#I am also rather slick

[thelucidduchess]

The Underworld Saga experience

[typosandtea]

Nobody including me posts about their ocs enough so please please please reblog reply or whatever with some oc tidbits!

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐨𝐡, 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after a particularly rough mission, bob is insistent on taking care of you — though, you’re better at taking care of one another, instead.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: robert reynolds (sentry) x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.3K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: soft smut (mdni), mentions of past trauma/insecurities, mental health talk, tooth-rotting fluff/loving antics, sub!bob but he’s also a little assertive, body worship, bob has a praise kink, hair pulling, face-sitting, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, heavy kissing, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, descriptions of cum, cowgirl position, riding. heavy aftercare.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I am so obsessed with him that it actively eats away at my brain. 😭 Anyway, I love Bob & I love writing for him even more! I hope that you guys enjoy! Thank you for your support! 🫶

Scalding columns of water douse you from above, the shower threatening to burn your flesh if you didn’t adjust the temperature.

In the aftermath of another Avengers operation, it’s as if pieces of yourself are chipped away, healing with time, a pang of exhaustion reverberating through your marrow.

Even with an inhuman durability, the pain is raw, indents of fists and flying rubble interlaced into your flesh.

Each bruise is muscle-deep, knots made by hostile hands, peppered against your ribcage, threading along your spine; even searing water offers little relief from the dull ache.

Steam wisps in damp clouds throughout your bathroom, tepid, but it clears your senses, as if it’s washing away the mission you’d recently returned from. Exhaustion hasn’t hit you yet, merely looming in the background, a patient spectator.

Lungs expand with a shallow inhale, droplets cascading over your body, carrying with it a trail of copper, swirling into the drain. A handful of cuts mar your flesh, dried blood scrubbed clean when the water blankets you.

Through furrowed brows, your gaze screws shut, content to marinate beneath the shower’s intense pressure, knees folded, tucked near your chest. Tresses are soaked, damp and sticking to your skull, oozing with warmth.

Soap suds have long since dissipated, swallowed by rivulets of water, trickling through the chrome grate. The drone of water hitting the floor provides a gentle ambiance, accompanied by your breath — steady, shallow.

Reaching for the knob, you turn it clockwise, the spout beginning to sputter as you shut off the shower. There’s a hush that follows, save for the idle hum of the fan, an occasional buzz of the lights that flicker, casting your bathroom in an orange glow.

A fluffy towel awaits you, strewn over black, metallic rungs that match the general aesthetic of your room. Valentina made everything neutral, mute — the distinct lack of color made for an eyesore, and you’d taken to decorating your quarters with a pop of vibrancy.

Drying off, you rid yourself of slick skin, finding some relief afterwards, crawling into one of Bob’s sweaters and your pajama shorts. It smells like him — parchment and sandalwood, hints of vanilla that you’ve rubbed off on him, the scent of home.

As you clean up, you nudge the door open, letting billowing steam drift into your bedroom, releasing the caged heat. Bare feet cross the threshold into your quarters, bed barely made, but everything else seems rather organized.

A golden sunset crests upon the horizon of the New York cityscape, visible from your window, bulletproof glass tinted to banish any onlookers. Waning rays of orange pool through, glittering over your quarters, catching flecks of dust.

With a huff, you collapse along your bed, mattress foamy, downy to cushion your battered body. Tension unfurls from you in one wave, bleeding out as you allow yourself to relax, cradled within the comforts of home.

Gentle raps at the door ensnare your attention, and from pattern alone, you know who it is.

“It’s open.” You call, perched along the edge of your mattress, index finger drawing slow circles around the sheets. The door panel slides open with a soft whirring, a momentary hum that fades away.

Bob is constantly anxious to see you, especially after a mission, gaze glittering with ardor, a sentiment as gentle as springtime, a warmth that extends into his features.

He’s in loungewear, plaid pajama pants with a mismatched sweater, brunette tresses a touch disheveled. There isn’t a need for him to ask to come inside — your relationship dissolved those barriers long ago.

“Hi.” His greeting is soothing, nervousness placated by your smile, a pearlescent, sparkling thing of beauty. The fumbling, awkward tension has evaporated between the both of you, making room for affection, for the feelings you openly share.

Slipping from your bed, your feet carry you with a sudden haste, arms slithering around his middle, hugging him as if he’d slip through your fingers. He’s warm, his own sun, an everlasting plane of heat that thaws your bones.

Beneath the collar of your sweater, Bob notices the cut there, brows creasing together. With every mission you complete, his worry grows, and the thought of you being injured is a discomforting one.

Despite the tenderness of your flesh, it doesn’t take an ounce of coaxing for Bob to reciprocate your hug, arms caging you in against him, cheek nestled atop your crown. You’re damp, but he’s unperturbed, cradling you close.

His embrace feels like home, comfortable and easy, a sanctuary that the two of you have forged together. He holds you as if he might lose you too, body curling around yours, able to hear the excitable tick of your breath.

Bob’s hands idly caress over your waist, over your spine, able to hear the audible exhale of relief that slips through your nose. Hands smooth wherever he can reach, reverent, each embrace always echoing with affection.

There’s a hush that falls between, a solemn silence that shatters when your voice hums against his chest. “I missed you,” You murmur, adjusting your head enough to stare at him, lips curling into a smile. “Missed you a lot.”

Bob preens at the softness of your confession, hand dragging along your spine until it shifts to cup your jaw. “I missed you too, so much,” He missed you terribly, gaze oozing with affection. “Are you hurt?” Through furrowed brows, he gestures to the cut lingering near your collar.

“Scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious,” Reassuring, you tilt forward, absorbing the heat that radiates from him, basking within it. “It was relatively routine for a mission.” You hum, feeling his lips press against your temples.

Affection is something he lavishes you in freely, though you pamper him enough, Bob knows when to take care of you, too. Dark blues shift to admire you, finding you to be so beautiful, the light of his life, sun piercing a veil of cloud.

He’s still somewhat shy whenever you become heated, dancing around the fringes of intimacy, getting close but not fully there. You don’t mind, content to take it as slow as he wanted, but there’s always a flicker of want that stirs within your chest.

“I’ll take care of you,” Bob murmurs, and the sentiment makes you preen with warmth. He’s good, the epitome of a devoted partner, the river you’re wading through. “I—If you want me to.” He clarifies, sheepish.

You’re often the one taking care of him, a role that you’ve seamlessly melded into without complaint. It’s never perturbed you, never crossed your mind that the roles could reverse for once, but you don’t want him to feel obligated.

He wants to, more than anything — you’re good to one another, ardor all-encompassing, and Bob is eager to let you settle, let him dote on you.

“I want you to,” Hands slip from spine to abdomen, palms flush against his ribs. “You’re never obligated, though.” Despite the gentle reminder, Bob nods, brown tresses stirring with each jostle of his head.

“I know, I just … You mean everything to me,” Bob sighs, allowing sentiment to blossom, flourish within the heat of your shared affections. He loves you, loves you gently, kindly — loves you more than anything else. “I want to.”

There is something wonderfully uncomplicated about the way he loves you, unconditional; judgment is nonexistent, and so is the fear of falling. Owlish hues bore into you, as if searching for your heart, but it’s on your sleeve, plain for him to see.

Fingers cradle your cheek, thumb lightly circling over the cut that’s settled along your jawbone, and you turn, lips kissing his palm. A stutter forms within his exhale, scarlet curling around his features, snaking toward his throat.

When he’d first met you in the underbelly of Valentina’s vault, he thought he’d seen an angel — you were aglow, framed by the hum of garish lights. He recalled your gaze, even now; kind and gentle, safeguarding him from harm.

It almost felt so long ago, seven months, but no amount of time with you was wasted, nor insignificant.

He’d grown in his healing journey, at a point to where things had become easier to manage, easier to navigate his trauma. Meditation and counseling were crucial, and sometimes you joined him, ensuring that he had support.

“You are so perfect, Bob,” Not perfect in the sense of ability or strength, but his heart — a tender thing, one that you had found your serenity in. His lips twitched into a smile, besotted, growing accustomed to hearing you say it. “How did I get so lucky?”

Lucky wasn’t a word he’d use, but he was working on his self-esteem, attempting to squash the malicious insecurities, the whispers of doubt. It was difficult to extinguish self-loathing, but he was making progress, day by day.

A keening chuckle slipped from his lips, followed by a glint of pearlescent teeth, perhaps a twinge of disbelief. “I ask myself that, too,” Bob confessed, fingertips grazing along your cheek, his touch loving, and never anything less. “Very lucky.”

Flattered, your nose crinkles slightly, digits smoothing over his sides as you tilt forward to press your chin against his chest. His physique is lean, cut muscle, stature taller than you, hovering above as he meets your gaze, seeping with affection.

Lashes flutter in their ardent appraisal of you, lips pressing against the bridge of your nose. For a man who holds the power of a thousand suns within his palm, he behaves shrewdly, as if his capabilities lie far beyond his reach.

“Little lower.” Through a velvety croon, you watch as Bob’s features burn with crimson, though he’s delighted to oblige you. His lips skim over your nose, finding your mouth with seamless ease, eagerness entangled with clumsiness.

His heartbeat climbs toward a quick rhythm, an excitable thrum that reverberates through his sternum, singing your name. Noses brush over one another, kisses often exploratory, slow — it makes for a sweeter experience.

In the brief seconds where lips part, he exhales, a warm sigh feathering over your visage, as if you’re absorbing the sun’s soft rays. Bob often overthinks whenever you’re physical, not of any fault of your own, he simply wants to be the best he can for you.

Even still, your presence soothed him, a wordless lullaby, ceasing his constant barrage of nerves. His hands are unhurried, mapping your body with familiarity, caressing until they’ve settled above your hips.

Thumbs circle patterns through the fleece of your sweater, his sweater, draped over your frame as the fabric brushes the middle of your thighs. Each kiss evokes a wave of yearning from you, soul to soul, wrapped up within his splendor.

Undaunted, Bob’s mouth melds with yours, two pieces seamlessly fitting together, hearts joined in-tandem. A furrow forms within his brow, that of concentration as he pours affection into his kisses, listening to the hitch in your breath.

Between parted lips, nudging aside to seize the air, your hands dance along his biceps, skirting lower, holding steadfastly to his forearms. “I love you.” You hum, three words that he never grows tired of hearing.

Bob said it first, a month ago — when it tumbled from his mouth, you thought he was teasing, or perhaps speaking out of-turn. His sincerity manifested in the form of tears and a wistful speech about how much he loved you.

You made it a point to tell him every day, heart growing warm with a muted buzz, an ardor that blossomed through your chest. He liked telling you how much he loved you, too; he had someone to protect, someone to cherish.

A warm, half-chuckle escapes him, the sound scratching pleasantly at the back of your mind. Still, his thoughts are shrouded by doubt, by a shadowy snarl that plagues him, taunting; Bob has gotten better at blocking it out.

Lips press sweetly to his jaw, beneath his eye, whatever you’re able to reach whilst stretching up upon your toes. Sunset stretches over his features, blanketing him in burnished orange, catching upon his dark blue hues.

“I love you too.” Bob murmurs, abashed by the doting affection you lavish him in, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Happiness wasn’t a prevalent theme in his life, but after he met you, it became a constant — he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Delighted, you crawl into bed, sprawled out upon your back, one arm tucked beneath your head. His sweater rides up along your hips, revealing the thin, cotton shorts that brush along your thighs.

Bob joins you, sitting criss-crossed at your side, tracing circles over your midriff. The soothing warmth of his touches makes your stomach surge with butterflies, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

“What are you thinking about?” A saccharine utterance slips past your lips, cadence tender as you tilt your head enough to peer up at him. Brunette tresses frame his face, chin bristling with a tiny hint of a growing stubble.

His mind is often a whirlwind — there’s plenty going on, from therapy and counseling to his own shadowed trauma, though his even days seem to eclipse the lows more often than not. Bob thinks about you the most, about your future together.

Sentry was supposed to be the pinnacle of good, the savior of citizens, the world’s mightiest hero; and part of him still wants it, to help, to be good. He wants to be a symbol of hope, of aspiration, of how brokenness can turn into something whole.

Though, with ascending the role, comes It, comes the darkness that haunts his silhouette, a penumbra of his innermost demons.

“A lot,” Bob confesses, noticing the twinge of perplexity that settles on your features. “Nothing bad, just … The future. Our future, my future.” He knows he can confide in you for anything — you’re his sanctuary.

“Our future?” Something hot snakes through your veins, an excitable heat that makes you preen. The fact that he’s given your relationship such consideration elates you.

“Yeah,” His timbre is soothing to you, a lower rumble that seeps into your bones, makes you feel entirely at-ease. “It’s the most optimistic I’ve felt about something in years.” Bob admits, digits nonchalantly toying with the hem of your sweater.

Reaching for his hand, you caress his knuckles, fingers curling around his hand, flesh and blood, tethering you together. “Me too,” You smile, your heart nearly bursting from your chest with joy. “You might be stuck with me forever.”

Bob’s gaze is heartwarming, raw — the concept of being with you forever is more of a comfort, no inkling of despair or discontent. “I’d prefer it that way.” He utters, voice barely hovering above a whisper.

Fingers squeeze together, and the beam you give him elicits another blush, scarlet blanketing his countenance, as warm as an open flame. He presses a hand against his chin, somewhat reeling with disbelief; he never thought he’d have this again.

“What about your future?” Feather-light, your tone is inquiring yet tranquil, noninvasive. With a soft groan, you manage to sit up, sweater ruffled around your middle. Bruises sit heavy within your muscle, soreness stretching throughout your body.

Leg-to-leg with him, you feel his fingertips circle over the top of your thigh, innocent instead of amorous. “With my powers and everything,” Bob murmurs, struck by a sudden wave of emotion. “I just — I want to help people, and I feel like I can’t.”

There’s a melancholy that swirls within his gaze, a thinly-veiled desperation to be useful, to safeguard — what good is he if he can’t even protect you? Tears prick at his eyes, glistening with a wet sheen as he attempts to blink them away.

Bob’s still working through the process of healing, but with that, he’s reluctant to use his powers. They’re there, he feels them — like waves before an earthquake, subdued yet powerful. He’s afraid of it all crashing down on him again, and you, the team.

“Bob, it’s only been a couple of months,” You soothe, hand caressing along his forearm. “Sometimes, the healing process can take a long time. I think you’ll still be able to help people — you help the team now, just as you are now.”

It’s reassuring, but he still feels a twinge of desolation, wanting to talk it through before it catalyzes into something worse. “I know, I just want to be useful. I want to be someone that people can look to for help.”

“You’ve no idea how useful and important you are, Bob,” In your eyes, he’s everything — he’s your heart. “If it weren’t for you, this team might not even exist. What we’ve built, the family we’ve become — it all started with you.”

He’s never looked at it that way, feeling a tear tumble down his cheek, one that he hastily wipes away with the sleeve of his sweater. You’re staring at him as if he’s moved mountains, the center of your universe, a sun whose light you stand within, even if it wanes.

Reassurance is something you’re good at; you’re soft for Bob, incredibly supportive, but you’ve never babied him. He doesn’t enjoy being viewed as helpless, and you’ve made sure that it’s never the case with your relationship.

Sweetly, your hands finds his again, lifting it to your lips as you press a kiss over his knuckles. Bob’s heart lurches, threatening to soar from his chest, mouth parting to make room for a tremulous exhale.

“I love you,” Bob murmurs, pearlescent teeth splitting through his forlorn expression like sunlight through a gray cloud. You have an extraordinary gift for knowing what to say, knowing how to keep him grounded. “I love you so much.”

Nothing short of genuine, he draws you closer, muscled arms caging around you in a hug that’s akin to a furnace. His temperature is inhumanly warm, often running hotter, but you’ve grown to adore it, especially on cold nights.

Without an inkling of hesitation, your arms slip around his middle, palms splayed beside his spine, rubbing his back in slow caresses. Bob finds solace in your embrace, as if you lessen the sting, rip his pain away and throw it elsewhere.

A pang of guilt follows when he realizes that he should be taking care of you, embarrassment settling onto his visage. “Sorry, I … I didn’t mean to make everything —” He stops when you shake your head back and forth.

“Don’t apologize, Bob. I want you to get things off of your chest, and your feelings are valid,” As if to cement your words, you plant a kiss against his cheek, still keeping an arm strewn over his midsection. “I’m always here for you.”

Melancholy and despair subside, and shadows dissipate with it, slithering away as they retreat from the corners of his mind. His chest expands with a shallow, concentrated inhale, breathing deep as he regains composure.

A comfortable silence lingers between, filling the void with affectionate smiles and longing glances, his hand tangled with yours. It’s a brief meditative state that he’s fixated on, something that he’d learned in therapy to manage negative thoughts.

You breathe with him; steady, lungs inflated with crisp air, stretched before you exhale. The process repeats itself, tangled together within the hush of your quarters, blood-orange sunlight twinkling through, turning his brown tresses to caramel.

Bob’s stare is fixated on you, as if he’s glimpsed something beautiful for the very first time, doe-eyed and yearning. He’s been teased for it before, but in the privacy of your bedroom, he’s unabashedly in love with you — no veil conceals his affections.

Melting beneath his gaze, you offer him a gentle smile, as if he’s kissed by summertime, lost within a world of warmth. Bob smiles too, canting forward, lower until his forehead brushes over yours.

Noses graze over one another, a subtle invitation for a kiss, which he initiates this time. He’s often riddled with nerves, but they seem quiet now, and the hush is comforting.

Lips meld together, seamless, and you’re floating, hands shifting to gather at the nape of his neck, carding through his hair. He’s exceedingly gentle, heart bleeding into your mouth, devoted — and you begin to lean backwards.

As you lower yourself down, back flush to pressed sheets and a thin comforter, Bob follows, one leg nestled between yours. Shrouding you with his body, the kiss resumes as if it hadn’t been broken to begin with, and he tastes of ardor.

Hands splay on either side of your head, sweater billowing from his musculature, offering you a glimpse of his abdomen. The serum had altered his physicality drastically — Bob sometimes didn’t recognize his own skin when he looked in the mirror.

He’d grown accustomed to it though, the muscle, the durability, inhuman stamina — exhaustion didn’t feel the same as it used to. Each kiss seems to elongate, mouths barely inching away from one another, entanglement crackling with embers.

When your mouth begins to still, gathering wisps of air to fuel your lungs, Bob’s tresses hang down, tickling your cheeks. “Hey.” You giggle, nose wrinkling slightly as you pull a laugh from his chest, body quaking above you.

“Hi,” Bob whispers, fingers reaching to caress over your cheek, extending into your hairline as he clears his throat. “You’re so pretty.” His murmur is low, a touch husky, stomach churning with butterflies as he shifts, leg ghosting over your core.

A subtle shiver grips your spine, lips parting as a sigh inhabits your throat, preening in the wake of his sweet compliment. “Yeah?” Swallowing the slight lump within your throat, your hand reaches to cup his cheek, thumbing across his jaw.

It’s present, the tension; a familiar burning that seems to crawl between bodies, amorous and wanton, lacking the hunger of lust. It’s thirst he feels, as if you’re a body of water, the lifeblood he needs to survive, to exist.

Bob exhales, warmth feathering over your features, the noise wrought with exhilaration. There’s a swell of sentiment dancing within his eyes, an amalgamation of adoration and something more.

Dipping lower once more, his lips brush over yours, missing by a mere inch, teeth dryly clicking together, eliciting a laugh from you. It’s bubbly, bright; he murmurs an apology, sheepish, but you’re drawing him back in.

Kissing him feels effortless, no expectation of performance, anxiety having bled away into nothingness.

It’s comforting, allowing your vulnerability to show, heart on your sleeve for him. Soft digits trace over his nape, other hand splayed flat against his shoulder blade.

Sunlight drains from the skies, the atmosphere infused with shades of mauve, an inky-black chasing after it. The orange glow dissipates from your bedroom, and with the coming of nighttime, the nightlight above your headboard flickers on.

Legs tangle within one another, a knot of limbs as he kisses you with such compassion, perhaps a twinge of something fervent. It’s as if he wants something, afraid to ask for it — there’s a hint of restraint in his kiss, even still.

“Are you okay?” A soft murmur echoes against his mouth when lips fleetingly draw apart, prompting another owlish stare from him. He’s flushed, thinking about you — everything he wants, pent-up in some knot.

“Yeah, I just — I love you.” Bob blurts in an effort to distract from what he’s really contemplating, turning over his desires in his mind, his incessant yearning. His lips twitch into a smile, one that’s still dancing with nerves.

“I love you too,” With a whisper, your fingers drift to sweep brunette tresses away from his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Bob?” You prompt, noticing his growing embarrassment when you pose the question.

Bob swallows again, flustered, but he decides to come clean about how he’s feeling. “You,” Spoken through a low, pleasant husk, it turns your stomach, bones lurching with butterflies. “I want to be with you, but I … I haven’t done anything in a long time.”

You know what he’s referring to without elaboration, feeling a pang of anticipation twirl within your belly. A brief exhale parts your lips, warmth spreading over your flesh. “That’s okay,” You assure, hand tracing his jaw. “I haven’t, either.”

You’ve been intimate before, in smaller steps — touching one another, half-undressed, sighing names into kiss-swollen lips. This is different, this is more; but you want him, want to give him everything that you can.

His past experiences were often muddled by drug-use, a haze of limbs that felt meaningless, something to extinguish the isolation. This was love, adoration — with you, things were different; each touch meant something.

Bob seems somewhat reassured, shoulders lighter, visage no longer wrought with stress. He relaxes, still poised above you, wondering how to start, how to naturally progress into the next step.

It’s you who closes the gap and initiates, lips softly tangling with his own. Passion festers, an active participant the more your mouths meld together, seamlessly molding to one another.

A soft groan echoes within his throat, swallowed by your mouth as lips clamor. You’re everything, everywhere; his heart beats a rhythm that only you seem to understand, fingers treading toward the hem of his sweater.

