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shortnspidey · 1 month ago

Text

JUNO

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Stark!reader || WC: 6.3K

SUMMARY: Everyone’s drawn to you, it’s part of what makes you so special, and one of the first things Bucky fell in love with. He admires the way you light up every room, the way people naturally gravitate toward you. But it also means he's constantly sharing you with the world. So one weekend, he decides to take you away from it all, just you, him, and the time he's been craving.

WARNINGS: INCLUDES SMUT (18+) Literally all fluff, clingy Bucky, platonic everyone x reader, set after Thunderbolts* but there are NO spoilers, lots of sexual tension & kissing, unprotected p in v, body worship, oral (female receiving), breeding/praise kink, possessive!Bucky

A/N: Based on my Collateral Hearts series but can be read as a standalone! This is my first time ever writing smut so please proceed with caution! Miss Sabrina has corrupted me with her sensual songs! Who else is excited for Man’s Best Friend?! 🙋🏻‍♀️

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Bucky loved that you were well-liked, adored, even, especially by his new teammates. People naturally gravitated toward you. You had a natural charisma that allowed everyone to feel comfortable around you in a short period of time. Hell it was on of the many reasons as to why Bucky fell in love with you. But right now? He all but hated it.

Ever since moving into the Watchtower, it felt like he barely saw you anymore. Mornings used to start with you curled up beside him, the soft rhythm of your breathing syncing with his, your fingers finding his even in sleep. Sunlight would filter in through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across your tangled limbs and the bare stretch of your shoulder where the blanket had slipped.

Now, half the time, he woke up alone, your side of the bed already cold. The bed always felt too big without you in it. Sometimes it was Yelena who stole you away before dawn, coaxing you into early-morning workouts with the promise of post-training pancakes. Other times, it was Ava, needing a 'worthy' sparring partner. You took the hits, gave them back twice as hard, and came home with bruises you waved off.

Then there were the weekends you spent away, Pepper and Morgan. No matter how much he wanted to go, it always seemed like last minute missions dragged him away. You’d always call him, voice chirping through the phone promising to be back soon. But “soon” never felt soon enough. Sometimes Kate or Peter whisked you off into the city, for coffee, errands, or just something spontaneous and chaotic.

You always said yes, always too sweet to turn them down, even when he could see the exhaustion in your shoulders. Even when he wished you’d stay. Then there was Alexei, roping you into helping with one of his latest “experimental” kitchen masterpieces. You played along, though Bucky was pretty sure your true motivation was making sure the kitchen didn’t spontaneously combust. He’d watch you from the hallway, laughing through the chaos as you tried to wrestle a spatula from Alexei’s hand.

Bob was quieter, more subtle, inviting you out to bookstores or record shops with that shy smile of his, slipping you away for hours without anyone noticing. Bucky noticed. He always noticed. Even Alpine, your spoiled, smug little cat, got more time with you than he did. She curled into your lap like she owned you, purring contentedly as you worked or read, giving him that self-satisfied feline stare that somehow made him feel like the third wheel in his own relationship.

He didn’t blame them. Not really.

He knew what it was like to want to be near you. You were the kind of person people clung to without realizing they needed to. He understood that better than anyone. But still... call him spoiled, call him selfish, but he had grown used to having you all to himself. The soft silences. The late-night whispers. The quiet reassurances no one else got to hear. Which is why he had a plan to keep you all to himself. Bucky had been awake long before the first hint of dawn began to warm the skyline outside the Watchtower’s windows.

For once, he wasn’t watching the clock tick down to your departure, he was preparing to stop it altogether. About an hour before your alarm was set to buzz, he reached across the nightstand in the dark, silencing it with a flick of his thumb. Then, with a quiet exhale, he shifted toward you, strong arms sliding around your waist and pulling you back against the solid heat of his chest. Your skin was warm and soft beneath the covers, your breathing still deep and even.

For a few precious seconds, he simply held you, burying his face in the curve of your neck, breathing you in. The faint scent of your shampoo clung to your hair, sweet and familiar, something he swore he could never get enough of. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, then another to the space just below your ear, scruff brushing against your skin as he did. You stirred, just barely. Your body tensed for a split second, instinctively aware it was time to start your day.

Your internal clock, honed by routine, nudged at you to slip out of bed and head down to the gym to meet Yelena and Ava. But of course, your super-soldier fiancé had other plans. Plans that involved making it incredibly difficult for you to leave. Before you could so much as stretch, Bucky tightened his grip, strong arms flexing around your waist to pull you back flush against him. The warmth of his bare chest pressed to your spine, the beat of his heart slow and steady against your back.

His nose nudged into the crook of your neck, scruff tickling the sensitive skin there as he mouthed lazy kisses along your pulse point, soft, lingering, possessive. A soft sigh escaped your lips, your head instinctively tilting to the side, offering him more skin, more of you. His metal hand found yours under the blankets, cool fingers intertwining with your warmer ones. You didn’t resist. You never did when he touched you like this, slow, intentional, like every movement was a vow.

His legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets, thigh sliding between yours in a way that made it near impossible to move. Not that you wanted to, not when his body heat seeped into every inch of you, not when he was anchoring you so completely to this moment, to him. “You’re not going anywhere,” He murmured into your skin, voice rough with sleep, lips brushing against the spot that always made you shiver. “Not today, doll.” A small, sleepy smile curved your lips as your fingers tightened around his.

You could feel the way his breath hitched just slightly when your hips shifted back, nestling closer. Maybe Yelena and Ava could manage without you this morning. Just this once. You lips curled with amusement and affection, loving just how clingy Bucky was in the mornings, how much he needed to wrap himself around you like a super-soldier sized blanket, as if keeping your body close could somehow shut out the rest of the world. Oh, how far the two of you had come. “Big, bad, brooding super soldier…”

Your voice was soft, still heavy with sleep, but laced with teasing warmth as you turned in his arms to face him. Your legs shifted against his under the covers, tangling tighter. Your arms slid up around his neck, fingers brushing over the edge of his jaw as you pulled him in until your noses nearly touched. The heat of his breath mingled with yours, slow and heavy, like neither of you was in any hurry. "You’ve grown soft, Barnes.” You whispered, voice dripping with playful smugness.

Bucky’s eyes flickered down to your lips, his gaze hooded and hungry. “Mmm,” He rumbled, head tipping slightly into your touch as your fingers raked through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. He let out a low groan, that deep, gravelly kind that always made your skin prickle, especially when you scratched at his scalp just the way he liked, nails grazing along his roots with just enough pressure to make him shiver. You arched a brow, smirking. Point proven.

“Can’t help it, doll,” He murmured, voice dipping even lower, his mouth already dangerously close to your jaw. “You’ve got me all spoiled.” Your laugh came out as a soft, breathy exhale, a little too breathless to be innocent. And before you could fire back with something cheeky, Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to the curve of your neck, slow, open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers cascading down your spine. You tilted your head instinctively, giving him room, your grip around his neck tightening slightly.

He took full advantage, grazing his teeth against your pulse point before sinking them in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Bucky,” You whispered, half warning, half plea. He chuckled against your skin, low and satisfied, before soothing the bite with a slow, deliberate sweep of his tongue. The heat between your bodies thickened, the space beneath the covers was suddenly too warm. You shifted again, hips brushing against his, the tiniest movement, but enough to feel the way his breath caught.

“As much as I love where this is going…” You murmured between soft, uneven breaths, your voice catching slightly as Bucky’s teeth gently tugged at your earlobe, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. His tongue flicked over the spot to soothe it, and you let out a soft moan, fingers curling instinctively into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve gotta go downstairs before Yelena breaks down the door.” You whispered, trying to sound authoritative.

Yet, the conviction in your voice faltered when he pressed himself closer, all muscle and heat, pinning you beneath the weight of his affection. Bucky shook his head slowly, deliberately, his stubble scraping against the sensitive skin of your neck as he exhaled a warm, lazy breath. “Not today,” His voice didn’t leave room for argument. “You’re mine for the weekend.” You tilted your head, brows raising in amused disbelief, though your body betrayed you, arching subtly, craving more contact, more of him.

“Oh?” You teased, breathless, your fingers dancing down his spine under the sheets, feeling the way his muscles flexed in response to your touch. “And what exactly does that mean, Sergeant?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes smoldering with a look that made your stomach flip. His gaze flicked down to your lips, then dragged slowly back up to meet your eyes with a lazy, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I already packed our bags,” He brushed his nose against yours, voice dipped in that slow, rough drawl that always turned your knees to jelly.

“You and me. Hotel suite. Privacy. Room service. A giant bed with no interruptions. And a whole lot more of this.” His hand slid from your waist to your thigh, fingers gripping and pulling until your leg was hitched over his hip. The shift brought your bodies impossibly close, so that you could feel a very prominent bulge, between you both. His metal hand cradled the back of your neck, the coolness contrasting deliciously with the heat building between you. Then he kissed you, not soft, not teasing.

His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that had simmered beneath the surface all week. Lips parted, breath mingling, and then his tongue slid against yours in a slow, deliberate sweep that made your toes curl under the sheets. He tasted like sleep and warmth, like something familiar and utterly addictive. You responded just as eagerly, pulling him closer with a quiet, breathless whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair again, nails dragging against his scalp to coax out another low groan from deep in his chest.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, catching it just enough to make you gasp, and then he soothed the sting with a lazy flick of his tongue, sensual, unhurried, like he was savoring every inch of you. The kiss deepened, grew slower and heavier, full of unspoken promises and heat that made your thighs clench around him. By the time he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his chest rising and falling just a bit faster, matching your own ragged breath.

His forehead rested against yours, and when he looked at you, there was nothing but lust and devotion burning in those storm-blue eyes. “Privacy, huh?” You whispered, grinning against his lips. “That sounds dangerously tempting.” He grinned back, eyes flickering with a flash of lust and mischief. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you this weekend. Not even with Alpine.” You let out a laugh, breathless and light, your fingers brushing over the stubble along his jaw. “She’s going to be deeply offended.”

