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storiesofsvu · 3 months

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Decadent Desires Ch 9

*not my images*

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: alcohol, language, v minor canon type mentions, a little bit of politics, sexually charged conversations, some minor teasing from friends, smut. This one's a long one boys, hope you're up for it. It jumps around a little bit through time but it just makes my life easier and your reading experience more entertaining that way.

The rooftop terrace bar at the Pendry was where you found yourself the following Friday evening. Absolutely stunning views of the river, delectable Japanese appetizers and handcrafted cocktails yet all you could manage to pay attention to was your phone. It seemed like every time you managed to place it down on the table it would ping again. You’d silenced it to not offend any of the other diners in the area but the buzzing continued to grab your attention, everything from voicemails to texts to emails that nearly demanded your immediate attention.

Normally Emily would have been admiring the glow from the setting sun and the way it washed you in a golden light, pulling a sparkle from your eye. Instead she found herself focusing in on the covered up darkness beneath your eyes, the chapped piece of your lower lip that you’d no doubt been stress chewing on throughout the week and the slight redness of your eyes that she was certain was from wearing contacts for far longer than advised.

“Sorry.” You huffed, shoving your phone deep enough into your purse it would no longer disturb you before turning back to the table and taking a swig of your cocktail.

“No need.” She cast a small smile across at you, “I know how important work is.” She assured before picking up a piece of sushi.

“All things considered,” your voice dropped, “you are paying me to keep you company right now. I should be more present.”

Emily shrugged, opting to sway the conversation “all those interruptions helping subside the stress or making it worse?”

“No stress.” You feigned a smile, popping a piece of edamame into your mouth and she chuckled.

“You’re tense.” She noted, “I can practically feel the knots building up in my own neck.”

“I’m fine.” You replied with a small laugh.

“You’re holding it in your shoulders.” She pointed out, laughing softly as you immediately relaxed your shoulders and sat back in your chair. “Long week?”

“Could always have been worse.” You replied and she scoffed at the thought, knowing all too well what you meant. When you looked up at her again you watched as her eyes surveyed you, narrowing ever so slightly, “is…this what it feels like to be profiled?”

“I-oh! C’mon.” She scoffed and you laughed, picking up your drink again, “you look tired, like you could use a bit of a break.”

“Good thing I know it’s a guarantee that you’ll take great care of me then.” You half teased and she nearly rolled her eyes.

“Aside from the offending phone, did you have any other plans this weekend?” She asked curiously, ideas already spinning in her head as she’d looked through the amenity brochures before you’d arrived.

“Might have to do a bit of work tomorrow morning but you are all I have on my schedule.”

“Good.” She nearly smirked back at you.

And take care of you is exactly what Emily did. Just enough to have you satisfied and relaxed, not a moment too long to make you drained or completely dead. She had mastered the perfect balance to give you both a release and begin to soothe out the tension in your bodies, relaxing into the plush bedding as the stars took over the sky.

Even with Emily’s best efforts the night before she had to frown when she woke up to the sound of your hushed voice while you paced through the outer part of the suite on the phone. Knowing you were working, she gave you the privacy, opting to roll over and go back to sleep considering she finally had the opportunity. By the time she woke up again sunshine was pouring in from the gap in the curtains and her stomach was grumbling. She poked her head out of the bedroom, finding you curled up yet somehow also hunched over in the corner of the couch typing away on your laptop. At the very least you’d taken out your contacts, glasses perched on your face to give your eyes a break. She heard you mumble something about a fresh pot of coffee and was incredibly thankful to see two trays of breakfast, one half picked through and one untouched for her.

She ate a few small bites, letting out a satisfied sigh at the first sip of coffee and you thought you heard her say something about getting a workout in before she disappeared from the suite. She shot you off a text about lunch but didn’t hear anything back and after stopping in the lounge for her own she returned back upstairs to find you sprawled across the couch napping. Her brow furrowed at the way your body was already tensed up again, shoulders hunched right up to your ears, one of your wrists twisted at an angle she could hardly believe was comfortable and she knew she’d made the right evening plans.

“Done?” She asked a few moments after you’d finally closed your laptop and shoved it off to the side, watching as you let out a sigh, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah. Sorry, again.” You cast her a sympathetic look and she simply chuckled.

“C’mon.” She nodded her head toward the door, “we’ve got plans.”

“I highly doubt I’m dressed for dinner.” You gestured down to your leggings, and she laughed again.

“Just come on, trust me.”

Emily led you directly past the restaurant, through the lobby and didn’t even glance at the bar before you wound through a hallway and ended up at the spa. You hadn’t realized amenities like this were something that would regularly be available this late on a Saturday but you also wouldn’t have been surprised to find out Emily had pulled a couple strings here and there.

You were treated to a complimentary bottle of champagne, lush, fuzzy robes to change into and then guided into treatment rooms. A session of a hydra facial, any kind of hair removal wanted, CBD therapy to help promote relaxation and pain relief on your joints followed by a full body massage with hot stones was far beyond what you were expecting. Between each treatment you were brought out small plates of tapas and refills of champagne or any drink of your choice and by the end of it you were in a complete state of relaxation, any care in the world totally forgotten. Every ache and stiffness that had threatened to linger in your body was gone, replaced with an overwhelming sense of peace.

The sense of peace and tranquility continued once you were back upstairs, the bathroom lights dimmed almost all the way down, candles scattered around the room to bask it in a warm glow. The calming sense of lavender wafting from the bath oil as steaming water filled the huge tube that overlooked the river. The sun was about halfway done its journey sinking into the horizon when Emily finally slipped under the water behind you, handing you a glass of wine as you nestled into her body.

“Thank you.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to her arm before you took a sip of your drink, “and not just for the wine.”

She chuckled softly, her lips brushing the top of you head as her gaze landed out the window, “from what I’ve gathered, it’s my priority to take care of you. If I can’t help decrease your workload the least I can do is make sure you get to relax once it’s all done.”

“Well you’ve done spectacularly at that.”

“Who said I was done?”

You could practically hear her smirk, a laugh lost in your throat as her hands snuck under the water, ghosting over you body while her lips met the side of your neck. Your head instantly rolled back to give her better access to your skin, a small moan leaving your lips when her teeth brushed across your skin.

Emily wasted no time, not wanting to tease whatsoever tonight, her hands cupping your chest, groping for a moment before her thumbs and forefingers pinched at your nipples. Your back arched off her body into the touch, your head tilting further back on her shoulder and she was able to capture your lips in a kiss. Her lips moved slowly and gracefully against your own as her hands continued to toy with your chest. One of your hands reached backwards, wrapping around her head, sinking into the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her to you while her tongue slipped into your mouth.

With one hand still pinching and fondling at your chest the other sunk down your body and settled between your legs. Two fingers easily found your clit as you spread your legs wider for her and they pressed into the swollen nub just right, beginning to rub circular patterns over it. You moaned into the kiss, your fingers tightening in her hair as pleasure began to build deep inside you. With the state of just how relaxed you already were from the evening, it didn’t take long for Emily to have you absolutely melting in her arms, your breath hot, panting right against her lips as she swallowed down your whines and moans as she took you to your peak.

There was no doubt that by the time you climbed into bed that night you were at your uttermost state of relaxed and satisfied.

Cincinnati had its perks, but the main one was that it wasn’t too far of a flight for the BAU to make. Their case also seemed to be wrapping up relatively quickly, easily and safely without too many trips into the field. The team was currently at the local precinct going through chain of custody paperwork when Emily’s ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voice in a new place. She glanced up with a slightly furrowed brow until she looked around and found the source of the noise, turning to JJ,

“Hey, turn that up, will you?”

The blonde glanced up then to the television, picking up the remote in front of her and clicking the volume up a few notches, listening a few seconds before looking back to Emily. “Is this about that reproductive health bill everyone keeps talking about?”

“I think so.” The older woman replied, her head tilting slightly as she watched you on the screen, “Dunbar’s been trying to get it pushed through to congress for a while now.”

“So why isn’t Dunbar the one on tv right now?” Luke asked, the conversation now gaining his attention.

“Not sure.” Emily shrugged, “but she’s head of PR, Heather’s probably out of town and trusted her with it.”

“First name basis now, are we?” Luke teased back and Emily playfully rolled her eyes.

“We’ve been running in the same circles for years.”

“I’ve heard they’ve had a lot of pushback on the bill.” JJ muttered, chewing on her pen as the tv gained her full attention. “Is that why I’ve seen this girl all over the place this week? Final push? From the looks of things they need all the help they can get.”

“You’d be surprised.” Emily laughed softly, thinking about the amount of phone calls she’d overheard the previous weekend, “a lot of that elbow rubbing doesn’t happen in meetings or conferences, it’s behind closed doors and no one really steps out to confirm it until the time comes.”

“I hear she’s got Sharp in her pocket.” JJ noted.

“She does.” Emily replied.

“Sharp’s not what you need with a bill like this.” Tara cut in with an annoyed scoff, “you need a Southerner with a dick.”

It was almost on cue that you were announcing President Underwood’s addition to the stage, greeting him with a warm smile and accepting the lingering kiss he left on your cheek, resounding in either groans or laughs throughout the room.

“Looks like Sharp’s not the only one she has in her pocket.” Tara teased.

“You kidding?” Luke laughed, “girl like that, she’s probably got every male politician over the fifty doing whatever she asks.”

“Try every politician over the age of twenty five.” Tara replied, “Bailey’s got a huge thing for her and you are getting drool all over the table.”

“Am not.” He defended, though discreetly shifted in order to rub at his chin.

“Please, you couldn’t handle a girl like Walton.” She pressed on, prodding at his shoulder, “you’d be on you knees begging for your mommy in a matter of seconds.”

“Ah! Come on!” Luke protested as his cheeks began to tinge pink, thankful that he picked up on Tara’s words quick enough to circle the conversation back around, “you name dropped her, you know her?”

“She was a year or two behind Rebecca at law school.” She shrugged, “they kept in touch, Rebecca always knew she had high up connections. I’ve met her a few times.”

“She went to law school to be in PR?” JJ’s head tilted back towards the group, catching Emily in a shrug, “man, we could use a new media liaison like that…”

Emily chuckled, “I think we’re a little below her pay grade…” she flipped the case folder in front of her shut, “but now that we’ve established Luke has mommy issues let’s go pick up this unsub and get him transferred over to Illinois custody.”

She couldn’t help but smirk as the man’s cheeks turned the brightest red they could while he attempted to string together a sentence in defence, Tara continually poking at his cheeks, making the reddening worse as the team laughed.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you, the screen flashing Heather’s name across it and you flashed a polite smile to your host before placing down the glass of scotch to pick up the device.

‘Goddammit I really should have brought you with me.’

Your eyes flicked to the time on your phone, letting out a chuckle when you realized just how late it was.

‘Oh I’m sure Boise would have been a thrill of a time; sad I’m missing out on all the sights and tourist traps you’re dying for me to see.’

‘Ha-ha.’

‘You’ll be fine. I set you up with everything you need and Cynthia’s there to troubleshoot. You know I’m covering bases here.’

‘That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m perfectly capable of handling a few public appearances without you.’

‘Yeah well, sometimes I like to be the tease.’

‘You’ll pay for that.’

‘On the contrary, I’m pretty sure you’re the one footing the bill.’

‘You know, you get feisty over text.’

‘Just like to keep you on your toes.’ You chuckled quietly, ‘you seem stressed.’

‘How else would I be? Next time you’re coming with me.’

‘Where’s the next one?’

‘California.’

‘Mmm… nice weekend stay at Laguna mid November? Twist my rubber arm. I guess I’ll have to suffer through that.’ You could practically hear her eye roll through the phone, ‘and check the liner of your suitcase for a purple travel bag. A few things in there might help you out..’

A minute went by before the three little dots popped up on the screen again and Heather’s reply came through.

‘Look at you, watching out for me all the way from DC, packing my favourites and everything.’

‘When you get agitated, Cynthia gets anxious and things start to go wrong. Couldn’t possibly risk you being over stressed and out of State with no one to help.’

‘If you’re so interested in helping, maybe I should call?’

‘I’m not having phone sex with you Heather. I’m inside the Oval Office.’

‘Isn’t it a little late to be in the Oval?’

‘It’s never to late to share a drink and a cigar with the inner circles. You always say I know how to earn my keep.’

‘Good girl. I’ll make sure you get a nice bonus next term.’

Knowing the conversation was over you locked your phone, placing it down on the table once more and giving a brief apology to your company before returning to the conversation at hand.

Emily knew it was last minute to be booking a hotel while on the jet back to Washington, but she’d actually fallen asleep on time the night previous and hadn’t gotten around to it yet. She was surfing through various options, trying to figure out food and amenities of which one would be best when JJ dropped into the seat across from her, sliding a fresh mug of coffee across the table.

“Hotels?” She raised a brow, “what? Didn’t get enough of home away from home this week?”

Emily let out a huff of a laugh, “I’m meeting someone for dinner, just trying to figure out where.”

“You need a hotel for dinner?” The blonde asked, probably a little too loud as it piqued the interest of Tara and Luke across the way.

“Sounds like more than dinner to me.” Tara teased and Emily rolled her eyes, swiping out of the app to pull up her text thread with you to ask a couple of questions.

“Hotel bars a quieter, a little more discreet and you can palm the bartender a Benjamin to get access to their club level or a meeting room.” Emily muttered while typing out the message.

“You’re really not trying very hard here Prentiss.” Tara chuckled.

“I – ugh. It’s work related, she works for Dunbar”—

“Are you meeting up with Walton?” Luke cut in, his eyes suddenly wide and fully paying attention and Emily let out a huff.

“She’s helping me out with a couple of bureaucratic things and she just happens to know her way around a politician or two.”

“I bet she does.” He replied with a playful grin on his lips and she resisted the urge to smack his shoulder.

“Guys,” Emily let out a tiny laugh, “come on, just because she’s a conventionally attractive woman doesn’t mean she slept her way to the top. She just lucked out being a… Dunbar.. nepo-adopted-sibling.” She vaguely gestured with her hands as she tried to string together both her words and an excuse that would shut them up. “She’s fantastic at what she does and god knows our department could use a little bit of insight in that matter.”

“Something we should be worried about?” JJ asked, a slight frown on her face and the other woman shook her head.

“No, absolutely not. Bailey’s just been the biggest pain in my ass this week, blowing up my phone all hours of the night, throwing more and more onto my plate, changing policies and procedures without saying anything and then snapping when they aren’t done right. It’s an added headache I just don’t need.”

“And here I was thinking you were finally out having some fun.” Tara teased, settling back into her seat and this time the back of Emily’s hand did hit her shoulder.

A moment later her phone buzzed in her lap and she swiped across your name to open the message.

‘Nepo-adopted-sibling? I’ll take it.’

Emily’s eyes widened and she would have glanced around had they not been thirty seven thousand feet in the air.

‘How did you hear that?’

‘You sent me a voice message, clearly not on purpose. Was that the lamest cover story ever or do you actually need my professional advice? Cause I charge by the hour.’

‘And here I was thinking I was already paying you.’

‘Fair point.’ ‘One of my friends matched with Bailey on Beltway a couple of weeks ago and they seem to be hitting it off. I’ll put in a good word for both of them, that should get him off your ass and hopefully not as pent up for a week or two.’ ‘Where am I meeting you?’

‘You don’t have to but thank you.’ ‘And Hamilton Hotel, on fourteenth.’

‘Hey, if it gets her laid maybe she’ll stop complaining.’ ‘Perfect. See you tonight.’

