#marvel x reader

[m0nsterqzzz]

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar - 

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

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You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack. 

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives. 

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

 All is fair in love and music though.

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[romanoffshouse]

Wanda: How the hell did you crash the car?!

Y/N: So I was just driving today, right? And my navigation told me to go straight.

Y/N: I was like "woah, that's homophobic". Instead, I went gay. And, THAT'S when I got into an accident.

Wanda: ...

Natasha, with a proud smile: And THAT'S who I'm in love with, ladies and gentlemen.

[pixiexdusts-world]

Incorrect Quote

Natasha: So… I’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with Bucky recently.

Y/n: No, Natasha, it's not what it looks like, I swear.

Natasha: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?

Y/n: No! You’re the only one for me.

Natasha: Is that so?

Y/n: I promise! Bucky and I are just dating, okay? They’re my partner.

Natasha: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved?

Y/n: You are still my one and only best friend! They’re just the love of my life, nothing more!

Natasha: But I’m still the platonic love of your life, right?

Y/n: Of course bro!

Natasha: Bro...

Bucky: What the-

[lyv-writes]

quick to break: frank castle x reader

words: 5,596

warnings: explicit smut, afab!reader, blowjobs, face-fucking, consensual vaginal sex, mild cock worship, manhandling, spanking, praise kink, strength kink, mating press, choking kink, use of the term “little girl” but not in a ddlg way, more in a patronizing way??? and only like 3 times, honestly pureee filth. i came back with a vengeance, aftercare, cuddling after sex (truly the biggest warning)

notes: had to come back with a bang…literally. horrible pun, i know. please enjoy and feel free drop an ask in my inbox! :D this was also cross-posted on ao3 <3

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡ ･ﾟﾟ･

Frank Castle.

Even the name was daunting, looming over you like a castle at the top of a hill. Walls impenetrable; no one got in that wasn’t wanted. He oozed control, of which Frank had a lot of.

Control over the scumbags of Hell’s Kitchen, causing even the most dangerous of men to move underneath his radar for fear of him catching wind of them. The images of the bodies he left scattered in his wake more than likely the first thing they think about when they wake up, and the last they think about when they lay their head on their pillow.

Control over himself, the patience on the vigilante running far deeper than anyone would expect with his gruff personality. It comes with the territory, spending hours staking out buildings, days following criminals, months jumping from goon to goon, working his way up to the big bosses. That was no easy task, oftentimes returning to his loft seething, having to remind himself that running in half-cocked would only get him killed before he accomplished his goals, before he fulfilled his purpose.

His favorite place to exert his control, however, was you. As of late, he finds his veins thrumming with a different kind of adrenaline—one that he can only find in taking you apart piece-by-piece, and putting you back together, not a thought in your head other than being good for him. He craves that control, in a way he only previously associated with the feeling of pulling the trigger of his gun with the barrel pressed against the head of some killer/smuggler/trafficker/piece of shit.

What made it so sweet was how willingly you gave it to him. He didn’t have to chase you down, didn’t have to break you to get you to bend for him.

He simply asked. Sometimes, demanded, if the mood called for it.

Even if he didn’t do either, you could tell what he needed with a look, and you were more than happy to help take some of that weight off of his shoulders.

It didn’t take much for you to realize Frank was holding back the first couple times you two slept together. The first time, you thought nothing of it, the moment being full of love, passion, truly an act of devotion between the two of you. It was sweet, it was perfect, it made you wish that your first time had been like that, with him. You finished together, kissing each other through it with wandering hands. Falling asleep in his arms that night, felt like a missing piece falling into place.

After a while of being together, and more than a few nights spent tangled with each other under sheets, it was a rare night where you and Frank could lose yourselves in each other's company, that you had ventured into new territory.

Driven by a night full of fleeting touches, ignoring the outside world for just a moment, the two of you stumbled into your apartment, lips reluctantly leaving each other only to shed your coats. You followed it up with your dress, and Frank impatiently unbuttoned his black dress shirt as you were already dropping to your knees, hands fumbling with his belt and unfastening his pants before he had even shed his shirt. You traced your lips over his clothed erection, nuzzling against his bulge before fixing your lips over his tip, lapping at him through his boxers.

His cock twitched at the feeling of your warm breath caressing him through the cloth and before he could say a word you had hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down to meet his pants in a heap around his ankles, his cock springing free from its confines. You looked up to see him looming over you, hard cock hovering over your face as he pulled up the white tank top he wore underneath his button-up, revealing his stomach, solid, yet soft enough to melt under the press of your finger. He stepped out of his bottoms and kicked them to the side, and stepped towards you again, pressing the underside of his cock against your tongue.

“Please, Frankie, fuck my throat,” You whimpered, hands resting on his thighs, still pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the head of his cock and down his shaft. The only thing that had been on your mind all throughout dinner was treating Frank the way he deserved.

He did so much for you, for the city, you wanted him to be selfish for once, to take what he needed from you. You began stroking his length slowly, looking up at him through your lashes as you lapped at his slit, a groan coming from deep in his chest at your words coupled with your filthy actions. Your words came out slurred, lips still pressed to his cock and eyes glassy. “Wan’ you to, really, really do.”

Frank swallowed hard, gathering your hair together in a ponytail in his fist, his other hand coming down to caress your cheek softly. “You sure, baby?” He asked, voice tight with restraint. You had no idea how badly those words made him want to see you gag on his cock as he sinks into your throat, but you were so sweet, so soft.

The two of you hadn’t discussed making things a little more intense in the bedroom, too satisfied with being joined together so intimately. Frank knew that he could get a little lost in it sometimes, forgetting his own strength when wrapped up in the moment, but he made sure to take care with you.

Frank was all too happy to take things at your pace, just having you to himself being enough for him. “Wouldn’t wanna hurt that pretty throat a’yours.”

You shook your head, a dreamy smile on your face as you picked up the pace of your strokes. “You won’t hurt me, Frank. I trust you.”

He took a deep breath, feeling a bit selfish at giving into your request so easily, but he couldn’t deny that he desperately wanted to see if your throat could take his cock as good as your cunt did. And who was he to tell you no when you asked for it so sweetly. “Just tap my thigh if you need me ‘ta stop, okay?”

“Okay, Frankie,” you breathed, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation of feeling Frank use some of that strength you knew was hiding under his soft flesh against you.

Frank’s nighttime activities have never bothered you, in fact, quite the opposite. You found his sense of justice, the drive to do what needs to be done, admirable, irresistible. You couldn’t help but adore him—feel safe with him. You knew that if your friends and family knew who Frank really was, they would question your sanity. How in the world could you feel safe with someone who could be so violent, so bloodthirsty?

But you knew he would never hurt you.

You found comfort in how capable he was at keeping you safe. Knowing he would do anything to protect his own—you were convinced that if the world went to complete shit you would remain unaffected in Frank’s loft, shielded in your very own fortress, just the two of you.

The way you felt safe, cared for as his body hovered over yours on your bed, was something like you had never felt before. You knew you could only ever feel this safe with Frank.

Seeing the look of unadulterated adoration on your face, the way you so eagerly lapped at his cock as you waited for him to finally sink into your awaiting mouth, had him groaning, his cock twitching against your tongue at the sight. After a steadying breath, his grip tightened in your hair and he slowly entered your mouth, feeding you his dick until his tip was hitting the back of your throat with a moan at the sound of you gagging around his length.

“Relax, baby, lemme in,” he grunts, his face pinched in concentration as he focuses on not hurting you, no matter how badly he wants to shove you down on his cock. With short, steady thrusts he works open your throat, pulling back out till the tip was resting on your tongue before plunging back in just a little bit further. “That’s it, baby— shit.”

His sounds have you moaning lightly around his length, eyes glazed over and looking up at him as he takes such care in making sure you can take him without harm. You relax as much as you can for him, taking deep breaths through your nose as he sinks further into your throat. The taste of him is heady, causing arousal to coat your slit as you work your tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Atta girl,” he purrs, the last inch of his cock sliding down your throat. He groaned, pumping his hips shallowly as he tipped his head back and you whined at the sight of him, shirt pulled up to his chest, a sheen of sweat covering his chest and shoulders.

The light from the ceiling haloed around him, an angelic image towering above you. You could worship him forever, you realized, as you felt his thrusts pick up speed, pulling out from your throat and plunging back in. With that thought, the last of the tension that was strung tight in your body dissipated and you knew Frank could feel the difference with the moan that slipped from his throat.

He was seated to the hilt, your nose pressed tightly to the trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock. You struggled to get a breath in through your nose as he relished in the way your throat fluttered around his cock. With your eyes rolling back slightly, the lack of oxygen had your head swimming, your heartbeat thumping in your clit at the feeling.

Frank opened his eyes, dropping his gaze to where you were kneeled before him, eyes rolled back at the feeling of him filling your throat and he picked up his speed again with a loud moan. His balls slapped against your chin as he used your throat like it was a fleshlight, and you snaked your hand down to the apex of your thighs, sliding past your panties to your soaked core.

The feeling of your fingers against your clit had you moaning loudly around his cock, the vibrations from your throat dislodging a loud moan from his throat. “Such a good fuckin’ slut f’me, gettin’ off from havin’ my cock in your throat.”

His words had you whining, not expecting the filth that dripped from his tongue. Frank was very vocal in bed—telling you how good you feel, moaning into your ear as he sinks into you. But he was so vulgar, it had you rutting against your fingers at the same pace he fucked into your throat.

No matter how badly you wanted to get him off with just your mouth, to feel him cum down your throat, you needed him inside you so desperately. Finally giving in, the war in your mind ceased as you tapped lightly on his thigh, signaling for him to stop.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Frank asked quickly, worry lacing his words as he gently pulled out of your throat. His eyes met yours and widened slightly in awe at you, seeing the dopey smile on your face and the way you nosed at the flesh of his tummy.

“Not at all, Frankie,” you assured, your voice a little raspy before pressing a kiss to the skin above his belly button. You continued to litter kisses all over the skin you could reach, pulling a soft chuckle from Frank as he carded his fingers through your hair softly. “S’good, so good, jus’ need you real bad.”

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, a teasing grin on his face. “Need my cock in that cute little cunt’a yours? Bet that’s why you were humpin’ your hand while suckin’ me off.”

Nodding quickly, you stand on wobbly legs. Frank steadied you as you swayed towards him with a giggle before you shimmied out of your panties, grinning up at him cheekily. Linking his fingers with yours, you drag him down the hall into your bedroom, yelping at the smack he lands on your ass as you're crawling onto the bed.

Situating yourself on your hands and knees, you wiggle your ass at Frank teasingly, shooting him a coy smile over your shoulder. “Please, Frankie…need’ta feel your big dick stretching out my pussy.”

With a wolfish grin, he pulls his tank top over his head, grin turning into a smirk at the way your eyes rake over his body, admiring his strong torso before your eyes settle on his cock. It stood proud, mushroom tip flushed a deep red, pre-cum beading at the tip.

Mounting the bed behind you, he presses a palm between your shoulders until your chest is flush with the bed, presenting your slick cunt for his eyes. His rough hands knead the plush flesh of your ass, groaning at how wet your tight hole is for him. You feel his hand leave you and then come back down, landing a hard smack! to your ass, forcing a moan from your throat.

Frank watches the way your ass jiggles with hungry eyes, chuckling lowly at the loud moan you released. “Does my girl like it when I slap her pretty ass, hm?”

His hand comes down again on your other cheek, the stinging pain morphing into pleasure that pooled in your core. You felt slick leak from your core, face flushing knowing that Frank has the perfect view of your sodden cunt. That thought is confirmed when his thumb drags from your entrance to your clit, rubbing your slick around the tender bud slowly. “You really like that, don’t’cha, angel?”

His thumb added more pressure to your clit, circling it faster before slowing down again. He sped up again, feeling the way you inched closer and closer to your climax before slowing down again.

“Never would’a thought my sweet girl liked bein’ roughed up so much,” he mused, his grin clear in his voice. His thumb was replaced with two fingers, circling your clit a couple more times before dipping down to your entrance, prodding against the tight hole. You clench around nothing at the feeling of Frank’s fingers ghosting against your entrance, drawing another breath of a laugh from him.

“That why you wanted me to fuck your pretty little throat?” Frank asked, burying two of his fingers inside you the knuckle, the feeling of your walls stretching around them making you whine. “My little girl like it when I push her around a bit? When I use her like the little toy she is?”

A moan left your lips as Frank crooks his fingers, searching for that soft spot inside you, and it sends you reeling when he finds it. It feels like the air has been punched from your lungs at the way he bullies the spot, fucking you open on his fingers with fervor. Frank’s fingers were twice the size of yours, and long enough to reach the most delicious spots inside you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, the force of his fingers forcing moans and incoherent mumbles from your lips. A cry tore from your lips as his hand struck your ass again, immediately repeating the action on the other cheek.

The pain mixed with pleasure had you gushing around his fingers, the sound of them fucking into you, lewd and wet, had your ears turning red. Without warning, your climax swept you under, your body tensing and trembling as white spots clouded your vision. Frank fucked you through your high with his fingers, slowing down until he was still, buried to the knuckle as your cunt fluttered around him.

As your orgasm subsided, you felt yourself relax, slumping further against the bed as Frank gently pulled his fingers from your twitching hole.

“Did so fuckin’ good f’me, baby,” Frank praises, draping his body over yours to press kisses across your back and shoulders. His hands trail from your hips, up your sides and squeeze at the plush flesh of your waist before dragging them back down to your hips and repeating the process.

His cock is hot against your lower back, hard length rutting slowly against your ass as he continues to ghost kisses across your skin. “Such a good fuckin’ girl—my good fuckin’ girl.”

A content hum builds in the back of your throat and you roll over on your side just enough to look back at Frank, your chest tightening at the grin stretched across his face. Frank’s smile always had your heart screeching to a halt in your chest, and you were sure your eyes turned to hearts at the sight.

“‘M all yours, Frankie,” you say with a sigh, pursing your lips at him to ask for a kiss.

He wastes no time in fulfilling your request, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. You can feel his love pouring into you through the kiss, as if your souls were connected where your lips met. The kiss was broken all too soon by the smile that stretched across your lips. His smile soon mirrored yours until you were smiling fondly at each other, foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling in the close space.

“Are you okay to continue?” Frank asks, tone soft as he bumps his nose gently against yours. “We can stop here, baby. You’ve been so perfect.”

The tiredness that you feel is still tinged with an undercurrent of need, still craving to be so intimately connected with Frank. The feeling of his cock, hard and warm against your skin only solidified your thoughts. Pressing another soft kiss to his lips, you pull away just far enough to murmur, “Fuck me, Frankie.”

With a groan and a satisfied grin, Frank’s hand snaked down between the two of you, guiding his cock to glide along your slick folds. Your mingling breaths soon became shared moans as he pressed his dick flat against your cunt, lubing up his cock with your wetness. A whine hitched in your throat as his head nudged at your entrance until it gave way, allowing him to work his thick cock inside your tight hole.

Despite him getting you ready with his fingers, the feeling of him stretching you out in his cock had heat engulfing your body, your mouth opening in a silent moan at the never-ending feeling of him filling you. He finally met the end of you, pressing himself further just for good measure before pulling back till just the tip was seated in your cunt.

He leisurely plunged his cock back into you, allowing you to feel the way his dick carved a path inside you. You loved the way Frank always looked out for you, always put your needs before his own when it came to acts of intimacy. But right now you wanted—no, you needed him to take what he wanted.

“Frankie,” you whined, arching your back to press your ass against his hips, taking his cock completely. “Please, fuck me, Frank. Don’t hold back.”

A rough groan passes his lips, his hips pressing further against yours at your words. “Fuck, babydoll, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t, Frankie,” you urge, looking at him with your face pressed against the mattress. “I’m not quick to break—promise. Please, Frankie, fuck me hard.”

He could hear the desperation in your voice, the way your lip trembled and brows pinched together as you looked up at him. Surging down to grab your jaw with his hand, he held your face still to press his lips urgently to yours, tongue demanding entrance before he pulled away, string of spit connecting your tongues.

Frank pulled away enough to look you in your eyes, making sure there wasn’t a trace of hesitation. Instead he found lust, hunger, love, as you smiled up at him once more. His voice was firm, more firm than you had ever really heard him be with you. “You tell me to stop, I stop immediately, do you understand, babydoll?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded immediately, the honorific just sounding right in the context. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”

His gaze darkened at the sound of the title you used for him and he nodded at your agreement, dropping a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good girl.”

His words washed over you like a warm breeze, sinking you further into the fuzzy headspace that you always felt bleeding at the edges of your vision when it came to being intimate with Frank.