“She’ll live,” He shrugged, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then down your neck with renewed purpose. “But me? I might not. I need you, doll. All of you.” And from the way his hands roamed, slow and possessive, from the way his mouth claimed your skin like he was memorizing it all over again, you believed him. You lay together in a haze of half-lidded glances and lingering fingertips, your thigh draped over his hip, his hand splayed low on your back, as if letting go of you might break the spell.

The silence was soft, intimate. A kind of quiet only earned by two people who knew each other completely. Every now and then, his mouth would brush your shoulder, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, not with urgency, but reverence. Like he was reminding himself that you were really here. That he didn’t have to share you yet. Eventually, as much as neither of you wanted to move, the idea of privacy, true privacy, pulled you both from the comfort of the sheets.

You slipped out of bed first, bare legs brushing cool hardwood as you padded to the dresser, and Bucky’s gaze followed you like a shadow. His Henley, the one you’d stolen off his side of the floor, hung loosely over your frame as you gathered what you needed, catching his smirk in the mirror when your shoulder peeked out from the stretched collar. He moved slower, watching you beneath hooded lids as he tugged on a dark t-shirt, one that clung just right to the lines of his chest.

His fingers brushed yours more than necessary while you finished packing, every accidental touch lingering too long, every stolen glance speaking volumes neither of you said out loud. Before leaving, Bucky moved to the nightstand and, with deliberate ease, turned both of your phones off. Then he tossed them into the drawer and shut it with a soft click, a clear, quiet declaration. This weekend wasn’t for notifications. For distractions. For anyone else.

With that, the two of you slipped down the hallway like a secret, hands brushing, steps slow and careful. The tower was quiet for once, the buzz of conversation strangely absent. You passed the main floor where the sunlight pooled in warm patches across the tile, and just as you reached the elevator, a quiet rustle of pages caught your attention. Bob sat in one of the oversized armchairs by the couch, a book in one hand, the other cradling a half-empty mug, brows raising as he looked up.

He didn't say anything, just gave the two of you a knowing look over the rim of his cup and turned the page, eyes dropping back to his book. Bucky didn’t even glance over. He just reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you gently into the elevator. The doors slid closed with a quiet chime. The car ride was calm, quiet. You rested your head on Bucky’s shoulder, fingers still twined as they rested on your thigh, the city slowly unfolding outside the tinted windows. The farther away you got from the Watchtower, the more your shoulders dropped.

Maybe you really did need this.

The hotel was tucked away in the quieter part of Manhattan, tall, sleek, with understated elegance. Marble floors, tall windows with sheer curtains that caught the light, staff that didn’t ask questions when Bucky checked in under an alias and insisted on the penthouse. He kept you close at his side, his hand firm at your waist as you walked through the lobby, brushing against you just enough to keep your body warm with anticipation. The elevator to the top floor was silent, save for the soft chime as you rose higher.

You could feel his eyes on you the entire way up, as if he was counting down the seconds. The suite itself was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the room, bathing everything in soft, ambient light of the heart-shaped candles. The bed was enormous, dressed in layers of cloud-like linens and plush pillows. A fireplace flickered in the corner, and beyond a set of French doors, was a balcony, offering the hush of the city far below. Bucky didn’t say a word as he dropped the bags to the floor.

He simply walked past you to the windows, drawing the curtains slowly, blocking out the world in measured movements. The light dimmed, shadows deepened. And you could feel it again, that weight between you. The heavy, unresolved tension that had followed you all morning. The quiet wasn’t awkward. It was thick, charged, humming with the ache of everything you hadn’t done yet. You stood there, still, your pulse tapping just under your skin, watching the way Bucky’s broad shoulders moved as he stepped back toward you.

His eyes locked onto yours like you were the only thing in the room that mattered. He stopped just close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, his hands hovering, not quite touching, as if waiting for permission. You gave it, without a word. He stood there, quiet and still, but his eyes said everything, dark, slow-burning, full of hunger. His hands lifted, finally closing that small space between you, one brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear while the other rested at your waist, thumb pressing gently into the dip of your hipbone.

He kissed you like the world had stopped. Like there was nothing else, no time, no place, just the two of you, and this quiet room. It started slow. His lips moved against yours with aching patience, savoring you. You found yourself clutching his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. You could feel the restraint in the way he held you, the quiet tension in his shoulders, in his hands, like he was trying not to overwhelm you, not to take too much too fast. But you didn’t want restraint, not today.

You wanted all of him.

As if reading your mind, he lifted you into his arms without breaking the kiss, carrying you to the bed like you were something priceless. He laid you down gently, settling in between your thighs like you were sacred. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you, thumb stroking over your cheek as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips. You could feel the restraint in the way he held you, the quiet tension in his shoulders, in his hands, like he was trying not to overwhelm you, not to take too much too fast.

"Bucky," You gasped against his mouth, your voice thick with need. “Stop being so damn careful. I need you, all of you.” You nipped at his lower lip, a sharp spark of impatience. A low growl vibrated in his chest, a sound both feral and tender. Your plea finally snapped the last fragile thread of his restraint. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze blazing with sudden intensity. The tenderness didn't vanish; it transformed, becoming possessive, hungry.

His hands slid down your sides, palms rasping deliciously against the thin fabric of his your shirt before finding the hem and pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion. Then, with a quiet exhale, he leaned back on his heels just enough to reach for the collar of his own shirt. You sat there, breath caught, watching with parted lips as his fingers gripped the hem. And then he lifted. It was deliberate, the kind of slow that made your mouth go dry. The fabric peeled upward, revealing inch by delicious inch of golden skin and muscle.

Every flex and ripple beneath smooth scars catching in the soft light. His abs tensed with the motion, the deep ridges carved with perfect symmetry. His metal arm gleamed with subtle reflections, a stark, beautiful contrast to the warmth of the rest of him. When the shirt finally cleared his head, he tossed it aside without looking, his eyes never leaving yours. You stared. Blatantly. Breathless. You’d seen him shirtless hundreds of times. After training, after missions, in bed beside you in the quiet haze of morning light. But somehow, this felt different.

Intimate. Like every inch of him was bared just for you, not just in body, but in trust. He didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. He just stood there, letting you look, chest rising and falling as if he felt your gaze like a touch. And you were in awe. Of the sheer strength written into every line of his body. Of the scars he didn’t hide. Of the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Your fingers twitched, aching to touch him.

He took a step forward, quiet and slow, and as he knelt onto the bed in front of you again. Your hands rose on instinct, palms flattening against his chest. The heat of his skin radiated beneath your touch, his heart thudding strong beneath your fingertips. Cool air kissed your skin, but it was instantly replaced by the searing heat of his stare as he drank in the sight of your bared torso, clad in a blue lace bra. His flesh hand spanned your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

While his vibranium fingers traced the delicate line of your collarbone with astonishing sensitivity. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He breathed out dipping his head, not to your mouth this time, but instead to the pulse fluttering wildly at the base of your throat. His lips pressed there, hot, wet, and open-mouthed, then traced a slow, searing path downward. He worshipped the slope of your shoulder, the valley between your breasts with lingering kisses that made you writhe in pure pleasure.

He took one of your peaked nipple into his mouth through the lace of your bra, sucking gently at first, then harder. The wet heat and the scrape of his teeth sending jolts of pure lightning straight to your core. You cried out, fingers tangling in his dark hair, holding him there as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, peeling the bra aside with infinite care to expose flushed skin to his hungry mouth and tongue. "Every freckle," He murmured, his voice a low rasp that vibrated in your bones.

"Every curve, I have memorized." His lips followed his hands, kissing a slow, burning trail down your sternum, his tongue swirling around your navel before dipping lower still. He made quick work of your jeans and underwear, stripping them down your legs with efficient grace. “Soaked for me already, and I’ve barely even touched you,” He rasped against your damp skin, his breath ghosting over your sensitized nipple. “Just like I knew you would be.” And then he was kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, broad shoulders parting your thighs with gentle insistence.

He paused for a long moment, just looking at you spread bare before him in the dim light. His gaze was dark, possessive, tracing every curve and fold with agonizing slowness. “Mine.” He stated softly, the word a vow that resonated deep in your bones. Then he lowered his head. The first touch of his tongue was a revelation. Not tentative, not teasing, but a broad, flat stroke from the very base of your core up to your clit, gathering your slickness with a low groan of appreciation that vibrated through your entire body.

You arched off the bed with a sharp cry. Bucky Barnes didn’t just go down on you; he worshipped you. His mouth was relentless. He lapped at your entrance, savoring your taste, his tongue delving inside in shallow thrusts before swirling back up to circle your clit with exquisite pressure. His vibranium thumb joined in, rubbing firm, knowing circles just beside that aching nub while his tongue focused its attentions lower, fucking into you with slow, deep strokes that made you see stars.

He alternated, broad licks that covered your entire core, focused suction on your clit that had your hips bucking wildly, deep penetrations with his tongue that mimicked the thrusts you desperately craved from another part of him. His metal hand slid beneath you, gripping your ass, lifting you slightly, angling you perfectly for his mouth. His flesh hand joined the mix, two fingers sliding deep inside you with effortless ease.

They curled upwards in that devastatingly perfect come hither motion that hit just the spot. He hummed against you, the vibration traveling straight to your core, intensifying the coil tightening unbearably low in your belly. "Taste so fuckin' sweet," He growled, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Gonna make you come all over my face. Gonna drink every drop you give me." His eyes, blown with lust, flicked up to yours, holding your gaze as he intensified the pressure, his tongue pressing hard, rapid circles directly on your clit while his fingers pumped deep and fast.