Each kiss was bruising, tender — wrought with such adoration that it made your belly pulse with a familiar heat. Exhilarated, your hand continued to caress over his muscles, dancing along his abdomen.

Heat radiates from him, as if he’s his own splendid sun, warm to the touch. You treat him so well, especially when intimacy arose, ensuring that he was always taken care of — Bob wants to return the favor tenfold.

With gentle coaxing, you begin to sit up, guiding him toward the pillows, letting him sit as you politely crawl into his lap. Thighs pin against his hips on either side, a pliant cage, feeling Bob’s hands shyly trace over your legs.

Mesmerized is a mere understatement; he’s bewitched, gazing at you as if you’ve moved mountains, doe-eyed and wanton. Love oozes from every fiber of his being, and you can taste it in his kiss when his mouth meets yours again.

Bob’s throat jostles as he swallows, exhilaration tangled with enthusiasm welling up inside of him. It seems to squash his initial anxiousness about it all, but only slightly. He feels your fingers card through his tresses, unable to his smitten expression.

The hem of your sweater, his sweater, ghosts over his fingertips, prompting him to take a gentle fistful of the woolen fabric. “May I?” Bob always asks — it’s the same sweeter cadence accompanied by a longing look.

With a nod, you lift your arms, stifling a laugh when the collar momentarily snags on your chin, gooseflesh clinging to your spine as the garment is removed. He sets it aside, a scarlet pallor invading his features; you aren’t wearing anything underneath.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bob is constantly awestruck by you, as if he’s seeing your body for the first time all over again. He feels fortunate then, fortunate now; he wants you to have all of him. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His low, husky compliment makes your bones lurch, shivering in spite of his praise, your hands searching for the hem of his sweater. “You’re so sweet to me.” You murmur, gaze roving over his countenance, prompting him to sigh with elation.

Bob smiles, scarlet-faced as he moves to cradle your jaw. He’s relaxed, more excitable than nervous, stomach still coiled into an excitable, anxious knot, flesh bristling as he kisses you again.

Bodies twine together, and you’re slotted in his lap, hips occasionally urging against his own. There’s friction present, hot and familiar; he’s infatuated by the sensation. He feels your hand drag from his torso to chest, hovering over his heart.

Between tender kisses, hands fumble together, working in-tandem to peel his sweater away, musculature firm beneath your palms. His physique is godlike; sturdy, muscled, impenetrable.

Mouths became immersed in a mutual heat, a dance of hearts — you succumb so very quickly to it all, one hand clamoring to hold fast against his nape. Bob is easily vexed, flustered as his hands gently settle against your hips.

Fingertips trace circles over your waist, lips slow and passionate, savoring every sweet entanglement as if it might be your last. Bob withdraws, only to kiss your jaw, mouth climbing along your throat as it elicits a soft moan from you.

Arousal warms between your thighs, belly rolling into taut coils of excitement, bodies flush, the space between all but nonexistent. He’s considerate, layering your neck in kisses, no inch of flesh safe from his mouth as he finds your collar.

“Bob.” A moan is pulled from your throat, pitched with anticipation, your hand beginning to trail through his tresses. His arms cage you in, holding firm as he plants needy, wanton kisses over your chest.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes, softer, kind — he seems happy, less anxious than usual. His confidence is still shaky, leaning upon a cracked foundation, but there’s a progression in his self-esteem.

The heavy worry of disappointing you lingers still, a small constant within the back of his mind, but he pushes it aside as best he can. Bob continues to pepper kisses over your flesh, wherever he can reach, ending with your lips.

Tender hands roam his musculature, caressing him, ensuring that he’s doted upon. A warm scarlet invades his features, creeping over his skin like that of fire, stirring up inklings of arousal.

When Bob draws away, it’s to smile at you, predominantly sheepish, a boyish expression that oozes ardor. It’s his typical beam, one that you’ve grown to adore, pressing a chaste kiss to his brow, and then the corner of his mouth.

“I want to try something,” Bob murmurs, flushed at the mere fantasy of it. “If that’s alright.” Despite his lack of clarification, you are too curious for your own good, stomach churning with an excited anticipation.

“Of course,” Gooseflesh rakes over your spine when his fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, more assurance layered into his touch. Bob is still rather subservient, but he’s gotten better with initiating, too. “Want them off?”

Blushing, Bob’s head jostles in an eager nod, watching as you slip off of his lap in order to wriggle out of your shorts, socks coming with it. It leaves you in your panties, and you realize that this is the most exposed you’ve been.

With your back angled to him, his brows crease when he finds the scattered cuts laced into your flesh, the discoloration of skin. Wordlessly, he crawls closer, pressing a soft kiss to your spine.

The sensation makes you shiver, lips parting as a gasp splits through, feeling the warmth of his mouth kiss over a cut beneath your shoulder blade. Your body tingles with a pleasant ebbing, and you melt back into him.

Owlish hues bore into you, tracing along your form with a thinly-veiled appreciation, adoring, more like. Bob lets his back kiss the mattress, mussed tresses disheveled against the pillow, feeling you climb back into his lap.

Bending to kiss him, chests flush together, you feel his hands splay out along the small of your back, stroking your skin. Lips clamor together in another passionate collision, enough to draw a low groan from Bob’s throat.

His hands begin to drift lower, from the plush curve of your waist to your backside, gingerly kneading into the pliant flesh. He is cautious, painstakingly gentle as he lavishes kiss after kiss to your wanting lips.

It’s sweet, the way he touches you — always gentle, always loving. He marvels at you each time you part, as if he’s seeing you for the first time again, visibly enchanted. “You’re so pretty.” Bob murmurs, palm taut against your haunch.

“You are too — you’re perfect.” You whisper, managing a smitten smile as he huffs a light chuckle, fingertips brushing around the hem of your panties. He swallows thickly, as if silently asking for you to remove those, too.

With a nod, the exchange is left unspoken, but you understand what he wants through gaze alone. Your heart thrums violently beneath your breast, breath hitching within your throat as he helps you squirm from your underwear.

He’s getting nervous again, attempting to swallow it down as he appraises you in your entirety, awestruck. Bob’s hands relocate to your thighs, holding steadfastly to either, thumbs stroking circles into your delicate flesh.

Coaxing you closer, he inches you away from his lap, towards his chest; realization hits you, then. Before you can interject, Bob shakes his head back and forth, visibly flustered.

“I want to,” Insistent, his cadence oozed with warmth, a tranquility that eased your sudden bout of nerves. The both of you were anxious, wanting to expel that energy into one another. “I—I want to take care of you.” Bob murmurs, lips twitching into a placating smile.

Swallowing the lump within your throat, you’re abashed to confess that you want this terribly, palms steady against his shoulders. Even then, he’s holding you effortlessly, gazing up at you as if you’re the celestials themselves.

Bob doesn’t shy away, patient as ever, continuing to caress over your thighs. He’s done this before, a long time ago — it feels like some nonexistent memory, or one that he conjured up, but it’s there. His smile lingers, adoring, allowing you to move whenever you choose to.

“If you want to stop, just tap my thigh.” You murmur, belly churning with fire. You’ve never let someone do this to you before, but you trust Bob completely. He nods, waiting expectantly, unable to mask his growing excitement.

Shy, you inch forward, legs trembling beneath his touch as he gingerly nudges you closer, knees planted on either side of his head. Everything spins, the room spins, and you’re trying to steady yourself when his mouth warms your cunt.

Lips flush against your inner thigh, brief, drawing a shudder from your spine, feeling his mouth climb to the warmth oozing between your legs. His tongue raked embers across your cunt, nearly ripping the air from your lungs.

His ministrations are agonizingly gentle, rapturous, as if he might hurt you with enough pressure. Bob keens when you moan, the noise smothered within your throat as you try to keep from being too loud.

The tip of his nose brushes along your petals, tongue splitting deeper still, until he sluggishly laps at your core. Your taste permeates his mouth, a bittersweet ambrosia that draws him into some lovestruck haze.

“B—Bob,” His ministrations are wholly unexpected, thighs shaking, belly twisting into a heated coil as you press a palm against the wall. The other flies to the brunette crown nestled contentedly between your thighs. “Bob!” You squeak.

A myriad of moans shake your chest, fluttering through your diaphragm and into the cool air. The ministrations of his tongue are too good, as if this skill is something he’s practiced for some time.

Below, Bob is flushed, scarlet clinging to his features as he pleasures you, unperturbed by the lewd act. He loves it, and it’s making him squirm with how receptive you are to it, cock aching with a ceaseless throbbing.

The coil of taut heat within your stomach seems to tighten as Bob greedily laps at your cunt, like that of a man starved. A sharp groan blossoms throughout his sternum as you incessantly tug upon his curls, urging him closer.

Your hips accidentally jolt forward, and you sputter a swift apology, body feverishly hot as you attempt to regain your balance. Bob’s hands are holding steadfastly to your hips, caressing and molding to your curves.

Admittedly, he’s finding pleasure in this, wanting to seek some relief for himself, but he’s too absorbed in you, in all of you. The taste of your cunt permeates his tongue, and he wants more, lapping at your core as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

A tremor gripped your thighs, twitching around his head as your hips lurched forward. The friction that simmers between you both is more than enough to keep him wanting, chest reverberating with a myriad of throaty groans.

“G—God, you’re so good at this,” There is a noticeable pitch within your voice, higher, wrought with ecstasy. You’re moaning his name as if it’s some desperate prayer, a confession spilling from your tongue. “Please don’t stop.”

Bob groans again at the sensation of your fingers dragging through his hair, the feeling incredibly pleasant, mouth buried against your cunt. He kisses along your slit, gesture mingling with soft, passionate laps of his tongue.

It is then that he seeks the pearl of your cunt, pressing a string of wanton kisses to the sensitive clutch of nerves. A shiver of delight grips your spine, throat erupting with a moan as your back begins to arch.

Vocal, a string of whimpered praise tumbles from your mouth, legs shaking like leaves beneath his palms. Bob wants to whine, and the sound of you moaning his name is enough to set his body ablaze, bleeding with a radiant heat.

His name rolls from your tongue with such reverence, enough to bring him to heel. Another broad stroke of his tongue laps across your cunt, gathering with it a slew of your arousal.

With a twist of his mouth, he moves to the pearl of your cunt once more, pliant maw wrapping around it, stimulating you with his suckling. Everything feels fuzzy, as if you’re trapped in some white-hot haze, ecstasy burning through your bones.

Bob holds you aloft with an effortless strength, hands still smoothing over your thighs, caressing your warm flesh. Each brief urge of your hips into his mouth sends him reeling, wanting to be good for you, pleasure you in the way you deserve.

A rush of white-hot delight sears your bones, blanketing you in a wave of pleasure, stomach swirling with a violent heat. Dizzy from such overwhelming arousal, your body began to furl, a coil of heat pulled taut within your belly.

Again, he traveled to your clit, gently suckling upon the bundle of nerves. Your poor thighs rattled on either side of his head, twitching with throes of ecstasy as he toyed with your pearl.

In this state, you weren’t going to last much longer, crumbling through his fingertips as your release slammed into you with such intensity. Bob sighed into your core, content to stay there for an eternity if you allowed him to.

Slowly, you unraveled, having to ground yourself to any shred of composure, throat wracked with a choked sob. The coil of taut heat snapped violently, giving way to an overwhelming release, a white-hot tide of bliss.

His name rolled from your tongue several times over, spoken lovingly, body trembling from the blissful aftershocks. Admittedly, your thighs weren’t up to the challenge either, muscles burning as you stilled above him.

Even still, he unknowingly works you through your release, gently lapping over your cunt, the gestures feather-light. A neediness festers within him, still treating you to little jolts of pleasure in the aftermath.

Lungs expand and deflate with swift, shallow sighs, clawing for composure. Bob breaths with you, labored yet exhilarated, cheeks tinged with a permanent shade of pink. Lips seal themselves along your thighs, peppering over your soft skin.

Inching backward, you neatly untangle yourself from him, slotted within his lap again, flustered when you catch the glistening sheen of slick on his mouth. He seems elated, happy; it’s satisfying to know that he didn’t disappoint you with his ministrations.

“Was that good?” Bob inquires, brunette tresses disheveled, an earthy halo that forms around his visage. He sits up, propped back against one arm, musculature catching upon the dim illumination that spreads through your bedroom.

“That was amazing,” Admittedly, you are surprised by how vigorous he was with it, as if his shyness had been momentarily stripped away. He politely wipes his chin off with the heel of his palm, his smile doting. “You’re amazing.”

In the afterglow, your thighs continue to twitch, spiraling down from your orgasm as you trace your fingers across his abdomen. Bob is blushing, gaze half-lidded and adoring, though it’s fleeting when you shift atop his lap.

Something firm pulses against your backside, and you watch him writhe, neck taut with strain as he tries to alleviate some of the friction. “S—Sorry,” He fumbles, withholding a husky groan. “You’re so pretty.” His murmur makes you flustered.

“Don’t be,” You assure, heart nearly beating from your chest as gazes linger on one another, oozing with a thinly-veiled affection. “I love you so much, Bob.” The words are enough to make him shiver, hand shifting toward your hip.

Bob preens beneath your soft declaration, adjusting his position, erection shuffling against you once more. He’s nearly bursting at the seams, wanting to be inside of you, feel your body against his, listen to your heartbeat.

In a soft entanglement, you kiss him, able to taste yourself upon his tongue. He’s delicate, each caress, each touch born of adoration for you. Everything slows to a momentary crawl as your hands shift toward his pants.

“I love you,” Bob murmurs, as if it’s something sacred, a hush between old lovers. He shifts, breath hitching when your fingers skim along the waistband of his pajamas pants. “I want you.” He says it reverently, making you shiver.

There is something mildly assertive within his tone, as if he’s gaining a bit of confidence, hands caressing circles into your hips. His head jostles in an acknowledging nod, allowing you to take it further, prying fabric aside.

That is when you feel it, the proof of his arousal pressing into your lower belly, oozing with precum as he slowly ruts his hips into you. Bob shivers, flushed as he writhes, desperate to be inside of you.

To your surprise, he’s painfully well-endowed, a fact that he is acutely aware of. Your pupils expand, attempting to smother your twinge of nervousness, gaze fluttering elsewhere.

A sharp moan blossoms throughout your diaphragm, palms gathering at the nape of his neck as you coax him in for a searing kiss. Lips move in a tender dance, arousal coalescing between your legs.

A groan rippled through his throat, escaping into twined mouths as you moved against his erection, enough to nearly make him sputter. His lungs burn with want, needing you as one needed air.

Bob’s desperation bleeds into you with a blinding intensity, so poignant and so palpable that it makes your knees buckle. He can’t remember the last time he’d done something like this, and even then, he only wants to remember you.

“Are you sure?” His whisper is gentle, a strained timbre that sends shivers down your spine. Through kisses and the exhales between, he wants to make sure that you’re certain, as if you might change your mind.

Pressing another lingering kiss to his mouth, you answer with assurance. “Yes,” You sigh, lips curling into a gentle, placating smile. “More sure than I’ve ever been.” With that, Bob seems to relax, his breathing heavier, heady as you begin to shift.

Wandering hands smooth themselves over the swell of your hips, clutching at the pliant flesh, his erection pressing against your thigh. A sharp inhale passes through him as you gently adjust yourself, comfortable within his lap.

A taut coil of heat pulls tightly within his abdomen, making him squirm, a familiar heat licking over his flesh as the flushed tip prods against your cunt. He’s trying not to combust, afraid it all might be a short-lived affair.

Sluggishly, you sink yourself onto his cock, drawing a moan from your diaphragm and a breathy groan from his. Bob feels your forehead, flush to his own, hot breath pluming over his features as you continue downward.

The sensation of your hands skimming over his collar is intoxicating, eliciting another half-whimper from his throat. He clings steadfastly to your hips, thumbs tracing shaky circles into your skin as you allow the both of you time to adjust.

Your fingers thread into his hair, and he attempts to stifle a groan, eyes pleasantly half-lidded as your hips shift slightly. Everything hums, a muted buzz thrumming through his body, bliss warping into the fringes of ecstasy.

Scarlet paints his features, skin flushed with crimson, body brimming with pleasure; you’ve barely moved yet. His hands cradle you even still, and as you begin to move, he’s gentle in his assistance, holding you aloft.

“Bob,” You moan his name, dragging your hips up halfway before sinking down again, a push-and-pull that makes your muscles burn with exertion. Lips pepper themselves to his jaw, and you feel his grip tighten through trembling digits. “You feel so perfect.”

A myriad of throaty groans escaped him as you began to move, hips rocking forward, disarmingly gentle and sluggish. It was a perfect storm of sensations, between your hand in his tresses, lips beginning to trail toward his throat.

Your cunt clenched pathetically, snug around his length as you continued to ride him, his cock bottoming out within you. Bob moaned, arms caging you in as you showered his neck in kisses, body vibrating beneath you.

“Please,” He huffed, continuing to caress along your thighs, digits clamping down whenever your hips lifted and lowered. Bob knew he wasn’t going to make it very long like this, cock aching for release. “D—Don’t stop.”

Everything felt so raw and sensitive, nerves set ablaze, arousal gripping him tightly as you continued to ride his cock, ensuring that you were still gentle. Your pace never became rough, nor demanding.

He thoroughly enjoyed watching you move, cautious and mindful of him, lips agape and visage one of sheer bliss. Sighs of passion tangled together, hot and fervent, breathing in the sweet air of one another.

Prying your mouth away from his throat, he’s moving in for a kiss, whimpering when your hips fall flush against his, cock buried inside of you. The pleasure is almost overwhelming for him, enhanced by you, by how much he loves you.

His name feathers from your mouth like a sacrilegious oath, repetitive, ensuring that he knows how good he makes you feel. The remnants of your previous orgasm still cling to you, thighs shaking like leaves.

Bob kisses you as if you might slip through his fingers at any given moment, unable to fully commit through wanton groans. His chest burns with a string of needy sighs, holding you tightly, feeling your skin flush against his.

Neither of you would last long in this state — him, in particular. He was dizzy, rendered stupefied by such wanton desire, his cock throbbing inside of you with an incessant need.

Drowning within ecstasy, Bob knew that he couldn’t cling to restraint any longer, seeing stars, body oozing with heat. His digits gripped you tightly, a choked groan emerging into the hollow between your throat and shoulder.

It only took one more roll of your hips for him to fall apart completely, in shambles beneath you, cum spilling inside of you. The rush of warmth soon flooded your insides, his spend sticky between your thighs.

Bob was shaking, groaning your name, embarrassed that it all seemed to end so abruptly, but he hadn’t done it in years — it would take some adjusting.

Foreheads pressed together, lips soon finding one another, disarmingly gentle as he allowed one palm to cup your cheek. His thumb danced over your jaw, the gesture unusually sweet as your hips began to slow to a mere crawl.

“Are you okay?” Gentle, you pressed a kiss to his brow, feeling him tremble beneath you, an amalgamation of heat and limbs. Bob nodded, swallowing thickly as he felt you move from his lap.

“Yeah.” Bob’s lips twitched into a smile, feeling content in the afterglow, less pent-up. His limbs felt like molten liquid, body recovering from the vast amount of pleasure he experienced.

In the solace that followed, his feet carried him over cold marble, clamoring into your bathroom, retrieving a glass of water. His stamina remained entirely intact, superhuman — the same couldn’t be said for you.

Retrieving his sweater, your tepid skin writhes into the wool despite the perspiration, finding your underwear, thighs shaking as you pull them back on. Bob returns, half-dressed, his throat flushed where your mouth had been moments prior.

Lounging along the corner of your mattress, your features warm when he steps closer, smile sheepish. “Here.” He hums, a low, blissful sound that strips away your tension, coming to sit beside you.

With several greedy swigs of water, you’re beginning to climb down from your peak, nudging the glass onto your nightstand. It’s an unspoken thing as Bob holds you, the both of you a tangle of bodies, laying down together.

“Was that good?” Bob asks again, soft, nervous that it might’ve been too quick for you. Your head presses to his collarbone, fingertips tracing indecipherable patterns into his skin.

“It was perfect,” Pleasant tingles flow through your body, soothed by his palm, caressing circles over the small of your back. “You are perfect.” The sweetness of your cadence makes his breath hitch, lips smoothing over your forehead.

A smile seems glued to your face, no disappearing in-sight, feeling his heart stutter underneath your cheek. It’s hushed, but it’s comfortable, merely basking in the presence of one another, and he’s still reeling from the whole ordeal.

Bob smiles, doe-eyed, gazing at you as if you’re the sun, his center of gravity. Keeping one arm around you, as if to shield you, the other continues to caress along your sweater-clad frame.

“I love you.” He utters, brows furrowing as if he’s swearing an oath to you, bodies leaving no trace of space, legs tangling together. As Bob holds you close, you’re almost drifting, eyes growing heavy as you cling to him.

You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

[ilikeevilblondes]

Lazy Mornings

18+ MDNI!

Summary: You and Joel don't have to be anywhere anytime soon.

W.C: ~1.8k

Warnings: husband!joel x f!reader. unprotected p-in-v, praise!, soft!joel, no specified ages, morning sex, lotta fluff, eww corny coupley shit, (post-jackson era!)

Note: still in denial about ep 2... also, surprise! guess who broke free from her exam hiatus to churn this out in one afternoon sesh @whaddupbaby

The early morning sun peeked through the sheer linen of the curtains, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. There was no birdsong, no familiar hustle and bustle of Jackson’s populace, nothing beyond the peaceful stillness of the room. 

As far as you were concerned, there was only you and Joel.

Your back was against his bare chest, his broad frame encompassing you from behind as you lay on your side, limbs tangled together like crawling ivy.

His mouth skittered down your neck, lips tenderly pressing unspoken ‘I love you’s into your skin, branding you with his touch.

