. Doesn't that count for something?"

He chuckled, "Not it doesn't. You've still got a lot to learn. I could've easily gotten the upper hand on you again. The moment you let your guard down is the moment you lose the fight."

You clenched your jaw and stared into his blue eyes, not backing down from his challenge. "Okay enough with the taunting. I'm not afraid of you, Barnes."

His lips were so close, you could feel his breath against your skin. "You should be, doll," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

A moment passed between the two of you, and then, as if a dam had broken, he kissed you hard, it made you surprised, you gasped on his mouth and felt his tongue exploring you.

Your heart was pounding, the excitement building as you kissed him back. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as the heat between you grew.

"God, Y/N," he groaned against your mouth. His metal hand reached for your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pressed you harder against the wall, his hips grinding against yours. You moaned at the friction, feeling your body responding to his touch.

The training room was forgotten as the two of you gave in to your desires, the heat between you driving you both wild. You knew it was a bad idea, but in that moment, you didn't care. All that mattered was the pleasure, the heat, the intensity of it all.

"Bucky..." You panted, feeling his lips and teeth exploring your neck, his tongue licking you, tasting you.

The sound of his name on your lips sent him over the edge, and he couldn't hold back anymore. His hands found their way under your yoga pants, gripping your ass. He bit down on your lip, drawing a small moan from you. You could feel him smile into the kiss.

"Fuck, doll. You like this? Me fucking you against the wall?" he groaned against your mouth.

You nodded, unable to form any coherent words. “Tell me, do you want more?"

"Yes," you breathed, your body trembling with need.

"Tell me," he ordered, his voice husky with desire.

"I want you, Bucky…. please."

"Beg for it," he growled, his hands moving to the front of your yoga pants. He tugged them down, the cold air hitting your wet core, his hand quickly finding its way between your thighs. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Fuck, doll," he muttered, his fingers slipping into your panties, finding your wetness. "So fucking wet for me.” His fingers slid inside you, making you gasp, your hips bucking against him. "Is this what you want, doll?"

"Yes!" you cried out, your hands grasping at his shirt, trying to pull him closer. "Please," you moaned, your hips bucking against his.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, making you writhe and moan beneath him. "Such a good girl," he murmured, his free hand coming up to grip your breast. He groped you hard, squeezing and massaging you through your sports bra.

"Put your hands up," he commanded, pulling his fingers out of you. You complied, your hands reaching above your head. He pulled up your bra, exposing your breasts to him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. You moaned, your hips bucking against him as he sucked and nibbled on your breasts.

"So responsive," he chuckled, his hand reaching between your legs once again, his fingers dipping into your wetness. "Such a wet little girl. You're dripping for me."

"You like this?" He growled, his fingers rubbing your clit, his thumb sliding up and down your slick folds. He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine, "Tell me were you already wet when we started sparring? Did you want me to pin you against the wall? To fuck you hard?"

You couldn't respond, the pleasure was too much. You were teetering on the edge, ready to fall over at any moment. "Please, Bucky..." you gasped, your hips grinding against his hand, desperately seeking release.

"You're a naughty girl, aren't you? You want me to fuck you, right here, in the training room, where anyone could walk in and see us?"

He was right, you didn't even think of that possibility. You shook your head, "No.. of course not... it's just the heat of the moment... It's just... we're alone right now."

"You sure about that, doll? Cause I'm pretty sure I heard someone walk by a few minutes ago. What if it was Clint? Or worse, what if it was Fury? I bet he would love to see this. His little protégé, getting fucked by the Winter Soldier."

You froze, your eyes wide.

"You know what?" He chuckled, "Let's put on a show for them. Let them watch. Let them see how you beg and scream for me."

“Cat’s got your tongue doll? Where are all the firey comebacks now? Nothing to say?” Your mind was in a state of shock. You tried to think, who was it? But Bucky was stroking you at a relentless pace, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.  

"You want me to make you cum, doll? To make you scream my name?"

"Yes," you panted, you didn’t care anymore, all you wanted was release. Your body trembling as he drove you closer to the edge.

He reached up, gripping your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "I've wanted to fuck your attitude out of you ever since you came to the compound, doll,” he said, his voice husky with lust. "Watching you fight, all that fire, all that passion, it makes me so fucking hard. You have no idea how many times I've wanted to take you right here, to show you who's in control."

You couldn't take it anymore, the pleasure building, "I'm so close... Bucky," you moaned. You were so close, and he was taking you to new heights. You couldn't stop yourself, you could feel yourself losing control.

"Yeah I can tell, you're tightening around my fingers. Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me? Beg for it, and maybe I'll let you," he teased, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, faster and faster, sending you over the edge.

"Please, Bucky..." you cried, your hips bucking against his hand.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and you whined in frustration. "What the hell, Barnes?”

"Now, now," he tsked, his fingers trailing down your stomach, and stopping at your hip. "You don't get to come until I say so, doll," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous.

"But, please, I'm so close," you begged, the frustration almost unbearable.

"I know, but you need to learn who's in charge, and it's not you," he said, his fingers tracing circles around your clit, making you moan. "You have to obey my orders, Y/N."

"What the fuck, Barnes!" You screamed at him feeling angry at how he toyed with you. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He grabbed your hair and pulled it down making you winched in pain, "What did you fucking say to me?" He grabbed it harder when you didn’t answer him.

"Ouch." You winced in pain.

Bucky's eyes darkened and he tightened his grip. “First, you need to watch that mouth of yours." He was breathing heavily, his voice rough and commanding. "Or I'm going to shove my dick in it and put you in your place." he warned, his hand moving to grip your hair, forcing you to look up at him.

You gulped down at his threat. There was no mistaking the promise in his voice, but your pussy clenched at the thought of taking him into your mouth.  

"Second," he continued, his grip loosening slightly. "You need to learn that you don't get to question my orders, doll. You're going to be a good girl and listen."

You stared at him, unable to speak. He was serious.

"Answer me Y/N or I will leave you here, frustrated and wanting more," He threatened.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, his dominance and authority turning you on even more.

"Yes please, I'll obey," you said, your voice shaking slightly.

"Good girl, that’s more like it," he murmured, his metal hand coming up to caress your cheek. Bucky leaned closer and kissed your lips, his tongue sliding inside your mouth. He was sucking on your tongue and nibbling on your lips, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of your mouth. He kissed your cheek and moved down to your neck.

"Now, where are we?" He asked, his fingers back on your clit, rubbing in slow, agonizing circles. He was torturing you, teasing you.

He smiled wickedly, his hand moving from your clit and slipping inside you. He pushed two fingers inside your core and began pumping them. He started moving his hand faster and faster, the sound of his fingers sliding in and out filling the air.

You wanted to scream and yell at him, but you were unable to speak, the pleasure and the need for release overwhelming. You were panting and moaning, your eyes closed shut as you were trying not to come.

"Not yet." he growled. He pushed a third fingers inside your core and began pumping them. He started moving his hand faster and faster, the sound of his fingers sliding in and out filling the air.

"Beg," he commanded, his voice firm.

"Please, please, please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"Louder," he ordered.

"Please!" you whimpered, the desire and need taking over. "Please, Bucky, fuck my pussy and let me come," you begged. You felt your inside tightening, you need to come right now.

Bucky leaned closer and kissed you again, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth, exploring every inch. He moaned into your mouth, his fingers still pumping into you, his thumb circling your clit. "No," he said, and your eyes snapped open, meeting his blue ones. He smirked, seeing that you were close. "If you come before I tell you, I will punish you, doll."

Your eyes widened and your whole body shook with fear.

"Do you understand?" He asked, his fingers slowly pumping inside you.

"Yes, yes, I understand."

He chuckled, "You're a needy little slut, aren't you? You'd beg for my cock too, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," you moaned, the word falling from your lips without a second thought. "Please, Bucky, I need to come. I need your cock inside me, fucking me hard and fast," you begged, the words tumbling from your lips.

"That's a good girl," he murmured, his fingers picking up their pace. "You're gonna cum for me now, doll. You're gonna cum all over my fingers, and then, when you've recovered, you're gonna get on your knees and suck my cock. And when I'm ready, I'm gonna fuck you, and I'm gonna make you scream my name."

You moaned loudly as his fingers brought you closer to the edge, his words sending a thrill through you.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, doll? Having my cock buried deep inside you, fucking you senseless?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you panted, the pleasure building. He added another finger and curled them inside you, hitting your g-spot, and you gasped.

"That's it, Y/N," he groaned, his fingers moving faster. "Come for me. Let me hear you."

"I... I'm gonna..." you moaned, the pleasure building in your body. You couldn't hold back any longer, the pleasure overwhelming you,

"Come now!," he ordered his fingers working even faster, and suddenly, you exploded.

"BUCKY!" You screamed, your body shaking violently as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your body was trembling, and your juices were flowing freely down his fingers

"Such a good girl," he praised, his fingers slowing, drawing out the last of your orgasm, licking them clean. “Delicious," he murmured.

You panted, your body still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. He lowered you to the floor, your legs shaky from the intense pleasure.

Bucky chuckled, seeing the confusion on your face. "Don't worry, doll," he said, leaning down and kissing you. "We're just getting started."

"On your knees," he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

Your knees trembled and you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated with lust. You could see his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You did as you were told, dropping to your knees. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, and you obeyed. "Suck my cock." His voice firm and authoritative

Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you watched him slowly unzip his pants, his thick, hard cock springing free. You stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him. The serum must did something to him, as his member was definitely bigger than any man you'd seen before.

"Now," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. "Don't be shy," he coaxed, his eyes dark with lust.

You slowly reached up and grasped his thick shaft in your hand, feeling the hot, smooth skin, marveling at the size of him. You felt a jolt of excitement run through your body as you stroked his length, feeling him twitch in your hand. You could feel yourself growing wet as you continued to stroke his cock, his member growing even harder under your touch.

His fingers tangling in your hair  "Now, put my cock in your pretty mouth, doll," he said, his voice thick with desire.

You lowered your head and opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. You licked the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it, tasting his salty pre-cum. He groaned, his hips bucking as you took more of his cock into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down.

You hummed around him, the vibration making him moan. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots as you worked your mouth up and down his shaft, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You felt a surge of pleasure run through your body as you sucked his cock, loving the taste and feel of him in your mouth. You could feel his grip tightening on your hair as you continued to suck him, your tongue dancing along his length.

You didn't have any practice beforehand, but you are naturally gifted hearing praises, such as "Mmm, that's it.”, "Just like that.", “Fuck, you are good.” and the way his thighs trembled beside your ears were a tell-tale sign that you were doing great.

"You look so good like this," he moaned, his hand holding onto the back of your head, guiding your mouth over his cock. "I've imagined you sucking me off before."

His words made you moan around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

"You're taking my cock so well, like you were made for it."

You whimpered around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat once again. The feeling of his cock throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him, and the way he praised you were pushing you closer to the edge.

"God, your mouth feels so fucking good," he moaned, his hips thrusting as he fucked your mouth. "Such a good little slut, aren't you, doll?"

You felt your pussy clench at his words, your arousal growing with every stroke of his cock. You bobbed your head faster, taking him deeper into your mouth, loving the sounds of his moans.

His fingers tugged at your hair, the pain and pleasure mixing together to send another rush of pleasure through your body. You moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his cock, causing him to thrust deeper into your mouth.

You whimpered, your eyes watering as he pounded into your mouth. You could barely breathe, his thick cock stretching your throat as he fucked your mouth. Your pussy throbbed, your arousal coating your thighs as he mouth-fucked you.

"Oh yeah, you love this, don't you?" He groaned. "You love choking on my cock." As he thrust his cock into your mouth, his hands travelled to your breast, squeezing them hard, making you moan.

He groaned as you continued to suck, his grip on your hair tightening, the pain sending another wave of pleasure through your body. He was fucking your mouth ruthless, the wet slurping sounds were the only sound in the room. And the sounds he was making was almost enough to make you cum.

It became harder to breath with each stroke of his cock meeting the back of your throat, tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, the pain and pleasure mixing together.

He looked down at you, the sight of your mouth around his cock was almost enough to make him cum. He pulled out of your mouth with a loud pop, leaving you gasping for breath and tears running down your face.

"Look at you, what a mess you are," he smirked, his eyes raking over your body. "You're such a dirty girl, aren't you?"

You felt your face flush, his words making your pussy ache with need. You whimpered, the need to be filled by his cock becoming unbearable.

"Do you want me to fuck you, doll? Do you want me to fuck you so hard, you can't walk tomorrow?"

You moaned, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes, please," you begged, your voice hoarse. "Please, fuck me, Bucky." You couldn’t think straight, you had no filter, you were just saying whatever came to mind.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back. "Say it," he growled, his eyes dark and dangerous.

"Please, Bucky," you said, your voice pleading.

"Try better than that," he said, his voice firm.

"Please fuck me, Sergeant," you whimpered, your voice laced with desperation. "Please fuck me hard and fast until I can't walk. Please use me however you want."

He smiled wickedly. "Your words, not mine. Be careful for what you wish for, doll."

He shoved you onto the floor, his body looming over you. "On the floor. On all fours now," he ordered, his voice stern and commanding.

You scrambled to comply, getting onto your hands and knees. Your heart racing as he positioned himself behind you.

"Spread your legs," he said, and you complied.

He knelt behind you, his hands roaming over your body, caressing your skin. You could feel his hands on your hips, his cock rubbing against your wetness.

"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you, Y/N?" He whispered, his voice low and husky.

You stayed quiet waiting for him. "I'm gonna make you scream and beg for me, I'm gonna make you forget everything, except my name."

His words sent a shiver through your body, his tone full of dominance and power.

"And when I'm done with you, you'll never forget me, Y/N. You'll always remember me, remember the way I made you feel."

You could feel his hardness pressing against your entrance, teasing you, tormenting you. His hands running over your ass. "But I'm not gonna go easy on you. You understand?"

"Yes," you moaned, your voice breathy. "I understand."

"Good girl," he said, and with that, he pushed his cock inside of you, filling you completely. You cried out, your body quivering as he stretched you. "Such a tight little cunt," he groaned, his hips snapping against you, his cock buried deep inside of you. "So fucking perfect."

You cried out, the pain and pleasure mixing together.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He started to move, his pace slow and steady, his cock stretching you with each thrust.

"Oh god," you moaned, your voice echoing in the room.

"You like that, Y/N?" As he slammed his cock into you, his voice full of lust.

"Yes," you moaned, the sensation driving you wild.

"That's right, doll, take my cock," he growled, his fingers digging into your hips. "Take all of it." He was rough, his pace fast and unforgiving, his cock filling you to the brim with every thrust. You cried out, the pleasure and pain mingling into a sweet symphony.

You moaned, your body shaking as he fucked you. He was pounding into you, his cock hitting all the right spots. Your body was on fire, your mind lost in a haze of lust and desire. "Who's pussy is this?," He asked.

"It's yours," you gasped, your body trembling.

"Say it again," he commanded, his thrusts growing faster and harder.

"It's yours," you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Fucking right it is," he growled, his voice low and husky.

He was pounding into you, his pace relentless. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the smell of sex hanging heavy in the air.

He yanked your hair, forcing your head back and you whimpered. He kissed you, his tongue invading your mouth. His teeth dug into your bottom lip, making you moan.

"Who's a dirty little slut?" He demanded, his hips slapping against yours.

"Me," you gasped, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm a dirty little slut, Bucky."

"That's right," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "You're my dirty little slut, and I'm gonna fucking ruin you. You’re fucking mine."

Your body trembled, your muscles tensing as his cock slammed into you. You could feel the pleasure building, the pressure mounting inside of you. You were so close, and you needed him to finish you off. "Oh god, I’m so close," you begged, your voice desperate and needy.

"Not yet," he snarled, his grip on your hair tightening. "You'll cum when I say so, and not a moment before."

"Please," you begged, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. "Please let me cum, Bucky."

"Soon, doll," he promised, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Very soon." He knew you almost came and he decided to torture you further when his fingers finding your clit and he pressed down hard.

You cried out, the pleasure and pain becoming too much. "Oh god," you whimpered, your body trembling. "Please, I can't take it."

He slammed his cock into you, his balls slapping against your clit. "Yes, you can," he growled. "And you will."

You whimpered, the pressure inside of you reaching a breaking point. "Bucky, please please please," you begged, the pleasure threatening to consume you.

"Now," he commanded, his voice harsh and commanding. "Cum for me, doll."

You cried out, the pleasure exploding throughout your body. Your walls clenched around his cock, your muscles spasming. Your mind went blank, the world around you fading away. Your body was shaking uncontrollably as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hips snapping against you, his cock pounding into you.

You were exhausted, your body drained of energy. He continued to fuck you, his pace slowing slightly.

He slapped your ass, the sting of his hand sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "Such a good little slut," he growled, his hips slamming against yours. "Taking my cock so well."

"Bucky," you moaned, the pleasure building once again. "Please, I can't take anymore."

"Yes, you can," he said, his voice low and husky. He slapped your ass again, harder this time. "You're going to cum for me again, doll."

"No," you protested weakly, your body trembling with exhaustion.

“Yes," he growled, his thrusts becoming more intense. "You will." His metal hand sliding up your stomach, between your breasts, and around your throat.

Your body arched, pushing your hips further onto his cock. The sound of his ragged breaths mixed with yours as you both raced towards your climaxes. "I'm close, Y/N. So fucking close."

His hands pinched your nipples, sending another shock of pleasure through your body. He sucked on them, the sensation almost too much for you. You whimpered, his lips capturing yours again. Your tongues swirled around each other, tasting, devouring.

His cock slid in and out of you, his pace quickening. His moans and growls echoed around you as his orgasm neared. He was so close. So was you.

"Please, Bucky," you begged, your pussy clenching around his length.

He tightened his grip on your throat and slammed his hips into yours. His free hand slid down to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles over it. His eyes meeting yours. his hips slapping against yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.

"Cum with me, doll. Don't close your eyes. I want to see those pretty eyes as you come apart."

Your entire body shuddered, his command sending you over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his length, milking him of his seed. Your body trembled, your muscles spasming as you rode out the waves of ecstasy. His breath becoming ragged as his own release neared.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips slapping against you. "Your cunt is so fucking perfect."

"God, yes," you moaned, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you.

He slammed into you, his pace becoming erratic as he neared his release. "Oh god," he moaned, his hips snapping against yours. "I'm gonna cum."

"Yes, Bucky. Cum inside me," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your words were enough to send him over the edge.

He growled, his grip on your hair tightening as he pounded into you, his cock filling you completely. He groaned as he cum, his body shuddering as his release washed over him.

"That's right," he groaned, his body going limp. "Take all of it." You felt him twitch inside of you, his hot release spilling into you.

You slumped forward, your body spent as it slick with sweat and cum.  You could hear Bucky panting behind you, his chest heaving. You rested your forehead against the floor, trying to catch your breath. You had never been fucked so thoroughly in your life. Your muscles were sore and tired, your pussy throbbing.

Bucky was still inside of you, his cock softening. He pulled out, his cum spilling out of you. You could feel his cum leaking from your pussy, dripping down your thighs. "Look at that," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a pretty sight." He slid a finger between your folds, collecting the sticky mess, then he pushed it back inside you. You let out a small whimper as he slowly pumped it in and out.

Bucky turned you around, your head falling back against the floor. His face hovered above yours, his blue eyes burning with lust. He looked down at you, before he could say anything, you both heard footsteps approaching.

You were panicking as someone could see you in such state, strangely, Bucky seemed unfazed, his expression steady despite the unexpected interruption. Then the next thing made your heart skipped as you heard the doorknob turning. You could only pray the ground to swallow you whole.

Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed the story! Apologies if the ending didn't meet your expectations, I'm considering a Part 2, but I'd love to hear your thoughts. I'm open to any feedback for improvement. Your input means a lot.

If you want to see more, please show your support by leaving a like. Thank you for taking the time to read!

A/N : Thank you so much for the kind replies and support! I'm really glad you enjoy the story, you have no idea how much that motivate me to continue writing. Please stay tune for part 2! Love youuuu xx

[astarionancuntnin]

Undisclosed Desires (Chapter 2)

summary: its the day after you and astarion indulged in each other's embrace. it shouldve been a once done deal, nothing more, but that last night ended with you questioning your feelings for the pale elf. you struggle to come to terms with those and the day might prove more difficult as you get trapped alone with him in a secluded dungeon

or in short:

rating: E

word count: 4k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, sorceress tav)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with little-to-no plot, karlach gets hurt for the sake of the porn (shes doing her part o7), denial of feelings, sexual tension through the roof, dom!tav/reader, teasing, dry humping, begging, ear licking, vampire bites, kinda praise kink, sorta breeding kink, your honor- theyre both brat switches fighting to top the other.

a/n: at long last, chapter 2! i had so much fun with the dialogues, i hope you enjoy them as much as i did uwu. also, inspo song at the beginning is the same as chapter 1, but a different part of the song, and end of chapter song is a different one (that i linked at the end). let me know how you feel about the dynamic in this chapter 👀

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I shut my eyes

You call but I just cut the line

I know your style

I know that you want one more night

And I'm backsliding

Into this just one more time

-

You wake up this morning to the sound of your companions talking nearby. Instinctively, you reach for the spot next to you, only to find it empty. Figures. If it wasn’t for the aching pain in your muscles and the dizziness of your mind, you’d think what happened last night was just a dream.