“B-Bucky, I-I’m close.” You moaned out, hands fisting the sheets, knuckles white. “Come for me.” As if his words were a direct order, the orgasm crashed over you like a slow-building wave finally breaking shore, utterly consuming. Your back arched, a choked cry tearing from your throat as your inner walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers. Bucky moaned against you, lapping eagerly, drinking down your release, his tongue gentling to soft, soothing strokes as the tremors subsided, prolonging the aftershocks until you were breathless beneath him.

Before you could even catch your breath, Bucky surged up over you, his eyes wild with need, lips glistening with your arousal. He shoved his own jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock, thick, flushed red, veins standing proud, and already weeping at the tip. The sight alone sent a fresh surge of desperate heat through your spent body. He rose above you, his chest heaving, his cock thick and flushed, veins standing proud, glistening with pre-come.

The candlelight caught the silver of his dog tags where they lay against your sweat-slicked chest, shifting slightly with each breath. His gaze fixed on them, then slid to the diamond ring on your finger. A possessive, primal satisfaction settled over his features. His metal hand reached out, not to touch you, but to gently lift the chain of his dog tags, letting the cool metal slide through his fingers before letting them fall back against your skin. "Right where they belong," His thumb then brushed over your ring finger, tracing the band.

"This too." He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, claiming kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "My future wife." He positioned himself at your entrance, the broad head nudging against slick, swollen flesh. “Need to be inside you,” He growled, his voice ragged. “Need it like air. It's been far too long and I’ve waited long enough, baby.” There was no question of protection; the raw need in his eyes, the possessive set of his jaw spoke of something deeper, primal.

He pushed forward with excruciating slowness, his eyes never leaving yours, watching every flicker of sensation across your face. You felt every ridge, every inch of his impressive girth stretching you, filling you impossibly full. He paused when fully sheathed, buried to the hilt, his hips flush against yours. The feeling was profound, a deep, aching fullness, a sense of being utterly claimed. He paused there for a heartbeat, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. “So damn perfect,” He choked out. “Like you were fuckin’ made for me.”

He began to move then, withdrawing slowly, almost completely, before sliding back in with that same deep, deliberate glide. His thrusts were long and slow, a powerful, rolling motion of his hips that ground his pelvis against your sensitive clit with every deep penetration. His metal hand braced beside your head, his flesh hand slid down to grip your hip, fingers digging in possessively, pulling you onto him with each thrust, ensuring he reached impossibly deep.

He kept his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face. "Look at you," He groaned, his gaze raking over your face, down your body to where you were joined. "Taking me so deep, so fuckin' perfect." His rhythm remained measured, but each thrust carried undeniable power, a claim. He shifted slightly, angling his hips, and the next deep glide brushed directly against that sweet spot inside, drawing a sharp cry from you. “B-Bucky!” You gasped, reaching to place your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh, needing something to ground you.

"There?" He rasped, a feral grin touching his lips. He repeated the angle, hitting that spot with unerring accuracy on every deep stroke now. Each powerful stroke sent a shockwave through your core, forcing a ragged gasp from your lips. "Yes! Bucky, yes! Right there!" You cried out, the words dissolving into a high, desperate whine as the sensation intensified, stealing your breath. "Gonna make you come again, right on my cock, gonna feel you milkin' me."

The pressure built again, coiling tighter, fueled by the relentless friction against your clit, the deep stimulation inside, and the raw possessiveness in his voice and gaze. His thrusts grew fractionally harder, deeper, the bedframe groaning softly in protest His big hand slid from the curve of your hip, fingers digging possessively into the soft flesh of your ass, lifting you higher. He angled you perfectly, driving himself impossibly deeper, stretching you wider.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his sweat-slicked hips, heels digging into the small of his back, anchoring yourself as your head thrashed back against the pillows, a sob tearing from your throat. "Please, Bucky! Need it!" His breath scorched the shell of your ear, his growl a possessive rumble deep in his chest. "Wanna fill you up," He promised, punctuating each word with a brutal shove of his hips that made you see stars. "Wanna pump you full, mark you deep. Make everyone know you’re mine. Only mine."

You felt the primal truth of it in the desperate clench of your own muscles, in the slick gush of arousal coating his cock with every withdrawal. He grunted, a harsh sound of pure lust, his rhythm becoming a frantic piston, slamming into that glorious spot relentlessly. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with your choked cries and his guttural groans. You could feel the tell-tale tightening in your belly, the flutter becoming a frantic pulse triggered by his words, and the exquisite torture of his cock stretching and stroking your inner walls.

"G-Gonna c-come ag-gain." You sobbed, your words barely intelligible. “Oh God, fuck! I'm coming!" The coil snapped. Pleasure detonated, white-hot and shattering, radiating out from your core in violent waves. Your body seized around him, milking him frantically. Feeling your release, his thrusts became frantic, powerful pistons driving deep. He buried himself to the root with a final, guttural groan, his body locking tight as he pulsed hotly inside you. You felt the distinct, thick spurts of his release, flooding your walls, impossibly hot.

He held himself there, buried impossibly deep, grinding his hips against yours as the last pulses left him, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged gasps against your lips. "Mine." He whispered, a satisfied rumble vibrating through his chest and into yours. His metal hand drifted up, his fingers gently tracing the chain of his dog tags resting on your sweat-slicked skin, right over your pounding heart. His thumb found your wedding ring again, rubbing it slowly. "All mine. Filled with me. Marked by me."

He stayed buried inside you, his weight a comforting, possessive anchor, his release a warm, claiming presence deep within, sealing the promise whispered against your skin. A low hum vibrated deep in his chest as he pressed a feather-light kiss to your temple. "Easy," He murmured, the rasp in his voice gentled but still undeniably him. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, wiping away the dampness there, sweat or tears, it didn't matter.

"Just breathe with me, alright? Deep and slow." He demonstrated, drawing in a long, shuddering breath, encouraging you to follow. The overwhelming intensity of release still shimmered through your limbs, leaving you boneless and trembling. With infinite care, he finally slid out of you, a soft, wet sound accompanying the withdrawal that made you whimper softly at the sudden emptiness. You felt the slick warmth he'd pumped into you trickle free onto the already soaked sheets. "Shhh, I got you." He soothed instantly, his big hands moving with surprising tenderness.

One arm hooked beneath your shoulders, the other beneath your knees, and he gathered you close against his chest as he carefully rolled onto his side. The movement brought you flush against the hard planes of his body, skin sticking where sweat hadn't yet dried. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting out a slow exhale as Bucky reached blindly towards the nightstand, fumbling for the soft cotton washcloth. He’d always come prepared. With meticulous care, he began to wipe the sticky evidence of your shared pleasure from your inner thighs and the swollen flesh between them.

The cloth was a shock at first, then soothing against your overheated, sensitive skin. He paid gentle attention to every curve, every fold, his touch reverent now instead of demanding. The sight of his seed mingled with your own slickness on the cloth sent a fresh wave of possessive satisfaction through him, visible in the slight tightening of his jaw before his expression softened again. A slow, utterly sated smile touched his lips as he tossed the cloth aside and pulled the sheet up over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders.

You subconsciously molded into his side as he kissed your forehead, lingering this time. "My good girl.” Nestled against him, surrounded by the scent of sex, sweat, and him, you felt utterly safe. The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the city beyond the windows and the steady rhythm of your breathing as you lay tangled in each other under the soft weight of the duvet. Bucky’s arm was wrapped snugly around your waist, holding you to his chest like he was afraid you might slip away again.

Like if he let go, someone else might steal you back. Your fingers traced lazy, aimless patterns along the metal plates of his left arm, marveling at how gentle something so cold and strong could feel. After a long stretch of silence, you finally broke it, your voice low and hoarse, still coated in the haze of what had just passed between you. “You really went all out, huh?” You teased, tipping your chin up to look around the suite, your lips curving with soft disbelief.

It was breathtaking. The kind of romantic gesture that felt pulled from a dream, except it was real, and it was him. The sprawling king-size bed behind you was draped in white linens, now rumpled from your bodies. Champagne rested in an ice bucket on the nearby table, condensation dripping slowly down the glass. Heart-shaped candles flickered across the space. Bucky looked down at you, his expression softened with something that looked like pride, but not the cocky kind. Something quieter. Earnest.

A hint of bashfulness pulled at the corners of his mouth, crinkling the skin at the edges of his eyes in that way you loved. "You deserve the world," He declared quietly, voice rough. “I figured… if I had a whole weekend, I’d make it count.” You bit your lip, emotion swelling in your chest. That was the thing about him, underneath all the muscle and metal and history, he was tender. Thoughtful. So hopelessly, endlessly in love with you. You nestled closer, letting your forehead rest against his collarbone.

Your breath ghosted against the hollow of his throat as you exhaled, pressing a featherlight kiss to the sensitive skin there. Your hand rested over his heart, fingers splayed, feeling the strong, steady thump beneath your palm. His heart. Your home. “You know I’m already marrying you, Bucky.” You whispered against his skin, as the diamond on your ring finger caught the candlelight. You felt it instantly, the subtle stutter of his heartbeat, the breath he inhaled just a little too sharply. His grip around you tightened.

His hand slid up your back, slow and deliberate, fingers spreading wide between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him like he needed the contact to stay grounded. He held you there, close, like he was trying to memorize the feeling of your body against his. “I know, but I just… wanted to remind you how much I love you.” You lifted your head then, meeting his eyes, eyes that had seen too much and still looked at you like you were something precious.

You kissed him slowly, lips brushing his with quiet gratitude and a love too big for words. “You do,” You whispered when you pulled back. “Every single day. And I'll spend the rest of our lives expressing how much I love you too.” He smiled, that small, rare smile only you ever got to see. Then, without another word, he pulled you into his arms again, pressing his lips to your temple, content to hold you in that quiet, candlelit room where for once, the world had nothing else to ask of you. No missions, no alarms, no interruptions.