“No patrol today?” You mused sleepily, baring more of your neck for him.

“Mm-mm.” Joel hummed in response, breathing you in and gently tracing indistinguishable, lazy shapes on your hip. He pressed a final kiss to your shoulder before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His words were warm against your cheek. “I’d rather spend a few hours with my wife.”

You smiled. “Lucky woman.” 

“Her husband’s even luckier.” He drawled, his rich, Texan accent reintroducing itself in a deep rumble the way it did only when he was half-awake.

“Somehow I doubt that.” 

“You always gotta put up a fight, don’t you, Mrs Miller?” Joel chuckled, kissing your cheek.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in check, Mr Miller.” You turned your head to meet his gaze.

And meet his gaze, you did. Two pools of deep brown stared back at you, steady, molten, and impossibly soft. Something about the way Joel looked at you made the world slow to a hush, as if the morning itself had bent to its knees, reverent to the quiet worship in his eyes.

It wasn’t just love. It was a kind of knowing—like he was memorising you in real time, committing the curve of your smile, the crinkle of your eyes, the sound of your breath to some sacred, secret archive he was happy to hold the only key to. 

“Believe me, ma’am, I am putty in the palm of your hand.” His voice was low and gentle.

“You big flirt.” 

Joel only smiled, slow and sleepy, like he had all the time in the world to love you, and no intention of ever stopping.

You brought a hand to cup his face, caressing his cheek and feeling the roughness of his grey-streaked stubble under the pad of your thumb.

And he took your hand, your fingers dwarfed in his, and pressed the softest of kisses to your knuckles.

“Guilty as charged,” He smiled widely.

You rolled your eyes, but failed to bite back a similarly wide smile threatening to form on your lips.

“Since you don’t have patrol, does that mean we get a few hours to ourselves?”

“Mhm.” Joel sighed, releasing your hand to run his hand along your side. “Why? Got something in mind, sweetheart?”

The half-hard state of his cock against the small of your back informed you that he already knew the answer to his own question.

You, nonetheless, entertained him.

“Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’, huh? Care to elaborate?” 

“What are you, a cop?”

Joel laughed and slid his hand down to your thigh, gently hitching your leg above his hip, opening you up for him.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re really bad at dirty talk?” He hummed in between trailing his lips along your shoulder, and slowly glided his hand down your front, below your navel, dipping under the waistband of your underwear just shy of where you were aching to feel the thickness of his fingers.

“You want me to try again?”

“Be my guest, sweets.”

You placed a hand over his, interlocking your fingers and sliding it down, down, down… 

A low, almost inaudible moan escaped from his throat once he felt your puffy folds and the slick pooling from your aching cunt.

“I’m currently blanking on a witty one-liner, but I just really want you to fuck me silly.”

A murmured ‘fuck’ escaped his lips and he instinctively bucked his clothed hard-on against you.

Breathily, “yeah, I think I can do that.”

And that was how Joel ended up fucking you sideways at eight in the morning on a random Sunday.

One hand tilted your jaw up so he could suck at your pulse point as his cock lazily drove in and out of your weeping mound, held captive by his grip on your thigh splayed over his hips.

It was a good thing you were already dripping for him, because he held no patience for foreplay and endeavoured solely to feel your cunt wrapped around him. Usually, he’d take his time stretching you open with his fingers, but, fortunately, you were able to take all eight inches of him in nearly one thrust from the almost shameful amount of arousal you had collected.

Even more fortunately for you, an hour and a bit later, your godsend of a husband had managed to work four deliciously slow orgasms from you and showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

“Mmm, feel so good, baby.” He whispered against your jaw.

You whimpered at his snail-like pace. “Joel—” A strangled noise tore out of you.

A noncommittal sound came from him in reply.

“Faster. Please,”

“Sorry, sweets, no can do.” He tutted, sloppily pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin. “Wanna take my time with this pretty pussy.”

True to his word, Joel continued his almost painstakingly languid tempo.

He'd slowly drive in—all the way to the hilt, the coarse hairs at his base tickling your inner thighs. And then he’d pause to feel your drooling, velvety walls clench and flutter around him. And then he’d pull out so far you almost believed he’d dare to leave you bereft of his weeping, swollen head, before gradually feeding you his length and restarting his seemingly never-ending cycle.

All the while, he softly mumbled sweet nothings beside you, his warm breath fanning against your cheek.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well.”

“Can feel her stranglin’ me, baby. So fuckin’ tight.”

“That’s it. Oh, take it, gorgeous. Yeah, there you go.”

“Look so pretty full of my cock,”

You were overstimulated, to say the least.

All you could feel was him, behind you, steadily fucking into you. All you could smell was sex and Joel; pine and musk and Marlboro Reds. All you could hear was the low rumbles of his husky baritone, your own heartbeat thudding in your ears, the obscene sounds of his length re-sheathing itself in your very welcoming cunt.

Slowly, in and out. In and out. In and out.

Tears pooled in your eyes, but you didn’t notice. And even if you had, you wouldn’t have cared. 

With every leisurely thrust, his tip kissed your cervix, filling you with a familiar weight that felt like home. 

Joel was your home.

And that thought repeated over and over in your mind like a broken record as he continued fucking you like you both had all the time in the world.

Home, home, home.

“You feel so good,” You sighed.

“Yeah?” Joel slurred. “Fuck, baby. Never wanna leave this goddamn bed.”

Slowly, in and out.

In and out.

In response, you melted into him like butter on a warm dish, throwing an arm behind you to gently card through his salt and pepper curls.

Joel hummed and pressed a wet kiss to your temple before resting his chin on your shoulder, looking down at where you two were connected and letting out a low growl.

“You see that, baby?”

“Hm?” Your eyes fluttered, not registering anything except for the sensation of his big fucking cock.

Gently, Joel tilted your head downwards. 

“Look how well you take me, sweetheart.” He sighed, his face right beside yours, his eyes watching the same thing. “Look at how she’s just cryin’ for me.”

Fuck.

A creamy ring had formed around his base—no doubt a salacious mixture of his pre-come and your slick, as you had already come a mind-numbing amount of times. And there it went, disappearing into your puffy, drooling cunt over and over and over...

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, unconsciously clenching around him.

“Fuck,” Joel gritted his teeth and accidentally drove a bit too harshly into you, his cock dragging up your walls with a force he normally reserved for those special nights he’d fuck you like an animal in heat. 

That wasn’t his plan for this particular morning, but, as always, you had managed to make him lose control, if only for a second.

“Joel!” You wailed, throwing your head back.

Joel immediately shushed you. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry, s’was an accident. You’re alright, hm?” He kissed your head. “Gotta keep quiet, though. Ellie’s probably still asleep.”

You whimpered petulantly.

“My poor girl.” Joel laughed airily, then lowered his voice to coo in your ear. “Gonna give me one more?”

One more? Was he trying to kill you?

Evidently, you didn’t need to voice such a concern, as it was apparently written all over your face.

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” Joel hummed softly.

A sigh. And then, you mumbled a quiet ‘yes’.

"That's my girl."

Your husband’s warm, calloused hand came to your clit, rubbing sloppy semi-circles on the bundle of nerves until you cried out and fluttered wildly around him, your millionth orgasm of the morning washing over you like a tidal wave.

And he kept slowly fucking into you as you reached you high, and still, after. Your consciousness barely hung on by a thread, and, at the rate he was going, that thread was in danger of snapping.

Slowly, in and out. In and out.

“Joel, too—too much…”

“Shh, baby. C’mon, hold out for a little longer for me, I’m almost there.” Joel promised sweetly, pressing another kiss to your hairline. “Please, baby, just a little more.”

You heaved out a breath. A faint sigh of exhaustion, possibly one of protest.

“Just—shit, just a little more, ‘nd I’ll fill you up, hm? Fuck you nice and full…”

Joel was rambling now, his breath laboured, his eyebrows pinched in concentration, his eyes half-lidded and blurred with lust as he sawed up and out of you.

Slowly, in. Even slower, out.

Obediently, you nodded.

As promised, it took him a few more thrusts before he came with a gasp of your name, buried deep inside you—as deep as your walls would let him.

His pearly spend leaked out of your cunt (which was still stuffed full of him) as he planted kisses on every inch of skin his adoring mouth could reach.

“Did so good for me. My sweet girl,” He whispered, nudging the side of your face with his nose.

Hoarsely, you replied, “think you just about killed me.”

Joel laughed softly and carefully angled your head toward him. 

“C’mere,” He sighed, smiling.

And he tenderly slotted his lips against yours, tongue lazily slipping into your mouth and meeting your own.

And, draping a heavy arm across your waist, he pulled you closer against him, tangling his limbs with yours once more, and finding peace in the feeling of your body tucked into his.

And you both drifted into a warm, weightless sleep, letting the morning slip by. 

Because, in the quiet tangle of shared breath and steady heartbeats, nothing else mattered.

Because the two of you had all the time in the world to love each other.

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

[saltwaterburns]

Hi:)!! I love your writing, but just wondering if ya'd do some dick Grayson smut, like with the sex pollen stuff just making him all needy,

Fem reader? Even nb reader o_O?

Like ur real good at writing man^_^.

And I mean if you'd add some of your own kinks? I'd love to see him acting like an lil whiner it's cute in a way, feels so odd to ask lmfao please laugh LMFAO 💔..

pretty bird

Summary: Dick gets hit by a new Poison Ivy pollen, and there's only one way, or rather one person, to get it out of his system.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ SMUT - sex pollen but explicit consent is given, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, praise/degradation, sub!dick, biting (lmk if i missed any)

Author's note: The fact that this took me over 3 months to finish is embarrassing and I'm sorry and please don't hate me and fuck how I love bottom Dick. I also fear that you can kind of see my kind of worryingly high ao3 screen time in between the lines, because I am not ashamed to admit it that omegaverse is one of man's best creations. Enjoy !!!!! No beta we die like Jason (Todd and/or Grace)

Word count: 2,4k

You wake up with a jolt. Somewhere, a door slams shut, but the noise comes from someplace a lot closer than you'd like when living in Blüdhaven. A string of soft curses float through your apartment, something falls and breaks, and by then you’re sat up atop your mattress, reaching for the knife Dick always insists you keep nearby. It could be him, it probably is, but since when does your acrobat make this much noise when coming back home in the middle of the night?

Dick stumbles through the doorway, one of his hands resting on the wall, seemingly to keep him upright. The lights of the city that bleed in through your bedroom window illuminate his face, and you know instantly that he’s been hit with something, whether that's a gas or some pollen, you’re not sure. His skin is glowing under a sheen of sweat, his cheeks flushed pink. He growls in frustration when a strand of inky black hair falls on his face and he pushes it away with a bit more force than necessary, chest heaving up and down with short and shallow breaths. 

You push the blanket off your legs, ready to stand up and walk over to inspect him for any injuries, possibly force him to take a bath with you when a throaty whine makes you stop in your tracks. He shakes his head and you look at him with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion.

“Ivy hit us with a.. ah, a pollen. Bruce sent me home right after, but that was before…before the effects showed up.” He rests his head against the doorframe, eyes squeezed shut. He swipes his tongue over his lips, the pink muscle heavy in his mouth which went dry the second he spotted you on that bed, waiting for him.

“What effects, exactly?” You ask him, the little crease of displeasure between your brows that Dick has a habit of soothing over with his thumb making an appearance. You cross your arms on your chest, both to show off your worry and to protect your body from the chill of the bedroom. “Are you in pain?”

As if on cue, another wave of something hits him and he lets his head fall back, his Adam's apple bobbing before he lets out another one of his drawn out whines. The sight of him like that makes something turn inside your gut, a dull ache in between your legs making itself known. “In pain, yes. Just not in the way you might, fuck!..think.” He claws at his Nightwing suit, seemingly desperate to get it off his heated skin and that's when it clicks. Ivy, pollen, not letting you come near him, sweaty and flushed as if…

Dick Grayson is currently standing in the doorway to your room, desperate to get his dick inside you and fuck his brains out. 

The sheer absurdity of the situation almost has you barking out a laugh, but it dies down in your throat when a soft plea leaves his lips, now slick with spit, reddish pink from his teeth abusing the soft flesh.

"There isn't an antidote for this. Not yet, anyway. 'N I was wondering if you'd maybe, shit, help me uh, get it out of my system? If you'd want, of course. 'S all good if not, sweetheart. Not really sure it'd be safe for you if I can't really, ngh, control myself."

His eyes stay locked on you, the usually light hues of blue tinted dark as the flush on his skin deepens, the worst of the pollen only starting to take effect. You don't say anything, but instead take a few quick steps towards him and before he has a chance to open his mouth to protest, you cup his cheek with your hand, other one laying flat on his chest. His heart is practically vibrating inside his ribcage from the sheer speed of it beating but that quickly leaves your mind at the absolutely obscene sound that leaves Dicks mouth at the feeling of your skin against his. It's a sob of pure relief mixed with agony because somehow even more blood pools at his groin, making him harder than he has ever been in his life. He turns his head and nuzzles his face into the palm of your hand, his heated lips nipping at your skin like flames of fire.

You coo at him, moving your hand up so you can run your fingers through his hair, now curly from the moisture of his skin. You grab a handful and gently pull his head back, letting your lips leave a trail of open mouthed kisses all over his jaw. His mouth has fallen open, spewing out soft pants and incoherent sounds.

"Wait, wait, baby," he hiccups softly, pulling away from you. "Don't know if m'gonna be able to control myself. Promise me that you'll tell me to stop if it gets too much 'n if I don't listen you'll punch me in the face?"

"Promise, Dickie." You nod, letting your other hand fall down to rest on his waist. You can feel the muscles of his core flex at your touch, and you gently drag the tips of your fingers through the divots of them. His eyes never leave yours and he's looking at you so earnestly, so devotedly it makes you feel sick for a moment. It's as if you are a god, a divine creature who has seized his ability to think, to breathe, and who he needs to guide him, tell him how to do the simplest things in case he even dares to think about doing them in a way you dislike.

You pull him down into a kiss, one slow, sweet and earnest. He has your face cradled in his hands, not daring to let them wonder in case it gets him punished later on. You gently guide him backwards with you, pulling him along by his hip, until the back of your legs meet the edge of the bed, and you fall back on it, pulling him with you. It's as if a switch has been flicked - the once languid and adoring kiss now turned messy, needy, desperate. His mouth is hot as it parts against your lips, tongues brushing against each other in an erotic dance. He tastes sweet, he always has, like honey and mint from the gum he seems to chew at any given moment.

He pulls away to catch his breath but somehow his hands have wandered under your shirt and are now tugging it over your head, throwing it over his shoulder. Your chest is bare in front of him, skin glinting under the light of the night, and he mewls, desperate. He brings his mouth down on your collarbone, leaving open mouthed kisses down until he reaches your breast, and before you can react, his sharp teeth have pressed down into the supple flesh. It hurts, and you keen off the bed with a soft cry.

He slides his tongue over the bite in a soothing manner, pressing a kiss on it as well. Despite the initial pain, by the fifth bite (which has your breasts positively red), your back is arching off the mattress for a different reason, and you're sure that if he'd try to slide your panties off, they'd stick to your cunt in the most obscene way possible.

Your insides are aching by now, desperate to be filled to the brim by his cock. You let him know by tugging on the top half of his Nightwing suit, pulling it over his shoulders. His hair is sticking up in every direction after that and you can't help but giggle, his lips silencing you with a playful kiss. He gets the lower half off by himself and is left just in his boxers, the visible tent in them making you unconsciously part your legs further.

Dick, however, decides that he needs something and he needs it now because another wave of pollen is tugging on his insides and the pain of it makes his stomach cramp up. He starts to slowly rut against your thigh, riding it like he has many times before as a punishment for being bratty. Each movement of his hips has him panting out soft ah! ah! ah! 's and his face is pressed against the crook of your neck, where he's desperately mouthing at the skin, drool soaking it up. You coo at him, masking the degrading terms of endearment under the guise of your sweet tone, but it's still just egging him on, and before he can realise that he's close, he's already come inside his boxers with a high pitched whine. His whole body shakes as the orgasm crashes over him in waves, and his arms give up, making him fall on top of you. You slide your arms over his bare back, pressing small kisses around his hairline.

"You did good, baby. So good for me, aren't you? Gonna fuck me now, pretty bird? Get your cock inside me, fuck yourself stupid 'til all the pollen is gone?"

He keens again, baring his neck to you in an act of submission. His head is fuzzy and he can't really understand what you're saying, but he heard "pretty bird" and "fuck" and suddenly his cock is all hard and leaky again, desperate to be surrounded by something warm and wet and tight. The pollen is making his skin itch unbearably and he needs you to bite him just like he bit you, marking you with pretty shapes and colours. You lean down and do just that, digging your canines right above his pulse point, sucking on the flesh until its angry and purple and so, so pretty, just like the man in front of you.

His body goes seemingly more lax at that, though his hips are still squirming. Somehow, you manage to tug your panties down and off your legs and you slide your fingers into his curls, harshly tugging on them to bring him back to the real world.

"Fuck me, Dickie." You purr, bringing him into a kiss. He can't seem to catch up with your pace, but his instincts speak for themselves, and although the kiss is way sloppier than it should be, all the happy noises he's making makes it worth it.

He cages you between his arms and you help him guide his tip to your opening, clenching around nothing but air. You hadn't noticed when exactly he'd gotten rid of his now soiled boxers but there's nothing exactly to complain about. Your arousal mixed with the cum thats covering the length of him make it easy for him to slide fully inside you with a single thrust, the feeling of so suddenly being filled to the brim punching all the air out of your lungs.

He starts fucking into you like a madman, incoherent whines and pleas and moans spilling from his swollen lips like wildfire. You can't understand anything, but you hold him close, pressing kisses on top of any strip of skin you can reach. "Good, birdie, just like- fuck! that. Fucking me so good, you're the best boy."

You wrap your legs around his, digging your heels into his thick thighs, letting your head fall back in bliss. You can feel a few droplets fall onto your skin and then trail down, and you can't help but giggle e. "Is my pussy so good that it's making you cry, baby? You're so pathetic, Dickie, it's embarrassing. Just look at you."

Your voice is sickly sweet in his ear and he just cries harder, cheeks burning red from embarrassment, but it's as if his body has a mind of its own, continuing to fuck into you like a dog, a dog in heat. He doesn't want to feel stupid and incompetent, and he hates the fact that you're laughing at him, making him feel like he isn't doing a job good enough, but despite your cruel jokes, you're choking on moans of your own, and he also knows by the wet sounds of your cunt that he's fucking you better than anyone ever has and anyone ever will.

He brings one of his hands between your two slick bodies and starts to rub aggressive and tight circles on your clit, eyes locked on you as your face scrunches up, mouth falling apart at the mind numbing pleasure. He knows you better than anyone, so when your muscles start to tense and the pitch of your moans is getting higher and higher, he knows you're close. He picks up the pace of his hips, the sound of skin slapping echoing all around the bedroom. One, two, three snaps and you're coming on his cock with a loud cry, body convulsing painfully. He follows you not even a moment later, coming in the tight heat of your stomach with a loud whine, his whole body shuddering. Despite your vision swimming, you let your hands wander all over his skin, pulling his shaky body to your chest, where you shower him with kisses, touches and soft praises.

"Good, good boy, birdie. You did good, fucked me so good. How are you feeling?"

He just, whines softly on your chest, looking up at you with glassy eyes, blinking owlishly. You pepper his face with tiny kisses until he comes back, and when you feel his nose scrunch up under your lips, you know he's with you once more.

"Talk to me, baby. Are you good? Do we need to go again?" You run your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scratch over his scalp. He leans into your touch and you're pretty sure that if he could, he'd be purring.

"M'okay, I think. At least for now. I feel good, but I can tell that it's not completely gone from my system. Might need to do another round later." His voice is scratchy, and you reach for the water bottle on your bedside table, making him drink half of it. He thanks you with a soft kiss and settles back down on your chest, arms curled around your body.

You can't help but smile at him, heart overflowing with affection. "We should take a shower, pretty bird. You're sticky and I'm sticky, and we could do another round there. That sound good?"

He perks up at the mention of showering together and you laugh, pulling him up with you.

"Come on, then. If you're good then I'll use my mouth on you."

[unknownsvoid]

would bro be interested in doing the ass or tits with my goat rin or maybe even sae if you write him 😈

Ahhh... you're freak? But then again so am I so you ask and you shall damn well recieve!

Itoshi brothers getting freaky with your tits and ass!

✮⋆˙ | cw: anal and tit fucking. DUH? Um, I think fem!reader with big enough boobs is necessary for this ask. I'M SORRY MY SMALL TITTY DIVAS! WE LOVE YOU, BELIEVE ME! but your ass size shouldn't matter! Slighty subby rin? This is also kinda rushed idk? ✮⋆˙ | you can tell who i like more in this i think... wc: 1k+

Rin itoshi!

Now, me personally, I believe Rin would hate the whole aspect of fucking someone in the ass or the tits. He for sure believes it's unsanitary and probably would say no when you ask him for the first time, but then would eventually get fed up from several times you ask him.

Surprisingly, he was actually super nervous. So, you decided to let him pick between your ass and tits, saying that you'll try one today and then the other another day. Of course he picked your tits first, finding it the most sanitary out of the two options. But fuck, he had no idea tit-fucking could feel this good. He was sure all the people yapping online were for sure lying, but now? He is fighting back his words! Once he felt those plush tits of yours wrap his cock, it was all over for him. He had to hold himself back from cumming multiple times. Your tits felt like warm clouds around his cock as you guided them up and down the length of his dick. He couldn't even describe how good it felt, not with words anyway, more with whimpers and groans. His knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping onto the sheets below the two of you. He barely lasted ten minutes before his cum splattered all along the surface of your titties, and shit, you looked so pretty with his cum smothered all them. Yeah... he's definitely doing this again.