The way Astarion had ravaged your body, how feral he was, the taste of him on your lips, how he felt between your legs…

Instinctively, you rub your thighs together, chasing the feeling from the previous night. You already feel that warmth between your legs as a result of those memories flooding back to you. You hear laughing outside your tent and it brings you back to the present moment ; your companions are probably waiting for you.

You quickly push aside any thoughts of him and reach for your clothes to get dressed up for the day. You take some time to prepare for what your companions have to say about the sounds that came from your tent last night. They had to have heard.

As you take your first step outside, Karlach is the first to greet you.

“Hey Soldier! Slept well? Doubt it was restful but it looks like you had the time of your life!” She nudges you.

“You can say that again! Those screams made me believe she was dying in there!” Shadowheart shouts, sitting near the campfire, before her and Karlach start laughing.

You feel yourself turn redder after each remark. Hells, I didn’t realize how loud I was.

“It did sound… intense. Are you sure you’re alright?” Wyll speaks up, more worried about you.

You lift your blushing face which was hiding in shame between your hands. “Oh, yeah no, I’m fine just- um,” you turn to Shadowheart, “Can I ask you to cast lesser restoration on me, please?”

She looks at you puzzled, “Can’t you cast it on yourself?”

“The only thing I wanna cast on myself at this very moment is eldritch blast, now, can you please cast the damn spell?”

“So much for the ‘great sorceress with limitless talents’,” she mocks you, reminding you of the very words you used back when you introduced yourself to her.

“SHADOW.”

“Fine, fine,” she scoots over the log, making space for you. “Come here, I’ll take care of you.”

You walk over to her and you sigh as you sit down, completely slouched over.

“Gods, he really did a number on you, huh,” she casts lesser restoration and you straighten up, instantly feeling much better. 

“Yeah, you should see the other guy,” you say, smiling, proud to have gained back your wits.

“Speaking of,” Wyll interjects. “We haven’t seen him all morning. We fully expected him to come out of your tent.”

“Huh, I did wake up alone,” you confess. “I just assumed he went back to his tent.”

“Heh! Maybe he’s still in there recuperating from your night together!” Karlach shouts, before laughing some more.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go check up on him,” you roll your eyes as you get up to walk towards his tent.

You’re glad it’s placed far enough from the campfire to be out of your friend’s sights. You didn’t want to give them more ideas if they saw you with the vampire this morning. You call out his name before opening the flap of his tent, only to reveal it to be empty. 

“Looking for something?”

You slightly jump, as if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have, and quickly turn around to face him.

“Gods, you startled me.”

He walks towards you, shirtless, with his hair still damp from his morning bathing and his trousers hanging loosely around his hips.

“Terribly sorry dear, I would never do this to you intentionally.”

His little smile is unnerving. Your heartbeat quickens, and you frown at yourself; You can’t allow yourself to falter this early in the day. You take a deep breath, your way to gain back control over yourself. 

“We’re almost ready to leave, so I came looking for you,” you try to look elsewhere but you’re mesmerized by his sight.

“Well, here I am now. Can I… help you with something?”

He raises his hand and strokes your cheek gently with the back of it, his face dangerously getting near yours. You feel your face burning hotter and it takes everything in you to push yourself away from him.

“We should really go, just– get dressed. I’ll uh, I’ll wait for you around the campfire with the others.”

You turn around completely flustered and walk back to your companions.

“Again?!” Karlach exclaims as she sees the state you’re in. “At this rate, you’ll turn redder than me!”

You wanna crawl into the depths of the hells and never come back up.

—

Today’s quest brings you to a secluded dungeon. Your findings from the previous days led you there in search for more information about an artifact you previously found throughout your adventure. If you’re correct, you should find here what’s missing for it to work. Now the only thing left to do is actually finding that missing piece.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Astarion opens the door to the lower grounds. As the door opens, you’re greeted by damp air and a musty smell. The place is dusty and covered in spiderwebs. Whatever you’re looking for must be here judging by the fact that no one has been down here in ages. You all walk in and notice that the place is a damned maze filled with countless rooms. You split up from the group, starting the search on your own, and the first room you walk in greets you with an absurdly obvious trap. You sigh, discouraged, as you fall back against the wall next to the entrance. Guess I won’t be able to avoid him much longer.

“Astarion? A hand?!” Your voice echoes through the hallways, followed by the sound of his footsteps.

He makes his way towards you nonchalantly, “You called, dear?”

“Can you take care of this?” You point towards the device.

He leans over you, his arms caging you between him and the wall, “I could, if you were to ask nicely.” His face hovers dangerously close to you, you can feel his cold breaths ghosting over your lips. It would be so easy to just tilt your head up and close the gap… No, you can’t let him win this. Last night was just a mutual agreement. An exchange of sorts. Nothing more, nothing less.

You cross your arms over your chest, creating some distance between the two of you, “Don’t push your luck.”

“Oh well, I assume you know how to deal with such an intricate mechanism then, if you’re so much better than I am?”, he wears his typical shit-eating grin.

You roll your eyes and step over your pride, “Fine. Can you please disarm this trap so we can carry on?” 

“See? Now, was that so hard?” He gives you a playful look before getting to work.

You stand next to him as he fickles with the machinery when you hear a loud commotion from afar.

“FUCK!”

You recognize the voice from your fiery friend and waste no time running towards the source of her scream, only to find her in a terrible state with Shadowheart kneeling next to her. Her leg is barely recognizable. Whatever got her rendered her unable to fight from now on.

“What happened?!”

“Godsdamned trap got me, shit!” She keeps groaning in pain.

“Alright, Shadowheart, do you think you can take care of her wounds?”

“I can stabilize her, but she won’t be able to carry on with her injuries, we need to head back to camp as soon as possible so I can tend to her,” she explains.

“Okay, okay,” your eyes wander between your friends as you’re thinking of a solution. “Yeah, okay, you’re right, I’m not risking Karlach’s life on this,” the cleric nods in agreement, “But we can’t back track now. Who knows what else this trap triggered, it might’ve alarmed someone. We are so close to finding the answer, I can't risk letting it slip past us.”

Shadowheart raises as she’s about to argue but you cut her off, “Don’t worry, I still believe you two should head to the camp. Astarion and I will carry on.” You feel Shadowheart’s glare of disapproval. “I swear we’ll be careful and we’ll run back to you guys should we encounter a situation that's too much for us.” You try to reassure your friend.

“Oooooooo, keeping Fangs all to yourself?” Karlach never missed an opportunity to tease you, even when in insufferable pain. You could respect that.

“Oh please, if it were up to me, he would be the one in that trap.”

“Rude,” Astarion remarks from behind you. You can’t help the smirk creeping up on your face.

“Fine,” the half-elf frowns in resignation. “We’ll head back– but don’t do anything stupid.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Astarion adds sarcastically, as the two walk away.

With half of your party gone, you lose no time continuing your research. You didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary with half the manpower in unknown territory. You pass a few halls and rooms, each containing an absurd amount of traps for what little they were hiding, slowly getting discouraged from your lack of findings, when you hear rumble afar.

You both still, listening to the sounds, when you realize they are making their way towards you. 

“Hide!”, you barely whisper.

Before he can react, you roughly drag Astarion with you in the next open room and slam the door behind you. You acted faster than you could think ; the sound of the door was loud and the footsteps are now getting faster and louder. You try to remain calm to avoid drawing any more attention than necessary when you see the expression change on your companion’s face, followed by him yelling.

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with–!”

You don’t give him time to finish his sentence as you push him against the stone wall by his waist with the force of your whole body, while your other hand covers his mouth. You stare intensely into his eyes and mouth a “shh”, as silent as you can, to convey the urgency for him to shut up as the rumble of the footsteps get even closer to your location. He blinks rapidly and nods, understanding your motion, but brings his hand up to remove yours from his mouth. You hear the footsteps stop nearby and your heart pounding in your chest as your breathing stills. Your eyes dart towards the door, anxiety building up in your chest. Anything could be outside. You cannot risk getting into a fight you couldn’t handle. Against his own good, Astarion speaks up yet again.

“Let’s just kill–”

And you shut him up, again. 

This time, with a kiss.

It’s a surprise to both of you. It was sudden, instinctive. You’re not sure what took over you, but at this moment, it seemed to be the best course of action. You stay motionless for a moment before pulling away, slowly. You hear the sounds outside your room getting further away and you finally breathe out in relief. He looks at you with an annoying smile painted over his face.

You notice him observing you. “You really need to learn when to shut up,” you say, a poor excuse to try and justify your actions, as a blush takes place over your cheeks.

His lidded eyes observe your lips before making eye contact again, “And you think you know better?”

“I know I do,” you frown slightly. 

He keeps smiling, that damn annoyingly confident smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to teach me, then. I’ve been known to be awfully loud.”

You scoff. The audacity of this man.

Initially, that first kiss was never supposed to lead to anything else. It was spontaneous, a means to an end, just like your last night spent together. Anything to stop him from talking, whatever would save you from being found. But you couldn’t deny the feelings that fluttered in your stomach, the butterflies in your chest. 

He continues, his words dripping with sarcasm, “I’m sure a sorceress of your expertise must have some way to silence a noisy rogue like myself.”

You realize then : all along, you didn’t hate him, you hated the fact that you were attracted to him, to that damn attitude of his. Truth is, you couldn’t have enough of that banter between the two of you. Every morning, that was the thing you were looking forward to. There was no denying yourself anymore ; you chased the feeling of arguing with this overblown, pretentious asshole. You wanted him, in more ways than one, and in any way he would offer himself to you.

“I can think of a few tricks,” you lean over him the same way he did you earlier, your faces barely an inch apart.

“Try me,” his voice is barely a whisper by now.

You let your feelings guide your next move as you pull him in by the collar of his armor, crashing your lips against his. If he saw this as a game, you intended to win. As the kiss depends, you’re taken back to that scenario you played in your head the night before, prior to Astarion’s visit.

At the next corner, you would’ve pushed him by the waist against the nearest wall and shut his pretty mouth up. 

Your kiss started out rough, but it quickly became passionate, it engulfed both of you into a world of your own. His hands roamed up your back and down your waist, pulling you in closer, reaching for more contact. Your sorcerer robe allowed for you to feel how tightly he grabbed you and yet, it didn’t feel like enough. You wished for nothing more than having your skin being ravished by his touch.

You would’ve taken the chance to let one of your hands roam through his silky smooth, curly hair, pulling it enough to get a moan out of him. 

Oh, and how soft it was. Freshly washed from this morning, his curls felt like silk through your fingers. You let your hands linger in his hair, combing through it, before lightly pulling it back. He groans in your mouth as a response, not parting from your lips just yet, and you smile through it.

How you would’ve parted his legs with your own, and grinded against his crotch, feeling his growing bulge.

You easily push yourself between his legs and grind against him. He pulls back from your kiss then, gasping in surprise. With the threat outside the room being long gone, you welcomed any noise you would get out of him. You feel his cock getting harder against your leg and you keep rubbing him up and down, creating more pressure over his member. He rests his head on your shoulder, breathing hard, his hold on you getting tighter. 

“Hells, darling, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he pants.

“Mmh, seems like I’ve got a lot more to teach you then.”

You reach for your trousers under your robe, letting them fall down after loosening  your belt, before reaching for his, pulling them down just low enough to expose his cock which is already leaking with pre-come. He hisses when you grab a hold of him, your mere touch sending shivers down his spine.

You smirk at the visible reaction he has to you, feeling powerful over him. Such a contrast compared to your last night tryst. This time, you were guiding this dance.

You guide him towards your entrance, only to grind yourself over him. He slides so easily between your wet folds and you can’t help the moan escaping your lips. The friction over your clit is nothing short of euphoric. You swing your hips back and forth, coating his length with your arousal, as he holds onto your waist for dear life. You grab his face and pull him closer so your foreheads touch, then take a moment to admire the mess you’re making of him, and by the Gods, what a pretty mess he was. His parted lips, gasping between each stroke you would allow him, his eyes fluttering open, lost in the feeling of your thighs squeezing him, his roughed up curls from the sweat building up on his forehead. 

He was beautiful.

You feel him moving on his own, trying to change positions so he has more control, but it's not something you will allow this time. You take his hands from your waist and push them against the wall he was leaning against, never stopping the rhythm you had going on. 

“What do you think you're doing?” Your voice is coated with desire.

“Please, let me in,” he begs.

“Do you think you deserve it?”, you say, playfully.

“Gods, I– yes, yes I do!”, he whines.

“Beg more.”

“What?! I will not–”, before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his ear with your tongue and give it a lick from the base to the tip. “Mmmgh ah, fuck–” 

“What was that?” You nibble on his ear.

“I– Ah–,” his entire resolve crumbles. “Please, love, I need you please,”  he begs again, his voice faltering.

You continue to lick and nibble on his ear. “See? Now, was that so hard?” you tease, using his own words against him.

“Oh, you little– ah–!”

You cut him off as you raise your leg to hook it to his hips allowing you for a better angle as you push him inside you slowly. You’re so wet from teasing him that he slides in without any resistance.

You throw your head back, taking in the feeling of him filling you, and at the vision of your exposed neck, Astarion leans in the crook of your neck, bared fangs scratching the spot he previously fed from you. You feel his cold breath along with the wetness of his tongue, lapping at your healed wound. You sense what he wants to do and although you crave it and you would let him do it, you don’t wanna give in so easily.

You stop all motion and with him buried deep inside of you, your hand lingering in his hair grabs a handful of curls to pull him back, away from your prized neck, holding him in place. 

He growls insistently, his true nature coming back to him.

“Give me one good reason,” you tug harder.

Through his ragged breath, he smiles playfully, “I just wanted a snack for the road.”

“You drank last night, you don’t need it,” your tone comes out raspy and aggressive despite your enjoyment of the situation.

“But you want this,” he pauses, watching your reaction. Your answer isn’t spoken, as much as it’s seen : your chest rises higher with each panting breath you take, your eyes flutter, drunk on lust, and your core is dripping wet, your combined fluids leaking against your leg. “Don't you?” He knows both of you know it's a fight for control. 

You thrust roughly, once, to reassert your position over him, making him whimper. “And just what makes you think that?”

He locks eyes with you, a grin painting over his face. “You seemed to enjoy it last time.”

“Hardly.”

“My dear, you can deny it all you want, but I can read you like an open book.”

You hated how he always managed to have the last word. One day, you tell yourself, It’ll be me. But for now…

“Shut up and bite me.”

The second you let go of your grasp in his hair, Astarion dives in the nook of your neck, plunging his fangs in your pulsating vein. You cry out at the sharp sting you feel and once the initial pain settles in, you pick back up the rhythm you had earlier, making the elf groan as he drinks you in. He was right, his bites had the effect of an aphrodisiac on you. You would never tell him though, his ego was inflated enough as is, admitting it would only make him more insufferable than he already is.

His hold on you became tighter and the more he drank, the less your strength allowed you to keep your position, but the build up down your stomach only grew. You didn't want to falter so close to the end.

“Astarion…” you warn him.

He growls against your neck and takes one last sip of your liquid gold before removing his fangs from you, licking off the new wound he created to clean you up. That's something else you could appreciate from the vampire ; no matter how selfish you found him, he did seem to respect the boundaries you established. He would absolutely push all of your buttons but when it came to sex he seemed more attentive, responsive. You never wanted to fall for him, but your heart had other plans.

You cross your arms around his neck, closing any remaining distance between your two bodies and with all the energy left in you, you thrust harder, and faster, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming feeling he provided between your legs. Now that you had experienced him once, you craved getting filled up by him, only him, as much as possible, as much as he wanted to. You wanted to be his. 

“Darling, I’m close–”

“Come, let go for me,” you breathe in his ear before licking him again. “You’re so pretty when you come inside me.”

Your last words combined with the stimulation you’ve given him trigger his collapse in your arms. He grasps your hips vigorously, pulling you flush against him, allowing him to unload himself deep inside of your womb. You fall over the edge shortly after, drinking in the feeling of his semen filling you up. You fantasized constantly about being filled to the brim by him. Used over and over again, leaking from his seed, the act merely done to defile you in his image. You clench around his length, your legs shaking as you picture yourself overflowing with his come and ride out the wave of electrifying pleasure that courses through you.

As you come down from your high and let your leg down, you reach for something to grab a hold of so as to not completely fall over. Astarion had completely slouched over the wall you fucked him over, he was not an option. The nearest thing that seemed solid enough was an empty torch holder placed right next to the door which you grab without second thoughts. The last thing you expected was for it to pull down as you grabbed it. Even less that it opened a secret trap door in the middle of the room, from which a pillar came out of. You stay in place for a moment, piecing together what just happened, with Astarion making eye contact with you, just as puzzled as you were.

Before you now stands an altar with a very clearly placed piece of dark metal, shaped strangely like the pattern you remember being described in the previous document you found. You put your trousers back on, dismissing the mess between your legs, and grab the missing piece, connecting it to the artifact you held, to see it click in place.

“No fucking way.”

Astarion smirks, as if he was responsible for your discovery, proud of himself, “Wouldn’t have found that out with Karlach now, would you?”

He will never let you live this down.

-

When you're around me, I'm radioactive

My blood is burning, radioactive

I'm turning radioactive

My blood is radioactive

My heart is nuclear

Love is all that I fear

[syd-djarin]

Treat Me Like A Slut - jack "whiskey" daniels x f!reader

warnings: explicit 18+. *MDNI*

a/n: I got the title of this from the Kim Petras song with the same name. It inspired the filth below.

y'all already know by now my sister in smut @katiexpunk helped me flesh out deets & all that. couldn't do it without you bestie babe. <3

word count: 4k+

summary: Jack returns home from a mission. You have a surprise and a request for him.

tags:  Jack calls reader a slut multiple times (at her request), masturbation (m and f), size kink, unprotected P in V, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, orgasm denial, codewords, dom/sub dynamic, pet names for reader (sugar, baby, sweet girl, kitten), reader calls Jack cowboy, references to Jack being a trained killer, reader buys and wears lingerie, established relationship, brief mention of anal play, Creampie !!!!, no physical descriptions of reader, excessive use of Daddy, rough sex, ankle biting, toe sucking, a whip gets mentioned, size kink, spanking, one (1) titty slap, Jack has some funny lines in this one, bruising, and finally Jack is just a menace in this one – sweet and kinky AF.

smut after the cut.

Jack hates jerking off. 

Well, he hates jerking off when he could have you. Nothing can replicate the feeling of your lips on his cock or being buried deep inside your pussy. He fucks his cock in his fist anyway, not that he has much of an option at the moment. Sweet, salacious memories of you flood his brain as he tries to melt deeper into the mattress and he attempts to forget the past few weeks. This mission has been long and drawn out; time he would rather spend with you. 

You’ve been dating for three months now and can’t stay away from each other. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Jack wants to constantly be in your orbit. When he first asked you on a date, you both agreed to take it slow. “I don’t wanna pressure you, sugar,” he said, and you had agreed that slow is good. You quickly learned that neither you, nor Jack, know the concept of the word. Your first date turned into an entire weekend together. Once he had sampled a taste of your sweetness, there was no going back. 

It’s been an agonizing week for Jack. He’s always had a flair for the dramatics, but you can hear it in the tone of his voice that he isn’t exaggerating when he says this week has nearly killed him. Sure, being a Statesman is dangerous and he flirts with death on the daily, but being away from you? He’d rather be given the Old Yeller treatment than to have to be without you. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he moans, taking a final few tugs at the silky smooth skin of his hard shaft before cum erupts out of him and onto his toned belly. “Fuck,” he says, letting out a long sigh, hand still on how pulsing cock as he stares at the ceiling wishing you were here to lick the spend off of him. 

***

You were able to keep yourself busy and enjoy your alone time at first, but as the week went on, you became more impatient. Needy. 

Tonight, your apartment feels smaller than usual, the air thicker, as you pace back and forth across the hardwood floor. The book you had been engrossed in lay forgotten on the coffee table, its characters suspended in a world you couldn’t quite bring yourself to re-enter. Your mind was too focused on Jack. 

You check your phone for the umpteenth time, the minutes ticking by at an excruciatingly slow pace. The silence in the apartment echoes the restlessness in you. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach, a want, a need, a feeling of unease. 

An orgasm might help, you think, but no matter how hard you try, your methods of self-pleasure never seem to fully satiate you. Sure, you’ve made yourself come a dozen times this week, but it’s not the same. You’re spoiled now; Jack’s expert hands, mouth, and god his cock have taken your pleasure threshold to new heights. He’s given you the best orgasms of your life, and now what you’re able to accomplish on your own is slightly abysmal. It’s infuriating or splendid, you can’t decide which, that he seems to know your body more than you do. 

Despite knowing it won’t help, the siren call of your cunt wins over.  As you lay on your shared bed, engulfed in the smell of his cologne still clinging to the pillowcases, the faint buzz of your vibrator and your sweet little sounds that drive Jack crazy add new noise to the silence. You imagine Jack and the slow, tantalizing drag of his cock in and out of you as you fold like a house of cards letting the aftershocks of your orgasm lull you to sleep. 