You felt Frank straighten back up, his hands trailing your shoulders, softly down your sides to settle at your hips. Slowly, so slow it was agonizing, he pulled his cock from your wet channel, just the tip nestled into your heat. Despite the instinct to brace for the impact of his hips on yours, you forced yourself to relax, further melting into the mattress to show Frank just how much you wanted everything he had to give.

Frank stayed still, enjoying the visage of you so submissive for him. Presenting your sweet cunt so eagerly for him, like a bitch in heat begging to be bred. His cock pulsed where it sat snug in your entrance at the thought.

You started to get antsy, wanting to look over your shoulder to see what Frank was thinking, but wanting to stay still and be good for him. Just when you considered wiggling your hips, hoping to spur him on, he filled your weeping cunt in one fell stroke.

A cry was wrenched from your throat at the feeling of him filling you so completely, not sparing a second before he was pistoning his hips against yours. With your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling of his tip bullying your cervix, you felt the curve of his dick brushing against that spongy spot inside you.

The pleasure was almost too much, your fingers tightening in their grip on the sheets and trying to drag yourself away from the feeling. With a grunt, Frank wrenched your hand out of the sheets, hand circling tightly around the bend of your elbow as he pulled you back towards him. His hips picked back up their rhythm, hand landing a thundering smack on your ass cheek as he fucked into you.

“Don’t try runnin’ now, little girl,” Frank grunted, landing another harsh smack against the raw flesh of your ass. “You asked for this.”

He was being borderline mean, his tone cold and detached as he used your body to chase his release, and his words had a loud moan breaking free from your throat. It only had you growing wetter, the squelching sounds of him railing your cunt increasing in volume, along with your moans.

You knew that if you wanted it to stop, you could say so, and you trusted Frank to keep his word. But it was so perfect, the pain burning in such a euphoric way, it was too much and not enough all at once.

“F-fuck, sir— unh! ” Words fell from your lips, incoherent babbles of his name mixing with your moans creating the most beautiful symphony in the silence of the room. “So good—so full, fuck.”

His hips came to a stop, pulling out so quickly you didn’t even realize until he was manhandling you onto your back. His eyes took you in from your face to the wet heat at the apex of your thighs, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight of you clenching around nothing.

“Kiss me, Frankie, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist and dragging your wet core against his cock.

He’s never been able to deny you anything, even now, his hard exterior dropping to press a languid kiss to your lips. You gasp against his mouth, his tongue taking advantage of the noise to slip in alongside yours. He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Bein’ such a good little toy for me, baby.”

His hips rut against you, grinding perfectly against your clit. His words send your mind floating off into the clouds, happy, sated knowing that you’re being good for him, that you’re taking all that he gives just how he wants you to.

You’re so lost in the kiss, the feeling of his chapped lips against yours, the warm weight of his hand caressing the side of your cheek, you don’t even notice him drag his cock down to your entrance. With a sharp thrust, he bottoms out once more, relishing in the way your eyes widen at the unexpected stretch, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Frank licks into your mouth one final time before pulling away, planting one hand on your hip and the other around your neck. He gives your neck a gentle squeeze, your eyes focusing on him and seeing the silent question in his eyes. You nod quickly, failing to form the words of encouragement he needed, but whatever he saw on your face was confirmation enough.

His grip on your throat tightened, blood rushing in your ears at the light feeling in your head. Frank cursed, hips stuttering against yours at the way you clenched around his cock, almost making it hard for him to pull out and press back in smoothly.

Frank can feel your walls fluttering around him, the signs of your climax approaching has him doubling his efforts. The hand that was on your hip leaves a trail of fire as he moves it to your mound, thumb ghosting over your clit and making your hips buck against his thumb at the feeling.

The sweet abyss of release was so close you could taste it, sweet on your tongue. You were desperate for it. Your hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into the skin hard, dragging down in your pleasure fueled daze, leaving stinging, red marks in your wake.

“Please, please, please,” you mumbled, your brain melting underneath Frank’s weight as you felt his hands grab at your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest as he settled his weight over you. His cock pressed deeper into your core, the deepest anyone had ever been. “O-oh, God, Frankie—can feel you in my tummy, baby— ah! ”

Your voice was nothing more than a shrill whine, all the air punched out of your lungs at the change in position. His weight was comforting around you as he molded your cunt around his cock. You were sure you would never be the same after this, he had broken you down and rebuilt you in the same breath.

His fingers worked quick circles around your clit as he huffed, his pace slowing slightly, allowing him to hit deeper, harder. His hand is still loosely circling your throat, no longer squeezing but acting as something to ground you. Despite your previous orgasms, you know this will be intense. You can feel it building, but it feels slightly different, the pressure building more than usual.

“C’mon, little girl, you’re gonna give it t’me,” Frank grunts, angling his hips for that little spot that makes you feel like you could float away from your body. His hand tightens around your neck, your moan cut off into a ragged breath. “Cum around my dick so I can breed this tight little cunt, y’want that don’t you?”

“God, yes!”

In a flash, flames envelop your body, toes curling as your vision goes spotty at the force of your orgasm, leaving you cumming with a cry. Frank’s hand releases your throat, the oxygen rushing back through your veins making the sensations more intense. You’re so fucked out, you didn’t notice the way you soaked the lower half of Frank’s body, your arousal dripping down his hips and drenching the sheets.

Frank’s hips collide with yours, once, twice, before stilling, painting your sensitive walls with his thick spend. The feeling of him filling you with his seed, grinding his hips against yours and stimulating your tender bud, has you moaning softly as an aftershock rolls through you.

The air around you is still, thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Frank gently lowers your legs, pressing featherlight kisses to your face at the sight of you wincing in discomfort. Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you drag his mouth over yours, pressing a deep, unhurried kiss to your lover’s lips.

Frank’s softened cock is still wrapped in your velvet heat, both of you enjoying the feeling of being so close, feeling like you are one entity instead of two individuals. You had never understood the appeal of cockwarming until now, pressed to the bed with the weight of Frank’s body laid atop yours, joined in the most intimate way.

Finally parting for breath, Frank presses his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he melts under your nails scratching lightly at his scalp. His words are slurred in contentment. “Wasn’t too rough, was I?”

Shaking your head softly against his, you smile softly at his serene face. You only ever see Frank this at ease when he’s asleep, the only time the man indulged in being vulnerable. “Not at all, Frank.”

Pulling back far enough to meet his gaze, your hand falls to cup his cheeks. “It was perfect. You’re perfect, Frankie.”

It never fails to amaze him how you’re able to quiet the voices in his head, the ones that nag at him, nasty, cruel voices that spit venomous words. His whole being is still. Right now, intertwined with you in the closest way possible, he’s never been happier.

His lips pull into a sheepish grin, shaking his head at you. “That’s all you, angel. My good little girl.”

His praise makes your face flush, despite all you had just done, all he had just done to you, he still managed to fluster you. He presses a kiss to your pouting lips, chuckling into the kiss as you try to resist before melting against him.

Nuzzling your nose with his, he softly pulls out from your sensitive core, pressing a kiss to your nose as you wrinkled it at the sensation of his release dripping out of you. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get you to the bathroom while I change the sheets.”

Standing up before you, Frank scoops you up in his arms, smirking at the tiny yelp you let out at the unexpected action. You smack his chest with a giggle before burying your face in his neck. Frank always looked at you a little weird when you sniffed at him like this, but you just couldn’t help it—he always smelt so good. If his natural scent was some top-shelf designer cologne, you would spend hundreds on it.

After placing you on the toilet, he grabs a washcloth, wetting it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and wiping down your sensitive areas with a gentle hand. Once he was done with that, he deposited the cloth in the hamper, before returning to the bathroom.

“I’m going to change the sheets and get you some water,” Frank says, pressing a lasting kiss on the top of your head. “You finish up in here, I’ll be done by the time you are.”

With a final smile, Frank leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You quickly use the restroom before wiping off the rest of your ruined makeup with a makeup remover wipe. By the time you’ve finished brushing your teeth and exited the bathroom, Frank is setting the glass of water on your side of the bed.

He smiles softly when he sees you exit the bathroom, his eyes taking in your bare figure with a look that wasn’t of hunger, or lust, but adoration, reverence. You had never felt so beautiful with just one look before you met Frank—he was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

He pulls back the duvet, sliding in against the fresh sheets and patting the spot next to him for you to join him. With a bright smile, you cross the room in a flash, burying yourself into his side as he tucks the comforter in around the two of you so none of the cold air could get into your little cocoon

You pressed your cold toes to Frank’s warm legs, giggling at the hiss he let out at the feeling. He glared playfully at you, kicking around at the blankets until he had wrapped them around your feet. Tucking his arm under your head, he draped his other arm over your waist and pulled you closer to him, your chilled nose brushing against the warm skin of his neck.

With a sigh you wrap your arm around Frank’s torso, hand splayed out on the muscles of his back and ribs. “Y’so warm, Frankie,” you mumble, the sound muffled from your place in his neck.

He laughs softly, his fingers drawing delicate shapes on the soft skin of your back. “You’re just cold, baby. But don’t worry, I got’cha.”

“I know,” you hum, trying to press yourself closer to him. “I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

[four-identify-possible-tend]

https://jacqueline-972.mxtkh.fun/m/0VdZo67

[trouble-fast]

https://colleen-341.mxtkh.fun/qi/Hs1CwdZ

[murdockparker]

Promises, Promises

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Five years is a long time to be together, Peter knew that. Peter also knew that everything was expensive—but he had an idea. A little juvenile, sure, but it was an idea regardless.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of sex (no smut), reader is a nerd, Star Wars hot take?

A/N: I haven't written for Peter in a hot second, but I'm glad to get back into the swing of things ;) i'll see myself out now

An old pop song blasted through the small shop, possibly from the eighties or nineties, it was hard to decipher, given that the boombox playing the song was probably older than she was.

“Do you need more toilet paper?” She asked across the aisle, hoping someone would answer back—a certain someone in particular. 

“Nah,” she could see a mop of brown shake from over the packages, “I just bought some last week.”

“Peter, if you’re lying to me and you’re out of toilet paper again I swear on all that is holy—”

“Babe,” Peter said softly, peaking around the corner, “trust me. It’s not gonna be like last time.”

“Oh? You mean the time I was stranded on your toilet while you ran out to buy some more?” She nearly had laughed at the memory, but decided against it, having far more fun antagonizing her boyfriend. “That last time?”

He went positively crimson, from his neck to his ears. He always looked good in red, she thought, but she liked this red the best. “I am one thousand percent positive—I think I still have the receipt in my back pocket.”

“You said you bought some last week though? You haven’t washed those jeans yet?”

Peter shrugged. “I haven’t worn these that many times since last week…”

She laughed at that, pulling a bag of chips off of the shelf. Changing her mind, she pulled another as well—her favorite and his favorite. “Okay pretty boy, I believe you. I also believe we’ll be making a stop to the laundromat tonight, too.”

“Can we do it tomorrow?” Peter groaned, grabbing the snacks from her and holding them close. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“Obviously you haven’t been in the mood for a week,” she rolled her eyes. “But sure, we can go tomorrow. Tonight, we feast like twelve year olds and binge our favorite movies.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Peter sighed, leaning up against the shelf, eyes locked on her. “A pretty girl willing to watch Star Wars, eat cheese puffs and date me?”

“Don’t forget the hot, hot sex you’ll have with the pretty girl after,” she winked, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Speaking of—”

“Restocked those too,” Peter said proudly. “Bought them with the toilet paper—could show you the receipt if you want. Bet you’re glad I held onto it, right?”

She pushed him away, her nose scrunched up in disgust. “I take the offer of sex back, I’m still not over those dirty jeans.”

“I’ll shower!”

“Just buy the snacks,” she laughed, shoving him towards the cashier. “I’ll rethink my offer in the meantime.”

“Aye aye, boss,” Peter saluted, turning hot on his heels to the front. She couldn’t help but smile, watching him laugh with the bodega owner, pulling crumpled bills out of his pockets and pressing them against the counter. There was hardly anything that Peter Parker could do that she didn’t find endearing—find something to smile about. 

“Local news tonight, late last night in Manhattan, our favorite web slinger was seen assisting with directing traffic during the power surge,” a reporter on the T.V. in the corner of the store announced, the screen showed Spider-Man waving traffic along, webbing a car to stop before it crashed into another oncoming vehicle. “Local authorities showed up minutes later to take over, sans-webs.”

“Huh,” she clicked, feeling her smile grow wider. “He's been spending time in Manhattan?”

“Spider-Man gets around town,” Peter shrugged, finally returning beside his girlfriend, their purchases in white plastic bags. “Can’t always stay in Queens, can he?”

“Helps if Spider-Man goes to school in Manhattan, no?” She teased quietly, elbowing Peter lovingly.

“He had time after class,” his voice matched her own, low and slow, opening the door and finally walking out onto the street. “What? Was he expected to let everyone crash their cars while the stoplights went out?”

“No,” she hummed, noticing quickly how Peter took the outside of their strides, closest to the street. He always did that. The notion warmed her heart, the feeling flooding to her toes. “Good thing he was there to help out. I’m sure the police were thankful.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay,” she conceded, head falling onto his shoulder. “Yeah, that was dumb to say.”

The rest of the walk was silent, as silent as it could get in New York City, anyhow. Comfortable, the beats of the city passing by with every step towards Peter’s apartment, hands intertwined with the other. Occasionally, he’d tug her back and stop her from stepping into the street, clearly knowing she’s not paying attention to the changing pedestrian signs. She’d squeeze his hand back in thanks. 

“Have you thought more about moving in?” Peter asked, trying his best to unlock the door to his apartment, wrists heavy from the bags. “Y’know, I’m sure I can get you added to the lease if I asked.”

“Thought about it,” she hummed, gently taking the bags from him. “I just… your place is a bit small.”

“What?” He scoffed, finally pushing the door open and allowing her to enter. “You’re saying this luxurious suite is too small?”

It was comical, the timing of his statement. She could hardly turn her neck and she’d get a full view of Peter’s apartment—minus the bathroom. He could only afford a studio, and even then it was bursting at the seams, with all of his school work, his work work and his ‘unofficial’ work work, the place was a mess. He tried his best to keep it tidy, he really did. It was never filthy, just overrun by stuff. 

“Babe, you’re growing out of your own space,” she laughed, double checking she locked the door behind them—it had a habit of sticking. “How’d you think I’d fit in here?”

“Preferably on my lap, or in my bed,” he smirked. “But… yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s a little cramped.”

“It’s not that I don’t love you, or love spending time here,” (Y/N) clarified. “Hell, you’d think after all these years I’d have moved on if that was the case.”

“Has it been that long?” He asked rhetorically, opening the bags in the kitchen—if you could call it that. 

“I won’t even pretend to act insulted you’ve forgotten how long we’ve been together, Parker.”

“Time flies when you’re in love,” Peter nearly sings. “Five years is a long time, feels like just yesterday I was nervously asking you out.”

“I asked you out,” she corrected. “I know, I know, five years and a hell of a lot of brain damage from crime fighting can make you misremember—”

“No way,” he scoffed. “I distinctly remember sliding a note in your locker between classes. Super cute, very sappy, I might add.”

She hopped up on his counter, with what little space he had free, anyway. “Did you? You seem to be forgetting how I pulled you aside after science class and, very confidently, I might add, asked you out for milkshakes after school.”

“That was the day I left you the note,” Peter blinked. “I just assumed you read it and were moving the process along.”

“Wait,” she barked a laugh. “I thought you left the note after I asked you out?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’. “Left it for you that morning, chemistry wasn’t until after lunch.”

“Huh,” she breathed, shoulders deflating. “I guess we both asked each other out on the same day.”

“Can’t believe it took us five years to figure that out,” Peter laughed, patting her thigh. 

“Knowing us? I’m surprised it didn’t take us ten.”

Ten years.

Ten years with her. 

The thought alone made Peter buzz with happiness. 

“We’re both pretty smart people,” Peter squeaked out, fighting his own body, hoping and praying a childish blush won’t give him away. “We would’ve figured it out before then.”

“I dunno, seems unlikely,” she opened a bag of chips, impatient to start their evening. “What are we starting with tonight? Phantom Menace?”

“We started with Phantom Menace last time, chronological order,” he scrunched his nose. “I think we should go by release order this weekend, just to shake things up.”

“Okay, nerd,” she said, her voice filled with affection. Hopping off the counter, she walked towards his couch. “I’ll go get A New Hope set up, then. You plate the snacks.”

“I’ll pull out my finest china,” Peter said. He opened the cabinets to find two bowls, one for each of the bags of chips. They were mismatched and two totally different sizes, but they were free from the old neighbors, so he made do.

“Y’know, I don’t think the debate between release order versus chronological order is all that great,” (Y/N) said, mostly to herself. “I mean, there’s a thousand other things Star Wars fans can get caught up in arms in, but the order in which to watch the movies? Oh no, someone man the Reddit boards! What a crock of shit. It doesn’t matter anyway, they’re all good movies.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by his girlfriend’s rant. “All of them? That’s a controversial opinion.”