Now your ass was on another scale. You were in the doggy position when he was very much frozen. He was, obviously, still very much sceptical, but nonetheless you shove the lube into his hand which he sighs but complies to your wordless demand, squeezing the cold, sticky liquid all over his cock and then your asshole, watching it twitch in awe once the coolness of the lube touches it.

He asks you one last time if you're sure, and once you say yes, he's sliding himself in. He made sure to go slow - not wanting to hurt you. His breath hitches once he's fully in, telling you so and also adding on for you to tell him when your ready to move. In his head he was praying you weren't gonna say to move to soon because he was sure to cum right then and there. If it was even possible, your ass was a lot tighter than your pussy was. Thank god for the lube because the two of you would've been fucked.

He shakes his head when you tell him your ready - snapping out of his lewd thoughts. His hands tightened their grip on your waist before slowly pulling his hips back away from your ass before pushing them back against it. His tip hitting perfectly against your prostate, causing your ass to throw back against him, making you both moan in response when you do. A few thrusts later and the two of you are crashing down from your highs. His orgasm pooling inside of you while your slick coats your thighs.

Safe to say Rin would try again... maybe if you beg him to, like hell he'll ask to do so again.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵ Sae itoshi!

With Sae, he was probably more interested than Rin. Perking up and eyebrow when you ask him the question, wanting to try new things in the bedroom rather than the usual pussy-fucking. He shrugged and said yes. He actually seemed somewhat excited, a soft glimmer in his eyes that most people closer to him noticed when he was excited - proving your point. Unlike Rin, Sae actually wanted to fuck your ass first!

Squeezing decent amount of lube on your ass and his dick. He waited for your words of approval before pushing himself in the tight hole, the lube helping himself inside of you. He pats your ass to indicate that he's fully inside of you. Being barely able to speak, you nod. A silent way to tell him he can move, which he did. Going a little too fast to begin with, causing your breath to catch up in your throat. The obnoxiously loud noise of his pelvis hitting your ass filling up the room with each thrust. Your ass is absolutely going to be his second favourite before your pussy. The rim of your ass so eagerly squeezing around his cock, like it couldn't get enough of it. The more you arch your back, the more both of you inched closer to cumming. He sped up the pace, drilling himself in and out of your ass until you both do so. Both of you cumming at the same time.

Once he calms down, he pulls himself out of you. His eyes half-lidded as he watches his cum seeps out of your twitching asshole. Yeah, this is becoming a routine in your sex life.

Your tits he didn't show much enthusiasm for. He's more of an ass man anyway. Though, the lack of enthusiasm boosted to more enthusiasm than one can count once the soft mounds of your boobs wrap his cock. Without a doubt, he's already bucking his hips against your tits, fucking his cock in between cleavage. You followed his movements, guiding your tits up and down him in time of his movements. In no time, he was cumming on your tits. The softness of your titties pushed against his dick was too much for him to bare, so yeah, he came all over them.

Again, your tits were up there on the scale. Coming in third between your pussy and ass.

[radawaycunt]

Aqua Thermae

Also on AO3

Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Summary: After a particularly great victory in the arena, Lucius is rewarded with both a visit to a bathhouse and you -- a high-ranking courtesan -- to keep him company.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI this fic is 18+), reader is a courtesan (so SW), mentions of violence, shenanigans in and out of water, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, maybe some historical inaccuracies? forgive my sins please, and I thinkkk that's it but lmk if anything else!

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It had been a very long time since he’d been somewhere so luxurious. One of Rome’s finest bathhouses brought echoes of a comfortable life long past in the emperor’s palace. The marble pillars and fine mosaic floors, the detailed frescoes on the walls, and a large thermal pool all for himself.

Then other flashes of memory came to him – his mother’s kindness, his father’s armor, his uncle Comodus’ booming voice, and the cross of their swords…

He shucked his heavy breastplate and immediately felt the steam on his already sweat-slick skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. If only memories were so easy to get rid of, he might not always feel so tormented.

Lavishness was not something he had ever actively sought out, even if he was entitled to it as the direct descendant to the throne, but it was strange to think he was once accustomed to it. So much had happened since his forced departure, like a hundred lives melding into one.

Now, after a long, grueling fight with a mighty rhinoceros and its fierce rider, he wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the warm water until his head swam and his muscles no longer ached so badly.

But then he noticed you standing on one side of the pool, a carafe of wine and a platter of dates, cheese, and nuts waiting on a low table next to you. You smiled as your eyes locked and Lucius’ back immediately straightened. Not much took him by surprise anymore, but this certainly had.

“Who are you?” He asked, curious rather than irritated at your presence.

You inclined your head genially. “You may call me whatever you like.”

He huffed in amusement, giving you a once-over. “Very well, then. And who sent you here?”

“Macrinus wanted nothing but the best company for you, his champion,” you said, serving him some wine. “I am to be your prize, along with this bath.”

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally and he looked away in an almost bashful manner. His profile was proud and handsome, kissed by the sun and the strikes of his opponents. He had the face of a hero history would always remember – Or at least you would, certainly.

He was hesitant at first, unsure if he could trust anything that came from Macrinus. But as he took another look at you, your allure was too great for him not to be stirred. He could tread carefully, but he didn’t really want to deny himself pleasure, however fleeting it may be.

“I take it your company is quite coveted around here?” He asked, approaching to accept the wine you offered.

You nodded in response, fingertips barely brushing his as he took the glass. He held your gaze as he took a sip and you almost lost yourself in the infinite blue of his eyes. 

“By the likes of who?” He asked.

“Fierce gladiators such as yourself,” you said pointedly, unable to help your wandering eyes from finding the rippling muscles of his chest. “Merchants. Senators. Even emperor Geta has had his fill of me, but Caracalla was content with just watching.”

“Let us not speak of them now,” he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the names of the bloodthirsty twin emperors. “Within these walls, it is just the two of us. Nothing more.”

You nodded in understanding as he set down his glass on the table. “Would you like me to help you finish undressing?”

“I can manage,” he said, but now his eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, barely covered by a nearly see-through shift. “But I should like to help you, so you may join me.”

“How very kind of you,” you grinned, a salacious edge to your tone. 

He stepped even closer, reaching to unclasp the bronze brooch at your shoulder. The shift fell in a puddle of fabric at your feet, your body completely bare underneath. He let out a small, shuddering breath, fingers lightly tracing one of your clavicles.

For a moment, his expression was clouded as something crossed his mind. He stared off into the middle distance, but before he could really lose himself, you decided to intervene. You pulled him in, one hand cupping the back of his head as you went on your tiptoes and brought your lips close to his ear.

“Whatever you’d like to forget, I should really like to help you,” you whispered.

“Everything,” he rasped, one callused hand grasping your hip, while the other gently tilted your head to one side so your lips would meet his.

You tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and breathed him in. He smelled of the arena — blood and sand and sweat. It was not unfamiliar to you, but it was heady coming off of him, fueling your growing desire. 

Deftly, he managed to reach between your bodies to undo his pteruges and the loincloth underneath, both joining your shift on the floor. You felt the hardness of his own want against your lower abdomen, but he made no move to hasten things along. 

“Come now, let us wash the day off of you,” you said softly, pulling away to guide him into the water.

You waited by the edge for him to submerge himself first, watching the way his muscles worked as he walked. He had the grace of a warrior, as if poised for attack at any moment. You almost shudder at his deep groan of contentment, leaning back against the edge. Sliding closer, you massaged his broad shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension. His hand found your calf, caressing it. 

He closed his eyes and let himself be pampered, your touch transporting him far away, beyond even the shores of Ostia. He thought of your luminous eyes, the honeyed taste of your lips, and the smell of rose oil on your skin… What lovely comfort you offered. He wanted more of you and he suspected he would still not have enough.

If winning meant earning moments like this, with you, then he would never let himself be defeated in the arena. Or elsewhere, for that matter.

“My very own Venus Pompeiana,” he said softly, turning around so he could slot his body between your legs and face you. “The Gods seem to be favoring me greatly today.”

You cupped his face tenderly. “Something tells me they will continue to do so, too.”

He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded as they dropped to your lips. “Tell me, did you emerge from the seafoam, too?”

You laughed, delighted at his words. “Yes, I am salt, and brine, and pearls made flesh.”

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the water with him. His lips found yours again and your legs wrapped around his hips, anchoring yourself to him. He submerged both of you for a moment and you chuckled against his lips when you resurfaced.

He kissed you like he might never be able to do so again — like a desperate lover forced to say goodbye before sailing off to war. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, his beard tickling the lower half of your face. Your head swam and you wished you could spend an eternity there, in that moment.

You let his hands wander a little, getting bolder by the minute, but then you pulled away and playfully swam away from him. A safe distance away, you splashed some water at him, inciting him to give chase. 

He swam after you unhurriedly, his head low in the water so that you mostly saw his eyes. You could tell he was smiling from the way they creased at the corners, and you felt a thrill low in your spine as he drew closer. It reminded you of a crocodile pursuing its prey, biding its time before the right moment came along. 

A nervous giggle escaped you as you backed away, even daring to splash more water in his direction. He slipped under the water and for a delirious moment of uncertainty, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You searched for any sign of him, but the water was cloudy and concealed him well.

Suddenly, you felt the graze of teeth on your hip and you cried out, startled. Lucius re-emerged, shaking water from his hair and cornering you against the edge of the pool.

“Got you now,” he rasped, pressing you against him and bending to kiss your throat.

“Mercy,” you gasped, smiling wide as you amiably submitted to his attention. “Oh, please have mercy.”

He lifted your hips further so that his cock rested against your folds. You tried to move against him as best as the angle would allow and he helped guide you with one hand on your hip. 

“Mercy?” he said against your jaw, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. “You see how you’ve got me? I’ve not had any mercy from you.”

You grinned slyly. “You thought I’d yield so easily?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Actually, you make it very hard not to, as much as I like to play,” you conceded, biting your lip.

He chuckled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he fought the urge to slip inside you and claim you for himself. But not yet, of course, as he wanted to play with you a little while longer too. 

“Shall we put you to the test?”

He lifted you out of the water and sat you back on the edge. With one broad palm on your sternum, he gently pushed you backward. Instinctively, your legs hiked up, but you let him be the one to spread them.

He let out a low groan at the sight, his gaze incandescent as it met yours. He kissed your calf, then the inside of your knee, and steadily progressed up your inner thigh as he propped himself half out of the water.

Your hips shifted as he got close to his target, but then he moved to your other leg, repeating the same torturously slow process. You propped up on your elbows to give him a slightly annoyed look and he grinned cheekily.

“How’s that for mercy?” He asked, but before you could respond, his head dipped and his tongue finally found where you were aching.

A breathy Oh escaped you as your back arched, fingers digging into his curls once more. He was just as skilled with his mouth as with a blade, easily finding the tenderest, most sensitive spots. He had you squirming on the tiled floors, the tip of his tongue tracing circular patterns on your clit.

“Gods,” he moaned, the taste of you only making him hungrier and greedier for more.

You tried to grind against his face, chasing the waves of pleasure that already crested over you. His beard added just enough friction to create another layer of stimulation, and soon enough, your eyes were searching for constellations at the back of your skull.

“Lucius, oh, Lucius,” you panted. “You’re gonna make me– Ah!”

He felt triumphant at your trembling under him, more honey flowing from you and onto his tongue. You made soft, almost pleading sounds, holding onto his head as if to anchor yourself. He groaned, prolonging your pleasure for as long as you both could stand it. His blood felt near boiling and yet the only cure for it was you. 

Ravenous and near feral, he pulled himself out of the water and crawled over you. Finally – mercifully – he slid into you with ease, going slow and deep at first so you could adjust to him. He watched your reactions closely, feeling himself twitch inside of you — so warm and soft and perfect for him.

But that wasn't the only way he wanted to have you, and every time either of you grew closer to the edge, he changed positions. His stamina was astounding, especially considering he had been fighting for his life only a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until you were on top of him, his hands aiding the gyrations of your hips, that you could get revenge for all his teasing. You set the pace, finding an angle where you could grind your clit against his pelvis with each move. His eyes roamed over you reverently, like you were the true goddess of love, and he was your subject worshipping at your temple. Sweat slick skin, the bounce of your breasts, your bared throat as you tilted your head backward in ecstasy… He found divinity in all of this.

His self-composure began to dissolve as his grip on you tightened. His brows furrowed and his mouth was slack, his moans spilling out wantonly. He was beautiful, so truly beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned, his hips positioning upwards to meet your movements. 

As you happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him, he lifted his torso to meet you halfway. He cupped the back of your head as his body tensed, spilling his seed inside you hotly. You came harder than before, your cunt squeezing him tightly in time with the twitching of his cock. 

Spent, you collapsed on his chest, the two of you sharing a laugh, high on endorphins. He wiped a stray strand of hair from your forehead with even more tenderness than you thought you’d ever experienced. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world, having found something so good in a place as hostile as Rome. He wouldn’t let you go so easily. 

“Come to the next games,” he said softly before he could really think about it.

You hesitated. As much as you’d love to see him in action, you didn’t think you could bear to see him get hurt… Or worse. 

“You want me to watch you fight?” You asked, trying to keep the fear away from your expression. 

“I want you to see me win,” he said without a shred of doubt. “That way, you can be sure that no man can stop me from claiming my reward right after.”

You shuddered, biting down a giddy grin. “I’ll be there for you to find me, my champion.”

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

[hivemuthur]

kinda smutty but basically viktor x reader kinda modern au where he has to go to an event later, but reader distracts him by bringing him to bed and making out. eventually leads to multiple hickeys on his neck (i just know this man’s skin would bruise easily) which then leads to rushed makeup haul to find something that matches him to cover up. i love love love love love love love love love love love love love your writing! it’s so good!

Hi Anon! I see we share a common obsession with Viktor's neck. You match my freak.

Cuteness Aggression

viktorxgn!reader mature! kissing, or rather making out, slight dry humping and dirty talk

author’s note: Sue makes a cameo (or rather is mentioned in this fic), because I wanted it to be as inclusive as possible, therefore I am not mentioning Reader's skin tone. Other than that, it's just lovebombing fluff. Also heeh, it has a tiny bit of playful wrestling, because I am an inconsistent twat. Viktor's scent for this fic is: Hyde by Hiram Green.

word count: 2,1K

—

“Why are you looking at me like this?”

Viktor’s voice snapped you out of the wanderings of your deranged mind. Oh, and did your mind wander. It snaked itself beneath the leg of his woollen trousers, hugging his tiny ass so nicely. Then up, up his sleeve to place an imaginary kiss on the vein in the crook of his elbow and lick his stomach right where the belt would inevitably leave a dent in the skin.

Then, your imaginary tongue travelled up, making a stop at every freckle, only to leave a nasty bite mark somewhere in the middle of his chest. And maybe on his neck as well. Which was now flexing proudly from the V-shaped collar of his sweater, the tiniest bit of white shirt peeking from underneath it. A dark brown coat on top, framing him into a model example of someone who just looks effortlessly good.

You were kneeling on the bed, ogling him shamelessly, Viktor’s eyes pensive on you as he tried to squeeze the verdict out of your agape mouth. “Well? My eyes are up here, I will remind you.”

“I, uh…” you mumbled stupidly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Yes, that looks good.” Eyes still fixed on him, because you forgot how to blink.

“I feel like I should change into something less slutty if this is your reaction. We wouldn’t want people at the charity gala throwing themselves at me, would we?” He smirked, looking at his nails nonchalantly, and suddenly you realised your face was burning.

“God, sorry,” you chuckled awkwardly and hid your face in your palms. “I just haven’t seen you all dressed up in a while.”

“No, no need to be sorry, I am immensely enjoying this, if you couldn’t tell by now,” he said smugly, shaking his coat off and throwing it over a chair. “I would take massive advantage of it if Jayce wasn’t picking me up in half an hour.” He took a couple of steps forward and dropped his cane on the mattress beside you.

“Well, maybe you could take a little advantage then?” you asked playfully, rising on your knees and pulling him by the belt to sit on the bed next to you. Straddling his hips, you wrapped your arms around his neck and licked his cheek all the way up to his temple. “I can’t believe you are abandoning me, looking like this, to flex in front of some STEM bros.”

“Ah, I solemnly swear to atone upon my return.” A low, suggestive whisper rumbled against your skin as his hands cradling your ass sent a jolt up your spine, and you involuntarily sunk deeper into his lap, forcing a grunt out of him. Viktor shot you a scolding look and chuckled, “If you ruin my pants, I’m taking yours. And you wouldn’t want that.”

“You better pray I don’t ruin you and that you can feel your legs when I’m done with you,” you breathed out, placing a trail of slick kisses on the tendon of his neck, and Viktor cackled, the pitch of his laugh embarrassingly high.

Playfully, he pushed you away, his lips forming a comical pout. “You cannot crumple me! We’ve been picking those clothes for an hour, ah—” he gasped as your teeth caught his earlobe. A giggle pushed itself past his mouth, and his hands squeezed your thighs firmly. “That’s it,” he stated, shrugging you off of him, only to crawl on top of you clumsily.

He pinned your hands above your head, lifted your shirt with his nose and blew a raspberry on your stomach, making you squirm and kick your legs around. “Please! I surrender, ah!” You screamed as he tickled your tummy with his nose and tongue.

Viktor lifted himself and shot you a look to check if you did, in fact, surrender and regretted instantly as you wrapped your legs around him and trapped him in a tight squeeze, forcing him to let out a startled huff. He landed with his chest flush against yours, your noses bumping each other.

“I am ready to suffer the consequences of crumpling you, mister,” you whispered against his lips, when a concern crossed your thoughts at the sight of a frown on his forehead. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, only my pride,” he snorted, kissing your neck. “If I knew some nice pants and a sweater would make you go so feral, I’d dress up every day.” You were flashed an incredulous grin and granted freedom of your hands, which you immediately used to tangle your fingers into Viktor’s hair and shove your tongue into his mouth.

He moaned, at first surprised, then just welcoming, when his hands snaked around your body to squeeze your waist and cup your ass once more. He rolled both of you to the side, but you wouldn’t have it and pushed him further to trap him underneath you.

“It seems the more I can’t have you, the more I want you. Something to think about,” you smirked and ground your hips into his mercilessly. Viktor groaned, his hands hovering tentatively around your thighs before slapping your ass playfully.

“I told you how I feel about my pants getting ruined or me getting crumpled, but you seem to be completely deaf,” Viktor huffed, utterly bemused by the sudden rush of want in you, as you licked his neck, making all sorts of obscene smacking sounds.

You cupped his face, your fingers digging into the base of his skull as your tongue traced his upper lip and the seam of his mouth, coaxing him to open. A laugh got caught in his throat as your nose pressed against his and you inhaled him deeply, licking the roof of his mouth and sending a content moan straight to his stomach.

His hips bucked beneath you, making a smile bloom across your lips. You tugged at his hair to expose his neck and placed a trail of loving pecks all the way down to his collar bone. Viktor writhed against you, sending threats in your direction, his breathy tone making them sound entirely unserious. “You have no idea what I am going to do to you when I come back.”

“Oh, baby, are you not enjoying my love?” You cooed against his skin, blowing on a new love mark you sucked into his neck.

“I am enjoying it thoroughly,” he grunted, pressing his half-hard cock up to meet your core and you whined into the crook of his shoulder, careful not to drool on his beautiful sweater. “But I have something around twenty minutes before Jayce gets here, and you are making me look like a whore.”

“But you make such a beautiful whore, Viktor, I can’t help it,” you wheezed theatrically into his ear, drawing another giggle this evening. “Also, this will make it look like you really cared about coming to the gala.” Without putting much thought into what you had just said, you resumed your work on spattering Viktor’s neck with little marks of affection.

And he let you, because it felt too great to stop. The weight of your hips so sweet on his pelvis that he could probably get off on it if he let you grind on him for a little while longer. Your hands groping him greedily, your usual roles suddenly switched, as he was the one panting and writhing for his dear life, praying that his crotch wouldn’t be damp after all of this.

He let himself be pulled by the bite on his lower lip, let his shirt slip out of his pants as you explored his stomach and stuffed your greedy fingers under his belt, tickling his navel. He allowed you to palm him through his pants, even though it had earned you a bite on the neck of your own.

You leeched onto his skin, chuckling between the small nips at his lips, a singular web-like strand of drool connecting your mouths. When you finally lifted to gaze upon your creation, Viktor looked like a fallen angel—his hair a complete mess, face and ears a darker shade of pink, eyes molten, lids hooded, and mouth slightly parted in a soft smile. And his clothes, well, crumpled like a thin paper sheet.

He traced his fingers under your t-shirt, rubbing circles on each of your sides. Admiring the mark that had begun to bloom on your collarbone, a realisation hit him. He was going to be a complete hot mess, his neck most likely stained with bruises. He clasped a hand to his mouth and whispered in exaggerated concern, “How bad is the damage?”

You cocked your head from side to side, smiling innocently, and he rolled his eyes, your name falling from his lips in a playful scold. Shrugging you off of himself, he reached to the bedside for your mirror and nearly choked at the state of his skin—red, bloodshot marks covering his neck, a slight swelling around the spots you bit on harder.

“Lásko, you have outdone yourself,” he sighed, tracing his fingertips across each of the love confessions you sucked into his skin. “And what am I going to do now, hm?”

“A turtleneck?” You laughed, waggling your eyebrows at him. “Or a scarf?”

“Yes, let’s make it even more obvious. Other ideas, and please let them be good?”

“I can suck on the rest of you, so the colour matches everywhere, ow!” You winced at the pinch on your ass and batted Viktor’s hand away. “Alright! Alright, I think Sue left something behind after the last time, let me check if it matches you.” Honest capitulation could be heard in your voice, as you slid off the bed to search for Sue’s foundation in the bathroom—the only person you knew that could match Viktor in the ghastly skin tone club.

