Warnings: stalking, obsession, possessive/delusional reader, mentions of violence/sex
A/N: Please consider this reader is obsessed with SB. Her behavior is concerning.
Dumbass stalker masterlist
DS - Prologue
It’s art.
Some might call it stalking. You call it mastering an art.
Since the day Vought announced that Soldier Boy is still alive, you are only living for him. Your world revolves around him.
Most of the fangirls scream and annoy their dream man. You mastered the art of following your man. He never sees you or gets annoyed with you.
While the others earn eye rolls and harsh words – you are allowed to admire Soldier Boy from afar. Of course, you are allowed to watch him. He’s your man after all.
Your man only needs a little more time to realize that you are the woman for him, not the bimbos he bangs to release some tension.
One day and that’s for sure, he will see you, and his eyes will shine, and his heart will beat only for you.
First things first. You sneak around the corner to get a better look at him. He smirks at some fangirls and makes a crude joke.
While the girls scrunch up their noses, you chuckle. They just don’t get his humor. But you do.
Being locked away for so long, trapped by his enemies changed your man. If only he’d be free of Vought so you can take care of him.
“Soon, my love,” you whisper, and take another picture. “You look so good today. If only we could be alone.” You sigh deeply. “What a pity this is another stupid fan event.”
Snapping a few more pictures you smile. Soldier Boy poses only for you. He flashes a smile for the camera, and throws his head back, laughing loudly.
“Soldier Boy here,” one of the girls calls for him. “Do you have a girlfriend?” She asks. You square your jaw at her question. “What do you like in a girl?”
The spell is broken when he turns away to walk back inside the tower. “Stupid bitches,” you grumble. “You had to ruin it for all of us.”
Another day, another chance. You found him easily among the commoners. Soldier Boy leans against a bar counter. His true identity is hidden by a baseball cap and sunglasses. He tries to pretend to be one of the normal people.
Only you know the truth. Soldier Boy is extraordinary. A perfect specimen. Your one and only.
“Another one,” he barks at the bartender. “Fill me up tonight. I only want to forget.”
Your heart clenches in your chest. He looks so tired, and sad. If only you could take him in your arms and make everything better.
It’s not the time. Not yet.
You need more time to prepare for his arrival at your home. Your home is almost perfect for the two of you. Soldier Boy will feel welcome and comfortable the moment he steps inside your home.
“Hey, I was first,” a man barks at Soldier Boy. “Get in line. I’m the next man she serves. After I had my fill, you can have sloppy seconds.”
You scrunch up your nose at the man’s implication. Most of the men you have met in your life are crude, rude, or perverts. Or, if you get really lucky – everything at once.
While you watch your man from afar, hiding in the shadows, a fight starts. Soldier Boy throws the man across the room. You step out of the shadows to snap a few pictures before you flee the crowded bar.
The end is already written. The hero will take the pretty bartender he saved from a creep home and fuck her brains out.
You’ll return home and dream about being in his arms like most nights. One day, he will take you home, you’re sure about it…
pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader
word count: 6.6k
warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie)
notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3
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<<< read part 1 here >>>
06.13 PM
Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.
The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”
“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.
“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”
“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”
Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.
“Smells yummy.”
“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.
No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.
“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”
“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.
“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”
“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”
“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”
“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.
“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.
“Why not?”
“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”
Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes.
“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”
“He should come home, then.”
It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.
The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.
So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”
When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.
“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”
Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.
Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.
He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.
And little does he know, so do you.
“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”
It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.
Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.
“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.
But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.
“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.
And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.
***
08:37 PM
If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.
But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.
“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”
“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”
“Uh… what do you got?”
“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”
His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”
“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly.
Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?
“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.
He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.
Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”
You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.
“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.
“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”
You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”
“‘The Bear Who Did.’”
“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”
The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.
“Me too.”
“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”
He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”
At home, the words echo in your head.
With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.
“So, uh… how have you been?”
“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”
“And do you? Live a little?”
“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.
Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”
“Seriously?”
“Mm-hm.”
You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”
He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”
“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.
“Oh come on…”
“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”
His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”
Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.
Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you.
This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.
“I’ve been on dates here and there…”
Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”
You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”
He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.
“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”
“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass. “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”
“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.
“Because I do miss you.”
Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”
“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”
Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”
He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”
“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.
“No. That’s not it.”
“Then what the fuck is it?”
Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.
After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”
It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”
“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”
“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”
Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”
“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”
The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.
“I shouldn’t have left.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. “Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”
Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”
You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”
“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”
You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”
“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.
The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.
“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic.
“What was that?”
“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.
The coast is clear.
You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.
“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”
“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.
“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.
Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.
“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it.
His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.
You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.
There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out.
“It’s in the—”
Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.
He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.
“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.
He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”
It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.
And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?
Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.
“Does it still hurt?”
You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.
His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—
“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”
The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.
Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.
Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.
You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…
You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.
“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.
Or worse, a mistake.
You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.
It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”
He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”
Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.
God.
You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.
Christmas Eve, two years ago.
Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.
And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.
So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.
But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost.
“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.
“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.
“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.
“You sure?”
No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.
So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to.
“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…
“Luca, I— now.”
He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”
“What, why?”
“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.
Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”
“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”
His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.
Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.
Down your torso.
Between your nether lips.
You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”
“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.
His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”
The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?
Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”
“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.
“Luca…”
“Wait, just let me—”
So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,
“Please.”
The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.
It’s just you and him and this need.
And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…
“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.
You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—
“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”
You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.
Love.
As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…
“Luca…” you gasp sharply.
He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”
You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay.
And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…
You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.
Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.
He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”
“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”
“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?
“I want you to.”
“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”
You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”
“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you.
Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.
There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.
“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.
Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.
***
9:56 PM
“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment.
“It was.”
“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”
“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.
“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?
Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”
You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.
The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”
“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.
“No, I just… I wanna know.”
“You don’t really wanna know.”
“Is it a lot?”
“I mean…”
“How many?”
You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”
He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”
“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”
“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”
“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”
“What?”
“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”
Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”
“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”
“What do you mean?”
You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”
“And you see me in them?”
“Every single one.”
“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.
And you tried very hard.
“I’m sorry.”
He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.
The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.
Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.
He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.
Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.
You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.
And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,
“Do you still love me?”
You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”
“Do you want us to try again?”
“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”
“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.
“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.
“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.
Slow and steady and certain.
The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”
“Then let me come home. Please?”
“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”
His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.
“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.
“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”
That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.
“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”
You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”
“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”
“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.
pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader
word count: 4.7k
warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀
notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think!
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03:49 PM
Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.
Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.
And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.
So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.
Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…
Fine enough.
But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”
You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”
Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”
“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.
There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.
“Hey.”
If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.
Still.
You can’t help that you miss him.
“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.
He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.
“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”
“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”
“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”
“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.
You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.
Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.
Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.
“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”
“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.
“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”
He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”
You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.
“How’s Alfie doing in school?”
“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.
“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”
You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.
“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”
“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.
He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”
“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.
A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.
You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.
The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.
Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.
The same vulnerable look.
“Hey, bub.”
“Hi.”
“Can I get a hug?”
There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.
“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”
“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.
“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin.
Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”
Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”
“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.
“Why?”
“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.
The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.
But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine.
And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.
“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”
“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.
“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.
Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”
“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.
“It’s your dad’s time—”
“No!”
“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight.
But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.
So much for quality time with his son.
Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”
“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“
“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”
It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.
“Alright, fine.”
“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”
You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”
Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.
“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”
Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”
Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.
“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”
“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”
He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either.
“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.
God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall.
Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”
“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”
Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father.
“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”
Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”
“What, are you trying to kick me out?”
“No, I just—”
Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”
He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”
You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…
Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together.
With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.
***
05:04 PM
By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.
“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”
Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.
Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.
“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”
The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”
“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.
Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”
“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”
His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”
“Why? You don’t miss home?”
There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.
He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma.
Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up.
Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”
“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.
“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”
Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”
The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”
“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head.
You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.
“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.
“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?
He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”
“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.
You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms.
“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.
“Can I watch Bluey now?”
You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”
Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”
“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”
Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.
Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Your meeting went okay?”
“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”
“Yeah…”
You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”
Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…
“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.
You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”
“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”
You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”
“Don’t forget your crayons!”
Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”
“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”
The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”
There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household.
“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.
You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”
“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”
Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”
“Er, kind of.”
“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.
Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”
“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”
“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?
“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.
He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”
“You never taught me how to do it, though.”
“Yes, I have.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”
You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”
He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”
For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.
And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?
“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”
You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.
“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”
You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating.
“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.
“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”
“What’s a burr, sir?”
Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“
Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…
In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…
“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”
Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.
“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?”
“That’s basically it, yeah.”
The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.
“Listen, I—”
“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.
It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.
***
if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!
A/N: I know its been.. an unspecified amount of time but I can explain! (I can't actually) Have this and an apology (It's gonna happen again) See you next time. Muchos besos!
Description: Unnamed Fem!Reader and Luca have history. One-sided but still history.
Warning: Smut, Fluff, Confession, Vaginal penetration (ooh spoicy), breeding (unintentionally), Vaginal fingering, Wirty dords and phrases, and this man Luca himself (he is a little too fine in this one, makes me feral)
“You guys are going to Copenhagen.” Sydney said as she looked at the both of them while leaning against the counter that was just put into the kitchen. There was chaos around them, walls being put up and others being knocked down. The Bear was set to open and it seemed like one thing right after the other decided to go wrong.
“What’s in Copenhagen?” She stepped forward, standing next to Marcus. Her braids pulled back out of her face as she put her hands in her jacket pocket.
“Uh… I don’t know. An old friend of Carmy.” Her heart raced as she thought of the only other person that he would consider a friend that also lived in a different country.
“Can I decline?” She asked quickly, both Sydney and Marcus looking at her.
“What?”
“Why?” Marcus and Sydney spoke in unison.