Emily let out a sigh of relief, wondering if you really could pull the strings to at least attempt to distract her boss for a little bit to give her some breathing room. She relaxed back into her seat, at leas she would have a couple of days away from work before having to deal with it all again, she needed a reset.

The keypad on the hotel room door beeped, pulling Emily’s attention towards the entry way as she put down her glass of wine, poking her head around the corner. She had a soft smile on her face, one that you returned, even if it was one that was more tired.

“Traffic was a fucking nightmare.” You muttered, dropping your bag down on an ottoman.

“Tell me about it.” She replied with a sigh, turning back to pour you a glass of wine, “I didn’t even bother going home after we landed.”

“Shit.” You stalled, eyes slightly widened as you looked over at her, “do you not live in the district? We could’ve been meeting somewhere closer to Quantico!”

“No, no!” She laughed, quick to wave you off as she handed you the wine glass and you said a quick thank you, “it’s totally fine. I’m actually right across the street from The Pendry.”

“Hmmm...” You hummed over your first sip, “waterfront living, how extravagant.”

Emily chuckled, “I upgraded when I got the promotion, figured it was time to splurge a little, enjoy the little things for once.” She sunk onto the bed behind her, pulling one of her legs up as you started to strip out of your suit jacket and make yourself more at home. “Seems like you had a busy week? Saw you so much on tv it was like I never left.”

“Yeah, bit hectic.”

“Hey, you know a Rebecca Wilson?” She asked and your brow furrowed.

“Uh, yeah, law school. We kept in touch, is she DOJ now?” You paused to take another sip of your wine, “wait, I’ve met her girlfriend, is she a fed too, or just a professional consult? God, why can’t I remember her name? I swear I’ve only got half a brain cell left at this point.” You let out a small laugh, turning to Emily before she could respond to any of your rapid fire questions and you finally actually took her in, “god you look insanely comfy. That’s fucking unfair.”

She laughed again, nodding toward your feet, “might want to start by taking off the Manolo’s.” You instantly followed her suggestion, kicking off the shoes and letting out a satisfied groan when you did so, your toes sinking into the carpet. “I figured I’d try to get an easy workout in.” She explained the outfit, “spent most of the day sitting behind a desk or on the jet.”

“No crazy gallivanting after serial killers through the Ohio River?” You asked with a grin and she laughed.

“No.”

“How tremendously boring.” You flopped down onto the bed all the way onto your back, your wine glass carefully held over the edge as to not spill and your gaze landed back on your stilettos. “God I do not want to put those shoes back on.” Emily watched, impressed as you somehow took the perfect sip of your wine without sitting up, “I’ll admit I’m jealous of those leggings, I want nothing more than sweatpants right now.”

“Then put on sweats.” She offered with a shrug and your head rolled towards her.

“This isn’t an Econo Lodge, I don’t think I’d exactly be dressed appropriately for dinner.” Your nose crinkled in distaste and Emily couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“You really did spend your week standing in for Heather, didn’t you?”

“Is the pretentious showing?” You asked with a grin.

She shook her head at you, a smile on her cheeks, “we don’t have to go anywhere. I’m pretty sure that’s why they invented room service in the first place.” She shifted over to the nightstand, grabbing a menu to toss in your direction, “I’ve got another bottle of wine and one of whiskey in my bag, but pick whatever you want.”

“You’re a life saver.” Sitting up, you leant over to press a kiss to her cheek, “but before I can even think of food I need to be out of this fucking suit.”

Comfy clothes acquired, the two of you flipped through the menus until you’d decided on some of the individual pizzas, an order of arancini and a couple of cannoli’s for dessert. Mindless television played on the tv to help both of your brains decompress from the insanely long and tedious weeks you’d had. Conversation picked up here and there, sharing little stories or anecdotes, laughing over stupid memories whatever you were watching brought up.

As the dishes found their way back to the tray and outside into the hall and the wine was replaced with whisky the lighting in the hotel room dimmed and it wasn’t long before you were tangled in each other’s limbs, lips moving lazily against each other. Emily’s hands snuck under the hem of your tank, briefly playing with your tits before shoving the fabric over your head and you broke the kiss long enough to toss it onto the floor. You shifted in her lap, straddling her hips and effectively rolling her onto her back before surging back down to kiss her once again. Your hands disappeared under her shirt, gently pinching at her nipples before nudging it over her head, your lips brushing over her jawline before nipping at her neck while your hands cupped her chest.

“Thought you didn’t want to think tonight.” She murmured breathlessly, a sigh escaping her lips as her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of your lips sucking at her pulse point.

“I’m pretty sure I can eat pussy without a brain cell left.” You replied, nipping at her neck before you sunk lower, your fingers slipping under the waistband of her pants, tugging them and her underwear down her legs.

It only took a second for you to settle on your stomach between her legs, your hands on Emily’s thighs as she spread them wider for you. Your tongue lapped through her cunt slowly, flicking at her clit and her breath caught in her throat, hands quickly coming to tangle into your hair as you started to eat her out. Your mouth wrapped around her, tongue slipping in, lapping at her juices before tracing patterns across her clit, sucking the swollen nub into your mouth.

“Oh god…” Pleasure was surging through her and a gasp escaped her lips when two of your fingers easily slipped into her pussy. “Fuck!” Your mouth focused on her clit while your fingers started to pump, curling, scissoring and twisting with each thrust. “Shit that feels good…” her hips began to rock in time with your hand, whimpers escaping her lips each time your fingers curled, hitting the extra sensitive spot inside her.

You picked up the pace, sucking harder on her clit and she moaned loudly, nails softly scratching at your scalp as she ground against your mouth. Her pussy was pulsing around your fingers, squeezing you already and you knew she was close, her thighs shaking around you before she cried out, her back arching off the bed and her body tensed, letting out little shivers as you fingers gently fucked her through her orgasm.

“Get up here.” She panted and you giggled, softly pulling your fingers from here.

“Never said I was done.” With a smirk you rolled off the bed, grabbing something from your bag before returning with a small bottle of lube and a double ended dildo, “figured we both had long weeks, we should both get to reap the benefits.”

“I like the way you’re thinking.” She chuckled softly, watching as you climbed back onto the bed, coating both sides of the dildo with lube.

“Yeah?” Leaning forward you rubbed the smaller end against her sensitive cunt, “was kinda hoping I could ride you.”

“Fuck…” she muttered, a quiet gasp escaping her lips as her head fell back into the pillows when the toy brushed against her clit, “you definitely don’t have to ask that twice.”

With another soft giggle you pressed the toy against her harder, the tip gently nudging into her, thrusting a few times until you’d sunk it all the way in. Emily's hand wound around the base, holding it steady as you climbed up on your knees, straddling her once again before sinking down onto the longer end and letting out a happy moan.

“Oh god…”

“Feel good princess?” She asked, her hands settling on your hips and you nodded, your eyes already falling shut as your pussy fluttered around the toy.

Emily rocked her hips up, earning a gasp from you when her cock moved inside you, urging you to start riding and you began to roll your hips, whimpers coming from both of you as the base of the toy rubbed perfectly on your clits. Emily’s hands roamed over your body, fingertips leaving burning patterns across your skin, pinching at your nipples, rubbing at your clit as you continued to ride her. She could feel the wetness from your pussy dripping where your bodies connected. Each time you sunk all the way down onto the toy it pressed deeper into her, harder against her clit and she felt her body begin to tingle again when you picked up the pace, chasing your own orgasm.

Knowing you had to be close, she sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist, bracing her feet on the bed to fuck harder into you. Your moans instantly got louder as your cunt clenched down around the toy, a surprised whimper breaking free when her mouth wrapped around you nipple, teeth gently scraping over the sensitive skin. Your hands easily wound into her hair, tugging at the roots just enough to drive her wild, holding her to your chest as your body began to tremble.

“Come for me…” She husked, her breath hot on your skin and you let out a stifled moan, your arms tightening around her as your peak shot through you. The way you sank down even further onto the toy had it hit the exact right spot inside her and she let out a gasp, nails digging into your back when she came.

Panting, the two of you dropped to the bed, sinking into the pillows, the toy tossed aside to be dealt with later. You curled onto your side, barely able to keep your eyes open any longer and Emily wrapped around your back, pressing a kiss just below your ear as her fingers linked with yours.

“Better?”

“Immensely.” You replied with a yawn, squeezing softly at her hand, the entire world forgotten as the two of you were finally able to drift off.

____________

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queenendless · 1 year

Text

🔞🌃Nights (Adult!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader)🌃🔞

A/N: This is a short smut piece, serving as the follow-up to Moving Day.

CW: MATURE 18+ CONTENT INSIDE. NSFW, P in V, P in ass, double penetration, MMF, threesome, throuple, polyamory, short smut.

I'm no master at writing smut so sorry if it's not longer and stuff but writing short pieces means more often posts.

All credit for the characters/show goes to Gege sensei.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope whoever reads this enjoys.

Gojo boastfully laughed as he regaled with tales of pissing off the stingy higher ups, Geto whisking his drink about in his hand with a wry grin and invested eyes, and you sitting in between them.

Sushi dinner with your two loves. What a way to celebrate this newest chapter in all your lives.

You resting your face in your folded arms as their banter rang richly to your ears, lulled by their shared warmth. Feeling cozy, at ease, and entranced in ways you didn't think you'd ever receive. With them, it was like you three were in your own little world.

It had gotten late. Leaving the sushi joint with leftovers in bags, you three were heartily full, light-headed and happy. Driving back home in your five seated cozy car with Geto at the wheel. Gojo leaned his head back in the passenger seat while you kissed them both on the cheek, making small talk with Geto while Gojo zoned out to nap.

Honestly … you felt on top of the world.

Like right now.

In the comfort of your newly shared bedroom.

As your soaking cunt gobbled up Geto's shaft with such ease as he lowered you down slowly enough to slide it in; his giant hands squeezing you from your hips to your thighs.

"Fuck~" His raven hair fanned out beneath him, panting heavily already. "Honey, you are heaven sent~" Geto's lovesick smile made your bud tingle at his girth stuffing.

"Aaah~!" Your erotic moan made Geto swell up even further. His cheeks turned more red, sweat trailed down his enamored face and his flexing muscles; his veins popping out in the process.

Scratching your nails down Geto's ribs elicited rough hisses from him that made you carefully lay down atop him so you could smooch him. "Sugu~" Your shortened nickname for him made Geto smile further as he opened his mouth to let you two French kiss sloppily.

The moment you felt Gojo's lean warm presence lay atop your back, his girth throbbed as he jerked off in his hand whilst rubbing his dripping head in between your peaches.

"Nngh!" Geto grinded his hips forward just to get friction stroking his balls against Gojo's.

"Mmph!" Your lips broke off, head reeling as your arse swayed in the air, just begging to have Gojo's girth stretch you out. And that's what he did, your scorching wet caverns sucking him up just as greedily. "Ha – Aah … Toru~" Your shortened nickname for him, panting needily, had his hips jolting into yours, kneading your cheeks roughly, leaving scratch marks in their wake.

"Fuuuck~! Tight as ever, sweetie~ You've really missed me, huh~?" His head plopped down on your back as his hand fondled your right tit from behind simultaneously with Geto massaging your left tit.

"Missed us both, honestly~" Geto drawled, flitting his tongue along your neck, suckling your collar bone, grinning at the red welt marks now imprinting you. "The feeling's mutual~"

With Suguru's left hand gripping your right hip, and Satoru's own left hand grabbing your left hip, you felt somewhat anchored through your heated mindset. Your hands dug into Geto's broad shoulders for steadiness, your hips rotated upwards as they together lifted you up only to pull you down to take them in further, striking every nerve ending ingrained inside.

When they thrusted upwards, you jolted forward. When they pulled back, your walls fluttered, squeezing their cocks desperately.

This addicting pattern was quickly escalating as neither man was not even close to fully truly releasing. And so, their now frenetic rhythm had you a moaning yelling mess as familiarity of times before began racing through your memory. Them pounding into your soaking tightness specifically.

"God, this feels right~!" Gojo buried his face in your neck, kissing and biting you insistently enough to leave marks as much as possible in every inch of skin there. "So fuckin hot~!"

Geto took in a mouthful of your bountiful breast that he was just twisting your nub with his fingers, now tracing patterns with his sizzling tongue as he nibbled on your bud starvingly, his lips curling on both ends up at you. "Agreed~ Such a fine tasting angel~"

God, their teething, their burning mouths, their firm-built hands fondling and rubbing your skin, everything drove you up the wall. Their touch. Their taste. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Dopamine jutted through all three of you.

FWOP!

Pushing yourself off Geto as you raised your hips frenzy in tune with them pulling away just as swiftly.

FWOP!

Only to SLAM yourself down on them both, earning lustful swearing yells from them, amorously smiling looking at their squeezing eyed, panting, sweating flushed beauty. Up and down you went, rewarding you with unreasonable pleasure and their deep enriching symphony of moaning.

"Horny little lady~" Gojo hissed as his hand released your abused red boob to grab your chin and turn you around enough to kiss you savagely; your surprised mewls mingling with his growls as he won supreme exploring every inch of your mouth.

SCHLICK!

Pulling your hands off his shoulders to intertwine with his, the squelched sounds of Geto popping out your breast heard loud and clear; a line of drool connected his tongue to your drool covered hill as he pushed up on his elbows, dark lust coating his eyes. "Satoru, let me take the lead here."

"Aw~! But taking her from behind is heaven~!" Gojo's whine as he parted from your swollen slick mouth was accentuated by thrusting in one fast thrust up said ass, having your loud squealing self lean back against his front; your horny tongue out expression had their dicks twitching.

"So is this." Geto's devious smirk was your only warning as he quickly pushed off the bed, situating yourself straddling him, when his hand released yours to grab your right thigh and heaved it high enough and far apart to stretch your pussy to go with another angle had you crying out. "Well~?"

Pulling your left thigh enough apart to drape over his hip from behind, Gojo followed his lead, earning him the same result, seeing your wanton crying self hugging Geto around the neck.

"Huh … not bad Suguru~" Gojo chuckled before leaning over your curling whimpering self to kiss Geto deeply.

"I try~ Now Satoru, shall we~?"

"W – wait~!" Your breathless plea had both men watching and amazed that you turned around to tug on Gojo's black blindfold, pulling it off to let his hair down and his eyes be free. "Beautiful~"

Gojo blushed darker, his heart felt struck harder by Cupid's arrow, and his eyes brightened with unbridled love before he kissed you his thanks, smiling cheekily as he rubbed noses with you. "Kawaii~!"

Holding your legs up from under the knees in one hand, lifting you higher off the bed, you were blown away by their sheer strength electrifying your nerves in this new angle, taking turns thrusting in and out, tugging your legs further apart in tune to their spasming pegs.

Burying your face in Geto's thick neck as your boobs aligned against his boob like pecs, you chewed on them luscious builds before biting hard enough to leave teeth marks. "Goddess~!" Geto gushed, dazedly smiling at you marking him as yours.

Shaking the bed insistently enough had the headboard smacking the wall a lot as one slid in and the other slid out, shaking you back and forth between them as they sucked and bit every inch of you they could reach, further claiming you.

The cacophony of profane, raunchy yells and screams served as the melodies to your ears, bouncing off the walls from the overwhelming sensations rendering you unable to spot when blue and brown gazes made eye contact.

Both slid out until only their tips remained inside. Then they struck in unison. Your tender flesh stretched to its limits until they reached that right spot. You then saw blinding white, popping off Geto's pec to breathlessly gasp. Your cunt and a-hole slick and swollen enough for another double pining.

Grinding as one, their composure long lost, all that mattered now was carnal release. Your breath hitched at the overwhelming high, your nails dragging down Geto's back; his pained growl giving you goosebumps before devouring your open mouth, swallowing your cries.