You grabbed it triumphantly from the drawer under the sink and threw it in Viktor’s direction, before grabbing your make-up bag and kneeling in front of him on the bed.

“Lift, please,” you said flatly, propping his chin up, momentarily fixated on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed beneath your fingers. You gave his throat an affectionate squeeze and murmured, “Bye, bye hickeys,” making Viktor chuckle.

“You will see them again in the evening,” he said warmly, placing his hands on your thighs.

“Oh, you bet your ass I will. I am going to scrub this makeup off you the minute you step through the door,” you muttered absently, your focus fully on pounding the fluid onto your masterpiece.

 “I think this is my best work yet,” you announced proudly, adding more and more product, as the stubborn redness refused to disappear under Sue’s delicate cosmetics.

You had to use baby powder to set it, since none of your humble makeup collection items seemed to match Viktor’s skin tone, making him smell like a newborn, who happened to like birch tar and bergamot cologne.

You patted his cheek affectionately and passed him the mirror so he could evaluate whether the troubleshooting had proven successful, adding in a flat, nasal tone, “We do not accept refunds.”

“Not bad,” he hummed, flexing his neck, which immediately made you weak in your knees.

“I hope you understand I will have to make you squirm for this later, yes?” he said matter-of-factly, slapping his palms flat on your thighs, his eyebrows lifted in expectation.

You nodded and kept nodding until Viktor smiled and your face twisted into a dumb grin. “That’s settled then,” he stated with one final firm pat on your legs and lifted himself off the bed. He grabbed his cane, coat, checked his phone and mumbled something about Jayce already waiting downstairs.

You walked up to him, pinching his ass and picking at his hair, your hands wandering as you tried to straighten his clothes and put his shirt back in place. Before leaving, he pulled you into a tight hug and whispered against your lips, “Thank you. I’m much less nervous than I was half an hour ago.”

“Hmm, no worries,” you murmured between soft kisses placed on his beauty marks. “I am so very proud of you; I hope you know this.”

“Oh yes, after today I am convinced that if you could, you would wear my skin as a pelt,” he chuckled against your neck, his breath fanning your skin with a warm breeze. “I would have to make sure it’s covered with hickeys before that,” you said, adjusting his collar. “And I would never, ever take it off.”

[violentdelights-violentendss]

Logan Going Into a Rut.

Would you guys like a part two? I could make a part two if you guys want….let me know how it is and please request a thousand more things I am eagerly awaiting your requests!!! (I am also working on the ones I already got!) I didn’t spell check this….

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Logan goes into a rut earlier than he expected.

Logan had woken up that morning significantly earlier than he usually did. You were still sleeping peacefully next to him, entangled in the sheets you had stolen from him during the night. Logan didn’t mind too much, being always warm. But that morning, he felt even hotter than usual. He slid his hand against his bare chest, feeling it to be slick with sweat. He closed his eyes, massaging his temples, before he shook his morning drowsiness and confusion away, deciding he would not be able to sleep any longer. He walked to the bathroom, deciding to take a cold shower even if it was the heart of winter.

He wasn’t too mad about the early start, Charles having drowned him in a very extensive list of things to do, not counting the lessons he had to begrudgingly teach that afternoon. Logan stepped outside of the bathroom, fully clothed and ready for the day, even if he still felt a little drowsy. He chalked it up to having eaten too heavily the night before, maybe the digestion worsening his sleep.

He checked himself in the mirror, making sure he looked decent. He started heading towards the door of your room. Right before he left, he glanced at you, making sure you were still in deep sleep. Logan’s eyes froze on your figure: your sleeping shorts had slid up your body, revealing your thighs, and your braless tits hidden underneath the shirt you had stolen from him begged him to jump back into bed with you. He exhaled loudly. Logan gripped the door so tightly he thought his claws would come out. He needed to go work. He shook his head, cursing Charles as he shut the door behind him.

•

Logan had been running around the X mansion fulfilling various tasks, not noticing as the day slowly, and sluggishly slid forward. The gloominess of the morning left its place to the timid rays of the winter sun, that caressed his back as he finished fixing a broken kitchen cabinet. A multitude of students had already waltzed inside the kitchen, still half asleep. They had uttered a sleepy ‘good morning’, before they grabbed a little food. Logan grunted in response, too focused on the darn kitchen cabinet. The flow of students had significantly slower when he had managed to finally fix it.

Logan slammed down the screwdriver. “Fucking finally.” He closed and opened the cabinet a few times, smiling proudly when the cabinet door did not decide to dramatically clatter to the ground rather choosing to finally stay in place.

“What are you celebrating, baby?”

Your voice startled him, but he quickly turned around, a type of smile reserved for you only gracing his lips. “(Y/N).” You grinned back at him. “I managed to fix this darn cabinet door that someone, managed to detach in the dead of night.”

Your eyes glinted. “You have a gut feeling about who did it?”

“Definitely.” Logan replied, walking around the counter to hold your waist. “I woke up super early this morning.” He added. You pulled back from his chest, worry dancing in your eyes. “No nothing serious, bub, I just think I ate a dinner that was too heavy.”

Your eyes relaxed, pushing up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. You were about to pull back when Logan suddenly deepened the kiss, darting his tongue in your mouth. You leaned back into the kiss, letting yourself be pulled by Logan’s large, warm hands on your waist. The man grunted into the kiss, his body starting to tingle on fire, desire coursing through your veins. The way he was pulling you close seemed desperate, as if he needed you to breathe.

You gasped in shock when his hands slid onto your waist and pressed you against his crotch, feeling his already erected cock. “Already hard?” You whispered, looking down at the evident bulge in his pants. Logan pushed you against the counter, caging you against it. His chest heaved frantically.

“No idea, darling. You’re making me go crazy today.” He whispered, before he dove back into the kiss. You fully lost yourself in it, knowing the kitchen was pretty much deserted at this point in time. He pressed into the kiss, his tongue caressing your mouth, desire making his chest burn incandescently. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting your hands roam on his large back, his scent making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You were about to suggest moving it to the bedroom when Logan suddenly pulled back, pressing his crotch tightly against yours and caging you tightly against his chest. You glanced up at him, worried something happened when you noticed his legs were quivering. A moan erupted from his lips, and his hips thrusted against yours. “(Y/N), oh my god!” He grunted. You didn’t know what was happening till you felt wetness from Logan’s crotch, seeping into your leggings, as his head was thrown back, and he panted loudly.

“Did…Logan did you cum?” You asked, startled: he usually lasted more than a few rounds. His endurance was crazy. Logan’s eyes fluttered open, lust blowing his pupils wide. He slowly looked at you, disbelief clearly evident on his face. You tentatively bucked your hips, watching as he shivered.

“I think…” Logan swallowed, reaching his hand to feel his crotch. “My rut might be coming early.” He closed his eyes, cursing himself: the sweat, the ever present arousal, the shitty sleep…it was all there. Your eyes widened, shooting down to the clear stain on his light blue pants, and the evident bulge that was already growing again.

“Fuck, today is not the day for that.” You cursed.

“What, why?” Logan asked, grunting when he felt the head of his cock press against the seam of his jeans. Why did he decide to go commando today of all days.

“I have that overnight field trip with my students! I can’t bail last minute.” You cried, your eyes widening. Logan’s face contorted into a grimace of pain, a curse rolling out of his mouth, as he realized this day would suck. A lot. He would have to spend the day locked in your room, rutting against your panties to try and feel any sort of momentary solace. But he knew you could not desert your students just like that. Even if he acted all gruff and scary, he knew what caring for students meant, and he would not rip their favorite teacher away from them, especially during a field trip that was only supposed to be joyful.

He caressed your cheeks. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. I’ll figure it out.” He lied through his teeth, already feeling his skin starting to burn and itch with almost irresistible lust.

You glared back at him. “No, it’s not fine and we both know it. You know what, I’ll come back tonight. I won’t stay overnight. How does that sound, baby? Huh?” You asked, pulling against his shirt to try and get him to concentrate through the daze of lust that was already taking over.

Logan nodded, his head spinning. “Yeah, that would be great, love.” He whispered. You moved against him, trying to reach your phone to check the time, your knee gliding against his bulge. “Fuck!” Logan croaked, throwing his head back.

You locked your phone, glancing up at him. “Logan, baby, I still have 10 minutes. What can I do?” You asked, caressing his chest.

Before he replied, Logan gently grabbed your arm, dragging the both of you inside the supply closet, and locking the door behind you.

Safely inside, Logan closed his eyes, trying to look past his primal instincts, and deem what would be the best course of action. Objectively, fucking you would keep him satisfied the longest, but there wasn’t time in 10 minutes. He discarded his rationality, fully relying on his animal instincts, knowing what they desired in the moment would keep him satisfied the most. “This…might be weird, baby, but I just need to rut against you, please.” His voice was heavy with need.

“Baby, I’m here. I’m here for everything.” You reassured him, spreading your legs, letting Logan position his crotch right in between, were he needed to be. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you still as he started to thrust against you. His face soon contorting in a grimace of pleasure, even a drop of drool sliding down the side of his mouth.

Your hands raked Logan’s back underneath his shirt, letting him feel your skin on his. His beautiful eyes slid open, his gaze landing on your tits, that bounced delicately with every trust. “Your tits, babygirl…need to see them.” Logan whispered in your ear. You pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck before you unzipped your jacket, revealing your light tank top underneath: you were going out with your students to a nature park, you needed to be sporty.

You reached for your neckline, feeling Logan’s hand wrap around yours to yank your tits out faster. When they were right in front of his eyes, Logan mewled loudly, leaning down to kiss you fervently as his hips started to jackhammer faster.

Somehow, even in the daze of his lust, Logan had managed to perfectly align his tip with your clit, making you see stars. Your moans quickly started mingling with his. His large hands reached your left thigh, hoisting it up to wrap around his waist. “Right - nghh - there! Logan!” You cried, hearing your boyfriend’s quiet pants fill your ears.

“Gonna make me cum in my pants again. God, you turn me into a horny teenager.” He murmured, his rhythm slowing down for a second before it started picking up again.

Your phone buzzed, showing you the time. “Logan…I need to go soon!” You whimpered, threading your hands through his hair.

“I’m close.” He reassured you, his lidded eyes landing on your jiggling tits. They dragged a broken moan out of his lips. Logan was only ever this loud when he was experiencing his rut. “Are you?” You nodded quickly.

The knot in your stomach had been tightening for a while, and reacted the second it was called to attention. You wrapped your arms tightly around Logan, pressing him against you, practically shoving his face in between your breasts. “Logan!” You cried, throwing your head back, as the thigh he was holding quivered in his hand, orgasming powerfully.

The sudden surge of the smell of your arousal made Logan go crazy, sighing against your tits before he pulled back. He stopped for a second, even if he was close. You watched him, dazed, still descending from your high. Through your tired eyes and panting chest, you watched as Logan hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans pulling out his cock. He quickly placed his leaking cock in between your legs, and you had the reflex to shut your thighs to allow him a little more pleasure.

“Fuck. I could fuck you for hours!” He whispered, starting to move his hips as quickly as he could. You leaned forward, licking a strip up his neck, landing on a spot you knew sent him crazy and gently nibbling on it. Logan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, the sensation of your leggings against his sensitive tip, and your delicate teeth against his neck finally pushing him to the edge.

The orgasm was so powerful he didn’t even have time to warn you. His hips just sped up, his voice ripped away from the pleasure. He didn’t even manage to utter your name, just gripping your waist with his fingers. His mouth snapped open when he felt his orgasm reach him. Logan’s claws sprung out of his hands, puncturing two bags of rice that were placed on the shelves you were pressed against. Just as the rice started tumbling to the ground, Logan cummed, distinctly hearing his cum splatter on the floor.

Your boyfriend slumped against you, his claws retracting, his thighs shivering. You caressed his back, pressing soft kisses against his neck. “You did so well, baby.” You cooed, moving your hands to massage his head. Logan nodded, spent.

Your phone buzzed again, your students asking where you were. You cursed, hastily pulling your shirt back up and zipping your jacket. You clasped Logan’s jawline, forcing him to look at you through his post-orgasm daze. “I’m going to come back as soon as I can. Love you so much, baby.” You whispered, pressing your forehead against him.

Logan’s hands ran down to your waist, dragging you into a kiss. Your bodies melted together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and yanking him closer. Not even a piece of paper could have fit through you. You pulled back, eyeing the string of saliva connecting you. “If we keep going like this, a bigger pool of cum will be on the floor.” You whispered, starting to head towards the door.

Logan grinned, lazily passing his hand through his hair. “Go, have fun. I’ll clean up here. I’ll be waiting for you tonight.” His eyes glinted with an erotic promise. You grinned, blowing a flying kiss. Logan watched the door close behind you, pulling his jeans back up and hastily disinfecting the floor.

He walked outside, quickly going to inform Charles he would be off today before he headed back to the room. He could still feel his buzzing desire for you deep inside his skin, but he felt somewhat satisfied as he threw his shirt on the floor, letting himself fall on the bed. Logan moved on his side, trying to get some sleep to get a break from his lust, but as he adjusted himself on the mattress, his eyes landed on the dirty panties you had accidentally forgotten on the ground. Your scent reached his sensitive nose, drugging him immediately.

Logan glanced down towards his crotch. He was hard again. “Fuck!” He yelled, falling back down on the bed, exasperated. It would be a long, long, day.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

MORE VIRGIN SPENCERRRRR

from the start | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's a nervous mess in your bed, but you like it.

wc: 1.7k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: puppy bf!spencer, virgin!spencer, early seasons!spencer, hookup, friends with benefits(?), dominant fem!reader, gratuitous use of petnames (baby, darling, etc. but it wouldn't be a minnie special without petnames), praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex

a/n: a weird dream of mine turned into a spencer self-insert (jk) so I wrote 1.7k words just to fuel my delusion. this is also a little birthday gift from me to all of you! i've hit 1000 followers (!!!!) on this little spencer blog of mine and i am so so grateful so the only thing i can do is write spencer smut to celebrate! also this lovely anon asked for virgin spencer and I literally cannot refuse (also crossposted to ao3)

You aren’t complaining, ending up in bed with Spencer Reid again. 

You’d met at a bar, the usually shy genius (according to his friends) coming out of his shell to talk to you, and it had ended in a couple of drinks and you making out with him against the wall in the back of the bar. 

You’d brought him home, fully expecting to fuck him. You’d gotten him into your bed when he’d confessed he’d never done anything like this before, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him you could tell. Instead, you’d given him a blowjob before he fell asleep in your bed after a long week on a case. The next morning he’d bashfully woken up to breakfast, and a promise that you’d like to see him again.

“It’ll be less intimidating like this,” you pet his cheek softly, before you turn over onto your hands and knees. You notice that Spencer doesn’t move, so you turn your head to look at him. 

Spencer frowns. “I thought– I wanted to see your face.”

“You’re sweet, darling,” you chuckle. “Come on. I promise this will be easier on you for your first time. You know what to do?” 

Spencer hums, his eyes shyly looking to your rear now. You’re on display for him, thick thighs framing the wetness of your pussy. You know he can’t take his eyes off you, his inexperience obvious and extremely arousing.

Spencer had been a bumbling mess as you’d kissed him, as you’d undressed each other, his hands trembling through it. “You know you can touch me, right?” You tease, and Spencer whines rather petulantly. “Take all the time you need, baby.”

Spencer’s large hands are on you, gentle on your skin. His hands pet you rather sweetly, over your hips and thighs, before he feels the softness of your ass under his palms. You hear his shallow breathing, and feel his thumbs spread you open. His breath hitches. 

You don’t say anything, patient as you let him explore your body. He touches you with an avid curiosity, like he wants to find out about everything that makes you tick, like he wants to commit the lines and curves of your body to memory. 

His movements slow like syrup, his touch moves to your cunt, sticky with your slick. His fingers slide over your pussy; along your folds, over your leaking hole. “I’m going to…” Spencer trails off, as he presses his index finger gently to your entrance. 

You moan as your head drops between your shoulders, with Spencer sliding a curious finger inside of you. He feels around, and it feels more like a medical exam than foreplay, but Spencer’s lack of experience still turns you on extremely. Spencer’s voice is strained. “You feel so warm. You’re so tight.”

“Yeah, baby, I’m not sure if you’re goin​​g to be able to fit,” you tease playfully, smiling as you look back at him. “You’re going to have to make it fit, won’t you?”

Spencer’s eyes are wide, and he swallows nervously. “Yes– Yes, ma’am.”

“Ugh, you’re so cute– Oh!” You gasp as Spencer’s finger presses into you insistently, nudging against your spongy walls, against the spot that makes you lose your mind. “Mm, right there, fuck–”

Being eager to please, Spencer does exactly that – he keeps fingering you, slow and steady, and waits for your approval. You’re basically melting as he fucks you on his fingers, and you only remember you have a bigger plan until he whimpers. “Hmm, baby?”

“I want to- I wanna taste you,” Spencer says, and you moan as his thumb nudges at your clit.

“You- You sure you can last long enough for foreplay?” You jab, but you shudder in a moan as Spencer rubs at your swollen clit with more intention, pleased with the way he takes you apart.  

Spencer scoffs. “I think I should ask you the same.”

“Eat me out, Spencer,” you demand. Spencer just gets his head between your thighs. 

You feel his mouth on your cunt, kissing you sweetly, moaning as he tastes you. His lips are soft and plush on your skin, his lower lip massaging at your clit as he eats you out. His tongue slides over your folds, wet noises coming from his mouth as he takes his time tasting you. 

“You’re stupidly good at this,” you moan, your face buried in his pillows as you’re barely able to keep yourself propped up. The pleasure Spencer gives you courses through your veins, electric from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You think you hear Spencer mumble a thank you, and the vibrations only make you moan even louder. 

You want to come right now, but you know it’ll be so much sweeter to orgasm when Spencer’s buried inside of you. You don’t know if he’ll be able to handle it, the hypersensitive, easily overwhelmed genius in your bed simply might lose his mind fucking you.

“Spencer, baby,” you coo. “Wanna- Need you to fuck me now, darling.”

A high whine leaves Spencer’s throat, and he’s quick to pull away from you, as fast as he’d put his mouth on you earlier. “Please! Please, I need to–”

You giggle, beckoning him to come closer to you. He leans over your frame until his face is close to yours, and you kiss him sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips, but Spencer is giddy as he kisses you back. He tries to trail after you as you pull away, and the sight is both adorable and extremely arousing. 

“You gonna fuck me good, baby?” You smile, feeling the hardness of his length pressed against your ass. 

“Yes– Yes, ma’am,” Spencer stammers, swallowing his anxieties. “Can- Can I?” 

“Please, baby,” you groan, your hand reaching behind you to grab Spencer’s cock. He whimpers as you tug as it roughly, your movements haphazard due to the angle, but you’re lining him up with your hole. “You know what to do.”

It doesn’t take much effort for Spencer to press his cock into you. There’s uncertainty in his movements, but it feels like heaven as your cunt practically swallows him in. He fills you up so perfectly, his thickness rubbing against your walls in just the right way until he’s buried to the hilt, his bony hips pressed against the fat of your ass. “Oh! That feels good, baby.”

You clench around him, relishing the feeling, and then you hear a pathetic little whine from Spencer. “Hurts,” he says, in a weak, wet voice, and you want to both coo at him and fuck his brains out. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you soothe. “I’ll make it feel better, yeah?” 

“Please,” Spencer whimpers. “Need you.”

You lift yourself off of Spencer for a moment, pulling yourself off his cock before sinking back down on him. Spencer is big, not even knowing what he’s been gifted with when you had seen him for the first time. He fits so well inside of you, feeling so perfect as you fuck yourself on him. 

You would ask how he’s doing, but whimpers and moans liberally fall from his lips, and he’s holding onto your hips with a death grip, like he’ll lose all sense of himself if he isn’t holding onto you. His nails dig into your flesh, a delicious bite of pain through the pleasure of it all. 

“Pretty boy,” you groan. “You fill me up so good, holy fuck, oh my God–”

Spencer moans so loud your ears ring. “Feels good, so good, please–” 

“Fuck me, baby,” you gasp, your hips slowing on him. He chases after you like he can’t control himself, as he starts to thrust into you. “Yeah, just like that, baby. Fuck.”

Spencer whines again, chasing his own pleasure as he fucks into you. His hips slap against your ass hurriedly, eagerly, like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. “Fuck, oh, God–”

“You’re so deep inside of me, baby,” you groan, barely able to keep your voice steady. You reach for his hand, guiding it to splay out against your lower stomach, where his cock bulges with every thrust. He practically sobs. “You feel so good, darling.”

“Think– I’m gonna– Hhrghh– I’m not gonna last long,” Spencer finally gets the thought out, his genius clearly and understandably slashed when he’s buried in warm, wet pussy. You feel kind of proud of that. 

“Cum, baby,” you groan, not unaffected by Spencer’s eager, frantic fucking. “Inside of me.”

He lets out a pathetic little sob, one that turns you to no end, and then you feel Spencer coming inside, his load hot and messy as it paints your walls, filling you up. You clench around him at the feeling, so heady and overwhelming, and Spencer’s little whine at the pressure has you orgasming too. It’s a new kind of high, a perfect storm of pleasure filling every bone in your body. 

Spencer is warm and heavy as he half-falls on top of you, a sweetness to his movements as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His cock twitches inside of you but begins to soften. Your arms and legs feel like jelly, but you manage to coax him to lay down. His arms sling around your waist to hold you, and the position is surprisingly intimate. 

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. You turn around in his grasp, letting Spencer’s cock slip out of you. He whines a little, but smiles when you look up at him. Spencer repeats, sounding more earnest. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, baby,” you say, smiling, and lean forward to kiss him. It’s sweet, no heat behind it as you press your lips to his. Spencer seems to appreciate the affection, his thumb tracing little circles into your hip. “You were really good. Was that good for you too?”

“Couldn’t you tell from how fast and how hard I came?” Spencer laughs, seeming a bit shy. 