“If I had a good time watching it, it was a good movie,” (Y/N) said simply. “Not everyone’s a critic.”

“Clearly.”

“Do you not agree?”

“I agreed the last time we had this conversation,” Peter droned, though not bored in the slightest. “Though, I will admit, I was perhaps a bit distracted, on account of your nakedness.”

“Our pillow talk gets heated,” she said, no hint of shame in her voice. “Only intellectual conversations afterwards, to ground us and all after… everything.”

“Because the sex is that good?”

“Because the sex is that good,” she agreed.

“Maybe I should plan that shower soon,” he grinned, walking over to his loving girlfriend. “Delay our marathon…”

“I didn’t walk all the way here just for sex, you know,” (Y/N) hummed, the couch shifting at Peter’s added weight. “An added bonus, for sure, but I came here to pig out and watch silly little movies set in space with my pretty boyfriend.”

“Pretty boyfriend?” 

“The prettiest,” she giggled, slipping a kiss to the tip of his nose. It’s not her fault he has such a kissable face—lips, cheeks, nose, wherever. “Big doe eyes, loads of freckles, smoochy cheeks—”

“Which ones?”

A pillow—one she had bought him months ago—met his face with a quick thump. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly smoochable,” Peter giggled, feeling lighter than air. “You said so yourself.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice all thick and lovey, “I know.”

Peter looked at her like she held the world in her hands, sitting beside him on his old couch—one that they had both moved up the stairs together two years ago—he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Everything was right in the world, everything was right in his heart. 

“Are you gonna press play?”

He shook his head a bit, dumping his lovesick thoughts out of his ears. “Oh! Yeah, right. The movie.”

She pulled a blanket up on them, snuggling closer to Peter as the opening fanfare begun to play. With the text scrolling on the screen, one he hardly needed to read to know what it said given his near-memorization of the film, he felt at peace.

—

Mindlessly scrolling on his phone, it was usually how he spent his mornings, to wake himself up. He knew about the studies with blue light and stimulation of that sort of activity and wakefulness—having heard it enough from the party beside him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Apartment listings. 

She was right, his studio was too small for the both of them, and it was only fitting if they were going to start a life together—living with one another—that they had ample space. Besides, they were graduating within the year anyhow, so location wasn’t terribly important. In the city would be nice, given his… other occupation, but he could get used to living outside of Manhattan again. It was quieter, usually, and only by a small percent. Cheaper, too. Thank God for his scholarships, he wouldn’t have made it very far without them. 

She stirred next to him, pulling his comforter mostly off of him. He didn’t need it right now, anyway. Not when she was sleeping so soundly. He craved these weekends, when they both had a break from school and work—most of the time anyway. Peter Parker knew in his heart of hearts that he needed this every day. Perhaps forever. 

Forever.

That seemed so out of reach five years ago, but now? Peter simply couldn’t see a life without her in it. With their hectic schedules, his being all-encompassing, marriage was out of the question, at least for a few years. That’s why the apartment was so important to him, a piece of forever within their grasp. 

“Maybe…” Peter sighed, clicking his phone off, afraid to breathe louder than necessary. 

She didn’t seem to wake, anyhow. 

—

“Why do weekends here go by so fast?”

“At the laundromat?”

(Y/N) gave him a knowing glance. “Yes, Pete, weekends fly by here at the laundromat.”

“Come on,” Peter laughed, stacking his jeans—fresh out of the dryer. “It’s not so bad. They have those magazines you like.”

“Magazines from years ago—”

“There was that one from the eighties you found two months ago,” Peter pointed. “Stuck under one of the dryers?”

She smiled at the memory. “True. That was kinda fun. Seeing all the dated hairstyles and outfits was a treat. But you knew what I meant, use that big brain of yours.”

“It probably has something to do with the fact we like spending time with one another,” Peter began, patting the top of his laundry pile. “Y’know, makes the time go by faster.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “I mean, logically, that’s probably the answer.”

“Logically? As opposed to illogically?”

“I could shove a sock down your throat right now, Parker,” she said seriously, holding up a balled up blue sock of his. “No one here would stop me. So cut it out with the smart ass-ness.”

Peter snorted a laugh. “Such a scary girlfriend I have, threatening me with socks.”

“Maybe instead of kryptonite like Superman, your weakness is socks? I need to capitalize on that venture before anyone else does,” she said, throwing the sock into the laundry basket. “Once I crack that code, I can sell it to all the big baddies of New York.”

“And maybe with all of the money you make, we could invest in a place for us,” Peter said.

“A house on the water,” she said dreamily. “Four bedrooms, an office—maybe one for both of us? Oh! An open kitchen sounds nice too, one with stone counters and fancy wood cabinets—real wood, not particle board. One of those farmhouse sinks?”

“If you share Spider-Man’s one weakness to all the big baddies of New York, don’t you think you’d have a hard time sharing a life with him after?” Peter asked, the sounds of the machines drowning out their conversation well enough. They practically had the whole place to themselves anyway, it seemed safe enough to talk about. “You know, considering that the spider is likely dead?”

“Hm…” she tapped her chin. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“We could start with an apartment, first,” Peter chuckled, throwing bits of his laundry basket into the washer. “I was looking at listings—”

“I thought you wanted me to move into your place?”

“We need a place of our own,” Peter said. “You were right, my studio isn’t going to cut it, and I want to spend more time together. Our weekends are the best time of the week, and any night I spend with you is a night where I actually get some semblance of sleep—for the most part, anyway.”

The entire laundromat lit up, Peter was certain her smile was the culprit. 

“You were looking at listings?” She asked shyly, digging through the basket to help Peter load the washer. 

“Most of it was out of our budget,” he admitted, “but it was a start.”

She hummed in agreement. “We’ll look together tonight, then.”

“Sounds perfect,” Peter grinned. “Oh! Could you double check my pockets? I keep forgetting change and stuff in them.”

“What about old receipts?” (Y/N) giggled, obliging to his request. She pulled a pair of khakis out of the basket, gingerly fishing her hand in the pockets. “I think I’m entitled to any change I find, Parker.”

“You can have whatever you find,” Peter agreed, his voice a little shaky. 

Turning the back pockets inside out, she found nothing in the first pair, throwing it unceremoniously into the washer. With a bit more haste, she rifled through the second pair—the pair she had bought him a while back. Her fingers came across something round and cool. Change, it had to be. 

“I think I just became twenty five cents richer,” she laughed, pulling the item out of the pocket, expecting a quarter. Instead, it was a smooth ring, delicate and without any stones, but still elegant. “What…?”

“It’s not a house on the water,” Peter started, looking down at the ring in her hands. “It’s also not a new apartment, but it’s a start, right?”

“Peter Parker, if you’re proposing to me in a laundromat—”

“It’s also not a proposal,” he corrected, “I’m gonna get you a better ring for that, I promise. Besides, it’s not very romantic here, is it?”

She looked up at him, his eyes staring into her own. Big and beautiful, that’s what she always thought of his eyes. Like they held the answer to every question in the universe, and in a way, they did. “It’s a promise ring?”

He shrugged, his ears growing a bit pink. “When you say it like that it sounds a little… middle school, but in a way, yeah, it is a promise ring.”

“Girls my age are expecting engagement rings,” she said, looking back down at the ring in her hand. It was her size, she didn’t even need to try it on to know it. How did he figure out her ring size? 

“I promise baby,” Peter stepped towards her, grabbing her hand, closing her fingers around the ring. “I’m gonna get you that ring. I just thought it’d be nice to have something to wear on your finger in the meantime—before we do real adult things like move in together. A-and this way, you can help me pick out your real engagement ring! I have a really good idea of what you like, but I don’t ever want you to look down at your hand and thing ‘man, I wish Peter chose this instead of this’, you know?”

“Honey,” (Y/N) said, looking back up at him. “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m nervous.”

She chuckled. “How do you expect yourself to actually propose if you can hardly give me a promise ring?”

“Hadn’t thought that far,” Peter shook his head. “But it’s for you, I’m willing to do anything for you.”

He meant that. 

She knew he meant that.

“Am I supposed to put it on myself?”

Peter quickly scrambled to open her hand to grab the ring from her, nearly dropping the thing. “You want to wear it?”

“My boyfriend got me a pre-engagement ring,” she nearly rolled her eyes. “You expect me not to wear it?”

He pushed the ring onto her left hand, fourth finger. Peter gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lovingly. “I promise, you’ll get a better ring from me one day. S-soon! Like, as soon as I have the money, I swear to it, honestly.”

“Pete,” she placed her now-ring-clad hand on his face. 

“Right,” his shoulders deflated, “rambling. Sorry.”

She kissed his cheek. “It’s all very sweet and very you, Peter Parker. I love it.”

A dryer alarm buzzed, startling the both of them. “You do?”

“Well, I love you, and that’s enough,” (Y/N) smiled. “Besides, I like the idea of wearing a ring you got me—and the idea of helping you pick out the real thing? That basically sold the idea for me.”

“You’d say yes if I asked?”

“I agreed to your pre-engagement engagement ring, did I not? You’re not losing me that easily, Peter. I’m gonna hold out for the real thing.”

“We’ll go ring shopping as soon as we find a place,” Peter said seriously. “Move in, graduate, all that.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“A lot,” Peter agreed. “Sometimes it helps to fill the time when I’m swinging around town. I usually am thinking about you, anyway, anytime of day.”

“That’s so crazy,” she said, voice teetering on sarcastic. “Because I’m usually thinking about you, too.”

“Pretty crazy,” he smiled, pulling her into him. With careful hands, he lifted her face towards his, a silent invitation. One she was more than happy to respond to. 

Kissing Peter Parker was one of life’s greatest pleasures, she was sure of it. Granted, she had really never kissed anyone else, high school sweethearts and all of that, but she knew it really couldn’t get better than this. The slightly chapped kisses, the way he would lick his lips when they parted, how he would nip at her bottom lip in protest if she thought about stopping the kiss too soon—it was all perfect. Of course, kissing in a slightly shady laundromat was a bit of a turn off. 

“Pete,” she said, pulling back.

“Can I not kiss my girlfriend?” He nearly begged, holding her against him a bit tighter. 

“I can’t be your girlfriend,” she said seriously. “I mean, not with this flashy new ring and all—seems a bit juvenile with that title, no?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Partners,” she shrugged, feeling him pepper kisses against her cheek, her nose. “It seems more grown up, anyway. Now, when I go into class or work and they comment on my ring I can say, ‘oh, my partner got me that’.”

“Babe, I’m your partner in anything,” he laughed, pressing his forehead against her own. “If you’d like to change our terms of endearment—I’m all aboard.”

“It’d only be for a short while, anyway,” (Y/N) said, smirking against his lips, capturing them in another kiss. “Then I can call you my fiancé…”

“Romantic.”

“Then my husband,” she teased. 

“Oh I do like the sound of that,” Peter nodded. “(Y/N) Parker has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“What about Peter (Y/L/N)?” (Y/N) asked, quirking her brow. “You could be progressive.”

“We could hyphenate?”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “Parker is a fine last name. A little basic, but perfectly suitable.”

“We’re kinda basic people, are we not?” Peter chuckled.

“Let me just go and ask your friend Spider-Man that,” she said seriously. “I’m sure he’d disagree?”

“Oh, speaking of!” Peter stepped away from her. “I need to wash… well, y’know—”

“It’s already soaking in the sink back at your place,” she said simply. “Trying to get all the dried blood off of it and all.”

Peter’s eyes nearly melted in affection. “What would I ever do without you?”

She smiled back in kind, a lovesick sort of way. “Not your laundry, that’s for sure. Come on, Parker, we’ve gotta finish this load. Sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go home.”

A rogue ray of sunlight hit her new ring just right, making the band shine brightly against her hand as she continued to throw his dirty clothing into the washing machine. “Yeah, let’s finish this up,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

[ironstrange1991]

A Night Like No Other

+18 Smut

Pairing: Doctor!Strange, Defender!Strange, Supreme!Strange x Female!Reader

Synopsis: It's Valentine's day night and you prepare a special night for your Stephens.

Word Count: 9,5k

Warnings: Polyamorous relationship dinamics, a little jealousy, mostly brain rot SMUT: oral sex with male and female receiving, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, creampie, cum eating (There's probably more but I don't remember)

A/N: I'm so happy to finally be posting this fic. I know it's two months late, but I've put so much work into it that I really can't believe it's ready. I really hope you guys like it and have a great read ;)

"Not this one." You murmured, looking at your endless collection of heels in your closet. "No, definitely not this one. Maybe… this one." You took a pair of red sandals in your hands, but then changed your mind when your eyes found the perfect pair you knew you were looking for. A pair of black Christian Louboutin pumps.

You stood on tiptoe to reach them and then you smiled mischievously to yourself heading to the bedroom bench and put them on. It had been a while since you wore those and you couldn't deny that you felt so powerful in them.

You folded your legs on the bench, positioning your feet so that your heels were clearly visible and took a photo, sending it directly to your three main contacts and giggling to yourself while writing the most cliché pick-up line you could think of at that moment.

WHEN YOU GUYS GET HOME TONIGHT, THIS IS ALL I'LL BE WEARING. ♥️

You replicated the message to the other two Stephens, reading it out loud to make sure the message was clear enough: You were waiting for the three of them that night to celebrate Valentine's Day.

You remembered perfectly the fiasco that was the last one. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it definitely could have been a lot better. It had all happened because you weren't clear enough about what you wanted for the night, or at least you convinced yourself that it was your fault. You found you always put the blame on yourself so you didn't need to blame one Stephen or the other, but the truth was that navigating between the ego and jealousy of the three of them was the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your life.

It didn't take long for your cell phone to buzz with a response.

I WOULD ENJOY SO MUCH MORE IF THE SURPRISE WAS JUST FOR ME, BUT I CAN'T WAIT TO GET HOME TONIGHT.

You didn't need to read the name at the top of the message to know it was Supreme, but even if it was hidden behind jealousy, you could capture the anxiety he felt about returning home and it made you smile from ear to ear. God, you had been with the three Stephens for a little over a year and a half, but you seriously doubted you would ever get used to the way they made you feel. Every time they came home you felt butterflies in your stomach, each loving message made your heart flutter in your chest. It was beautiful and scary at the same time.

You left your shoes on the floor next to the bench and went back to the closet, slipping into jeans and a jumper.

As you were grabbing your bag and keys and heading to the doors to leave you heard the familiar hiss of a portal opening and a smile played on your lips before you saw it was just Wong.

"You shouldn't look so disappointed every time I come in. It's offensive." He said. You never knew when Wong was being serious or not, so you rushed to defend yourself.

"Today is Valentine's Day. I have reasons to be anxious for my boyfriends to get home."

Wong nodded as he dragged some boxes and then closed the portal. "Good thing you reminded me. That's reason enough for me not to want to be less than half a planet away from this Sanctum tonight. As if three Stranges wasn't reason enough."

"You say that, but I know deep down you can't live without Stephen, Wong." You smirked, unable to hold your tongue.

He scoffed "Yeah, right. Defender isn't that bad. The other two are the problem."

"Do not tell me that." You agreed "I'm going to the grocery store to get some things to prepare dinner. Do you want me to bring you something? I'm going to go near the Sandwich bar that sells that tuna melt that you love so much..."

"It's very kind of you to offer, but unfortunately - or fortunately - I'm returning to Kamar Taj."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then. Bye."

"Bye."

When you parked in parking lot you heard your cell phone ringing and ran to answer it when you saw Stephen's name on the display.

"Hello you"

"Sending indecent photos to distract me from work. You should be embarrassed, sweetheart."

"Really? And what's indecent about the photo of my feet wearing those shoes?"

You can almost see him smirking on the other end of the line before replying, "Other than the message you sent with it, you mean?"

You giggled to yourself "And how effective was my attempt to make you want to come home sooner?"

"Hm, very effective."

You were surprised by the sound of a horn and two drivers fighting each other.

"Where are you?" Stephen asked.

"Walmart’s parking lot. I came to get some things to prepare for our romantic Valentine's Day dinner that you guys have been owing me since last year."

"That's great. And how romantic will this dinner be?" He teased.

"Very romantic. The kind where you have to dress all nice for me and wear that cologne of yours that I love."

"Noted. It's a shame I'm going to have to share you tonight, I'd much rather have you all to myself."

You found yourself rolling your eyes and agreeing one hundred percent with Wong, Stephen and Supreme were indeed the problem.

"Behave yourself" You scolded him, taking your bag and walking towards the store entrance. "It's important for me to have you three tonight. I've wanted this for so long..."

"You just had us together last week" He groaned in frustration.

"I'm not talking about... sex, Stephen" You had to lower your voice to say the word as you picked up the cart and headed towards the produce section.