Just one more day until he’s home. 

***

The first light of morning filters through the curtains, kissing the room in a soft glow, you stir from your slumber. You let out a big good morning stretch, and clear the sleep from your eyes. As you sit up, the duvet cascades from your shoulders and you take a moment to bask in the quiet beauty of the morning. Today’s the day. 

The list of things you have to do before your cowboy comes home already starts running through your mind like the end credits of a movie, and you spring out of bed and get ready for the day. 

As you stroll through the downtown area, with only one bag in hand, you just so happen to walk by a lingerie store. Call it chance or fate, but the sexy tight number in the window catches your attention. 

“Hey there sweet pea, what brings you in today?” the older woman greets you as you walk through the doors to the shop. She doesn’t particularly fit the vibe of the store, but her presence is a bit disarming. Of course, you’d shopped for lingerie before, but always online and never in person, so you’re a tad nervous. 

“Oh, hi – uh, well I was just out running some errands,” you say, slightly lifting your bag as if to signal this isn’t planned before continuing, “the piece in the corner caught my eye, would it be possible to try it on?” you ask, your eyes dropping to the floor as you tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Oh sure, honey, that’s a gorgeous one!” You smile and give her your size, and she tells you to look around the shop for anything else you might like to try on. You grab a handful and she leads you to the dressing room, telling you her name is Darla and to holler if you need any different sizes. 

You save your favorite, the one from the window, for last. As you slip into the ensemble, the fabric feels luxe against your skin. It’s a lacy, scarlet red babydoll with a thong to match. You admire yourself in the mirror, letting your palms playfully dance over your curves. Any nervousness you feel walking into the store is slowly replaced with a new sense of confidence. Lost in the fantasy of how he’ll respond, there’s a little flutter in your stomach. 

“How’s it going in there? Need any help with the laces?” Darla asks. You’re not sure if it’s in her job description to be so kind to her customers, but you like her. 

“Great – I, I think I found the one,” you say, opening the curtain to let her finish fastening you into the fabric. 

“Oh honey, you’re a knockout,” she says, and you feel your skin warm at the compliment. “Your man’s in for a real treat.” 

Yeah. He really is. 

***

Once home, the hours seem to pass by slower than molasses, as Jack would say. 

You decide to take an ‘everything’ shower to kill time and to compliment your new purchase. You have the time, so you decide to go the full nine; you put on a hair mask, exfoliate, shave, and gua sha your face. You giggle as you remember Jack watching you do it once, except he couldn’t say ‘gua sha’ correctly, mispronouncing the ‘gua’ as ‘goo’. 

You moisturize your body in your favorite body butter, the one that Jack thinks smells delicious, and paint your nails to match the lacy number you’ll be donning this evening. Pampering yourself like this, giving yourself the self-care you’ve been needing, amplifies the arousal that’s been brewing all day. 

You illuminate the room with a warm flicker of candles, their soft glow creating an ambiance to the room around you while the dulcet tones of your favorite vinyl grace the air at a low volume. You slip into your red number and put the finishing touches on your look as you admire yourself in the mirror. You look hot, and you know it. 

You’re ready to pounce on Jack as soon as he walks in. 

Suddenly, the unmistakable jingle of his keys in the lock alerts you that he’s finally home. You hear the little creak of the door as he pushes it open, and then the commanding cadence of his boot-clad footsteps, a sound you could identify any day. You feel a buzz course through your body at your excitement as you take your place on the bed. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Jack echoes through the entryway. 

“In here!” you respond, throwing your voice in his direction. 

As Jack swings open the bedroom door, his jaw practically descends to the floor in sheer astonishment, his bag meeting the ground with a resounding thud. A stunned silence envelops the room, his dark brown eyes riveted on you, unblinking and filled with an intensity that leaves him momentarily speechless, while a palpable hunger reflects in his watering mouth.

Holy. Fuck. 

“Hi baby, I missed you,” you purr, your eyes locked on his, as you crawl on all fours like a tigress to her prey to finish greeting him, “did you miss me?” you ask, all flirt and no question in your voice, rising to your knees on the mattress to give him a better look at your body. 

He must have died and this is heaven. There’s no other explanation for the beauty that is you before him. 

He approaches you, his broad hands finding your hips as you interlace your fingers behind his neck. With his body pressed against you, you can already feel his rock-hard cock twitching in his tight, nearly painted-on jeans. 

“You have no idea…” he growls in the nape of your neck before pulling away to eye you in a ravenous manner that makes your heartbeat in your pussy. 

One of his hands leaves your side, and he reaches up to angle your chin towards him. He looks you in the eyes in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, his eyes saying all of the things his mouth isn’t. He smiles at you for a moment before he leans in and plants his lips on yours. He begins to kiss you languidly, and you both let out soft moans in unison at being in each other’s presence again. His groomed mustache tickles your lips, making you giggle into his mouth. 

He pulls back, fiddling with the hem of the baby doll. “You wear this just for me?” he asks, his warm hand splaying on your tummy.  

“Mhmm,” you respond, but it comes out sounding a little more like a moan than a reply. “I wanted to surprise you,” you confess while looking down at where his hand meets your stomach, “wanted to look sexy for you, Agent Whiskey,” you look back into his eyes, giving him a little wink, your allure calling out to him; snatching him up faster than any lasso ever could. 

Jack normally doesn’t like his work to bleed through to his personal life, but hearing your honeyed voice call him Agent Whiskey is enough to make him abandon all the rules. 

“Darlin’,  ya always look sexy to me, like a goddamn sex kitten,” he drawls, leaning in to plant tender kisses on your neck, his grazing his teeth over the soft skin of your neck. You giggle, playfully swatting at him. “‘M serious, you are divine,” he adds, divine coming out more like deevine.  

You may be the sex kitten in his eyes, but he’s the one lapping you up like a bowl of milk. His hands roam over the tight fabric that graces your body, and you get lost in the feel of his touch. His grip on you is tight, even though you’re fully pressed against him, he wants you closer. His need, his lust, awakens something carnal in you, causing you to lose control of your tongue as you all but word vomit, “Treat me like a slut.” Well, we probably could have eased into that conversation. 

He pulls back and eyes your face in disbelief –  this must be heaven – before a knowing smirk washes across his face. “Is that what you want, hmm? Want Daddy to get rough with ya, baby?” The hand that’s gripping the soft flesh of your hips begins to migrate down to your ass. 

You whimper; becoming putty-like in his hands, more than ready to worship at his altar. 

“Tell me, baby. Use your words like a big girl,” he urges, squeezing your ass with more force. 

“Yes, daddy,” you choke out, “I want you to be rough with me, please…please.” 

“My pretty girl wants me to treat her like a slut, then that’s what she’ll get,” He removes the hand on your hip, and the other from your ass, before guiding them to find yours. He interlocks your fingers together and looks at you a bit more seriously this time. You see the darkness that flickers behind his eyes. You know Jack is a dangerous man – a trained killer – but he’d never hurt you. No, this darkness is something different, it’s an insatiable desire to consume you in every way possible, to give you anything you desire.  

“Wanna set some rules first, ‘kay?” he says, his voice low. You nod. 

“If at any point you want me to stop, slow down, don’t like something, whatever, you tell me, alright? You remember our code word?” he asks, and you nod again. “Good. Now, you don’t get to touch me unless I tell ya to. You don’t get to come ‘til I tell ya to. Got it?”

“Yes, daddy, I understand,” you respond. He lets out another knowing smirk and palms himself through his jeans. 

“‘M gonna take good care of ya, baby girl. Now, you gonna show daddy what a good little slut you can be?” he asks. 

“Yes, daddy. Wanna be a good slut for you.”

You’re a little surprised at how quickly you slip into submission, although you shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to Jack. He’s a master at getting what he wants, and you’re not sure if there is anything that you wouldn’t do for him. 

“Good girl. Now, off the mattress and get on your knees,” he orders, already unbuckling his jeans to free his wicked big cock. 

You do as he says, feeling yourself sink your weight onto your shins and the coolness of the hardwood beneath you. “Open your mouth,” he says, his heavy cock in hand, stroking it to get it to full length. 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, patiently waiting for your next instructions.  

He continues to stroke himself, looking, admiring, the gift of a woman that sits before him. As he pumps himself, he takes a few steps forward so that he’s hovering above you. Your big doe eyes look up at him, and you’re drooling at the sight of him like you always have.  

His thumb ghosts over his red and weeping tip, and he uses it to collect the dribble of precum that has beaded through his slit to wet the tip of his cock.  He taps the mushroom head of it onto your tongue a few times, a sticky string of saliva trailing between him and your tongue with each lift before he eventually plants the tip fully in your mouth. Your lips lock around him, and you begin to moan, reveling in the heady taste of him. You want so badly to move, to take him deeper into your mouth, but he hasn’t told you to do so. He tangles one of his hands in your hair, firmly pulling; not too gentle, but not too rough, either. 

Jack slides your mouth off of him. He’s admiring your present state; spit and precum smeared across your mouth and down your chin, hair disheveled and your eyes delirious from lust. 

“Change of plans,” he says, offering no explanation as to why he’s suddenly depriving you of sucking him off. 

“Don’t worry ‘m gonna take of ya, like I always do,” he says, kicking off his boots and shucking the rest of his clothes to the floor, “hands and knees on the bed, baby.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. You’re clambering over yourself to follow directions, legs unsteady from your agonizing need. 

Jack drops to his knees behind you, takes his thick finger, and slips it into your crack, under the lacy string situated between your cheeks. He pulls back on the thin string and releases it, the snap causing a pleasant sting against your skin. 

“Soaking wet,” he hums, ‘always so fucking wet, you perfect girl,” he rasps,  running that same finger through your seam, along the drenched lace, causing you to whimper. “Who’s got you so wet, baby, hmm?” he asks, knowing the answer, he just wants to hear you say it.

He lands a light swat on your ass when you don’t answer him. It sends a shiver through your spine, more arousal dripping into your thong. 

“‘M not gonna ask you again. So tell me, who’s got your pretty pussy so wet, baby?” 

“You, Jack, always wet for you, only you,” each word comes out shaky, so aroused you might collapse if Jack doesn’t alleviate the ache soon, “Daddy, please,” you cry.

Kneading the flesh of your ass he grunts in approval. “S’right baby, you’re mine. All mine.”

Jack pulls the thong to the side, revealing your dripping cunt to him. He spits down, trailing from your asshole to your clit, your legs clench in response. You’re using all your might not to move. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him, after all, it is his job to notice things; even on the subtlest level. 

Ghosting a fingertip over your tight ring of muscle, rousing you, “You like it when I touch you like that? Touchin’ your other slutty lil hole?”

“Y-es, fuck,” gritting out through ragged breaths. He files that information for later, a smug grin plastered on his face. 

He swipes his tongue from your clit up your entrance. He moans in response to your taste like you’re the best dessert he’s ever had; you whimper from the spark of pleasure of the warmth of his tongue. He teases you a few more times by lightly skimming up and down, licking you from your clit down to your aching hole. You can’t help but squirm, rocking your hips back to meet his mouth, chasing your high. He smacks your ass again, a reminder to keep still. 

“Need more,” you whine pitifully, his grip on the back of your thighs is now ironclad, blocking you from gaining more stimulation that isn’t provided by him. 

He halts his movements and pulls his face away from your pussy, but still close enough that you can feel his hot breath when he speaks, “I know I don’t need’ta remind you to use your manners.” 

“Please, daddy, I need more, fuck, fuck, fuckkk!” you desperately cry.

“Good girl, askin’ so nicely,” punctuated by shoving a thick finger into your weeping entrance. 

Jack pumps his finger in and out at a steady pace, all while flicking his tongue across your throbbing clit. When he thinks you’re relaxed enough, he slips in a second finger, and the added sensation and drag against your soft walls has you barreling towards the edge of your orgasm. 

He can tell you’re close by the way your cunt grips down on him, tightening like a trap, one you never want him to leave. He slows his pace, edging you until you’re writhing in his grip.  “Daddy, please, please let me come,” you’re heaving, covered in a sheen of sweat. 

“My little slut gets to come when I tell her she can,” he torts. 

Once he senses you’re no longer as close to finishing as you were, he slowly picks up his tempo once more and the attention he places on your clit brings you right back to the boiling point. Your fingers card through his dark locks as you hang on to him for dear life, doing your best not to come without permission.

“J–Jaa-Jack,” you cry, “I can’t hold on much longer, I’m going to come, I need to come.” 

He wants to continue to edge you all night, but the growing ache from his neglected cock begins to get to him. As much as he wants to continue to devour you, his blood-filled shaft has other plans.

“Alright, you can come, let me hear you, pretty girl,” he whispers against your mound before his lips find their home around your clit, and his tongue begins to circle against it in just the right way. With his permission, you let out a sigh of relief; your orgasm washes over you like the ocean onto the shore, it’s loud and strong. 

Jack gathers the slick seeping out of you onto his fingers and sucks it off, his eyes fluttering shut as he savors the final taste of your release. “That’s finger lickin’ good, baby,” he says. You might feel inclined to cringe at that, but you’re too fucked out to mind, but a little giggle escapes your chest at the comment. Only Jack could find the perfect balance of vulgarity and humor. 

He drops both of his large palms to your thighs and begins to massage them with a soothing amount of pressure, grounding you through your floaty, blissed-out state, and it’s not before long that the need for more returns. He gently pecks soft kisses on your lower back, murmuring praises against your skin. Such a good girl, you did so good for me, my sweet and pretty girl. He’s sensual and sweet amidst the dominance he’s displaying, the duality makes your heart beat fast and your pussy flutter. 

He rises to stand and positions himself behind where you’re bent over. He strokes his heavy cock as he marvels at how good you look like this, bent over, ass up, just waiting to be stuffed full of him. He lines the tip of his cock up against your wet and waiting cunt to gather a little bit of your slick on the head of him before he begins gliding his cock up and down through your messy folds. The sensation on your somewhat sensitive clit makes you let out a small little whimper. 

“Want daddy to fuck you, pretty girl?” Just like before, he already knows the answer,  he just wants to hear you beg for it, beg for him. His ego is as big as his cock. His words are as much of a tease for him as they are for you; his resolve begins to crumble further with every moment he’s not buried to the hilt inside you. 

“Yes!” nodding your head despite the way it’s still spinning, “please—” 

“Think she can fit it,” he asks, not giving you a second to answer as he drives the length of him inside you with no restraint. Your body jolts forward on impact and he clutches your waist, pinning you in place. Both of you are unmoving, gasping to catch your breath as you adjust to his size. It’s a stretch every time and you delight in it. “Course she can, cuz my girl is a perfect little slut,” he says, dragging his cock in and out of you with ease as your wetness coats him.

‘Fuck, baby. You feel so good, it’s like this pussy was made for me, just fuck, just for me,” he says, willing himself to not bust inside of you already, but it’s hard.  Having you like this, at his mercy, coupled with the time he spent away from you, he’s shaking in his proverbial boots. 

You start to reach your hand behind you to hold onto his arm, but stop, remembering the rules. You don’t get to touch me unless I tell ya to. 

Jack beats you to the punch, “Go on, darlin’, grab hold’a daddy. You’re gonna need it.”

Just as soon as you wrap your hand around his forearm, he pulls almost out of you entirely before slamming back into you, the tip of his cock punches your cervix and you let out a little welp. The intensity of the relentless pace he has set has you breathless, keyed up, on the edge of another orgasm. He continues to fuck in and out of you, plowing into your pussy at a devastating pace; no mercy to be found. 

Lecherous sounds echo through the bedroom; Jack’s hips slapping against the flesh of your ass, the wet squelch of your pussy, guttural groans and whines. 

“Such a good fuckin’ slut for me, kitten… you take this cock so good, so fuckin’ tight, Jesus…” Jack rambles in between his thrusts. 

“Tell daddy how it feels,” he commands, landing a sharp smack against your ass. “Feels so good, daddy, mmm, feel so full,” you sputter,  an octave higher than you usually speak. 

“Yeah I know, baby girl,” he pulls out, manhandling you onto your back, jerking your legs over his shoulders before he slams back into you in a matter of seconds, the intensity of it causes your tits to bounce and Jack loves the sight of it. The angle has his cock punching your cervix brutally and deliciously. Your cunt grips him tighter as you watch the way his jaw goes slack as he pummels in and out of you. He can use you like this forever and you’d be fine with it. 

Jack turns his face to graze his teeth across your ankle, then bites the soft flesh, eliciting a yelp from you. The look in Jack’s eyes is voracious. He’ll never have enough of you. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he growls, gently slapping one of your tits through the cups of the babydoll to redirect your eyes into his. Locking eyes with one another while Jack ravages you has you hurling into another orgasm. 

“Fuck, I’m so close, daddy,” just shy of shouting. 

A cheeky grin breaks out on his face as if he’d gotten an idea just now. Jack lifts one of your legs off his shoulder and holds it steady, your foot now directly in front of his face. Without warning, he shoves your middle two toes into his mouth. 

“Jack!” You actually shout this time. A mix of surprise and bliss. 

“Scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar,” he teases, but admittedly, he loves seeing how loud he can get you to cry out his name. 

He runs his warm tongue along your ticklish toes and you’re done for. “Can I come daddy? I’m so fucking close, please I need to come…” panting like a dog in heat. 

“C’mon give it to me, pretty girl, gimme another and I’ll fill you up with my cum,” he encourages. He’s not far off from where you’re at. “Been such a good slut for me tonight, soak this fuckin’ cock…” 

He’s rutting into you with such great force, you know you’ll be sore tomorrow. That thought is the last push you needed; you’re clenching around Jack while you’re coming; entering a rapturous daze. 

“Oh fuck, Jack—fuck, ah!” mewling loudly. Your juices drip out of you onto his cock and the sheets. He loves how messy your pussy is. 

“That’s it baby, mmmm such a sweet mess you made for me…” cooing at you. 

He slows his speed way down, but keeps the thrusts deep, helping you ride out your second orgasm of the night. 

A few hard, deep, slow thrusts and Jack is spurting his spend in your pussy. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, baby,” halting his movements, resting his forehead against yours. The sticky sheen of sweat clings in the air; the distinctive smell of sex permeating the room.

He showers your face in tender kisses, leaving no patch of skin untouched. You adore the way Jack will fuck you within an inch of your life and will be caring and attentive afterwards. 

***

Both of you lie still tangled in each others’ arms, Jack breaks the silence, “Maybe I should leave more often,” in that post-sex-husky-raspy voice you love so much. 

“Nuh-uh, this week sucked without you. Leave for that long again and it’ll be you getting treated like a slut,” you taunt. You giggle uncontrollably, still under the effect of your climax. 

He puffs out an exhale of relief. He’s not convinced you have a dominant bone in your body until you reveal that you purchased something else in addition to the red number still lingering on your body. 

“You should see what else I bought,” you say, your voice suggestive enough to perk Jack’s ears up from his nearly fucked out comatose state. He opens one eye and looks at you with an inquisitive face. You let out a smirk, and jump up from the bed, a bounce in your step, as you walk over to the dresser across the room. 

Jack’s jaw actually falls to the floor this time when he watches you reveal a long, black, leather whip. 

“My turn, cowboy.” 

[gilverrwrites]

Probation ♥

Black Mask/M!Reader/Deathstroke, 4K words Commisioned piece for @vile-hearts Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, smoking, non-graphic mentions of crime/violence/death, arguing, face slapping, unprotected sex, burning, abuse of power (boss/employee), pre-established dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, collars, mild choking, name calling, denial, unsanitary cum eating, spit (but not in a kinky way). They're both assholes. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT >> Reader is described as moderately fit/strong and having dark hair. <<

The air in Roman’s office is cold. Cold enough to send a shiver down your exposed spine and throw off your balance. Fortunately, you manage to keep your grip on the drinks tray, preventing it from falling. Unfortunately, Roman still notices your near faux pas and offers you a curt ‘tsk’ as you place the decanter and two empty glasses on his desk.

“I thought you could handle this. Don’t prove me wrong.” He chides, eyes boring into you from beneath his menacing, skull-shaped mask. He’d taken you off False-Facer duties ever since the newest Robin had taken a sizable chunk out of your arm with his katana, and though you’d hated every second, distraught at being unable to prove useful to him, you’d complied. Who were you to question him, after all? Your wound is now in the final stages of healing, stitches almost ready for removal, and you’re exceptionally grateful that he’s brought you back on business, even if it is purely domestic. ‘Baby step.’ He’d assured. You had to prove you could handle the little things again before he put you back in the game.

Admittedly, you don’t care what he has you doing, so long as you’re doing it for him.

“I can handle it.” You insist, even as your hands shake while pouring his aged whiskey. It’s not because you can’t handle it, it’s because you’re anxious to prove yourself to him once again. “I promise, Daddy.”

“We’ll see.” He muses pedantically as he takes his drink from you. The mask, while sexy as hell, depraves you and any others from deriving emotion from his face, but as you settle in your place, on your knees, at his feet, he threads his leather-clad fingers in your dark tresses, scratching your scalp and easing your nerves. Some might think it patronising, dehumanising even, but you take it for what it is, a sign of his affection. 

You remain in position while Roman gets some paperwork done, and he continues to absentmindedly play with your body throughout; restlessly straightening your steel collar, teasingly stuffing his gloved fingers in your mouth, twisting your cold-hardened nipples to let out any frustrations while you await his guest.