You coo, your hand cupping his cheek. “Even if you did, it was extremely endearing.”

“I think you just like corrupting me or something,” Spencer smiles, quirking his eyebrow.

You shrug, a teasing grin on your lips. “Maybe I do.”

[imaginedisish]

The Promise (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Short and sweet...or rather...incredibly spicy. Here's the *Logan catches you...touching yourself* fic. Couldn't think of a song until the end of writing this one. Went with "The Promise" by When in Rome. Also, if I'm messing up with the tag list I am so sorry. Anyway, ENJOY!

Summary: You want to relax after a long day, so you decide to let off some steam alone in your room. But, you're not as alone as you think. Logan can hear you loud and clear...and he's happy to help.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! SMUT!!! Masturbation (f!), oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), porn with NO PLOT, softdom!Logan, cocky!Logan, Logan is def not respecting personal space here, friends to lovers, feelings, afab!reader/fem!reader, cursing, prob some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 2,588 this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written

Finally. You’re in your room. Alone. Today had been exhausting. It was drill after drill, class after class, until your eyes stung and your muscles were beyond sore. But now, all there is to worry about is the mattress at your back and the blankets you’ve pulled up to your chin… 

…Save for that itch, that ache growing between your legs. You had been able to ignore it before, when Logan had you pinned to the wall during one of your drills in the danger room. He caged you in, arms above your head. Gotcha, princess, he whispered, and walked away. You tried to brush off the way your heart fluttered in your chest, tried to shove down the ache that was building in your belly. Logan was your friend—nothing more.

But now that you’re finally alone, it’s too much. You let your hand trail down your body, pushing past the waistband of your shorts and inside your panties. You close your eyes and think of Logan as your fingertips brush your clit. You picture him standing at the edge of your bed, climbing on top of you. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, working your clit, drawing tight circles, imagining it’s Logan’s hand instead—exploring your folds, spreading your slick, dipping his fingers into your entrance. You whisper his name as you think of him crawling down your body and settling in between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt. 

You imagine what his tongue feels like, lapping at you, flicking your clit. “Logan,” you moan, louder this time, thinking no one can hear you. 

Logan walks down the hall. He can hear your voice, soft and small through the slight crack in your door. You must’ve forgotten to close it all the way. It almost sounds like you’re singing, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought.

But then he hears his name. 

“Logan.” It’s a whisper, a faint call. He thinks maybe you can hear him down the hall—that maybe you need help, maybe something’s wrong. He steps towards your room, furrowing his brows as he listens carefully, using his heightened senses. 

“Logan,” you moan again. And he hears it all this time—hears your breathy whines, your legs pushing against the mattress. And fuck, he can smell you. Wet. Aching. His cock hardens at the thought of you getting off to him, his erection straining against his jeans. He walks closer to your door, his steps tentative and quiet. 

Your door is almost closed—the latch just touching the frame. The light from your room casts a thin line across the darkened hallway. It’s warm and glowy, and Logan can feel it pulling him in—can feel it begging him to push the door open and head inside. He holds himself back, resigning himself to listening to your soft murmurs and drunken mumbles. 

But then you’re calling his name again. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your circles quickening, your walls fluttering around nothing. You imagine him fucking into you, spreading you out and stretching you open. You wish he’d come in here and touch you, take you, make you feel good. 

Logan’s cock throbs, his jeans suddenly far too tight. He can tell you’re getting closer, your breathing becoming short and frantic. He knows he shouldn’t, but he pushes the door open just a touch more. You’re in the center of the bed, eyes shut tight, head thrown back, hand underneath the blanket and stuffed inside your panties. 

“N-need you,” you stutter. You need him to really touch you—need to feel his body against yours. Need to—

You suddenly hear your door shut, and your eyes fly open. 

Logan is at the edge of your bed, his hands pressing into the mattress, white-knuckling the sheets as he looks up at you under half-lidded eyes. 

“How long were you—” “I heard everything, pretty girl,” Logan growls, his shoulders tight, his brows furrowed. He’s holding back, restraining himself. “Heard you calling my name.” “I-I…” You trail off, heat spreading across your chest. You don’t know what to say, or how to get yourself out of this. 

“You what, princess?” Logan teases, climbing onto the mattress. “You want me that bad?” He slowly pulls the covers down, revealing your bare thighs. “Want me so bad you’re thinking about me when you touch yourself? Saying my name even when I’m not around?”

He tugs the blanket down farther, your legs on full display for him. “Logan,” you choke, catching your breath. “I didn’t mean to—”

But he’s crawling up your body, grabbing your legs, and tugging you down the mattress. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he soothes, his big hands pushing apart your legs, his palms splaying on the inside of your thighs. “I want you too.” His hands trail up to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking inside. “You want me to take care of you?”

You swallow harshly. “Y-yes,” you stammer. “Please.”

He strips your shorts and panties from your legs, casting them to the floor. “What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself, hm?” He asks, settling in between your thighs. He brings an arm up and over your hips, gluing your lower half to the mattress. 

“You,” you mumble. 

Logan cocks his head to the side and smirks. “I know that pretty girl,” he husks, his free hand sliding towards your core. “But what were you thinking about?” His thumb finally finds your clit and strokes lightly. 

“Th-that,” you moan as he draws tight circles around the bud. 

“Just this?” He asks teasingly, holding you down as you squirm involuntarily underneath him. 

“More…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as Logan’s circles become faster. 

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Logan demands, his touch slipping away. Your eyes flutter back open, and Logan’s thumb finds your clit again. “Now tell me what you want.”

You swallow harshly, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You need more, and you’ll take anything he’s willing to give you. “W-want your tongue,” you finally choke out. 

“Yeah?” Logan teases, bringing his face down to your heat. “This what you wanted?” He licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “That feel good?” He’s lapping at you, his tongue dragging through your slit, flicking your bud and drawing tight circles. 

“Yes,” you pant, struggling to keep your eyes open. His face is buried inside your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. The sight is unseemly: his disheveled hair, the way he’s swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Logan.”

He smirks against you. “Such a good pussy,” he mutters, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. “Tastes so fucking good.” His fingers trail up your inner thigh, climbing higher, finding your folds. 

“Please,” you beg, his gaze meeting yours. 

“Please what, princess?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes as he sucks on your clit again, rougher this time. Your eyes flutter shut. “Thought I told you to keep those pretty eyes open,” he commands, and you listen. 

“W-want your fingers,” you moan, forcing your eyes to stay open as Logan mercilessly flicks your clit with his tongue. 

And then he’s thrusting two long fingers deep inside you. You curse under your breath as he stretches you out. “So wet,” Logan growls against your core, pulling out only to shove his fingers back in—somehow deeper this time. “So beautiful like this, always so beautiful.”

Your walls flutter around him, his words weakening your resolve. He pumps in and out of you, his fingers scissoring deep inside. He takes your clit back between his lips and sucks long and hard, his teeth grazing your bud as he latches on and lets go. It’s overwhelming—the way he fucks into you, the way he laps at you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Lo,” you whine, clenching down on his fingers as he sinks deeper inside you. His pumps become faster, his fingers shoving in and out again and again. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes, the flick of his tongue goading you along. “Could smell how much you needed me from the hallway,” he says between laps. “Know you’re getting close for me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, his words driving you closer to the edge. It’s all too much. Him, suddenly being here, with you. Devouring you. Wanting you. Needing you. Yes, that’s it. Need. His face buried between your legs; his nose pressed just above your clit. His fingers dragging along your walls. He’s consuming you. Dying to be inside you—to be as close as he can possibly get. 

“That’s it, darlin’. Let go.”

And then you’re coming undone, pleasure wracking through your body, fire lighting down your spine. Everything is dizzying and warm, white-hot heat flooding your vision, stars dancing before your eyes. 

“Fuck,” Logan grunts against you, lapping up your juices. “So fucking good. Did so good for me.” His fingers slow inside you and gently pull out, but his tongue is still working at you. He pushes through your folds, savoring the taste of you. 

“Lo,” you groan, squirming underneath him. “Need you now.” 

“You have me,” he mutters against you, the vibrations of his voice wracking your already overstimulated clit. 

“But…” you trail off, the tension building back up between your legs. “N-need you. Please.” 

He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up at you. “Say it,” he demands, your release glistening on his chin. “Tell me exactly what you need.” He climbs up your body. “Go on,” he teases, hiking your shirt up your stomach, pushing it over your tits. He smirks when he sees that you have no bra on—your breasts bare before him. His hands trail up to your chest, massaging gently, pinching your nipples. 

You curse under your breath, instinctually spreading your legs. “Need you to fuck me,” you whisper, and Logan grins. 

His touch disappears from your body, his hands finding the hem of his beater as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. He’s perfect, his muscles flexing and contracting as he moves. “Need my cock, pretty girl?” He chides, working at his belt next, tossing it to the side. 

“Yes,” you pant, watching as he undoes his button and his zipper, yanking his jeans and boxers down his legs. His erection springs free, and he’s so much bigger than you had anticipated. You bite your lips nervously at the sight. 

Logan lowers himself down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand comes down to stroke your hip comfortingly. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, pressing his forehead to yours. His hand leaves your hip and wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. 

You shiver as his tip slides through your folds. He’s so close, his breath fanning across your face. He teases your slit, spreading your slick, nudging against your clit, and slides back down to your entrance.

 His lips finally find yours, swallowing your moans as he shoves himself deep inside you, down to the hilt with one thrust. “Fuck,” he grunts, his hand slipping between your bodies to find your clit. “Tight little pussy.” He slides out and plunges back in, drawing circles around your bud. “So fucking warm, so perfect,” he whispers against your lips, pressing another kiss as he sets his pace. 

He starts out slow, his hips rhythmically rocking against yours. He’s filling you up, splitting you open with every pump. You curse under your breath as his cock drags along your walls. “Feels so good, Lo,” you moan. 

His thumb strokes your clit as he fucks into you, faster now. He’s hitting that sweet spot deep inside with every thrust. “Is this what you were thinking about when you were getting yourself off, pretty girl?” Logan grunts, slamming into you. “Thinking about me fucking you just like this?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your muscles contracting around him. “Always thinking about you.”

Logan smiles against your lips, his eyes dark with lust as he pumps in and out. “Bet you wanted me to hear you,” he huffs, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his circles becoming rapid and frantic. “Bet you left that door open on purpose.”

You whine a yes as he pounds into you, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting your pulse point and kissing away the sting his teeth leave behind. You can feel yourself getting closer, already fucked out beyond all thought. All you can think about is Logan and the way he’s stuffing himself inside you, pushing deeper and deeper. 

“Needed you too, beautiful,” Logan whispers at the shell of your ear, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing against the walls of your room. “Needed you this whole time.” 

You wrap your legs around his waist, giving him more leverage to sink deeper inside you. Your arms find purchase around his back, your nails digging into his bare skin. Logan pinches your clit roughly in between his tight, rapid circles, and you moan his name.

“I know, darlin’,” he soothes, his hips bucking, his cock twitching inside you. “Can feel you squeezing me, know you’re already close.”

“Just feels so good,” you moan as he drills into you relentlessly. “Don’t want you to stop.” 

Logan chuckles darkly, flicking your clit. “Don’t think I can, pretty girl.” He twitches inside you again, and you know he’s close too. He throbs against your walls, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in. 

“Such a good fucking girl,” he praises. He’s still stretching you out with every pump, splitting you open. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” 

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your walls fluttering around him. You can feel yourself slipping, letting go as he slams into you. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” he coos, circling your clit. “Come on my cock, just like that.”

Logan thrusts into you again, bottoming out, and the tension snaps. Everything is bliss and searing pleasure. Hazy and blurred. It’s all too much, your eyes welling up as your orgasm rips through you. You blink back your tears. Logan kisses your forehead, his pace faltering as you come undone around him. 

“Wanted you this whole time,” he groans, his hips stuttering. “So fucking beautiful,” he husks. “So perfect.” You pull him closer as he comes inside you, filling you up and painting your walls. Logan moans your name, looking deep into your eyes as he finishes. 

His hips stall inside you, his thumb stroking your clit gently, riding out your orgasms, letting you down easy from your high. 

He notices the single tear sliding down your cheek and brings his hand up from your clit to wipe it away. “You okay?” He asks, concern painted across his face. He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your back to pull you into his chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed. “M’perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into the center of Logan’s chest. He rolls you onto your side, tugging you closer, his cock still half-hard inside you. “Can you stay with me?” You ask, your voice small and quiet, nervous that he might say no. 

“Not going anywhere, pretty girl,” Logan reassures, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise.” 

tags: @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @xlocalxpunkx @cervvsq @white-wolf-buckaroo @just-a-nightdreamer @wildfloweroutlaw @starfleetteddybear @prettyseaveins @silversprings-mp3 @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @wittyjasontodd @ilysmdovie12 @theasiaabattoir @movhoney @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader

sorry for being inactive yall teehee just thought about this cute little idea and had to write it... also no sex just a little spicy lmk if yall want to see more of this guy 🤭

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

you did not expect it to rain during your forest hike today. anticipation to dive into the lush green unknown was quickly turned into a wet mess as your scrambled to find shelter, unsure of where you were even going as the gps signal got weaker deeper into the forest you ventured. much to your surprise, you soon came upon a quaint winding road. following it lead to an ancient-looking manor straight out of the victorian era. despite your brain recounting that this was how every horror movie started, you were desperate to be out of the cold, and soon rushed to the grand door to seek warmth. luckily, someone answered the door. a tall, lanky, ghost of a man, who quickly invited you in and fretted over the prospect of you catching a cold. he was a little odd, speaking in such a proper, olden manner, but he was lovely.

despite your initial protests of overstaying your welcome, he managed to convince you to stay for a week. he invited you to join him for dinner everyday, and it was through these meals that you found out quite a lot about him. one, his name was kliff (you swore his face turned red when you said he had a handsome name), and that he was a vampire who was at least a hundred years old (he stopped counting after the 120th year). the way he revealed it was kind of adorable, he was so reluctant at first.

"sooooo, kliff. you're a vampire, right?"

"goodness, whatever gave you that idea? i most certainly am not." his face said otherwise as his eyes darted everywhere around the room but your gaze, and the tip of his ears turned red.

"and you're gay, right?"

"now THAT is an accusation!" he replied indignantly, now fully flustered. "i, a dignified gentleman, would never engage in such sinful acts."

"but i saw you peeking at me showering yesterday. pervert." you were having the time of your life teasing this poor fossil.

he stood up from the dinner table and paced around the room. "i did no such thing." he mumbled, face somehow steaming even more than you thought was humanly possible. wait, but he wasn't a human. nevermind.

you spent most of your week exploring his manor, poking around the various dusty bookshelves and artifacts of an era long bygone. if there was one thing you picked up from your exploration, it was that kliff was awfully lonely. and had been for a long time. he didn't seem to have had any romantic partners, probably due to his sexuality, nor any pets to keep him company. you could infer this from his clingy nature, he was constantly in the shadows observing you, blending in seamlessly using his powers. he thought he was being slick, but really, he was a rather clumsy vampire. whenever you caught him, he would always act oblivious, and give you a sheepish grin, before scurrying away. it was quite cute, really. another thing was the fact that he never asked to drink from you. "it is quite alright. i sustain myself well enough through other means." was all he said when you asked him about it. mysterious. almost like he didn't dare to taint your skin with his fangs. you decided not to tell him about the fact that you were aware he watched you when you were asleep in the guest room, sometimes even daring to climb into bed silently with you and bask in your presence. he was a lonely soul, you figured. you could let him be delusional for a bit. you would leave after this week, anyway.

but that week passed quick, and with each day, kliff seemed to grow even more on edge, getting nervous whenever he was around you but never daring to speak what was on his mind. brooding around the house, watching you silently as you attempted to grow something in his dying garden... oh it was bad for him. but this came all to a head on your last day, when you bid your goodbyes and were one foot out the door, and he suddenly gathered the courage to say something.

kliff threw himself at you in one final, desperate plea. "please... please don't go...." his tone was so pitiful, you stopped in your tracks and looked at the way he's grabbing your wrist so tightly. "i... i.... if i may, i have one final request."

"you want to drink from me? honestly, i'm surprised you didn't ask earlier."

"no, no... it's not that. it's the opposite, really. may i... may i humbly request that you..." he stops mid sentence and breaks eye contact to look at the ground, voice so soft you could barely hear him. "bite me instead..."

"i beg your pardon?"

"i would like for you to leave a mark on me. as a reminder of your presence." his tone is slightly more confident now as he meets your eyes, centuries-old desire rekindled and burning within them. he falters a bit as he notices your lack of response. "....please?" he mumbles pathetically.

oh, poor baby. he's wanted a man to love him all his life. luckily for him, you found his desperation cute. you drop your bag and take his hand in yours.

"want me to take the lead?" you squeeze his hand, and he nods shyly.

"i would like nothing more."

you gently, but firmly pin him to the nearest wall, the ancient manor creaking under the pressure. it's kind of poetic, kliff thinks, as he wilts under your touch, it sounds like my house is congratulating me. you start off by peppering fleeting kisses all across his neck, admiring the small noises of pleasure he made everytime your lips came into contact with his skin. the fleeting touches turned into harsher bites, as you nibbled at his delicate skin, so fragile and untouched. it was just like he fantasized, and he was in heaven. he gripped onto the wall for support as he gasped at the new sensation, writhing around as you marked him, but your strong hands on his waist kept him steadily in place, a feeling he quickly learnt to enjoy. all those years he spent in solitude seemed to culminate to this moment, he'd never felt more intimate with anyone in his life. you stepped back to look at your handiwork and he immediately collapsed into your arms, a dark purple hickey prominently showing on his neck. he stared up at you lovingly, unable to really form thoughts. "please don't go...." was all he could mutter as you slowly swayed him back and forth, soothing his cold, beating heart.

"guess i'll see you next week, hm?" he's never been happier to hear those words in his long life.

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Pairing: stalker!mafia!anakin x f!reader

Author's note: here we gooooo. Also, if you wanted me to add you to the tag list and I didn't, please remind me here. Tumblr doesn't show me every notification and I'm not sure if I caught everyone :((

Rain was coming down in sheets, slicking the pavement of the city streets while you, none important to the whole world, hurried your way home from your shift at the boutique. The cheapest umbrella you could afford in your hand, your grip tightening around it, although it was flimsy - barely holding up against the damned wind. Your free hand clunched the coat around your body as you cursed the weather over and over again. It was late--later than usual--and the city had taken on that eerie quiet it did, when most of the people in this city had already gone home for the night.

You didn’t see him, not at first. He was too good at hiding, too practiced at blending into the shadows. But ANAKIN SKYWALKER was indeed there, as he had been every night for the past few months; watching you from a specific, constantly changing distance. Those too captivating blue eyes tracked every move you made, cherishing the way your hair clung to your damp skin, the way you shivered against the cold temperature.

You were a creature of unchanging habits - something he grew to admire about you.

It was so simple -- every day, you left your tiny apartment at precisely 7:45 AM, walked the same route to the boutique where you worked, and spent your day folding clothes and helping customers. You were polite, even kind, but there was sadness in your eyes that Anakin found himself obsessing over. What had hurt you? Who had dared to shatter the light in your eyes?

He had to know. He had to protect you.

Tonight was different, he was closer than usual, close enough that he could almost reach out and touch you if he wanted. But he didn’t. Not yet. It wasn't the right time. He had learned patience over the years - something that wasn’t easy for a man like him. But for you, he would wait.

As you rounded a corner, a gust of wind blew your umbrella inside out, and you let out a frustrated groan. Muttering curses under your breath, you gave up on the umbrella and tossed it into a nearby trash can. You were soaked now, hair sticking to your face, coat heavy with rain, and all you wanted was to be home, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea..or warm milk. Both options were tempting

But then you noticed something-- or rather someone following you.

Your heart began to race, and you quickened your pace, glancing over your shoulder time to time. You couldn’t see anyone, but the feeling was there, crawling up your spine, getting into your head..

You were being watched.

Anakin saw the moment fear gripped you like a vance, saw how your eyes widened, how your breathing became shallow. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. He didn’t want you to be afraid, especially not of him. But he knew he couldn’t stay hidden any longer, not when you were so close to panicking.

Stepping out of the shadows, he called out, “Are you alright, miss?”

You jumped at the sudden sound, spinning around on your heal to face him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in an expensive, perfectly tailored suit. Underneath you could see a white shirt.

Oh, so he's a rich

His face - flawless, smooth, beautiful yet, in a way, it seemed dangerous, like he was nothing but trouble. He didn’t look like someone who belonged in a dark alley like the one you were in. In fact, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. His hair was slightly damp from the rain, and a few stray curls clung to his forehead. And those eyes, a striking shade of blue, were fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“I--um--i--i’m fine,” you stammered, taking a hesitant step back. “Just trying..to get home.”

Anakin smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s dangerous out here alone at this hour,” voice smooth, almost soothing. “Let me walk you home. It’s not safe.”

You hesitated. There was something about him that made you uneasy, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. He was handsome, almost impossibly so, but there was an edge to him, something dark lurking beneath the surface.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to sound confident. “My apartment is just a few blocks away.”

“Yet I’ll feel better knowing you made it home safely,” he insisted, stepping closer. His presence was strangely overwhelming, and you weren't sure if you liked it or not. “Please. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.”

His concern seemed genuine, and in the back of your mind, you knew that refusing him might be a mistake. Reluctantly, you nodded. “Okay…umm--thank..you.”

Anakin’s smile widened, but there was still something unsettling in his eyes as he fell into step beside you. He didn’t say much as you walked, just made idle conversation about the weather, asking about your job at the boutique. He was charming, attentive, but again, there was something weird about him.

When you finally reached your apartment building, you turned to thank him, but the words died on your lips. Anakin was staring at you with such intensity that made your skin prickle.