"Really? I must have been fooled by the photo and message you sent half an hour ago."

"Shut up. Of course sex is a big part of tonight, but it's not just about that. It's about being together, talking, listening to music and having good wine."

Stephen hummed "Romance."

"Exactly. Just because you've already won over the girl doesn't mean you don't need to be romantic anymore, Stephen."

He chuckled "I leave the romanticism to Defender, he's better than me at that... and pretty much everything else apparently."

You sighed, finishing picking up the vegetables and heading towards the refrigerators where you hoped to find a good piece of meat to roast with them.

"I love you, Stephen, but please, no display of jealousy tonight. Please?"

"Okay, I'll behave, I promise."

"Thank you."

"I need to go. See you tonight, love."

"See you, Steph."

You turned off your cell phone and put it in your pocket and dedicated yourself to getting the rest of the things that were missing and walked towards the cashier.

...

You weren't exactly a great cook like Defender, but you always had a willingness to learn and some skill so you could even say that you were good in the kitchen.

You chopped the vegetables that consisted of carrots, onions, green beans, broccoli and tomatoes and dedicated yourself to seasoning the meat and put everything together in a pan wrapped with aluminum foil and put it in the oven for what you knew would be at least 2 hours.

While you waited, you decided to take a shower and took the opportunity to shave every inch of your body to make it smooth to the touch. You blow-dried your hair and used a styling mousse and put it in curlers. You took the opportunity to do all the steps of your skin care and applied lotion all over your body, taking the opportunity to use some body oil to give your skin a little shine. You didn’t even notice time passing while you were distracted taking care of yourself and being surprised by the alarm you had set on your cell phone so as not to let you forget about the roast in the oven.

You put on a robe and went downstairs.

The roast was practically done, so you got rid of the aluminum foil, drizzled the meat with more olive oil and just a little fleur de sel and returned to the oven to brown.

When you heard your cell phone buzzing you wiped your hands and rushed to read the message and smile to yourself feeling your heart fluttering in your chest.

ALWAYS A TEASE, BABY. CAN'T WAIT TO GET HOME, JUST A FEW MORE MINUTES AND I'LL BE IN YOUR LOVELY ARMS. LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

You dedicated yourself to preparing the sauce for your pasta and left the pan full of water and salt on the stove, but besides that, everything needed to be put on hold because it was already past 6pm and you knew they would arrive at any moment and although the dinner was an important part of your evening, you were determined that sex should come first.

You turned off the roast, but kept it in the oven and prepared the table with a beautiful red tablecloth, positioning the plates and cutlery, glasses, and, of course, the candlesticks. A romantic dinner needs candlelight.

Once everything was organized, you went upstairs to finish getting ready. You let down your hair that fell in perfect waves to the middle of your back and put just a little gloss on your lips deciding that there was no reason to wear makeup since soon you would be with your face being pushed into the mattress. You smiled mischievously to yourself feeling the desire built inside you. You put on your heels and kept your promise not to wear anything other than them, keeping only the robe on until at exactly 7pm you heard the familiar squeak of a portal.

You smiled, feeling your cheeks get slightly warm and, taking off your robe, you left the room towards the entrance hall.

...

Stephen smiled to himself as he read the text you sent him. He would have replied it instantly if he hadn't been stuck in a meeting with the Avengers. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were going over all the details about the next mission and although Stephen knew the importance of resolving the problem as soon as possible, he was not at all happy about having to participate.

Supreme was at the meeting too, and Stephen could see the smile on his lips as he read a message on his cell phone that Stephen was sure was exactly the same as the one he had read. You wouldn't make the mistake of not being democratic in your provocation, not after the events of last Valentine's Day. It was extremely important to you that the three of them knew that you loved them equally.

Supreme quickly typed a response without bothering to be discreet, but Stephen preferred something more intimate, so he just put his cell phone back in the pocket of his robes.

"We will be in unknown territory, dealing with forces of which we have no knowledge..." Steve Rogers was pointing out the importance of concentrating on every detail of the plan, but was then cut off by Stark.

"Yeah, yeah, supernatural stuff. That's why we'll be taking with us not one, but two wizards."

Stephen rolled his lips, uncomfortable with the use of the wrong term. He wasn't a wizard and Stark knew that because he had already explained the difference a hundred times, but now Stephen was almost certain that Stark was referring to him that way to provoke him. Supreme, on the other hand, interrupted him, deciding to explain to the small Avengers audience.

"The correct term is sorcerer. Wizards are born with magic, we learned it with a lot of study and effort, although for us it came almost naturally."

Stark rolled his eyes, but continued with the explanation.

When the meeting ended Stephen managed to sneak into an empty room and call you. He wanted much more than just calling, he wanted to leave immediately, but first he needed to get back to Kamar Taj.

Once he and Supreme managed to leave the Avengers Tower, they headed directly there where they met with Wong and Defender and discussed matters relating to the maintenance of the Kamar Taj itself, the teaching and training of students, and the protection of the three Sanctums of power of the Earth. When the small informal meeting ended, Stephen looked at the clock realizing that it must already be almost 7pm in NY and was quick to decline Wong's offer to stay for tea.

"We have an appointment at home." Stephen explained evasively, but Wong smirked as if he knew more than Stephen could imagine.

"Sure, sure. Valentine's day and all. Y/n is planning a special night, I imagine."

Stephen nodded. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"You can call us if anything happens, as always." Defender added to what Supreme contradicted.

"Definitely not tonight. There are dozens of other masters you can call, Wong. We're off for the night and probably a good part of tomorrow as well."

Wong didn't bother to respond. He just closed some books that were on the table and organized them into a pile, picking them up and heading out the door.

"What a fucking day! I thought it would never end." Supreme complained.

"Let's go home" Defender said with a tired sigh and Stephen opened a portal being welcomed by the delicious smell of food and the realization of finally being home.

...

Defender Strange was sure that nothing in the world could be better than coming home and being greeted by his wife, but when he saw you coming down the stairs completely naked wearing only the heels you showed him in the photograph you sent earlier, he didn't know what to think. That fulfills all his fantasies.

You were beautiful. You are beautiful. The curvaceous body, the full breasts, the long hair cascading down to the middle of your back, little or no makeup other than a pink gloss on your lips and the typical smile of someone who promises and wants to be extremely provocative, but in reality it’s a shy little thing.

He didn't know how he was looking at you, much less how the other Stephens were reacting to that vision of paradise in front of them, but you stopped at the bottom of the stairs and your cheeks turned red.

"So?" Your voice sounded low.

Supreme took the initiative and approached you and touched your face affectionately and kissed your lips. Defender felt a pang of jealousy when you and Supreme were close, but he was used to not showing it and on the other hand - however contradictory it was - he couldn't deny that he liked seeing you with the other Stephens, that always turned him on.

"You look beautiful, honey."

Your cheeks turned a darker shade of red that Defender found charming.

"I confess the idea seemed sexier when I sent the message. Now I'm too self-conscious."

"You look beautiful" Defender and Stephen responded together and then laughed softly at the situation.

"Come here, give me a kiss, sweetheart. I loved the reception you prepared for us. You know I always love everything you do for us."

You took the hand he offered you and walked closer. Stephen grabbed the back of your head and pulled you to his lips and Defender felt his cock throb inside his pants. He wanted you so much. Ever since he saw that message, all he could think about was the moment he would have you on his lap riding him.

"I made dinner. Well, it's almost ready. There are still a few things to finish."

"I guess we can think about food later, don't you think?" Supreme suggested. "You have other needs that I want you to satisfy first." He smirked "That text... did things to me, honey."

Defender smirked. Supreme was so cheesy sometimes.

He finally approached you and touched your face.

"So bold sending us that photo when I know at home you're super shy, baby."

You blushed even more.

"Did you like it?"

"I loved the surprise. I loved that you prepared something special for our Valentine's Day. I love you so much, Y/n. There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not grateful for having you in my life."

You wrapped your arms around his neck. "Defender Strange... how can I not love you when you say those things?"

He chuckled watching you hold his hand and take Stephen's hand and adjust it to hold them in one hand, while taking Supreme's hand with the other "Come on, let's go up stairs."

...

The master bedroom, Stephen's room, was the largest room in the Sanctum. Supreme had a hard time accepting Stephen staying with it, but he was aware that it made sense. For better or worse, Stephen was the Doctor Strange of that universe. That room was the setting for almost every night you had sex together for obvious reasons, it was the biggest room, it had the biggest bed and it felt the most right somehow and Supreme felt the familiar twist in his stomach caused by anxiety when you led the three of them directly to that room.

It was something difficult to explain and he never talked about it with the other Stephens - although he was sure the others felt the same way - but the reality was that he loved sharing you. He loved watching the other Stephens fuck you even though it also filled him with jealousy. Jealousy was hot.

Supreme still remembered the first time, it was your birthday and you had sex together for the first time. It was unforgettable, but everyone was so nervous and insecure that it was not possible to fully appreciate the moment. Now it was different. Foursomes became a common thing in your lives and every time it was incredible. Supreme always had the best orgasms when you let him cum in your mouth while he watched Defender and Stephen fucking you. It was so fucking hot. He was sure he could get stressed and jealous sometimes, but he could never be bored with the life you led. He often felt like he was living inside a porn movie. In the best way.

"Tell me, honey, what do you want to do with us tonight?" He teased when he realized how unsure you were about your next steps.

You bit your lip and then glanced to the two levitation cloaks still tied to his and Stephen's shoulders.

"Could you leave us alone for a moment?" You asked, gently stroking his blue cloak.

The two sentient relics flew out the door and slammed the door on the way out. His cloaky looking particularly offended at being left out.

"I'm pretty sure he wanted to stay and watch." Supreme joked, drawing a soft laugh from your lips.

"He's a brat. So different from Cloaky."

"The relic acquires the owner's behavior." Stephen teased.

"It's explained then" You said, approaching Supreme and kissing him with the passion he would never get used to. Sometimes it was impossible to understand how you could love him so much when he knew how complicated he was. But you loved him and that was always very clear in the way you touched him and especially kissed him.

You broke the kiss and smiled at him, "I love you. I know I say it every day, but today it's even more important to say it."

Supreme opened his mouth to respond, but you were ripped away from him by Stephen's arms, who pulled you to his chest in a clear display of jealousy. You giggled. You loved that. Supreme knew very well. You hated it when they fought - and they fought all the time - but you loved it all the same. You loved the triple attention you received, the kisses, the caresses and vows of love you received every day.

"Now you're going to have to say that to me too, sweetheart. You know I'm a jealous man." Stephen teased and you let out small giggles.

You held his face in your hands and spoke softly. "And I thought Supreme was the most jealous of the Stephens."

"Don't underestimate me, love."

You smiled openly, "I love you, Steph. You know how much."

He smiled proudly, "Then show me, kiss me and call me what you call me when we're alone."

Supreme felt the familiar tightening in his chest that jealousy caused in him and you gave Stephen a reprimanding glare.

"Come on, sweetheart. They know."

Supreme rolled his eyes when you smiled in surrender and kissed Stephen hard.

"I love you Steph. My Stephen."

He smiled smugly, but it was cut off by your direct order. "Now get in that shower, because I love you, but you're all sweaty."

He chuckled nodding in agreement "Yes ma'am."

Supreme even tried to stop himself from laughing, but he couldn't. However, you approached him right away.

"You too, Stephen. You three are sweaty."

He smirked "Want me to get in the shower with him?"

Defender chuckled, but said nothing.

"The idea is temptingly sexy, but I think you'd better use your shower."

He agreed, but couldn't help but point out "I thought we would get straight to the best part, that you were missing us so much and couldn't wait to have us in your arms."

"I am and that was the idea, but reality often prevails over fantasy and the three of you are smelling the heat of Kathmandu."

Ouch. "Okay, I'm coming." He said surrendering. Stephen was already in the shower, the sound of the water indicating that Supreme was behind in the race to get back into your arms first.

...

You were super self-conscious about being the only naked person there and wearing those heels on top of that. The sexy image of the situation that popped into your head when you sent the text to them was long gone, but all it took was a smile from Defender to make you feel better.

"I'm still surprised by how naturally you can deal with the three of us, you know? It's almost as if you were made for us." He said pulling you into his arms.

"Almost?" You asked with a raised eyebrow, to which he smiled in surrender.

"Definitely made for us." He corrected and kissed you tenderly.

"Practice makes perfect."

"In our case, I would say that time has helped a lot. Do you remember last year?" He teased to which you grimaced.

"Don't even remind me."

He laughed softly "I'm going to take a shower too. Wait for me. Promise?"

You smiled throwing yourself onto the bed "I'll be right here. Don't be long."

You lay down on the bed, pulling Stephen's pillow close to your nose so you could bask in his scent and a victorious smile played on your lips as you realized for the thousandth time that you were about to go to bed with three Stephens. Sex was important. God, the sex was incredible, but what really enchanted you about it was the realization of being loved by Stephen. Some people are never loved, you were loved and not just once but three times and by the same man. That meant something.

Defender always talked to you about how he believed that the love you felt for each other went beyond the barriers of universes and you couldn't say how, but you were sure he was right. You loved Stephen the moment you first saw him and it was like that with Defender and Supreme and god help you, you would never say that to them, but if ten more Stephens appeared in your universe, you would have no choice but to love them too.

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts that you even noticed that Stephen had gotten out of the shower, only realizing it when his baritone voice pulled you out of your reverie.

"A penny for your thoughts." He teased and you smiled, rolling over on the bed so you could see him. He was wet from the shower, the towel tied around his waist but hanging dangerously below his v line, his hair wet and carelessly pulled back.

"God, you're a beautiful bastard."

He raised his eyebrow and a cocky smile played on his lips.

"So that's what you were thinking about? How beautiful I am?"

You rolled your eyes dramatically. "Don't be cocky. Come on, put your tongue to do something more productive than bragging."

He threw himself on the bed, crawling over you and tickling the sides of your ribs, which made you giggle.

"No, please Steph, I can't..."

"Not so bossy now, are you?" " He teased "Then tell me how you want me to use my tongue then."

You held his face in your hands. “Like this.”

You kissed him hard and he hummed adorably on your lips, but soon after he took control of the kiss and started to grind an obvious erection on your thigh.

"Look what you do to me. You haven't even touched me yet and I'm already like this. To be honest, you've made me hard since you sent me that photo. You have no idea how much I wanted to abandon what I was doing and come home to fuck you."

You smiled smugly and kissed his lips again "It worked then."

"You have no idea" He said on your lips "But I would rather have this night just for the two of us."

You pouted "Behave. You know how important it is for me to have these moments for the four of us, especially on special dates like today."

He smirked "I know you're dirty and insatiable, that's why you need three of me to handle you."

You felt your face flush, but there was no reason to deny it. "It's true, but it's only because I love you so much. That's what I was thinking actually, how I love you so much to the point of loving three versions of you."

He kissed you and went back to grinding himself on your thigh. He was trying to hold back, but you knew he was dying to have you and knowing that made you feel so powerful.

"Sometimes I think I don't deserve so much love..."

"Shhh, of course you do. You deserve that and more. And you can accuse me as much as you want of being insatiable for wanting three of you, but we both know that you like sharing me in bed."

Now it was his turn to blush and that made a petulant smile appear on your lips.

"Do not tease me." He warned, but you weren't about to go back on your words.

"Why not? What are you going to do? Fuck me senseless? Hard and rough? Thank god, that’s what I want."

He held your chin tight. "That's what you're going to get if you don't behave."

"Then I won't behave." You threatened and Stephen pulled you into his lips, but the two of you were interrupted by the creak of the door opening and Supreme's voice.

"And why won't you behave, honey?" He asked and you just smiled watching him approach. He was only dressed in sweatpants and his face was slightly flushed showing that he had shaved before coming back to you. He threw himself on the bed and opened his arms waiting for you to throw yourself into them and Stephen rolled to the other side of the bed letting you have your moment together.

You hugged him and he wrapped you in his arms kissing you hard and then looked at Stephen waiting for an answer.

"She's being a brat and I warned her there will be consequences." Stephen informed Supreme and you laughed, turning to face him, but letting yourself be enveloped and pulled closer by Supreme's arms.

"Maybe I want to be punished." You confessed and Supreme groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"What did we do to deserve a girl like you, honey?"

You let out a small laugh "I hope you mean that positively."

He giggled "Always."

Stephen laughed softly and Supreme pulled you into his lips again. You let yourself be guided, your hands touched his face and a satisfied hum escaped your lips.

"You shaved. I prefer it like this." You said with a smirk to which he chuckled.

"You live with a Stephen who has a goatee and another who has a full beard but can't handle a little stubble?

You shook your head, stroking his face. "It's not the same. I like having a clean shaved Stephen." You rum your index finger on his chin "It's smooth"

Stephen giggled and you rolled closer to him pulling him to your lips “I like the differences.”