Blood rushed to your core chaotically. The air between you all got so smothering hot, difficult to breathe calmly. You barely able to pull free from Geto's swollen wet mouth before Gojo's head swerved around to entrap you in a deep tongue fuck.

Your hair stuck to your forehead, gleaming from sweat, you were losing composure. You felt muscles tighten as you were literally pressed in between their built chests, bruising left on your knees from their grip digging in painfully.

"T – Toru! S – Sugu! I – I'm – !" You struggled to utter against Gojo's perfect lips as you felt yourself about to reach the precipice.

"S – Same! Sh – Shit!" Gojo gritted through his teeth before going back to sucking and nibbling roughly at the back of your neck.

"Come, love! C – Come for us~!" Geto croaked out as narrowed brown eyes blazed with vigor; his furrowed brows and set jawline evident signs of him barely keeping it together.

The same was said for you as your continued insatiable clenching around their lengths had them pegging you in their hardest drive. Combined, it all drove you over the edge.

All you saw and felt was that same white hotness, wailing out loud as you unraveled. Drenching their abdomens, their thighs, the bedsheets covers. A lot really.

Your obscene wail was what set their beings spasmodic; the trigger warning, as their guts tightened in unison as they convulsed hard, roaring out loud, bursting the dams, painting your insides with their essence, leaking out of you, down their lengths and mixing with your own.

Dissolved into pleasure, you all came undone, the highs coming in waves of heaven. Wanting to chase that high, the chaotic duo kept at it, their cream coated loads still hitting your deepest crevice just to get the rest out, grunting whilst you were an exhausted mewling wreck.

Finally, their own highs in the clouds faded off, leaving their once stiff dicks now softened up. They lowered you down, releasing your knees, setting your legs draped against the soiled sheets.

Gojo collapsed against your backside, resting his sweaty warm face against your right shoulder while Geto draped himself over you up front, his face buried in your tits. You shuddered as one hand draped through Geto's ruffled raven locks while your other hand brushed back Gojo's snowy locks stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Y/n-chaaaaaan~" Gojo cooed teasingly despite the fatigue, no doubt smirking. "Hands on practice, success~"

"Quite the memorable lesson, indeed~" Geto's soothing voice also teemed with wry humor as he looked up at you with his nose lodged between your hills.

Of course, they'd be smug about making you cum hard.

"J … Jerks." Your halfhearted jab was overshadowed by you nearly fainting sideways, instinctively triggering their sudden boost in reflexes, having them grabbing you before laying you gently down on your side.

"Maybe we pushed her too far." Gojo hinted at.

Geto raised a questioning brow at his crazy bestie lover. "Maybe?"

Still, they chuckled weakly at the night's events as they laid on their sides, keeping their shafts inside your comfy self; the bump in your tummy being sheer physical evidence of them in the womb. Their arms encased you, flushed between their glowing drenched selves, their legs entangling with your own.

"Love you two." Your nearly silent murmur added to your overall allure as your hands balled up against Geto's abs, your cheek pressed up to his scar covered chest as your own pillow for the night, dozing off leisurely to la-la land.

Gojo kissed your free cheek, using your shoulder as his pillow, whispering into your ear, "We love you too, beautiful~"

Geto kissed your forehead, smiling looking at your precious self snuggling into him. "Always."

As the iconic sorcerer duo kissed each other goodnight, they too conked out, leaving cleaning up to the morning.

For now, three being one, in their own little world, was like and will be like many more nights to come.

Literally.

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harrysfolklore · 2 years

Text

grammys night

not my best but i needed to post something for the grammys, congrats for the wins harry ilysm

gif credits to @chriswevans

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Adrenaline and anxiety ran through Harry's veins as he sat on his table, the night had been excellent for him so far, winning the first award they announced and delivering an outstanding performance that he was very proud of despite all.

However, you knew that his nerves were through the roof before the most important moment of the night was coming up. The Album of the Year category.

You had endless conversations with Harry about how he made an amazing album and he didn't need any awards or nominations to validate that he's a great singer and songwriter, and you were still going to be proud of him no matter what, but he still felt pressured and nervous when it came to award shows as prestigious as the Grammys.

"Baby," you quietly spoke, making him look up at you after spending minutes staring into his clammy hands on his lap, "It's going to be okay," you smiled softly grabbing his hand and caressing his knuckles, "Even if you don't win it, you still owned the night and I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," Harry simply said, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand for a moment, "For being here and for everything, really."

"Oh don't mind me, I only came with you because I knew Taylor Swift was going to be here." you joked, and the small laugh he let out made your own never cool down.

"I love you," he stared right into your eyes, as if you were the only ones in the room, "I know I've said it more times that I can count, but none of this would be possible without you."

"I love you too, baby. More than you can imagine."

And despite not being a fan of PDA, he connected your lips with his in a small kiss, a kiss you knew he needed.

"It's show time." you heard Jeff say when the lights went down again and Trevor Noah came on stage to announce the most important award of the night.

Harry's eyes were fixed on your hands holding his own on your lap, his nerves not allowing him to put his gaze anywhere else.

The fans the recording academy invited to talk about the artists nominated for album of the year stood in a line behind Trevor, and you couldn't help but smile tenderly at the old lady that adored Harry just as much as you did.

"And the Grammy goes to..." Trevor spoke into the mic, and when he opened the card and moved to stand in front of Harry's fan, you knew the award was his,

"It's you, baby!" you whisper-yelled into his ear, and he turned his head to give you a confused look.

"What do you-" and before he could even finish his sentence his name was being called out and the trumpets from Music for a Sushi Restaurant filled the place.

He covered his face and shook his head in disbelief, and you could only let small happy tears come out of your eyes.

"Baby! You did it! It's yours!" you said as he stood up in shock and wrapped his arms around you, swaying you for a moment before grabbing your face with both of his hands and placing a firm kiss to your lips, the cameras capturing the moment that you knew would make his fans go insane.

"I love you so much." he pecked your lips one final time before he got on stage with Tyler and Tom.

With his Grammy in hand, Harry stood in front of the mic, "Shit!" he begun, "I mean—shit! Man—um—I’ve been so, so inspired by every artist in this category with me. At a lot of different times in my life I listen to everyone in this category when I’m alone.” he took a breath, "I think on nights like tonight, it’s obviously so important for us to remember that there is no such thing as best in music. I don’t think any of us sit in the studio thinking, making decisions based on what is gonna get us one of these.”

You looked at him in complete awe, you weren't looking at a Harry Styles winning album of the year at the Grammys, you were looking at the love of your life accomplishing one of his biggest dreams.

"I would like to thank my family for always supporting me, my collaborators for creating this record with me," he paused to smile, "And I would love to thank the amazing woman who's here with me tonight, my girlfriend. Thank your being my muse and my biggest supporter, I love you."

And as if it was the first sentence you ever learned, you instantly mouthed an "I love you" back to him, unaware of the cameras catching your reactions.

"This is really, really kind. I'm so grateful. This doesn't happen to people like me very often. Thank you."

After Tyler and Tom took the mic to say their speeches, the three of them were off the stage.

"How do you feel?" he asked you as soon as he approached you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

"I'll give you a sappy speech later, right now I just really want to kiss my Grammy winner boyfriend."

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches s @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles s @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @noitsmebecky @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @eviesaurusrex @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @harrybabyyyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay @goldensstateofgrace @missmielyhoran @fdl305 @lightsoutstyles

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lucywritesagain · 2 months

Text

The one with the pillow fort and lovestruck god

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈﹕Loki masterlist ꒰ ᐢ｡- ༝ -｡ᐢ ꒱ Navigation ﹕┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

Please note that this story is a repost from my old blog @lucywrites02.

Summary: You and Loki decided to build a pillow fort

Word count: 733

“Y/N, we need more blankets!” your boyfriend shouted from the living room as you were looking for those old christmas lights that were somewhere in your room. The two of you were supposed to go out to a fancy restaurant for your date but Loki wasn’t feeling well and so you decided to hang out at your place and watch some movies. As Loki was looking for something worthy of watching you proposed an idea to build a pillow fort. At first the god was confused but after you explained the concept of pillow forts his eyes lit up and he immediately started to gather bedsheets, blankets and pillows.

And here you are now, trying to find those damned lights. You were searching through all of the boxes that were stacked on the back of your closet.

“Do you have those blankets?” Loki asked again

“I’m looking for christmas lights!” you responded

“I already have them here” you signed and closed your closet door. As you entered the living room you noticed that your couch cushions were on the floor alongside most of your pillows. You watched as Loki tried to attach a blanket to one of the bookshelves but failed miserably “Why didn’t you bring more blankets?” you only laughed in response

“I think that this-” you said, pointing at the pail of bedsheets and blankets right beside your partner “is enough to build a fort”

“Darling,” Loki walked over to you and took your face in his hands, smiling lovingly at you “I will build us a palace!” he announced and pecked your lips with his. You smiled into the kiss and put your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Before this situation could have gotten any more R-18 Loki pulled back. “I think we have some work, petal” who would have thought that such a simple thing as building a pillow fort would make Loki so happy. He was feeling like a little child again.

And so the two of you started to tuck as many blankets under the books on your shelf as you possibly could. You were putting the lights up while Loki tried to find a perfect playlist. The whole thing felt so domestic, so intimate. You wondered how it would be if the two of you were living together. You were only dating for three months but you knew he was the one. You didn’t realise this but Loki felt the same way. The god of mischief was utterly in love with you, he was just waiting for a good moment to voice his feelings. As the music started to play Loki embraced you from behind and swayed you to the rhythm. You dropped the remaining lights on the pillows and took his hands in yours. The two of you stayed like this for a while, enjoying the moment. You turned around and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll order some food” you announced “Do you want anything specific?”

“Can I have you, please?” he responded with a smirk

“Pizza or sushi?” you asked, playfully pinching his cheek “You can have me later” you winked at him and walked away. Loki just smiled at you. Norns! He was so in love with you!

“Let’s have pizza tonight!” he answered. You couldn’t see it but the god was blushing like stupid.

The two of you were laying down in your fort, I mean, castle as the last minutes of “My neighbor Totoro” played on your TV. Pizza boxes and empty mugs were scattered across your living room but you didn’t mind the mess. The only thing that you were focused on was the god who you’ve been cuddling with this whole evening.

“What do you want to watch next?” Loki asked and you realised that the movie was already over.

“I don’t think I want to watch anything else tonight” you announced and yawned involuntarily. Loki took the remote and turned the TV down. He kissed your head and pulled you even closer to him. Your foreheads were touching as you gazed into each other's eyes. If Loki had any doubts before, there were all gone now. Loki’s lips ghosted over yours but before you could kiss him, he whispered those sweet words you wanted to hear for so long. And his heart skipped a beat when you said them back.

#ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- I did that #loki #loki x reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 10 months

Text

Uni Love II

Deyna Castellanos x Reader

Summary: You'll follow Deyna anywhere

It was a no-brainer, really.

To follow Deyna from America to Spain. You didn't have roots firmly planted in America anyway, more than happy to disappear across the world with her.

You roll your eyes as girls tumble into your apartment, organised chaos as they strip off their shoes and jackets. You've got a patient file on your lap, jotting down the last of your notes before you slam it shut and place it in your filing cabinet.

"Hola, y/n!" Laia cries as she vaults over the back of the sofa.

You roll your eyes again as you slap her feet off the coffee table and then turn to slap at Elena as she takes a sip from your water. "You are too comfortable in this house!" You declare but they ignore you, fighting over the remote as you make your way to the kitchen.

You lean against the fridge, arms crossed over your chest. "Your teammates are children."

Deyna smiles at you, crossing the space and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "But you love them anyway?"

"I love you," You reply," I can tolerate them." You open the fridge. "And I'm not cooking for them. If they want food, they've got to order it."

Deyna nods, yelling out your orders to the rest of the girls in your lounge. "How was work?"

"Long, boring." You shrug. "The usual. I had a teenager come in today looking for antibiotics to treat an STI." You groan. "And then an old granny who definitely is hooking up with the twenty-year old carer that brought her in."

Deyna winces at you weary tone and pulls you into a hug, letting you rest your head against her shoulder. You slump against her and close your eyes, content to sway back and forth in her arms.

"Oi! Lovebirds!" The voice of Laia cuts through your relaxed bubble. "Can we order sushi?"

"You brought her home," You say into Deyna's shoulder," You talk to her."

"She's not a dog."

"No? One of those yappy terriers? Barks when you're eating dinner? Squares up to the bigger dogs?"

You can hear Laia stamp her foot from where she's waiting for your answer in the doorway. "I'm right here!"

You pull yourself out of Deyna's embrace and run a hand over your face. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"

"No!"

"No sushi for you." You kiss Deyna's cheek and brush past Laia back to the lounge.

"But! y/n! That's not fair!"

●～●～●～●～

Trading sunny Spain for rainy England had also been a no brainer.

England was always hunting for doctors so getting a job was easy enough and Deyna settling in at City was even easier.

"Don't touch that!" You snap, firmly placing the ice pack back onto Deyna's swollen ankle, having taken a nasty fall at training.

"It's fine!" Deyna whines, trying once again to remove it. "It's cold!"

"It's meant to be cold!" You whirl around to tuck Laia back into the blankets. "You! Stay still!"

"y/n," She whines too but you silence her with a look. She'd come bursting into your home with the chill and you'd immediately tucked her into a seat with a blanket.

"No!"

You glance around the room, happy that your two patients are doing as you say before falling back on the sofa and grabbing the remote, flicking away from the football game playing.

Laia whines at that too but Deyna doesn't. Instead, she leans her head on your shoulder and places a placating kiss on your neck. You lean into her body too, arm moving to wrap around her shoulders as Laia continues complaining.

"Do we have to keep letting her in?" You ask softly as Laia gets tangled in the blankets as she tries to free herself.

Deyna grins at you. "She'll just bang on the door until we let her in again."

You groan, loudly before returning Deyna's smile. "How's your ankle? Feeling better?"

"Freezing."

You roll your eyes. "But better?"

Deyna rolls her eyes too. "Yeah," She admits finally," It does."

You cup your ear and give her a teasing grin. "What was that? Sorry, I can't quite hear you?"

She sighs, loud and drawn out. "Thank you for your unsolicited medical advice."

You flick her ear. "I'm a doctor. You have the pleasure of getting unsolicited medical advice every day."

She rubs her ear but still presses kisses to your lips. You grin at her, surging forward to slip your tongue into her mouth. She kisses back, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

Your front door slams open though and you break away, catching Laia's eye (who looks suitably horrified at having seen you and Deyna kissing like that) before turning to look down the hall.

Leila's there - another one of the strays that Deyna's picked up along the way - and you have to suppress a scream of annoyance when you catch the bruise forming along her cheekbone.

"It was an accident!"

#woso x reader #deyna castellanos x reader #deyna castellanos #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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astroboots · 2 years

Text

RED FLAGS ║ PART 7

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: Your subconscious is trying to tell you something important about the choices you have to make. Or alternatively: is it still a threesome if the two men are alters?

Content: Stefon voice: This chapter has everything: angst, vaginal sex, anal sex, threesomes, DP sex.

Word Count: 8,165

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You stare up at the shadows on the ceiling above your bed, willing yourself to fall asleep.

But it’s simply not happening.

Every time you close your eyes to the darkness, your brain takes it as an invitation to play a slideshow of this evening’s highlights.