“Goodnight, miss,” he said softly, voice like velvet. “I’ll see you around.”

Before you could respond, he was already walking away, disappearing into the night as quickly as he had appeared. There was something about him that suspiciously drew you in, even as every instinct screamed to stay away.

As you got into your apartment, you exhaled. Throwing your bag to the side, kicking your shoes away and freeing your hair from an already painful pony, you were sure you were alone, with none watching you

Little did you know, Anakin was indeed still watching, he never did stop. He had seen the way your eyes lingered on him, the way your breath hitched when he got too close ~ it was delicious, better than any dessert/appetizer he had ever had in his life.

You were drawn to him, even if you didn’t realize it yet. And soon, he would make sure that you were his.

No one else could have you. Not now. Not ever.

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[moonstruckme]

Hi,

I love your writing and your ideas.I was worried if you could write sth about remus as a detectiv. Maby he and reader meet on the job or they are partners.Do whatever you want. Hope this inspires you💗

Hi back! I love this idea and I lowkey thought I was gonna do better with it (I'm less thrilled with the results, sorry) but I hope you like it <3

cw: mention (and some vague flashback) of robbery

detective!Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Thunder booms, and you flinch. The detective’s eyebrows lift a millimeter. You pull his jacket closer over your wet clothes, embarrassed. 

“Can I make you some tea?” he offers. 

“No, thank you.” 

You sit in silence for a few heartbeats. The detective seems comfortable with it, but you squirm, his gaze too discerning for your liking. The rain you’ve both come in from has slicked a few tendrils of hair to his forehead, the rest fighting valiantly to curl at the ends. His face is scattered with scars you’d expect more from a hardened military type than a cop, and the circles under his eyes hint at more than one long night spent at the station. Nights probably not unlike this one, only a smattering of police around as he interviews you at his desk.

“Officer—” 

“Remus,” he reminds you gently. 

“Right, sorry.” Your voice quiets. Remus’ expression softens, going tender like he wants to reject your apology, but he doesn’t speak. “Don’t you have questions for me?” 

“I do,” he says, “but—I hope you’ll excuse me for saying—you seem rather shaken up.” 

A laugh, short and humorless, puffs out of you. 

“I’m not saying I don’t understand why.” His calm gaze doesn’t leave yours. “Witnesses are generally more reliable once they’ve had a chance to get comfortable, though. Process what they’ve seen.” 

Your fingers twist in the material of his jacket. You wonder if he takes your trembling for a traumatic response. It might be, you don’t know; your heart is hammering, but it’s also just cold in here. 

“How am I supposed to do that?” you ask. 

“Just like this.” One corner of Remus’ mouth lifts, just a little. You think of the classic good-cop-bad-cop routine from TV shows. You doubt they bother doing that with witnesses, but Remus seems so approachable you’re half wondering when his worse half will come in. “Chatting. Coming down from the adrenaline. Letting me get you tea.” 

“I’m really okay,” you say, doing your best to return his small smile. 

Remus’ warms in response. “As you like. Let’s start from the beginning, yeah? We can take breaks whenever you want.” 

You nod, preparing yourself. 

“What were you doing at the supermarket?” 

“I was…shopping?” Your response seems so obvious you turn it into a question unintentionally. Remus’ expression conveys understanding. He leans forward, setting his elbows on the desk casually. 

“I know it seems unimportant,” he says, “but I’m trying to get a full picture. What were you shopping for?” 

“Oh. Um, I was out of peanut butter.” 

“Was it raining when you went in?” 

You frown. He has to know the answer to that; it’s been raining all evening. “Yes.” 

“What did you do once you got there?” 

“I went to find the peanut butter. I was just barely going to the till when I…when the robbery happened.” 

You don’t realize you’ve mirrored Remus’ posture until his finger touches yours. You’re sitting with your elbows on the desk also, your hands millimeters from his. 

“How did you know it was happening?” Remus asks gently. “Did you see it, or was there a sound?” 

“A sound,” you confirm, your voice wavering a bit. The tip of his forefinger brushes against yours again. “The woman at the till shouted.” 

“What made her shout?” 

“I guess because he showed her the knife.” 

“Did you see that as well?” 

“Yeah. But not right then. She’d already opened the till by the time I got there.” 

The images in your head are already hazing over, memory fading into fiction. The way the employee’s short, frightened cry had made you look up from your phone, freezing you in your tracks just outside the refuge of an aisle. The man hadn’t known there was anyone else in the store. That was clear by the way his eyes widened above his surgical mask, swiveling impulsively to point the knife at you, wavering between two targets. The three of you caught together in a mess of panic. 

You don’t remember doing it, but later you found you’d set your jar of peanut butter down on a random shelf, as though that simple offering would appease the robber and save you any further trouble. 

“What was the person with the knife wearing?” Remus asks. 

“He had a blue jacket, like a windbreaker.” You put your chin to your shoulder, feeling the slick material of the jacket draped over your shoulders. A thoughtless, sleepy movement. “Sort of like this one. Without the police logo, obviously.” 

“About how tall would you say he was?” 

You shrug. “Taller than me. He wasn’t huge, but he was…I don’t know, he had a knife.” 

Remus hums, his finger stroking across your knuckle. He must have moved his hand closer without you noticing. “That must have been frightening.” 

You shrug again. 

He lets you stew in another long, heavy silence. Your face begins to feel hot. 

“Are you alright?” he finally asks, softly. 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “Sorry. Just, you’re right, it was scary.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” Remus’ gaze is warm. Compassionate. “I’m sure you’re tired, I don’t mean to keep you here any longer than necessary. You’ve been a big help. If it makes you feel any better, we’ve been following a robber matching this description for a while, and he doesn’t tend to repeat within the same neighborhood. So you shouldn’t worry.” 

Oh, he’s so kind. He thinks you’re all quiet and shy because you need comfort. And of course, you are rattled still, but it’s got a thing or two to do with that low voice, with those lovely, deep hazel eyes that seem soldered to yours. If Remus wants to improve your memory, he should probably stop touching your hand like a Victorian gentleman testing the bounds of propriety. 

“Do you have any more questions for me?” you ask. 

“A few,” he says, apology in his tone. “Are you sure you wouldn't like anything warm to drink? You’re shivering terribly.” 

You feel very warm, actually, but when his finger moves to your second knuckle the shivers worsen. “Um, sure. I’d have a cup of tea.”

[starsinthesky5]

down bad || joe burrow x reader

description: you and joe go to your best friend’s wedding and it’s very clear that you both are soo down bad for each other ;)

a/n: bye i cannot believe i wrote this in 3.5 days because I was SO excited to write it. it’s just so 🤭 it’s definitely somethingggg 🤭🤭 also am i like one of the only people who thinks headband joe is peak joe. like his hair right now is amazing, but headband joe just makes me melt.

warnings: smut, language, and more smut, you both are perpetually horny

word count: 8.5 k

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

“Joe!” You moaned as you felt the hot shower water dripping down your body. Joe’s head fell to the crook of your neck, sucking the soft skin which would be sure to leave a purple mark. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” you cried as he pounded into you, your body starting to feel sore since you have had your arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist for a good half hour. He was helping you out by holding you up, but everything about what was happening in the shower made you feel sore, in a good way of course. 

“Y/N…” he groaned. “Fuck, you feel so good,”. 

You felt a familiar sensation in your stomach as he continued to thrust into you, his grip on your waist tightening.“I’m close,” you whisper as you throw your head back against the shower wall.

“Shit, hang on for me baby,” Joe said as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, pushing you up against the wall each time. You whined at the feeling of him pushing himself deeper inside of you, which you thought was impossible. 

“Joe,” you whimpered again. “Right there,”. Joe’s rapid pace and deep thrusts were pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm, his cock grazing your g-spot. 

You move one of your hands into his wet curls and push him closer to your face, capturing him in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you. One particularly rough thrust causes you to break away. You felt the rubber band in your core snap as were clenching around his cock, “Joe,” you moaned into his ear as you came. 

“Y/N,” he moaned as he felt himself reaching his own pleasure. A few more thrusts later, you felt hot spurts of his cum fill your slick core as his head dropped down to your shoulder again, pressing soft kisses on your collarbone. 

As the water continued to rain down on you both, Joe and You stood in each other's arms, your bodies entwined in the lingering heat of your love. You knew that in that moment, there was no place you would rather be than together, lost in the blissful embrace of the shower.

“I love you,” he pants while pressing a few more kisses on your lips.

“I love you too,” you say back with a smile.

A little while later, you're standing in front of the bathroom mirror in your pink robe as you inspect the new purple marks littered around your neck. 

Joe walks up behind you, cupping the nape of your neck with his hand and rubbing it. “Sorry about that,” he softly says. 

You look back at him and smile, “It’s Okay, I’m used to it by now,”. 

What was supposed to be a quick shared shower before packing for your best friend's wedding in New York this weekend had turned into another one of your many unplanned romps. 

“I should’ve known this would’ve happened if we showered together. Every damn time we say we’ll take a quick shower, I end up with a limp,” you giggle while leaning back into his warm body. 

“Can’t keep my hands off of you. You know that,” he whispers into your ear lightly before lightly kissing the marks on your neck. 

You playfully roll your eyes as you move forward and walk into Joe’s closet. You weren’t living with him just yet, but by the looks of his closet, you basically were. 

You were bringing Joe as your plus 1 to your bestie’s wedding this weekend during the Bengals Bye Week and came over to Joe’s house to pack since he hated packing and needed you to keep him company. You had only been dating for 4 months but were already acting like a married couple according to your friend, and you were starting to see why she said so. 

Flashback to a few weeks ago

“So, you’re bringing Joe?” she asked, a little surprised since you’d only been dating for a few months and you never brought a guy to your friends this early, especially since you lived a little far away from them. 

“Mhm,” you responded while putting the phone on speaker as you were attempting to find your keys to Joe’s house in his driveway while he was away at practice. 

“Already the plus 1? Damn, he has you whipped,” she giggles. 

You roll your eyes and say, “Really funny Sophia,”. 

“Am I on speaker? Your voice is echoing,” she questions.

“Yeah, I'm trying to find my keys,”.

She stays silent for a second before saying “You’re in his driveway aren’t you,” with a big smile she wished you could see. 

“Maaaybee,” you trail. 

“God, get married already. You’re always over at his place, just move in Mrs. Burrow,” she teases. 

You laugh and say, “That’s because it’s most convenient. You know my apartment is a good half hour away from him. Besides, I thought you liked Joe,”

“Oh, I do, even though I've only met him a few times. I’ve never seen you happier, I'm just surprised you’re actually bringing him,” Sophia says. 

“Honestly, me too. But it feels right. And he’s very excited to go with me which makes it even better,” you say as you finally find the keys. 

End of flashback 

Joe joins you in the closet and watches you pack your stuff for this weekend in your suitcase. Along with your basic necessities, you pack several party dresses, heels, your wedding day look, and a bunch of accessories. 

“Damn, I never knew girls needed so much stuff for 3 days,” he laughed. 

You turned around and gave him a look that had him immediately retreating.“Not that it’s a bad thing,” he says while raising his hands to soften the blow. 

You break out into a laugh and say, “Calm down Joey, I’m jussst kidding,” as you walk over to him and kiss him before moving behind him to grab his suitcase. 

“You’re turn,” you say as you drop the bag at his feet. 

“I hate packing,” he frowns.

“That’s why I’m here baby. Here to keep ya company,” you smile before sitting in the comfy armchair in the corner. 

He lets out a defeated sigh as he begins packing his things and you watch him the entire time. He was doing something so simple as packing but looked incredibly delicious while doing so. His wet hair flopping around, his bare chest on display, and his shorts hanging low on his waist and showing off his blonde treasure trail. 

He catches you staring deeply at him and smirks. “Like what you see?”.

“You know I do,” you say as you cross your legs in the chair. 

“You know, we coulddd go back to bed,” he offers.

“Nice try Burrow. Packing comes first.”

“Damn,” he whispers. He finishes packing all of his things for the weekend, similar to you. Basic necessities, some nice shirts, pants, and jackets; also packing his wedding day outfit and a few of his favorite shades. 

“Always with the shades huh?” You tease. 

“If you can bring 20 different kinds of earrings, I can bring my shades,” he deadpans. 

“Alright alright, that’s fair,” you say as you get up and walk over to him to inspect his packing, making sure it’s not a complete mess. Satisfied with the way he packed his things, you move your face closer to his ear and whisper, “Now, if you’re done, is that ‘back to bed’ offer still on the table?”.

Joe immediately puts down his bag and reaches for your legs, picking you up bridal style, and rushes you to his bed. He softly drops you against the silk sheets before untying your robe and moving in between your legs. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” you giggle and you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to your lips for a sweet kiss. 

“We can’t be too rough though, I’m still a little sore from the shower and we have an early flight to New York tomorrow,”. 

He plants another soft kiss on your lips, “No worries babe, soft and gentle is one of my specialties,”. You watch as he kisses down to your core, closing your eyes in anticipation of what is to come. 

The next day

The ring of your alarm wakes you up early the next morning. You reach over and turn it off before turning to face Joe, who looks incredibly adorable and still asleep. His head was angled towards you, his messy bedhead hair was sprawled out against the pillow, his soft golden skin looked flawless, his lips curled up in a smile, and his bare chest was littered with a few purple marks from last night on display. He looked absolutely gorgeous at 6:00 am and you were jealous since you probably looked like a hot mess. 

You leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose, hoping to wake him up. Lucky for you, it worked.

“Morning sunshine,” you whispered.

He groans, barely opens his eyes, and mumbles “Morning Baby,”. 

You felt your core throb at the sound of his morning voice but immediately gave yourself a mental lashing since you were sore from last night and you guys have a flight at 8:00 to NYC. His morning voice and bare chest combo made you weak in the knees so early in the morning. 

After laying in bed for 10 minutes to give Joe a chance to fully wake up, you both hit the shower again. This time, actually showering with no funny business. Joe loads up the car to head to the airport but makes a quick pit stop at your favorite coffee shop to grab you both some breakfast. 

You guys were on the way to the airport as you were reading off the events and itinerary for the weekend. “Okay, tonight we have the rehearsal dinner and then the party at the club after,” you say as you feel Joe’s hand migrate to your thigh, a familiar spot for it. 

“Sounds like fun,” he says while giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Then tomorrow we have the wedding and reception. And then the next day she said she planned a brunch for close friends so it’ll just be a small group of people,” you conclude.

He nods his head as he continues to caress your thigh. “So what do you think of Steven?” You ask Joe. Steven is Sophia’s fiancée and Joe has only met him a handful of times. 

“He’s a good guy,” he says. “We actually have a good bit in common and he’s a big football guy,” Joe says, turning the car into the airport entrance. 

“He likes the Eagles right?” You question.

“Yup,” he says.

“That tracks, you know Sophia’s a big Eagles fan,”.

“Oh I know, so are you,” Joe says giving you a look.

You look back at him, a little offended, and say, “Aye, slow down buddy. Were. Were an Eagles fan. My loyalty has changed, and I look better in orange anyway,”

“Oh I know,” he smirks, his mind flashing back to all the times he’s seen you in your adorable little gameday outfits. You and Joe had been dating since a bit before the season started and had been getting to know each other throughout the summer. When the first game of the season rolled around, Joe insisted that you come and watch him play. You were a little hesitant at first since you knew that a lot of people would be there, many of whom would notice a random girl in Joe Burrow’s suite, but ultimately said yes because you wanted to support your boyfriend in any way possible. 

Your first gameday outfit consisted of a black Bengals-themed baseball jersey which had ‘Burrow’ and ‘9’ on the back and ‘Bengals’ on the front. You left the buttons open and had a white crop top on underneath, with your favorite jean shorts. He loved your first gameday outfit, but the accessories made it even better. You had gotten an iced-out ‘9’ necklace and a vintage Bengals baseball cap you had on backward to pull the look together. You had him drooling the entire day and he couldn’t wait to get you alone, and when he did, you could hardly think or walk straight after. 

Flashback to Week 1

You were sitting inside the Burrow suite while the boys were warming up on the field before changing into uniforms. You were scanning the field to hopefully get a glimpse of your boyfriend but couldn’t find him. It's been about an hour since you drove over with his parents and hadn’t gotten a chance to see Joe yet, and you were feeling a little sad because you thought you’d have to wait till the end of the game. 

You heard the suite door open as you were trying to find your lipgloss in your bag and thought it was just his parents coming back from their tailgate. You felt a big pair of hands wrap around your waist and a warm mouth press a kiss on your cheek. 

You let out a shriek and immediately turned around, panicking because you thought it was some random creep, but it was in fact just your boyfriend.

“Woah Y/N. Calm down, it’s just me,” Joe soothes.  

You relax your muscles and let out a sigh, “Whew, I thought some rando creep found their way into the suite,”. 

“Nah, just me,” he laughs. 

You furrow your brows, slightly confused at what he is doing up here, “Wait, why aren’t you down there?” you say as you point to the field.

“I just had to make sure you were doing okay. I know this is all new for you and I want you to feel as safe and relaxed as possible,”. 

Your eyes soften at his response, “Awww that’s so sweet,” you say while wrapping your arms around his neck, a whiff of sweat making you grimace. “Ohhh that lovely football smell,”.

“Sorry about that,” he says while pulling you in for a kiss. 

He pulls away after a few seconds, observing your adorable gameday outfit that he was seeing for the first time. His eyes got stuck on the ‘9’ necklace. “And that is how people will know you’re my girl,” he says while touching the necklace. 

“Glad you like the fit,” you smile. 

“Oh, I love the fit. I could get used to this,” he winks. 

“Me too,” you say as your eyes travel around the room, taking in the feeling that this could very well be a constant thing in your life from now on. 

Joe looks at the time and his face drops, “I gotta go get ready now,”.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine Joe,” you say while rubbing the back of his neck. 

He lets out a sigh, “Okay, but if you need anything, and I mean anything, ask my parents or come sit down by the locker room if things get overwhelming,”. 

“Okayy,”. “Now go back down there before they accuse me of hogging their star QB,” you tease. 

“Really funny babe,” he says while pulling you in for a hug. He pulls away before giving your forehead a sweet kiss and walking towards the door to head back to the field. “Knock ‘em dead shiesty,” you yell as he gives you a smile before leaving the suite. 

Although you were anxious about being noticed by thousands of people, you were having the time of your life. As time passed, you became more and more engaged in the game, screaming and shouting whenever Joe would throw a dime or a big-time play would happen. You didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought anymore and were not afraid to show people that you were his girl. And Joe noticed. Each time he would look up at the suite, he would see you jumping up and down with his family and looking incredibly focused on him; this was the ultimate motivator for him because he knew his girl was watching. 

End of flashback 

Joe parked the car in the lot while you got all your stuff together before boarding his private jet to New York. 

“Ahh, I can never get tired of this,” you sigh as you slip off your Uggs and lay back onto the cushioned chair. Joe drops down onto the seat across from you and immediately pulls your legs into his lap, massaging your feet. 

“You’re so cute,” he mumbles while giving you a warm smile. 

You brush your hair out of your face before sending him a flying kiss, “You are even cuter,”. 

You both ended up taking a power nap during the short flight to New York and woke up about an hour before you landed. Since you had some time to kill, Joe pulled out his Nintendo Switch and convinced you to play a round of smash-bros with him. 

“Noooo,” you whined as you just lost for the 2nd time in a row. Joe let out another laugh as he watched you struggle to digest that you sucked at Smash-Bros. 

“You’re laughing now, but once it’s time for Mario Kart, it is game over Burrow,” you growl. 

“Maybe, but at least I put up a fight in Mario Kart. You basically gave up halfway,” he laughed as he placed the controller down and grabbed his phone, opening his notes app to add to the win-loss ratio list you had going. You and Joe both had somewhat competitive natures and loved to play silly little games whenever you could, so you suggested you keep a tally of how many times each of you won or lost a game of anything. At the end of the year, the loser has to do whatever the winner wants them to do for a whole day. 

“What’s the tally right now?” You asked.

“34-45. I’m winning,” he smirks. 

“Damn,” you whisper. “It’s okay. I still have all of this month to get myself back on top,”.

“You can be on top whenever you want, just say the word,” he teases while motioning to his dick. 

Your eyes widen at his words as you grab a pillow from behind you and chuck it at his face. “Are you always horny?”.

“Well, when I'm with my drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, I can’t help it,” he shrugs. 

Drop dead gorgeous? You looked like a sack of potatoes right now, wearing one of his old LSU sweatshirts that was too big on you, black sweats, messy hair in a claw clip, and your glasses on. “Joe, I look like a mess right now,” you say as you pull the hood of his sweatshirt over your head. 

“Well if you’re a mess, you’re the mess I want,” his face immediately scrunching up. “I don’t think that came out the way I thought it would,”.

You smiled, got up from your chair, and moved over to his lap, pressing a soft kiss on his smooth cheek. “I know what you mean,”. 

A few hours later 

After your plane lands, you both head over to Joe’s New York penthouse you’ll be staying for the weekend. You both unpack all your things and start to get ready for the night. 

You’re finishing up your makeup as you watch Joe walk into the bathroom, seemingly looking for his hairbrush. You look at him up and down in the mirror and he looks incredible. He’s wearing his black jeans, a plain white short-sleeve tee which showed off his bulging muscles, and his navy blue jacket in hand. He walks over to the sink and runs his hands through his hair, like usual, to perfect it. 

“Can’t find your brush?” You question while fixing your hair. 

“Nah, but it’s fine. This should do it,” he says as he pushes a few stray strands back. He turns around and feels slightly flushed as he looks you up and down. You were wearing a short baby pink dress that hugged your body in all the right places, strappy white heels, and an ensemble of jewelry which was all gifted to you by Joe. 

“Baby..” he breathes out, struggling to move from where he was standing. You looked absolutely sexy and he felt like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him, much like how he’d feel when that happened out on the field. 