“I just… don’t think I should go.” She looked between them.
“Why? What do you have going on that you can’t go?”
“My cat…”
“I’ll take care of him.” Sydney said quickly, dispelling the only excuse she had.
“You don’t have a reason not to go.” Marcus said as he crossed his arms. It was true, there really wasn’t a reason not to go. Aside from being in the same kitchen as Luca. She looked at the both of them before letting out a heavy sigh.
“You can stay at my apartment to take care of him.”
“You’re going?” Sydney questioned excitedly.
“Yeah.”
Upon their arrival in Copenhagen, they took in as much of the city as they could. The both of them, making sure to take a bunch of pictures and stopping at different bakeries to look at their displays on the way to their new temporary home. It was a first for both of them when they got onto the boat, her room towards the front while Marcus got to sleep in the level above the kitchen area. “We’ve gotta leave water out.” He said from his spot in front of the table. Marcus silently reread the note in his hand as she approached him to look over at the paper.
“For who?”
“A cat or something.” He shrugged, the pair looking back at the empty water bowl on the floor.
“Okay.” She patted his shoulder. “You got it.” The pair laughed before separating to get settled for the night.
The next day they woke up before daybreak, both alarms blaring and making sure they actually got up. She found herself already distracted while getting ready for their first day. She wondered what he looked like now. Whether he looked any different. “Of course he probably does.” She grumbled to herself with a mouth full of toothpaste. She was broken from her thoughts when there was a rapid knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, we’re gonna be late if you take long.”
“My bad!” She finished up quickly then finished getting dressed.
The pair set off to the restaurant, walking in silence for a moment before Marcus spoke up. “Man..” He began. “I’m excited.” He looked ahead, his hands in the pockets of his parka. “Did you ever think that you’d be here?”
“Not really.” She responded, her hands in her pockets as well. “I thought I’d be in my own bakery by now to be fair.”
“Yeah?” He smiled. “Maybe once Carmy gets his shit together, you can get started.”
“If Carmy got his shit together.” The pair laughed.
The walk was filled with conversation and laughter but at the back of her mind, she was still wondering about Luca. The closer they got the more her heart pounded, her hands becoming a little clammy. She stopped walking when they came to the employee entrance of the Restaurant, her eyes on the door handle. Marcus stopped next to her, looking between her and the door. “Everything good?”
“Yeah.. um.. you head in first, I’m gonna call Sydney to check on Butters.” She mumbled out a lie as she pulled her phone out.
“You’re a bad liar.. but okay.” He nodded before entering first.
She needed to compose herself. It had been a long time and she had thoroughly convinced herself she was fine. That she was over it. “He might not be in today.. he might not even remember you and it’ll be fine.” She began to pace to help with calming her nerves but it didn’t work. Talking to herself didn’t work. “It’s been years. You’re not a child.” She sighed and looked at the door handle again, still unable to bring herself to enter.
“If you’re not goin’ in, mind if I get by?” She froze, looking back at him as if she had been caught stealing. “Oh..” His shocked expression told him that Carmy didn’t tell him about her arrival. And that he recognized her. “Are you here to learn?”
“Yeah.. I came with Marcus.” She cleared her throat. “Well not with Marcus but I traveled here with him.” She stepped away from the door so he could go in.
“It’s good to see you.” He pulled the door open for her, grinning at her. “Comin’ in?” She nodded before she stepped inside first, mumbling a thank you before heading straight to the back to get changed.
Once she finished, she went to join them, standing in the background and keeping her head down as she listened to Luca’s instructions. He had her working on whipping cream. A feat that she had tried to concur years ago but gave up on. She had deemed her arch-nemesis. Luca placed a chilled bowl, a carton of heavy whipping cream, sugar, and a whisk at her station. He stood beside her as he began to explain what she needed to do as if she didn’t already know. She mumbled a ‘Yes Chef’ to him before she began.
She began slowly, her eyes on the liquid in the bowl she had begun to whisk together. She remembered the first time she worked with Luca. His attitude towards his craft and others was a stark difference in comparison to each other. He had been arrogant and cocky when they worked together but no matter how rude he’d gotten, she continued to be nice. She wasn’t sure when the feelings for him started.
“Hey. What are you doing?” Luca questioned as he looked at her while she stood at his station.
“Chopping.” She responded in her usual happy tone. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Do I look like I need your help?” He stepped forward, his face turning red with annoyance and frustration. “Put the knife down and go away.”
“You don’t have to be mean about it.” She furrowed her brows.
“Whateva’.” He rolled his eyes. “Just find something else to do.”
“Fine.” She scoffed. She began to work on her own tasks, humming softly. She winced in pain and dropped her knife on the floor, tears welling up in her eyes at the sting from her finger. “Shit..” She walked towards the back, Luca watching her carefully before he went to follow her.
“Nearly chopped your finger off?”
“Yeah.” She answered honestly. “I got distracted…” She bit the back of her other hand as she ran water over it. “It’s so stupid.”
“Here.” He reached for her injured hand and looked at the cut. “No stitches. Which is good. Let me grab the first aid kit.” He walked away, leaving her to her thoughts. Once he came back, he had the red box in his hand and began to clean her cut properly before gently placing a bandage and a cover over it. “Be careful next time. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She looked at him and smiled, Luca staring at her for a moment before letting her hand go and returning to what he was previously doing.
In the time following that, she found herself trying to talk to him more. She would continue to smile at him and greet him, secretly doing prep for him after she finished her so that he would have somewhat of an easy day. At first, Luca wasn’t receptive to her enthusiasm but slowly warmed up to her. Her random questions or statements added to her charm. The way she would continuously hum throughout the day or scurry off the few times he caught her doing his prep. She grew on him and when he had to leave, it was like he was losing the best friend he cherished with his entire being.
“You overdid it.” Luca pointed out as he looked over her shoulder and yanked her from her thoughts. “Try again.”
Her apron was stained and the cream had become lumpy. She stared at it, her hands on her hips as her frustrations grew. “Can I just fix this batch?” She looked at him. “Or turn it into butter?”
“You could... but this is the third time you’ve tried to fix it.” His voice was stern but she knew he wasn’t upset. She hadn’t even realized what she was doing, her thoughts seemingly consuming her. “You’re out of heavy cream and you’ve made way more than we need.”
“What?” She looked down at the bowl. “Shit.”
“Do you know where you went wrong?” He questioned, seemingly knowing what was going on with her.
“I got distracted..” She sighed.
“Start over.” He made a move to walk away but her words made him pause.
“Can I move on to something else?” She asked before he could fully walk off. “You know my hatred for whipped cream.”
“No.” He crossed his tattooed arms, his biceps more defined as he did. “There’s more cream in the walk in.” He turned and walked away from her, leaving her to her own thoughts. She let her head hang before going towards the walk in.
She walked into the walk-in freezer, chewing on her bottom lip as she looked for all the items she needed. The door opened and Luca walked in, easily grabbing everything he needed and pausing when he realized how confused she looked. “What do you need?”
“Cream.” She looked around again before whipping around to face him and nearly colliding with his chest. She swallowed hard before pursing her lips and looking up at him as he reached to grab the cream from the top shelf. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He responded. “Cleaning the walk-in always seems to confuse someone around here. It’s about time it was you.” He smirked before walking out. She shivered, the chill combating against her heating body.
“Get it together…” She exhaled and walked out.
The day had gone by a little too quickly and she was still standing at her station trying to get the whipped cream right. “Hey, do you want me to wait for you?” Marcus asked, his bag on his back as he walked towards her.
“No. It’s fine. I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get this.” She smiled gently. “You go ahead and get some rest.”
“Alright. If you’re sure.” He held his fist up, the duo fist bumping to confirm that it was fine for him to head out on his own.
She focused on whipping the cream, her eyes down and her head seemingly trying her hardest to empty as her hands moved more delicately once it was at the consistency she wanted. She stepped back and sighed, putting her hands on her hips and taking in the mess she now needed to clean up. “Lucky for you, we had back up to go through.” Luca said, seemingly just appearing behind her again. She jumped, quickly turning to face him.
“Sorry.” She looked down.
“No one’s gonna take your head off.” He walked towards her, looking over the mess. “You’ve got it and that’s all that counts.” He crossed his arms, an action that began to find enticing to look at. The muscles of his biceps and forearms were more prominent, his tattoos grabbing her attention as well as the veins that seemed to pop out. Her eyes followed them before she forced herself to look into his eyes. She swallowed the lump that had decided to settle in her throat as she wondered if he caught her staring so openly. “How’ve things been?” It was an out of the blue question. But he was genuinely curious. He hadn’t seen nor spoke to her in years, same with Carmy.
She turned back around, beginning to clean up. “Oh.. you know.. it’s the usual with Carmy. He’s being a bit ambitious as always.”
“I don’t mean with Carmy.” He spoke low, almost upset that that was what she assumed he meant. She turned around with some of the now empty dirty bowls. “I meant with you.” He clarified as they stared at each other in silence before she spoke again.
“Uh.. well nothing really changed since last we saw each other.” She responded. “I’ve got a cat now. He’s pretty sweet and super cuddly.”
“Hm.” He nodded, leaning against the counter across from her. “So.. no bakery then?” She smiled and shook her head, putting the bowl down.
“The bakery wasn’t in my plans for a long time now.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t really think it was worth it anymore.”
“It would have been.” He reassured her. “Your whipped cream would have been for shit either way but you can work around that.” They both laughed in unison, standing in a comfortable silence afterwards. “But I’m sure with you running it, Sweets Bakery would have been the talk of the year.”
“I can’t believe you remember the name.”
“How could I forget?” He questioned her.
“It’s such a stupid name.” She mumbled.
“I would say that. I think the name made sense.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.. from what I remember, you were always sweet.” Luca rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at her.