The wait isn’t too long, or at least, you’re too distracted being Romans stress toy to pay attention to the passing of time.

Slade Wilson is by no means an ill-mannered man, but he gets a kick out of rubbing people the wrong way. Out of pushing people’s buttons to assert his dominance; even with those who fill his coffers, and he does it with the rightful confidence of a man who knows he can get away with it, who knows he can kick the ass of anyone who begs to challenge him. So, when he arrives, he doesn’t bother knocking, ignoring security and barging in on rain-soaked boots that tarnish the floor with each step. He’s wearing his signature two-toned mask and the sight of it sends a surge of arousal to your already half-hard cock, but not more so than when he takes it off, tactfully tossing it on Roman’s desk and watching you with his one, icy blue eye.

“Wilson.” Roman greets him without moving from his seat.

“Roman.” Slade returns as he takes the seat across him, the desk now impeaching your view of him.

“Is it done?” Your boss asks.

The assassin replies with a blunt, insulted scoff. You hear his chair creak as he presumably leans back on its hind legs. “You take me for an amateur? Of course it’s done.”

It irks you that you’re out of the loop, but you remain tight-lipped. Only moving to pour Slade a drink in the second tumbler once he accepts Roman’s offer.

“How is the broken soldier, aye?” Slade asks as he lets the chair fall back on all fours and leans forward to examine your arm. While Roman has routinely checked in to play with your weak and wounded body while you were out of action, you hadn’t seen, or been fucked by Slade since the night of your injury,

“Remains to be seen.” Roman answers for you, as is customary. “He's in a probationary period.”

“You’re too soft, I would have fired him.” You’re not convinced of his words, partly due to the smirk on his face, but mainly because Slade had been the one to patch you up and bring you home. When you crack a sneaky smile in his direction, he laughs, confirming his jest before reaching around you, ignoring his glass to grab Roman’s cigar box from which he takes one without asking. As he sits back, he hands you the snipper and lighter, and you make yourself useful, bending over to light the cigar and allowing your wet-look boxers to ride up, baring the bottom half of your cheeks to Roman.

The motion also adds pressure to the plug that had been almost permanently lodged into your ass since your return, causing you to whimper aloud. Just because you’d been demoted out of field work, didn’t mean Roman had taken things any easier on you in the proverbial ‘bedroom’ department.

Once the cigar is lit, and a steady rise of smoke begins to permeate the room with its sweet tobacco smell, you watch with brazenly lustful eyes as Slade’s lips pull from it. His sharp, stubbly jaw grows tight as he inhales, and relaxes when he blows a plume back out.

“Now, you never did thank Mr Wilson for pulling you out of the fray. Did you?” Roman chimes, and already you know where this is going.

“No, Daddy.” You shake your head, but you’re still fixed on the saviour in question. You lick your quickly drying lips before offering Slade a coy; “Thank you, Daddy.”

Slade raises a brow, the hint of an expectant smile on his lips.

“Come on kid, you can do better than that.” He’s already working his belt loose with his free hand. Sturdy fingers deftly finding his zip. Unsurprisingly, he’s not wearing underwear, and he slips his semi out readily, watching you back as he easily begins to stroke himself.

You don’t need to be told twice, sinking to your knees between his outstretched legs but before you can lay a finger on him you hear Romans scolding voice from behind, and you internally curse yourself, knowing what he’s about to remind you of. Your body already readjusting as he speaks. “Don’t forget yourself. Hands and knees.”

It’s not enough for you to simply lock your hands behind your back or to hold onto your ankles when sucking cock. Roman likes for you to be on all fours. Serving as a reminder that you’re an obedient pet.

The grin on Slade’s lips has grown, and he teasingly tuts at you before taking another drag of his cig.

You don’t think about whether or how you’ll be punished for that later. Ignoring the excited tingle at your core while you try again, avoiding too much pressure on your bad arm as you open your mouth and lean into Slade’s lap.

Almost fully erect, Slade seizes jerking himself and proceeds to tease you with his thick length instead, holding it to your face and then pulling away before you can get your mouth around it. Enjoying the way your eyes grow round and sinfully hungry whenever he slaps it against your cheek until an involuntary pout forms on your face.

“I’m just playing with you.” He’s cooing, but there’s no kindness in his tone. It’s a sordid and mean musing, punctuated by the blowing of rich smoke. “If you really want it, say ‘Please, Daddy.’” 

“Please, daddy.” You don’t hesitate, uncaring of how pathetic you must look and sound. He’s seen you beg for far worse. “Please, please let me suck your cock.”

“Since you asked so nice.” He finally releases his dick, letting it hang as you plant open-mouth kisses from base to tip, happily worshipping it. You’d missed him in his absence, but you hadn’t realised how severely until you roll your tongue across the veiny base of his length, savouring the musky flavour.

“Thank you, daddy.” You offer your gratitude once more before taking the crown between your lips, cheeks swelling as you push forward, purposely dipping back and forth in short bursts, taking no more than an extra inch with each motion.

“What’s the matter? Roman not been giving you enough dick while I’ve been gone?” While he’s mocking your unhurried technique, there’s a tint to his cheeks that suggests he’s enjoying it more than he lets on. “You forget how to do it?”

You shake your head once more, holding back a laugh as Roman slams his glass on the desk.

“Fuck off.” As always, Roman has little tolerance. “I could fire you.”

“Finding work isn’t a trouble for me, Romy.” Slade fireback, getting off not just on your submission, but on grinding Roma’s gears, as made evident by the glint in his eye.

“How many of those jobs come with a fucktoy?”

Slade doesn’t respond to Roman playing their favourite trump card, at least not to Roman, but he does look back down at you.

“Let me help you.” He used that same bullying tone, a hand ghosting behind your head, not to grab or pull, yet, but to insistently guide you further down. You moan as you feel his tip grazing the back throat, opening wide to allow your spit to seep out, moistening his cock, smoothing the friction as he begins to rock his hips. It has always seemed that no matter how much cock you take from Slade, he always has more to give and now is no exception. “See, you’ll be taking it all again before I’m done smoking.”

All the while, and despite their bickering, you know that Roman has been enjoying the show. That’s not your ego talking, it’s fact. You hear the tell-tale sound of his fly being undone, of his drawer opening, the click of a lube cap being opened, and the salaciously wet slapping of every stroke to his cock.

Though you’re listening in anticipation for the moment Roman grows discontented with simply watching, you continue working Slade between your lips, allowing your drool to gather and drip down your chin, coating him thoroughly as you idly bob yourself around his deliciously weighty member. But your wandering attention is noted. Vexed, Slade slaps you, sharp and hard. Certainly not at his full strength, but enough that it makes your skull throb as hard as your confined dick. Enough to leave a mark.

He flips like a switch. It’s hard to tell what will trigger his temperament. Fortunately, you like it just as much, if not more when he’s cruel.

“Eyes bigger than your fucking ass.” He spits, grabbing your head as soon as your eyes consciously lock onto him; using his strength to force you deeper, ignoring how your throat spasms to fight the very much wanted intuition, and the chocked whines that emanate from you as he forces himself to the depths of your throat. Not stopping until your nose is buried in his thick, white thatch and your mind is overwhelmed by him. His coarse fingerless gloves and combat trousers dig into your skin, his earthy smell fills your nose, the faintly sweaty flavour of his cock as you choke around it consumes your mind. “Being nice, saved your life, show me some goddamned respect.”

Eager to make amends, you don’t look away from him for a second, even as your eyes water and your skin burns.

"Yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy.” Is what you mean to say, but all that comes out is a sloppy, garbled mess. You don’t falter as you hear Roman laughter behind you, or when Slade begins using your hard metal collar as a handle, choking you further as he rough snaps your head up and down, no doubt bruising your skin as he forces you to fuck your face on his cock and allowing you only milliseconds to catch your breath whenever your eyelids begin to falter.

“That’s it.” He continues as you lose yourself to the hypnotic feel of his cock rutting in and out of your mouth. His tone does not suggest praise, but the way his eye softens, his lips curling into a languid smile, does. “That’s a good boy, keep taking it like a good little cock hungry whore.”

So dazed and distracted by the euphoric feel of him bulging in the confines of your throat are you, that you don’t catch Roman’s footfall. You don’t know he’s behind you until his now bare fingers hook into your shorts, tugging them down your thighs.

You shiver, forcefully, as your heated cock is exposed to the chilly air, but not as hard as when he grips the base of your plug.

“Good boy.” He echoes Slade’s sentiment as he places a firm hand between your shoulder blades, steadying you for what’s to come. “Keep it up, stay still for, Daddy. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You agree, but once more your voice is muffled by the shaft between your parted lips. The reverb of your voice on his sensitive skin causing Slade to moan around a puff of his cigar, inhaling too much. He sputters briefly above you, his powerful body shaking, causing his member to pulse, uncomfortably at the back of your throat. By the time he comes too, your eyes are rolling back, not just from his movements, but because Roman has started to edge the plug from your ass, teasingly slow until your tight ring is stretched around the thickest part.

“Shit. Noisy little fucker.” Slade continues to twitch and hisses, enjoying every coo the Roman elicits from you as he fucks the metal toy in and out of your gaping hole.

“He can’t help it.” Roman cuts in, voice laced with mocking. “He wants to be filled up.”

“You do know how to pick ‘em. I’ll give you that.” They continue chattering over your head. Decidedly about you, not with you as they use your body. Slade on one end, keeping your mouth occupied, Roman on the other, tormenting your needy hole. “What are you waiting for?

“I give the orders around here. You’ll do well to remember that, Wilson.” Despite his objection, Roman lets the heavy toy clatter to the floor uncaringly.

He doesn’t ease himself in. There’s no doubt in his mind about how much you can take, or at what pace. Not because he’s taken the time to learn, but because he knows you can and will take anything he gives you, and you’ll do it happily. Like man’s best friend, his obedient dog, his dirty fucking cock-sleeve. There’s no scissoring his fingers to widen your walls, no extra lube beyond that which he’d used for his own pleasure as he’d watched you sucking off his best hitman. He just lines it up and plunges straight in.

Both men chuckle at the way you jerk and pant from the incursion, and Roman leans forward, pressing his weight on your back until he’s inches from your ear, short breath brushing the sensitive skin as he growls. “Look at you, greedy whore. Taking it from both ends. Don’t even think about touching yourself.”

Even if you wanted to disobey, you don’t think you could. Roman begins to rock in and out of you rapidly, and with such force, you need both hands to steady yourself.

“Good boy.” He says once more, and you could just melt from the praise. Not to mention the intoxication of being used so thoroughly by your daddies. Every snap of Roman's hips echoes through his office and drives you deeper into Slade’s crotch. “Keep being a good fuckin’ object. Let daddy fuck this tight ass raw.”       

“You’re both noisy fuckers.” Slade groans, sinking deeper into his chair. You take no heed to his complaint; you don’t have time to before he flicks his half-smoked cigar at Roman. The man has flawless aim, so you know he misses deliberately. It lands on your back, and you do well to wind in your reaction to just a twitch when the hot tip scolds your skin before rolling to the floor. He stubs it out with a loud stamp. The burn and the noise both causing your tender walls to clench even tighter around Roman. In turn, Roman cusses, digging his nails into your parted cheeks as he enjoys the tension, proving Slade right.

“C’mere.” Slade goes on, kicking up from the chair forcing you and Roman to shift to his will. “Let me use this thing properly.”

He does this when he’s close, asserts himself, uncaring of how it affects everyone else. With a wide-leg stance, he leans over, and holds your head in place with his forehead in an almost-headlock, forcing you upright until Roman has to fall back onto his haunches. You don’t let him do all the work, even if you’d enjoy him berating you for it. Once Slade finds the angle he wants, you shimmy until you’re positioned just right to bounce on Roman’s cock.

“Bastard.” Roman mutters, and though he sounds breathy and sex-drunk, there is a definite undertone of malice that sets your already shaken nerves ablaze. “Fuckin’ lucky this feels good.”

Slade pays no heed, to him, or you for that matter. All he cares about now is chasing his own climax, and selfishly using you to get it. There’s no more stopping to breathe, you’re reliant entirely on your ropey ability to suck it in through your nose as he erratically pumps against your wet tongue. A score of swear words escaping him all the way through until he finally lets out a familiar, guttural grunt, muscles tensing as he rags your head back. Squeezing the base of his cock, he aims his translucent, sticky cum across your face, his eye watching with concentrated brows and gritted teeth until he has nothing left to give.

Rarely is Slade spent after any kind of sex, his stamina is near infinite. So, there’s no panting, no lazing about in the afterglow. He simply mutters a cocky “You’re welcome.” Whether in reference to your gratitude for saving your life or giving you a face-full of his seed is unclear. Then he releases your body from his steely grip and steps around you, leaning on the desk to watch from behind as he sips his whisky and leisurely tidies himself up. 

You fall back onto your hands and knees, diligently still riding Roman’s cock even as you attempt to lick up any drops of cum that dribble close to your lips.

“Look watcha did! He’s a fuckin’ mess now.” Roman is all bark as he matches your stride.

“Looks better that way.” Slade retorts with a sneer. “His outside matches his insides. Now anyone can see that he’s a pathetic, cum slut.”

Roman mulls the words over briefly, and then his bite comes. Though you could probably take Roman one-on-one in a brawl, you wouldn’t ever dream of fighting him. So, when his hand comes down on the base of your neck, fingers splaying under your collar, you let him force your upper body to the floor. Face down, ass up. “Now he looks better.”

In this new position, every harsh thrust hits the sweet spot deep in your core that has your toes curling, and your dick throbbing. You white knuckle the floor, biting your lip to fight the urge to start fisting yourself. You’re so close, it would only take a couple of pumps, but you’re a good boy. Daddies good boy. So, you fight the urge, even as you’re on the brink of seeing stars.

“Is he right?” Roman’s ragged, gravelly voice does nothing to ground you. His wild, frenzies rutting into your ass, and the feel of his nails purposefully raking down your back all has you on edge. “Are you a dirty fuckin’ cum slut?”

“Yes, yesyesyes.” You chant in time to his turbulent rhythm, slurring into the hard ground every time he bottoms out.

“Whose dirty fuckin’ slut are you?” Roman urges and you can tell he has little left to give. Roman, whilst legendary amongst the underworld, is as human as you are, and it shows in his hitching breath and shaking legs. In the way he slaps your ass to try and reel himself a few more seconds. “Huh? Who?”

“You daddy! You!” Your leg is twitching like a god damned dog, and you let it, channelling all your willpower into following orders and neglecting your own pleasure. “You’re my daddy.”

“Damn.-” Your words send Roman toppling, literally. The cool, hard feel of his mask smacks against your spine as he cums deep in your ass, huffing and choking on his own pleasure, spit wetting the arch of your back as he keeps snarling at you. “-Fucking.Right.You.Are.”

Roman needs longer to catch his breath and find his footing. He snakes his arms around you, holding you to his still clothes chest, uncaring if or what Slade thinks of any perceived affection. Intimate or not, the warmth of his body does nothing to simmer your arousal. You’re still aching to find your own climax, but you keep your mouth shut, following the rules and letting Roman hold you until he steadies himself. If your choices are getting off or passing probation, you know which you’d rather in the long run.

Once Roman stands you remain on the floor, in position, shorts still tangled around one ankle, face plastered with half-dried semen. Once he’s zipped up, you follow his leather oxfords in your peripheral as he walks around you, avoiding the mess Slade and you had made as he examines your body. At some point, he must have found his gloves once more, because when he touches you again, the leather barrier has returned.

Gently, he traces a finger over your bandage before asking. “How is it?”

“Good, didn’t even think about it.” In truth, your rapidly bruising throat and the burn on your lower back hurt far more than your old injury.

Roman taps his fingers against it, clearly considering your answer before pressing harder. You should have expected it, and you give him what he wants to hear, groaning in pain because you know he likes it when you hurt for him. You like hurting for him too. If only he could see the way it makes your already slickened tip leak with pre-cum.

He doesn’t ask again. Instead, he stands up straight when he’d done, tapping the flaky puddles your dripping face had smeared onto the floor. No doubt you’re making just as much of a mess behind you, as Roman’s own release seeps from your open hole.

“Clean this up.” He instructs, before stepping briefly to the side and kicking over your discarded plug. “That too. When you’re done you can put it back in.”

You know what he means, you don’t wait for further clarification, crawling over and jamming your face to the floor. Flattening your tongue, you lap at the bittersweet discharge, blissfully relishing every drop.

“Gotten a lot more compliant since he got stabbed.” Slade muses from above, clinking his glass against Romans as they return to conversing without you. “He really doesn’t have a mind of his own anymore, does he?”  

“Not unless I tell him too.” Roman boasts, lurid pride emanating from him.

“You gonna put him back on the beat soon?” You pray neither notice how you perk up at the question. You’re desperate to be back on the street, to sink your teeth into a fight, or a robbery, or even just a security detail.

“We’ll see.” Whether he noticed your keenness or not, Roman knows very well how badly you want it. “Probation isn’t over yet.”

Hi reader! Just wanted to remind you that you are so so so loved! ♥

[elliereject]

stupid bitch .2

* after learning about the feelings you’d harboured for her for so long, ellie was even more confused than before. however, after spending time away from you and even more time thinking, she realizes that fuck she feels the same way, if not stronger. she only hopes that you still feel the same way and she’ll be able to finally call you hers.

* angst at the beginning if you squint, ellie’s in denial and stupid, ellie lowkey being head over heels in love with you and everything you do, kissing, oral!reader receiving, scissoring, overstim, meanish!ellie, lots of mush

* hello! sorry it took a while for this part to come out, i wanted to make sure the ending was as dramatic as the first part with a satisfying end. i promise im not ignoring you guys i do see all of your sweet messages and requests to tag and i thank you all so much for interacting with me and enjoying what i write bc i enjoy writing it! unfortunately i cant respond 1on1 because this is not my primary account and tumblr hasn’t changed it so that alternate accounts can do all the things main ones do

ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ anyways i dont want to make this too long so im gonna wrap it up but again, thank you so much for the kind words it’s motivating me to continue writing and before i shut up i was just wondering if anybody would be interested in a ballerina!reader x ellie slowburn cuz it’s currently floating around in my drafts and i just wanna make sure it wouldnt flop also lol take a shot every time i use the word jade.

*mdni

*wc - 4k (bonus at the end)

part .1 here

“Stop fucking laughing Jesse, it’s not funny” Ellie frowned.

Jesse let out one last obnoxious guffaw before handing the joint back to Ellie, who was laying back on her beanbag, so he could wipe a stray tear from his eye.

“You’re right.” He said, suddenly serious. “It’s fucking hilarious.” He snorted, kicking his legs up and gasping for air.

Dina elbowed him hard from her seat next to him on Ellie’s old green couch, “She’s right, Jesse shut up.”

After that movie night-turned-love confession, Ellie had utterly broken down. The lines between her friendship with you had blurred so much she couldn’t see it clearly if she had fucking glasses on.

Her kiss with you had sent her down a whirlwind path of confusion and guilt. She had no idea where she stood with you and it’d been over a month and a half since she’s spoken to you.

After that night, Ellie ended things with Cat. She couldn’t handle being in a relationship especially when she wasn’t even sure she liked the girl she was dating anymore plus the fact you were in love with her. Cat had gotten mad, screaming matches were had and insults were thrown; but it was when she started coming for you, calling you a slut and a homewrecker and saying that she always knew you were trying to steal Ellie from her that she gave her 5 seconds to get the fuck out before she did something she regretted.

Cat had left with a scoff, taking Ellie’s favourite green sweater with her. After doing lots and lots of thinking, Ellie called up Dina for an emergency smoke sesh and to get some advice on what the fuck was going on since she somehow always knew what to do. Only she hadn’t known Jesse would be there and the headache he was inducing almost made her throw him out the door and she 100% would’ve if Dina wasn’t there.

“Thanks, Dee.”

“Of course, only I just have one question.” Ellie had just finished explaining what had happened between the two of you in the last couple months, hence the reason Jesse was about to pull a muscle from laughing so hard.

“Shoot.”

“Why the fuck did you stay with Cat for so long?”

Ellie groaned, taking a long puff of the joint before passing it to Dina so she could explain.

“I don’t fucking know she made me feel..good? And bad..but good. I know this is going to sound crazy but being with someone who was as fucked up as me felt…safe, like I wasn’t alone.”

“But she cheated on you like..a hundred times,” Jesse spoke up, finally recovering from his fit of laughter. Dina shot him a look.

“I know but, after she did, she’d be so apologetic and loving and I guess I got used to it and liked the amount of love and attention she was giving me so... I stayed and forgave her, again and again. Pretty fucked up, huh?” Ellie laughed dryly.

“Oh no, honey. Even the best of us fall victim to love-bombing.” Dina said, a comforting smile on her face.

“Yeah that’s sad and everything but what about ★, you treated her like shit.” Jesse said, a hint of sourness in his voice.

“I know—fuck! I know. Cat got in my head and kept telling me that she liked me and I didn’t want to believe it because she’s my best friend for fucks sake! But in those months I was dating Cat I found myself comparing the two of them more and more and I got scared because there was no way I should’ve been in love with her so like an idiot, I pushed her away and Cat pulled me in.” Ellie sighed, the retelling of the past couple of months making her cringe at how stupid she’s been.