"Yeah, we know" They both laughed softly and you took turns holding their lips and hands and that felt like heaven to you. There was no other word to explain it.

Defender arrived a minute later, his hair loose as it rarely was and wearing a pair of pajama pants that made his v line and a prominent erection very visible. You wondered if he had been hard the whole time or if seeing you in bed with Stephen and Supreme had immediately left him in that state. You knew well that Defender liked to observe. All three liked it.

"We've been waiting for you, baby. Come here." You reached out to him and sat on the bed between the Stephens to welcome him with a kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he let himself be pulled on top of you, your legs opening for him to settle between them to which he moaned softly.

"She's so greedy" Stephen told Supreme "...and so fucking perfect. Fuck, sweetheart. I need you."

You smiled smugly on Defender's lips and gently pushed him to let you stand up.

"So tell me what you guys want. I confess I spent the day thinking about sucking your cocks."

"So fucking dirty." Defend hissed.

"She was never a saint, but I admit she got a lot worse with your arrival." Stephen replied with that beautiful smile on his lips.

You loved that. You loved it when they talked about you like that between them, you loved seeing them understanding each other and talking to each other as if they were a single person - which in fact they were - it was a strong turn on for you.

Supreme smiled seeming to read your mind. "I think she might start with that, don't you? I can only speak for myself, but I've been dying for a blowjob ever since I saw that text."

Stephen nodded "Yeah, me too. But I'm going to want more than a simple blowjob and she knows that."

Defender chuckled and you pouted feigning innocence.

"Are you going to let these two mean Stephens abuse me, baby?"

He cupped your face in his hands and hummed condescendingly, "More than that, baby. I'll love watching."

You could have cum with just those words. You were so wet between your legs that your thighs were sticking together and you could smell your arousal. All that teasing, the game you played was exactly what worked for you, it was what made you love having the three of them at the same time and it worked perfectly when they behaved themselves and tonight they were more than determined to behave, apparently.

"I think I saw a blush on these cheeks." Stephen teased and you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Shut up and get comfortable you three."

They laughed and got comfortable on the bed, sitting next to each other and that sight never failed to impress you. It was so pornographically glorious. You smiled to yourself and tied your hair in a bun with the same determination as a warrior preparing for a fight. You were definitely a woman on a mission.

"Come here, sweetheart, I want to be first." Stephen asked, extending his hand to you. You crawled over to him and kissed him sweetly and your hands freed him from the towel. He raised his hips enough for you to pull and throw it on the floor. He was so hard already. The tip was red and slightly sticky with precum. You couldn't resist, so you held him tight and kissed his head feeling your eyes close and a moan of satisfaction escape your lips as the other Stephens giggled.

"Don't get cock drunk yet, honey, there are two more cocks to suck." Supreme teased.

Stephen held your face, taking his cock in his hand and impatiently directing it into your mouth. "Take it, sweetheart. Give me a hard suck."

You opened your mouth big for him and did as he asked, emptying your cheeks to suck hard, which made him moan outrageously loud. "Oh yeah, sweetheart. Show me what you can do."

But he didn't give up control, on the contrary, he held the back of your head and pushed you against his dick making you swallow it whole and gag in the process.

"Look at that!" Supreme exclaimed and you couldn't see him now with your eyes closed, but you'd bet all your chips that he had his cock in his hands, jacking off as he watched. He was dirty like that, and you loved that about him.

You could barely breathe with your mouth stuffed with Stephen's cock like that, tears welled up in your eyes and ran down your face.

"She takes it so perfectly." Defender pointed out. "She was made for us, wasn’t she?"

Stephen moaned in satisfaction, taking his cock out of your throat to let you breathe.

"I could cum in your throat right now. That's how good this mouth in my cock feels, sweet girl."

You coughed and ran your hands over your face to wipe away the tears and smiled. "I love when you call me like that."

Stephen smirked, "Yeah? You love everything I do to you, sweetheart. Now come here and give me a kiss before I let you go with them."

You let yourself be pulled to his lips and kissed him hard, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"I love you." You said between his lips.

"I love you too. Go now and make me proud."

"Always" You assured, letting yourself be enveloped by Defender's arms. He kissed you hard. Harder than usual and his fingers tangled in your hair and your knees went weak.

"Seeing you with them drives me crazy, baby. I can't deny that I like this more than I should." He confessed in your ear, but loud enough for the others to hear.

"They like it too" You teased throwing a mischievous glance at the other two. "Let's give them something to watch."

Defender smirked letting you free him from his pants. He wasn't wearing any underwear and you doubted there was anything sexier than a handsome man wearing pants without underwear. You threw his pants on the floor and planted a kiss on his lips before spitting into your hand and holding him, moving up and down slowly, keeping eye contact with him the entire time.

One of the things that became increasingly clear to you as time went by was that they were different in almost every way even though they were the same person. With Defender what worked was calmness, glances, affection. He might fuck you harder eventually, but almost every time you made love it was slow, calm and delicious. And that was how he liked to be touched.

He bit his lip to hold back a moan when you bent down and gave a long lick from the base to the tip, stopping to flick your tongue on the head.

You smiled proudly. "Don't hold back, baby. Let me hear you. I like hearing how happy I'm making you." You asked, taking him in your mouth and sucking slowly, using your tongue all the time the way he liked.

He moaned louder, but still restrained. One of his hands grabbed your hair, but he didn't push. Defender never pushed. "So, so happy, baby. Shit... this lips feels so good wrapped around my cock like that."

You felt his cock throbbing in your mouth and you took it out of your mouth smiling your best smile at him. "Yeah? Your cock feels amazing pulsing in my mouth too. But I don't want you to cum yet, baby."

He shook his head "It doesn't matter, you know I have as many rounds as you want to give you."

"Shit, that sounded presumptuous even to us, but coming from him it sounds even weirder." Supreme teased, but Defender completely ignored him pulling you into his lips.

"Tell me you love me." He asked softly on your lips and you buried your face in his neck, surrendering to his charm.

"More than anything, baby. Love you so much."

Defender held your chin and kissed you softly. "Better not let Supreme hear that." He said with a provocative smile on his lips that wasn't really like him, but that made him even more handsome.

Impatient, Supreme took your hand pulling you from Defender's lap gently but insistently. "Come here, honey. I've waited too long."

You couldn't help but giggle at the serious way he said it. As if you were somehow making him suffer by waiting his turn.

You let yourself be manhandled and he positioned you straddling his lap. "Always you, isn't it, Supreme Strange?"

He smirked positioning his shaking hands to the sides of your neck and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

"You complain, but you love the way I am, honey."

You could have rolled your eyes, but you didn't want to provoke him so you didn't. "If what you want is for me to suck your cock, you should try to be less cocky."

He gave you that beautiful sideways smile of his, "But I know you want to blow me as much as I want it."

"Seriously, just for tonight, can't you be less of yourself, Supreme?" Stephen complained and although you weren't looking at him, you could almost hear his eyes rolling.

"You better get to work, honey."

You let out a small giggle and dismounted his lap, helping him get rid of the pants he was wearing and immediately took him in your hands. He was so deliciously hard for you, the tip wet with precum from being stimulated by his own hands. You licked the tip to savor the salty taste and this time you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling back, but for an entirely different reason.

"Oh fuck, honey. Put it all in your mouth, please. Suck it hard, make me cum. I don't care. You know I'm going to stay hard for you anyway."

You did exactly what he asked, adding one hand to his balls, stimulating him as much as possible, rotating the other hand at the base while sucking and licking. Taking your time and enjoying it as much as him.

"So delicious... fuck, honey, keep going just like that. Gonna fill your mouth with milk. I spent all day thinking about doing that."

You hummed contentedly and went even deeper, taking him all the way to the back of your throat and hearing the sounds of approval from the other Stephens at the same time as you felt the mattress dipping and Stephen moving in your peripherals.

"Get your pretty ass up for me, sweetheart." Stephen asked, slapping your ass cheek and you obeyed, moaning loudly when you felt his tongue lapping your folds, the friction of his goatee making you see stars. You immediately started moving your hips against his mouth and he grabbed your thighs, correctly taking the action as encouragement.

Supreme grabbed your hair with one of his hands and pushed you against his cock making you swallow him completely.

"F-Fuck... take it, honey. Take all of it. Oh shit." He moaned loudly spilling down your throat and making your eyes water. He took his cock out of your mouth allowing you to vocalize the pleasure that Stephen's fierce tongue was providing you now that he was sucking your ass.

This was new for you and you didn't understand how it could be so pleasurable, but Stephen had the gift of addicting you to new and different things and you loved it. Sex with them could never get boring.

Supreme patted your cheek and ran his hand through the hair that insisted on falling across his forehead. "That mouth of yours is otherworldly, honey. I just put my dick inside it and I cum."

You smiled, but before you could respond a moan broke through your lips when Stephen added his fingers to the sum of the stimulation, penetrating you with them.

"That's it. Moan loudly for us. Let us hear how good it feels." Supreme teased, holding your chin with one hand and making you suck his index finger.

“Delicious,” Stephen rasped. "I could spend the whole night like this."

But contrary to what he said, he pulled away enough to direct his cock at your entrance and forced it slowly. "So fucking tight. No matter how many times I fuck this pussy, it's always so tight."

You moaned loudly feeling yourself being impaled by his cock and Supreme smirked at something Defender said and walked away letting him get closer to you.

"I want your mouth a little more, baby. Please." He asked, kneeling on the bed in front of you. You placed your hands on his thighs and took him in your mouth again, sucking voraciously. It was hard to be gentle when Stephen was fucking you so hard.

Defender took your hair in his hands and let himself be carried away by the moment. "Fuck baby, so good. You suck my cock so good."

You kept your eyes open to watch him, he had his eyes fixed on Stephen fucking you and you knew that was exactly what was making his dick throb so hard in your mouth. The obscenity of it all.

"Oh God, baby. I love watching you get fucked like this. So fucking hot."

Stephen slapped your ass in agreement. "Come on, sweetheart, suck his cock and make him cum in your mouth. I want to see it." He ordered, increasing the strength of his thrusts, which became increasingly irregular.

Defender moaned loudly and you felt his thighs shaking. "Oh baby... gonna cum... oh yeah baby, can I cum in your mouth?"

You hummed positively and a part of your brain thought it was cute that he had even bothered to ask.

"F-Fuck... oh come on baby... take it..." His voice sounded broken as hot cum filled your mouth. A lot of it.

"So fucking good..." He mumbled between moans, caressing your face and taking his cock out of your mouth. "Let me see it."

You obeyed, opening your mouth so he could see his cum inside and then swallowing and sticking your tongue out at him dramatically so he could see.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful." He murmured, bending down to kiss you and Stephen moaned loudly, giving two harder thrusts and then spilling himself inside you.

"Oh fuck, sweetheart... You're too good to be true." He confessed breathlessly and then pulled out. His cum dripping down your abused pussy.

Your legs shook and you fell face down on the mattress, but Supreme pulled you into his arms.

"Look what you do to us. It's impossible to last when you're so irresistible."

You smiled, pulling him to your lips. "Is this a complaint?"

You heard Defender and Stephen giggling and the sound filled your heart with such great love with the realization that you were having this moment together and they weren't fighting each other, on the contrary, you could swear that at that point they were practically united against you and you didn't know if you could take it.

"And what man would be crazy to complain about having a woman like you, honey?"

You pulled him back to your lips while squeezing your thighs together. They could have had theirs, but you needed to have yours and if possible, you wanted to have it more than once.

Supreme got the message quickly and got between your legs, spreading them with his arms and holding them open while he eat you. He didn't care that Stephen had cum in you seconds before and the notion of that only made the oral even more pleasurable. Your back arched and your eyes closed immediately and a pornographic moan escaped your lips. You could cum right then if he continued, but Supreme had other plans. He licked your ass, leaving enough saliva there and directed his dick at your entrance, penetrating it slowly.

You still remembered the first time you had anal, it was with Supreme and you were so uncertain about the whole thing, but now you loved it, you loved the strange sensation and the peculiar pleasure that took over once he was inside you. . You liked it so much that you wondered if there was something wrong with you since women aren't supposed to enjoy it that much.

Supreme moaned loudly, laying on top of you slowly and giving your body time to get used to the sensation, then he grabbed your thigh and pulled it so that you intertwined your legs around his waist, allowing him to go even deeper.

"Oh Stephen... feels so good." You confessed, wrapping your arms around him. "Move, please."

He did as you asked, moving slowly at first, but gradually increasing the intensity of his thrusts until he reached a frantic rate.

"Y-Yes, oh yes, Steph, just like that, fuck me just like that..."

He took your lips in a desperate kiss, fucking you at the same rhythm incessantly, the bed creaked, the headboard hit the wall and your moans were so loud. Next thing you know, you had one of your hands between you rubbing your clit to get as much stimulation as possible and your legs were shaking and you felt like you were about to cum. No one could be more sexually fulfilled than you at that moment, but that was exactly the problem, you didn't want to finish, not yet.

"Wait... Stephen... wait. Gonna cum... don't make me cum yet."

He stopped and pulled out with a cocky smile plastered on his lips. "That good, uh? Want me to stop for a bit and let the others have fun with you now?"

You nodded biting your bottom lip. Something about the way he said it sounded so dirty.

He rolled to the side running his hand through his hair "You can barely handle one, how can you handle the three of us?" He teased and you found the strength within you to tease back "I can take it. I always do."

He chuckled in satisfaction at your response and you opened your arms allowing Defender to snuggle into them.

"Baby, I need you. Tell me you're ready for me again."

He let himself be hugged and kissed you hard. His lips moved up to your ear and he confided. "I haven’t even softened, baby."

You pulled him to your lips again, but pushed him away so you could get on top of him. He hummed contently letting you take control and direct him inside you. It was to be imagined, given the rivalry that existed between them, that Defender would not like to be in a submissive position when the other Stephens were around. In fact, it was like that at first, but now he didn't care and you were sure the others loved watching. Before Defender you weren't used to being in that position, but with him you got a taste for it and there was nothing in the world that made you feel more powerful than riding him.

His shaking hands grabbed your waist and he moaned loudly feeling you sink down onto his dick. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him to your lips, kissing him desperately as you began to move up and down and gyrating your hips sensually as you did so. You lolled your head back, letting yourself be carried away by the pleasure you felt and Defender took the opportunity to bury his face between your breasts. The other Stephens watched attentively and Stephen, unable not to intervene, grabbed your chin and kissed you.

You kept your pace fast and steady, your body responding to the sensations in all the right ways.

"Oh god, baby, cock feels so good inside me, make me wanna cum so hard." You confessed between moans and Defender pulled you back to his lips.

"Cum for me then, baby. Don't hold back. We've all had one, it's your turn now. You can use me to have it. Fuck me any way you want."

How sweet. He was always so sweet and wonderful all the time that it didn't surprise you that the others were a little more jealous when compared to him and to be honest, you loved it.

"Oh shit, baby. Gonna cum." You moaned loudly, riding him faster and harder, feeling the familiar knot tighten in your stomach.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and your pussy contracted tightly around him.

"Fuck baby... squeezing me so hard... gonna make me cum too."

You were so lost in your pleasure that you could barely form a complete sentence "Please... with me."

Defender moaned loudly, wrapping his arm around your waist and helping you move on top of him and your hands got lost in his hair, pulling him to your lips in one last act of passion and ecstasy until you both came together amidst moans and loudly breathing.

You both came down from your high slowly and there was a proud smile on Defender's lips. He kissed you gently and helped you dismount him.

"Come here, sweetheart." Stephen asked, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. "Let's play a little, what do you think? Me, you and Supreme. You always feel so tight with two dicks inside you."

You bit your bottom lip feeling your cheeks flush, but you let yourself be manhandled. He positioned you on top of his dick and entered you slowly. The squelching sound it made from you being filled with cum was so obscene and so good. You moaned loudly. It didn't matter that you had just cum, you wanted more.

Stephen kissed you and moaned into the kiss. Supreme came from behind, positioning himself in the best way to make the three of you comfortable. The tip of his cock poked your ass and you closed your eyes feeling him slowly penetrate you. It was always a strange sensation, you felt too full and uncomfortable before the pleasure appeared, but it appeared and was always very strong.

"Oh yeah, honey, such a tight ass... squeezing my dick so hard."

You moved slow. Stephen held your waist and helped you slowly move up and down and Supreme carefully moved back and forth. The thing with double penetration is that it's not like it is in the movies, for all parties involved to feel pleasure you need to do it slowly, but once you learn how to do it, it's addictive.

"Oh Stephen... feels so good."

You let yourself be pulled into Supreme's lips and then back into Stephen's as they both thrust into you at a lazy, infectious pace. You loved being fought over like that, there was something devilishly sexy about taking turns between two men's lips. "So fucking good... fucking me... good."