“What?” She looked at him in confusion, her brows furrowing. His chuckle sounded like a low rumble as he shook his head.
“You were always sweet.” He repeated in the same octave. “Making sure everything was at my station, double cleaning duty, taking the blame for everything even if you didn’t do it.” He let out a sigh. “I thought you were stupid for it but honestly I grew fond of it. It was cute seein’ your face light up when I finished somethin’ even though you’ve seen it a million times.” He crossed his arms as he looked at her, his head leaning to side slightly as if reliving a memory he had. “I’m sorry I left like that. I know things were a lot easier because of the flow. But when I got the offer, I had to take it.”
“I wasn’t upset because of the offer you got.” She sighed, her eyes down. “And you don’t have to apologize for that. You don’t owe me anything.” She finally looked at him, smiling gently but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It was stupid. I- you..” She found it difficult forming a sentence. “God it’s so stupid.” She stood up straight as she shook her head. The feelings she had before hadn’t died fully it seems. Seeing him again had started a metaphorical fire that made her feel like she was stepping back into the pass. “I.. enjoyed working with you.” She began, taking him by surprise. “But it was difficult and I couldn’t focus because of you. Most of my major fuck ups was because I was too busy thinking about you. I couldn’t think around you and all I could smell was your stupid cologne and see your hands?” She sighed, wanting to scream in frustration. His eyes stared at her with an undetermined intent. She felt as if she were going to lose her mind the longer she was around him. Those feelings she had fought so hard to forget building more and more the longer she was alone with him. “I hate you.” She sighed. “No. That’s a lie. I’m crazy about you. It’s frustrating. It’s…” She watched as he stood, closing the short distance between them. “Reject me.” She stepped back, bumping into the metal table she had yet to clean. “Reject me so I can take my heart ache and leave.”
Luca’s calloused hand moved to cup the side of her head, its warmth radiating against the area behind her ear. “Reject me Luca.” She took in a breath and she held up, looking up at him through her lashes. “Please Luca…”
“I can’t reject you.” He mumbled as he leaned in, swallowing thickly. “I’d be a fuckin’ idiot if I did.” As if a net keeping all of her ability to resist was cut open, she melted against him. One of her hands rested against his toned bicep as the other held the wrist of the hand that was holding her head. He pulled her flush against him, making her head swim. Their kiss grew heavier, their lips dancing against one another but he ultimately had taken the lead.
She looked down as she tried to catch her breath, Luca’s breath fanning forehead as his thumb gently rubbed against the skin behind her ear. She finally looked up at him, hoping that he couldn’t hear the way her heart thundered against her ribs. “I’ve dreamt of doing that for a while.” She mumbled, a smile forming on both of their lips.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He huffed, leaning in to feel her plump lips against his again. “So soft..” He kissed her again. “So sweet.” His large hand moved towards her lower back, causing her to shiver against his touch. She pressed her face into his chest as she involuntarily arched against him. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“No.” She responds, looking at him. “Don’t stop.”
“Fuck..” He sighed. “And you say I’m the frustrating one?”
“Luca?”
“Hm?”
“Can we go.. back to your place? I have to share a boat with Marcus and it would be really awkward if you walked in with me.”
“Are you sure?” He asked, his breaths growing heavier. “Because if you come back to my place, I won’t wanna leave in the mornin’.” She nodded a little too quickly, a smile forming on his lips. “Alright.”
Luca’s apartment wasn’t too far from the Restaurant. It was larger than she expected, the decor minimalistic and neutral. Though the sun had already set, the view outside had still been beautiful. He tossed his keys on the island as they passed the kitchen, his eyes still on her as she admired his home. She looked back at him, noticing the darkening look in his eyes as he slowly stalked towards her. She turned to face him fully as she stepped back with a smirk forming on his lips. “Are you still sure about this?” He asked as he pulled his hoodie off.
“Yes.” She said softly as she returned his smile.
“One more step and you’ll be in the bedroom.” He pointed out as he stopped walking.
“Oh..” She looked back before meeting his gaze again. “I knew that.” She kept her smile as she took another step back, fully entering the bedroom. Luca felt himself slowly losing his will power as he stared at her. “What’s that look for?” She asked almost innocently.
As if a switch was flipped, Luca pulled his hoodie off with his shirt following suit. His shoes had already been off and at the door with hers. He easily scooped her up and walked her over to the bed. “Maybe you’re not all that sweet.” He grumbled as he looked up at her. He placed her on his bed and sat back on his feet to admire the woman on his bed. “Definitely not all sweet.” He moved to hover over her with a small smile forming on his face.
“What?” She asks curiously.
“You’re breathtakin’.” He leaned forward, kissing her softly. He moved his hands to hold her face, the gentleness slowly intensifying.
When he wasn’t kissing her, he watched her every move. The way her hands slowly removed her shirt and revealed more of her skin to him. She looked embarrassed. Adorable. He thought to himself as he moved in to leave open mouthed kisses on the exposed parts of her body. They were hot but the chill of the air that followed left goosebumps all over.
Her hands found their way into his golden strands when his intense kisses led to where she had created the most heat. She still had her underwear on but the dampened material didn’t leave much to the imagination. “Luca..” She breathed. It came out as a small whine as if pleading for him to do more.
“Yes, sweetness?” He questioned as his breath gently cooled her underwear with each word.
“Don’t.. tease.” She pushed her hips upwards, watching as his eyes darkened. “Please..”
“Say it.” He demanded softly. “What do you want?”
“You. I want you.” She pouted.
“You want me?” He asked as he pressed more open mouth kisses against her heat. “What do you want me to do to you?” His eyes were locked with hers, relishing in her reaction.
“Take them off..” She furrowed her brows in anticipation as his hands moved towards the band of her underwear, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the barrier keeping him from touching her fully as he continued giving her needy cunt sloppy kisses. His tongue licked a strip against her with enough pressure that it sent a jolt through her entire being.
“I don’t think I want to take them off just yet.” He grumbled. One of his hands moved to rest on her pubis and his thumb rubbing lazy circles around her clit while the fingers on his other hand continued to tease her waistband. “Wanna savor the moment.” He mumbled before leaning in to kiss and lick her against her.
Her frustrated moans and whimpers filled the room as he continued to tease and pleasure her through her underwear. Her hand gripped and tugged at his hair, her mind emptying with every minute that passed and her need for physical contact growing at a steady rapid pace.
He enjoyed watching her squirm and writhe though he hadn’t touched her directly. Her underwear, now soaked in her essence and his saliva had become a hindrance to his enjoyment. And when he began to pull the ruined material down, she was all too eager to lift her hips. “Eager bunny.” He chuckled, before returning between her legs. He didn’t waste time tasting her, finally coming to the end of his torture. He let out a low growl as he lapped up her juices greedily. His eyes had been closed, giving her the chance to try and ground herself but when she lifted her head to watch him those captivating eyes had ensnared her again. He moved his hand up her body, slow and with purpose. Her breathing grew heavier as she couldn’t help but watch as his tattooed arms and hands moved. His hands carefully squeezing and kneading her breasts as if she were the mound of dough he had been touching earlier in the day. He pulled her bra down and toyed with them, pinching and tugging on her nipples before rolling them between his fingers. Luca groaned as he enjoyed the way she grew wetter. He had thought about what she would be like in bed. About whether she tasted as good as she looked and he was happy he got the chance. He came to the conclusion that if she’d allowed it, he’d eat her out from sunrise to sunset. But in this very moment, he needed to feel her around his cock more than ever.
Luca pushed himself up, licking his lips as he looked down at the mess he had created between her legs. He pressed the pad of his fingers against her dripping slit, he gathered saliva in his mouth before spitting it out on his index and middle digits. It wasn’t as if she needed it, but fuck was it a sight when he did it. He pressed his fingers deeper and smirked as her walls fluttered around him before fully clenching. “You like the way that feels?”
“Y-yes..” She stopped herself from grabbing his wrist, from touching him in any way even though he hadn’t told her she wasn’t allowed to. He watched the way her thighs shook as she brought her legs up to try and close. “L-Luca.. ah..” He moved closer, gently pushing one of her legs so she could open up for him. She had already been lost in pleasure before and now she found herself slipping back into it. She opened her legs wider as she felt her orgasm slowly building, wanting to chase that high. “I’m gonna..”
“Go ahead, sweetness.” He moved his free hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as he helped her along.
“I-I’m about to..” Her body tensed as the coil tightened in the pit of her stomach. She looked at him as if she were pleading for him to allow her to climax even though he already gave her the go ahead.
“Atta girl.” He leaned towards her, kissing her and swallowing her moans as she gushed around his thick digits. “Cum for me.” Luca hummed as she tightened and fluttered. He positioned himself between her legs, wiping the cum on his fingers against the tip of his cock. “Can I?” He asked, the head of his thick cock resting against her entrance. She leaned up on her elbows the best she could, nodding. “Say it for me.” He held the back of her head as he looked into her eyes again. He could get lost in them so easily, would do anything she requested if she looked him in the eyes. He moved closer.
“Please put it in.” She said softly. “I want to feel you inside.” She gasped when he pushed into her, the initial stretch incomparable to his fingers.
He was gentle with her, working his way inside before he bottomed out. He pulled himself out and silently shook his head before pushing back in. “Fuck~” Luca bit his bottom lip as he pushed deeper before pulling out again. “Why do you feel this good?” His question was rhetorical but she still shrugged in response and earned a chuckle. “And you’re cute.” Luca set a steady deep pace as he tried to keep himself from getting lost in her. His head spun as his need grew, making it a difficult feat. She moaned beneath him, her hands gripping the duvet. He grabbed the backs of her knees and closed her legs, sighing at the change in feeling. He placed her ankles on his shoulder, kissing the side of her calf as his pace changed. He bit his bottom lip as he watched the way her tits bounced with each of his thrusts. He cupped her cheek then pressed his thumb against her soft lips. She sucked on it, gently biting it as she stared up at him. Fuck.. He felt as if he could cum if he continued to stare at the beautiful woman beneath him. Her walls fluttered around him when he changed his angle. “Luca..” She drew out a needy whine. “There..” She gasped when he hit the same spot again. “R-Right there.”