She paused, grabbing the joint from Dina to take another drawl. “Then that night after we kissed I realized that fuck, I was in love with her and I kinda hated dating Cat…who also took my favourite hoodie.” Ellie said with a huff.

“Damn..you lesbians and your love triangles.” Jesse said, shaking his head.

“Shut up man, I know you and Dina have your own crazy shit going on.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Yes.” Jesse said, getting up to pluck the almost finished joint from her hand, “We do, but we settle it internally.”

Dina nodded, “Anyways, are you and ★…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence.

“I don’t fucking know, I needed some time to think and I wanted to give her some space but it’s been weeks and I’m fucking terrified she’s never gonna speak to me again.”

Jesse shook his head, “You guys have been friends for years, just give her a little more time, she’ll come around.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Ellie said, leaning forward to hang her head in her hands. “I miss her so fucking much you guys.”

“You need a distraction,” Dina said suddenly, clapping her hands together.

“I agree.” Jesse nodded his head, putting out the joint on the light blue ashtray sitting on the coffee table. “I’m hungry as hell, go buy us some pizza.”

“Fuck you, I’m not your butler.” Ellie rolled her eyes, again.

“Come on, you know you’re hungry too.” Dina said in a sing-songy voice.

“I’m not.” She was.

“Just go, I’ll Venmo you.” Jesse groaned.

Ellie sighed but got up anyways, grabbing her coat from the back of her seat and walking up to her door.

“Fine, but you guys better not just be trying to get me out so you can fuck, again.”

“We would never,” Dina said reassuringly.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing.” Jesse shrugged, earning another jab in the side from Dina.

Ellie rolled her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time tonight as she left her dorm. As much as they annoyed her, Ellie was grateful to have Dina (and Jesse) there to help her through whatever the hell was going on.

Her walk to the diner was a long one as she purposely took a different route to get there. She’d hate to admit it but the couple was right, she had needed a distraction and the freezing winds against her flushed skin helped along with the high from her earlier joint helping to calm her rapid thoughts and allowing her a minute to breathe.

However, when she pushed open the door to Sal’s—her favourite diner— it was like every ounce of stress that had just dissipated came flooding back x10.

“Ellie,” The girl said, giving her a tight smile from her seat on one of the old stools near the counter.

“Cat..” Ellie sighed.

When the two of them were still together, they’d spent countless date nights here sharing milkshakes and sneaking kisses in the bathroom. She’d even considered branding it “their spot” but thank god she didn’t because she probably never would’ve come back again.

“What are you doing here?” Ellie asked.

“What..just because we broke up means that I can’t come here anymore?” Cat laughed dryly, and swirl red her straw around her chocolate milkshake.

“No, I didn’t mean—“

“Kidding, I know what you meant.” Cat patted the stool next to her, “So how are you and ★? You two should be in the honeymoon stage by now, right?”

Ellie shuffled up to the counter, ordering a pepperoni and cheese pizza to go before sitting down gingerly next to Cat.

“Actually, we haven’t talked since that night.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Cat said, mouth agape.

Ellie shook her head, “Dead serious.”

Cat made a noise, something between a scoff and a laugh before turning to look at Ellie.

“You haven’t even tried reaching out to her? You fucking broke up with me because of her—“

“Among other reasons.”

She rolled her eyes, “And you haven’t even talked to her yet?”

“I’m giving her space.”

She shook her head, muttering an “I don’t fucking get you, Williams.” before returning to her milkshake.

By then, Ellie’s order was ready and she took the boxes, brushing past her ex after mumbling, “Yeah, I know.”

Ellie’s walk back to her dorm started slow, she tried collecting her thoughts, tried to organize and arrange them in a way she could understand but she couldn’t focus. Cat’s words wrung in her ears, the only thing she could pick apart from the tornado was you, you you you you.

Fucking you.

Your gorgeous eyes that always seemed to find hers and when they did fuck it was like the world stopped, and your laugh oh my god your laugh, it’d been so long since she heard your laugh and how she craved it. Don't even get her started on how you always knew exactly what to say to her when she was feeling down, and how you tasted..like everything she’d ever wished and more, and how after that night she ached to taste you again, to feel you; how just being near you immediately skyrocketed her mood. She wasn’t herself without you and she was the best version of herself when she was.

Could you be addicted to someone? She didn’t think so, but somehow with you, it seemed like you could. Ellie wasn’t sure when she’d started running, but as she felt sweat perspire on her brow and her breathing come in as quick laboured breaths all she knew is that she needed to see you.

—★

She made it back to her dorm, fumbling to open her door while balancing the pizzas in her hand. When she finally threw open the door she ignored the sight of Jesse laying his head on Dina’s lap and plopped the boxes on the coffee table.

“I’m going to go see her.” She huffed, already making her way to the door to start running to your dorm.

“What happened to space?” Jesse called out.

“Fuck space!” She yelled back, ditching the elevator and opting for the stairs. Later, she’d have given you the entire fucking solar system if you wanted, but right now? She needed to see you be close to you, hold you, kiss you.

She pumped her legs harder, silently wishing she had done track for longer than 3 months back in middle school. Her chest burned and her neck and back were slick with sweat but she was almost there. She didn’t know what the fuck she was going to say to you but she’d figure something out.

When she finally reached your building, she brushed past the residence hall director who’d seen her hundreds of times before and decided on the elevator this time to organize her thoughts a little before seeing you.

Her nerves started to catch up to her as she watched the numbers above the metal door change, was she ready to see you? What if you didn’t want to see her? What if you just straight up refused to talk to her?

Before she could chicken out, the elevator had reached your floor. She walked down the hall to your door and took three deep breaths before knocking. She heard a little shuffling from behind your door and a small gasp before you opened it, peeking your head out.

“Ellie..” You breathed.

“★. Please, I need to talk to you.”

Your eyes flashed to the floor, avoiding her pleading gaze. “Is Cat okay with you being here?”

“We broke up.”

“What?” You questioned, letting the door swing open and allowing her to take in your full form. You were wearing fuzzy pyjama pants with cute characters patterned on them and a thick oversized sweatshirt. The whites of your eyes were slightly red and the bags beneath them were prominent. She could tell you had been crying and it made her heart lurch, she wanted to pull you into her chest, breathe you in and never let go.

“Yeah, it— can I come in?” She asked.

“Uhm..” You bit your lip, probably thinking whether or not you should let her into your dorm, let her back into your life.

“Please. I promise I’ll make it quick.” She practically begged, lowering her head so she could lock her jade eyes on yours.

You nodded, moving back so she could step inside. You led her to the small couch in the living room as if she hadn’t been there thousands of times before. You sat silently across from her, eyes filled with worry and a tiny gleam of hope and she felt the urge to pull you into her chest bloom throughout her. Of course, she planned on doing that later, but as of right now, she had to set things straight.

“Let me just start off by saying, I’m sorry. ★ I’m so fucking sorry for how I treated you when I was dating Cat.” You tried and failed to ignore the way her voice cracked, pain and genuinity adorned her features.

“We were both terrible for each other but my fucked up brain thought it made sense that I was with her. That she was what I deserved…” She looked up from fidgeting hands to meet your eyes, she couldn’t read your face so she continued.

“I’d been feeling..” She paused, looking up to gather her thoughts. She never really was good with her words, but she needed you to know how much you meant to her, how much love she held for you in her heart. “Shit...I’d been feeling different when it came to you...like I swear to fucking god you’re made of sunlight and sweetness or something cause my heart swells whenever I think of you, and when you’re not with me I feel so…!” She groaned and you giggled, so soft that if her ears weren’t trained to hear and take in every sound you made she would’ve missed it, and her heart softened and swelled and spun and sputtered.

“I pushed you away because I was scared of those feelings, but that night, after we kissed. I realized that... I love you, ★. And I completely understand if you never want to see me again, God knows I don’t deserve you but—“

“Stop.” You said, suddenly standing up to walk over to her.

Her jade eyes searched yours desperately, for any sign of what you were thinking, how you were feeling if you were fighting the same urge as her to pull her into your arms and kiss her like the world was ending tomorrow.

“Stop saying that,” She looked at you, confusion flooded her features.

Your soft hands found her rough ones and the warmth that flooded from you to her made her lightheaded, how the hell was it possible to love someone this much?

“Ellie, words can’t describe how much I cared for you,”

‘cared’ She physically felt her heart rip.

“and I need you to know you deserve everything good in life.”

“Does that include you?” She said with a weak smile.

You looked to the side, dropping her hands. “You..hurt me.”

Ellie shot up faster than she’d ever moved in her life, her hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, “And I want to rip my fucking heart out every time I remember, but I need you in my life, lovebug.”

Your eyes finally met hers and you could practically hear the “whoosh” from your resolve flying out of your body. You’d never seen a shade of green so beautiful, so passionate, so desperate.

This time, it was your eyes flicking to her lips and you didn’t even have a second to pull back before her lips were on yours. This kiss had the same amount of wanting as your last one, but it was softer, slower. Like if she went too fast you’d disappear from her hands and she couldn’t lose you again.

She pulled away only to place strawberry kisses along your neck and collarbone, eliciting that same sweet sound she had heard from you only a few weeks prior and she knew she needed to have you.

Your hands tugged gently at her top and she shrugged off her coat, lips still connected to your neck. Her hands dipped beneath your sweater to trace soft squiggles against your stomach with her short nails.

She released her hold on your neck and spun you around so that you were sitting on your couch and she was towering over you.

She watched as your chest rose and fell rapidly, how your eyes met hers, glossed over in a way she’s never seen before, your soft slips glistening and slightly swollen. She’d never been more turned on in her life.

She knelt, her veiny hands hooking onto the top of your pants and underwear before she looked back up at you,

“Is it okay if I take these off?”

You nodded fervently and bit your lip as she slid them off, ever so slowly. She had waited too long to do this, you’d better believe she was going to savour each moment.

You felt the cold air hit your cunt and her mossy eyes immediately snapped to it, she looked as if she was in a trance. She’d been staring for so long you would’ve gotten self-conscious if not had she said,

“So fucking pretty.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and your eyes focused on the wall to the side of you but you scrunched them closed when you felt her lick a stripe up your folds.

You’d heard from a friend of a friend who was friends with Cat that Ellie gave insane head. And of course, anger and jealousy and bitterness swirled through you at the thought of her performing such acts on another person, so for your own well-being you denied and refused to believe it.

And fuck were you eating your words. Her tongue swirled expertly around your cunt and your eyes were practically rolling to the back of your head, and the borderline pornographic sounds you were making were like fucking music to her ears.

“Fuck so good, Ellie.”

She’d never admit it but she was a sucker for praise so with the words that fell from your beautiful mouth she made sure to speed up her movements, your legs were shaking at this point and somehow your hand had found its way into her auburn locs, tugging softly which resulted in soft grunts from her that reverberated through your body and cause a feeling like no other.

That familiar feeling began welling up inside, a knot that grew tighter, and tighter, and tighter until snap. Your thighs trembled violently and your throat felt hoarse from how much you were screaming, despite your climax, Ellie was still between your legs and the sensation was becoming a bit too much.

You tried to close your close but a veiny hand gripped your thigh, forcing you open once again. You peered down into her jade eyes, her pupils were blown so wide that they looked almost entirely black and a slight shiver ran through your body, a good shiver. They were demanding and bordering hungry.

Before you knew it her mouth was back in you, sucking and lapping up everything you would give her. It’s when her tongue slipped into you that you started to feel fucking delirious. Sobs and moans of her name tumbled out of you as your hold on her hair tightened and you were nearly riding her face.

“Ellie..fuck, please so close, ‘s close ‘s—“

Your eyebrows knitted together and a silent moan escaped you as you gushed on her face and she finally pulled away from you, giving both of you a chance to catch your breath.

“Holy shit.” She breathed out, wiping the bottom of her freckled face with the back of her hand. That hungry look at disappeared and the familiar love drunk one had replaced it.

“I should be saying that.” You said airily.

She smiled, “You taste really fucking good, y’know that?”

You shook your head bashfully and she stood up, her knees aching from kneeling so long and sat next to you before pulling you in for a short but deep kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue.

“Now you do.”

You smiled and it melted her soul just a teensy bit, but she could get sappy about it later. Right now? She needed to fuck you so good you’d laugh whenever you thought about your past lovers in comparison to her.

“Can you lay down for me, bug?” She asked, so sweetly you almost forgot she basically sent you to heaven just a few minutes prior.

She stood up to remove her shirt and briefs and allow you to remove your shirt and get comfortable on the couch. She slid between your legs, hoisting one of them over her shoulder as she aligned her hips with yours.

“Tell me if it‘s too much, alright?”

You nodded and she lowered herself onto you, her lean thighs keeping her upright as she agonizingly slowly rocked against you. You whined at her pace and she tutted.

“Come on, pretty, use your words.” She said, smirking lazily down at you.

“Need you to go faster.” You begged.

She nodded, speeding up her pace and drawing out a high-pitched whimper from you. Her eyes were practically fixed on your chest as she watched them bounce and sway with each movement. One of her hands came down to toy with your nipple while the other one held your leg steady so she could grind relentlessly against your clit.

The movements had started unsteady but as the two of you found a rhythm that was pleasurable to both of you, even Ellie couldn’t hold back the raspy moans and groans, not to mention her finger on your nipple which made your already sopping cunt gush even more, giving her the ability to glide across you back and forth.

Your hips bucked against her avidly and her eyes rolled back into her head as chants of your name fell from her lips over and over again.

“So good ★, feel ‘s good.” She rasped.

You froze beneath her as your third orgasm of the night slammed through you and your body practically went limp. Ellie followed soon after, the sight of you fucked out was better than anything her imagination could’ve stirred up and she couldn’t help but wonder how your face would look with her strap buried between you, as well as how it was a more beautiful sight than she’d ever seen with Cat or any other girl she’d been with and that was what had her reeling over the edge, creaming all over your cunt as she tremored vigorously. She collapsed onto top of you, her tattooed arm keeping her up right so she didn’t crush you as she placed open mouth kisses along your jaw, drinking in the soft giggled you gave in return.

Finally, she peeled away from you, allowing herself to catch her breath before trudging to your tiny kitchen to grab a damp rag and a glass of water, she came back and held the glass to your lips encouraging you to drink it all before setting the empty cup on the table to wipe your legs down gently.

You jumped slightly when the rag grazed your puffy clit and she mumbled out a “Sorry, bug.” before grabbing your wrist and placing a sweet kiss on it.

“So,” you sighed tiredly, “are we..”

She chuckled, “Are we…what?”

“Girlfriends..?”

She frowned and shook her head, “Oh..no.”

Your heart fell right into the deepest darkest depths of your soul. Was this just a one-time thing? Had all the things she said earlier not been true? Were you—

“I don’t have a ring yet, but I’m sure nobody would care if I start calling you my wife already.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving her softly to which she laughed.

“You have seriously got to work on your timing.”

“I know, I know…but it’s charming right?”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did.”

You let out an exasperated groan but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face at the sound of her laughter and her hands snaking around you to pull you into her.

And in that moment, regardless of her past with Cat and others, her past with you, the hurtful things said and less than admirable actions she’d done, she knew that you were in fact, the perfect one for her.

bonus! (^з^)-☆

“I’m telling you, these are the best milkshakes in the state.” Ellie boasted.

Jesse shook his head, “No, ★ this summer I am taking you to The Cinnamon Angel back in Seattle, Ellie doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.”

Ellie scoffed, using the arm currently wrapped around your shoulder to point an accusing finger at him, “Dude, you don’t know what you’re talking about. The Cinnamon Angel can’t even…“

Ellie’s voice drowned out when Dina rolled her eyes from across you and leaned across the booth to chat with you over Ellie’s and Jesse’s bickering.

“This isn’t what I was expecting when I suggested a double date.” She sighed sarcastically.

You giggled, “I had a feeling it was going to be like this.”

The four of you were squeezed into a tiny booth at the back of Ellie’s favourite diner, bickering bonding over salty fries and frothy milkshakes. You hadn’t talked much to Dina despite her being your girlfriend's close friend and your close friend's girlfriend, which you regret because she was so sweet and funny.

Ellie threw her arms back with a huff, officially exasperated with Jesse, “Dina, I really don’t know how you put up with this guy, let alone date him.”

“Eh, he’s not all bad.” She smirked, nudging him with her shoulder.

You laughed but it was quick to die out when your eyes trailed over to the entrance after the familiar sound of bells signaled someone walking in.

Dark eyes fell on yours and you were met with a grim expression, Ellie followed where you were looking and the arm that was around your shoulder tightened slightly.

The raven head trekked over to your booth, greeting both you and Ellie with a tight smile.

“You two are so cute together!” She said flatly.

You grinned, ignoring the sarcasm that laced her voice “Thank you!”

“Definitely cuter than you and Ellie ever were,” Jesse mumbled into his milkshake and Dina turned her head, trying and failing to hide her laugh.

Cat rolled her eyes before pretending to drop something and bending to pick up nothing so she could whisper, “You two aren’t going to last, you’re not even her type.”

Anger bloomed through you, seriously, what the hell was this girl's damage? Before she could walk away you stuck your foot out causing her to stumble and turn around to face you, glaring daggers. Ellie must’ve heard what she’d said though, because one of her long fingers pulled the neck of your shirt back just a sliver, revealing the prominent mark she had made just a few nights prior.

Ellie’s jade eyes bored into her damn, if looks could kill.

You smiled sweetly and leaned into Ellie’s arm.“I beg to differ.”

Cat’s face reddened embarrassingly quickly and you could practically see the steam shooting out of her ears, she turned around hastily and stomped out of the diner and you’d hoped she could hear the boisterous laughter that bubbled out of each of you after the door had closed.

tagz (^з^)-☆

@blvebanisters @cassharass @pick-me-up-im-scared @skylerwhitwyo @lil-elliesgf @elsmissingfingers @herdelreydear @koremis @gold-dustwomxn @whenlostinthedarkness

[shubblelive]

— SOURCE MATERIAL

summary : tommy’s plan to get you and wilbur back together doesn’t work. fortunately, you don’t need it. a quiet christmas party, joni mitchell and a little bit of alcohol works just fine.

genre : fluff with some angst peppered here and there

warnings : mentions of a breakup, alcohol/drinking (one mention of being drunk in the past, no one’s drunk in the fic), swearing, very minor panic attack, tommy being a little shithead

pairing : cc!wilbur x ex girlfriend!reader

pronouns : she/her

featuring : cc!wilbur soot, cc!tommyinnit (tommy and will are the only creators with dialogue),cc!phil + kristin (mentioned), cc!ranboo (mentioned), cc!tubbo (mentioned), cc!james marriott (mentioned), cc!aimsey (mentioned)

word count : 4.3k

note : christmas fic christmas fic christmas fic!!! december is one of my favourite times of the year and suddenly i am so inspired like i haven’t written anything in ages but december rolls around and boom here’s a 4k wilbur fic. thank you to carrie for letting me yell at her about this fic.

it wasn’t unusual for tommy to call you and ask for a ride home. he would catch an uber somewhere and sometimes he’d go to book one home and the nearest car would be over an hour away, so if his parents were busy he turned to the next best thing; his siblings. 

the internet was well aware of the younger boy’s habit of adopting older creators as family members. phil and kristin were his parents, and you and wilbur were his older siblings, and you were more than happy to give him lifts whenever you were free. 

“can you come pick me up?”

“hello to you too, tommy.” you had just ended your stream, and were processing the footage for editing to go on your youtube channel. “where are you?”

“i’m about twenty minutes from your place, i can text you the address.” tommy answered. “please?”

you were already putting on your coat. “alright, send me the address, i’ll be there soon.”

“you’re a life-saver, atom,” tommy said. you huffed at the nickname, given to you because “you barely matter” as tom had joked one afternoon a few months ago. before you could respond, he had hung up.

“shithead,” you pocketed your phone and bent down to tie your laces. your phone vibrated in your pocket, probably tommy with the address. you pulled it out one handed as you tightened your shoes. without looking, you copied the address into google maps and pressed enter, putting it on your dashboard mount. 

it should have clicked when you passed the dive bar you used to frequent. it should have clicked when you passed the corner shop.  it should have clicked when you passed the ginger stray you used to pet on your walk to the corner shop. perhaps you were in denial, but you didn’t register where you were until you were parked in front of the building.

you were nervous when you’d first moved in there. you had lived in the same shitty flat since uni, and when wilbur had tentatively asked you to to move in with him you had your doubts. not because you didn’t love will, no that was the least of your issues. you just didn’t want to step on his toes, it was his place after all. you were hesitant to bring your things in, feeling guilty when wilbur’s novels were moved to make room for your plants, when he had to install another rack to hold all your shoes, when you had come home from the bakery and found wilbur had swapped out his sheets for a set of yours. but over time, wilbur had eased you into it, and soon it was just as much your place as it was his. 

now it was just his again. it hadn’t been yours for nearly a year, and yet when you pulled into the strip of parking you had to consciously go to the ‘guests’ section. you took your phone off the dock, your knee jumping up and down as you called tommy. he didn’t answer. you texted him. and again. then you called a second time, leaving him a desperate voicemail. fifteen minutes went by and tommy hadn’t even read any of your texts, so you huffed, realising that you were going to have to physically go and retrieve tommy. 

you dug out your key card from the depths of your purse, praying that wilbur didn’t block your card. the light turned green and you breathed a sigh of relief, pushing the door open. in an attempt to make it take longer, hoping and praying that tommy would reply before you reached the third floor. you reached the top of the stairs and sighed, counting to three in your head before knocking. “tom? it’s me!” you knocked again, not wanting mr adams next door to hear your voice and come out to talk to you. he was a nice older man, but you didn’t want to be in this building for a second longer than you had to. “tommy?” you inhaled. “will?”

you heard a muffled voice, and the door swung open in front of you. “tom.” you breathed another sigh of relief. “great. let’s go, i have a video to edit.”