The two laughed softly, observing that you could barely formulate a sentence at that point.

Supreme placed one hand on the headboard and the other on your shoulder and increased the strength of his thrusts and you and Stephen moaned together with the increased stimulation.

"Shit, gonna cum in your ass, honey. Its too good... too tight... I can't..."

He moaned loudly and the grip of his hand on your shoulder also tightened and you felt him cuming inside you.

"F-fuck yes..." He gasped "Oh shit." He grabbed your chin and pulled you into a hard kiss and then pulled out and threw himself on the bed.

Stephen took the opportunity to hold you around your waist and place you underneath him with your face on the mattress and your ass in the air. He quickly penetrated you again and you moaned loudly feeling the delicious sensation of being fucked from behind. But he wasn't gentle, he was too far beyond that, too lost in his own pleasure.

Thrust after thrust he fucked you, pushing your face against the mattress and moaning loudly, completely surrendered, looking for his release.

"You love this, don't you?" He teased "Tell me how much you love taking it from behind."

You moaned loudly feeling like you were close to cumming again. That was something that before the Stephens you thought was impossible, but anal orgasms were possible and were usually the most intense ones you had.

"Steph... gonna make me cum... again." You confessed, completely surrendering to him.

"Yeah? Are you going to cum with my dick in your ass? So fucking dirty. You love being a dirty girl for us, don't you? That's why you sent that text to the three of us, because you wanted to be fucked like that... like a fucking whore."

“Y-yes” You stammered feeling his teasing push you over the edge.

"Then be a good girl and cum with daddy's cock in your ass. Show the other Stephens how much you enjoy it. Come on, sweetheart, I'm right behind you. I'm going to fill this sweet ass with cum."

You moaned loudly, letting yourself be pushed towards the oblivion of everything earthly and launching yourself into ecstasy. Your legs shook beneath him, your entire body shook with the force of your orgasm.

Stephen gave three more thrusts and stopped completely, moaning and letting himself spill inside you. When he was done he brushed your hair away from your face and kissed the top of your head gently and then pulled out and rolled it to the side.

It took you a few seconds to catch your breath and finally turn around and face the ceiling with a silly smile on your lips.

"This was amazing." You praised before giving in to the giggles. "I doubt there is a woman in this world who is more sexually fulfilled than I am tonight."

The three giggled and you felt yourself being pulled into Stephen's arms. He kissed the top of your head before pulling you to his lips. "I can say the same, sweetheart. No man could be happier than we are to have you."

You wrapped your arms around him and felt the tiredness domination you.

“Tired?” Stephen teased.

You smiled lazily  “ I think I need a shower, I'm dripping cum."

The three of them burst into laughter and Defender took the lead, extending his hand to you and helping you stand up.

...

"The pasta is done, baby, we can add it to the sauce now." Defender reported being extremely helpful. He had offered to help you finish dinner while the other Stephens were in the shower and you couldn't refuse to have that sweet domestic moment with him.

"The sauce is already boiling. Can you add the pasta for me while I stir?"

He did as you asked and came back with the parmesan cheese he had magically grated for you to use.

Without holding back, he stole a strand of pasta to try. "It's divine, love. I love the food you make, the seasoning you add... divine." He praised searching for your lips. You kissed him softly and then pulled away, handing him the platter with the roast and vegetables. "Can you take this to the table for me, baby?"

He nodded, taking the dish and walking away and you couldn't help but laugh when you realized how you both were dressed. So different from what you had planned and yet so perfect. He was shirtless, barefoot, with his hair in a bun and was only wearing pajama pants.

"What it it?" He asked confused.

"Nothing" You said "I just realized that we're going to have our romantic dinner dressed like we're having a sleepover."

He smirked "I like seeing you in my old t-shirts."

You smiled hearing the familiar chatting of the other Stephens approaching. "And I love wearing them. Now take these and come back to get the pasta."

He smiled “Yes, love.”

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Hi, could I have a Bucky/reader fic where she is the youngest triplet of Wanda & Pietro (they are all legal) and her power is strength. The three of them are already part of the Avengers when The Winter Soldier takes place and the rest of the Avengers know they aren't just siblings but in love but don't care as they realise the three of them grew up with only the other two to depend on. When the Winter Soldier attacks, reader is the only one who can fight and best him. He realises when she is near, he feels less like the soldier and more like the Bucky that Steve claims he is so when Steve offers help, he takes it to be nearer the reader. He makes it obvious he is interested and she is too but makes it clear that if anything is going to happen, he has to be okay with Wanda & Pietro who are fine with it because they know she still loves and will never abandon them. It takes a while but he soon realises that she does care for him and while he only cares and is attracted to/loves her, the four of them become their own little group. Bucky still has moments where he loses control but they are fine as they know as long as reader is with him, things are fine. Hope this was detailed enough for you and thanks.

Trial By Fire

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Maximoff!Reader, Pietro Maximoff x Maximoff!Reader x Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: i kept a lot of concepts from the original requests, but changed a bit of it, implied sibling incest, triplets, mentions of past torture, mentions of past abuse, pietro is alive, polyamorous, jealousy, cheating?, bittersweet, angst, mdni, canon character death mentioned, ooc pietro?, still adjusting to writing for him lol

Words: 3169

Nothing shocked you anymore. Not after the life you've had.

Living in Sokovia, there was constant political and military strife that wrecked havoc in the city you and your family resided in. While the mortar shell that killed your parents, it was something to be expected. Many of your school friends didn't have parents anymore. Tragic but there was nothing to be done about it. Nothing that ten year olds could do at least. Were it not for Pietro moving fast to pull you out of the way, you would have been hit by the collapsing ceiling above.

Even HYDRA's experimentation on you and your siblings lost its shock value. They'd been experimenting on people for decades prior to the Maximoff triplets falling into their possession.

Maybe nothing shocked you anymore because of the presence of your siblings that who were never far from you. Wanda always told you that nothing bad could ever truly happen to any of you as long as the three of you stuck together. No one else was worthy of your trust except for Wanda and Pietro.

You never did mind how small your world was before the Avengers changed your lives. You had each other and that was more than enough.

Siblings

Protectors

Lovers

Lines were blurred, ultimately erased over time so that you and your siblings weren't conscious of right or wrong.

It was impossible for you to love anyone else. Pietro and Wanda were your everything. Loving each other unabashedly despite the taboo of your relationship. Why should that change who you are as people? In your core, you and your siblings were good people who may have done wrong things in the past but were on the path to redemption.

You don't remember when it started.

Definitely a little before you and your older brother and sister joined HYDRA.

There were vague memories of the orphanage that you were forced to live in after your mother and father's death. Once you were legal and kicked out to live your own lives did all three of you begin your own. . . experiments with one another. With how you grew up, it was difficult to trust anyone else outside of your trio. Uncomfortable even when someone who was interested in either of you made a pass. You were extremely hesitant and Pietro and Wanda were even worse off with their own jealousy.

Originally when the other members discovered the truth, there was tension. Starting with Tony flirting with you and Pietro getting possessive, being the eldest of the three of you. He took the protective big brother role to the next level.

In the blink of an eye he had Tony by the throat. That was when the truth really came out. Even Wanda's scarlet magic flared in the irises of her eyes. Scarlet that glowed and vibrated all around her. She'd placed you behind her outstretched arm. Her eyes illuminated in red as she glared at the Iron Man.

Natasha was the one to become comfortable with the idea first. She was the last one who would ever judge the circumstances in which people fell in love.

Quite a few avoided you and the other two-thirds of your trio. It hurt to see their initial rejection after all of the times you'd saved their lives. Was it not the Maximoff triplets who stopped Ultron? You'd started as villains, that much you would never deny. HYDRA brainwashed you with propaganda at a young age; disadvantaged by your age and subsequent naivete.

In spite of the oddity of your triplet relationship, you were able to make a comfortable home among the Avengers. It felt like the world was your's. You had things that you never had growing up.

So why did your heart skip a beat when the man known as the Winter Soldier was inducted into the group?

There was no such thing as love at first sight but you feel like this was pretty close. Rather, there was an immediate spark of attraction ignited between the two of you. The moment his steely eyes land on you, you were a goner. He was beautiful in a dark, tattered kind of way. Both weapons that HYDRA created. Corrupted by their instruments of pain and given a new, morbid life with fantastical power.

Understandable that you would be wary of potential amorous intent from Bucky's part. You first didn't get why someone other than your siblings would reciprocate your feelings. For so long you'd had just Wanda and Pietro. It felt wrong somehow to even daydream about Bucky.

When someone new joined the Avengers, the atmosphere was always strained. The dynamic of the team having to accomadate another hero. Letting the pressure settle until there was at least a comfortable silence and brief greetings.

You tried not to stare at him. Even tried to ignore his own staring in your direction. If you paid him any attention, your siblings might catch on. And while they shared you between the two of them, they were not quite so ready to share with anyone outside of your family group.

"He's interested in you." Wanda flippantly mentioned when it was just the two of you chilling out in your room. All three of your rooms were connected by adjoining doors, never liking to be too far from the others. Your's was in the middle.

Saying it, Wanda doesn't look up from the tiny brush that paints your nails. You could tell she didn't like it one bit though. Her jaw was tensed and a tendon in her throat juts out. Faint whisps of her scarlet magic lick at her fingertips.

"I'm just friendly to him. That's all. I want him to feel welcome here. He's a lot like us, you know." Tone neutral, your thumb swipes across the screen of your phone. Trying to distract yourself with meaningless social media content. Plenty of pictures of Tony Stark floods your feed making you roll your eyes and finally set down your smart device. "You and Pietro should actually get to know him."

Her eyes immediately flick up to drill into you. "Do you like him?"

"Wanda."

She shoves the nail brush back inside of its bottle and tries to gently place it on the table's surface but you can hear it clink slightly as her hand trembled slightly.

You felt the shift in the room, the only notification you got before Pietro stood in front of where you and Wanda sat.

"What was that?"

You groan and shove yourself out of your seat, not even caring if the polish on your nails was still wet. Switching from English to Sokovian "Both of you need to relax." Holding down Pietro's heavy eyes, you feel ridiculous having to justify being nice to someone.

As a child, you'd never mind the sometimes overbearing affection of your siblings. Especially when they fought for your sake. Whether it be bullies or an evil artificially intelligent android.

They feared losing you like one feared death.

Your dynamic was set in stone. For it to come crumbling down was indeed a terrifying thought.

Then came the day of your assigned mission where Bucky was supposed to be your partner. Sam was also assigned with the both of you.

Prior to that day, you'd never personally seen the Winter Soldier in action. You'd seen all the his portfolio had to offer: grainy soviet era videos, black and white photos of him in a military uniform, and old documents with a typewriter-style font.

Honestly, you were horrified when the switch flipped in him- where he momentarily phased into the Winter Soldier. A merciless killer. He'd even turned on Sam in a moment of clouded confusion

By pure instinct drilled into you by the same facility that Bucky came from, your hand immediately struck out to grab Sam's elbow and with the god-like strength you possessed, threw him behind you. Taking on Bucky's brute force as solid as a shield.

You grapple with Bucky, taking him down to the floor so you could put him into a hold of submission. Sam watches wide eyed as you effortlessly knock out the Winter Soldier with a simple squeeze of the arm that was around his thick neck. Slowly, Bucky's wild eyes dull before closing as he loses consciousness.

Both you and Sam sighed in relief that neither of you were harmed in that moment.

After Bucky regained awareness, he couldn't stop apologizing to you.

"It's alright Buck."

"No, it's not alright." The undertone of his words were coated with frustration. "I'm still. . . HYDRA has stained me."

You frown, not liking how he spoke about himself. You can't help but reach out and grab his metal hand. Gray blue eyes widen in disbelief. You'd always thought he had the most beautiful eyes. Thumb smoothing over cold, metal knuckles. What did your touch feel like to him? Did it send the same electric jolt up his arm the way it did with you?

"HYDRA has not stained you."

When your gazes catch the other's, the urge to kiss him damn near fried your mind.

Plaguing you to later in the day, you were even unable to reciprocate a kiss which Pietro was trying to initiate as he leaned down to you on the bed.

When Pietro notices your reaction, he pulls back in confusion. "Are you okay?"

No you weren't. "Sorry. You surprised me is all." You release a weak chuckle before placing your hands on his face to bring his lips back against your's.

Nagging thoughts banged against the barrier of your mind: "How do Bucky's kisses feel?" "What does his tongue taste like?"

That night when you were nestled between them in bed, you stare up at the ceiling. Unable to fall asleep.

Down the hall, Bucky was going through the same predicament.

Fair that his sleep schedule was in general a mess, now it seemed damn near impossible.

He'd been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for hours. Your touch seared the metal of his arm to where he could still feel its presence.

A lump develops in his throat when he thinks about it again. The pads of your fingers pressing against his knuckles. Something of the old Bucky resurfaced in him. The Bucky that used to take the hand of pretty girls and kiss it with his panty dropping smirk.

When he first met you, Bucky had no explanation for the warmth that flooded his system. Even with you being flanked by your siblings, you shined brighter than either Wanda or Pietro. Perplexingly, he was forced to admit how smitten he was from just that first glance.

Something in the vast and mysterious universe connected the two of you with an invisible tether.

And when he saw you the next morning, hair mussed from sleep and eyes still droopy, Buck thought you were the most spectacular sight.

You skitter to a halt, coffee mug in hand. "Oh! Good morning." Sheepishly, you try to hastily rub the crusts out of your eyes.

He can't imagine how you would look in his bed early in the morning. Like he'd ever get the chance. Not when Pietro glared at him with the fury of a thousand suns. Wanda was no better. Every time she was next to you, Wanda had either a hand or an arm on your persons' as if to send Bucky a message.

Pouring your coffee, his presence over your shoulder is too much to ignore. "I'm sorry if yesterday got a little weird. . ." You murmur, focus on not spilling searing hot coffee all over yourself.

"What do you mean?"

You purse your lips. "Emotions were high yesterday and I may have gotten too. . . familiar with touching your hand. I overstepped the boundary."

When he scoffs, it makes you turn around. He's leaning against the island in the kitchen. Dark hair tied back indicating that he'd worked out prior.

"If it's you, then you're allowed to touch me anywhere."

The mug in your hand nearly falls. "Wh. . ."

His voice has your core waking up in response. Enough to make your knees wobble inward. Bucky received a brief pulse of delight from the rounding of your eyes as you gawked at him.

Standing his ground, Bucky would wait for you to make the next move.

Certainly you were mistaking his playfulness with flirting. That did tend to happen between the two of you. As was the confusing need to feel him close to you.

Steely gray turn a dark, sultry shade as he lifts his chin up a little to look down at you.

You were never one to back down from a challenge.

Finally getting to lay in his arms, bare skin against skin, you realize you'd just created a huge problem. Cue your post-coital panic attack.

As you had calmed Bucky down during your mission, he did the same for you. "Hey, deep breaths. Did I hurt you?"

"No. No it's not you." Wringing the bedsheets between anxious fingers, you cast a worried glance his way. Bucky's lips were red and bruised from the force of your kisses. "Bucky. . . There's something I need to tell you. I-It might make you hate me though."

"I could never."

Once the quiet shock passed, Bucky leans against the pillows. "I already knew all of that."

Detecting the signs of infatuation coming from his long time friend, Steve took it upon himself to give Bucky a heads up about you and your siblings. One of those 'company' secrets that everyone knows but pretends it doesn't exist. Steve came off as embarrassed when he told Bucky. While he supported the Maximoff triplets, Steve still thought it was abnormal.

"Your life in HYDRA must not have been easy. For you or your siblings." He's coaxing you back into his arms, the cold metal of his arm helps reduce the burning of your body. Tentatively you release the weight of your head to lay against the muscle of his chest. He felt like home already. You want to bury yourself in him.

"So. . . What now?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That depends on you, doll."

By the grace of some feminine instinct, Wanda seemed to know the moment you stepped into your room.

You attempt to reassure her that everything was fine before her scarlet magic starts to flare in her eyes.

Desperately you grip onto her hands, refusing to let go as you felt the slight sting of her power against your palm. "I love you. I love Pietro. I always will and I will NEVER leave you. But I also want to give Bucky a shot. He knows about. . . us. He knew even before I told him."

"He's taking you away from us." Her face was starting to redden with the effort it took her to keep her tears at bay.

A meltdown was imminent.

Quick in pleading for Wanda to just listen to you, Wanda simmers down.

Nothing was to be finalized until Pietro was brought in. At the end of the day you were family first and foremost. Pietro didn't take the news any better than Wanda had. You couldn't get a word in above him yelling curses in Sokovian.

Being the protective brother that he was, Pietro insists on having a talk with Bucky. He promised there would be no fighting. That did nothing to calm you as you sat with Wanda and continued to talk to her more about the Winter Soldier.