“There?” He questioned with a smirk. “What’ll happen right there baby?” He asked, quickening his pace.
“L-Luca I’m…” Her orgasm rippled through her when he rubbed her clit again, tight circles with pressure that drove her crazy. She arched and writhed beneath him as the extra stimulation made it too much for her. She grabbed his wrist as she tried to push him away, whimpering weakly.
“Not yet.” He grabbed her wrist and pinned it against her underbelly as he continued to fuck her. She continued to try and push his hand away as tears began to well up in her eyes. “Just a little longer.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers as he kept his pace. “Where can I-” She wrapped herself around him without thinking, biting his shoulder when he let out a low bellow that vibrated from his chest to hers. His hips snapping forward as his hot cum shot inside her. Luca plops down on top of her, his face against her chest as they both catch their breaths.
They laid there in silence, Luca’s eyes closed as she stared up at the ceiling in silence. His thumb gently rubbed against her waistline. He slowly pushed up to get off of her but she wrapped her arms around him to stop him. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, looking at her with slight worry in his eyes.
“I don’t want to let go yet.” She mumbled, her eyes still on the ceiling. She mentally cursed herself for how clingy she became. But she worried that if she did let him go, she’d be back at square one.
“How about..” He moved to sit up, able to get out of her hold. “We shower and then get some sleep?” He easily moved off the bed, holding his hand out for her to take. They smiled at each other when she took it. He easily picked her up and walked into the bathroom.
She walked into the restaurant first, thanking Luca as he held the door open for her. She went straight to the back to get changed before heading to her station. “Hey, good morning Chef.” Marcus said as he moved a bag of flour to a different table.
“Good morning Chef.” She cleared her throat, tying her apron around her waist.
“Hey.. I don’t wanna be weird or anything but you didn’t come back to the boat last night.” He spoke low, leaning forward a little.
“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling to herself as she tried to keep her eyes on the task in front of her rather than giving in to the urge to watch Luca.
“Are you okay?” He questioned, still curious.
“Yeah. Just needed to take care of some things.” She smiled at him, her eyes locking with Luca as he easily picked up a heavy bag of flour and placed it on the counter. He looked over at her, a small smirk forming on his lips before he focused on what he had been doing.
“Aah.. take care of some things. Okay.” He repeated, laughing to himself. She shoved him away as she tried to hide the embarrassment that tried to settle.
“I’m not about to play with you.” She laughed to herself before going back to prepping her station.
“Think you can handle the cream for today too, Chef?” Luca asked as he placed heavy whipping cream next to her along with a chilled metal bowl.
“Yes, Chef.” She nodded as she tried to keep herself composed when his hand gently brushed against hers.
“When you’re finished, help Marcus with the dough.”
“You got it, Chef.” She poured the cream into the chilled bowl and began to work.
“What are you doin’ tonight?” He asked softly, crossing his arms. She looked at him, unable to hide the excitement in her eyes.
“Probably catching up on sleep.” He grinned and crossed his arms.
“How do you feel about me making you dinner tonight?”
“Sure.” She tried to sound nonchalant but couldn’t help herself. “I’ll have to tell Marcus I’m not going to the boat tonight.”
“You’re staying on a boat?” He questioned, his eyebrow peaked in curiosity.
“Yeah.”
Luca watched as she turned her attention back to the whipping cream, his eyes lingering on the hickey peeking out from under her collar. Maybe instead of actual food, she’d allow him to have his fill off of her.
mean!Steve washes your mouth out with soap when you curse in front of him 😈
Is It Too Late Now To Say Sorry?
Characters: Mean!Steve x F!Reader.
Words: 327.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, deep throating, oral sex (male receiving), oxygen deprivation, 18+.
A/N: Sorry, did you say soap?! I thought you said cock… 👀 Thank for the ask! Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators.
You can barely breathe— the small thatch of curls at the root of Steve’s cock aiding in your slow asphyxiation as he shoves his length roughly back past your lips with deep guttural growl.
“Maybe next time you’ll think about what filth comes outta your mouth before you speak to me,” he grunts, retreating his hips before filling your mouth once more. “Say you’re sorry.”
Looking up at him through tear-dampened eyelashes, you shoot him a look as if to say, how can I?
He smirks down at you. “If it’s so easy for you to curse in front of me, then you can apologise with my cock shoved down your throat.”
You mumble your apology, the words barely discernible had you not known what you’re saying.
“Good girl, finally learning some manners,” Steve praises. You almost expect him to allow you a reprieve when he pulls back, but you’re naive to think he would let you off so soon.
You gag and splutter, hands splayed across his thick thighs as you try to breathe through the intrusion in your mouth. On instinct, you push back against his hands holding your head in place but Steve quickly turns, reaching down to pinch your nose closed.
Instantly you start to squirm at his feet, and the lack of oxygen causes your lungs to painfully constrict, desperate to hold onto whatever precious little air you have left.
“Count to ten with me. One, two…”
Silently you count with him, and for the ten seconds he’s essentially suffocating you feels like an hour.
“… nine, ten.” Steve lets go at the same time he pulls his cock from your mouth and you heave deeply, trying to regain your breath. Saliva and diluted pre-cum drips down your chin and onto your breasts as he tugs your head back to look up at him, his weeping cock bouncing against your lips.
“Fight me again, and I’ll do it for a minute next time.”
A/n: I’ve decided to make a come back with this one (appropriately named). I apologize in advance... maybe... not really.
Word Count: 1951
WARNING: Sadness, lonely Y/n, Post Thanos snap, kissing (if that’s a warning)
“It saddens me to have to report this.” The Reporter spoke solemnly. “Half of the human race has been wiped out and we don’t fully understand why.” Y/n sat on her sofa, a pillow on her lap as she stared at her television. She couldn’t help but feel a dull ache in her chest as she hoped that he was alright. She hadn’t seen Steve in almost a year, their last conversation via text. He had told her that he wasn’t going to be able to make it for dinner and never spoke to her again.
She moved to get up, feeling a little weak from her lack of nutrition and rest. Whenever she tried to sleep, she would jolt awake from a bad dream or toss and turn until she got up. She wasn’t sure of what to do anymore. Should I try calling again? Listen to his voicemail just so I can remember his voice? She looked around for her phone, deciding on hearing his voice before trying for a nap. As she slowly shuffled towards her bedroom to try and find the device, there was a light knock on her front door.
When she reached the door the person knocked again, nearly startling her. She opened it, not bothering to look through the peephole. Once the door was fully opened, she took in the towering figure that was in front of her. Steve Rogers was standing in a pair of washed denim jeans and a plain blue shirt. He had a baseball cap on his head, probably to try and prevent himself from being recognized. His hands in his pockets. “Hey.” He gave her a small smile.
“Steve.” She whispered as tears welled in her eyes.
“Hey now.” He moved into her apartment, wrapping his arms around her. “No. Don’t cry, Dollface.” Steve rubbed her back as she gripped his shirt and sobbed, her body shaking. She felt herself getting weaker, her full weight leaning on him as her legs gave out on her.
He scooped her up, taking her still trembling body into her bedroom and laying her down. She was fast asleep, his hand in hers. Once he could feel that she was deep in slumber, he stood. Her apartment was a mess compared to how tidy she usually kept it. He couldn’t help but wonder whether or not his absence was the cause of her condition.
Steve started cleaning her apartment, wanting to feel like he did at least one good thing with the recent events in his life.
Y/n opened her eyes, her hand absentmindedly reaching for the spot next to her. Right. He’s not back yet. Her stomach growled when her brain was able to register the delicious scent of food. She slowly sat up and climbed out of bed so that she didn’t lose her balance or felt dizzy. She remembered seeing someone that looked like Steve at her door, her heart breaking at the thought of it being only a dream. She walked into view of her kitchen, seeing no one moving around. Her shoulders slumped before she moved to her usual spot on the sofa so that she could watch the News. Before she could sit down her front door opened, Steve stepping into the apartment and seeing her standing at the end of the hallways. “Hey.” He shut and locked her it, slowly making his way towards her. “You uh, you slept the entire day.” When he reached her, he could clearly see the disbelief in her features.
“Are you really here?” She whispered.
“I am.” He brushed his fingers up her jawline before cupping her cheek. Steve saw the tears forming again and pulled her into him. “I’m really here.” He breathed.
“I thought you were dead.” She choked back a sob as she wrapped her arms around him. “You didn’t call. Or.. or text.” She looked up at him. “I even sent you an email.”
“I know.” He whispered. “And I don’t have a reason why I didn’t answer.” He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh before speaking again. “With everything that was going on… I didn’t want you getting involved with Tony and I didn’t want you to worry so much.” He caressed her cheek again. “I didn’t know what I would find when I got here. I didn’t know if you had moved on without me or if…” He didn’t want to think about her becoming a victim to Thanos.
“I couldn’t help but worry about you. I didn’t know where you were or when you’d come back. I don’t know what I would have done.”
“I’m sorry Y/n.” He kissed her forehead as he held her for a little longer. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself.” He pointed.
“Don’t analyze me right now.” She mumbled. “You’ll ruin the moment.”
“I cooked.”
“Good. I’m starving.”
They let each other go, Steve grabbing food for both of them and walking over to the sofa where she had grown comfortable. He handed the dish to her and decided on playing their favorite movie. Once the movie was over and they were full, the both of them moved into the bedroom. Steve let her take a shower as he tidied up her bedroom and grabbed his own clothes for a shower.