Marc showing up at your door, Marc holding you on the DLR, Marc's face inches from your own in front of the fish tank, Marc tucking you into the taxi. The images play behind your eyelids over and over and over again like a broken merry-go-round until you’re dizzy with it and dart up from your bed to pace the distance of your flat for a good twenty minutes, calming your jittery nerves enough that you can lay still long enough, close your eyes– only for the reel to start again.

Get up–walk around–lie down–replay–and so it goes. Again and again and again.

You don’t get much sleep that night.

Friday morning comes early.

You must’ve fallen asleep at some point because you wake to your alarm blaring, but your sore back and the heavy dull ache behind your eyes tell you it was not nearly enough rest.

One look at the clock informs you that you have 15 minutes to get yourself together and out the door or you’ll be late for work. It’s a mad scramble, and you earn yourself a bruised shin courtesy of the bloody ottoman, but you make it out the door and to the tube just in time, dashing down the stairs and squeezing yourself through the already-closing doors as the morning commuters around you grumble.

Pressed up between a grumpy construction worker and an even grumpier 20-something office worker, you’re holding onto your belongings for dear life as the train sways, trying to make sure you’ve got everything you’re meant to, when you realise the jacket in your hand is not one of your own.

It’s Marc’s.

There’s no need for another layer in the overpacked warmth of the train, and it’d be too hard to manoeuvre yourself into it in the minimally-available free space anyhow. You drape it over your arm instead, the way you might if you were just… holding it for a friend. There it stays for the entirety of your commute until you exit the station into the damp chill of late Autumn London fog so heavy it’s nearly drizzling.

You glance at the jacket. The sensible thing to do here would be to just put the bloody thing on, but for some reason you can’t quite bring yourself to do it. Instead, you shiver your way through the two block walk to your office, arriving cold and clammy and feeling all together out of sorts.

On top of that, your sleepless night and slapdash makeup application are apparently not doing you any favours, because once you arrive at work, no less than three of your coworkers ask if you’re ill. With as polite of a smile you can muster, you push off their concern and get to work. Busying yourself with small, mindless tasks, you manage to get through most of the morning without thinking overly much about anything.

That lasts right up until 11:47am when your phone pings out, rattling against the surface of your desk.

Steven Hiya love! 🥰 What did the sushi 🍣 say to the bee 🐝?

Steven’s silly random texts usually bring a smile to your face, and this one still does, but today it’s accompanied by a sickening swoop of your stomach and a heavy feeling that weighs you down, slowing your fingers so that it takes you twice as long as usual to type a response.

You I don’t know… What did it say?

Steve Waaaasa-bee!!!!! 🤪🤪🤪

You Oh my god!

Steven Speaking of which, how do you feel about sushi for dinner tonight? Shall I get us some from that Eat Tokyo place on my way to your office? 🍣🍱😊

You glance at Marc’s jacket where it’s sitting, innocently folded atop your purse by the side of your desk, and tear your eyes away. Guilt over your actions yesterday comes crashing down on you all over again like a ton of bricks. You can’t imagine sitting with Steven in his flat eating dinner under the watchful eyes of Gus 2.0, The Imposter while lying to his face about what you did last night. The very idea makes your already unhappy stomach turn.

You Sorry. I have Friday social drinks with the team tonight and I’m getting the side eye for having missed too many. Raincheck? xx

Drinks with your team is predictably awful.

It’s a longstanding social obligation at the end of each week that you’ve never enjoyed. Too much boozing and Graham from two cubicles down tends to get handsy and start hovering too close once he’s on his sixth pint. You’ve happily foregone it most weeks since you started dating Steven.

Tonight though, it’s the lesser of two evils and the perfect excuse.

Since it’s Friday, the pub closest to your office is an overpacked mess. The floors are sticky from spilt beer, and the rancid smell of what must either be old cider or piss has permanently seeped into the cracks of the wooden beams. You’ve entirely lost count of the number of elbows jammed into your back, and your voice has gone hoarse from shouting to be heard over the unnecessarily loud music and cluttered conversation taking place all around you.

The evening drags on. Sleep-deprived and exhausted, you find yourself zoning out, eyes drawn to the large fish tank in the corner of the pub. It’s a standard collection, a few guppies, a fat Gourami fish that shimmers red and a handful of goldfish swimming about.

One is almost orange in its goldenness, nothing like Gus’ more stark golden hue. Another one has the same colouring as Gus but is too skinny to pass, the third one… hmmm. That one is a bit more promising. It isn’t one finned, but it’s the right size and colour, and one fin is even a bit smaller than the other, so maybe–

Oh god, what are you doing?

Are you seriously scoping for another replacement fish right now? You need to stop.

Shaking your head to snap yourself out of it, you turn your attention back to the conversation at your table.

“My son’s gotten into a phase where he won’t stop watching Finding Nemo on rerun,” Poppy from accounting is saying next to you. “He loves that movie. Wants me to make him a Nemo costume for Halloween this year. Must’ve told me twenty times to ‘make sure it’s only got one fin.’”

A shiver works its way down your spine. The words feel accusatory somehow, even though you know that she couldn’t possibly have known what you were up to yesterday. You’re also pretty sure Nemo technically had two fins, one was just smaller than the other, but you’re not about to correct her when it’s all you can do to push down the image of Gus that’s trying to swim up to the surface of your mind.

From across the table one of the other accountants chimes in, saying how their kids love the movie as well, and then it’s a pile on of enthusiasm, everyone blathering on about their kids watching Nemo on rerun.

Nodding vaguely, you pretend to be following along in the conversation, but you keep having flashes throughout of the Imposter Fish and his two whole fins swimming around in Gus’ tank like he owns the place. Your skin prickles like you’re about to break out in hives.

You stand abruptly, nearly knocking your chair over in the process, earning yourself concerned and questioning stares from around the table.

Shit.

“I’ll… um… I’ll just grab another round for the table, shall I?” you blurt out, trying to salvage your dignity or at least the situation, then escape to the bar.

Ordinarily it would take an eternity to get the bartender’s attention on a busy night like this—a good twenty minutes to be spotted in the crowd, if you’re lucky. But tonight, on the one night when the wait would have been a welcome reprieve, the bartender spots you almost instantly and prepares your order with similarly unwelcome speed. That’s how you find yourself stacking pint after pint in your arms, cradling them as best as you can as you reluctantly start back towards your table not five minutes after you left.

You’re struggling to balance the drinks and evade the throng of people as you make your way through the crowded room when you spot him, and it feels like your heart stops.

There’s a man by the fish tank, his back leaning against a wooden beam. You only see him out of the corner of your eye at first, but the stiff, almost militant posture and rich black curls, slicked back but starting to unfurl from the heat and humidity of the pub, are unmistakable.

Why is he here!?

Time slows to a crawl, and you forget to breathe as the longest second you’ve ever experienced in your life stretches out and out and out until the lack of oxygen in your brain has you convinced that it’s Marc you’re staring up at. You walk forward, even as the firmness of the floor beneath you gives. All you can see is his wide back covered by the brown canvas jacket, identical to the one Marc had lent you last night. But that can’t be right, because you still have it. It’s on your chair, isn’t it?

Time has never unfolded so slowly as you watch the man turn his shoulder, presenting a full view of his face only for you to see that his eyes aren’t gorgeously brown. Nose, nothing at all remarkable or unique. His jaw is round instead of the ridiculously cut sharpness you’re so used to seeing.

There’s not a single feature in the man’s face that is as sharp or striking as Marc and Steven and with that realisation time slams forward then resumes its normal pace. Your stomach drops, landing on the sticky flooring near your feet.

You don’t want to be here.

Turning back to your table, you drop off the ordered drinks, as you murmur an apology about needing the loo.

Mumbling ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s as you dash through the throng of crowds, you push your way to the ladies room at the far end of the pub where you find your salvation through the door marked with a silhouette of a woman.

There’s a row of stalls, but you don’t bother checking each for cleanliness the way you usually do. Just make a beeline for the furthest one, thankful that it turns out to be unoccupied. You flip the lock and sit down on the rim of the toilet, eyes flitting over the bits of used gum that’ve been rolled up and tacked onto the cracked tiles. There’s soggy bog roll pooling around your shoes courtesy of a previous visitor, but you scarcely care, too relieved to have some space for yourself to just breathe for the first time this evening, without interruptions or anything to remind you of Gus or Marc or Steven.

That reprieve barely lasts for two seconds.

As if on cue, the main door to the ladies slams open. A group of women pours in, all shouting zealously, and there’s no sound isolation to protect you from hearing every bit of the conversation from where you sit.

“Pet, listen to me. If he loved you, he wouldn’t be lying to you now would he?” comes a shrill, concerned voice.

“It’s not like that. You don’t understand, he was just worried about how I’d take–” Before she even finishes her sentence, another voice cuts in, even shriller than the first.

“No! I don’t care what his excuse is. No partner worth a damn would lie to someone they’re in a relationship with. You need to dump that liar!”

The words plunge into your chest with a painful twist that tears through your insides, making your cheeks and eyes both burn. The universe certainly seems set on hammering some point home tonight, but this is really just a bit unfairly on the nose now, isn’t it?

Hunching over in the cramped space of the stall, you dig your elbows into your knees and hide your face in your hands. You don’t want to be listening to this. Can’t handle it right now. Just can’t.

Quickly, before they have time to say more, you stand and smooth a hand over your clothes and hair, as though making yourself a smidge more presentable might somehow smooth out some of your inner turmoil.

Taking a deep steadying breath, you exit the stall. You hesitate for a moment before approaching the sink and hurriedly washing your hands, not quite willing to sacrifice personal hygiene or the appearance, at least, of normalcy. By now, the group of women have converged on their unlucky friend, cornering her against the far wall as they continue to rant on about lying liars who lie and exactly what liars deserve. (The worst, apparently, as far as these ladies are concerned.)

Oh god. You have to get out of here.

You do, hastily fleeing the loo and fighting your way back to the table. You must look as rough as you feel, because you don’t even have a chance to open your mouth before Poppy shoots you a concerned look.

“Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost.”

“Um… No, actually.” Grabbing the lifeline that’s been offered, you make a dramatic showing of feeling ill, “I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather all day, and it’s really caught up with me now. I’m going to head off early tonight.”

You nod your way through the condolences and well wishes, picking up your handbag and gingerly retrieving Marc’s jacket from the back of the chair as you make your polite goodbyes by rote, and then exit the pub as quickly as possible given the crowd.

Outside, the rain is bucketing down. It’s standard weather for London this time of year, but tonight it feels like one more bit of pointed commentary by the universe, and you huddle miserably under the pub awning.

You just want to go home.

Steven’s place is only two stops away by tube—if you leave now, you can be there in less than eight minutes. But even as you think it, you realise you can’t go to his. As much as you want Steven, want to burrow into the comfort of his embrace and never come out again, that wouldn’t be fair to him.

Instead you unlock your phone and pull up the Uber app.

It’s Friday, in the centre of Soho, and the only Uber that accepted your request is 30 minutes away (having to make a drop that is nowhere nearby, despite what the app is telling you) not to mention the surge in pricing. You confirm anyway, unable to bear the thought of braving the crowded trains for the long commute back to your flat.

Then you wait.

The awning isn’t nearly wide enough to protect you from the rain, and frigid water rebounds off the concrete, splashing onto your feet and legs and soaking through your shoes until your toes are swimming in the cold dampness of your socks.

Marc’s jacket is folded neatly over your arm, still dry. You think about how warm it was in the cab last night, how it smelled of him, but even with the chill seeping through your jumper, you still can’t bring yourself to put it on. For a brief second, you consider going back into the pub where it’s warm and dry, but being cold and wet seems like the preferred option at the moment. It feels like what you deserve.

This is a right proper bloody fucking mess, and it’s all your fault.

You and Marc almost kissed. Might have done if he hadn’t pulled back. You might have betrayed Steven—the man you love. And for what?

You’re attracted to Marc. You can admit that much to yourself.

You try to tell yourself it’s just because you’re attracted to the body he shares with Steven, but you know it’s more than that.

You’ve grown to care about Marc independently of his connection to Steven. You look forward to the quiet mornings you spend with him. Enjoy watching his micro-expressions while you prattle on about your days during breakfast. The small quirk on one side of his lip, when you tell him something he finds amusing. The way he grunts like a displeased pug when he spots another mess that Steven has left in the kitchen.

Impossible though it had seemed to begin, he’s become your friend. There’s no denying that after your ridiculous caper with the fish last night—you’d only go that far for a good friend, a trusted one.

Someone you really care about.

Someone you almost kissed.

You huff out a choked laugh and bury your face in your hands, disgusted with yourself all over again.

But it’s not really even about the almost-kiss, is it? Though that’s certainly bad enough.

It’s about the fact that you’re lying to your boyfriend—mostly by omission, but sometimes also… not. That you’ve been lying to him for so long that it’s somehow become a “normal” part of your everyday life. So routine you’d almost forgotten you were doing it.

It’s about the fact that Marc—your friend Marc—came to you for help, and you were so eager to help him that you didn’t stop to consider the consequences. That now you’ve gone from lying to Steven—your boyfriend Steven—to actively helping to deceive him.

Somewhere along the way, you stopped seeing Marc as the antagonist in the story of your lives together. And now you've allowed yourself to become his co-conspirator against Steven, which is exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

You’re deceiving Steven for Marc. Going along with him because he says it’s better for Steven that way. But is it? Is it really better? You don’t think so, but… you don’t know.

You believe that Marc wants what’s best for Steven.

You believe Steven deserves to know the truth about himself.

Two truths, but incompatible ones. And you’re the one stuck in the middle. It’s an impossible choice. No matter what you do now, you’re going to be betraying someone. Choosing one of them over the other.

And you don’t know how to live with that.

Bile rises in your throat, and you have to close your eyes and swallow hard. You dig your fingers into the material of Marc’s jacket, twisting it in your hands as you curl into yourself.

You’re so caught up in your misery that you barely register the slosh of tires against the rain, looking up just in time to see your Uber pull up to the curb. Hunching your shoulders, you hug the jacket and your bag to your chest, shielding them from the flood of frigid water that drenches you as soon as you leave the protection of the awning, and quickly make your way across the sidewalk.

Climbing hurriedly inside the vehicle, you close the door behind you and set everything on the seat beside you, guiltily smoothing out the wrinkles in Marc’s jacket caused by your rough handling.

“Bloody hell, sweetheart, you’re soaked. That’s London weather for you innit?” the driver remarks, and you look up to see him watching you in the rearview mirror.

He’s not wrong. You feel like a drowned rat, as you catch sight of your reflection in the darkness of the passenger window.

“Same as always, isn’t it?” you manage, hoping that will be the end of the forced pleasantries, and you’re grateful when he hums in agreement and turns his attention to the road.

The air in the car is warm and stuffy after the wet chill of the outside, the leather seat hot and sticky against your back even through your wet jumper. Your face feels overheated, and you lean your forehead against the coolness of the windowpane, staring blindly out through the rain-fogged glass as the car pulls away from the curb.

The evening traffic outside seems endless. The road is chockablock, and you’re stuck in a sea of red and amber tail lights blinking blurrily behind the rain-streaked darkness of the window. Your head rolls against the glass with the rocking motion of the vehicle as it starts and stops with the flow of cars outside, and the old motor rumbles on, making you drowsy.

Worn out from the lack of sleep last night and a day of emotional turmoil, you don’t even notice when your eyes slip close and you drift quietly off to sleep.

The car comes to a halt in the middle of a roundabout. In the rearview mirror, the driver pulls his cap down, covering his eyes and muttering under his breath that “this is as far as we go.”

Looking out the window, you’re confused. There’s nothing you recognize as being anywhere near your flat, but somehow you’re already turning the door handle and stepping out of the car.