Bucky was expecting him. He'd felt the tremors of Wanda's magic; a warning. Any other man may think you weren't worth it and give up pursuit. Not Bucky. When the two of you kissed for the first time, Bucky's fate was sealed. He had to keep you in his life. You'd become the shield of his heart, a tender caretaker who'd keep his heart safe and sound from the world outside.

Pietro squares up to him, nearly standing the same height as Bucky. Conceding that Bucky possessed that extra few inches that, Pietro hardens his demeanor. On the silver haired hero's face was almost a disgusted curl of his lip when he looks Bucky up and down. This was the man that was pulling his sister away from the intimate fold of the triplets. An unwelcome interloper.

"It doesn't bother you that she's had relations with both Wanda and I?" Pietro intently watching any sign of discomfort from Bucky but found none.

"If you're trying to scare me off, it's not gonna work." Bucky folds his arms in front of his barrel-like chest. Hating to admit this even to himself, Pietro deflates a bit at the sight of the Winter Soldier's muscles. In a contest of strength it was clear who the winner would be. "Your sister has been the only one in decades to be able to take me down when I get into Winter Soldier mode. If being with her means accepting all of this. . . it's a price I don't mind paying. She's made it clear how important you and Wanda are to her. I don't think she's ready to let either of you go. Not over me."

There's almost a twitch of a smile from Pietro. His steam has evaporated. "We have some negotiating to do then."

You were more than surprised when Pietro and Bucky walk into your room. Wanda shoots confused glances at her brother; bristling when Pietro has Bucky sit next to you on the loveseat.

Your brother ignores Wanda's rueful glares and looks you in the eyes. He spoke in Sokovian. "Are you sure you want to be with him?"

"I want to give him a chance. He's. . ." Helplessly you take a quick peek at Bucky who offers you a warm smile that has fireworks blasting off in your time. Hastily you return back to your brother. "I really like him."

On your other side, Wanda melts when she hears the tender tone of your voice. If she put up anymore of a fight, she may actually lose you forever.

And maybe because you were the baby of the triplets, Wanda felt it impossible to at least try and give this interloper a chance if only for your sake.

She sighs wearily; your happiness was everything to her and Pietro. If you were straying from their protective walls, then that meant you were ready to brave the world by yourself. To try things that might be terrifying for the lot of you. It also meant that HYDRA no longer plagued your memories.

Her palm curls softly against your cheek and you hold it there, closing your eyes. "Alright, imp. If you think this man is worthy of you."

"He is." You beam at Bucky who matches your expression before looking back at Wanda. You bring her close to you so that your foreheads press together. "You'll never lose me. You are my blood. No one can change that."

[fragileheartbeats]

꒰͡⠀⠀ׂ St⚝rry 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑑 aᥒ͠gꫀl ⠀⠀͡꒱  ׂ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ָ֢ ⠀ ָ֢ ⠀ ָ֢ ⠀ ָ֢ ⠀ ָ֢

✿ུ. ﹙𝐟𝐞𝐦. ﹚ 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒂 ' 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏 - 𝟏𝟖

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ [ 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 ☆ ⠀]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ────────────────

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ────────────────

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ◌ ࣪ ּ⠀𝓜𝔂 ⠀𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲⠀𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 ! 𔘓

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀︶︶︶⠀⠀୨୧⠀⠀︶︶︶

𖤐 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𖤐 𝙈𝙔 𝙍𝙐𝙇𝙀𝙎

𖤐 𝙁𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙊𝙈𝙎

@ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙᴇᴀᴛꜱ 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬.

[m0nsterqzzz]

(wife) Natasha Romanoff x reader

word count: 1.8 k

- Snow Day -

summary - snow days with your wife and kids

a/n - ahhhhhh i love snow and natasha.

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The moment Natasha jumps on top of you at 7am is the moment you decide to divorce her. 

Not seriously, but you did threaten to as she shook your body and practically screamed, “It’s snowing detka!” You opened one eye and sure enough, there was ice frost covering the outside of your bedroom windows and you could see snow covering the trees. 

“That’s nice honey. Now go back to bed.” She shakes her head, jumping off the bed and yelling as loud as she can- which is pretty fucking loud if you didn’t know-, “Kids! It’s snowing!”

Just like Natasha, your kids love the snow more than anything. Probably more than they love you. It's a few seconds before the cheering begins, and then your oldest sons come running into your room and jump onto the bed. “Wake up! Wake up!” Lev, the oldest, practically screams in your face, and then Andy- short for Anthony-, the middle child, lays his whole body weight on top of you. He’s fourteen years old, only two years younger than his older brother and eight years older than their little sister, but after years of working out with Natasha, he’s very strong and putting his whole body weight on top of you means basically cutting off your ability to breathe.

The sound of little footsteps entering the room makes you all stop, and Lena, your six year old daughter and youngest child, enters the room with her stuffed monkey in hand and crawls into the bed next to you. She loves the snow, but she also loves sleep just like you.

“Come here принцесса.” Lev mutters, grabbing his little sister from the bed and holding her in his arms. Her big brothers are her protectors, and if you and Natasha aren’t there to treat her like a princess, her brothers are.

“You wanna build a snowman little spider?” Andy asks, tickling her stomach as a method of waking her up. She giggles, a tired grin taking over her face as she looks out the window. “Snow day?” “Snow day Lena.” She nods, suddenly much more awake as she climbs out of his arms and back onto the bed. You think she's coming back to cuddle with you, but you should know by the devilish grin on her face- one very similar to your wifes- that is not true. She stands up on the bed, then lets her small body free fall onto yours. Was naming her after your sister in law (the one that totally did this shit to you a few months ago) a good idea? Probably not.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

And that's how you ended up gathering up all the scarfs in the house, which only turned out to be 4. Luckily, one of them was really long so you and Natasha can share it once you get outside. While the kids are in their rooms putting on thousands of layers, Natasha is in a tank top and leggings like she's about to go out on a run in the summertime. “Natalia. Where is your sweater? Sorry I meant, where are your sweaters? Plural because it’s fudging freezing outside.” 

She shrugs, continuing to make six cups of hot chocolate despite it being 7 in the morning. You chuckle. “The kids only need one cup each Nat.” She nods, looking down at the cups with a nervous smile. “I know…..three of these are for me.”

You grab a few sweaters for her, forcing her to put them on and then standing in front of her holding in a laugh at the now balloon shaped form of your wife. “You look um….you look amazing honey.” She can't see you considering the beanie going down to her nose and scarf up to about the same place but she can hear you searching through your pockets for your phone. “I know what you’re doing! Do I look stupid to you detka?”

“Yes….and this is going on the Avengers Christmas card.” You snap the photo, running away from her when she begins waddling towards you. 

You go stand out on the porch with her, waiting for your kids to come out and join you in the cold. Why they love the freezing temperatures will always be a mystery to you. When they come out, each kid is handed one cup of hot chocolate that they pull down their scarves to chug. They boy’s aren't too big as they’ve grown a lot over the years since you bought the pieces of fabric, but the new one you bought for Lena when winter season started is practically covering her whole head and Natasha has to pull it down in order to see the little girl's bright smile.

You take your seat at one of the rocking chairs you and your wife bought for your wrap around porch, piling several blankets over your lap and watching with a smile as the kids- that's including Natasha- run out into the chilly forest. When Lev was two years old and you had first adopted the few month old baby Andy, Natasha retired from her job as an Avenger and bought you and your kids a large piece of property and a big house. The land is filled with trees that kids spend evenings placing hide and seek in, and in the summer they go horseback riding with their mom. Natasha takes care of all the animals that live around the property and in the barn, and you spend days doing whatever you wish whether it's helping her or staying inside the house relaxing with the kids.

A snowball flies past your head, and you look up to glare at your wife. “Hey! Why are you looking at me? Look at them!” The redhead points to the kids, who stare at her bewilderment. “You know what? Fuck this.” You mutter, removing the blankets from your lap and running out into the snow. You form a snowball, hiding with your kids behind a stack of hay that Natasha left out the other day. Your wife was an Avenger, a spy, and a shield agent. That's all true. But you live with her. It’s not too hard to pick up on her habits. 

You can hear her crunchy footprints coming up behind the hay, but the kids have already formed even more snowballs so you hold up three fingers, slowly putting each on down until you have zero left. They all jump up, practically yelling war cries as they hit their mother with snowball after snowball. You take this chance to run into the forest nearby, hiding behind a tree with several snowballs in hand.

Once they run out of snowballs and the laughter dies down a bit, you sneak out from behind the tree and begin throwing the snow at the back of your wife. The children laugh, but she turns to you with a devil-like grin and you instantly know you’re in deep shit. “Okay Nat….Nat….our kids are watching. They can't see me go like this.” You dramatically tell her, only bringing more giggles out of your kids. 

“Get her mom!” Lev cheers, and your eyes widen as you look at him in mock offense. 

“Whose side are you on kid?” You ask. He shrugs, holding up another snowball and throwing it at Natasha's head.

“Neither. Every man for themselves!” He sprints into the forest, Andy close behind him and Lena standing out in the open with no snowballs in hand. 

Natasha grins at her, opening her arms for a hug. “Come here and give me a hug, little spider.” The six year old narrows her eyes at the Russian woman before sprinting after her brothers, but Natasha is already forming four snowballs when the little girl gets to the edge of the tree line.

You watch with a grimace as your wife throws each snowball at the back of the little girl, and the force of the snow makes Lena fall face first into a pile of coldness. You smack Natasha’s arm. “Natalia! She’s six years old!”

The redhead just laughs, turning her back to the forest as she grins at you. “She's my daughter. She can handle a couple snowballs to the face.” While she was defending letting her child get hypothermia, Lev and Andy were sneaking up behind her, each with a large pile of snow in their arms.

“Um….Nat-” You start with a giggle, but it's too late and the boys are lifting up the piles to drop them on top of her head. It breaks over her head, falling down in front and behind her like snow and leaving it all over her head and shoulders. “That was for Lena!” Andy yells and then they take back off to the forest, Natasha not far behind.

A few hours later, you watch as Natasha and the kids come back out of the forest, and then plop down in the snow with erratic breathing. You get up from your seat on the porch, walking onto the cold field and then laying down in it right next to your wife.

It's silent for a few minutes, but then the sound of shuffling begins. You look to your side to see Natasha moving her arms and legs, forming an angel looking shape in the snow. You all spread out a little before copying her movements. So that's what you guys do for like three minutes, before standing up and admiring your guy’s work. There are five different sized angels in the snow, the perfect replicas of you and your family.

“Mama. I’m cold.” With a small smile, Nat grabs her by her under arms and hoists her up on her shoulders. 

“I think that calls for more hot cocoa.” “Tasha-” You go to tell her that they’ve already had too much sugar and that Lena is practically shaking due to a sugar high, but she’s making her way into the house with the boys trailing behind her before you can say anything. You chuckle to yourself, following after them.

She’s already grabbing the packets of cocoa powder once you get inside, and the boys settle themselves on the couch as you snatch them from her. She groans, sending you her best pout. You've been married to her for a very long time though and rarely fall for that anymore. “No. They can have something else.” The redhead widens her eyes, trying to put on a puppy dog's face that has you laughing harder than you ever had.

“Fine.” You’re not going to tell her that the only reason you said yes is because Lena was doing the face too. The little girls were much cuter. They cheer, beginning to heat up some milk to put in the hot drink as you go sit down on the couch with your boys. 

Natasha and Lena join you guys, the older of the two sitting behind you on the couch so you can lay your back on her chest, and the boys let their little sister choose a movie which is why you end up watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Your wife isn’t focused on the movie though. She’s admiring you, how you chuckle at the funny parts as your eyes sparkle with joy.

Snow days are her favorite thing, but it’ll never compare to you.

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

[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

[mrsbarnesblog]

firewood

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help.

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: +18❗️smut, hot neighbor bucky is a fucking warning, kinda size kink, rough sex, protected sex, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: this is one of my favorite works, so I hope everyone who hasn't read it before will like it too (it's hard to not fall for lumberjack Bucky, tbh🤷‍♀️)

“Hey, do you need help?” You stopped what you were doing. You breathed heavily, your arms ached, and you were already sweating. The man, your neighbor, whom you already saw a few times when you arrived home, was standing before you with his hands in his jeans pockets. 

He was attractive. Really handsome. Probably 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and visibly a lot of muscles under the clothes. Yeah, that red henley left nothing for your imagination. His dark hair was put in a low bun, and he had a little stubble on his face. But you mostly noticed his bright blue eyes, which looked straight at you very attentively.

“Sorry, what?” You said as you wiped sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“I asked if you needed help. Sorry, but it seems like you have some troubles.” He smiled at you almost shyly, and you couldn’t even make yourself mad at his words. 

“Um, It’s my first time doing it.” You awkwardly smiled back, finally putting a big ax to the ground. “But I need wood for my fireplace, so I have to work with what I have.”

“I see… but don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband? I mean, it’s not really easy to do for a woman, and you seem pretty... petite for this?” It almost sounded like a question. “I wanted to say that I can help you if you allow me, because that thing might be really dangerous if you don’t know how to work with it, and I'm a lumberjack, so... it’s not a problem for me.” He awkwardly started to rub his neck. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“For a woman?” You playfully arched an eyebrow. “So you think that only men can do this?” You saw how his eyes widened, and you tried to hold your laughter.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant!” He lifted both hands in the air. “It’s just gonna take you forever to do, and as I said before, It’s not the safest work. And since this is my job, I could’ve helped you. As a neighbor, you know?” 

“Relax, I’m just joking.” You softly smiled at him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Y/N.” You reached out your hand. Bucky’s face relaxed, but then his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“I like you.” He said, as he shook your hand. His grip was tight, and you felt that he really did a lot of physical work with his hands.

“Oh… thanks?” 

“Soo, do you need help?” He asked again.

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. I can’t just let you work for me for free. Can I pay you?”

“Doll, I have enough money, and I don’t need yours. I don’t think that you need tons of firewood, so it would be easy work for me.”

“Okay, but maybe I can give you food? Pastry? I really love to cook, and everyone said that I’m good at it.” You nervously played with your sleeve while Bucky was staring directly at you.

“Deal. I would honestly die for homemade food, ‘cause last time I ate it was at my ma’s and I really miss it. But you don’t have to do this, okay?”

“And you don’t have to help me.” You shot back.

Bucky’s smile grew wider, and he started shaking his head. “You have some temper, doll... Friday is okay?” 

“Yeah, totally, any time you’re free.” 

“Deal. I should probably go, and you better start training to cook food for me. I am really picky, and you insisted on paying me with it.” He said and started to walk back.

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed. “I know what I’m doing; don’t underestimate me!” 

“Fine. See ya, doll.” Bucky waved at you with the biggest smile on his face and finally walked away.

Well, it’s gonna be interesting. 

For the next almost two months, Bucky had been “working” for you, and you paid him with your food every single time because you couldn’t leave that man starving after he just got home from work and then willingly helped you. 

You two got closer. Bucky was a really good man; you found out it while you were sitting in your backyard looking at how his muscles were moving with every swing of the ax. He was right that it wasn't a big deal for him—the job that you would’ve been doing for several hours he did in twenty or thirty minutes. 

The conversation with Bucky was easy, he was a pretty reserved person, but he still told you everything about his job and his friends and asked you things about your life. It was hard not to fall for him. Especially when he gave you this boyish smile every time it was time to say goodbye or when you brought him your homemade food. 

Usually he comes to your house every Friday after work around 6 p.m., but today it was already 8 and he still didn’t show up. There was no light in his windows either, so you became really worried that something serious had happened. 

You were nervously sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen while your dinner was getting cold on the stove. You really had no appetite. What if he got injured from his dangerous work? Or maybe you were just overreacting and he went on a date with someone? You really had no reason to be worried that much because Bucky probably didn’t even think of you as a close friend, and you were just a too dramatic person with attachment issues. 

The light knock on the door scared you a little bit, but you still jumped out of your seat to open it. 

Bucky was standing there, visually perfectly fine and without any injuries, and you sighed with relief. 

“Bucky, oh my god, hi. Are you okay? I was really worried about you, and I don’t even have your phone number to text or call.” You mumbled as your eyes studied his face. 

“Hey, doll.” Bucky softly smiled at you, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really in the mood. “I’m fine. Just a shitty day at work. My boss went fucking crazy over nothing, and it was just a mess.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “But I have to do your firewood, so I'll go change and be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

He started to go back, but you caught him by his wrist. “No, Buck, wait. You don’t have to do it right now, really. I have enough wood, and you’re really exhausted. Come in; I have fresh lasagna and chocolate muffins.” 

“Um—are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.” He mumbled. You noticed that you were still holding his wrist, but decided to leave it that way. 