Y/n walked out of the bathroom in the sports team jersey that she had got him for the holidays, already used to using it as pajamas in his absence. She noticed him staring at her, a sudden shyness controlling her. “I can give it back if you want.”
“No.” Steve stood, walking towards her. “It looks better on you anyways.” He kissed her cheekbone before going into the bathroom to shower. She bit her bottom lip as she climbed into bed, sitting with her legs crossed. She lotioned her legs and feet before going under the blanket. Now that she was somewhat able to function, she made a mental note of dedicating tomorrow as her wash day. She was lost in thought about whether she had all of her products when the bathroom door opened and Steve walked out with only his pajama pants on. He moved around the bed and laid next to her. “What’s on your mind?” He asked.
“Do you want to help me wash my hair tomorrow?” She questioned as she got comfortable.
“Of course.” He moved closer to her. She wrapped her arms around him, a small smile of content forming on her lips.
Steve kept his eyes open as he waited for her to fully relax and fall asleep, but he could feel the worry and restlessness radiating off of her. “Steve?”
“Can’t sleep?”
“Not really.” She let him go as he adjusted his positioning so he could face her.
“Want to watch one of my usually boring documentaries?”
She smiled, moving her hand to grab his before speaking. “I’ve gotten used to them.” She admitted. “I learned a lot too. Asian culture, animal behavior, even human behavior.”
“Hm.” Steve thought for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “I can’t think of anything else then.” He chuckled. Y/n smiled before she leaned in, a little hesitant since they hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Steve catching on and blushing slightly as he also leaned in closer. “It’s getting a little cold out these days.” He whispered, their lips ever so close.
“Yeah.” She responded. “It's winter again.” Steve moved his hand to the back of her head, holding her close as he closed the space between them. He moved to prop up on his elbow so he could get a better look at her.
“You know…” He ran the back of his hand across her cheekbone then down to her jawline. “You’re just as beautiful as the first time I saw you.” He leaned forward, his lips ghosting against hers. “Just as breathtaking.”
“I looked disgusting.” She smiled. “Had all that baby throw up on me.”
“And you know what? Seeing you still made me nervous.”
Y/n melted against him, her arms wrapping around him as he ran his hand up her side to her back. Steve rolled so that he was on top of her as he pushed the jersey up to her waist. She had missed his large calloused hands roaming her body, finally having them again after losing the memory of their feel. She kept herself from crying. Her heart swelling as she continued to tell herself that he was really there. That he wasn’t just some vivid daydream that she conjured up during one of her depressive episodes. She placed her hand on his cheek, looking up at him when he broke their kiss to look at her. “Are you really here, Steve?” She asked, pressing her other hand against his cheek. “If I fall asleep and wake up in the morning will you still be here?”
Steve hadn’t realized how much she had been hurting. He understood the extent of her pain but like a never ending dark tunnel, he couldn’t see how bad it was. Steve pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a sigh before looking at her again. “I promise, Y/n. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“I’m scared.” She whispered, tears falling involuntarily. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“I know, Dollface.” He held her face, wiping her tears as they fell. “You’ll have to fall asleep eventually. If you have a bad dream, I’ll be here to make sure you’re alright.” He kissed her cheeks before pressing his forehead against hers again. “We can get you a pet to make sure you’re not as lonely anymore.” He continued, trying to cheer her up. “Anything you want, I’ll find it for you.”
“Steve, I just want you to stay with me.” She kept her eyes closed. “I don’t want you to go back to being an Avenger. Mrs. Handon disappeared right in front of me. She turned to ashes and I thought I was next. I spent days thinking I was going to die but the worst thing I thought about was not knowing if you were okay. You being in danger scares me more than anything in the world.” She finally opened her eyes, staring into Steve’s regret filled blue eyes. “Call me selfish but I don’t want you going back.”
“Y/n…” He sighed, scooting down so that he could rest his head against her chest. He could hear her heart hammering against her chest before he spoke again. “Eventually, I’ll have to go back. We need to bring everyone back. We need to save people.” She wrapped her arms around him again, one of her hands moving into his hair as the other rested against his broad upper back. “I can make you a promise that I will come back to you. I can visit you on the weekends and check up on you.”
“Steve.” She bit her bottom lip to keep herself from sobbing, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Y/n.” He looked at her, grabbing her wrist and kissing her forearm. “I’m a man of my word.”
“You already have your mind made up.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I just got you back.”
“I’m not leaving now.” He kissed her skin again. “You have me for at least another 48 hours.”
“That’s not enough time.” She whispered.
“After I come back you’ll have me forever.” He leaned up and kissed her chin. “I won’t leave you unless you want me to go.”
“I’ll never want you to go.”
“Then forever it is.” He whispered, laying back down on her.
Oh my... look I’m alive. Hiyo everyone that’s been following and hello new followers.
So... it’s been... a hot minute since I’ve been gone. I wanna say some months. I’ve been going through financial and mental shit but who isn’t amiright?
ANYWAYS
I’ve been working on nothing but anime related fanfictions and self-inserts as well as art and other stuff I think. I made a blanket to that’s pretty cool. But I digress.
I’ve decided that I’m going to be working on 3-D men fics again but they’ll be for shows only sadly. (I’m sorry to anyone that requested anything from me while I was gone.)
I’ll be sticking to SPN, MCU, Peaky Blinders, maybe some Witcher and Vikings here and there.
I guess you could say I’m back? Maybe... don’t quote me.
HI, can i request a one shot (nsfw) where fem!reader is being eaten out by legolas and elladan and elrohir are each sucking her nipples please. (basically porn without plot). Thankyou!!
Hiyo. I just posted your request. I hope you enjoy it.
HI, can i request a one shot (nsfw) where fem!reader is being eaten out by legolas and elladan and elrohir are each sucking her nipples please. (basically porn without plot). Thankyou!!
A/N: Hello. For some reason my notifications don’t show me asks. I do apologize if this isn’t up to your standard but I’ve got finals and midterms to study for so my brain is mostly on criminal justice.
WARNING: Plotless smut, oral (female receiving), double penetration, short (sorry)
She gasped, hands gripping the arms of the twin brothers that had this mouths latched to her nipples. She shut her eyes tight as another orgasm raked over her body, pulling mewls from her throat as he legs started to shake. “Please! No more! I beg of you!” She cried out, back arching as her nails dug into each arm.
“But you’ve still yet to experience bliss.” Elladan whispered to her.
“Do you believe that Legolas would be the only one to taste you?” Elrohir smirked, licking her nipple.
Legolas ran the flat of his tongue along her trembling core, looking up at her with a smug smirk. “Surely you can handle more.” He sat up, licking his lips. “As Elladan said... bless has yet to reach you.”
Legolas and Elladan switched positions, the twin now between her legs as Legolas next to her. “Hand here.” Legolas grabbed her wrist, putting it on his hard cock. “Take care of us as well.”
Elladan thrust forward, entering her with ease. She tensed, releasing again, eyes rolling back as she started to spasm. “Look. At. Her.” He said with each thrust.
“A beauty.” Elrohir smirked, moving his hand to her clit and slowly rubbing the pad of his finger against it.
Legolas grabbed her trembling leg, holding it open as Elladan started a quick pace, staring at the mess he was making of her. Her moans and cries growing loader as she tried her best to move her hands against Legolas and Elrohir’s length.
She bit her bottom lip, shaking her head as she tried to get away from the intense pleasure she was feeling. She tightened around him, eyes pleading but for nothing in particular. “Look how cute you are.”
Elrohir continued to toy with her sensitive core, moving from her nipple to her neck, sucking and nipping on her skin. “Keep going. Don’t stop brother. She’s nearly there.”
“I can see it brother.” Elladan leaned forward, grabbing her chin so that she could look at him. “I’d like to see her completely broken by us.”
“That can be arranged.” Legolas smirked against her exposed breast.
Elladan picked her up, holding her against his chest. “Brother.” He spoke.
Elrohir laid in her spot, nodding as his twin placed her on top of him. “Will it fit?” He asked, looking from Legolas to Elladan. “There’s a possibility.” When he didn’t receive a response, he slowly pushed his way in, stretching her out. She yelped, grabbing anything she could hold on to. “She’s so tight.”
The twins thrust into her, Legolas watching in amazement. She had tears falling down her face as she moaned and screamed in pleasure. Her legs being held open for a better view.
“I won’t be able to hold out any longer brother.” Elladan growled, digging his fingertips into her thighs. She pulled him in for a kiss, holding him close as their lips clashed. She bit his lip as she climaxed, her limbs falling limp. He released, pulling out and spilling the rest onto her skin.
Legolas chuckled turning her face so that she could look at him. “I do believe the poor thing is broken.” He smirked.
Hey, can I get a Legolas smut. I always wondered what it would be like if the reader was very much a dom (in this particular situation) and legolas became a very submissive good boy. And it's kinda like they switch roles, cause usually Legolas is dom and has the reader under him while he pounds into her mercilessly, but now it's the same thing with the roles switched.
A/N: AH I’M SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!!! I ended up getting swamped with assignments and then 2 midterms in the same day. Just so much work. I’m sorry if this isn’t up to par.
“Please give your humblest salutations to the Queen!” The knight spoke as he stood at attention at the bottom of the long staircase.
She gracefully walked down, looking down out of habit so that she wouldn’t miss a step of fall. She was still getting used to being “royal”. When she reached the bottom he was standing there, waiting for her with his hands behind his back.
The beautiful elven man stood tall; his blonde hair pulled out of his face in isn’t usual position. Not a hair out of place. His blue eyes locking with yours as his smile brightened. “My Lady.” He nodded, bowing slightly.
“My Lord.” She nodded back, curtseying. “I apologize for my lateness. I could not decide what to wear.” She lied, everyone around her seeming to laugh.