“wait, i have to grab my stuff.” tommy said, and then he was off, and you were alone. 

the first thing that struck you was how the place looked. it was exactly the same as when you had been there. you turned around to the end table behind the door. a few unopened letters, a small wooden bowl, and a small plant. the bowl had been your idea, weeks of wilbur coming to you with “darling, do you know where my keys are?” before you caved and bought it for him. lo and behold, his keyes were nestled inside, spotify code keychain that you had also bought him sitting face up. the plant was new, and you ran a finger over the leaf.

on the couch there was a grey woollen blanket thrown over the back, also yours. though, technically he had bought it. you were the only one who used it, complaining about the cold. as lovely as you thought will’s flat was the heating barely worked. will radiated warmth, both physically and emotionally. 

the entire flat still contained your presence. any random person wouldn’t be able to tell that you hadn’t lived there since you and wilbur broke up. 

“hey.”

you spun around, wilbur smiling sheepishly. “sorry, sorry. would it be awfully cliche if I said I didn’t mean to startle you?”

you laughed breathily. “yes. but it’s okay.”

he nodded, guilty smile still pinched across his face. “tommy’s just grabbing his shit. you know that kid, fucking menace.”

if tommy noticed how awkward it was, he didn’t say anything. you and wilbur both brightened visibly when he came through the door. watching wilbur hug tom goodbye, squeezing his shoulder gently, it hits you suddenly that you haven’t seen wilbur in nearly seven months.

you’re quiet as you drop tommy off, and he wants to apologise. wants to say sorry for making you pick him up and not telling you his phone was on the verge of dying. he wants to say he’s sorry for all those times you cancelled streams, claiming you “weren’t feeling well” when he knew you were upset about wilbur. 

but tommy also saw all those times wilbur was curled up in that grey blanket you left behind. buying plants to fill in the gaps of things you took and to give him a purpose, something that depended on him. he saw the way wilbur’s eyes brightened when he heard your voice, his shoulder’s slumping before the door shut when you left. 

how one time he’d had stood in front of a drunk wilbur, tear tracks running down his face and had to wrestle will’s phone off him to stop him from calling you. 

tommy didn’t know what had happened between you two; you were adults, he was only seventeen at the time. it felt naive of him to think you two belonged together, but he couldn’t help it. 

“thanks for driving me.” he said earnestly as he stepped out of the car. you nodded and gave him a pained smile. “i love you.”

it wasn’t a normal occurrence, saying things like that, but you softened. “i love you.” tommy brightened seeing your more genuine expression, but he could still see that your interaction with wilbur had left you upset. 

you collapsed back onto your sofa once you were home, not in the mood to edit your video anymore. 

wilbur always worked too much. it was something his viewers loved; how dedicated he was to them. but they didn’t see the sleepless nights, when you would wake up to wilbur typing frantically in his notes app, a muffled “go back to sleep, darling” when he noticed you were awake.

but then it turned to missing entire nights of sleep, coming back from streaming to find wilbur passed out on the couch, shoes still on from last night. sometimes he would talk to you about it, laying on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair and whispering about how he didn’t want to let anyone down.

you soothed him as best as you could, but you knew that the dark circles and the endless cups of coffee would only get worse. he didn’t have the time or energy to take care of himself, let alone you. not that you needed him to take care of you, but the two of you lived together and you probably talked to the fedex person more than you did your boyfriend.

you’d only been split for eight months, but you’d been missing him for far longer.

you were putting up christmas decorations when tommy called next. stringing lights across the shelves in your office, only bothered to decorate the one room. it wasn’t like you’d be doing anything anyway. “yeah, tom?” your phone was wedged between your shoulder and ear as you tried to detangle the lights. 

“hey, me and will were streaming together and i have to get home like, now but my dad isn’t available until three,” tommy explained, and you winced at the sound of wilbur’s name. “i totally get it if you can’t, but-“

“i’ll be there, but i’m going to mcdonald’s on the way back and you are paying.” tommy laughed and you had to move the phone away from your ear, giving up on the lights for the time being. “will still has the same office right?”

“yeah you can get there alright?” he asked. “you don’t need the address?” you assured him you’d be fine, and he paused guiltily. “we may also be locked in. the door broke again.”

“jesus,” you shook your head. “yeah, alright i’ll come let you out. dickhead,” you smiled at his noise of indignation before hanging up.

this time it was worse. the last time you’d been planning on avoiding wilbur until about five minutes before you saw him. this time you had the whole drive over to think about what it would be like. his hair was longer, you’d noticed when you first saw him. you always loved it when his hair was longer but it got in his face too much and he hated the feeling. 

you’d cut his hair for him once. wilbur sitting on a chair in the kitchen of your flat (this was before you’d moved in together) while you sat on the bench behind him, swinging your legs ever so slightly as he gazed adoringly up at you.

“let me take a picture,” you’d giggled, turning to grab your phone. “you look so cute.”

“no,” he’d whined. “darling,” he’d still smiled when you prompted, and you looked softly at your screen, completely enamoured. “do not post that anywhere, can’t have anyone knowing that i simp for you.”

“dork,” you had put your phone down and ruffled his hair, some loose hairs falling out from where you’d cut. 

you pulled your car up to the pavement and went up to wilbur’s office. it was a fairly small building, and you managed to get there without anyone asking any questions. 

you reached the office and peered inside. it was dark. you opened the door and stuck your head in, but there was no one inside. “hey!” tommy said much too loudly, him and wilbur coming around the corner. your eyes flicked between the two of them, narrowing slightly.

“i thought you said the door was locked?” you asked uncertainly.

“it’s not,” tommy said simply, and he reached a hand out and shoved you through the open door, shutting it behind you. “but it will be.”

“what the fuck?” you banged on the window.

tom pushed wilbur over, but the older man just looked at him incredulously. “have you lost your mind?”

“please?” tommy asked, gesturing to where you were glaring at him.

“no!” wilbur said, hitting tommy’s arm off his shoulder. “you’re a dickhead. now let her out.”

“fine.” tommy’s shoulders slumped and he moved out of the way. wilbur rolled his eyes at tommy, saying he’d do it and then making will. his hand wrapped around the doorknob and he was halfway through an apology to you when tommy’s hand collided with his back.

wilbur stumbled toward and you both watched in horror as tommy shut the door, triumphantly locking it with a click.

“tommy you fucker!” wilbur yelled.

“now, i may have been lying about needing a lift and being locked in the office, but i wasn’t lying about needing to go home.”

“thomas if you leave i’m gonna delete your channel!” tommy actually looked nervous at wilbur’s threat. “open the door.”

tommy sighed again, finally giving up. he jiggled the doorknob and his eyes widened. “okay i would let you out but i may have broken the door.”

he backed away, both you and will yelling at him. 

you turned so your back was against the door, sitting down with your knees up to your chest. will came to sit next to you. “are you okay?”

“i just don’t like knowing there’s no way out of a room.” you said quietly. “i don’t like being trapped.”

“i know,” he said softly. “is there anything i can do besides breaking a window?”

you exhaled, smiling weakly. “can you just talk to me?” you fiddled nervously, suddenly worried about what he would think.

“of course i can.” without realising, wilbur had reached out and was dragging his thumb gently over the back of your hand. “you know that step down the street from ou-my flat? the one that you always used to trip on? they fixed it.” you didn’t seem to notice his mistake, so he kept going. “and there’s a new bar a few miles away and we’ve been trying to get them to let us play there, so we might have a new gig bar soon.”

your breathing was more even now, and he squeezed your hand gently. you squeezed back and he smiled.

you could vaguely hear tommy saying he was going to get maintenance, and wilbur shuffled. “i’m gonna see if i can jimmy it with a card. could you grab one for me please?” 

you reached over to will’s desk and grabbed a random card out of his wallet. you went to hand it to him but before he could grab it you took a closer look. “you kept this?”

over a year ago as a joke you’d bought him one of those simp cards from the arthur meme, and it had your name written underneath it. “you’re only allowed to simp for me,” you’d say as you gave it to him, making him crack up.

“yeah,” wilbur admitted, his cheeks turning warm. “guess i forgot it was there.”

he shoved it into the lock and wiggled it around until he heard a click and the door swung open. “here.” he tried to give it back to you, but you shook your head.

“you can keep it, or throw it out. whatever you want. it’s yours,” you babbled, not meeting his eyes.

wilbur wasn’t sure what came over him in the next ten seconds, but before he could stop himself he blurted out “does this mean i’m still allowed to love you?”

your gaze shot up and your eyes met wilbur’s, warm and brown, filled with uncertainty. eventually, you nodded. “always.”

wilbur wasn’t sure if that was if that was an invitation, but before he could stop himself he was wrapping his arms around you. you burrowed into his chest, breathing deeply. “did tommy really parent-trap us?”

“well,” you replied shyly. “don’t they get back together in the parent trap? not exactly accurate to the source material.”

“well we all know how important it is,” wilbur said quietly, eyes flicking down for just an instant. 

“very important,” he could feel your breath on his face.

“it’s a christmas miracle!”

“it’s gonna be if i don’t kill him,” wilbur muttered, teeth gritted as you pulled apart to find tommy. he was holding a stick, and seemed to register your confusion.

“couldn’t find maintenance, so i went outside and found this.” he said proudly. “i was helping.”

“yeah actually,” will said genuinely, holding his hand out. “give us a look.” tommy handed the stick to wilbur and was promptly hit in the face with it. “that’s for locking us in there, bastard.”

“ow.” tommy picked the stick off the ground and chucked it at wilbur, but it just bounced off the door behind him. “okay fine. i’m sorry.”

“you better be,” you stepped towards him and he flinched, clearly sure you were going to attack him like wilbur had. “come on, let’s go.”

as tommy said goodbye to wilbur, the two of you made eye contact over tom’s shoulder. he smiled at you, and you smiled back. he raised his eyebrows slightly, grin overtaking his face. you nodded almost imperceptibly. he’d call you.

he didn’t. 

it had been two weeks since you’d last spoken, and he never called you. you didn’t want to admit that it hurt you. you had spent eight months trying to get over wilbur, all that progress destroyed in an instant.

you’d never deleted his contact, not even when you first broke up. you hovered over it debating on whether to call him, before exiting out and closing your phone.

your phone stayed dark for approximately one second before it was lighting up again. you answered, “yeah, tommy?”

“so, atom, me and a few others were thinking of having a little christmas get together on the 23rd? would you want to come?” he rushed out, wanting to get the words out before you said anything.

you considered it for a second. your parents would be going on holiday. they invited you, but you always wanted to spend your christmas with wilbur. this year, you’d declined again, without really knowing the reason. it’s not like you had other plans.

“yeah, alright,” you said, and you heard tom let out a triumphant breath on the other side. “who’s coming?”

“you, phil and kristin, tubbo, james, ranboo, maybe aimsey, a few other people maybe…” he trailed off, and you frowned.

“wilbur?” you asked.

“yeah.” tommy admitted. “but there will be enough people that you can be a coward and not talk to him.”

“tommy,” you said, voice low. “don’t.”

“okay, i’m sorry. please come?”

it’s not like you had anything better to do. “i’ll be there, tommy. don’t worry.” 

the things you would do for that fucker. he could never know. god knows his head was big enough without you telling him that.

while you were quietly dreading it, tommy seemed almost giddy with excitement. so you forced a smile and acted happy about it, even after tommy abandoned you within thirty seconds of you arriving. 

you managed to strike up a conversation with ranboo, though, grateful that you knew everyone. you’d isolated yourself quite a bit after the breakup, worried that your friends would rather be friends with will.

your worries were shattered when you were  engulfed in a hug from him. they seemed really interested in your upcoming projects and you asked about his with equal fervour. 

the night was going much better than you’d expected, and it was winding down when wilbur finally approached you. joni mitchell singing through the speakers about her lover making her weak in the knees, sipping on a drink with your head resting on top of aimsey’s.

“hey,” he was quiet, words slurred more from being tired than drunk. “can we talk?”

you looked down at aimsey, who was immersed in conversation with james and tommy, so you slid off the counter and followed him down the hall. tommy’s flat was small, so the two of you found a quiet corner. your shoulder was pressed into the wall, looking at him over the rim of your glass as he fiddled with his glasses. “i’m sorry i didn’t call.”

“it’s fine.” you said stiffly.

“no, it’s not.” he pressed. “i fucked up. not just when i didn’t call. i fucked up when we were still together.”

“will,” you tried. “it’s okay. it’s the past.”

“but you’re not.” he said. “you’re not the past, not my past. at least, i don’t want you to be.” he took a shuddering breath. “i was so worried about letting people down that i fucked up, and i ruined us.”

“you didn’t ruin anything.” it came out breathy, just above a whisper and you gave him a watery smile. “definitely not us.”

you didn’t know why you were getting so emotional, maybe it was how cold and dreary it had been, maybe it was exhaustion or the alcohol. or maybe it was because wilbur had taken your hands in his and pressed them to his lips. 

“i’m so sorry, darling,” he murmured against your fingers, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “so so sorry.”

“it’s not your fault, will.” you said. “i could have done something.”

he opened his eyes and met yours, shining as you tried to fight back tears. “i’m so hard to handle, and i’m selfish and i’m sad,” he sang along to joni mitchell softly, pulling you forward to wrap your arms around him. he smelled like cinnamon, and he let you cry for as long as you needed.

you pulled away softly, looking at him as your hand ghosted over his jaw. “you didn’t lose me, will.” 

“you’re saying you think you’re the best baby i ever had?” he asked, eyes shining, and you pushed him away. 

you giggled. “how presumptuous of me.”

“you would be correct though,” he admitted, coming to pull you close again, swaying on the spot. he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours, you threading your hands into his hair.

“you have got to let me cut this,” you mumbled, and wilbur laughed against your mouth. he pressed his forehead against your shoulder, and took a shaky breath.

“i miss you.” he said. “i stopped working so much, i’ve been taking care of myself more. let me love you again?”

his voice wobbled, clearly so sure that you would reject him. he had hurt you, he knew that. will let his thumbs stroke up and down your arms and you got goosebumps even through your jumper. “you do have a permit, don’t you?”

he laughed, relief thick in his voice. “of course, darling. have my card in my wallet.”

“then i guess that’s okay.” you said, as if it didn’t matter to you all that much. “as long as you let me love you.”

“you can do whatever you want,” wilbur kissed you again. “as long as it’s with me.”

[feeling-pushy]

Opening up Commissions!

So recently I've been starting to feel more confident in my writing abilities, so I thought I would start taking commissions!

The prices for my commissions would be

15$ for 1k words

25$ for 2k words

35$ for 3k words

45$ for 4k words

55$ for 5k words

65$ for 6k words

75$ for 7k words

85$ for 8k works

90$ for 9k words

95$ for 10k words

I will be taking payment threw paypal and I would prefer payment be upfront, but I'm willing to do payments after the commission is done, just discuss it with me first.

Any rewrites that need to be made that are simple, like fixing grammar or pronoun slips or small dialogue changes, will not be charged. But if your looking to change a whole scene or add in a whole new scene, then I will charge an additional $10 for those changes.

Things I will NOT write: Excessive violence/gore, humiliation, scat, vomit, urin, stuffing, unrealistic scenes (like two babies/one opening). I'm willing to do darker scenes/sadder endings, but I do have my limits and will probably discuss this with each individual who approaches me with a darker scenario. I would prefer any pain/suffering the person goes threw be for the sake of a plot, and not just suffering for sufferings sake. Yes, I will do birth denial, but only if theirs a good reason for it, such as the parent being on the run or they have some sort of emotional reason (they want to wait for their spouse/lover/friend to show up or they feel like they need to get a certain task done/go somewhere specific because it's meaningful to them, etc.) and in the end I will want to circle back to the pain being worth it to the birther to some extent by the end.

I prefer to write stories where the parent is happy to have their baby, they can be afraid/unsure at first of course, but in the end when it's all said and done, and even if the story ends in a sad way like with a character death, I want a parent to look at their new born babe and feel a sense of love and pride. That despite the hardships it was all worth it in their minds, just to hold that child in their arms. It's called "a labor of love" for a reason after all. I also am more than happy to write fluffier scenes that don't involve birth as well as those spicier scenes.

but if you're unsure/unclear on what is and isn't acceptable then please feel free to DM me! I will be more than happy to work with you in figuring out something that is comfy for me the write or I'll help point you towards someone who would be better suited for your needs.

Anyways if you are interested in getting something done by me please feel free to DM me!

[whenyoucallmelover]

everything i read this month! ✷

it may be late in the day, but it's still the 28th, yay! i normally just aim to post these wrap-ups on one of the last days of the month, but i want to try to post on the 28th from now on to be a part of all the fun 28th appreciation posts hehe. i hope you find some fics you've not read yet and i hope you love them! there's some really incredible works in this list! & as always, mind the tags/warning on ao3 please! x

under 10k words.

🌊 you can see my heart burning in the distance, @hershelsue (900) tags; established relationship, domestic fluff, opposites attract, lawyer harry, dj louis

🌊 Completely Oblivious, @itsnotreal (1k)

tags; idiots in love, first kiss, friends to lovers

🌊 Mouthful Of Toothpaste (Before I Got To Know You), 5secsoflarry (4k) tags; friends to lovers, canon compliant, 2011 larry, first gay crush, realizations, fluff, mutual pining

🌊 now you can lean on me (i'll always be by your side), @itgirlharry (5k) tags; momrry, mpreg (does it count as mpreg if they’re non-binary? i’ll tag it anyway bc i know some people are very anti-mpreg), barista harry, chef louis, cafe/coffee shop, friends to lovers *also, another fic where their baby is named june! ah, we love!

🌊 Inner Crisis, @neondiamond (5k) tags; lgbtq hotline, asexual harry, asexual louis, supportive harry, emotional hurt/comfort, self acceptance, tw: mentions of acephobia

🌊  things unspoken, stylinsoncity (6k) tags; childhood friends to lovers, pining, unrequited love (but not really, of course. is it ever really unrequited?)

🌊 It's gonna be a bright sunshiny day, @justalarryblog (9k) tags; teacher louis, farmer harry, fluff and humor, strangers to lovers, first dates

over 10k words.

🌊 Trapezing Secret, @thinlinez (11k) tags; a/b/o, enemies to lovers, resentful pining ( wow i love this tag), angst and fluff, maid cafe, teasing and banter, protective louis, jealous harry

🌊 Hold Me Tight (Or Don’t), @hellolovers13 (13k) tags; famous louis/non famous harry, trans harry, angst, fangirl harry, misunderstandings, falling in love, tw: mentions of transphobia

🌊  Where Life Changed Us, ExiledQueenCatalog (22k) tags; a/b/o,strangers to lovers, farmer louis, anosmia, disabled character, college/university, touch deprivation, supportive louis

🌊 Promise Not To Stop When I Say When, becka & mediaville (48k) *brief gryles, harry/nick/louis, nouis (endgame larry) tags; friends with benefits to lovers, angst with a happy ending, gay awakening, confusing big scary feelings, tw: mentions of recreational drug use *an oldie but a goodie! can’t believe i hadn’t read this fic from 2013 (woah!) until now, but it definitely stood the test of time! a deep, emotional, lovely read.

multi-part.

🌊 I Called You Twice (Answer The Phone), LilyBlue28 (9/9, 17k) tags; getting back together, lost love, voicemails, emotional hurt/comfort

🌊 You're Not My Type (still I fall), @imogenleewriter (4/4, 39k) tags; a/b/o, grumpy x sunshine, travel photographer harry, farmer louis, fluff and angst, omega drop, touch deprivation, strangers to lovers, forced proximity, daisy the piglet *5 stars!!! such a good story. this one will definitely stick with me for a while &lt;;3

smut.

🌊 Tell Me What To Do, @itsnotreal (700) tags; public handjobs/blowjobs, name-calling, degradation 

🌊 It's Written All Over Your Face - Say It, @larry-hiatus (2k) tags; sub harry/dom louis, bratty harry, bdsm, punishments, daddy kink, orgasm delay/denial, name-calling. biting/pinching

🌊 DIY Orgasm, @red-pandaaa (3k) tags; hookup to lovers (is that a thing?), sexting, nudes, lingerie, grindr

🌊 kiss me once, choke me thrice, @louisplumpyass (4k) tags; louis in a tanktop, canon compliant, sub harry/dom louis, possessive harry, daddy kink, choking, crying during sex, bratty harry, mirror sex, rough sex (with feelings!)