You’re in the middle of the road, traffic on all sides of you. Before you have a chance to turn around and protest to the driver, the car is already pulling away, exhaust fumes your only goodbye.

At least it’s stopped raining.

Across the wide street, the St. Martin’s Theatre is lit up in gold. The marquee banner spelling out ‘M.O.U.S.E.T.R.A.P.’ in bright glowing red neon. You start to walk ahead, but nothing is quite as it is or where it should be. Tottenham Court road, which is always busy and buzzing with life, is entirely abandoned. Empty of people.

Next to you, you spot a pastel-coloured bubble tea shop. They’re a dime in a dozen in London, and it does nothing to help you make sense of where you are. It’s not until you reach around the corner and arrive at the familiar teal-coloured facade of Cafe Babka (one of your regular date spots with Steven) that you start to place yourself.

If you turn right up ahead, you’ll reach the British Museum. It is an hour away by tube from your flat. Still, as you make the turn, your building stands there in its square concrete familiarity. You can even see your small balconette on the fifth floor.

There’s a sensation like skipping a track on a record—you don’t remember entering the building or taking the lift up to the fifth floor, but suddenly you’re walking down the hallway to your flat.

Steven is there outside of your door, and the hallway lights up when he greets you with a bright smile and a small wave of his hand. His eyes are as sweet as always when he moves to kiss you.

Then you’re inside your flat, Steven moving with you towards your bed, mouth never leaving yours. Did you unlock the door? You can’t remember, but does it matter? How can you care about details like that when Steven’s lips are on yours like this, soft but hungry.

Somehow, you don’t stumble or run into any of your furniture as he walks you backwards with his kiss, the ottoman and its usual threat to your shins and balance are suspiciously absent. In fact… nothing is where it should be.

You’re disoriented.

Maybe it’s a testament to how good of a kisser Steven is that you’re losing all spatial awareness, but that can’t be the whole explanation. Something is off, but you can’t stop long enough to consider it, too distracted by the way Steven keeps pressing kiss after sweet lingering kiss to your lips, by the heat building low in your belly for him. Can’t stop to think until you find yourself pressed down against the mattress.

Linen sheets stretch endlessly out underneath you, wider than your own double mattress and lower to the ground. There’s sand underneath your foot where it’s hanging off the edge of the bed, and when you look up, you’re met not with your drab white ceiling, but with a large square of wooden planks overhead surrounded by wide open eaves and wooden beams.

This isn’t your flat, it’s Steven’s.

But still… Something's strange. Not quite right. The room seems to swim, lines and contours of the timber overhead blurring together. You drag your eyes to the walls, trying to clear your vision, but no matter how hard you concentrate on the many many books Steven has adorning his dusty shelves, none of them have titles on their thick spines.

That’s not right either.

In fact, everything in Steven’s flat is reversed, like you’re Alice, gone through the looking glass. Shelves that are meant to be on the left are on the right. The kitchen is by the exit instead of the far end. The fish tank looms large over the living room, expanding to eat up half the space of the flat. Gus doesn’t seem to mind though. He’s swimming in happy circles around his new, two-finned tank mate as if he’d never known anything different. Every so often one of them swims close to the corner, and the flash of a reflected fin tricks your eyes into thinking there’s a third fish.

There’s a part of you that wants to pause, take a moment and attempt to make sense of things. But Steven is there, anchoring you to the bed, not giving you a moment to consider your observations or try to connect the dots as he continues to kiss the breath out of you.

His hands are roaming your hips and thighs now, caressing every inch of your flesh that he can reach. One comes up to cup your breast lovingly, your nipple drawing up tight under his palm. Another hand lingers delicately on your throat, and he continues to stroke your hips all at the same time.

It’s good, so good. So much. Overwhelming to the point where you don't even fully register that there are three hands caressing you when, biologically speaking, Steven should only have just the two.

Greedy and determined, those nimble fingers grip into your hips then drift down between your thighs, sliding along the seam of your cunt. Steven groans low and needy against your lips at the wetness he finds there, and he parts your slick folds, gently pressing two fingers into you.

Moaning into his mouth at the pleasurable intrusion, you arch your back in open invitation, encouraging Steven's curled fingers to find that perfect place inside. Aching heat rolls over you in waves, streaming out along your limbs until you’re nearly numb with it. You bend further back, not sure if you're trying to chase the sensation or escape from it. As you do, a warm, firmly-muscled chest presses against your back, and you hear a rasped groan in your ear.

“Fuck, you’re eager for us.”

The tone is brusque and even, rough and warm like sandpaper made of velvet, and nothing like Steven’s. Electric heat shivers up your entire spine because you recognize the owner of the voice.

With a turn of your head, you meet his eyes. It’s all narrowed darkness as Marc holds your gaze for a long moment. His thumb catches under your jaw, tilting you up to him, and then he closes the distance between you, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

Finally.

The brush of lips is soft and measured. Completely unlike Steven’s hungry and eager kisses. Marc has far too much restraint for that. Instead his kiss is slow and controlled, his hand cradling your jaw, thumb caressing your cheeks like he’s savouring the moment. Savouring you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, an alert pings. A tiny, niggling doubt that makes you wonder what Marc’s doing here, how this can be happening. But you ignore the thought. Don’t question it, because god, you fucking want it. Want him.

Want to be exactly where you are.

You're caught, sandwiched tight between the two of them with little space to spare. Regardless of which way you move, to the front or the back, you only end up closer to them both.

When you push yourself forward, Steven’s fingers slide deeper inside you, his cock twitching against the softness of your stomach. When you push back, Marc’s hardened length meets you, pressing insistently against your lower back as he lazily thrusts against you.

There's nowhere for you to go, and that's fine. Better than fine. It's bloody perfect, because there's nowhere else you'd rather be than trapped between these two men.

Steven licks and nips his way down your breast and stomach in a long line of open-mouthed kisses. White heat tingles and simmers under your skin where his lips have touched, burning you up from the inside out until you’ve all but melted into the mattress from his attentions.

The sharp bump of his nose nudges at the inside of your thighs, and he looks up at you with pleading eyes, begging you to spread your legs for him. Before you even have the chance to comply, Marc’s calloused hands are already there, sliding down and in along the inside of your thighs, spreading them apart until you’re wide open for Steven. The two men moving in perfect simpatico.

Then Steven’s mouth is on you, hot and eager and perfect.

His tongue dips into your pussy without hesitation, licking a wide strip up around your clit and then back down again, and you cant your hips up and onto his tongue. He doesn’t resist. Steven’s always so generous, so trusting and giving in bed. He lets you—encourages you to try and fuck yourself on his beautiful, persistent mouth. Gorgeous, pleasurable heat flickers along your spine, searing into your limbs until you feel it everywhere.

“He’s good with his mouth, huh?” Marc murmurs into your ear, sounding almost admiring.

Opening your mouth, you try to say yes, but your throat is dry with the blinding heat, and nothing comes out, not even a moan. Electricity sparks, shimmering through you with every soft and long lick of Steven’s tongue on you.

You twist your fingers into the bedding beneath you, and the eaves in the ceiling crack and pull around the edges with the motion. The harder you grip the sheets, the deeper the shadowed lines carve into the wood, until they’re giant crevasses, wide enough that you can see the night sky through the gaps.

The pale moon peers down at you, surrounded by bright stars scattered against the blackness. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the stars shine so clear in the light-polluted London sky in all your life, and you dig your fingers in further into the bedding, unwilling to relinquish the view.

“It’s okay. I got you.” Marc’s voice is cajoling and sweet, the same soft tone he used when he held you in his arms to keep you steady on the overground. A part of you wishes he would always speak to you this way. “Think you can come for us?”

You close your eyes, nodding in reply because you think you’d do anything he wanted as long as he asked you so sweetly. Pleasure is already building steadily under the press of Steven’s talented mouth, your orgasm already looming on the horizon.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good,” Marc murmurs.

Everything is ratcheting higher and tighter inside of you, building and building until it’s almost too much. Too good. The feeling rocketing through you is so overwhelming that you can't think, can't move, can’t speak. Would scream or sob or shriek if you could still fucking breathe.

But somehow you still haven’t fucking come. Your orgasm caught somehow, suspended in limbo. It’s like you waited too long, flew too high, and now you're trapped right on the fucking edge, teetering torturously without ever falling over. Sparks dance at the edge of your vision, and you feel lightheaded like you’re going to pass out.

“Come for us.”

Marc’s voice cuts through the cacophony of competing sensations with that single simple order, and everything else disappears.

Your world narrows. There's only the firm weight of Marc’s body anchoring you to the bed. His low, encouraging voice in your ear, whispering praises. Steven’s mouth working hot and eager against you, and the soft warmth in his eyes as he stares up at you with rapt attention, pupils blown wide.

Static fills your ears, and then you come hard on Steven’s tongue.

The pleasure floods your system, blotting out the rest, until your vision darkens and everything sounds like it’s buried underground.

There’s nothing here. Just emptiness. Darkness a mile wide, like the insides of a music box snapped shut.

Are your eyes still closed?

Slowly, your vision repopulates again. Your surroundings filled in like a child playing with a paint-by-numbers app. The bed. The bookshelves. The fishtank. Steven. Marc.

Marc whose gentle hand cups your cheek, drawing you up to meet his eyes. “How do you want it?” he asks. “You want Steven to fuck you?”

Steven who is still draped between your thighs. His tongue drags over his lush bottom lip, savouring your taste, eyes dark and ravenous as he leans back in to lap gently at you again. He’s nowhere near done with you yet.

You huff out a noise, some strange merger of a moan and a hum, meant to be an affirmative, because of course you want Steven.

But your gaze is fixed on Marc’s face, watching the corner of his lips curve. Not snide, or mocking, never that. It’s the same unfeigned, half-smile you’d seen in front of the fishtank the other night, and your head buzzes with lightheadedness at the sight of it.

“Or you want me?” he asks.

You whine at his question, because you do. Of course you do!

But Steven is right there too, resurfacing from between your legs just barely long enough to press an indulgent kiss to the inside of one of your thighs and ask, "which is it, love? Me?"

He turns his head, nose brushing up against your clit as his mouth parts, licking into you, with a ravenous moan. His words are muffled by your body as he continues to speak, “Or do you want Marc's cock filling you up?"

You don’t answer him. Can’t answer him. It’s an impossible choice.

How can you choose one of them over the other?

Next to you, Marc leans closer, pressing a kiss to your temple, nose dragging along the back of your neck, as he speaks.

“Or maybe our pretty girl doesn’t want to choose, hmm?” His arms are against your sides, bracketed you in as he presses you down with his body. “That’s it isn’t it? You just want everything.”

And god help you, he's right. He's so right. You want them both.

You try to take a deep breath, try to inhale because you want to tell them so, but there’s no air in the room. That should be a problem, you think, but it’s not. Even though you’re not breathing, haven’t breathed for fuck knows how long, you feel fine.

So much better than fine.

You’re weightless, practically floating. Could easily drift away if Marc wasn’t pinning you down. Your orgasm is still pulsing between your legs, warm and insistent, but you can’t feel the pulse in your veins or your heart, even though it should be there beating its way out of your chest.

Marc is still watching you softly. Steven too. You nod at them, have to let them know.

“Greedy girl,” Marc says, voice soft and indulgent in a way that makes the words feel like the highest praise.

Wrapping his fingers around your arm, Marc rolls you onto your side facing him. Strong arms wrap around you, caging you against him, as those dark eyes bore into yours. You can barely imagine that there was ever a time that you used to be intimidated by this man, scared of him even, because all you want now is to be closer to him.

Lucky for you, that’s just what he gives you.

Like he can read your mind, Marc’s hand settles on your hip and slides down, down, down the length of your thigh until his palm reaches the bend of your knee. Warm fingers wrap around the joint and pull, hiking your leg up over his waist, opening you to him. He drops his face down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, then urges you closer still, slotting one thick thigh into place between yours, watching you all the while.

There was a time when you would have quailed under that direct stare, but when you see that ferocious intensity there now, it sends a skitter of elation down your spine.

Relishing his attention, you preen for him as his hand skims up the back of your raised leg and over your hip. Your eyes follow its path, watching as he takes himself in hand and aligns his cock with your slick wet entrance.

You’re a mess for him, dripping and swollen cunt providing no resistance as the blunt tip of his cock pushes in, slow and measured. Marc is unhurried, barely rocking his hips into you, and it’s maddeningly good. It’s all shivery heat and unbearable pressure as he eases his way inside, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt.

You can’t remember where you are anymore. Your surroundings blur together, and all you know is the perfect weight of Marc inside you, the warmth of his thighs pressed against yours. It’s just you and him in this place, and you could easily get lost in this, forget everything else, but… Something’s not right.

Something important is missing.

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, turning your head to look behind you, but there’s nothing there. No furniture, no room… nothing. You turn back to Marc, “Where’s Steven? I–I want–”

The question doesn’t have time to settle before everything fades back into existence, the bookshelves, the fishtank, the bed seemingly appear from nowhere. There’s a weight shifting behind you on the mattress, and when you turn to peer over your shoulder again, Steven is there, an adoring smile on his face.

“I’m here, love, right here. Not going anywhere,” he tells you when you clutch at him.

Steven’s chest is pressing up against your back, all solid and firm-cut muscles that you never get to see during the day when he’s half-drowning in his oversized clothes.

He has one hand resting on the curve of your hip, gently pulling you back as he presses in closer behind you. You can feel the fat head of his cock nudging hot and slick along the cleft of your ass.

“Can I? Is that alright, love? Want to be inside you.” His voice is desperate, filled with need, and fuck, who are you to deny the man you love?

You nod, and feel Steven repositioning himself behind you. His hand disappears from your hip, and his cock slides against you with more purpose, spreading precome across your skin as he lines himself up. His mouth skims your shoulder, and the shuddering breath he takes burns pleasantly across your skin before he grips your hip and presses in.

His cock slips into you more easily than you expected, barely easing inside before he retreats, then presses in again, a bit farther this time. His mouth lays hot kisses and tender words across the skin of your shoulder as he works himself inside you slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open and filling you to the brim.

If there was any space left inside of you, you’re sure that you would be breathing, but you can’t. Can’t even fit air inside your lungs. And oh fuck, Steven isn’t even all the way inside of you yet. Fuckfuck. You don’t know if you can–

A warm hand comes to your cheek, cupping it with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in your chest.

“It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re doing so good, baby. You can take it for us can’t you?” Marc coos.

You nod with a whine, trying to distract yourself with the softness of Steven’s touch. How he’s palming every inch of your skin he can reach, the slope of your ribs, the curve of your breast. His worshipful mouth on your neck. The softly murmured “I love you”s that he sears into your burning skin with his lips.

And that’s a bit easier.

Between Steven’s profuse adoration and Marc’s encouragement, it’s almost too easy to surrender the last bit of your doubt and give into them both.

“There we go. Good girl,” Marc murmurs. He presses an indulgent kiss to your cheek as a reward, and Steven takes over praising you, “that’s it. I knew you could do it. Knew you could take us both, love.”

Then they begin to move.

It’s a gentle rocking rhythm, barely shifting you back and forth between them, but even that is still so fucking much.

You’re overwrought.

Overfull.

All of you feel overexposed like a tender nerve.

But there’s nothing else for you to do but take it, shaking and shuddering between them as you take everything they have to give you. All you can think about is how full you are of both of them, stretched so thin to your limits to the point that you swear Marc and Steven must be able to feel each other through you with every slow, deep, maddening thrust.

Somewhere in the distance a bell rings. You turn your head and crane your neck, chasing the sound. The motion presses you back against Steven, who is right there, nuzzling into the side of your neck, nose pressed tight against the pulse.