Legolas simply nodded and motioned for her to walk with him towards their table. “You know you can be yourself. You are my Queen now.”
“A Queen must be proper and docile My Lord.” She couldn’t say it with a straight face but hid the small fit of laughter. “I am only fulfilling my role as your wife.”
They both sat in their seats, looking over the people that ate, danced, and drank around them. A familiar Dwarf walking in, a goblet in his hand as he moved towards his seat at the table. “Seems you are not the only one that was late My Queen.” One of the men at the other end of the table spoke. “The dwarf could not find this very hall because everything is so big to him.”
She picked up her goblet of wine, placing it to her lips when she spoke softly. “And yet he can hold his sword better than you in a battle.” She drank and placed it back down, looking at Legolas as he smirked at her. He placed his hand on hers.
“Do not hold it against her.” He said to the drunken man. “My Goddess has had a long day of planning.”
“With all due respect my King. But what could a woman be planning? Other than baring children or picking flowers?” He laughed along with others.
She could feel the fire building within her husband and grabbed his hand, calming him as she spoke. “Well… if a low knight such as yourself must know.” She started, gathering the attention of others. “As many may know our King and his Knight Commander will be going to visit the Kingdom of an old friend. I, as Queen, will be here dealing with previous engagements that have been started.” She straightened her posture. “That includes all battles and interacting with the people of our Kingdom. While occasionally picking a flower or two. It would be in your best interest to remember that a woman is just as strong as a man if not stronger.” She sat back, taking a drink from her wine cup and keeping her eyes on the man that now seemed uncomfortable.
“A strong woman indeed.” Legolas whispered.
The evening trailed slowly, leaving her bored as she watched people happily dancing around. She finished her wine and stood. “I will be turning in early for the night My King.” She kissed him on the cheek as Legolas grabbed her hand to stop her.
“Are you ill?” He asked concerned.
“No. Not at all. I’ve just…” She looked around for a moment. “Grown tired is all.”
“Then I will come with you.” Legolas moved to stand up, but she stopped him.
“I know you wish to be by my side. But I am more concerned for our friend Gimli.” She motioned to the dwarf that seemed to be passed out drunk. “I will wait for you.” She gave him another kiss and moved towards the stairs, nodding to those that acknowledged her.
In her chambers she had stripped herself of the uncomfortable dress and corset, putting on a loose gown as she sat by the fire and read. She was engrossed in reading the book about the adventures of hobbits and their adventures. The door to the chamber opened, breaking her from the trance the book seemed to hold. “I thought you would be asleep.” Legolas walked over to her, sitting across from her and stoking the fire. “You said you were tired.”
“I needed an excuse to get away from the gathering.” She confessed.
“I see.” He nodded, blue eyes flickering from the fire to her.
They sat in a comfortable silence, the elf poking at the fire and his Queen reading again. He looked at her, staring intently. And she could feel his gaze on her, making her blush slightly and lose the sentence she was reading. He didn’t stop staring, watching as she smiled and looked up at him. “My Lord?”
“The most beautiful woman I’ve laid eyes on.” Legolas mumbled.
She closed her book, placing it down away from the fire. “You and I both know that the most beautiful woman you have laid your eyes on was an elven woman.” She stated calmly. “You’re staring makes me wonder what it is that you want.” She stood up, hands on her hips and she looked down at him. He moved to stand up as well, but she put her foot on his thigh, stopping him. “You have sharp eyes when you’re hunting your prey My King.” She moved her foot, smirking when she found what she knew was there. “But I’ve noticed this all night.” She pressed on his hardening member, watching as his cheeks turned a bright red, his blue eyes darkening as he stared up at her.
“And what of you my Queen?” He touched her ankle, slowly moving his hand up her calf to the inner part of her thigh. She bit her bottom lip when his finger brushed against her heat. “I can smell your arousal from down here.”
She pressed harder, pulling a groan from his parted lips. “Then it seems you will have to take care of your Queen.” She moved her foot to his chest, pushing him down on his back as she moved to stand over him. “Will you be good and take care of me Legolas?” She questioned, watching as his blush deepened. He nodded quickly. “Speak it.”
“I will take care of My Queen.” He blurted.
“Good.” She kneeled before coming to a seated position. “Devour me like the good elf I know you are.” His hands moved to her lower back, holding her in place as his tongue darted out. He slowly ran the flat of his tongue over her, groaning at the taste. His mouth covered her, tongue flicking over her clit, eyes closed as he focused on pleasing her. When her soft moans reached his ears, he looked up at her, taking in the pleased expression on her face as she held the skirt of her dress out of his face. Legolas pushed the tip of his tongue against her slit, teasing it to her annoyance. “You are not in the position to tease me.” She removed herself from him, smirking at his surprised expression. “I told you to devour me and you will do just that.” She pulled the ponytail from his hair, running her hands through it for a moment before getting back into position. “You said you would please your Queen, correct?”
“Yes, My Goddess.” He spoke softly, watching as she paused for a moment.
“That’s more like it.” She sat back down, staring into his eyes as his tongue entered her. She moaned, pushing her hands into his hair. “Just like that.” She slowly rocked her hips, eyes closing as she felt her climax building. Their grips tightened on each other, her hand pulling his hair as the hands on her hips pulled her closer to his mouth. She whimpered, pulling away just as she was about to finish, looking down at him. “I do not recall giving you permission to make me release.” She stood up, taking a moment to gather herself. “Those hands of yours may be a problem.” She looked down at him, trying her hardest to contain the surge of power that was beginning to course through her.
As he laid on the floor, hair disheveled, his face slick with her juices, and cheeks flushed as he panted, she found herself a new interest. “What would you like me to do next Goddess?” He questioned, licking his lips.
“What do you think comes next?” She questioned, not sure herself.
“May I please you more?” He sat up on his elbows.
She pulled her the sleeves of her dress down, letting the rest fall in a pool around her. “Your Goddess would enjoy that.” She moved out her his was as he stood, taking her hand and leading her towards the bed. Legolas rid himself of his clothes, staring at her with lustful eyes. She pushed him down, climbing on top of him and leaning in for a kiss. She stopped, smirking to herself when she noticed his slightly parted lips and closed eyes. “You’re making it difficult not to tease.” She whispered against his lips before kissing him. “But I know there’s only so much you can take.”
Legolas placed his hands on her hips, his eyes still closed as she hovered over his cock. She grabbed them, holding them as she sank down, letting out a pleased moan at the feeling of being stretched by him. It took everything in his power not to begin rough thrusts. His grip tightened; eyes screwed shut as his face twisted in tortured pleasure. “My Goddess.”
“So early?” She questioned, her too feeling as if she were at the end of her rope. “Let’s test your restraint, shall we?” She started bouncing, riding him as she grabbed his hand and pulled it to her mouth. She took one of his fingers into her mouth, sucking and moaning around it as she circled her hips.
“My Goddess.” He groaned, his other hand gripping the fabric that still covered her skin.
“Tell me Legolas.” She encouraged as she leaned forward. “Tell me your deepest desires.”
Legolas sat up, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his face into her neck. “I wish for you to use me until your hearts content.” He kissed her neck. “Until the fire in your stomach is sated.”
She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck as she stilled her movement. “Then be a good King and please me.” Legolas smirked and pressed his lips to hers.
Hi. I'm just spreadin some thoughts... the most aggressive character you can think of + the full nelson position. Boom.
It’s gotta be Soulless!Sam.
Makes you watch in the mirror as your pussy magically makes his cock disappear. All of it— every last thick inch. You’re completely at his mercy, unable to move thanks to the vice grip he’s got around your upper arms, his giant hands cupping the back of your head, keeping you stationery. Every upward thrust of his hips makes your eyes roll, hitting depths that you didn’t think were possible.
He fucks the literal breath out of you, strained gasps parting your lips around words you can’t form. Sam can’t see the way your eyelids flutter shut in delight each time he drives back inside you, but even if he did, he wouldn’t care. He only cares to use you in whatever way he sees fit. To him, you’re just a toy. His little puppet. And when he grows bored, he’ll cut your strings without hesitation, leaving you in a crumpled heap of limbs and unrequited feelings.
A/N: Is this Spencer Reid Smut? Yes. Is he a Dom? Also yes. Do I know what I’m doing with myself at this point? Not a clue. Enjoy. Dude... this is a filthy one. I didn’t hold back. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF THE WARNING
WARNING: no plot smut, swearing, light degrading, unprotected sex, mention of bondage, light choking, mocking
Spencer walking into his apartment, tossing his keys into the porcelain bowl that sat on the accent table in the walkway. “Welcome home Spence.” She had her back to him as she scanned his collection of books, trying to figure out which would be her next adventure. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her shoulder. “Work got you stressed out love?” She questioned.
“Can I?” Spencer questioned, hand moving towards the hem of her sweatshirt. “It’s been a while for the both of us and I don’t want to be gentle.”
“If you have energy to talk afterwards, would you be up for it?” She turned to face him as he nodded. “Then yes.” She kissed him, allowing him to push his hands up her top and roam her upper body. He pushed his tongue in her mouth, the tip of it brushing against hers as it explored her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, moaning when his hands pushed her bra up.
With his knee between her legs and his hands fondling her chest, she felt as if her mind was in a haze. On occasions like this, Spencer would usually be gentle, allowing her to set the pace and control what he does. But being that there was something he wanted to get off of his mind, he needed to lose all sense of his sweet and gentle self.
Spencer broke their kiss, moving to lift up her sweatshirt and ducking under. He kissed the top of her left breast as his the index finger on his other hand flicked the nipple of the right. She covered her mouth, trying to keep from moaning too loud since the walls of their apartment were thin. “I want to hear you.” He nibbled on her sensitive nipple, pulling a mewl from her lips. “Just like that.” Spencer moved his knee from between her legs, letting out a seemingly dark chuckle as he removed himself from under her clothes. “These are my favorite slacks you know.” He cupped her cheek with one hand as the other moved towards her shorts. “Are you going to buy me a new pair? Or at least get these dry cleaned after getting your sweet pussy juices all over it slut.”