Just Bucky and you, exactly where you were meant to be.

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e1e4n0r5 · 7 days ago

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Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Dark 1920s gangsters Caitvi x Reader

Words: 9625

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat! Abusive husband, cigarette smoking, alcohol use, attempted sex trafficking/prostitution, references to past rape, FFF threesome, clit rubbing (r! receiving), strangulation, oral sex (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), ice play, strap on usage (r! receiving), allusions to torture, death, happy ending!!

Notes: This is a dark fic with dark content. There is violence, smut, and references to past sexual abuse throughout. Read at your own discretion.

The bathroom mirror was still foggy from your bath, but you could see enough to fix your hair and makeup. Tony only let you wear cosmetics when he needed something from you, you mused sadly as you traced black liner along your upper lash line with a practiced hand. You hoped tonight wouldn’t be like the past. He’d promised it wouldn’t be. Blinking a few times, you inspected your work; it was passable. Your dress, the little black thing he always told you to wear, clung to your hips and breasts, intentionally a size too small.

Your husband leant against the doorframe behind you, watching silently as you worked. He always did.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” you asked softly, keeping your eyes on the mirror.

His reflection smirked faintly, but his eyes were sharp. “Out,” he said flatly, smoking his cigarette.

“Out where?” you pressed, looking at him through the mirror. Your voice was small, afraid. “I just…I’d like to know.”

“Does it matter?” he snapped suddenly, straightening. His smirk had hardened into something cruel, and his voice dropped into that familiar tone of condescension that made your stomach twist. “What, you need a fuckin’ itinerary now? Jesus Christ. Just do as you’re told and get ready.”

You froze, and busied yourself with your lipstick to hide the stinging in your eyes. “Sorry, Tony,” you murmured.

“Yeah, you’re sorry,” he muttered, stepping closer now, resting his hands on the sink beside you, caging you between his arms. His breath was hot against your ear as he added, “Now hurry the hell up and stop asking stupid questions. You’re here to look pretty tonight. That’s it. I’ll do the talking. Don’t ruin it.”

He pulled back, leaving you standing there clutching your lipstick, your knuckles white, your heart hammering in your chest.

When you finally dared glance back at your reflection, you barely recognised the woman staring back at you.

But you still picked up your clutch. And you still followed him out the door.

You’d learned a long time ago what happened if you didn’t.

The speakeasy was louder than you expected, given the nature of its business. That just meant they weren't afraid of the cops showing up.

The heavy doors swung shut behind you, muffling the cool night air and swallowing you into a haze of smoke and low light. Lively jazz music filled the air, bodies moving on the dance floor in a swirl of silk, feathers, and diamonds.

You clutched your purse close, trying not to trip on the dark carpet as Tony made his way toward the back, his hand gripping your wrist as he pulled you along.

You’d never been here before, though you’d heard whispers about it: The Last Drop, a high-end speakeasy that everyone knew was just a front for something even worse.

But Tony was confident as he walked, like he owned the place.

Everywhere you looked, people were watching him. But not in a good way.

A man sitting at the bar sneered openly as you passed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. A pair of women in sequined dresses glared. Even the bartender, tall and broad-shouldered, with a polished glass in hand, shot your husband a look of pure disgust before serving another customer.

You didn’t know what you’d expected. But it wasn’t this.

When you reached a roped-off metal staircase near the back, a woman with a metal arm and a black shirt stepped in front of you. She wore no smile, just a faint, disdainful curl of her lip.

“Well, well,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “Finally come to settle up? The bosses had almost run out of patience.”

Your husband stiffened but didn’t answer, just straightened his jacket and muttered, “Just tell ‘em I'm here, Sev.”

The bouncer’s eyes flicked to you and something passed over her face. Not kindness, exactly. But maybe pity.

“Sure,” she said finally, and unhooked the rope. “Let's not keep them waiting.”

You glanced at your husband, but he didn’t even look at you as he followed ‘Sev’ up the staircase, shoulders tight, jaw set.

You followed, heart in your throat.

She led you along the carpeted upper walkway, into a quieter corner of the club. The music was audible just enough to create atmosphere. The air was cooler, sharper, like stepping into another world.

They were already there, waiting.

In a round padded booth sat two women. They were both stunningly beautiful, in different ways.

The tall woman on the right was striking, even in her stillness. She wore a crisp navy blazer over a matching waistcoat that accentuated her curves. Her long legs were crossed under the table, a hand clad in a cream leather glove held a crystal wine glass. An eyepatch covered her left eye, her remaining eye a beautiful ice-blue, watching you closely as you and your husband approached. Her expression didn’t change. She could have been carved from marble.

Beside her sprawled a woman with pink hair. She lounged with one arm along the back of the booth, legs spread wide in pinstripe trousers, the corner of her mouth curled into a sharp, cocky grin. Her crisp white shirt had the top buttons open, suspenders over her shoulders. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing her tattooed forearms. She drummed her fingers lazily on the table, sizing you both up like a cat watching canaries in a cage.

Your husband straightened his jacket again – he was nervous – shot you a quick look, and forced a smile as he stepped closer.

The pink-haired butch spoke first, her grin lazy and sharp at the edges. “Look who finally decided to show his sorry ass.”

“Evening, bosses,” he said, trying to sound smooth. “Good to see you again, Cait, Vi. Sorry we kept you waiting,” he said with a greasy laugh, practically shoving you into the booth. He sat down after you, his leg bouncing nervously under the table.

“It’s Caitlyn to you, Tony,” the blue-haired femme corrected coldly, swirling the wine in her glass. “We’re not exactly on good terms right now.”

He started a bumbling apology, but the pink-haired woman – Vi – interrupted him.

“Drink?” she drawled, already signalling to a waiting attendant. Two crystal tumblers were placed on the table only seconds later, filled with a deep amber liquor that burned just to look at. Not to mention the illegality of the drink.

Your husband gave a nervous little laugh, taking one eagerly.

“Thanks. See?” he said, tipping it toward them. “We’re all friends here.”

Vi grinned wide, showing teeth as she lit a cigarette. She held open her silver case to you. “Want one, baby?”

Tony tried to reach over to take one, when she snapped it closed near his fingers. He pulled his hand back, chastised.

“Was I talkin’ to you?” she snapped. “Men. No fuckin’ manners.” She looked back at you, softer. “You want one, sweetheart?”

You blushed, gently shaking your head. “No, thank you, ma’am.”

She closed the case more softly, placing it in front of you with the matching silver lighter. “S’there if you change your mind.”

Caitlyn’s gloved fingers just twirled the stem of her own glass. “Friends, Tony?” she said flatly, finally speaking. Her voice was low and cold, and it made the hairs on your arms stand up. “That’s one word for it. Do you treat all your friends this poorly?”

Your husband blinked. “I-I don’t know what you mean, Caitlyn.”

“Don’t insult me,” she cut him off sharply. “You’re here because you’ve been given too many chances already. You’re on your last leg, and you know it.”

“You know how business is, especially in this economy! But I-I got somethin’ to make it up to you! Make us square.”

Your heart sank. You knew where this was going. You’d been here before. Many times.

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow, clearly sceptical, but didn’t speak.

Vi tilted her head, studying him. “That so? Don’t tell us: you finally got the cash together.” She turned in the booth a little, now more open to the two of you.

“Not…Exactly,” he admitted, and you felt your stomach drop. You already knew that tone of his. The one he used when he was about to do something vile. He threw an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, grinning at the two women across from you. “I got you somethin’ better. Her.”

There it was. You froze. Your fingers curled in your lap as the words sank in.

Vi just snorted softly, shaking her head in disbelief. Caitlyn didn’t even blink.

He leant forward across the booth, his hand tight around your shoulder, his fingers already leaving marks, his voice low and desperate. “You can have her. Call it collateral. Until I get the money sorted, which I will! You can do whatever you want with her – put her in one of your bordellos, give her to your men, put her on a street corner – I don’t care. Just don’t…Don’t hurt me, alright? You know I’ll pay you back.”

And suddenly it all clicked. The way he’d been on edge all day. The way he’d said nothing when you’d asked why you were coming here. The way his hand had gripped your arm all the way up the stairs.

“You’re…Selling me?”

His jaw tightened, his fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve as he hissed under his breath. “I need the money. You don’t know what they’ll do to me if I don’t pay. This is just business, I'll get you back after. Don’t make a scene.”

You stared at him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as his hand dug painfully into your arm. Your lips trembled as you spoke, broken, small, disbelieving.

“You promised I wouldn’t have to do this again, Tony.”

His head snapped toward you, his face twisting in a flash of anger. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he hissed.

But Vi’s grin dropped, and Caitlyn’s expression turned sharp as their eyes darted to you.

“Again, darling?” she asked, surprisingly soft.

Vi whistled low. “Oh, honey,” she said, her tone dripping with a strange, cruel tenderness as she leaned toward you. “You mean this ain’t the first time he’s sold you off to cover his sorry ass?”

Your husband swallowed hard, his hands tightening around his glass.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You sniffled. “How much does he owe?” you asked quietly, your fingers twisting in your lap.

Caitlyn looked at you closely. “Last tally was 5G’s.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Five…?”

“Afraid so, darling.”

Your hands trembled. You reached out for Vi’s cigarette case in front of you, trying to open it with shaking fingers.

She took pity on you. She took one out for you, placing it between your lips, opening her lighter. “Here, baby.” She held the flame up for you as you held the tip of the cigarette to the flame, inhaling unevenly.

Taking your first puff, your eyes filled. “$5,000, Tony?” you cried. “The house isn’t worth that! What have you been doing?”

“Drinking, gambling, whoring…” Vi explained before he could lie to you.

“You know those bordellos he’s so keen to send you to?” Caitlyn asked. “He was one of our regulars. Until he stopped paying the tab. After that, he went to the cards; he’s got the worst poker face in the world, but would never just cut his losses.”