His mouth glides over the side of your throat, hot and slick, and you lose yourself to it. The touch is consuming. The edges of his teeth flirt with your sensitive flesh, and then slowly sink in, biting into your neck. The pleasure is sharp and stinging. It’s almost enough to make you forget.

But the melody of bells ringing from afar grows increasingly louder. You try to ignore it but you are about to rip your hair out at the incessant clang.

“Ignore it,” Marc says. He cradles your face, lips tracing the contours of your jaw. “Focus on us.”

It isn’t hard to follow Marc’s commands. Not when his hips cant up and thrust back into you, a deep and mind-numbing slide. For once, you find yourself only happy to obey his words.

But the sound comes again, and you were wrong before. It's not bells, it's the doorbell buzzing. Someone's at the door.

There’s the sound of metal scraping against wood and then the metallic thump-thump of the lock sliding open. You try to squeeze down on Marc’s shoulder for his attention, but it only seems to spur on Steven who lifts his hips, thrusting himself inside you as deep as he goes.

“Wait,” you gasp, because no matter how good Steven feels inside, you’re still distracted by the stranger trying to get into the flat. “There’s someone at the door.”

“There’s no one at the door,” Marc says, pulling back slightly.

The words have a sharp impatient bite, scolding you in that tone that’s so customary from him. You want to frown, make a snarky retort, but he drives himself deep inside you, and pleasure streaks through your limbs until you nearly scream from it.

There are footsteps approaching.

A shadow stretches out in the corner of your eye.

Soon it looms over you, blocking out the muted light in the room, and the air around you shifts. There’s someone else standing at the end of your bed, observing you. You open your eyes and look up. Raven curls and thick brows that frame those familiar gorgeous brown eyes.

The ringing persists, blaring out. It’s not bells or the door buzzer. It’s a siren, flashing and waving red, warning you of danger.

The man looks like Steven. But you know it’s not him—the warmth and adoration reserved for you in those beautiful brown eyes is entirely absent.

It’s not Marc either. Marc doesn’t look at you like you’re some distant curiosity. You’ve seen annoyance, irritation, even anger reflected back at you in his eyes. But he’s never looked at you like you’re nothing to him.

You realise that now.

Panic grabs hold of you, and you sit up quickly, pulling at fistfuls of the sheets that you desperately cover yourself with. You scoot backwards in the bed, clambering up along the mattress, hands fumbling uselessly behind you, reaching for something to grab onto. You’re expecting the firmness of Marc’s chest, the warm touch of Steven’s hand, but there’s nothing.

When you turn to look, the bed is empty. Marc and Steven are no longer with you.

It’s just you and him now.

The man moves towards you, mouth twisted into a predatory smile. The alarm calls out to you again, but it’s too late to warn you now. You’re already trapped—can’t look away from him.

“Hear that?” His tone is flat, voice is devoid of emotion. It sounds neither like Steven's nor Marc’s voice. “It’s time to wake up.”

He comes to the side of the bed, looming over you as he reaches down.

You flinch back, but he’s too big. Too close.

You can’t escape.

Gripping the covers tight, you hunch into yourself, cowering, trying to brace yourself for whatever he’s going to do to you.

But then he reaches right past you.

Doesn’t touch you at all as he retrieves something from the bookcase at the head of the bed, and lays it gently across your lap.

You look down to see a bundle of brown canvas fabric, all soaked from rain and wrinkly from your rough handling.

It's Marc's jacket.

“Don’t forget this, sweetheart.”

With his words, darkness swamps you and everything disappears. There's no light, no warmth, no space—only a blank void slowly being filled with the soft hum of a motor running and the sounds of traffic honking nearby.

Your eyes are still closed as your consciousness is dragged back to an awareness of the sore stiffness lodged in your neck.

You open your eyes with a startled gasp, and then you have to inhale great lungfuls of air into your heaving chest, possibly the first time you’ve actually taken a breath since– oh. Since you fell asleep. You were dreaming.

Slowly but surely, you become aware of your surroundings. The cracked and dry leather seats, the grey felt of the low ceiling, the complete lack of any naked men in this space with you. You’re in a car—not in Steven’s flat or his bed. You’re still in the Uber.

It was just a dream.

Your skin tingles with the memory of being pressed against warm, firm muscles, and the space between your legs still pulses a phantom ache. The echo of Steven’s mouth on you, Marc’s thick length pressing into you, the overwhelming fullness of having them both inside you at once makes you throb. Your face is burning.

You glance at the front seat where the driver seems oblivious. Absent-mindedly you notice that he isn’t wearing a cap as you pray to the universe that you didn’t make any embarrassing sounds during your semi-public sex dream about being manhandled into a threesome by your boyfriend and his alter.

Dear god, what the fuck is wrong with you!?

The sound of bells fills the air just like before, and for a moment you wonder if you’re still trapped in the dream.

“Hey, sweetheart, your phone is ringing.”

The words jolt you from your thoughts. You’re an idiot. It’s not alarm bells, it’s your bloody ringtone.

Grabbing for your handbag, you plunge your hand inside, fumbling blindly until you finally manage to locate your phone. You quickly fish it out, swiping a thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, love. It’s– uhm, it’s Steven.” His voice comes through the phone, nervous and rambling, and it instantly sends your anxiety skyrocketing. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, and you’re out with colleagues, and I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb, but I didn’t know who else to call–”

“Steven!” you interrupt when he shows no signs of getting to the point. It comes out louder and harsher than you intend, and you then force yourself to soften your voice as you encourage him to gather his thoughts, “It’s okay, Steven. Just– What did you need?”

“Could you… um… Could you come over tonight, please? I need to talk to you.”

~ CONTINUE ~

Dedication: to my one and only, the ewe to my ram, my beloved who stays up with me until 4am (her time) to discuss the significant differences between precum and precome (and how the latter clearly denotes sophistication and class 😂😂😂) to our crazy asses that extended this from a three parter to a five parter then an eight and ten parter and now we're looking at twelve parts and if there is more to come then god help us all. I love you always @thirstworldproblemss. xx

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skele-bunny · 5 days

Note

GIVE ME MORE WATER DEW & MY LIFE IS YOURS ARU

cough anyways: ,,, water dew and delta pretty pleaseeee,,,,

There's a pipebomb in your mailbox that in 1.2 seconds will detonate. Expect it.

Where to start!! They first met in the open bay in the hospital, accidentally being sat next to each other. Just sniffing, pawing, trying to figure out this summon-mate... Unfortunately, the thing is, waters newly summoned can't be around each other that close at ALL. They're super vicious to those not from the same territory. Long story short, they tried mauling each other LMAO. They got separated and eventually had the slow meeting and calm around one another. The others tease them about it. "hey remember when you guys tried to kill each other?"

Delta was super attractive to Dew. He's never met an albino water before, just pure white that glows red and pink. Delta thought Dew was the most attractive thing he's ever seen, too. Once they were able to get past their territory differences and started being around each other, they kept attempting to court one another in the further months hehe. Little things like Dew ruffling his spine for Delta, and in return Delta would give his fallen teeth for him to have.

Swim!!! Obviously!!! They didn't really like swimming alone that much, and could always be found together in the lake; rare when not. Delta as a Moray Eel and Dew as a betta fish, they kept hiding and finding each other just for little chases. Delta was mainly the hider and Dew the seeker, just so curious and loved leading on the "hunt" for him. Delta preferred swimming at night but didn't mind negotiating with Dew to swim at sunset instead!

Speaking of hunt!!! Delta usually had the chore of assisting others with fishing and he always snuck a salmon to Dew since he knew it was his absolute favorite. Dew learned how to make sushi and he'd constantly pack Delta's lunch with at least 2 sushis rolls inside with tempura!!

Sometimes Delta would have difficulty with their second row of teeth, and Dew wouldn't mind helping brush and care for them. Dew didn't need the help but Delta always returned the favor for their own double fangs. Also is the one to help Delta with their angel fangs piercings once they got them. "You didn't have enough teeth already?"

Nesting to the fucking max. There's a little hideaway they found after spending the entire day travelling the lake, and have both a land nest and a water nest. Lotta seaweed, coontails, sunken lily pads, hydrilla, tape grass, and even small pebbles to outline it. If you see bubbles in there, don't ask. Their land one is in Delta's room as his room is bigger. So many plushies, blankets, pillows, and their clothes thrown in. Sometimes there's hoarded snacks within the mound, so they just have to dig around and not get up :3

Always linking tails during practice!!!! Delta is super stoic and doesn't move a lot, so it's such a different comparison to Dewdrop who's literally bouncing around, head banging, stomping, and swaying. They still have fun a whole bunch and always leans against each other. It sounds super cool when Dew is able to join them, two bases at once? Phew.

Spicy wise? Good god save us all. (CW - LACTATION, BREEDING KINK, EGGS)

It seemed like after spending more time together their heat/rut synced and everyone heard about it. Literally. It happened once during tour and Papa had to invest in headphones for everyone while they secluded Delta and Dew to the lounge. LOUD. AND HYPNOTIC. Before the headphones, Omega literally had to hold Alpha back. "YOU WILL BE EATEN IN THERE DO NOT!!"

Dew's always had a high egg count, now add in Delta's tentacle pumping him full? Honestly looked knocked up each time JENEKD. They preferred having sex in the tub or lake, but obviously that wasn't always possible so they'd make do. Big about breeding and Delta purring about fertilizing the eggs. They were so thankful birth control exists once they came out of their haze LMAO.

The one thing Dew honestly didn't like about their sync is Dew's chest would get super swollen and get ready to produce. Birth control or not, unfortunately that's how water ghoul anatomy is :,) Delta didn't mind helping massage the issue he helped cause, but sometimes the others would as well. Dew just melted in his hold and whining. Water ghoul milk is a lot more watery, too. One time Pebble tugged Dew's nipple, it shot out, and Delta had to coax Dew out of the bathroom while sobbing from the embarrassment after biting Pebble for doing that.

A specific thing before water ghouls fuck is they fight. Rain does this too, but he's a lot more docile since it's not with another water. One time they were in the common room, just growling and hitting at each other, fangs bared with blood. Aër tried separating only to see Dew's pants off and Delta's tentacle out, both calm the moment they seen him. "Oh! Sorry Aër, did you wanna join?" They got banned from having sex in the common room.

So about the bubbles in the water nest.... Yeah it's just Dew saying he wants to fuck. Betta fish do that to make little nests to prepare for eggs and it's very much an invitation for Delta when they're laying in their little nest. Loves touching over Delta's slit and coaxing his tentacle out just to show his own slit and teeth spread for him. Just pressed completely against each other, biting, clawing, and squirming together and desperate to keep their tails as close as possible.

Little freaks who I love so so much

#the band ghost #ghost band #rabrev writing #nsfwriting rambles #dewdrop ghoul #delta ghoul #cw lactation #cw breeding #cw breeding kink

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softevnstan · 2 years

Note

From the NSFW genarator

reader handing Bucky Barnes a bowl of cream/chocolate/honey and telling them to spread them on their own body where they want it eaten by reader. Bucky Barnes eagerly complies, and everything starts (or ends) with a sloppy smear on person Bucky Barnes's lips.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral!reader

summary. for valentine's day, bucky brings you a bowl of whipped cream and strawberries. with a game proposition, you very quickly come to learn you're hungry for a different type of cream.

warnings. bucky loves you with all his heart but he's also a hard dom at heart. misuse of strawberries and whipped cream, dom/sub undertones, spitting/spit, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, food play - whipped cream, facefucking, petnames (specifically 'doll' and 'sugar', but these are intended to be for any partner, not just f), fluff, pre-established relationship SMUT - minors DNI. reader's bits are not mentioned in depth here so gender is ambiguous, i like all of my stories to be as inclusive as i can make them :)

a.n. hi, nonny, i wanted this to be out on valentine's day but some things in my personal life held that up. additionally: kinda interpreted this a little bit of the way i wanted to and the way i thought i'd best enjoy writing it, so bucky is the one with the game in mind (bonus: listen to this song as your background music like i did to add to the experience) -- reader is nerdy and likes things like books and candles and reading (reader is me projecting lbr)

also winterdevil friendship briefly mentioned bc i can

w.c. 7.3k

You were only a few pages into your new book - ‘Good Omens’; You’d heard good things about the story in its witty writing and amusing tale.

Bucky had been paying attention when you’d both gone on a bookshop date and scoured the shelves hopefully for the novel. Even when asking about the bookstore’s directory, the worker reluctantly let you know the book wasn’t in stock. You’d shrugged the loss off with a warm smile; ‘Better luck next time, right?’

Imagine your delight when Bucky brought you a red gift bag with four golden arrows decoratively laid horizontally and stacked upon one another with the words ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. Inside the bag had even more delightful contents; Peeling past the elegant golden tissue paper, you were excited to find your very own copy of the novel you’d been unable to find in stores. Additionally was a box of chocolates and a candle scented ‘Rose & Apple’.

“Aw, Bucky,” you swooned, “I thought we said no gifts…?” “I know,” Bucky admitted, moving around the kitchen island to come to stand behind you; Arms of flesh and vibranium slowly winding around your waist to hug your body to his own, settling into a comfortable hold so naturally. “But I like seeing you smile.”

You looked fondly at the cover of the book, thumb gently brushing over the paperback cover before setting it down on the counter. You bit your lips together in an appreciative smile, and you felt Bucky’s grin against the side of your neck where he tucked away. Nose rubbing affectionately against your pulse before pressing a chaste kiss.

“...At least now you won’t feel surprised when I tell you I got you a few gifts of your own,” you reveal as you turn your head to usher Bucky’s chin up. “Oh, of course, you got me something anyways!” Bucky huffed on an amused laugh, eyes crinkled in the corners with his smile, and your heart was left to melt.

He nosed into you lovingly, nuzzling and then pressing foreheads together. You took the opportunity to drape your arms around Bucky’s shoulders in a warm embrace; the rest of your quiet valentine’s day was spent peacefully with expensive sushi ordered to your shared apartment, moving the furniture and putting his records on to sway together playfully with giggles and kisses, then wrapped up with movies in the living room and popcorn kernels in between the couch cushions from the way you’d been pelting pieces at one another. You needed no fancy dinners or dates. You both were capable of making a night-in a remarkable memory all on its own.

Though the favor you called in from Zemo wound up with gifting Bucky a signed copy of ‘The Hobbit’ signed by J.R.R. Tolkien himself, and that was pretty good at also making an evening remarkable. The absolute awe in Bucky’s eyes and the way he’d gone slack-jawed when unwrapping the book was worth the six digits that were poured into the cost. Zemo had more than enough to spend and was happily willing to pay off his debt. A book was child’s play for Baron - simple.

You'd only been a few pages into your new book; Having been eager to begin drinking in the story as soon as possible. Bucky knew you were a bookworm; it's part of what you two had so in common - Bucky knew how to appreciate a good story, too. Eagerly diving into the paperback and excitedly tearing through pages was what you did best; On Multiple occasions where Bucky and you had surprised one another with blind-book dates and annotated novels for one another, reading was perhaps a love language between the both of you.

So you’d think Bucky would’ve expected that from you as soon as that book was between your nimble fingers. Good luck with any attempts that may sway your attention or distract you as a whole; everyone should know it’s useless to try. But Bucky wasn’t everyone else. Bucky knew you and knew how to wriggle his way in between you and a good book.

And his key tool for that this evening seemed to be a wooden food tray with a bowl of hulled strawberries and a tub of whipped cream, and then an additional can that made you raise a brow. Any skepticism was dropped in moments given the natural delight you felt with Bucky in a room. When it was just the two of you, he was the sweetest man you’d ever met. “Surprise,” Bucky beamed softly, earning an amused smile from you in the process. He moved from the archway of the kitchen to step into the living room, rounding the coffee table to take his seat beside you on the couch.