You do a little twirl to show off your outfit, “You think it looks good?”. 

“Good?” He says as he walks over to you. “Looks fucking amazing,” he mumbles as he pulls you in for a kiss, one hand cradling your head and the other migrating to your ass. He gives it a delicate squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

You pull away and press your forehead against his, “We gotta behave tonight Joe,” you giggle. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says before giving you another kiss. 

You both finish up and then head out to the wedding venue just outside of the city for the dinner. You and Joe walk into the venue, hand in hand, and you’re in awe of how beautifully everything is decorated. The warm fairy lights that were all around the room made everything glow and highlighted the most captivating elements. 

You looked ahead and caught a glimpse of Sophia and released yourself from Joe’s grasp, immediately running over to her. 

“There’s the bride!” You yell. 

Her face instantly lights up as she sees you. She runs to meet you halfway, tackling you in a tight hug. “I misseddd youuu! Cincy stole you away,” she squeals as she sways you back and forth. 

Joe walks over behind you both, smiling at the cute interaction. 

Sophia opens her eyes and sees Joe standing behind you and lets go of you. “And here is the reason why Cincinnati stole you away,” she teases. 

“Guilty,” Joe says while giving her a salute. 

“Hey Joe,” she says while giving him a friendly hug. 

“Hey Sophia,” he smiles, hugging her back. You have a huge grin on your face as you watch your two favorite people get along, it’s the best feeling in the entire world. 

“What are you smiling at?” Sophia questions as she pulls away to wrap her arm around your shoulder. 

“Just happy that my favorite people get along,” you sing song. 

“Remember, she was mine first Burrow,” Sophia giggles, causing Joe to scoff and gently pull you into him as Sophia’s fiancée walks in behind her. 

“Well, I’m incredibly lucky to have her now, and hopefully forever,” he says as he stares lovingly into your eyes. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst at his words, add to the fact that his strong grip on your waist was making you feel butterflies in all the right places. You felt yourself getting lost in his deep blue eyes as you both were just stuck staring at each other. 

Sophia smiles at the sweet words that came out of Joe’s mouth for you and notices the way he’s looking at you and holding you. It’s like you were the only person in the room, like you were a diamond. “Aye, snap out of it love-birds,” Sophia claps as her fiancée joins you all. 

“Whoops, Sorry about that,” you blush. “Hey Steven!,”. 

“Sup, Steven,” Joe says as he lets go of you to greet your friend's Fiancée. 

You all have a small reunion and spend a few minutes catching up and talking about wedding details before the other guests start to arrive. The rehearsal dinner was great as you got to catch up with your old friends from home and got the chance to finally introduce Joe formally to some of them. 

Currently, You and Joe were sitting together in your own little corner at the table as a few speeches were being delivered, his hand once again on your thigh, and your hands wrapped around his, softly caressing his golden skin. You leaned your head onto his shoulder as you melted into his touch. 

“You alright?” He whispers, noticing the change in your body language. 

“I’m amazing,” you whisper back. 

“Good, we still have a long night ahead of us,” he laughs before planting a few kisses on your forehead. 

About an hour later, the wedding party makes its way back into the city to a club in the Upper East Side. 

Loud music and bright strobe lights fill the room as you take another shot of tequila at the bar with your friends. Joe was across the room with Steven and the rest of the boys, also taking shots but less frequently than you and the girls. You’re slightly buzzed, maybe a little more than slightly actually. 

“Come on, let’s go dance,” Sophia yells as she pulls you into the dance floor. 

You and the girls start dancing in the crowd, having the most fun when you hear the song change, which immediately causes you and Sophia to scream. 

“This is our song!” She screams. The song had just changed to ‘Blow’ by Kesha, a song that you had very fond memories of in high school. 

“Oh yeah,” you yell as you throw your head back and hands in the air. 

Joe watches you carefully from across the room as you dance with your friends, looking incredibly stunning and sexy while doing so. The tent in his pants was a sure sign that he was going to struggle for a few minutes. His eyes never leave you as he sips his drink while still talking to the boys. 

You keep dancing around with your girls as you feel a pair of eyes watching you. You turn around to where Joe was and obviously, it was him. You give him a playful nod and stare right back at him, still dancing like nothing mattered. 

“Damn, Y'all can’t be away from each other even for a little,” Sophia laughs. 

“I think I’m torturing him by being out here, especially dressed like this,” you giggle. 

“Y’all are soo Down bad,” she yells but you barely notice what she said as you hear the song change again. This time, to one of your and Joe’s favorite songs, ‘Feel So Close’ by Calvin Harris. 

You immediately look back at him, motioning him to come over with just a simple look. He smiles at the song change and doesn’t hesitate to get off the barstool, places his drink on the counter, and walks over to the dance floor. You turn around and keep dancing as you suddenly feel a familiar warmth behind you. Joe presses himself into your back as you dance back into him, making his boner even worse than before. 

You both were caught up in the moment as the loud music and flashing lights created a special scene around you both. Although you were in a room filled with people, right now it just felt like you two out there, dancing the night away. Joe placed his hands on you and slid them down your waist as you threw your head back into his chest. 

You felt the tent in his pants on your ass, causing you to let out a giggle, “Got you worked up, didn’t I?”

“You look amazing,” he whispers into your ear before fully wrapping his arms around your waist, turning you so you could face him. You were a little breathless as you closed the space between you both, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss while your hands wrapped around his neck. 

“Let’s get outta here,” he says breathlessly as he pulls away. You nod your head as he lets go of you. You walk over to where Sophia is and let her know that you’re heading out and that you’ll see her tomorrow.

“Me and Joe are going to head out,” you pant. She gives you a smirk and says, “Mhm, called it,”. You’re confused by her words, “Called what?”.

“You both couldn’t even last 2 hours in the club before getting so worked up over each other that you’d have to leave before the party was over,” she giggled. 

You felt a little red as she said that. Damn, she was right. You don’t know what it was about Joe that made you act like this or what about you that made him act like this, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

“If you want me to stay, I can,” you say as you brush a few stray pieces of hair out of your face. 

“No, it’s alright,” she smiles. “It’s getting pretty late anyways, you guys should go rest,” she says.

“Are you sure?”.

“Positive. He makes you happy Y/N, I can see it. Go have fun, but not too much fun,” she winks.

You pull her in for a hug and tell her that you’d absolutely help her get ready for the big day tomorrow morning. 

You make your way back over to Joe, who has moved closer to the exit. He grabbed your hand and placed it in his, “I called Uber, you ready?”. 

“Yup,” you say while giving him a kiss. 

Both of you were wrapped up together in the backseat of the Uber. Your head once again on his shoulder, and his resting on top of your head. His arm was wrapped around you, and his hand was absentmindedly softly rubbing your arm. Your right leg was wedged in between his as his free hand was rubbing up and down your lower leg. Everything about this was comforting for you both. It felt so peaceful and natural.

Once you’ve arrived at the apartment, Joe helped you out of the Uber since you were a bit too drunk and were wobbling around; he was terrified that you’d fall in the heels you were wearing. 

He slowly helped you into the elevator and you moved to stand behind him. He pressed the number of the floor you were supposed to be on and immediately turned back around to face you as the door closed.

He looks into your eyes for a few heartbeats before leaning in and capturing your lips in a delicate kiss which you both grin into. Once again, your hands find their home wrapped around his neck, and you stay like this until the door opens again. 

A few minutes later, you both are back inside the apartment and are in the process of getting unready. You feel a gush of wetness pool your core as you catch a glimpse of Joe’s bare chest as he just got out of the shower. He looked so desirable and his bare chest always got you worked up.  

You walk over to him, take his hand, and lead him back to the bed. “What are you doing?” He questions.

“What I’ve been wanting to do all night,” you say as you push him back onto the bed, straddling his waist. You capture his lips in a fiery kiss as his hands grip your waist again. You slowly grind on his shorts, making him way more horny than he was before. You push your hand down to his dick and start palming him through his shorts when he suddenly flips you both over so that he’s on top, leaving you a little dizzy. 

“Hm?” You question his sudden change of mind.

“You can do that another time, I wanna make you feel good tonight,” he says. 

You don’t have a chance to argue with him since he starts to peel off your tank top; his lips finding the sweet spot on your neck, making you flutter your eyes as you let out a whimper. 

He moves down and presses a few wet kisses on your belly before getting right to business, sliding off your shorts and underwear. 

“Oh,” you moan as you feel him blow on your core which was already wet from earlier. 

He lets out a laugh before he moves closer to your core, attacking your folds with sloppy kisses. Your hands find themselves in his hair again as you pull on the strands. “Joe,” you whimper. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers as he goes back to lapping at your slick core. He takes one of his fingers and pushes them inside your heat which makes you let out another moan. The combination of his mouth and fingers, along with the alcohol in your system was making you feel like you were levitating. “Fuck,” you whined. 

He continued to pump his finger into your core as his mouth attached itself to your clit, rhythmically sucking on it. He inserts another finger, stretching you out even more which causes you to arch your back. His free hand pushes your belly back down to the bed as he continues to attack your core. 

“Baby,” you moaned while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt a familiar warmth in your lower belly, signaling that you were very close. 

“I’m close,” you whispered, pushing your head further back into the pillow. You continue to pull on his hair which causes him to groan against your core, sending vibrations throughout your body. 

His fingers pick up the pace as his mouth is replaced by his thumb. He rubs circles around your clit while continuing to pump into you, which intensifies the entire experience. A few seconds later, you’re cumming hard and fast. “Joe,” you loudly moaned. He removed his fingers from your core and his mouth begins lapping up your juices.

He helps you come down from your high by pressing delicate kisses around your core and inner thighs. After a few minutes, he walks into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth to clean you up. Also, bringing you Advil and water to get ahead of the morning hangover. You’re too drained to move so he cleans you up and wraps a blanket around you while he makes sure everything is locked up. He joins you back in bed and pulls you closer to him, “You comfy?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you say sleepily. He presses one final kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

You stay awake for a few moments, thinking about how lucky you were to have someone who cared so much about you and always made sure that you were comfortable. He was perfect for you, and you couldn’t get enough of him. Sure, you two were absolutely insatiable for each other, but you also had a healthy balance between lust and love that kept your relationship steady, strong, and tender. 

The next day

The next morning rolls by fairly quickly. You get up early to go over to Sophia’s hotel to help her get ready for the ceremony and leave Joe to get a few more hours of sleep, assuring him that you’ll be back in time to get ready with him. 

“Babe, have you seen my watch?” Joe asks as he walks into the bathroom, his mouth agape as he sees your completed wedding look. His eyes travel down your body, the slit in the dress showing off your bare leg; the black material of the dress hugged your body in all the right spots, especially your ass. He felt particularly weak when he saw the v-cut neckline which highlighted your perfectly round breasts. 

“I think it was on the entry table,” you say turning to face him as you get your last earring on. Your eyes widen at his completed wedding look; black pants and a silk maroon shirt with his signature shades. 

“You look stunning,” he says while keeping absolutely still. His heart was racing at how gorgeous you looked. Even though he got to see your beauty every day, he would still lose his mind every time. 

“Right back at ya,” you wink causing him to let out a chuckle. 

After putting the finishing touches on your look, you both head over to the venue for the ceremony. 

It was a wonderful ceremony. You and Joe were seated towards the front so you had an amazing view of the whole thing. You both were sitting close to each other, his hand in yours. You were struggling to hold back your tears the entire time since you were watching your best friend since elementary school get married, and when Joe looked over and saw, he melted. You were also tearing up at the thought of imagining yourself getting married. You would have all of this one day and you wondered if it would be with the man sitting next to you, you were praying that it would be with the man next to you.

He raised your hands to his lips, pressing a few soft kisses to them to make sure you were okay. 

“I love you,” you mouthed to him. 

“I love you more,” he mouthed back, not knowing why you were feeling extra emotional all of a sudden.

A few hours later the wedding reception had begun, and you both had found yourself in your own little corner once again. You were absentmindedly rubbing Joe’s thigh while you both were focused on all the wedding speeches, and it was getting him worked up. Once it was time for your speech, Joe had lost it. He watched as you swayed your perfect hips, hips that he loved to grab onto, over to the stage. Your soft skin was glistening in the spotlight and your perfect breasts were mocking him. 

“Now’s not the time,” Joe thought to himself as he felt himself getting hard. 

You wrapped up your special speech for your bestie with a toast to the newlyweds and made your way back to your boyfriend, who looked like he was struggling to sit comfortably. 

“Are you okay?” you giggle. All you get in response is a blank stare.

“What?” you question. 

He lets out a sigh and fixes his posture, “You in this damn dress, is driving me fucking insane,” he blurts out. 

You stare at him for a few moments, thinking about how funny it was that he was going gaga over you right now, just like how you were drooling at his sexy self. “Well, you in this whole look is making me insanely horny,” you whisper into his ear. 

He clears his throat as a way to compose himself. He thinks about if anyone would notice if you both stepped away for a few minutes. “There’s a bathroom around the corner,” he whispers. 

Your eyes widen at his offer. You both rarely had sex in public places like this, usually finding pleasure in your home, car, or anywhere private. But right now, you honestly could care less.

As the wedding reception raged on outside, You and Joe sneaked away to the bathroom for a moment alone. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the candles casting a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Your eyes locked, filled with desire and longing. Without saying a word, Joe closed the distance between your lips, capturing them in a hungry kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his hands roaming freely over your plush skin.

You moaned softly as Joe lifted you up onto the countertop, his hands sliding up your dress to caress the smooth skin of your thighs. You push your hands into his curls as his lips travel down your neck, causing you to let out a moan. “Yeah,” you whimper. 

Your clothes were quickly discarded, leaving you both naked and exposed to each other. You push your lips against him again as you reach down and slide your hand up and down his dick. You guide it to your core and leave the rest to him. You moaned in ecstasy as he buried himself deep inside you. 

Your head falls back against the mirror as your legs hook around his waist. “Shit,” you moan as Joe moves his face into the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses along your collarbone. His steady pace was doing wonders but you needed him to go deeper and faster. 

“Joe,” you whimpered, causing him to move his face back into your view. “Fuck me harder,”. 

“Are you sure?”.

“Yeah,” you moaned. 

He smiles and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he quickens his pace, rapidly thrusting into your slick core. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom as you were drowning in pleasure. “Harder,” you whimpered. The sounds coming out of your mouth were driving Joe insane as he thrusted deeper and deeper into your pussy, completely forgetting you were in a public bathroom. 

“Y/N,” he groaned as he gripped your waist tighter, surely leaving a few bruises. 

“Fuck Joe,” you moaned, this time a little louder. Each thrust sends you further back into the mirror and your lower half becomes slicker and slicker by the second. “You feel so good,” you whisper. 

Joe smiles as he plunges into you harder and harder each time. You felt a familiar sensation build in your belly as he pounded into your heat, “I’m so close,” you whispered. 

“Fuck, me too,” he moans as he reaches down and starts to rub circles around your wet clit. You whimper at the sudden contact, eventually setting off your release. Your walls clench around his cock as you let out a series of pornographic moans into his ear. 

He continues to pound into you, harder than before, trying to reach his own pleasure. You whimper at his movements and your hands start to scratch up and down his bare back. 

“Y/N..” he moaned. 

“Mm,” you whined. A few seconds later, you felt his release coat your walls. You both were trying to catch your breaths and regain your senses for a few moments before Joe slid out of you. He cleans you up first and helps you put your clothes back on. Then, you clean him up and help him fix his outfit just like he did for you. You look into the mirror while fixing your hair and smile at how well fucked-out you look, and look back over to your boyfriend, also looking well fucked. 

Before leaving the bathroom, he pulls you in for a hug, whispering a few sweet nothings into your ear and telling you how amazing you were. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, causing you to smile against his chest and hug him tighter. 

You walk back into the reception with a slight limp, pretending as nothing happened, and tell Joe you are going over to Sophia for a bit. Joe nodded and said he’d be grabbing you both something to eat. 

You walk over to her table and slide into the chair next to her, flashing her a giddy smile. 

“How does it feel to be a Wifey,” you questioned. 

She laughs, “Very Fun,” while looking over at you. She looks carefully at you, noticing your smudged lipgloss and slightly messy hair. Your radiant smile and limp told her everything she needed to know.

“Looks like you had a little bit of your own fun,” she winks. “I saw that limp,”. Your face immediately turns red at the fact that she figured it out. How could she not? This girl has known you longer than anyone, of course she could tell when something was up, good or bad. 

You heave a sigh, “I don’t know what about him makes me so-,” you pause as you can’t find the right word to finish the sentence. 

“Down Bad?” Your friend says. 

You stay silent for a few seconds, “Yeah. Down Bad.” You smile as you look over at your boyfriend who was currently balancing two plates of food in his hand for you both.

“I see the way he looks at you, you know. It’s like you’re the only person in the room for him,” she says. “He looks at you like you are the most valuable diamond,”. 

You blush while you think about the countless times you’d find Joe deeply staring at you whenever you were talking. “Yeah, he does do that doesn’t he,”. 

“And I also see the way you look at him,” she adds.

“What do you mean, how do I look at him?”.

“Well other than looking like you want to pounce on him every 5 minutes,” she giggles. “You look at him like he’s the one,”.

You are surprised by what she says. The one? You’d only been officially dating for 4 months, was he really the one? He made you feel things that you haven’t felt in forever and even things you’d never felt before. He made you feel seen and he made you feel loved. You were so lucky to have found something special with him, but was he going to be the one? Did he even want you to be the one?

“Sophia, we’ve been dating for 4 months,” you nervously laugh. 

“And?” She questions. “I know it’s early, but I’ve seen you look happier with Joe in the past few months than I saw you with your ex who you were with for 3 years. He really really really loves you and I can tell that you feel the same way”. 

“He’s the one, Y/N. Trust me, I can feel it,” she adds as you look back over at Joe, who flashes you a warm smile, setting off butterflies in your stomach. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. Maybe he was the one. God, you wanted him to be the one. 

You hear her let out a loud laugh, “See what I mean! Even across the room, look at you two!”. 

You turn over and playfully push her arm. “Y’all are sooo down bad for each other,” she teases. You break out into a fit of laughter as you spend a few more moments talking to her about the wedding and the brunch tomorrow before getting up and joining your boyfriend once again. 

“What was that about?” He questions. 

“Ohhh nothing,” you say. The playful tone in your voice makes Joe slightly suspicious but he decides not to question it. Festive music fills the room as you both sit and eat your delicious meals while watching all the couples fill the dance floor.

Joe hears the song change from upbeat to slow; “Can’t Help Falling In Love,” playing softly in the background. This song was another song that was special for you both. 

He meets your eyes before standing up. You were confused at why he was getting up since you were both comfy the way you were sitting now, and you both certainly were not about to dance. Joe never danced in public as the only time he would slow-dance with you was in private. You didn’t mind though, it felt more natural and intimate that way. The song currently playing was one of your favorites to dance to.

He extends his hand out and says, “Y/N, would you like to dance with me?”. 

You feel like he’s messing with you so you don’t say anything for a few seconds, but he remains in the same position so he means business. 

“I would love to dance with you,” you say as he grabs his hand and leads you to the dance floor.  

His hands wrap around your waist as yours hang from his neck, and your warm bodies find themselves pressed together once again. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says quietly while swaying you to the beat of the song. 

You blush, “You’ve told me that like 50 times today,”. 

“And I’ll do it 50 more,” he says while raising his brows. 

“Only you could be so romantic not even an hour after rearranging my guts,” you whisper as he pulls you closer, if that was even humanly possible. 

“You just have this effect on me Y/N,” he says. “Got me feeling down bad every minute of every day,”.

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “Have you been talking to Sophia?” you question. 

“I mean, Yeah, it is her wedding,” he says while shrugging his shoulders. 

“No, I mean about us?” you ask.

“A little, but not anything in particular. Is something wrong?” he says, his face turning solemn. 

“No, No. Nothings wrong. It’s just she’s been going on the entire weekend about how down bad we are for each other,” you giggle, his grip on your waist becoming tighter. 

“To be fair, she isn’t wrong. You make me do things and feel things that I never knew I could be capable of,” he says, once again staring deeply into your soft eyes. Your heart beating so incredibly fast as it felt like it was just you two dancing on the floor. 

“Joe,” you whisper, your face moving closer to his.

“I’m so lucky to have you Y/N. You have no idea,” he says before pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

Your lips fit perfectly against his as you stay like that for a few seconds before breaking away, “I can’t help falling in love with you,” you say, reciting the lyrics of the song playing while you two are dancing.

“I love you, so fucking much. If this is what they call down bad, then fuck yes I’m down bad for the love of my life,” he says. 

A huge grin appears on your face, “Love of your life?” you question.

“Mhm,” he says as he pushes your head into his chest. “Take this as a preview of what our first dance will be like at our wedding,” he says. “Same song and everything,”.

You feel tears pool in your eyes as you look back up at him, “Really? You wanna marry me?”. 

He smiles and says, “Down the road, absolutely. You are exactly what I’ve been waiting for in my life. If you think I’m gonna let that go, maybe I need to do a better job of showing it”. 

Your heart felt like it was about to explode. He wanted to be the one just as much as you did. 

“If you were to do more to show your love than you already did, I think I would drop dead,” you tease. 

“Hey, that is not funny,” he deadpans. 

“Oops, Sorry Mr. Serious,” you say as you kiss his cheek. 

“Well, for future reference, I like princess cut,” you smile, causing him to break his serious expression and let out a hearty laugh. Your head finding its way back to his chest as you continued dancing. 

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them entwined in a dance that seemed to last for eternity. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, but to them, it was as if they were the only ones in the world.

As the song came to an end, they held each other closer, never wanting to let go. The warmth of their love enveloped them, filling their hearts with a sense of pure bliss and contentment.

And in that magical moment, as they whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears, they knew that their love would always be the music that guided them through life's dance, forever intertwined and inseparable.

–The End–