You smoked again, trying to calm your nerves. A hand stroked the back of your neck tenderly.

Too tenderly for Tony.

Vi.

You sniffled again. “So…What happens now? Do I have to…?”

Caitlyn set her glass down and leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. Her lip curled faintly, and she finally spoke, her voice low and precise. “We don’t peddle flesh,” she said flatly, disdain lacing every word. “The girls who work for us choose to do so. And I don't get the impression that's the case here, darling.”

Your husband spoke up. “Look, I’m not sayin’ you gotta…Peddle her. Just take her. Have her. Use her. Whatever you want. You’re telling me she’s not worth-?”

Caitlyn interrupted, repeating coldly, “We don’t peddle flesh.” She gave your husband a withering stare, like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“What if I…” your throat clenched, and you had to wipe tears off your cheeks, “What if I went-?”

“Sweetheart,” Vi said softly, leaning into your ear, “Let us talk for a minute, okay? Have your drink,” she put the glass of whiskey in your hand, nudging it up to your mouth.

You drank obediently, just drinking and smoking silently, waiting for a verdict on your fate.

Tony watched your interaction, fury bubbling inside him at someone being gentle with you. “She can work, Caitlyn! Okay? Put her in one of those places, she’ll make you the money back in no time! She’s a good fuckin’ whore, okay?”

You wept at your husband’s words, your chin falling to your chest.

Vi’s hand, still on the back of your neck, kept rubbing tenderly. Wanting nothing more than to tear him limb from limb.

“As you know, our girls are $20 an hour,” Caitlyn said coldly. “We keep 7. Do you know how long it would take her to earn 5G for us, at $7 an hour?”

“Well, just keep all $20, she don’t need it!”

“So, your poor wife does 250 hours of work and gets nothing out of it?” Caitlyn raised an eyebrow sarcastically. “Not very gentlemanly of you, Tony.”

“Caitlyn, please-”

“We will take her off your hands, though.”

Your heart dropped, as his face lit up.

“Really?”

Caitlyn nodded, sipping her wine. “Yes. She’s not your problem anymore.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, slumping back down in the booth. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Cait-”

Vi smirked at your husband. “We didn’t say this clears your tab.”

Your husband’s face fell. “Wha...? Vi, c’mon, I-”

“Your debt stays,” she cut him off, voice hard. “But hey. Look on the bright side,” her smirk widened, taking the cigarette out of your hand gently, inhaling deeply, blowing a lazy stream of smoke in his direction, “At least you won’t have to worry about her anymore. Now you can focus on how to get us our money.” She gave you back the cigarette, her fingers lingering against yours.

The booth went quiet after Vi’s words.

Tony froze, blinking between the two of them. “Wait...” he stammered, “You’re…You’re takin’ her anyway? But I thought-”

Vi leaned back lazily, grinned at him. She spoke, her tone mocking. “You really thought handing your wife over was just gonna buy you out? That’s not how we do business.”

“Our debt is with you, Tony,” Caitlyn scolded. “Not this poor woman.”

Your husband’s face flushed, his hands clenching into fists on the table. “No,” he hissed, panic seeping into his voice. “No, you can’t just take her and still make me pay! That’s...That’s not...”

He started to stand, yanking at your arm, making you gasp in pain. “We’re leaving.”

But before you could even move, the bodyguard – Sev – broad-shouldered and silent, posted just beyond the curtain, stepped forward and planted a firm hand on your husband’s shoulder.

“Sit down,” she said evenly.

Your husband stumbled, his grip on you faltered as he dropped back onto the seat.

Vi’s arm was already sliding around your waist, lifting you over her lap and placing you between her and Caitlyn with an easy, possessive strength. “Come here, baby,” she purred near your ear, her breath warm against your neck.

Her fingers traced lazy circles high on your thigh, her other arm draped casually around your shoulders as she leaned in to murmur in your ear. “Pretty thing like you, stuck with a piece of shit like him? Don’t make much sense,” she purred. “So, tell me, sweetheart: what’s he done to you?”

You hesitated, lips parting as you glanced past her at your husband. His glare was sharp, venomous, but the pressure of Vi’s hand running up and down your thigh and Caitlyn’s calm presence behind you reminded you who was really in control.

Caitlyn’s icy voice followed, quiet and cutting. “Don’t look at him, darling,” she put a finger under your chin, turning your head. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snapped to hers. She tilted her head, blue eye glittering in the dim light. “Tell us,” she said. “Tell us how he’s treated you. Don’t hold back. We want the ugly details.”

You swallowed hard, but the words started spilling before you could stop them, their touch the softest you’d felt in years. “He…He hits me,” you said softly.

He stiffened, opening his mouth, but Sev squeezed even harder on his shoulder until it clicked, shutting him up with a pained grunt.

Vi made a low, unimpressed noise as she pressed her lips to your neck. “Figures,” she murmured darkly.

“Go on,” Caitlyn said coolly, her gloved fingertips tapping the table as she held your chin gently. “What else?”

You trembled slightly as Vi’s hand slowly slid over your dress, stroking your knee. “He calls me names,” you continued, your voice cracking. “Says I’m useless. Stupid. Every time he drinks, he takes it out on me. Broke my rib once.”

You felt Vi’s fingers flex at that, tightening possessively. She let out a sharp laugh that held no humour. “Broke your rib, huh? Real big man,” she sneered, looking over her shoulder to your husband. “What, didn’t like that she’s prettier than you? Didn’t like that she’s better?”

Your husband muttered something under his breath, but Sev silenced him with another squeeze to his shoulder. Something popped, and he stifled a cry.

Caitlyn’s expression barely changed, but her voice dropped another degree colder. “Anything else?” she asked.

You nodded faintly, tears pricking at your eyes now, unable to carry on.

“It’s alright,” she said softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. She fixed your husband with a gaze colder than ice. “We’re going to get back every last cent you owe us,” she said, her voice calm, clipped, and merciless.

Your husband swallowed hard, glancing at Caitlyn like a cornered rat. “But…She was all I had-”

Caitlyn cut him off with nothing more than a slight tilt of her head. “She was never yours to bargain with. And you’d do well to remember that.”

Vi’s laugh was low and wicked as she pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, her hand sliding higher up your thigh as you moaned at her attention. “Oh, she’s ours now, asshole,” she murmured against your ear. “And you’re still screwed.”

Caitlyn’s attention was fixed coldly on your husband. “Don’t insult us by pretending you’d ever pay your debt if we’d put her to work. We all know you’d disappear the second you walked out that door. When you'd sat down, I was going to offer you two days to come back with fifty percent.”

He swallowed thickly, Sev’s metal hand still squeezing his shoulder. “But now?”

She sipped her wine, letting silence fill the booth. “We really don’t appreciate how you’ve treated this sweet little thing,” her hand along the booth stroked the back of your hair, Vi still kissing your neck softly as you moaned weakly. “So now, you’re out of time, Tony. And we’ll have to get our money out of you a different way.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Vi murmured to you now, ignoring your husband completely. “We’ll take good care of you. Won’t we, Cait?”

Caitlyn finally turned her head just slightly, her icy blue gaze meeting yours. She gave you a single, deliberate once-over, then her lip curved into the smallest of smiles, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” she said smoothly. “We will.”

Vi let out a low growl and kissed the side of your head. “Oh, baby,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. “He had no idea what he had, did he?” Her hand slid even higher now, her fingers grazing over your inner thigh as she shifted your legs apart a little.

She glanced at Caitlyn, grinning wickedly. “What d’you think, Cupcake? She’s never been treated right, huh?”

Caitlyn’s lip curved faintly. Her eye met yours. “Have you ever been with a woman before?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with something sharper, more dangerous.

You shook your head, breath hitching as Vi’s thumb dragged slow, taunting circles under your dress. “N-no.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

“Can I kiss you, darling?”

You moaned softly, your eyes dropping down to her painted lips. “Yes.”

She smiled, like a fox who’d finally caught a rabbit. “Good girl,” she whispered, finally pressing her lips to yours.

You couldn’t control how loudly you moaned against her. It was wonderful. You could taste her expensive wine on her lips and tongue as she delicately teased your lips open. Someone slipped the cigarette out of your fingers, and your now free hand reached up and touched her cheek.

She smiled against you, holding your own cheek as she deepened the kiss.

Your husband’s breathing was ragged now, his fists clenched on his knees, but Sev’s hand stayed firm on his shoulder, keeping him pinned in his seat. His eyes darted between the two women and you, wide and full of impotent rage.

Vi nudged your thighs apart, her hand slowly creeping under your dress. “We’re gonna make you forget his name, sweetheart.”

Her fingertips touched your pussy through your panties.

You gasped into Caitlyn’s mouth, your eyes shooting open.

Her eye twinkled back at you. “Is that alright, darling? If Violet touches you?”

You whimpered, nodding desperately as Vi’s fingers gently circled your clit over the material.

“Relax for me, sweetheart,” Vi murmured against your neck, her voice low and husky, her breath hot where it ghosted over your skin. Her fingers circled you with care, coaxing little gasps from your lips. “That’s it. You’re okay. I got you.”

The tenderness in her touch almost broke you; it was more kindness than you’d been shown in years.

Vi circled the spot at the top of your pussy that made you see stars, her fingertips gently moving over you, eliciting soft and sweet moans from your lips. Your eyes drifted closed as your hips moved on her fingers.

And then Caitlyn leant in close, her gloved fingers curling under your chin to tilt your head toward her. She didn’t kiss you that time. Instead, she pressed her lips to your ear, whispering words soft enough that only you could hear them.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmured, her cool voice like silk. “You’re beautiful when you let go like this. Let her take care of you. We’ll take care of you now.”