“Don’t worry, I have enough food, and you look like you really need it. C’mon, don’t you want to eat something homemade and still hot after a bad day at work?” You gave him your best smile, and it was obvious in his eyes that he already agreed to your idea. 

“Okay, we can do that. Honestly, I feel like I’m able to eat a fucking elephant.” 

You both shared a laugh before you almost dragged him into your house and closed the door. Only at that moment did you realize that even though you gave Bucky a lot of food, he had never been at your place before. For some reason, you felt really excited to feed him and spend some time together. 

“Sit here while I’m heating the food.” Bucky obediently took a seat, looking with a soft smile at how you were moving around in your little kitchen.

You looked so domestic and soft in the warm yellow lights of the room in the cute pink cotton dress with little flowers all over it. The concentration was written all over your face as you tried to perfectly set plates and cutlery on the table and then put steaming lasagna on it.

“Fuck, it smells so good; you’re going to kill me, doll.” He wasn’t able to handle the amazing smell of food right in front of him. 

Your cheeks heated, and you waved your hand at him. “It’s just lasagna, Buck; don’t be dramatic.” You took a place near him, and you both started to eat your food. 

“I’m not being dramatic. I already told you that, besides my ma, you have the best food in the world. I could’ve eaten it three times a day for the rest of my life and not gotten tired of it.” He took another big bite, moaning as the taste filled his mouth. 

“You’re making me blush. No one ever told me this.”

“That’s my intention, doll. What, none of your boyfriends complemented your skills? Because I would’ve put the ring on that finger way too fast.” You looked at each other for a few seconds until you noticed that he had already finished his portion. 

“Do you want more?” Ignoring his previous words, you stood up and took his plate to give him some extra food. The dress gently flew around your thighs, drawing Bucky’s attention to your legs when you turned around. “Anyway, what happened at work? You mentioned your boss.”

“Ugh, Pierce is a fucking dipshit. Everyone there hates him, but he has too much money, so we can’t do anything. Me and Steve have really been on bad terms with him since the first day. He tries to tell us how to do our work, but his head is so far up in his ass that he can’t even listen to what we say.” You returned to your place and put a plate in front of Bucky again. The frown took place on his face while he was talking about Pierce, so you put a hand on top of his without even thinking. 

“He sounds like a total asshole. I’m sorry that you guys have to work for him.” Bucky’s face softened at your action. He flipped his hand so he could interlace your fingers, and you felt the warm feeling all over your body. 

You both definitely felt something, but you still stayed silent, enjoying the connection. It was obvious that you had feelings for each other. It was just hard to admit out loud, and, honestly, Bucky was so scared that you might think that he did all of this just to get into your pants. Which is not true. Well, he doesn’t mind, but it’s not his only intention. He wants to treat you right and ask you out on a date. 

Back then, he felt so bold and offered to help you with the firewood with the hope of getting to know you better. Steve and Sam obviously knew about his new “work” and teased him about it all day long. Unfortunately, he still didn’t find the right moment to ask you out. Those times when he came to you on Friday evenings and you were watching him work in your cute dresses or little pajamas were Bucky’s favorites. You looked so soft, cozy, and domestic that he wished to see you like this every day. 

After the last piece of a chocolate muffin disappeared in Bucky’s mouth and he let out a moan of satisfaction, he sat in your kitchen with closed eyes and a smile on his face. 

“If I had to have a shitty day just to get this type of meal at the end of the day, I’m ready for it.”

“Bucky!” You laughed at his dramatic words. “You don’t have to have a bad day. I can feed you just because.” 

“Well, you said it yourself. Now you won’t get rid of me.” You both laughed. Then he suddenly got up and started to put plates in the sink. “You sit, and I’ll wash the dishes.”

“No, Bucky, that’s not how it works!” You got up and caught him by his bicep. Really hard and big bicep. 

“Yes, it is. You’re cooking, then I’m cleaning.” He tried to get away from your grip to turn on the water, but you only held him stronger, now with both of your hands on his arms. 

“Bucky.” When he was standing so close to you, you realized your size and height difference, and it made you shiver. You turned your head up to look him in the eyes. “You are my guest; you shouldn’t do this.”

“My mother taught me to always help women because they are not our maids.” He stepped a little bit closer. “But if you’re saying this only because you want me to leave, I can do that.”

You were both looking at each other, and what you saw in his eyes made you weak in the knees. 

“No, no, I don’t want you to leave.” Your hands moved higher and fell on the sides of his neck. It was everything Bucky needed to finally kiss you.

Two large and rough hands took your face to bring your lips closer to Bucky’s height. He was gentle yet so passionate, and he slowly moved his lips against yours. It was mind-blowing how desperately you wanted him to devour you, to destroy you. While your hands were discovering his broad chest and shoulders, you felt that your body was suddenly lifted in the air and then placed on the kitchen counter.

Now that Bucky didn’t have to lean over to your height, it was easier to kiss you properly. His tongue brushed over your lips to ask for entrance, which you happily gave. Bucky felt too addicted to your taste, your smell, and the feeling of your smaller body against him. It drove him crazy.

“I've wanted to do that since the day I looked at you.” The hands on your hips tightened and moved you closer to his body. “You look so pretty, God.” Bucky’s eyes are running all over your face, trying to memorize every little thing.

“Bucky...” You dragged him closer again, desperate to connect your lips. His large hands wandered all over your body, slightly pulling up your dress and then moving higher and cupping your breasts in them. “I thought you were tired.” His large erection was obvious through his jeans, and you wanted to tease him. 

“I’m never tired for you, doll.” He mumbled against your lips. “I could’ve fucked you right on this table, but I’ll leave it for the next time. Where’s your bedroom?” You didn’t miss the promise to fuck you again, and your body felt ecstatic just because of this thought.

“Up the stairs, second door from the right.” 

Bucky didn’t say a word before your world suddenly moved, and you ended up hanging from his shoulder. Your bare ass was probably right near his face, and you couldn’t help but blush. 

He stormed up the stairs with one hand on your thigh, as if your weight on his shoulder was nothing, and then walked into your main bedroom. 

You were thrown onto your bed, and Bucky stayed in front of you for a few seconds to remember this picture. Swollen lips, eyes full of need, a short dress that pulled up and showed a glimpsing of your white underwear. Yes, you were perfect, and only for him. 

“Come here, Buck.” You raised your hands in his direction, and he obediently climbed on top of you with a smirk on his face.

He sat between your legs, moving his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

“Such a pretty doll for me, in this cute lil’ dress, mm?” His body was hovering over you, and when he found a zipper on the back of your dress, you ended up lying under him only in your white lingerie set in less than a minute. 

The pair of the most beautiful blue eyes devoured your naked body as soon as the piece of clothing was removed, and you had never seen a man look at you this way. Like you were the most beautiful, delicious, and priceless thing in the world. Bucky’s hands gently touched your body from the shoulders to your legs, and you swear that you heard a moan while he was doing it.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled and leaned to gently kiss the soft skin of your belly, moving with little kisses higher until he reached your lips. “You’re killing me, you know that?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Barnes.” It was impossible to think straight when his pretty face was right in front of you and his muscular body pushed you deeper into the mattress of your bed. He kissed you as you asked, but it didn’t last long before he pulled away with a grin on his face. You gently brushed his brown locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears.

“So bossy, dollface... Do I have to fuck this attitude out of you?”

“Mmm, undress, and we’ll see what you are capable of.” You shot back at him, and he just moved away with a smirk on his face. 

In a few seconds, a red henley was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you were face to face with a body that was probably made by the Greek gods. Muscles on muscles, with tanned skin and freckles from the work under the sun. Now you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

“Like what you see?” His smirk became wider as he saw the look on your face: slightly parted lips and darkened eyes that were looking at him up and down. Bucky's hands went straight to the belt of his pants, and with the last movement, he was standing in your almost dark bedroom completely naked. 

You almost choked on your saliva when he pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. He was thick and long, with an angry red head. 

“No way this is gonna fit me…”

“It will, doll. I’ll take care of it. I bet this pretty little pussy will just suck me in.” 

It was over for you. You knew that. A handsome, respectful man with a perfect body and dirty mouth? Yes, he can do whatever he wants with you.

He returned to your bed, sitting in between your spread legs. He didn’t waste any more time when he reached behind your back and unbuttoned your bra. Bucky stood on his knees so perfectly that his dick landed on your covered pussy, and it made you both moan out loud. 

“Look at this, doll. ‘M gonna destroy her.” His hips slightly moved, and because your panties were soaking wet, it was so smooth and perfect. “Can you imagine that? I will stretch you out so well that I’ll ruin any other men for you. Make you–and her– mine.” He reached with one of his hands to your tits and squeezed your nipple between his fingers, while the other one was keeping your legs apart so he would be able to move his hips. 

You tried to close your legs by instinct. The tip of his cock again and again brushed right on your clit, and the slight pain from your nipple made you desperately moan and clench your bedsheets.

“Are you going to cum, pretty girl? Im not even inside of you, and you’re already a fucking mess.” Bucky’s rough voice was so sexy that it made you even wetter, if that was possible. He saw that you were close: by the way your breathing changed and how your eyes rolled back in your head. “C'mon, just let it go. Soak those panties even more.” His movements on your most sensitive parts of the body didn’t stop, and it threw you over the edge.

You were squeezing around nothing, and the most inappropriate and dirty moan escaped your mouth. It was something that you'd never experienced before, and it was so intense that you needed some time to get over it.

“Good girl.” Bucky grabbed your face and connected your lips, giving you another wet and sloppy kiss. 

Then, without hesitation, Bucky’s hands took off the last piece of your clothing, leaving you completely naked for his hungry eyes. He stared at your body up and down for a few seconds and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself down. 

“Bucky, please, I need you so much.” You almost cried, trying to grab him and put his body on top of yours, but Bucky was much larger than you, so it was almost impossible.

Bucky finally calmed down a little bit, and he interlaced his right hand with your left, pinning it above your head. His body softly landed on you, and skin-to-skin contact sent shivers down your spine. He was now looking you right in the eyes, and judging by his facial expressions, he either wanted to fuck you lifeless or cuddle and hold you closely.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Bucky’s soft side came out again, and you slightly nodded, giving him permission to continue. The little silver square appeared in his hand out of nowhere before he ripped the package with his teeth and put a condom on. 

You honestly tried to hold back the little bit of disappointment you felt when he decided to use protection. It was smart. You weren’t longtime partners, it was a question of your safety. But the tiny voice in your head told you that you would’ve let him fuck you without it. To feel his perfect d–

Your thoughts were cut off with a deep chuckle. “You look like you’re sad that I put on a condom, doll.” You swear that his eyes darkened when you stayed silent. “If you want it later, I’ll fuck you raw, ‘kay? But now neither of us can think straight.” 

“Are you a perfect man?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, let’s find out.” Your smile faded as soon as you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so when Bucky started teasing you again, rubbing you up and down to cover himself in your slick, you nearly lost it. 

“Bucky, please.” You whine, grabbing the side of his torso with your free hand. “Don’t tease me, please, I can’t—” 

Your words died as Bucky finally pushed inside of you. Your head fell deeper into your soft bed, and Bucky’s body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan. 

It was overwhelming. He stretched you out so deliciously that you felt pain and inexplicable pleasure. No one ever made you feel this way—like you were on cloud nine and the man on top of you didn’t even actually fuck you yet. 

“You’re squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenager—fuck!” He groaned, squeezing your hand harder. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You tried to relax as much as you could with a dick buried deep inside of you, and Bucky was finally able to move.

Well, if it felt good earlier, then the first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. Bucky cupped your face with his left hand, locking your eyes together, when he started thrusting at a slow pace. 

“So pretty for me, doll. You feel my cock in your stomach, huh?” Bucky’s lips almost touched yours when he talked, but it felt like he was too far away from you. “Good girl, take me so well. Knew that this pussy would be my death.” 

“More... harder, please, fuck me harder.” You spoke in between moans, gazing intently at Bucky's pretty face.

He started fucking you harder. Your bed was slamming your wall, but it didn’t bother you as much as the fact that he was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You were a fucking whining mess under him, with a slightly open mouth and a drunk-looking face.

“Suck it like a good girl you are.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, and you moaned, doing as he said. “Your pussy is already sucking the shit out of me. Are you going to cum, baby? Going to make a mess on my cock while I fuck you? Imagine if I fucked you raw and filled you up with my load. I bet you’d like that.” The finger went deeper into your mouth, making you gag. You nodded your head as much as you could at Bucky’s words because you were already ready to cum.

“Give it to me, baby.” Bucky growled, sucking on your neck. His hips slammed into yours, making the nastiest noise, but it turned you on even more. A finger slipped out of your mouth, and Bucky’s face was in front of you again. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“M-m, B-bucky! Don't stop, pl– ahhh!” The wave of the best orgasm of your fucking life washed over you. You swear the stars started dancing behind your closed eyes as you endlessly squeezed Bucky’s cock and his body.

The way you were moaning, how your eyes rolled back, and how your whole body trembled pushed Bucky over the edge. A few last movements in your soaking wet pussy and he came, feeling almost lifeless, as if you had sucked the whole energy out of him.

He let go of your hand, which this whole time he held above your head, and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing away the tears you didn’t even notice.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you okay?” He whispered and moved your head a little bit so your eyes were directed at him. You looked like you were high or really drunk, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that you were the prettiest woman on earth.

“I– it’s like I don't feel my body anymore.” You lazily mumbled and closed your eyes. “No one ever fucked me like this.” 

“Glad to hear that, doll.” Bucky leaned closer and kissed your soft lips with more delicacy and tenderness. “Do you need anything? Food, water, bath?”

“No… Can you just hug me and stay here for the night?” You asked, now afraid that he would leave since he got what he wanted.

“Sure, just let me get rid of this thing, and I’ll still get you some water.” He kissed you on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from yours. You hissed at the new empty and a little bit aching feeling inside of you. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

Bucky threw a condom in the basket under your table and, putting on only his boxers, came down to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water. But when he came back, he saw that you had already fallen asleep.

You looked so cute—still naked, with a peaceful expression on your face, laying in the middle of your messy bed. He thought about whether he should disturb your sleep or not, but you asked him to stay, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then came closer to you, placed the bottle on the nightstand, and carefully scooped you into his hands, pushing away the covers. He put you back down, and then you opened your eyes. 

“C’mere…” You mumbled, still sleepy, and grabbed his hand.

Bucky quietly chuckled and got under the cover, hugging you from the back. You happily sighed before drifting back to sleep. Bucky kissed you in the hair, hugged you harder, and fell to sleep with you in his arms.

You woke up a little bit disoriented, trying to figure out what happened last night. 

The bed beside you was empty, but the aching feeling between your legs proved that it wasn’t a dream. You, in fact, fucked your hot lumberjack neighbor. But where did he go?

You found some random oversized t-shirt and walked down the stairs. Everything was silent; your kitchen was empty but crystal clean. Did Bucky just leave? 

Wait a minute. 

Yesterday there was a mess from your cooking and dinner with Bucky.

Now the room was almost shining. 

You looked around in confusion until you noticed a piece of paper on the table. 

All of your bad thoughts disappeared as soon as you read it, and you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.

[angelltheninth]

The Flirting Skills of Spiderverse Characters

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader

Tags: fluff, crush, flirting, established relationship, kissing, confidence boost, secret identity

A/N: I asked myself if these characters have rizz and behold!

Peter does have pretty good flirting skills once you start dating. Until the he's a tiny bit awkward but not too much, he knows you already like him. His smiles are always a litte loopsided when he walks his fingers up your arm, to your cheek, watching goosebumps bloosom on your skin right before he kisses you.

Miles needs to look up pick up lines before he sees you. They don't help. Well they do but not in the way he thought. He mixes up his lines from how nervous he is but instead of messing up his chances with his crush, you end up liking him even more then you did before.

Gwen is a pretty good flirt once she becomes fond of you. In and out of the costume actually. In the costume more before you start to return her feelings but when she's sure you feel the same way she does hard on the flirting when she's outside of the costume and eases up while she's in the costume.

Miguel flirts like no other. Kissing your cheek, dipping down like you're in a dance, always pulling you to his chest while looking at you with the most smug grin on his face. How could he not with the reactions he pulls from you, all those yelps and dreamy sighs and mindmelting kisses you give him in return.

Hobie flirts without meaning to. He is naturally a very touchy, energetic guy so he makes your heart skip a beat without trying to. If he does try you're in real trouble. It was already hard enough to try not to kiss him while he was just a friend but now he's actually putting the moves on you. Worst of all he knows exactly what he's doing to you and he's not slowing down.

Pavitr is a smooth talker outside of the costume but not in it. When he sees you face to face his confidance goes up by a lot but when you're looking at him like you don't really know him, he falters. Always the one to put his arm around your shoulder and pull you into a kiss, smiling into it as you cup his jaw, silently asking for one more.