“Strawberries? You shouldn’t have,” you hum appreciatively, picking up your bookmark to hold your page; You didn’t dog-ear your pages like some savage.

“Strawberries and Valentine’s Day go hand in hand last I checked. Whipped cream just makes it even better.” the soldier defends, earning a playful roll of your eyes.

“You’re makin’ me feel like a chump here, Bucky, we said no gifts and surprises,” you softly protest albeit with little sternness to your voice. Book abandoned on the side table of the couch, you leaned to reach for a piece of fruit.

“Ah ah ah,” Bucky stops you, vibranium hand coming to cover the mouth of the bowl. “This isn’t for nothin’, I wanna play a game, sweetheart…” The sultry purr to Bucky’s voice insinuates he’s up to no good. “Huh?” You pause, confused as you look between Bucky’s hand and the bowl. A game? “I should’ve known there’d be a catch. You’re a menace, James.” The words are light and teasing; No real harm behind them.

“Oh quit bein’ so dramatic,” Bucky playfully chides with a teasing pinch to your outer thigh - it makes you squeak in delight and burst into soft laughs before shooing his hand away. Bucky absolutely thrives on your smile and laugh; It drives him crazy. “I’m not dramatic, I’m melodramatic!” you titter happily. “Well, if by ‘melodramatic’ you mean ‘theatrical’,” Bucky commented with a mischievous grin as he safely set the tray on the coffee table. You took the liberty of pulling the throw pillow you’d been laying on and help it live up to its name; Hitting Bucky in the shoulder with the cushion for his ‘theatrical’ comment.

“You love me and my melodrama theatrics all the same, don’t act like you don’t.” “Alas, it’s true.” he sighs sweetly, nothing but love in his gray eyes as he says it; Smitten. The softness of it helps melt some of the banter that had been building. “...And what was this ‘game’ you were talking about, exactly, Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes light up with arousal, wetting his lips and treating the question as though he couldn’t wait to answer. “Have you ever plaid chicken before, sunshine?” Bucky inquires, and your head shakes side to side. “Alright, I brought out whipped cream. Wherever one person smears whipped cream, the other has to lick it off. The first one to refuse - or chicken out - loses.”

Your own gaze widens with delight at the sound of the provocative game. At least a game was something you could get behind, and it definitely had a means of spicing things up with Bucky; Not that your sex life was boring, but something new every now and again was exciting for the both of you.

“Aw,” Bucky tuts sympathetically, “I can see it on your face, poor thing. The way your eyes lit up… Sheesh, people are gonna think m’not takin’ care of my babydoll.” The heat that rises to your face is familiar and leaves your chest feeling fluttery. “You do take care of me, Bucky,” you softly utter, squeezing your thighs together. “I wanna play.” the words are airy when they leave your lips, and the voice in which you speak makes Bucky stifle a soft groan in reply.

“Knew you would, baby. Such a perfect little thing, always onboard for whatever I want to try.” Bucky hums his approval and something inside of you swoons for the praise. He even takes a moment to use his fingers and tenderly brush the stray hairs from your face; touching you nothing but gently.

“Uh huh,” you confirm with a jerky nod and a doe-eyed look as Bucky smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He reaches for the container of whipped cream, popping the lid off. “Wait.” The thought creeps up on you.

Bucky stills briefly, eyes flickering to your face in a brief haze of concern. Pausing the act he’s been putting on for a moment to assure you’re not being genuine when you ask him to ‘wait’. You swallow around the tightness in your throat, attention solely on Bucky as you watch his studying face. Leave it to Bucky to be ready to fret over you at the drop of a dime.

“What if I win?” Bucky’s expression falls for a brief moment before twisting into disbelief and amusement. He laughs, entertained but relieved that’s where your concerns lie rather than somewhere more concerning.

“If you win, huh? Hmm,” Bucky takes a deliberate moment to hum and you shift with eager anticipation. Curious for whatever delicious thoughts may be brewing in that beautiful head of his. “Why don’t you choose — What would my babydoll want as a prize…?” the drawl of his voice nearly makes you squirm where you sit on the couch.

Your mind runs wild with ideas for half a moment before settling on something simple; “You have to go down on me, mouth only. No hands to help.” A swell of pride in your chest at the thought, you could already imagine Bucky looming over you and the warmth of his breath on your core before delving in without the aid of his hands.

Bucky seems to like the idea as well if the devilish way he watches you is anything to go off of.

“Sounds like a deal, and if you lose, you go down on me, sunshine.” You would hardly consider that a losing game.

“Sounds like a fair match - may the best player win,” you chuckle, the words a meager attempt to take back the reigns on your confidence and not become complete mush for this man by default. Bucky had this charming way of entrancing you. He did it to everyone that got to know him, half the time Bucky didn’t even need to think about it.

“I’ll get us started,” the sergeant takes lead - setting the lid of the whipped cream container on the coffee table and using a spoon he’d brought along with him to scoop up a dollop from the container. Messily, Bucky smears a dab across his bottom lip - all too aware of what he’s doing. Bucky may look innocent, but there are devil horns holding up that halo. You wonder if that’s a reflection of his friendship with Matt.

The grin Bucky wears is devilish when he looks at you; Eyes piercing and somehow even seductive with a swipe of whipped cream on his bottom lip. A soft giggle emits from your being before leaning to pluck up a strawberry. You use the piece of fruit to swipe along Bucky’s bottom lip, successfully scooping up traces of the whipped cream before taking a bite of the strawberry. The taste is ripe and sweet, no wonder they’re occasionally considered a form of natural aphrodisiac.

Bucky’s flesh hand finds your wrist tenderly after the first bite, causing you to arch a brow.

“Licking, sunshine.” Bucky corrects. “Pick at strawberries all you want, but the rules of the game required you to use your mouth. Otherwise, that’s not nearly as fun, is it?”

It’s moments like those that made you feel all light and fuzzy. When Bucky talks to you as though you were a helpless and useless thing; It makes your brain fog up with cotton with the way he speaks down to you.

“No, Bucky,” You exhale sweetly. “Good baby,” Bucky’s hand releases your wrist to lift and cup your cheek, giggling when you’re faced with the whipped cream on his lip again. Not as easy to take him so seriously. Bucky gives an amused huff at the response. “Now c’mon, before this melts and you have to lick that up, too.”

Popping the rest of your strawberry into your mouth, you finished chewing and swallowing before cupping Bucky’s jaw to steady him. Holding him in place when you lean forward into his space; being able to smell the traces of sandalwood and cinnamon on his skin made you shiver. It didn’t matter how many times you were like this with Bucky, your belly filled with butterflies every time in the best way. Tentatively you drag your tongue across his bottom lip, whipped cream sweet on your tongue.

There’s no chance to pull away when Bucky catches your lips in an immediate kiss following. Mouth slotting to yours in the opportunity that the man has, grinning against your lips like the cat that got the cream. His large palm lifted to come and cradle your cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing into your hair where it cups under your eat. Palm cooler than the average person due to the way his body ran cold, but your own warmth helped balance out the temperature difference from time to time. Your cheek felt like fire beneath this hand.

Bucky kisses you hungrily, a searing claim when he licks hot into your mouth and makes you whimper and shiver. Your fingers still hold his bearded cheeks as Bucky takes his time tasting you; Enjoying it far more than any whipped cream he could ever buy. Bucky parts only after he’s left you breathless, wiping a thumb at his bottom lip with a low chuckle. Your head is left to spin with your heart hammering in your ears.

“Been achin’ to kiss you like that all day,” Bucky confesses. Your lips tingle, mourning the loss of Bucky pressed against your like that. “You’ve had countless chances, Bucky - we’ve been here alone all day.” You defend while lacking a legitimate malice to your tone.

“It’s different,” you almost wave him off at the defense and make yourself busy with the whipped cream when Bucky elaborates. “I wanted to be soft with you today; I think we both deserve a little tenderness every once in a while. But sexy games give me a reason to kiss you like that.”

“Sometimes I struggle to believe that you’re the same stoic sergeant everyone quakes in front of.”

“I’m not; Not with you.” The words are raw, and it would make your heart turn to mush if you weren’t turned on by his kindness.

“You’re sexy when you’re sweet,” you coo, fingers brushing up his jaw to draw Bucky in for another quick kiss.

“And you’re sexy all the time, sunshine.” Bucky hums right back before meeting you partway for a small exchange of pecks. You both linger there for a moment, the kisses stolen not nearly as heady or heavy. Then you’re taking your turn. Parting lips and Bucky nearly chases your touch for more when you tut your tongue. A mock of his earlier tutting. “Aww,” you echo back to him, half condescending and half frisky. “I see it on your face, people are gonna think m’not taking care of my Buckybear.” though with your delivery, the words are far less menacing and end with you breaking the character to laugh, especially when Bucky is already crumbling into chuckles in front of you.

“‘Buckybear’?” Bucky parrots incredulously and entertained. “Trying out new nicknames,” you say with an innocent shrug, plucking up the spoon to get more cream on the utensil. “I think it’s cute.” “I like it,” Bucky agrees, shifting to get comfortable on the couch while his predatory gaze follows your hand. “It’s a nickname you gave me, just… Maybe let’s not let Sam hear this one.” “Does he still call you ‘Buckaboo’ sometimes?” You ask, momentarily distracted and appreciative that you and Bucky are able to break up seductive moments with cute ones. You’re convinced it’s proof you’re both truly in love to be able to be this casual and open with one another.

“Unfortunately. Torres heard Sam over the commlinks last week, both of them were dying of laughter.” Bucky deadpans, clearly not finding the situation as humorous as the boys did. You snicker with a shake of your head, assessing the spoon in your hand for a moment before setting it down in the container and abandoning it as a whole.

Instead, you pull your shirt up and over your head – stripping away the layer. The response it earns from Bucky fuels your confidence, the way he straightens up on the couch and wolf-whistles at each inch of skin you show off for him. Bucky always has a way of making you feel perfect; All your insecurities blanch when you were able to feel his comforting presence, always leaving you feeling loved and unequaled in your skin.

“Givin’ me a show, doll?” Bucky muses, a small tilt of his head while he studies you. “Why, enjoying the view?” You coo in turn, meeting Bucky with that same playful banter - this was a game after all, and games are meant to be fun. You discard the top haphazardly to the floor, no doubt to be gathered tomorrow morning.

“Oh absolutely. Got the prettiest baby in all of New York… I’m a very lucky man.” When Bucky speaks, his voice is thick and warms your face. Bucky is very much the flatterer.

“I know you like it when I say things like that,” doesn’t even hesitate to single you out on the thought. “When I remind you of how precious you are to me, sugar… Just how much I fucking adore you.” Bucky’s voice drips with lust and devotion. Utterly in love. It almost tempts you to drop the game before it gets too far in and have him now; Peel away the remaining layers separating you two and open your legs in an invitation for Bucky to fuck you so roughly into the couch that the legs break and the neighbors know Bucky’s name loud and clear.

God, you’re fucking whipped for this man.

Sometimes you’re still not prepared for the outpour of loving words; Still, you’re trying to remember that Bucky means the things he says and isn’t merely humoring you as exes have in the past. Bucky is nothing if not genuine.

“Keep sweet talking me, Sarge, and this game might end sooner than you want it to,” You warn with a coy smile before picking up the formerly abandoned spoon. “I’m bein’ honest,” Bucky defends, lifting his hands in a feigned and mischievous. “You know you love when I talk sweet to you, anyways, sugar.”

“You also know it makes me freeze up; I never know what to say things like that, Bucky.” a gentle reminder and your cheeks hurt from smiling - do you look stupid? Bucky would love you anyways, truth be told.

“Oh, but that’s the best part,” Bucky replies, leaning forward on the couch and closer into your bubble of space. Taking his time letting his eyes drink in the pretty sight you make for him without your top. “It turns you into putty, baby. You start floatin’ so easy, ‘s cute - it’s worth it gettin’ you cock-drunk in the end.”

You stutter - jaw clenching and you feel the tips of your ears burn. Bucky takes more sadistic amusement in the responses he pulls out of you. Plays you like a fiddle. It embarrasses you as much as it makes your thighs tighten and a wetness forms in your underwear. He works you up for fun. It’s maddening and exhilarating and perfect.

“Buckyyy,” you whine, pitiful and with a harmless scowl. Bucky’s laugh is rich and makes your face soften almost immediately. “Well, on with it, sunshine.” Bucky nods towards the spoon clutched between your fingers.

You take the moment to regain your composure. A deep breath - Attempting to shake out Bucky’s influence and his attempts to deduce you to a ditz so soon. Then, with the cold metal of the spoon, you smear a generous streak of whipped cream from your left clavicle to the top of your left breast.

When you lift your attention from your careful work, you find Bucky’s hungry eyes on you. Looking like a wolf preparing to strike his prey; Oh, to be littered with bites from Bucky’s mouth sounds like a dream.

“You’re bold tonight. I can already tell this is gonna be fun,” Bucky husks, voice low before moving into your space.

Right hand coming flush against your hip before smoothing up to frame your chest. He wedges himself between your legs, bringing your back flush with the arm of the couch as he looms over you; The semi that the soldier has been packing pressing prominently against your ass through his jeans. His vibranium hand brushes your hair out of your face, eyes studying you.

“You’re always so small under me...” Bucky hums, metal fingers brushing down your cheek as you lick some of the remaining whipped cream off the spoon; Putting on a show with the slow and deliberate lave it was the tip of his cock.

Bucky groans, his touch hardening where he holds your chest before lowering himself to let his hot mouth lick over your collarbone. Trailing down, his tongue glides across creamy sugar while littering open-mouth kisses to your flushed skin. His beard scratches against tender flesh and you keen underneath him - Bucky subtly presses tighter against your ass so his cock can make itself well acquainted and he growls low in his chest. Hot breath fanning over your flesh.

The soldier’s hot mouth threatens to go further, tempted to explore every inch of your delicate skin and leave you covered in hickeys. Bucky practices self-restraint, but not before licking up the swipe of whipped cream and suckling a deep hickey into your skin. The purpling skin is beautiful under his skillful tongue and you moan into the air of the living room.

May the best man win.

You’d both gone back and forth. After Bucky licked the mess from your chest and tasted the sugar on his tongue from a shared kiss, he had fun spraying whipped cream on his fingers.

Watching you have to take each digit between plump lips to suckle and lick the cream off. Beyond the sweetness of the cream, you could taste the roughness of his skin while he played with your tongue. Bucky even took the liberty of pressing his fingers to the flat of your tongue and holding your mouth open until you were drooling when there was no more cream left. When his fingers slip too far, you gag around the intrusion and Bucky grins.

He spits in your mouth to compensate for your time. You moan, thankful.

When it’s your turn again, you take the chance to shimmy your pants off next. Bucky licked his lips - watching you get undressed and not having to do a bit of the work but also being tempted with the inability to touch. Eager hands wanting nothing more to grip supple flesh and lay his claim while he takes you. With him. All good things come to those who wait.

You smeared whipped cream on your inner right thigh - dangerously close to your center and trailing towards your v-line. Bucky took his time settling between your legs. Kissed stamped to the inside of your calves, calloused hands smoothing out the outer of your thighs. Trailing upward, Bucky’s breath ever hot and the whipped cream threatens to drip.

Bucky catches the drop with his tongue before it can find the couch, licking up the inside of your thigh. His tongue makes you tingle and your brain stops working for a moment; shuddering under his touch and your toes curl. Bucky presses a kiss over the wet patch in your tight briefs and you hide your face. Your core quivers with want.