🌊 I love you in every kind of way, @likelarryfics (5k) tags; smut with plot, emotional hurt/comfort, lingerie, body worship, feminization, genderfluid harry, insecurity, dirty talk

🌊 It's My Pleasure To Introduce You, LoadedGunn (8k) tags; smut with plot, sex shop au, strangers to lovers, sex toys, light dom louis/sub harry *reread! another classic.

don’t forget to leave a comment and kudos for the authors & reblog their fic posts! ･ﾟ*｡･

[twstdreams]

Bumbling Love

For @yandere-daze (extremely late Secret Santa gift, I’m truly sorry!)

Content Warnings: fluff, reader is not athletic or a runner

Spoiler Warning: spoilers for Episode 1 and Vargas Camp Event, Deuce-centric spoilers for Episode 5

Word Count: 4K

Deuce likes you, romantically. He does not want to comment on the 10 stages of denial he went through to get to admit this, even if Ace is happy to recite the entire story including all the late-night breakdowns. Unfortunately, Deuce’s misfortune does not end there, because now he has to actually convey these feelings! He can practically feel his brain malfunction at the thought, but if he doesn’t tell you, who will? Actually, being outed by his friends or roommates is one of his worst nightmares, but more importantly, he thinks his heart might burst before he figures out if you would ever confess first. You’re kind and don’t let the little things get to you, but on the flip side when Deuce tries to leave subtle hints they seem to fly right past you.

Thus begins the chronicles of Deuce’s confession!

Attempt 1: Endearing Endorphins

Deuce knows running is one of his strengths and the accolades he’s gotten for it proves that. He might not be getting awards for his history grades or the questionable mushroom potion he made in alchemy class last week, but Deuce loves running. He enjoys the feeling of the wind and the rush that comes from being faster than your surroundings. So maybe you’d like it too? Plus, you’re supposed to share things you like with the person you like, right? That may or may not be what that article he read for a total of 3 minutes said before he closed it out of embarrassment. 

More importantly, it’s too late to back out. After a couple of failed in-person attempts and some advice from Cater, Deuce had invited you to join him on a run via text. You happily accepted and now the agreed-upon time was fifteen minutes away. 

Deuce keeps going over his plan mentally. First, stretching while making conversation. Next, run with you while hopefully looking cool. Finally, during the cooldown, Deuce would confess! It was simple enough and Deuce didn’t want to make it complicated. He could handle three steps! That’s what he told himself right after checking his phone for the umpteenth time to see if you texted him anything. The weather was good and there were no upcoming tests, he thinks, so there’s no reason for you to cancel, right?

“Hey Deuce!” you call out.

“HEY!” he calls back and does his best not to wince at how loud he is.

“Thanks for inviting me! I’ve been wanting to get into running for a bit, but I could never get the motivation by myself.”

“Maybe you could join the track and field club.” With me are the words he can’t get himself to spit out. 

“Nah, I’m mostly doing this for the exercise. I’m already in another club.” He starts lunging to stretch and you follow suit. When you bend your arm to the side and over your head, the two of you nearly touch hands and form a heart. If it were anyone else, Deuce wouldn’t have cared. But when you laugh and point it out, it becomes funny and refreshing. Part of why he loves you is how little mundane things become fun and how easy it is to be with you. Deuce knows there’s a chance things will go sour if you don’t feel the same way, but he doesn't want to lie. Somehow he feels like it’ll be okay. And the more he complicated things, the more likely he’d get stuck in his head.

By the time you two are finished with dynamic stretches, he’s hyped himself up to confess to you. Deuce has it all figured out in his head. He looks cool from running, then he tells you his feelings and asks you out! Simple enough, right?

“Ready to start?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s go!” Your answer is paired with a smile that makes his heart skip a beat. You two start with a light jog and a warm-up lap or two. Deuce looks to the side to double-check your condition. You return his gaze with a smile and seem to be doing well, though perhaps breathing a little harder than him. 

Taking his chance, Deuce speeds up and begins to run with all his might. He focuses on running faster and faster until it feels like he’s as fast as the wind. Adrenaline pumps through his veins and he turns around to see your reaction. Unfortunately, you’re on the opposite side of the track, already giving up on trying to catch up. He immediately stops and shouts out your name. You wave in acknowledgement, a tired smile, but it doesn’t stop the flood of embarrassment from overtaking him. Ditching your crush halfway across the running track isn’t cool. 

“Sorry! I just got so excited and,” Deuce decides against spitting out ‘really wanted to confess’. 

“No, don’t worry! You were so fast! I can see why you got that award,” you pant. Deuce is so mortified he only hopes he’s not as red as his Heartslabyul uniform. He waits for you to catch your breath as he gathers his courage. If he delays this any longer, who knows what else will go wrong?

“It’s, the reason was,” the words are a mess but his brain keeps going anyway, for better or worse, “I like running just as much as you!” Now his heart must be thumping as fast as yours, but he’s sure it’s for a different reason even if both of your cheeks are red. Your eyes meet his yet he can’t figure out what you’re thinking, only knowing that the gears in your head are turning as you process his confession.

“Oh! I like spending time with you too, Deuce!” you chirp happily but Deuce is too stunned to speak. This has already gone wrong in so many unexpected ways and he has no clue how to salvage this. 

“Ready for another lap? Feel free to go at your own pace, you don’t have to stay beside me.” And with that, you start to jog away. Deuce and his feelings are left in the dust and gravel of the track. He chalks it up to a failure. When you leave early to go take a shower it feels like you take his courage with you.

Attempt 2: Sweet on You

Going at it alone didn’t work out so well, so now he decided to tackle the problem with the help of his upperclassman! Specifically, Trey is reliable and the best baker in the dorm. In exchange for manual labour doing chores here and there and peeling enough nuts to feed an army of squirrels for the winter, Trey would help him make your favourite dessert. 

He reads the entire recipe first, as Trey recommends. And then repeats that two more times just to make sure he gets it right. He listens to Trey carefully and measures out the ingredients with more care than when he measures materials in alchemy class. He mixes vigorously with all his might when whipping ingredients and then gently and with great care when folding together batters. Any feedback Trey gives, Deuce immediately accepts without question and implements on the spot. But thanks to the third year’s help, Deuce is able to avoid numerous failed attempts. Though there were several close calls including nearly mixing up the sugar and salt, almost over-mixing the batter before Trey stopped him, and a very scary fumble of the baking pan.

It’s difficult. A lot of delicate work he isn’t used to, learning cooking terms he was previously unaware of, and bits of chaos that always seemed to pop up whether it be in the form of a messy kitchen or nearly mixing up quantities. But when he imagines the smile on your face when you learned he made it for you himself, all his motivation returns and his energy skyrockets. If he’s going to confess, it’s going to be with a dessert he made himself and nothing less.

“Do you think it turned out okay?” Deuce asks while hovering around the finished product.

“You did a good job. The dessert turned out well and it’ll be a nice gift,” Trey compliments, amused as Deuce practically buzzes with nervous energy. The first year carefully packages the gift and heads straight for you. 

He calls out your name and you make your way toward him with a smile. Once you’re in front of him, with no preamble, he confesses, “I made this, especially for you.” A gasp leaves your lips but you quickly accept the gift and take a peek at what’s inside.

Cheeks pink due to both nerves and remembering his last failure, Deuce quickly tacks on, “Because you’re special to me!” His statement brings your attention back to him and the clear joy in your expression fills him with anticipation and hope.

“Aww, thanks, how did you know I was craving this? It’s my favourite, so I can’t wait to eat it,” you thank him but Deuce’s expectant gaze never wavers. A continuing silence passes by and you tilt your head, mouth opening and closing once. Deuce’s stomach drops. Maybe this is when you reject him. Tell him you appreciate the gift but could never reciprocate his feelings. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you tell him you could never date someone who used to be a delinquent. Suddenly, your posture straightens and your grin widens as if you’ve come upon a realization.

“I can’t believe you made this yourself. I’m so impressed. You’re such a good friend!” Your sunny smile doesn’t falter as you marvel at the dessert but that statement is the perfect line to punch him in the gut. Plans of a study date evaporate into thin air as another failed confession weighs heavily. Deuce can hardly recall what happened next but will forever have the feeling of his courage and optimism being popped like a balloon ingrained in him.

Attempt 3: Picture Perfect

This plan is a little cliche, but something tried and true must have a better shot at success. Or at least, it couldn’t be any worse than two failures. Deuce tries not to keep his expectations too high but something about you always has his hopes creeping up. He’s been waiting outside of the cafe for half an hour. It’s still another fifteen minutes until you two meet up, but the mere thought of being late made him so uneasy and restless that he ended up leaving early. At least this gave him time to go over his plan (and fret anxiously about anything that could go wrong). First, he’ll take you to a cafe to eat some sweets, next go see a movie, and then finally confess! Three steps and he’ll have finally conveyed his feelings to you. Or that’s what he tells himself as he paces back and forth for the umpteenth time.

“Deuce!” you call out, immediately stopping him in his tracks, “When did you get here? I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No! I, I just got here a few minutes ago,” he reassures while letting out a weak laugh. Deuce opens the door for you and asks, “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Your eyes shine with excitement as you look around and Deuce thinks it was worth all the research. “It’s so nice to get to hang out somewhere off-campus and away from any textbooks. I appreciate all the last-minute study sessions, but I definitely needed a break.”

“Yeah. School is more fun for me when I understand the work, but after lotta hours in a row it’s too hard.” Deuce was grateful for the help of his dorm leader and friends when it came to him, but the number of times he was unable to absorb knowledge after a prolonged study session was innumerable. Even with you, nothing would allow him to read a textbook for several hours straight and actually recall its contents. 

“I could try running again with you! It’s supposed to be good for your health and clear your head too,” you add. He tries to not flush in embarrassment remembering his first failed attempt at confessing and instead awkwardly smiles. But your willingness to try something makes him happy again, in spite of how it turned out the first time, has him falling in love all over again.

“When I run, I can just focus on becoming one with the wind! I don’t have to think about anything else. I can run with you whenever you want to,” Deuce promises, and he means it. Because you’re someone worth making time for. 

“Okay, I’ll go running with you again. But, I’d love to pick outfits for you one day too! Even if we’re just trying on things for fun. I was so surprised to see you in something other than a school uniform, but you look so good it makes me want to see you in other things.” Deuce nods immediately, though you’re someone he’d have a hard time saying no to anyway. He’s drawn to clothes that leave a powerful impression, but the thought of having matching couple outfits fills him with unexpected excitement. Cater had been talking about how couple outfits had been trending on MagiCam and Deuce had immediately thought of you. He imagined how nice you’d look, what’d it be like to pick pieces with you, maybe a cool set with details that matched nonchalantly. He hopes that matching couple outfits with you will be a real possibility by the end of today.

“Anyway, there are so many options on the menu! I can’t decide what I want,” you muse. 

“I can pick them out! You can go find a seat,” wait no that sounds too demanding, he didn’t mean it like that, “I mean, I can choose if you don’t want to. And! You can sit, you don’t have to wait in line with me.” Dear Great Seven, that was so embarrassing. He wanted to order for you since he had looked up the menu in advance to pick out what you’d both like, but he conveyed it in the most awkward way possible.

“Alright, surprise me then! I’ll find us a nice spot.” His only consolation was that you didn’t seem bothered by his blunder. Deuce took a deep breath and tried to refocus himself. If he couldn’t even offer to pick out some desserts for you, how could he confess to you? Still, he manages to recite his list of desserts and orders your favourite drink.

Deuce points out and names all the different sweets to you, paying extra attention to which ones you linger on longer, what dish gets the biggest reaction, and feeling so much relief when you seem genuinely excited to try them all. He tries to focus on absorbing every single word you say about each dessert because whichever ends up being your favourite is something he hopes to get you again in the future. All your little comments are endearing and make him want to confess to you right now! But he holds his tongue because you’re in a public setting.

“I liked the floating island one. Which is your favourite?” Deuce asks, wondering if your answer will match his guess.

“That one was good. You must like it because you like eggs, right? For me, they all taste great! And it’s better because I get to share them with you.” His heart confirms that he’s head over heels for you because that statement alone gets it racing. He wants to be special to you so badly and receiving even just a hint that may be true has his hopes soaring sky high.

“Me too. Sharing is better.” Deuce so badly wants this to be the norm for him. He wants to get to share so many things with you that he could go on listing things for an entire day and it still wouldn’t be enough. By the end of today, he plans on being one step closer to that goal.

“By the way, how much do I owe you for all the food?” You say it casually in passing while double-checking the directions to get to the movie theatre, but immediately Deuce is alert and nervous.

“No! You don’t have to pay me back. It’s fine! I owe you for all your help studying,” he insists. Deuce is ready to ramble out any number of excuses to prevent you from footing the bill in any manner. He’s trying to be a model boyfriend right now and making you pay, especially when he didn’t even consult you about a budget beforehand, would be the opposite of his goal.

“Alright, alright, but don’t feel like you have to pay me back every time we study. It helps me too!” you concede. On the way to the theatre, he learns a couple new things about you. Your favourite movie as a kid and what your current one is, popcorn preferences, and the two of you share both fond and horrific movie memories. Deuce loves getting to know all the little things about you, which come out naturally as the two of you spend time together. He thinks he could spend forever hearing you talk about it and learning more about you. It would never be enough. He’s trying to make a mental note of it all for later but every so often Deuce gets distracted by how close your hands are to his, close enough to easily brush if he leaned a bit, and how he wished he could hold yours. Maybe he’ll get the chance to hold your hand during the horror movie! And after he confesses at the end of the date, hopefully, he won’t have to let go of it either. It might seem stupid, Ace would have laughed if he discovered it, but Deuce wanted to give it a shot anyway. The prospect has him excited and Deuce mentally recites his confession in his mind. Everything is going to plan! You’ve had a great time at the cafe, a lovely walk to the theatre, Deuce is getting your tickets, Grim calls out to you, and … Grim calls out to you? With Ace standing beside him? And other first years???

“What’s everyone else doing here?” Deuce manages to spit out after the initial shock passes.

“Wait, don’t you know? Yesterday while you were at practice, we were all discussing weekend plans so I mentioned that we were going to see this movie. A bunch of other people said they wanted to see it too, so we decided to all meet up here. I swear Ace said he was going to tell you.” You get swept up in the group and just like that, whatever atmosphere between you disappears.

Deuce does his best to keep a neutral expression but then you glance at his face and proceed to remind him there’s enough time to go to the bathroom if he needs to, so unfortunately he’s not succeeding at that either. Sure, a date can definitely be you, your crush, your roommate, and several other friends! No, that definitely cannot be a romantic date. Deuce knows a group of friends hanging out when he is in said group. Plans of confessing to you fade to black like the movie screen as the film starts to play.

The Best Laid Schemes of Mice and Men

Once again Deuce finds himself walking along the shoreline, feeling annoyed and unsure.  He knows he’s no genius, but it’s seriously starting to feel like this is hopeless. Cater said if he comes on too hard, it could scare you off. But at this rate, Deuce just wants to tell you outright, plain and simple. Frustration and affection keep building up inside. All this thinking and planning isn’t really his style. Shouldn’t he just be his authentic self? The lapping waves offer no answer but at least the air is refreshing.

He shouts your name to the setting sun, then continues, “I like you! Romantically! Please go out with me!” It feels great. Even if no one but the birds knows, it feels right. So, Deuce turns around and strengthens his resolve to see you, face the truth and what may come, and - 

“Okay.” Oh no. Deuce knows that voice. He knows it so well because it’s yours, and it usually never fails to brighten his day. But right now it’s activating his fight or flight instinct, and he can feel the adrenaline pumping. It’s at this point Deuce comes to the stunning realization that he has the worst luck. Nearly got expelled on the first day of school, had to fight an ink monster, then at the next training camp got attacked by a different ink monster and was forced to fend it off by himself, and to top it off several of his upperclassmen have tried to kill him. Now there’s this too, just the icing on the cake! All the times he purposely tried to confess to you? Failed. Absolutely none of his intentions reached you. Shouting his frustrations to the ocean? Message heard loud and clear in all its clumsiness without a speck of eloquence. 

“Let’s date,” you add with a smile bright enough to rival the setting sun. Deuce can feel his brain malfunctioning. It’s turning to mush just like when he’s blanking on a chemical formula for potions class or he can’t remember a certain time period during a history test. He wants to thank you, to tell you that you won’t regret it, he’ll do his best to be a great partner, with so many sweet and flowery sentiments.

“Huh?” is what leaves his mouth. You both stare at each other, clearly flabbergasted by the other. You press your lips together and wait to see if Deuce does anything else. The silence quickly becomes awkward. Are his palms sweaty now? This feels like the world’s most high stake pop quiz.

“I like you too, Deuce!” you blurt. You look at him expectantly with a bated breath. Oh, wait, he needs to reply properly, doesn’t he? Hasn’t he dreamed of this scenario? Yet his brain refuses to articulate a single emotion smoothly or in a timely manner.

“Uh, I,” Deuce makes a mental note to never overthink and plan again because every memorized word is nowhere to be found, “Thank you!”

“Umm… you’re welcome?” Your mouth is left agape and the way you’re fiddling with your fingers makes Deuce even more nervous. He’s definitely making a mess and any word he seems to choose ends up being the wrong one. 

“Please take care of me!” There’s a belated pause before he scrambles to add, “I’ll take care of you too!” Deuce can’t tell if this is the greatest or most embarrassing moment of his life. But once he sees you break out into genuine laughter, he doesn’t care. If it’s for you, he wouldn’t mind being a fool.

“Okay, let’s take care of each other.” You extend your hand and he takes it without hesitation. The feeling of your hand in his is new but it feels right all the same. Deuce hopes that eventually, it’ll be natural, something that feels like second nature. The warmth of your hand, the sound of your laughter, and your giddy smile, they’re all things he hopes to get to experience for the rest of his life.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Two: Electric Boogaloo

Day 20: Late Night Called (Phone Sex)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: Long distance relationships can be hard, especially when your partner is a mercenary, but you find ways to make things work.

Tags: long distance relationships, mutual masturbation, phone sex, toys, vibrators, dom/sub, teasing, denial, edging, dirty talk

Word Count: 4k

The Masterlist

The shrill sound of the phone ringing startled you out of a half-asleep state. You hadn’t even realized you were beginning to doze off on the couch, the sun having long since set. You leapt up, being struck by a sense of vertigo for a second from standing up so quickly. Still, you made your way to the bedroom with haste, picking up the receiver from the rotary phone on your nightstand. You were so hasty in fact that you almost sent the whole phone plummeting to the floor by its spiral cord, just barely managing to catch it before it tumbled over the edge of the nightstand. You composed yourself before answering the call, using your usual, overly professional greeting despite the fact that you most certainly knew who was on the other end of the line.

“How formal, liebchen,” Medic chuckled, a sound that always brightened your day no matter how long he had been gone. “I would hope you’re not expecting a call from anyone else. I haven’t been away for that long.”

You smirked, knowing it was all said in jest. “Well, it does get awfully lonely here,” you teased. Medic let out a short laugh before falling silent for a moment. You heard him sigh heavily through the receiver.

“It is nice to hear your voice again, meine liebe.” He sounded somber. It had been quite a while since your last call, and even longer since the two of you had seen each other in person. Medic had contracts to fulfill and experiments to perform, leaving you alone in your shared home for weeks now with few opportunities for communication.

“I’ve missed you too,” you said softly, leaning into the receiver, as if you could somehow get closer to him through the phone.

The two of you didn’t say anything else for several minutes. These stretches of silence were never awkward. In fact, they were quite comfortable. It was soothing enough just to know that Medic was on the other end of the line. Likewise, Medic found comfort in your quiet presence, the soft sound of your breaths sometimes lulling him to sleep after especially tiring days.

He wasn’t nearly tired enough for that today though, and it wasn’t long before the silence was broken and the topic of conversation shifted to Medic’s work. While the silence was nice, you didn’t mind this either. You could listen to the ex-doctor go on about his scientific endeavors for hours. You loved how passionate he could be. In fact, that passion was one of the first things that drew you to him.

Every so often you heard him pause to scold one of his doves for getting into something it wasn’t supposed to be in, being met with annoyed coos in response. Most often that ‘something’ his birds managed to get into was some kind of exotic animal organ, if the squishy, fleshy sounds you could hear in the background were any indication. You had to stifle your laughter as you imagined Medic frantically waving his feathered pets away from the expansive collection of black market body parts.

“Are you still there, liebe?” Medic asked after one such instance of him needing to shoo his birds back to their nests atop the surgical lights.

“I’m here,” you said with a nod, before realizing that he wouldn’t have been able to see the nod anyway. It was funny how much body language was simply ingrained within you. If Medic were here he would most certainly have some kind of science-based explanation for it.

“Oh, good! I was worried I had talked you to death for a moment!” The high pitched laugh that punctuated the end of that sentence warmed you inside

“I like hearing you talk,” you said, pausing for a moment before adding a softer, “I wish I could hear it in person.”

“Soon, liebchen. The next ceasefire is in less than a week.”

“I know, but I wasn’t lying about it being lonely here.” You bit your lip, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “Sometimes I just wish you were here next to me.”