Vi hummed her agreement, kissing along your shoulder, her fingers working you tenderly, as though she had all the time in the world. “That’s right, doll,” she growled softly. “You deserve this. Every bit of it. Let me hear you.”

You gasped again, trembling between them as Caitlyn’s words kept coming, a quiet counterpoint to the way Vi’s fingers worked you higher and higher.

And all your husband could do was sit there, silent, powerless, forced to watch as they claimed you right there between them.

It didn’t take long for you to writhe on Vi’s hand, your pussy clenching on nothing as a soft orgasm rolled through you. Your chest heaved as you panted, both women whispering praise in your ears as they held you through it.

“You liked that, baby?” Vi teased in your ear. “Came apart for me so fast. Did it feel good?”

“I…” you gasped when her fingers only slowed down a little, “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

They both looked at you curiously.

Caitlyn asked for the both of them. “Have you not experienced that before, darling?”

You shook your head.

Vi’s eyes widened. “Never? Not once?”

You shook your head again. “No.”

The butch glared at your husband over her shoulder. “What the fuck have you been doing with her?” She looked back at you. “How long have you been married?”

“Eight years,” you answered, sipping the whiskey Caitlyn handed to you.

“So, in eight fuckin’ years, he’s never once made you fall apart like that?”

You frowned, feeling oddly ashamed. “Was he supposed to? Did I do it wrong?”

Vi groaned into your neck, pressing reassuring kisses to your skin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re perfect. It’s him that’s been doing it wrong.”

“Not that that will be a concern for much longer,” Caitlyn threatened. “Let’s head upstairs, darling.”

She elegantly slid out of the booth, holding out her hand for you. You took it, even as you looked back to see Sev pull your husband out the other end, dragging him to his feet as Vi went out that side. She grabbed his upper arm, twisting it behind him as she and Sev frog-marched him after you and Caitlyn.

The club’s music and chatter faded as Caitlyn wrapped an arm possessively around your waist, guiding you through a door at the end of the upper walkway, down a plain concrete corridor, and through another door at the end. Vi and Sev followed close behind, dragging your husband along between them even as he tried to resist.

You arrived in a softly-lit, richly decorated office. The scent of leather and expensive whiskey hung in the air. A wide, low, maroon leather sofa sat around a coffee table and expensive rug, matching armchairs accompanying it.

Caitlyn led you to a drinks cabinet against a wall, keeping you distracted whilst Vi and Sev secured your husband to a cheap metal chair opposite the sofa.

Caitlyn asked you gently what drink you’d prefer, letting you smell the aroma of a sweet smoky bourbon as the two women made quick work of tying Tony’s wrists and ankles to the chair, ignoring his sputtering protests. He strained against the ropes uselessly, frantically looking around the room for some sort of escape.

There would be none.

Vi gave their bodyguard a nod. “Thanks, ‘Vika.”

She nodded and left the room, standing guard outside.

You and Caitlyn sipped some of the bourbon together, before she stroked your cheek. “Darling, why don’t you go freshen up in the bathroom?”

Vi was behind you, her calloused palms sliding over your hips tenderly. “We just need a quick word with this sack o’ shit.”

You glanced at him nervously. “What are you going to do to him?”

“I think you should focus on what we’re going to do to you,” Caitlyn smirked charmingly, pecking your lips. “Go on.”

Vi nudged you towards a door, nodding encouragingly even when you hesitated to close it behind you.

The moment you did, their body language changed.

Caitlyn’s back straightened and her shoulders braced back, making herself even taller. Vi rolled her neck and shoulders back, clicking her knuckles. Turning on Tony, she approached him slowly.

He shook his head beseechingly. “Vi, Vi, we don’t…We don’t have to do this! I’ll get the money, I promise!”

She shook her head, coming down to his level. “This ain’t about the money anymore, and you know it.”

Caitlyn approached, unbuckling her belt from her trousers. “Besides, we already have ways to get our money back.”

“Look, I’ll-I’ll go away. I’ll get a fake name, and I’ll go far away. I won’t ever hurt no-one else, I promise!”

Caitlyn walked behind him and passed her belt around his neck, lifting him and the chair. Vi’s hands on his knees forced him back down, putting maximum pressure on his neck from the belt. He couldn’t even gasp, nor choke; not a single sound left his throat as his face turned red and he struggled.

After a few seconds, Caitlyn let go. He dropped back down in the chair, coughing and spluttering as he did, desperately dragging in air to his lungs.

They let him breathe a few times, before Caitlyn tightened the belt and lifted again. Vi forced the chair back down, choking him again. They said nothing as they strangled him, watching his face gradually turn pink, then red, then a shade of purple.

Just as his eyes started to roll back, they stopped. Vi slapped his face until he breathed again, patting his shoulder good-naturedly.

“There you go, buddy,” she said sarcastically. “Don’t pass out. We’re not finished here.”

Cait loosely wrapped the belt around his neck, not restricting his breathing, just leaving it there. For later.

You knocked on the bathroom door from the inside. “Caitlyn? Vi? Should I come out now?”

They smiled to each other, their mood lifted once more.

“Come on out, baby,” Vi called happily.

You came back into the room nervously. You hadn’t heard everything that happened, but you’d heard enough. You smoothed your hands down your dress, walking over to them timidly.

Caitlyn smiled at you genuinely, a gloved hand trailing slowly up your arm. “That dress doesn’t do you justice,” she murmured thoughtfully, her cool blue gaze raking over you.

Vi grinned, steering you toward the sofa. “C’mere, sweetheart,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

You let them move you, half in a daze, half on fire already from what they’d done to you downstairs. Vi sat down first, sprawling back with that lazy, hungry grin, and pulled you onto her lap, her front to your back.

“You see this, big guy?” she called across the room to your husband, who was straining against the ropes. “This is what she deserves. Not your sorry excuse for a man’s hands on her.”

Caitlyn crossed the room slowly, her stiletto heels clicking on the floor, her eyes locked on you. She slid her jacket from her shoulders in one smooth motion, draping it over the armchair next to the sofa. She knelt elegantly in front of you both.

“You’re trembling,” she noted softly, her gloved fingers brushing your thighs. “Don’t be frightened. You’re safe here. You’re wanted. We only want what you want to offer. If you want us to stop, just say stop.”

Vi nudged your chin to look at her. “Do you understand, sweetheart?”

You nodded.

“Say it for us.”

You swallowed. “I understand.”

“What do you understand?” she pressed.

“I-I can say no. And you’ll stop.”

Vi smiled back at you. “Good girl.”

Caitlyn’s hands gently pushed your dress up, and then froze. “Darling…What’s this?” she asked, voice turning cold.

You looked down in alarm, then your heart started racing.

Her fingers stroked over the angry bruise on your inner thigh, her face set like stone. The round mark was several inches across, a horrible deep purple.

“Um…That’s…”

“Did he do that to you?” Vi asked gently, even as she had to force herself not to kill him there and then.

You bit your lip, and nodded.

“When?”

“A few nights ago.”

“Why?”

Your eyes filled with tears. “He wanted sex. I didn’t want.”

Their hands clenched on you. Caitlyn had to look away so you couldn’t see how murderous her eye became, and Vi buried her face in your hair, gritting her teeth.

“Are there more?” Caitlyn asked softly.

You nodded.

“Can you show us, baby? So we don’t hurt you?”

Caitlyn helped you stand and Vi unzipped the back of your dress. Before she’d even finished, she saw another one. On the left side of your back was another bruise, older than the first. As you shimmied your dress down, Caitlyn saw finger-marks on both breasts; someone had grabbed you, hard. Vi had to breathe deeply when she saw the belt marks across your buttocks.

“How many times, Tony?” she asked harshly, the backs of her fingers gently stroking over the clear lines.

“Vi…” he tried to begin.

“How many!” Vi erupted, immediately regretting it when you whimpered in fright. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” she quickly whispered in your ear, pressing apologetic kisses to your shoulder.

“Twenty,” you answered for him. “I asked him if he’d made this month’s mortgage payment.”

“Are you in pain, sweetheart?” Caitlyn asked, gently touching your chin. “I have medicine-”

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m alright. They’re healing.”

She gave you a hard look, sceptical.

“Really,” you asserted. “I’m alright, Caitlyn. I promise.”

“Do you still want this?” she asked, fully prepared to stop.

But you nodded your head. “Yes. Yes, I want this.”

She let herself smile back at you. “Sit back down with Vi.”

Vi sat on the couch again, gently pulling you into her lap, kissing your shoulder again.

Caitlyn knelt between Vi’s spread legs, touching your closed knees gently. “Has anyone ever kissed you down there, sweetheart?”

You flushed red. “N-No. Do people do that?”

They both chuckled.

“Oh yes, darling,” Caitlyn promised, stroking her hands up your thighs. “It will feel intense for you, for the first time, but it’ll be wonderful. Do you want to try it?”

You swallowed your nerves down and nodded.

Vi slipped her hands between your thighs. “Open wide for her, baby.” You blushed again but let the two of them spread your legs, Vi gently cupping your breasts as a reward, being careful of your bruises.

“You’re perfect, darling,” Caitlyn gushed, softly running her fingertips over your shaved skin. She leant down and slowly, gently, tenderly, pressed small kisses over your mound, just enough to let you get used to her touch.

You gasped every time she did so, your hips jolting a little against her. Vi kept her hands moving over you, never letting them settle. Stroking your hips, skimming your sides, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples. She whispered praise in your ear, making you shiver every time.

Caitlyn gave your clit its first kiss. You sighed loudly, your head dropping back onto Vi’s shoulder. You whined on the second kiss, and you groaned on the third. When she gently sucked it into her mouth, your eyes shot open.

“Gods!” you cursed, clenching your hands at your sides, unsure what to do with them.

“Hold her hair,” Vi instructed, nudging your hands towards Caitlyn’s head. “Just don’t mess up her bun; you’ll never hear the end of it,” she teased.