She stood shocked. Voice catching in her throat when she tried to get her words out. She could only nod.
“Open.” Spencer smirked as he pushed his hand into her pajama shorts. She obliged and opened her legs slightly, keeping her eyes locked with his. The hand on her cheek moved down to her neck, keeping her in place though she didn’t plan to move.
As he plunged his fingers into her sopping cunt, her hand instantly shot up to cover her mouth. But the warned look that he was giving her resulted in her moving them. “Sp...” She gasped, moving her hips to the slow pace he set.
“Hm?” He whispered in her ear. “What was that? What’s that expression? You look like you’re about to lose your mind.” She bucked her hips, wanting more friction from his touch. She was instantly denied, Spencer pulling his fingers out and pressing them against her parted lips. She sucked on them, wrapping her hand around his wrist as she greedily licked her juices off of his digits.
Spence pulled his hand from her grip, leaning forward as he tilted her chin. “You’re not saying much. But your body language is speaking volumes. Want to know what it’s telling me?” Her breath caught, staring into his eyes as she slowly nodded. "The way you balled your fists just now. It tells me that you’re aching. You need me that bad and it hurts. That little twitch at the corner of your mouth meant that you were hiding a smile while you licked my fingers clean.” He pushed his hand back into her shorts, relishing in the way her eyes closed and her mouth fell open. “Tell me... with words... how long you’ve waited for me to treat you like the needy little thing you are?” He wiggled his fingers, making her body jerk and her hands instinctively cover her mouth. “Should I tie your hands up? Make sure you can’t hide the sounds I enjoy hearing?”
She shook her head, whining when his fingers pushed deeper and curled slightly. She grabbed fist fulls of his shirt, pushing her face in his chest as he massaged her insides. “Spence.” She called, pushing her hips forward.
“That’s it.” He praised. “Look at you being obedient.”
“I want to cum Spence.” She stated. “Please let me.”
“I didn’t have plans to edge you tonight.” He pressed the pad of his thumb against her throbbing clit. “I want your body to spasm and ache until you beg me to stop.” He pulled his fingers out and undoing the restraints of his pants. “You can suck it later. I need to be inside of you.” He picked her up, pressing his lips against hers as he lined himself up with her opening. He couldn’t help but tease her, rubbing the head of his cock against her hole. “Tell me how much you want it.”
“I need you Spence.” She whimpered as she circled her hips to try and get him to enter her. “You know it’s been a minute since the last time we done it... and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if you keep teasing me like this.” She looked down at his hard cock, letting out another small whimper. “Spence just put it in. I n-”
She yelped as he shoved his member inside of her. “Shit.” He huffed. “Your insides are taking me in so well beautiful.” He moved his hand to her neck, pushing in deeper. “Don’t hide your voice.”
Spencer held tight to her as he thrusts his hips, his mouth hot on her skin. He bit, sucked, and licked from her collarbone to her shoulder. His hand squeezed her ass as his other arm wrapped around her waist. She held on to the bookcase as she cried out for more.
She couldn’t help the hiccup that came when she felt her climax building. “More!” She pushed her hands into his hair, tugging at the strands. “Spence! Please!” She trembled slightly, eyes screwed shut as he turned and walked towards the sofa. He sat her down, still inside of her.
He pushed her legs apart, staring down at her as hes hands rested on the back of her thighs. “Please what? Use your words.”
“More!” She yelled. “I need you to f-” He roughly pounded into her, smirking at the surprise when she was cut off.
“I’m sorry. That was rude of me. What were you saying?” Spencer mocked. Her breath caught when his thick cock hit her cervix and then a sweet spot that sent her body into autopilot. “Look at me.” He pushed his index and middle finger into her mouth. She looked up at him as her next climax built. “Look at that expression. You’re so close aren’t you?” She nodded, legs shaking slightly. “Would it be a shame if I just stopped?” He leaned his head to the side, chuckling when she nodded quickly. “You must want to cum that bad huh?” She bit Spencer’s fingers as she clamped down around him. “Sh...shit.” He let her legs go, gripping the cushion of the sofa as he climaxed with her.
Spencer huffed, shaking his head and pushing himself up. “Ready to talk?” She mumbled with a slight smile.
“Not yet. You’re still not shaking the way I want you to.” Spencer kissed the top of her head, pulling out. “Just need a minute”
Spencer chuckled as she laughed weakly. “Whenever you’re ready Spence.”
A/N: Hello there... here’s a more... mild version of ‘Tattoo Artist’. It could have went completely different than it had before...
WARNING: None really... mentions of smut, mentions of BDSM, mentions of Stucky threesome?, mention of pain
@evnscvll
Words:1242
“Alright. We’re all finished.” She said as she pulled the gloves off of her hands.
“Happy? You’ve got a tattoo and now you can leave me alone about it.” The mother said as she stood up. “Where do I pay?”
“Desk at the front. My apprentice will take care of you.” She said as she stood up and stretched her limbs. She washed her hands and started to pack up her supplies for her neck client. “Alright guys.” She said to the others in the shop. “I’m heading out to my next client.” She moved towards the exit as the other wished her luck.
When the apprentice booked this appointment, they ignored the fact that she wasn’t the type to go to her clients. But she didn’t cancel because money was money. She would have to drive a distance to get to her client, but she was being reimbursed for the gas thankfully.
When she arrived, she realized that the place she was going to wasn’t going to be a usual house or apartment complex, she felt like she wanted to turn back and cancel. There was one thing about seeing a hero on the television but seeing them in person was completely different. She parked her car in an area where her car wouldn’t be in the way and got out, taking her equipment with her. As she walked towards the front door it opened, revealing the Captain America. “Holy shit.” She cleared her throat. “You’re much bigger in person.”
“I get that a lot.” Steve chuckled. “You must be the tattoo artist Bucky was telling me about.”
“I am. I don’t usually make home-calls but I’m a people pleaser.” She smiled. “So, Bucky is your… partner?”
“More of a best friend.” He answered with a nod. “Let me get that for you.” He grabbed the case and allowed her inside. They walked through the compound, Steve chatting about how easy it was to get lost in such a big place. She couldn’t help but look at his back muscles as she followed him, checking out his ass while she was at it. She stopped herself, mentally cursing that it was inappropriate to check someone out, even if they’re male. “Here we are.” Steve smiled, stopping in front of a door. He knocked on the door, a faint ‘come in’ coming from the other side.
When they entered the room, she was instantly taken aback by the other large man that was sitting on the edge of a bed. “Does everyone look like you guys?” She questioned.
“Not as attractive.” Bucky chuckled as he stood up. “Bucky Barnes. I’m the one getting the tattoo today.”
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled, pulling out her sketchbook. “So, what did you have planned?”
“I wanted to get something that symbolized the way I’ve grown.” He explained. “I’d say I’m a completely different person.” Bucky chuckled, looking at Steve as he nodded in agreement.
“Alright then.” She nodded. “I would suggest…” She pulled out her sketchbook, showing him a sketch of a phoenix and then a lotus flower. “I could freehand something if you don’t have anything in mind.”
“I’d like that.” He nodded.
“Alright cool.” She smiled as she bit her bottom lip. “So where do you want it?”
“Here.” He motioned to his side.
“Alright, let me just set up.” She got everything set up, washing her hands afterwards. Steve set up a chair for Bucky to sit in as she stood in front of him to draw on his skin. “This’ll tickle by the way. I’m light handed.”
“I’m not the ticklish type.” Bucky winked at her, catching her by surprise.
She got started, focusing on drawing and not the face that he was staring at her. Steve sat in the room with them, writing stuff down in a small notepad. “Are you two the only ones here or something?” She asked, breaking the ice.
“Buck is on leave. And I’m his babysitter.” Steve explained.
“I thought you said I didn’t need a babysitter.” Bucky retorted.
“What did you have to do in order to get leave?” She questioned, glancing between them. They looked at each other, before looking at her. “Is it that bad?”
“Well…” He looked to Steve who only shrugged his shoulders. “On a mission I accidentally, shot at him.”
“Accidentally?” She leaned her head to the side.
“I had a relapse.” Bucky stated.
“That was more than a relapse.” Steve retorted.
“Yeah… well because of it we’re stuck here.” He looked back at his friend.
She didn’t say anything as she set up, plugging her machine in, and making sure it’s working. “So, for today we can work on the outline if you’d like and I could come back.” She turned to face them as they both looked at her. “Or… I could just get it all done in one go with a few breaks in between.”
“Is that possible?” Steve questioned.
“Well…” She kept the inappropriate thoughts to herself before speaking. “Depending on your pain tolerance we could sit here all day and work on it.”
“Have you done it before?” Bucky questioned.
“You could say that.” She turned to face away from them, busying herself with the colors she had brought with her. She didn’t have any tattoos that she could show them, and this was her first time sitting to do a piece for longer than an hour or 2.
“I think she means something else Buck.” Steve chuckled, sensing the slight tension.
“Oh.” Bucky also chuckled. “You like pain then?”
“James.” Steve sat forward, shaking his head. “You don’t just ask a woman if she likes pain. It’s not like old times. Being straight forward like that can make some of them uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine.” She smiled, sitting down so she could get started. “I’ll admit it’s a bit intimidating when someone questions me like that.” She started the line work, noticing how he didn’t flinch when started with the smallest needle. “But if you’d like to know. I do enjoy pain here and there.” She focused on working, rather than their expressions, feeling slightly flustered.
“Do you walk around hurting yourself from time to time?” Bucky probed.
“No. It’s not like that.” She smiled.