You glanced around the bedroom absentmindedly. While the money Medic made from his mercenary job allowed you to live in comfort, it didn’t ease the way your heart ached whenever he was gone for so long. The house felt too big when you were alone, like it dwarfed you within its walls, and the large bed felt colder without someone to share it with.

“You will be alright, liebling,” Medic said, going silent for a moment before you heard him chuckling softly. “You know, I have an idea that may ease your loneliness.”

“Oh really?” You smirked knowingly, not missing the slight mischievousness in his tone. He clearly had something planned, and you had a feeling you would enjoy it.

“You just need to do exactly as I tell you,” Medic went on, explaining the rules of this little activity. “Can you promise me that?”

“Of course,” you said, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn’t want your response to sound too eager, although it was becoming difficult to hide your anticipation.

“Gutes mädchen. I want you to strip for me. Let me know when you're fully undressed,” Medic said, setting the game in motion. He would most certainly be teasing you if he could see the way you were beaming at the very concept of following his orders.

“Okay,” you said quickly, not wanting to wait another moment to get undressed.

You stood up and shivered slightly as the cold air of the house hit your skin a little more with every article of clothing removed. However, once you were naked and making your way back to the bed you took comfort in the knowledge that things would be heating up soon enough. You laid back against the sheets and picked up the phone again.

“I’m ready. What now?” you asked, keeping the receiver nestled between your shoulder and ear as you had a feeling you would need your hands free.

“I want you to caress your chest. Think of how I would touch you, nice and slow,” Medic said without hesitation. You wondered how long he had been thinking about doing something like this.

“Yes sir,” you responded out of habit. This was far from your first time taking orders from your lover, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Slipping into a more submissive role had become easy for you.

Caressing your own breasts felt oddly self-serving, even when someone was ordering you to do so. You started off slow, running your palms over the soft flesh before squeezing, feeling the give beneath your fingers. For a moment you understood why Medic enjoyed this so much. It felt nice to play with such a soft, sensitive part of your body. Once you were properly worked up you began to pay special attention to your nipples, letting out a sharp gasp when you pinched at them between your thumb and forefinger.

“You make such pretty sounds. This is quite the turn on for you, isn’t it?” Medic asked, chuckling. For a moment you had almost forgotten he was there. The sound of his voice startled you.

“Fuck, yes,” you stammered, feeling the familiar pooling of heat between your hips as you squeezed and caressed, driving yourself crazy at the behest of your lover. You knew that if you were to dip your fingers between your legs you would be wet.

“Tell me how it feels, liebchen,” Medic said.

“Warm,” you gasped a one word answer before steadying yourself, although you couldn’t suppress the slight whine in your voice. Putting your arousal into words only seemed to make it stronger. “My whole body feels hot. Fuck, I want to be touched so badly!”

“You must be so needy, you poor thing, so empty and desperate. Do you wish I was there to fill you up?” Medic asked. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, but there was a spark of genuine pity that told you he missed you as much as you missed him.

“Yes, or I could be with you at the base,” you suggested. You had been to the base a few times throughout your relationship. It was surprisingly spacious, yet also quite hazardous, which was why Medic wasn’t fond of you being there. Even so, he listened intently as you began to weave your own scenario. “I could be laying back on your bed, wearing something pretty I picked out just for you.” You paused, glancing towards your underwear drawer, considering the wide array of ‘welcome home’ lingerie you had bought over the years. “Or maybe you could take me on that operating table of yours? I know there are restraints on it. You probably only use it for interrogations, but I can imagine a much more exciting purpose for them.”

On the other end of the line Medic’s breathing had become labored, panting as you described everything to the last detail. “Gott, liebe,” he murmured, clearly trying to hide how flustered you had made him. “That would be quite a sight.”

“May I touch myself?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper. It was always a risk to ask so blatantly. Often Medic would see it as a reason to punish you for being too impatient. This would inevitably result in further teasing, but you were hoping that he would be merciful given how long you had been apart.

“Oh, but you already are, my dear.” He laughed at the frustrated little sound you made in response.

“You know what I mean,” you muttered. It seemed like mercy wasn’t an option after all.

Medic remained silent for a while. You could imagine him leaning back with an air of nonchalance, pondering whether or not he should allow you the pleasure you so desperately craved. If he were here, he would no doubt delight in the way your body trembled and the glassy look in your eyes as you watched him, silently imploring.

“Not yet,” he said. You couldn’t suppress an annoyed whimper, clenching your jaw in frustration. “No whining now, my dear.” Medic playfully chastised you before his voice suddenly dipped lower. “Your hands belong to me now, so do as I say with them.

“Yes sir,” you said with a shaky sigh. You always loved when he used that more dominant tone.

“Gutes mädchen," he said once again, making you shiver. Although Medic obviously couldn’t see it through the phone, you could have sworn you heard him chuckle softly at your reaction. “You love that, don’t you? When I call you my good girl?”

“Fuck, yes…” Your nails dug into your own thighs as you tried to resist the urge to press your fingers into your cunt, to satisfy that ache.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes sir!” You corrected yourself, going even redder when you realized your mistake.

“Good, very good,” Medic crooned, and you let out a sigh of relief that he had decided not to dwell on your error. “You’ve been very patient so far. I want you to slide a finger over your slit, only for a moment, and tell me just how wet you are for me.”

It was both a gracious and cruel command, letting you touch yourself where it was most needed, but only for a few seconds at most. Still, you followed his order with a shaky breath and an even shakier hand, exercising self control that you didn’t even know you were capable of. You couldn’t stifle the soft moan that slipped past your lips when you dragged your index finger over yourself, the touch practically frictionless due to how aroused you were.

“Fuck,” you gasped, trying to keep the frustrated tone out of your voice as you pulled your hand away, looking at how your finger glistened with your arousal. “If I was wearing underwear they would be soaked through by now.”

Medic’s laugh startled you with how loud it was. You prayed that he was being cautious and that none of his colleagues would come into his office, wondering what was so funny. “I suppose it’s a good thing I made you strip to begin with, isn’t it?” he said, still chuckling as he spoke. He paused for a moment, and you could tell he was pondering his next move. You listened intently, breaths coming in short, excited pants as you prayed for some relief. Still, you were shocked when those prayers were actually answered. “You may touch yourself, liebchen.”

You were actually a bit hesitant, almost wondering if it was a trick. “How do you want me to touch myself?” you asked just to be sure, voice trembling with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

“Any way you wish,” Medic responded without a hint of irony. “However, you aren’t allowed to come.” Ah, so there was a catch, although it wasn’t exactly unexpected. “Oh, and be as loud as you want. It’s been far too long since I’ve heard those pretty moans of yours.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, your fingers already buried within yourself, two digits curling against your sweet spot. You knew how to apply just the right amount of pressure, enough to make you see stars but not enough to risk tipping over the precipice. This was far from your first time being edged, so it wasn’t an unfamiliar technique to you, however you found that you were shockingly sensitive, more so than usual, no doubt due to all the teasing.

So, that was Medic’s plan, getting you all worked up and sensitive and then refusing to let you come. He had probably predicted that it would be so dreadfully easy for you to finish in your current state. It was the exact kind of delightfully cruel game he would play. Well, you would simply have to return the favor by doing exactly what was asked of you- being as loud as you wanted.

While the majority of your sounds were real- especially during a few precarious moments where you came dangerously close to the edge- you did play it up just a little for Medic’s pleasure. A few sweet nothings thrown in here and there, a few soft whimpers about how you wished he was here, how you wished it was him ravishing you with his fingers. After all, his hands were so much bigger than yours, and you loved the full feeling it gave you. You heard Medic’s breathing begin to grow heavy along with your own sounds. You could imagine him gripping the receiver with clammy hands, eyes lidded, his cock straining against that dashing work uniform, that is, if he hadn’t already freed it from his jodhpurs.

“Gott, you sound so beautiful, so desperate, waiting patiently for my permission to finish,” Medic sighed. When he spoke you could truly tell how breathless he was.

“You flatter me,” you said, trying your best to sound cool and seductive even though you were speaking between moans.

“Oh, but it’s true, liebchen. I’ve had you squirming beneath me enough times to know.” His breath hitched slightly, and you knew he had given into temptation. “And I bet you would sound even more beautiful if you were stuffed with my cock.”

“Is that what you want?” you asked, a grin spreading across your face the moment you saw an opportunity to switch up the dynamic. “Can you imagine me wrapped tight around you, so warm and wet for you?” The sound that came from the other end of the line was a cross between a gasp of surprise and a moan. It gave you a sense of pride to know that you had caught him off guard with some teasing of your own, and you certainly weren’t about to stop now. “If only you could feel how wet I am right now.” You thrust your fingers slightly faster, drawing a breathy moan from yourself before going on. “In this state, you wouldn’t even need to prepare me. I could take you in one thrust.”

“Meine liebe, bitte!” Medic cried, a whine-like sound that you rarely heard from him. You listened close as he took a few deep, steadying breaths before continuing to speak. Even when he managed to compose himself he sounded rather flustered at having let you get the better of him. “You’ll make me come far too fast if you keep talking like that.”

“Maybe that’s my intention.”

The low chuckle you received in reply made you shiver. “That would be quite wicked of you. Perhaps my mannerisms are rubbing off on you. However, I assume you still want to come, don’t you?”

There was a hint of a threat in his tone, a clear message that if you didn’t play nice you may not come at all. “Of course I do,” you said.

“Then behave yourself, mädchen.”

And just like that, he had you tamed again, brought under his control with a few well placed words. You had enjoyed your brief stint of power, but at the end of the day, you knew your place. You were good for him, even at times when it was very tempting to disobey. One such time came with Medic’s next order.

“Hands off now, keep them firmly planted next to you. Grip the sheets if you must,” he said. If he noticed the way you choked back a whine, then he didn’t say anything. You most certainly did grip the sheets though, keeping your hands occupied to keep them from slipping between your legs in a moment of weakness.

Medic paused for an agonizingly long while, the only sign that he was still there being the breathy moans that he let slip as he pleasured himself. It felt like an eternity, although it was probably only a minute at most. When he finally spoke you were shuddering with need.

“Tell me, do you still have that birthday gift I gave you?” he asked, sounding very nonchalant for a man who was driving you to the brink of sanity.

“Yes!” You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice, a wide smile spreading across your face as you realized exactly what he was referring to.

“Find it. Let me know when you come back.”

“Yes sir.” You responded as calmly as possible, even though it took all of your effort not to let your excitement get the better of you.

You stumbled slightly as you paced over to your dresser, the consequence of trying to move slightly too fast on shaky legs. The underwear drawer opened with a creak and you frantically pushed your clothing aside to reveal what a prudish salesperson would most likely refer to as a ‘personal massager.’ That was what the packaging had marketed it as when you first received it as a gift, but you and Medic both knew what its true purpose was, even if it was actually strong enough to ease a stubborn knot in your back on occasion.

You returned to bed with the toy in hand, laying back against the mattress and clutching the device to your chest like it was some kind of sacred object before whispering into the receiver. “I have it.”

“Good. Tell me, my dear, have you touched yourself at all in the time I’ve been gone?” Medic asked.

“You mean besides now?” you asked, your grip on the toy tightening, your finger resting tentatively on the power button, waiting for the moment Medic gave you permission to turn it on. “Maybe a few times,” you admitted, thinking back on the occasional moments of loneliness you had endured when you couldn’t distract yourself with work, or household chores, or even your own hobbies. It was true that in those moments you would find yourself in a very similar position to the one you were currently in, shivering with need, grinding your clit against your palm while your fingers curled inside you, pulsing against your sweet spot.

“What did you think about during those times?” Medic asked. You could hear his breathing growing heavy. You stammered, suddenly unable to find the words to voice your fantasies. When you didn’t answer immediately he decided to provide a bit of motivation. “Tell me, liebe, and be honest. I’ll let you come.”

That proved to be very effective motivation indeed, as the words suddenly spilled forth with a nervous yet giddy energy. “I thought of you, of how much I missed you, and how badly I wanted you to be here fucking me yourself, pounding into me, making me scream for you.” You paused, taking a shaky breath before going into more detail. “I would imagine elaborate scenarios sometimes. You would order me around, praise me, tease me, kind of like right now…” you trailed off with a nervous laugh. “I do really like it when you tell me how good I’m doing.”

“I can tell, meine liebe,” Medic said, amusement evident in his tone. “You poor, desperate thing. You deserve a reward, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for you to respond before giving his final command. “Use that toy, make yourself come for me.”

Frantically, you pressed the power button on the vibrator, feeling it buzz to life in your hands for a moment before pressing it against yourself, the feeling of it against your clit nearly making you scream. Medic likewise began to moan in earnest, no longer holding back, both of you losing control.

“Gott, my sweet girl, ich will dich. Ich brauche dich, mein schatz.” Medic’s composure was fading fast. You knew he was getting close. He always tended to slip into his native language more as he got close, moaning words into your ear that you couldn’t understand. His tone, however, was always loud and clear.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, knowing you were on the very edge. With the soft click of a button you turned the vibrator up to its highest setting, something you always saved for the end to avoid overstimulating yourself. Sure enough, it sent you tumbling over with a high pitched moan.

Even as your body shuddered you tried to keep your ear pressed against the phone, listening as Medic reached his climax as well. He was quieter than usual, no doubt due to the risk of his teammates overhearing. You knew that he was usually a bit more vocal in the privacy of your own home. Still, this was quite attractive in its own way, especially as you imagined him spilling over his hand, the other possibly clamped over his mouth as he tried to keep his voice down.

By the time he finally came down he was breathing hard and fast. Both of you were, in fact. Frantic inhales could be heard easily over the phone line, lungs working to ease back into a normal rhythm as the aftershocks ebbed away. The simple act of listening to each other breathe was peaceful, safe, and offered a post-orgasmic comfort that you didn’t think could be possible without physical touch.

“I love you,” you whispered, as if scared to break the delicate silence. You weren’t even sure that Medic heard you until he responded, just as quietly.

“I love you, liebchen.”

“I can’t wait for you to be home,” you said, cutting yourself off with a yawn. Drowsiness was beginning to settle in alongside the afterglow.

“You should rest. I have a feeling you’ll sleep well tonight,” Medic said with a soft chuckle.

You agreed, albeit reluctantly. You were hesitant to hang up, as always. You didn’t like to be the one to declare that note of finality. Thankfully, Medic seemed to understand, and while he too hated to end this night, he did so.

“I’ll be home soon, mein schatz. Ich liebe dich.” You heard the click of the receiver, leaving you with nothing but white noise. Despite this, you didn’t put the phone back on its base. Instead you simply laid there, letting the dial tone lull you to sleep, imagining that your dear doctor was beside you, soothed by the knowledge that soon, he would be. Back in his private quarters at the base, he was imagining the same.

[djs-horny-blog-lmao]

DJ's Smut Fics Masterpost

oh my god, i now know that these are a pain in the ASS to assemble. but like,,,, handy. so here you guys go. I'm going to sort them into six handy categories for you.

OC

be a good boy and...? - about 4.8k words. contains hypnosis/brainwashing, programming, mantras, orgasm control, trigger phrases, dubious consent. Use of 'good boy'. Features two of my OCs, Jamie and Aeor. (this is probably my fav thing on here ngl)

NSFS SUPERHERO AU

tbh, lowkey the best shit ive done, if you like a good hero-gets-corrupted-by-a-rogue/villain-w/-hypnosis then i've got some fics for You!!

EDIT: this au is kind of dark/fucked up. heavy on the dubcon and corruption kink - all three named heroes are succumbing to being fucked or fucking their villains and are not going to 'win'. please be wary of that going in. i answer questions about it via asks and most of the important plot/lore dumps are tagged under my 'nsfs superhero au' tag if you want to know more/get the tone.

siren's call - part 1 - about 3k words. dom!janus, sub!patton. Trans Patton. CNC, hypnosis, dubcon, corruption kink. praise kink (’good boy’), facefucking, fingering, sex with clothes on, magic sex, memory play, multiple orgasms.

unexpected songs - impossible tasks - part 2 - Trans Patton, sub!Patton. Covert/accidental hypnosis, dubcon, corruption kink. ...accidental exhibitionism? masturbation at the end (not exhibitionism, he's in private). multiple orgasms.

the next stage - part 3 - Trans Patton, sub!Patton, dom!Janus, tist!Janus. hypnosis, dubcon, programming/mind control, corruption kink. blowjobs, riding dildos, magic. multiple orgasms. orgasm denial. use of ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt’ to describe a trans man’s genitals. Praise kink.

Deeper and deeper... - part 4 - about 4k words - Trans Patton, sub!Patton, dom!Janus, tist!Janus. hypnosis, dubcon, programming/mind control, corruption kink. smattering of angst thrown in there. assurance kink. masturbation, degradation and praise, magic, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, obedience, orgasm control, crying, kissing. use of ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt’ to describe a trans man’s genitals.

NSFS HUMAN AU

trapped in a brainwashing facility - 3.6k words, roceit, hypnokink/brainwashing, dubcon, pretty heavy fantasy, open/’unhappy’ ending, missing memories, uses of subliminal messaging on the characters - semi horror/erotic thriller

sleepxiety and motorcycles - 970 words, semi-public, swearing, dirty talk, coming untouched (ish), sub!virgil dom!remy.

NSFS FANTASY/MONSTERFUCKER/TECHNOPHILIA

Big dragon, little prince - 2.8k words, Logince. top!Logan bottom!Roman, dom!Logan sub!Roman. Fantasy au. Pre-established relationship, monsterfucking. Dirty talk/degredation. Size kink. Brief mention of attempted murder at the start (monster hunters).

big dragon, little prince 2: now the dragon has 2 cocks - 3.4k words. Roceit. Mentioned Logince. Top!Janus, bottom!Roman, dom!Janus sub!roman. fantasy au. Pre-established Logince. Monsterfucking, dirtytalk/degredation. Size kink. Hemipenis/double penetration. Frotting. Janus uses they/them.

field research - about 4k words. sub/bottom Virgil, top/dom Remus, trans!virgil, referring to a trans man's genitalia as cunt and pussy, anal, double penetration, aphrodisiacs, intox/mild cnc/mild mind-altering substance, talk of breeding, overstim, monsterfucking, tentacles and monstercock.

untitled vampire logan logince fic - about 2k words. Vampire!Logan, logince, mind control/hypnosis, dubcon, vampiric thralls (fun fact, first fic i ever posted here and it's sat at 69 notes for months which still makes me laugh)

admin privileges - about 2.8k words -logince, sub logan dom roman. hypnokink, dronification, d/s, brainwashing/programming, dubious consent/cnc. Logan is an android and Roman is a human. Logan's trans, kind of. has a robopussy. uses of 'sir' and 'admin' as titles. inappropriate use of ports.

NSFS CANON COMPLIANT

just download ur bf a new brain! - roughly 4k words. Logince, sub!roman dom!logan, hypnotist logan, brainwashing, brainwashing via subliminals in music, descriptions of trance and dropping, cnc.

intrulogical hypno shenanigans - 4.6k words. Intrulogical, implied introloceit. sub!Remus dom!Logan. uses ‘master’ and ‘pet/baby boy/good boy’ as titles. Edging, trancing, and some good ol’ fashion boning. Contains an induction.

sequel to the above fic but now intruloceit - 4k words, threesome, hypnosis, dom!Logan, sub!Remus, sub!Janus, some initial anxieties, kink negotiation mid-sex, mantras, uses of ‘master/sir’ and ‘baby/baby boy/good boy/etc’ as titles

soft moceit hypnofic - about 3.6k words, moceit, dom/tist!Janus, sub!Patton, hypnosis, trance, a written induction of sorts, dubcon, gentle vibes, crying. Written pre-SvSs/POF

a book to turn off your brain - 2.6k words. loceit, sub!logan dom!janus, no actual fucking. Hypnosis via reading. Mindlessness, slow fall, implied hands-free-orgasm at the end, cnc

bimbo virgil - about 1k words. analogical, sub!virgil dom!logan, hypnokink, dumbification/bimbofication, trance, no actual sex, mirrors, uses titles like ‘master’ and ‘whore’.

janus gets double dommed - roughly 1.5k words. dom!logan, dom!roman, sub!janus. roloceit. no actual sex, just trance. Induction is written out. use of 'good boy' as praise. hypnosis.

new prescription - roughly 2.7k words. sub!logan, dom!remus. intrulogical. hypnosis, dubcon, brainwashing, memory play, oral fixation, degradation, no penetrative sex.

NSFS THOMASxSIDE

Teacher's pet - About 3.5k words. Dom!Logan, Sub!Thomas. Teacher/student roleplay. Both degradation and praise, use of ‘sir’ and ‘good boy’. A little ...feet...play? it was accidental but it’s hot i promise.

The One Where Roman Ties Him Up And Fucks Him Silly - 3.6k words. Bondage/BDSM, sub!Thomas, dom!Roman, orgasm denial, overstimulation, hypnosis, voice kink, royalty kink, royalty/servant dynamic (sort of) use of titles like ‘my king’, and ‘good boy’.

Well um there we go i guess i'll update it with more as I write them?? maybe?? probably.

and damn. ive written more than i expected won't lie. if you want reccs from me, i think the brainwashing facility one, the dukexiety monsterfucking one, bimbo virgil, my OC one and just all the superhero ones are the best