You shakily lifted your hands and rested them on Caitlyn’s head, earning a pleased hum from her mouth, sending vibrations through you. She licked up and down your slit, gently exploring your lips, returning to your clit every few seconds, building you up.

Your breath quickly started to come in choppy pants, your chest heaving under Vi’s hands as the feeling from downstairs started building again.

“It’s…It’s happening again,” you moaned, your hips moving against Caitlyn’s head.

“You’re coming?” Vi asked gently.

“I-I think so?” you looked down at Caitlyn, your breath catching when your eyes met hers. Looking at her as she licked your centre sent you over the edge, and you moaned loudly. “I’m coming,” you gasped, your head dropping back as you moaned, your core leaking juices into Caitlyn’s eager mouth, making her moan against you again.

They held you as your hips rolled and bucked, eventually calming down and relaxing into Vi’s lap. She kissed your neck and shoulder throughout, murmuring praise and comfort in your ear. Caitlyn slowly moved her mouth off your centre, placing kisses around your hips and thighs.

“Was that alright, darling?” she asked softly.

You almost laughed at the absurdity of the question.

You were already breathless as you sat sideways on Vi’s lap, your head tipped back as her fingers worked you open, unrelenting. Caitlyn sat poised at your side, her gloved hand stroking along your thigh, whispering little praises to you as you shivered and whimpered for them.

Across the room, Tony strained against the ropes, his face dark with fury and humiliation. He finally snapped, his voice sharp, cracking through the heavy quiet.

“Stop! Just stop it!” he barked. “She’s faking it! No woman enjoys it that much! Nobody sounds like that unless they’re putting on a show.”

You froze, shame washing over you for just a second, but then Vi’s laugh cut through the air, low and dangerous, and Caitlyn’s cold, velvety chuckle followed right behind.

Vi nuzzled into your neck, her breath hot as her fingers kept moving, quick and steady, making you squirm despite yourself. “Oh, that’s rich,” she snorted, her grin pressed against your skin. “That’s what you tell yourself to sleep at night, huh? That it’s her fault you never made her feel like this?”

Caitlyn gave a soft, elegant laugh as she stood, removing her gloves. “How utterly pitiful,” she sneered coolly, her sharp eye cutting to him. “A man who doesn’t even know what it sounds like when a woman is truly enjoying herself.”

Without warning, she shoved her gloves into his mouth, moving her belt up to keep them there, looping it around and buckling it behind his head.

“Now, don’t disturb us again.”

Vi pressed a kiss just under your ear, chuckling darkly as you trembled for her. “Keep watching, pal,” she drawled, her fingers curling just right to draw another desperate sound from your lips. “She’s not faking now. This is real. This is what you wouldn’t give her.”

Your husband’s face was crimson with rage, but he couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but sit there and watch as they coaxed another gasp out of you, another shudder, another broken little moan that only made their mocking smiles sharper.

Vi’s laugh rumbled against your back as she shot him one last wicked grin.

“Guess you just weren’t man enough,” she said simply, before turning her attention back to you completely.

And you stopped caring what he thought entirely, because their hands and voices made you forget he even existed.

You trembled, body slack under Caitlyn as her fingers worked you, her calm precision in perfect counterpoint to Vi’s roughness. They’d kept you between them for what felt like hours already, coaxing every sound and shiver from you, filling the room with their low praise and wicked murmurs.

But this time, when Caitlyn’s fingers pressed deeper and your hips flinched back just slightly, she noticed. She always noticed.

Her voice was soft, though no less commanding. “Are you alright, darling? Are you getting sore?”

You swallowed and shook your head, though your voice betrayed you. “I can…I can take it,” you whispered, almost pleading, even as you winced from tenderness. “Please don’t stop…”

Vi laughed softly against your neck, her lips grazing your skin. “Oh, baby…You’re a fighter, huh? You’d let us wreck you completely before you said ‘enough,’ wouldn’t you?”

Your little whimper made Caitlyn’s lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.

Vi glanced up at her. “I’ve got an idea,” she murmured. Without another word, she stood, striding over to the drinks cabinet against the wall, and returned carrying the silver ice bucket in one hand.

The cubes inside clinked as she set it on the low table in front of the sofa. She grabbed a cube in her palm, already slick with meltwater.

“Do you trust us, sweetheart?” Vi asked.

You nodded desperately, ready to take whatever they wanted to give.

“Spread your legs wider for us.”

They coaxed your thighs further apart, Cait gently pinning a thigh between her and the back of the sofa, Vi holding your other back with her right hand.

Vi started first. Her chilled fingertips traced a melting cube over your inner thighs, then directly over your swollen, tender vulva. The shock of cold made you cry out and jerk, but their bodies kept you in place.

“Good girl,” Caitlyn whispered reverently against your ear, and then her long, elegant fingers dipped into the bucket too, plucking out another cube. “Does that feel better, baby?”

Between the two of them, they worked you over slowly and deliberately. The shocking chill of the ice sliding over your clit, tracing teasing circles, then gliding lower over your folds and up your slit, melting rivulets trickling down your skin. Every time you gasped and writhed, they soothed you with soft murmurs and firm hands holding you still.

“See how good this feels?” Vi purred, watching you melt under their touch as the ice melted on your heated skin. “Better already, huh?”

You whimpered as Caitlyn gently eased a single cube inside you, the cold making you shiver violently, and then Vi added another, then another. Carefully, slowly, Caitlyn slid a finger back inside you, moving it in circles to help the icy little shapes soothe your soreness from the inside.

“That’s it,” Caitlyn praised, her lips brushing over your temple. “We’ll take care of you. You just let us.”

Vi’s grin was sharp as she watched you arch and gasp, your body strung tight between them again even as the chill settled deep in your core.

“We’re gonna keep you feeling good all night long, sugar,” she murmured, kissing the side of your neck as Caitlyn’s fingers started to move again, now softer, deliberate, working with the cold inside you.

And as you moaned and writhed between them, you felt nothing of the pain anymore, only the wicked, endless pleasure of belonging to them.

After you’d come again on Caitlyn’s fingers, and then again on Vi’s, Caitlyn rose from the couch, easing your thigh back down from where she’d kept it pinned. Vi held your hair, turned your head towards her, and kissed you passionately, slipping her tongue against yours.

Caitlyn walked over to her desk, unlocked the top drawer, and reached inside. Coming back over to you, she knelt next to you, stroking your cheek when Vi released you.

“I’d like to ask you something, darling,” she said, her voice calm but quieter now. “And I want you to understand: the choice is entirely yours. Whatever you say, we will respect it.”

Your breath hitched as she held up a tangle of leather straps with a glass phallus attached.

But her expression wasn’t cruel. There was no mockery in her sharp blue eye as she held up the glass for you to examine.

“Would this be all right for you, sweetheart?” she asked softly, her tone deliberate but gentle, knowing how heavy the question would be to you. “If you’d rather not, if it brings you any pain, any memories you don’t want to relive – you can say no. And we’ll put it away. We can keep going without it, or we can stop here if you’ve had enough.”

You stared at it for a long moment, your stomach twisting, but not from fear. Not this time.

Vi leaned in, nuzzling into your neck as she murmured, “We ain’t him or any of the others, sweetheart. We’ll only use it to make you feel good. You deserve to know what it can feel like in the right hands. But only if you want to.”

Your lips parted, your voice quiet but clear when you finally whispered,

“Yes. Please.”

A slow, approving smile curved Caitlyn’s mouth as she straightened to her full height.

“Good girl,” she praised, fastening the straps over her tailored trousers.

Vi kissed your neck proudly, her grin hot against your cheek as she purred. “So proud of you, you're so brave.”

Caitlyn adjusted the straps at her hips with smooth, practiced movements, buckling the leather snugly before she sat back on the couch. She leaned against the cushions, her long legs parted slightly, the harness gleaming in the low light from the chandelier.

Her sharp gaze softened as it settled on you.

“Come here, darling,” she murmured, patting her thighs. “This way you can control it.”

Your fingers trembled faintly as Vi helped you shift. She planted a tender kiss against your cheek, her hands firm on your waist as she guided you forward onto Caitlyn’s lap.

Caitlyn nodded faintly, her hand resting lightly on your knee as you moved closer. “You’re in control now,” she added quietly, her tone measured but kind.

You swallowed hard as you climbed onto her lap, straddling her thighs, your knees sinking into the leather cushions on either side of her hips. The strap was cool and smooth against the inside of your thigh as you settled yourself, your hands instinctively clutching her shoulders for balance.

She didn’t grab at you, didn’t rush you; she simply let you breathe, her hands sliding up your sides, her thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles over your ribs.

“Take your time,” she murmured, her voice steady, her eyes locked on yours. “You decide how this goes; you can stop whenever you want.”

That little bit of courage lit in your chest then, and you nodded faintly, drawing a proud little smile from Caitlyn. Her hands held you steady as you shifted your hips, feeling the tip press and slide against you, waiting until you were ready.

“That’s it,” Caitlyn whispered, her tone low and velvety, her eye never leaving yours. “You’re perfect, darling. Take what you need. Take all you deserve.”

You sank down slowly, gasping as the toy stretched you. But not cruelly, not painfully. Not like the past. Caitlyn’s hands stayed steady at your hips, letting you set the pace entirely, while Vi kissed and whispered praise at your back, her fingers brushing through your hair.

And across the room, the man who’d hurt you, belittled you, sold you, was forced to watch as they remade you into something cherished.

“Good girl,” Caitlyn praised softly when your hips finally met hers, her voice kind and proud as you moaned and whined. “That’s it. You’re doing so well for us.”

Vi’s grin pressed against your neck, her teeth grazing lightly as she added, “Bet he never made you sound this pretty, huh?”

You let out a breathless little laugh through your tears, and for the first time in years, you felt whole.