“So, what is it like? If you don’t mind me asking.” Steve asked, intrigued.
“Well… you notice how Bucky doesn’t flinch when I draw a line.” She started. “I seek partners to fulfil a need to feel pain for pleasure. It’s different for others. Some of them do it to feel something. Others do it for the rush.” She shrugs.
“So BDSM?” Steve nodded and she couldn’t help but look in his direction.
“Yes. BDSM.” She straightened her back and adjusting slightly so that her back didn’t hurt. “I’m a sucker for pain and discipline.”
“If someone offered to fulfil that need…” Bucky thought for a moment.
“I’d probably say yes.” She looked at him. “Are you guys offering?”
Bucky stiffened, blushing as she continued her work unfazed by what she had just said. “Seriously?” Steve questioned.
“Yeah.” She nodded.
The friends looked at each other, her tapping Bucky’s metallic arm to get him to stay still. “I was honestly joking.”
“Everything is a joke until someone gets serious hun.” She winked at him before continuing with the lines. “We can get started after I finish with the line work. Try not to break me too bad though.”
So uh... being that I’ve changed my username on here. Whenever someone goes to my Masterlist to read one of my fics... they’re led to some sort of dating thing.
Make it make sense... WHY in the HOLY HELL am I being led to a dating thing...
Now I’ve gotta redo my Masterlist... it honestly hurts...
A/N: Vroom vroom. This is the last one for the day. I plan to do 2 a day if I can. @evnscvll
WARNING: swearing, speeding (don’t do it kids.. it’s not worth your life)
“Hey, Y/n! Where you gonna go now?” Benny questioned as he walked up to her while she loaded her car. “We got another job coming up and we need a driver.”
“You know this was my last job. I’m out.” She answered with a smirk, adjusting the bags in her trunk.
“It’s just transporting a package. You won’t have any trouble.” He continued, following her around her car until she finished up. “It won’t be hard.”
“Last package you had me deliver nearly blew me up.” She stated, shutting the trunk then the passenger door. “I’m out.”
“Alright Speedracer. You’ve got money now and don’t think we’re worth it.” He grumbled.
“Yeah yeah.” She mumbled, getting in the car. “Whatever.” There was a scream coming from outside, the both of them looking at each other before heading towards the garage door.
“Why are we doing this?” Benny asked. “It’s none of our business.”
“Benny.” She warned, opening it slightly and stepping back when a kid crawled under. “Holy shit.”
“No fucking way.” Benny closed to door as quickly as it opened. “This is that kid!”
“What kid?” She asked, looking at the girl in a fancy dress.
“The God Daughter of that hero that got kidnapped.” Benny snapped his fingers.
“Please. Captain Steve Rogers is my God Father and I managed to get away from the people that took me.” She stepped forward, grabbing her hands. “I just wanna go home.”
“No way.” Benny said, shaking his head. “I say we put the kid back outside and pretend like nothing happened.”
“No!” She yelled.
“Relax Kid. You’re not going back out there.” She said as she grabbed Benny by the collar. “We’re not putting a kid back in danger.”
“You’re a criminal Y/n. Remember that? What do you think they’re gonna do when they find out that the person hording the God Daughter of Steve fucking Rogers, you think they’re gonna pat you on the back? No if anything they’ll paint a red target on it.”
“Yeah.” She huffed, looking at the girl that looked scared out of her mind. “But my conscious is telling not to let her go back out there.”
There was banging on the garage door, cutting their conversation off. “We know the kid is in there! Open the door and no one gets hurt!”
“Get her out of here Y/n.” Benny whispered. “I’m looking out for you too here. This kid brought trouble to my doorstep. My ma’s gonna kill me if these guys don’t.”
“Shut up.” She sighed, scratching the back of her head. “Shit…” She opened the door to the car, motioning for the girl to get in. “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride for the kid so keep your head down”
“Are you insane!?” Benny yelled as the banging continued. The garage door rattling as they tried to get in. “Hey! Don’t get in that car Y/n! Just give her back to them! If you leave, I’m not helping you. You’re cut off.”
“I told you I was out Benjamin. So, I’ve already cut myself off.” She got in the car and shut the door. “The least you could do it get the door.” Benny sighed and rushed the button, pushing it and running out the back door of the garage. “Here kid. Call someone I’m gonna need directions.”
When the door was high enough, she put the car in reverse and slammed on the break, ramming into a big guy before whipping the car around and shifting to drive and speeding away. She looks in the rearview mirror, smirking as they scrambled to get in their SUV’s to chase after her. “Uncle Bucky!” The kid in the backseat yelled. “I escaped! A woman is bringing me to you! But she doesn’t know where to go!”
“Hit the Bluetooth kid.” She said as she maneuvered through cars. “Hey Uncle Bucky. I’m probably gonna have cops on my ass and I’d appreciate it if you or anyone let them know that the bad guys are not in the grey altered Camaro.”
“Go-”
“Who’s this?” A voice questioned.
“Oh wow. You must be the Captain.” She said with a smirk. “Look Soldier Boy I need you to give me a route to you so that the kid is safe. Asking me questions isn’t going to cut it right now.” She jumped when there were shots fired at her car. “Shit.” She looked back, pulling the emergency break to make a last-minute turn. “Good thing I’ve got the new windows. Look Soldier Boy can you get me a route or not?”
“We’ve got you!” Someone in the background yelled. “Go straight and then make a left at the light.”
“Hold on Kid!” She yelled when someone pulled up beside her and slammed into the side. “Watch the paint!” She yelled at the driver who pulled out a gun. She looked forward, noticing the line of cars in front of them and pulled the emergency break, screeching to a stop as the truck slammed into another car. “You alright kid!?” She looked back, putting the car in reverse. “Find me a new route there’s traffic there!” She turned the car and stepped on the gas, heading down a one way.
“You’re going the wrong way!” The kid yelled from the back seat.
“That’s the point!” She yelled back as she pressed her horn. She moved out of the way, watching as people blocked the way of the people chasing her. “See Kid. That bought us some time.” She chuckled. “You still with me Soldier Boy? Where do I go?”
“Make a right and then turn left.” Steve said as he paced on the other end.
“Yes sir.” She did as she was instructed, keeping an eye out for anyone following her. “Now who the Hell are you?”
“Let’s just say… I’m a woman that can’t let a kid get hurt.” She said. “Kid hold on!” She yelled and a car slammed into her bumper. “Shit!” They started shooting again, breaking the rear window. “Get us the fuck out of here Soldier Boy!”
“They’re on their way to them now! Once they get to the inner-city compound, they’ll be safe!”
She gasped when a car appeared in front of her, a man pointing a gun as her. “Down!” She yelled as she ducked. “We don’t have time for reaching the compound! They’re fucking up my car!” She sat up, swerving out of the way of a car they tried to get her to run into.
She watched a woman throw spikes in front of her car, but she turned the car, her back tire getting hit as she sped down the road. “What was that?”
“My car is reinforced but not that reinforced.” She reached pulled the passenger seat up, adjusting the tanks full of NOS. “Do you have your seat belt on kid?” She looked back, noticing the cars gaining on her.
“Good.” She turned a corner. “Is that it there!?” She questioned, pointing to the large building that was at the end of the road.
“Yeah.” The girl nodded.
“Good. Now hold on because I’m going to do something extremely dangerous.” She flipped a switched, finger hovering over a button as she went to max speed.
“Dangerous!?” Steve questioned. “What do you think you’re doing!?”
“Saving a life… probably ending one.” She pushed the button.
The car sped up, pushing them back against the seats as she kept her foot on the gas. She noticed the makeshift metal ramp and shook her head. “I’m going for it!” She yelled.
“No! I wanna go back with them!” The kid yelled. “I don’t wanna die!”
“Hold on!” She took the ramp, flying over the intersection and barely missing the top of a tour bus as she cleared the wall.
The car slammed against the ground, bouncing once. She groaned, looking back at the terrified kid. “Look you’re alive.” She laughed smiling brightly and driving towards the entrance of the building. She destroyed bushes and hedges as her car slow rolled onto the gravel. She pulled into looped driveway, watching as multiple people rushed out with guns in hand. “So much for a welcoming party.”
The back door was yanked off, making her jump and climb out of her car. “I’m so happy you’re safe.” Steve said as he hugged his God Daughter.
“Dude my door.” She moved to walk around it, ignoring the people pointing their guns at her until someone stepped in her way, putting their hand on her shoulder. “Why’d you take my door off? I could have unlocked it.” She stated.
“Y/n.” Steve said with a stern expression. “I had a feeling it was you.”
“Steve.” She smiled. “Long time no see.”
“I thought you stopped being a criminal.”
“I thought you retired.” She crossed her arms as she leaned against the back of the car. “Once a Hero always a Hero I guess.” She leaned her head to the side. “Or was it once a thief always a thief?”
“You two know each other?” Bucky questioned.
“You could say that.” Steve grumbled.
“If you count secret rendezvous as knowing each other then yeah… we know each other well.” Steve ordered everyone to head back in, leaving the two alone to have a talk.
“Why’d you save her? Did you do it to spite me?”
“Hmmm.” She tapped her chin. “Spite the man that left me for someone who didn’t love him and had an entire family with another man or save a kid that could have been dead if I didn’t save her.” She narrowed her eyes. “Honestly, Steven. Just because I’m wanted in the U.S doesn’t mean that I’m a cruel person.”
“You’re right.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just didn’t expect you of all people to want to help.”
“Oh Steven.” She caressed his cheek, wanting to say what was on her mind but deciding against it. “What can I say… I’m complicated like that remember.” She turned to walk away but he grabbed her wrist, turning her and going to press his lips against her but stopping. “Still hesitant Soldier Boy?”
“I won’t hesitate this time.” He kissed her, pulling her closer against his body.