Bucky refuses to let you hide for long, working his way back up and gently prying your hands from your face. You share a heated kiss and sigh shakily against Bucky’s figure; Melting between him and the couch.

When it’s Bucky’s turn again, he takes a page out of your book and uses the opportunity to shed away layers. The jeans hugging his deliciously thick thighs are discarded, Bucky hiking up the plain black tee that left little to the imagination of the definition of his abdomen. It’s no mystery that Bucky was packed with muscle; Even in thick coats, you could still somehow always make out his distinct shape with rippling arms, a thick chest, and somehow a narrower waist. You’ve joked about him being a Disney princess once or twice.

The scoundrel smears the chilled spoon over his chiseled abs and for half a moment you’re in one of those steamy romance novels your mom would read and you’d giggle at.

You lap up the trail from over the concrete muscle down to Bucky’s groin - and he sighs out shaky and delighted. Hooded and heated eyes always watching you, you, you. Nothing else exists in the world to him other than your game. You feel a swell of pride knowing you have such a catch as Bucky; his thick fingers tangled in your hair and carding through as you innocently lick up the cream with a sinful tongue.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, sunshine.” the words are drawled out lazily and hushed from Bucky’s swollen lips; He’s been chewing them and biting like crazy.

The tent in his briefs doesn’t surprise you at all - you’d be insulted if he wasn’t aroused.

Still, you’ve taken every task he’s given you like a champ. Bucky is running out of safe skin to present, and you’re in for the long haul. Winning or losing makes no difference to you. By the end of the night, it’ll be Bucky’s hands that have touched you and brought you to your climax. No one else. You’ve already won.

But that doesn’t stop you from sitting back and shivering when the cold metal touches your bare nipples. Smearing a generous amount of cream to both bare and pebbling buds. Bucky is simply excited to get his mouth on you in a way that isn’t so safe anymore. His lips close around your nipple and leave you gasping - sucking and rolling the bud against his skilled and velvety tongue.

You’re wet; fingers holding Bucky’s head, merely along for the ride as he circles the areola with the tip of his tongue before pinching the delicate skin between his teeth and making you cry out. So sensitive. He kisses your ache better before subjecting the other nipple to the same torment; Bucky’s hot and wet mouth is heaven and your body speaks louder than your wanton moans or words ever will. You want him so unapologetically, and Bucky knows it. Prides himself on it, even.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re out of whipped cream and both of your teeth have rotted from your skull from the sugar; Something has to give otherwise the both of you could be at this all night - would that be so awful, though?

Bucky could wait you out easily. Run you out of choices until all that's left to cover with cream are the places he wants to get his tongue on the most. That's too easy; the back and forth between you two is what helps sparks fly.

Your fun is interrupted on Bucky's turn. He's trying to swipe whipped cream on his chest when he fumbles the spoon; the dollop slides right off the flimsy metal and falls to Bucky's bare shin, trailing down to his foot.

Both of your noses scrunch. Bucky's look of disgust is quickly replaced though by a mischievous glint, the soldier raising his leg up to balance his heel on the couch cushion.

"Better hop to it, honey." Bucky singsongs.

You playfully swat at his thick thigh, hand wanting to linger just to feel the muscle under your palm. How easy it would be to glide up and cup his cock.

"I'm not licking your foot, Bucky." You stifle the words only because you can't contain the giggles.

"Rules are rules - unless that means I win…?" Bucky perks up, and ah, no wonder why he got all delighted. He sees this as his golden ticket win.

No way he's serious. Your relationship and dynamic is very experimentational, but feet aren't on the table - sorry, Bucky. Licking one of his boots is a different story, but that's for another day where you have more time and the sweet words are replaced with filthy titles and the soldier joins you in the bedroom rather than your loving and chaste boyfriend.

“I’m not licking your foot.” You reiterate, “Pick somewhere else, for real?” “Ah ah ah, Sunshine. When we started playing we agreed.” Bucky protests and you are tempted to steal that spoon away from Bucky and swat another spoonful of whip cream at him. Instead, you pout; trying to wiggle your way. “Oh c’mon.” Bucky knows you won’t do it, the pain in the ass that he is (and you adore).

“Then I win,” Bucky declares matter-of-factly, and really, has defeat ever been such a pleasure? You shrug your shoulders to acknowledge your defeat, flashing the man across from you a bashful smile. At least you don't have whipped cream sticky on your foot - you're the real winner in that case.

“That means you, sunshine, gotta get that sweet mouth of yours on my cock.”

“Yes, Bucky,” you agree with an airy giggle. “I know what going down on someone means.”

When you go down on Bucky, he’s kind enough to give you a pillow to kneel on between his thighs. It helps recompense for the iron-grip in your hair as he guides your head up and down the steady length of his cock.

You’ve long started to adapt to the girth by now. The first time you’d attempted to go down on Bucky, the thickness of his cock had overwhelmed you. You could only take so much before nearly sputtering - and vomiting during sex isn’t sexy. It left you to have to make up for what your mouth couldn’t reach with skilled hands pumping the base of his dick and playing with his balls.

Now you can take Bucky without gagging, and it’s worth it to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head when you suck his cock. You’re his pretty cock-sleeve and Bucky has no problem letting you know it:

“Yeah, that’s it… Such a slutty fuckin’ mouth, droolin’ all over me, baby.” His fingers fist your hair at the root, every pull a delicious sting as he guides your head up and down his cock. The corners of your lips stretching around the intrusion, eyes watering and everytime you moan at the way he fucks your mouth, it sends a vibration through Bucky’s cock that just has him reeling for more. “Oh, oh God… I’ve got the prettiest fuckin’ cocksucker - a work of art."

The words are filthy yet flattering; your chest fluttering while your hands brace on Bucky’s thighs. You keep your jaw slack, making the slide as easy for him as possible as the tip of his cock abuses the back of your throat. There's a certain fulfilment that comes with being used so filthily; Solely existing for Bucky's pleasure in that moment as he shifts from guiding you to thrusting.

Your nose buries in the neatly trimmed pubic hair, flush with his pubic bone every time he cants his hips up into your willing mouth. This is how all blowjobs tend to go. With you taking the lead before Bucky can't handle it anymore and pummels your poor mouth.

It leaves a delicious ache.

Drool slips down your chin, doe-eyes fixed on Bucky despite the bleary picture he makes with tears dripping down your cheeks. Your sounds are muffled yet still whorish; your skin prickled with heat and the knot in your stomach slowly building. You grind your hips into the air looking for something to hump. You whine when you find nothing; more drool pooling past your red mouth as Bucky tilts his head back into the cushions with a low moan.

"That's it, take it, take all of my cock, baby. Like you were fuckin' made for it, mm, my precious little fuckhole. God, I love you, love my messy whore."

Your head is swimming, all you can focus on is the feel of the cock thrusting in and out of your slack mouth while Bucky uses your hole to his delight. Even when your head feels light from the lack of air, you float happily and trust Bucky. Bucky always takes care of you.

He tugs your head up by your hair, pulling you off his cock, and only then are you able to swallow lungfuls of air; gasping with spit-slick lips and a gossamer connects you to the tip of Bucky’s flushed cock.

“Cock-drunk. Like I said.” Bucky playfully chides and you whimper pitifully in response. Bucky laughs condescendingly at how pathetic you are and your chest blossoms. His hand cups your face tenderly, vibranium fingers wrapped around his dick while he smears his cockhead against your cheek. You turn your head instinctively towards the cock, mouthing wet kisses up the length and Bucky barks out a laugh at how hungry you are.

“Fuck, when did you get so desperate? You’d think I never touch you.” He traces your lips with the flushed tip; your tongue darts out to lap up the pre-come.

“As if I don’t have you bent over the nearest surface every other day; Pumping you full of my seed and leaving you fuckdumb.” Bucky slaps the length against your cheek wetly. You tongue down his shaft, as much as Bucky’s clutch in your hair will allow, and mouth at his balls hungrily. Bucky groans low and primal in his throat.

“Dirty, dirty…” His hand comes to hold your jaw, tongue sliding past your loose and parting lips. Playing with your tongue, Bucky shakes your head like a dog and you mewl. Fingers curling into the flaps of his jeans from where you’d pulled them open. “Shh, you’re alright, honey. M’just playin’ is all, yeah, you’re so cute like this. So airheaded n’ dumb.”

You suckle on Bucky’s thumb, your reply coming in a pleased purr to have your mouth full again. It’s not his dick, but you’re more than happy to bob your head. Bucky bites his lips and grins wickedly.

“I love how stupid you get for me, baby. It’s absolutely adorable, knowin’ you’d let me do anythin’ I wanted to you,” Bucky coos all too lovingly for it to be merely lust and heat.

He slips his thumb from your lips and you chase the digit with a whimper; Mourning the loss. Bucky just grips your hair again and pulls you back to his balls.

“C’mon, sunshine, suck on my balls.” The weight in your mouth nearly has you salivating, sucking on Bucky’s balls and right where you’re meant to be; Worshipping this man.

His cock is heavy against your face as Bucky jerks off to the gorgeous and whorish sight you make for him. The bruent groans, stroking his cock as Bucky watches you intently mouth as his heavy sac; Saliva dripping all over his skin and making a mess. His cock jerks infront of you, pulsing and veins bulging.

“That’s it, good pet… So fuckin’ good, yeah, you’re so perfect — Fuck, what am I gonna do with you..?” Bucky guides your mouth back to his cock. Up the length and taking the head between your lips before swallowing him down entirely. Back to the steady bob as you moan around the intrusion and Bucky groans roughly into the thick and heavy air.

“I wanna fuck your face, sunshine,” Bucky rasps out, and you stutter your ministrations for half a moment to peer up at him in the helpless daze that consumes you. “Yeah, you like that idea? Don’ gotta do nothin’, honey, just let me use that pretty fuckhole of yours.” The words purred out so sweetly, you profusely nod. Eager to be of use. Pulling off his cock, you utter the word: “O-Okay…” “Good fuckin’ pet…” Bucky’s fingers thread delicately through your hair until he’s tightening the grip. Sinking you down onto his length yet again and forcing you to take every inch he gives you. It doens’t stop there. Instead the soldier braces his feet on the carpet alongside where you’re sat between his open thighs. He pistons his hips up - hitting your gag reflex and causing you to sputter around his cock.

There is no mercy. Bucky fucks up into your face, setting a progressive pace to allow you to slowly adjust but not for long. It’s only a few moments later that he’s fucking up into you like his own personal hole. Piercing steely eyes burning through you as he watches you choke and sputter on his impressive girth. It’s a mess of spit and tears that stream down your cheeks from the brutality of the face-fucking.

Heavy balls slap against your jaw and Bucky moans. You tingle between your legs, wet from being able to be a tool for Bucky. An object of pleasure; Something about it has always turned you on in being able to please your partner. There’s no better pleasure than Bucky using you like the fuckhole you’re made to be, and he lets you know that.

“God, baby, you were made for this. Should just keep you for this one day; Make you my pretty little fuckdoll and the only thing you gotta worry about is fuckin’ yourself stupid on my cock. You make such a pretty sight, fuck, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you…” The litany is breathless as Bucky continues to thrust his dick in and out of your welcoming mouth.

You choke and sputter; Face hot and eyes burning with tears that drip off your chin in fat droplets. Cries die in your throat, high off the euphoria of the moment and burning on the adrenaline of being used as a fleshlight. Your lips ache; His pelvis smacks into you every time he ruts his hips up. Bucky slides down your throat easily. He’s right. You’re made for it.

You don’t know how long it goes on for. Instead you ogle in heaven, seeing and feeling nothing but Bucky. Even through the wet and slick squelches of your mouth being used, you couldn’t be happier. You roll your hips to find nothing - you suppose that’s the punishment of losing the game. Only one of you get off.

He fucks your face until you’re dizzy and can’t breathe. When you fear you might sputter for air is when Bucky unravels; Your throat flexing around his cock and fingers feeling every now and again in your throat for the tell-tale bulge.

It’s when Bucky’s hips stutter and the dirty talk bleeds more into primal noises rather than words. Grunts through his teeth, low growls while he abuses your throat up until the moment Bucky’s hips jerk harshly. The movements stutter, and Bucky punches out a harsh gasp. Then you feel it.

The hot pump of his come down your throat; Filling you up.

You threaten to choke and Bucky hushes you, rubbing sympathetically over your windpipe. “Shh shh, that’s it, swallow every last drop, baby. Take it all…” He rolls his hips impossibly deeper into your sore jaw. You feel drunk and you weren’t even the one that got to ride out their orgasm. With a few last grunts and rolls of his hips, Bucky withdraws from your sensitive mouth. Half-soft cock falling and you greedily swallow for air.

Bucky pets you through it all - whispering out your praise. How good you did for him. How much he loves you.

You take a moment to recover, head pillowed on Bucky’s inner thigh as he pets your hair lovingly. You drool onto the denim of his jeans, and if Bucky minds, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he watches you with loving eyes and a soft hum; As if this wasn’t the same man who just deduced you to his filthy fuckhole. If you didn't know any better, sometimes you'd think the man who fucks you and the man who bought you a book you'd been dying trying to find for Valentine's day were two separate people.

Bucky does it because he knows you love it. You could tap out any time with the special little word you both selected months ago when your sex life began to spicen up past vanilla rocking. But you don’t. No, you take it all and then some because it feels good and sometimes you’re convinced it’s what you were made to do.

You take your time recouping. Bucky rubs through your hair lovingly and affectionately, soft hums to add noise to the space. You smile, delighted, as if you’re the one who’s won and come. Calloused fingers trace the shape of your smile and you nearly preen. Slotting open your droopy eyes, you find Bufcky still there. Still sweet.

“You did so good, honey. M’so proud of you.” He praises, knowing now that he has your attention. Your grin splits and give him a toothy smile. “My sweet sunshine,” Bucky’s voice is soft and inviting, a lopsided grin on his chiseled features. You feel like the only thing in the world for a moment.

Although you want to talk, words don’t come easily and instead, you drag Bucky down into a languid kiss. Bucky groans at the taste of himself on you, but other than that, he’s chaste and gentle. Knowing when to play rough and when not to. It’s heaven when his lips move against yours so tenderly. Your heart still flutters like a teenager in love.

The both of you remain that way for a few minutes. Slow kissing even if you imagine Bucky’s back burns from the lean and your neck is starting to ache from how you crane it. Still, there’s nowhere you’d rather be than with Bucky.

“How about we head on to our room, sunshine, and I’ll take care of the rest?” Bucky purrs against your throat when he trails kisses down. The brush of his beard tickles and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin makes you happy to be alive.

“Actually,” you say after a beat, swallowing hard and clearing your throat. You pull yourself together as much as you can before leaning back and away from Bucky.

He eyes you with a mild look of concern as you prop back against the coffee table, reaching for the untouched can that Bucky had brought in with his game proposal. You pop the red cap off and it scatters to the floor below, lost. Then, pulling yourself up to sit on the edge of the coffee table, you shake the can. You lift your hips, shimmying out of the underwear you’d been left in - both of you are half naked at this point and you’ve seen one another countless times, you have nothing to hide.

The pair pools around your ankles and you use your foot to toss them, discarded like everything else that’s met the floor this evening - save for you. Bare legs spread, an open invitation and show. Bucky’s eyes light up, and you adore how he seems to treat everytime like the first time again, too.

“I was thinking about a round two,” you purr with newfound confidence and second wind; Spraying a strip of whipped cream down from your navel and disappearing between your legs. “What do you say, Barnes?”

“Oh, you’re on.”

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