Caitlyn touched your cheek, gently wiping away tears with her thumb. “Are you alright, darling? Too much?”

You shook your head. “It doesn't hurt,” you breathed in relief, a happy smile creeping onto your face.

They both softened against you.

“It never should have.”

You moved in Caitlyn’s lap, slowly at first, testing your own pace, your own depth. Each time you sank down on her, their hands steadied you with that calm, unshakable control they both carried in everything they did. Caitlyn’s eye never left yours, and every time you gasped or whimpered softly, her lips would curve in the faintest smile, her voice low and soothing.

“That’s it, darling. Look at you, so brave. You're completely perfect, every inch of you.”

Vi was behind you the whole time, her chest warm against your back as she pressed kisses to your shoulders, your neck, your jawline. Her hands roamed lazily, one on your stomach, one brushing up to your breast, and she kept whispering in your ear between kisses.

“You feel that? That’s what you were made for, baby girl, bein’ worshiped like this. You’re gorgeous.”

You lost track of time in their praise, in the way Caitlyn’s fingers flexed against your hips every time you took her deeper, in the way Vi’s teeth grazed your ear when you whimpered her name.

But after a while, your thighs began to shake, your movements faltering as your strength gave out. You tried to keep going, biting your lip, but Caitlyn’s hands stilled you with gentle firmness.

“Shh, darling,” she whispered, her thumbs rubbing little circles into your skin as she leant in, kissing you softly. “No need to tire yourself out. You’ve done beautifully.”

They both eased you back onto your back, the strap never leaving you, their strong hands supporting you as they shifted you down onto the cool couch cushions. You lay back, flushed and trembling, as Caitlyn adjusted herself above you.

Vi crouched at your side, her hand stroking your hair back, murmuring sweet nothings.

Caitlyn hovered over you now, your knees bracketing her hips, her body stretching over yours. The sight of her above you – collected, powerful, and yet so tender – sent another shiver down your spine.

She cupped your cheek in one hand, her thumb brushing away the dampness there.

“We’ll take care of you now,” she promised softly. “Just lie back and let us show you how it should have been all along.”

Vi’s hand squeezed yours, her grin warm and full of pride as Caitlyn pressed her hips forward, gently filling you again, slow and deliberate.

“That’s it, sugar,” Vi murmured, her lips at your temple as you moaned softly. “Let her take care of you. You’re safe.”

Caitlyn’s hips rolled smoothly, her eyes locked on yours as she whispered every word like a vow. “No more pain. No more fear. Only pleasure. Only us.”

And between the two of them – Vi’s mouth at your ear and neck, Caitlyn’s hand holding yours – you truly believed it.

Caitlyn moved above you now, her body poised and commanding yet so unbearably gentle as she worked you with long, deliberate strokes. Her breath was even, her expression serene but darkened with quiet hunger as she watched you writhe beneath her.

Vi’s fingers threaded through your hair, her other hand stroking your cheek, murmuring praise against your temple. “Look at you, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re perfect like this. Ours. All ours.”

But then something shifted in you – a flicker of defiance sparking deep in your chest. You swallowed, your breaths shallow and shaky, and then you turned your head.

And looked right at him.

Across the room, still tied to the chair, your husband froze when your eyes found his. His face was twisted with rage, shame, disbelief – but he couldn’t look away.

You held his gaze as Caitlyn’s hips rolled into you, steady and relentless, drawing sounds from your lips you’d never known you could make.

Vi noticed first, grinning when she saw where your attention had gone. “That’s it, baby girl,” she whispered, her voice hot against your ear. “You make him watch. Make him see what it looks like when someone actually gives a damn about you. Let him see what he threw away.”

Caitlyn’s sharp blue eye flicked briefly toward him as well, then back down to you with a faint smirk tugging at her mouth. “Good girl,” she murmured approvingly, her pace quickening, her hands firm on your hips. “Let him see you come apart for me.”

Your fingers dug into the cushions, your gaze locked with his even as your body trembled, your lips parting in a soft, broken moan when Caitlyn drove you higher and higher. You refused to look away.

You wanted him to see.

He’d watched men fuck you before, with tears in your eyes then, but they were always tears of pain and shame. You wanted him to see the tears in your eyes now; tears of release this time, of pleasure so overwhelming it made you sob.

Caitlyn’s voice was low and velvety, coaxing you through it. “That’s it, just like that, darling. Show him what it looks like when someone actually knows how to touch you.”

And when it finally crested – when the wave broke and your back arched beneath her, your body clenching around her with a ragged cry – you kept your eyes on his. You watched his face as you came for her, as Caitlyn groaned softly above you and let herself follow you over the edge, her hands tightening on your hips.

You collapsed back against the cushions, chest heaving, still staring at him as his head finally dropped, his fury and shame no longer enough to meet your gaze.

Vi chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to your damp cheek. “That’s our girl,” she purred smugly. “Took his power right outta his hands and never even broke a sweat.”

Caitlyn stayed above you, brushing her lips to your ear as she whispered, “That’s the last thing he’ll ever see you do. And it’s all the proof he needs that you were never his to ruin.”

And you believed her. Completely.

The office windows glowed, pale orange light seeping in from the waking city outside. The sun was rising.

You lay curled on Vi’s lap, Caitlyn’s jacket draped over you, dazed and boneless as your head rested against her neck. Caitlyn sat on one side, cool and pristine despite the long night, her hand stroking gently over your hair. Vi’s free hand stroked your shin, squeezing gently, her head resting on yours as she breathed slow and steady.

Across the room, Tony was still tied to the chair, slack-jawed, silent now, his face ashen and his shirt clinging to him with sweat.

It was quiet now. Still.

Vi shifted slightly beneath you and glanced at Caitlyn. “You want me to…?” she muttered, tilting her chin toward your husband’s slumped, glaring form still tied to the chair.

Caitlyn shook her head with a faint smile. “No. You take her home. She’s not to see any more of this.”

She pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up. “Sevika,” she called, her voice cool and commanding.

The heavy metal door opened, and Sevika stepped inside, a hulking presence in her dark suit. She cast one look at you in Vi’s arms, then her eyes cut to the chair. The faint curl of her lip said she’d been expecting this.

“You rang?” she drawled.

Caitlyn gestured idly toward the man. “Start laying down the tarps,” she instructed, rolling up her shirt sleeves.

“On it.” Sevika strode into the room. Opening a cabinet, she pulled out several folded plastic sheets, spreading them smoothly across the hardwood floor, her boots echoing softly as she worked.

Vi shifted you a little, easing your limbs back into the soft slip dress they’d removed earlier, tugging the straps over your shoulders with care. “C’mon, sweetheart,” she murmured as you blinked groggily, “let’s get you home. You’ve done more than enough tonight.”

Her arms slid under your knees and your back, scooping you up with effortless strength. You curled into her chest, your cheek pressed against the crook of her neck.

You barely registered Sevika speaking low into the phone on the desk behind you as Vi carried you toward the door.

“…Same rates for all the parts?” Sevika asked. “Delivery in a few hours. Nah, don’t worry. Package’ll still be breathing when you get it. …Yeah. Yeah, doc. See you soon.”

Vi just smirked darkly at Caitlyn over her shoulder as she left to take you home. Not to the place you'd lived in before. Your new home. With them.

Caitlyn was already at her desk, laying out a neat row of gleaming tools that caught the dim light: pliers, knives, pincers, hammers…

Picking up the pliers, she made her way over to Tony as he started begging behind the gag, shaking his head as he cried.

“Save your tears, Tony; we've got a long way to go before your horrid life is at an end. You’re not worth the bullet it would take to kill you or the cement to weigh you down in the river,” Caitlyn murmured, her tone flat and clinical. “But you won't go to waste. There are parts of you that still have value...Heart, lungs, kidneys, liver.”

Tony's eyes widened and he started bawling.

“That's the doc’s job, though. We've got hours yet,” she clicked the pliers menacingly.

“No one hurts what’s ours.”

The sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, warm and golden on your bare skin. You blinked slowly as you woke, still drowsy, still cocooned in silken sheets that always smelled faintly of Caitlyn’s expensive perfume and Vi’s cigarette smoke.

The bed was enormous, soft enough to swallow you whole, as you lay on your stomach, one of Vi’s arms draped over your waist, possessive even sleep. Caitlyn was already awake, of course – she sat in a chair by the window, long legs crossed, a book resting in her lap.

She looked up when you stirred, and a small smile curled her lips. “Good morning, darling,” she said softly, her voice like velvet in the quiet of the room.

You couldn’t help but smile back, even though your throat felt tight. You still weren’t used to this: waking up warm and safe, instead of cold and afraid. Waking up without bruises. Waking up without him.

You didn’t know what they did to him. Only that they got their money back.

Vi shifted behind you with a sleepy groan, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Mmm. She’s up,” she muttered, her voice rough and low. “’Bout time. Was starting to miss that pretty smile.”

You laughed faintly, ducking your head as your cheeks heated. Vi’s arm tightened around you, pulling you back against her chest, and Caitlyn set her book aside to stand and join you both on the bed.

“Still tired?” Caitlyn asked gently as she sat on the edge of the mattress, her cool fingers brushing a lock of hair from your cheek.

“Just…Thinking,” you admitted quietly.

Vi grunted, shifting up to rest her chin on your shoulder, her hand splaying low on your stomach. “Uh-oh,” she teased lightly. “Don’t do that. You’re not allowed to think too hard about anything anymore. You’re a kept woman, remember?”

Caitlyn smirked faintly, though her sharp eye softened as she looked at you. “She’s right,” Caitlyn said simply, her fingers traced down your jaw. “You don’t need to think about him. Or any of it. That life is over, darling. You’re ours now.”

The past few months had been a blur of silk and leather, of whispered promises and passionate kisses, of expensive clothes and quiet nights in their arms.

You only knew you didn't wake up afraid anymore. And you never would again.

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